Mortal Hearts:

Part 2

By Juli

December 1998

Continued from Part 1

"These people give me the willies." Nick spoke quietly as he shrugged off his coat and joined Derek at the table.

"In what way?"

"They're always........looking at me."

Derek studied his lover for a moment, trying to look at him with objective yes. Cheeks ruddy from the chilly air. Eyes flashing green in indignation. Baggy sweater that did little to hide the ex-SEAL's athletic physique. No, the Dutchman couldn't blame any of the locals for eyeing the young man.

But God help anyone who tried to *touch.*

Nick paused after taking a bite of porridge, grimacing when he realized that Scots flavored theirs with salt rather than sugar. The American was taking a gulp of coffee to wash the taste away when he realized that Derek was staring at him. "What?"

The older man smiled fondly. "I was just thinking that I could understand why they're looking."

"Give me a break, Derek! I've been ogled before. This is different. It's like they're measuring me for my coffin."

The Precept's smile vanished. Nick didn't have to be psychic to be able to read people well and the young man's observation worried him.

"I didn't want to do this, but I don't think we have a choice......."

Upon hearing the worry in his lover's voice, Nick looked up from finishing his breakfast. In the same concerned tone, the Precept continued. "We'll have to split up. You find some fuel for the car and go back to the cottage. The phones should be up soon, right?" At Nick's nod, Derek went on. "Try and contact the London House to get as much information about the Shining Ones as possible. I think we'll need it very soon. In the meantime, I'll see what I can find out here. There's more going on in Glasmonadh than meets the eye."

"I don't know, Derek, I don't think we should split up." Nick did not look happy. Neither man wanted to be the one to bring it up, but both were thinking of the dire consequences of splitting the team in Connamere.

Derek's heart ached. He knew how Nick carried guilt about not being with Julia when she was attacked. The Precept still carried his own self-loathing over that decision but had accepted long ago that such choices were part of leadership. He didn't like it, not for a minute, but he excepted the burden all the same. "Truly, Nick, if I thought there was any danger... If there was any other way, I would take it in a minute."

Even though he was far from convinced, Nick tried to put on a happier face for the older man. "I'm sure you're right--this situation's totally different." Grabbing his coat, the American headed for the door.

"Nick," the American turned as Derek called his name. "Watch your back, all right?"

"You got it boss." With his characteristic saunter, the former SEAL turned and walked out into the dull light of late morning.

It wasn't until Nick was out of sight that Derek realized that he'd not said "I love you" to the young man that morning. The Precept tried to shrug off such gloomy thoughts, telling himself that he was a silly old man mother-henning his young lover.

But despite his best attempts at reassuring himself, the Dutchman couldn't help but feel that he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.


Glasmonadh was a small town and normally wouldn't have had anything resembling a decent reference library. However, Glasmonadh did have the distinction of being the birthplace of Dr. Siobvan Sinclair, one of the first female university presidents in all of Europe. Upon her death, Dr. Sinclair had bequeathed the town not only her substantial personal library, but also the monies to expand upon it. One got the impression that Dr. Sinclair had keenly felt the lack of adequate materials during her own childhood and felt an obligation to improve matters for future generations.

In any case, Derek's old friend, Dr. Williams, had mentioned the Siobvan Sinclair Scottish Society Trust to him, amazed that such a fine facility could be found in a remote location like Glasmonadh. With little difficulty, Derek found the building, and soon found himself pouring over texts and documents of local history.

It was a good thing the Precept was so adept at research. The only thing he received from the librarian was a glare at his back, which he didn't find particularly helpful.

The information that Derek found was unsettling. Of the Sidhe, not a thing. That in itself was highly unusual. The Shining Ones were as much a part of Scottish lore as the Wee Folk, the Loch Ness monster, and other ferlies. To find no mention of the fairy in a Scottish library, particularly in one as fine as this, was unbelievable. It was almost as if someone had gone through the library's collection and cleaned out any reference of such creatures.


Realizing that he would get nowhere trying to gather additional information on the Sidhe, and hoping Nick would have better luck getting details from the London House, Derek turned his attention to finding out as much as he could about Glasmonadh. This was where he ran into a little difficulty. Derek truly appreciated modern technology and knew that without computers, the Legacy's duties would be much harder, not to mention time-consuming. Still, the Precept wasn't as adept at tickling information out of electronic systems as Alex or Nick. As a result, it took him most of the rest of the afternoon to find out the history of the town.

The sky was beginning to darken when the Precept stretched and winced. With his lanky frame, Derek had to hunch over the computer terminal in an uncomfortable position that twisted his neck and back. As he tried to stretch the kinks out of his spine, the Dutchman had decided that he just might need to have Rachel teach him some of her yoga moves. Suddenly realizing what other good uses those yoga positions could have (not to mention how the extra flexibility could enhance his love life), Derek grinned and moved the notion up a notch on his priority list.

