Finn moved slowly between the two of us and the point of the makeshift spear, which I considered a bad move because of the whole “wooden object through the heart” thing.
“You mean when you were in basic training?” I asked. “Meaning you were in the military?”
Ernie scowled, but he nodded.
“I got that right!” I exclaimed, pumping my fists in triumph, much to Finn’s chagrin. Ernie looked equally annoyed, so I crossed my arms over my chest. “I make my own fun.”
“And you,” Ernie snarled at Finn. “It’s your fault I’m even out here. If you’d just done what the Kelleys hired you to do, we’d have been in and out, no problem. But you had to pull your stupid noble vampire bullshit to impress a hot piece of ass.”
“Hey!” I exclaimed, pausing to think about that for a moment. “That . . . is more complimentary than I expected it to be.”
“I tell you that you’re gorgeous, and you don’t believe me. He calls you a hot piece of ass, and you turn into a blushing schoolgirl,” Finn muttered.
As we talked, Ernie’s body language changed from hateful and focused to just exasperated. His arms relaxed, and the target he seemed to be drawing with the spear point slacked. I glanced at Finn, who gave the tiniest of nods.
Picking up on his goal, I shrugged. “He has no reason to lie.”
“I have no reason to lie!” Finn exclaimed.
“And yet you still do it, pretty regularly.” I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest.
Finn threw his hands up in the air. “I said I was sorry. I’ve done everything I can to make sure you’re not touched by this. I did everything I could to keep you from getting hurt. I kept the shifters from finding you in the woods. I made sure Jane got her hands on the book before I stole it. I led the shifters to Jane’s backyard, so she’d be able to find us! I know I’ve screwed up, but I was trying to shield you.”
I strayed closer to Ernie, giving Finn reason to get closer to Ernie, all while the frustrated pilot dropped his arms to his sides and rolled his eyes. “And yet, somehow, ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t quite cover me getting thrown out of a plane and stranded in Deliverance country for days! I guess I’m just an unforgiving bitch.”
“Would you both just shut up,” Ernie groaned, flopping his head back like he was overseeing an argument between two teenagers.
That was his mistake.
Finn was so quick I didn’t even see him move. He lunged at Ernie, knocking the stick aside. Ernie swung out, punching at Finn but missing. Finn jerked him forward, his fangs in full play, and pulled Ernie’s head to the side. He reared his head back to strike, and I yelled, “Finn, don’t!”
Finn stopped, mid-bite. But before I could provide my in-depth list of reasons I didn’t want to see him commit murder, even if the victim had crashed our plane, I saw Michael backing toward a BMW parked on the flatter, clearer side of the clearing. And he was sliding Friar Thomas’s book into his pretentious leather messenger bag.
“Nope!” I cried, running after him. “Nope, nope, nope, nope!”
“Anna, where are you going? Don’t go after him!” Finn cried, dropping Ernie to the ground.
“Nope!” I yelled again, as my legs pumped.
I didn’t know what I was going to do when I caught up to Michael. I just knew that I couldn’t let him get away with taking the book and acting like he hadn’t stolen my work. The more rational parts of my brain were still unsure of how this was going to work out even as I reached Michael’s car, lowered my shoulder, and tackled him around the waist, sending his messenger bag tumbling across the grass. Slamming him to the ground had far more to do with the fact that his left knee was bent than any force on my part, but still, he was down. And to my surprise, I wasn’t panicked or scared. I was angry. So very angry that—in my adrenaline-hazed brain—Michael didn’t pose much of a threat in comparison with vampires, killer pilots, and cantankerous innkeepers.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael cried, wheezing as I sat on his chest.
“You are all that is wrong with academia!” I growled, rearing up so I was out of swinging range when he tried to punch me in the face. “You’re arrogant and lazy and careless, and you don’t even care about what you can learn, only what you can get. How did you even get involved in this?”
Michael rolled, throwing me onto my side. “When people want an expert on supernatural texts, an expert who’s qualified, they call me.”
“And how exactly did you get those ‘qualifications’? You’ve based your entire career on credit you took for my research,” I scoffed.