What made his current discomfort even worse was the knowledge that his search might have been fruitless. Despite his and Nick's feelings, the only odd occurrence that Derek'd discovered in Glasmonadh's history was an odd disappearance/reappearance. It seemed that a Willis Bridie had disappeared a little over 50 years ago. The young man had been seen one evening at the local pub having "a wee dram" of whisky but had somehow vanished on his way home. The newspaper clipping he'd read on the subject had implied that Bridie had skipped out on his upcoming wedding to a local girl, one Mary Locke. The girl, of course, had denied being left at the alter, saying her love was true to her. But it was an unarguable fact that no one had heard from Bridie for 50 years. It was as though the young man had fallen off the face of the earth. Half a century of silence and then, quite suddenly, a decrepit old man had been discovered wandering in the woods outside of Glasmonadh. The battered old man was in such bad shape that could hardly speak, but insisted that he was Willis Bridie. There were no official documents that they could compare to back his statement up, but his now-elderly fiance, Mary, had made a positive identification.

Bridie had died two days later, reportedly raving about glowing people holding him against his will.

The newspaper report had discounted the whole Bridie incident as a drunken old fool rambling on about alcohol-induced visions. Derek knew better. The Precept knew that the Shining Ones had a reputation of stealing people away to take to their enchanted dwellings. Of single nights that seemed to last for decades. The Dutchman had a suspicion that the town knew about this too--and the odd feeling he and Nick had sensed was somehow tied into the worry of Glasmonadh's citizens, hoping that another one of their own wouldn't be snatched. To make matters worse, if Derek was reading the maps and descriptions right, Bridie had disappeared and reappeared uncomfortably close to the location of the cottage that he and Nick were currently renting.

Derek got up from his chair and began to pace as the timing of this whole situation began to come clear to him. Willis Bridie had disappeared 50 years ago, most likely taken by the Sidhe, on a January night with no moon. He had reappeared, obviously the worse for wear, and then died just last month.

And tonight would be a January night with no moon, fifty years to the day that Bridie was taken.



It was a good thing, Nick reflected as he finally reached the cottage, that he and Derek had started out so early that morning. Investigating the fairy ring and hiking into town had taken most of the morning. A late breakfast ate up another hour and finding someplace to buy gas--who would have thought such a simple task would take most of the afternoon? Daylight was in short supply during Scottish winters and the sky was already darkening as the ex-SEAL reached his destination.

The young American re-fueled the car with the gas he'd finally obtained. Nick had been a bit disturbed by the furtive nature of the transaction. Buying gas was no crime, but the crofter who'd finally agreed to sell to him had acted as though he was doing something dirty. The nervous man definitely didn't want his neighbors to know about it, if the young American was reading the Scot's body language right. Strange, but then Nick was getting used to this odd little town.

Task finished, Nick went into the cottage and tried the phones again. Much to his surprise, they were actually working. Finally, something going right on this frustrating day! He'd just reported the problem that morning and no service company worked that fast so Derek must have been right about the unreliability of the local telephone service.

Talking to William Sloan wasn't one of Nick's favorite activities, so the ex-SEAL first tried the San Francisco House. He reached Frederick on the first ring, but found that neither Alex nor Rachel were available. Nick left a message and resigned himself to having no choice but to contact Sloan. Maybe he'd get lucky, the American told himself, and Sloan'd be out.

Nick needn't have worried. By the time he'd pawed through his well-worn pocket address book and located Sloan's number, the phones were down again. So much for their luck improving.

After considering his options, Nick decided to stay at the cottage for the time being. His task was to contact the London House for assistance, so although every instinct he had was urging him to head back into Glasmonadh and rejoin Derek, the young man knew his duty was to keep trying to get through to Sloan. Besides, considering the lateness of the day, it was a good bet that Derek was already on his way back to Nick.

In the meantime, the cottage looked a bit neglected. Last night's activities had left clothes strewn all about and neither man had yet taken the time to pick them up. Nick's upbringing and Navy training made it difficult for him to put up with such a mess. He sighed and started picking up the clutter.

Oh well, he encouraged himself, at least getting the place ship-shape would give him something to do instead of worrying about Derek.



Derek whirled from the computer terminal and strode straight towards the librarian's desk. He didn't care how much that woman glared at him, by God, she *would* let him use the phone. Nick was in danger that he didn't even know about and Derek would be damned if he'd let anyone get in the way of warning him.

The Precept ignored the woman's stammered demands for an explanation and reached over her to grab the telephone. He waved her away as though shooing off a annoying insect as he started to dial, noticing but not really caring when she left the room in a huff.

Derek stared at the handset in disbelief as the recorded voice recited again the number he was dialing was not in service.


Sick at the thought that he couldn't warn his lover, the Dutchman put aside his fear and made for the door. With the short winter days, the daylight was rapidly fading. Every moment counted right now and he had to find the quickest way to get back to that cottage.

In his single-minded determination to reach Nick, Derek literally ran into the new arrivals now standing in the entrance to the library. Bouncing back from the physical contact, the Precept tried to shift them out of his way, but they moved even closer, packing the doorway and effectively blocking the exit.

"Get out of my way, this is an emergency!" Derek was in no mood to be polite.

"Now where do ye be goin', laddie buck?" asked one of the larger men.

Derek took a closer look at those in front of them. The librarian was present and evidently had brought reinforcements. Believing she might be angry about the call he'd tried to make, Derek directed his comments to her. "I'm very sorry about the phone, I'll see that you're reimbursed about the call. But this really *is* an emergency......." The Precept again tried to push his way through, only to be rebuffed by a stocky man making his way through the back of the crowd.

"We dinnae ask the two o' ye to cum here," the newcomer stated, "remember that. But when ye decided ta push yer noses where they not be belongin'.......well, ye'll have to take the consequences."

Derek looked at the stoic faces now surrounding him. Some would meet his eyes, but most of the people turned away. Yet, if he tried to push his way through, the Precept would find himself blocked. The Dutchman was beginning to get frantic-- he had to get to Nick! He met the gaze of one matron, only to see her blush and duck her head down. Suddenly it occurred to Derek just why the townspeople were delaying him and he grew cold right down to the marrow of his bones.

"My God," he whispered in dread. "You mean for them to take him!"

The woman who'd just lowered her eyes lifted her gaze to face him. "Please, ye've got ta understand! Me own son, Geddes, he's only 18. He's nae as bonnie as yer lad, but I just know that they twould choose him!" Tears fell from her eyes as she pleaded for Derek's sympathy.

The Precept was *not* disposed to give it to her and was about to make a scathing remark when someone else beat him to it.

"Cowards! All o' ye!" A new voice came from just beyond the crowd. "Fer years, ye laughed at me, said I twere crazy. But now that it's yer own loved ones at risk, ye'd sacrifice an innocent lad ta those ferlie beasts! Shame a'pon ye!" The voice got louder as the speaker approached and by the time she was finished, she had pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Derek saw that his new champion turned out to be a shabby old woman.

As the old woman had made her entrance, the people near her withdrew slightly, leaving an aisle open to the door. Derek was about to make his exit when he realized that someone might take pity on him and provide transportation, getting him to Nick all the sooner.

"Please," he begged, "your young men at least know to be careful. Nick doesn't have a clue that the Sidhe might be...........hunting tonight. I need a car--"

"Be gone w' ye then!" The first man spoke for the group. "We'll let ye pass, but no more." His voice got louder as he gave his orders to the gathered citizens. "No more!"

Derek looked at the heartless faces around him and knew that it would be fruitless to hope for further assistance. The Precept took off at a full run. Two miles was a fair piece of land to cover and it had already been a long day.

"God speed to ye, lad!" He heard the old woman's voice cheer him on. "God speed!"


Nick stretched his back and winced. What with trying the featherbed out the night before, the lovers hadn't gotten much rest and the young man had fallen asleep in a chair while waiting for the phones to work. It was still early evening, but already full dark out. God, what a day! It seemed that there were road blocks at every avenue of investigation that they'd tried. He'd attempted repeatedly to get through to London, but so far, no joy.

The ex-SEAL looked out the window. With no moon, it was as black as pitch out there. Orders or not, the young man decided, he was taking the car into town and getting Derek. The Precept had no business hiking back with no light. With their current run of luck, the Dutchman probably would sprain an ankle or something. Nick grabbed his coat, making sure he had his keys, and headed for the door.

Once outside, the young man stopped before even shutting the door to take a deep breath of fresh air. Glasmonadh was remote--and that was damn frustrating right now--but the American couldn't deny that the local environment was pure and invigorating. With a somewhat lighter heart, he reached to pull the door the rest of the way closed.

That's when he heard the first horn.

At least, he thought it was a horn. Startled, Nick automatically grabbed for his gun. Damn, that was close! What the hell was a horn doing way the hell out here, anyway? Nick crouched down close to the cottage for cover and waited to see what would happen, every muscle in his body tense as the young man anticipated danger. The horn sounded again, a sweet tone that pierced the crisp night air like the peal of a bell. The ex-SEAL smiled in delight and stood up. What a beautiful sound--he couldn't believe that it had alarmed him. Another horn joined the first, and then another. Soon the night was alive with their ringing tones.

Nick swayed from side to side as he listened to the unearthly sound. What a glorious noise! His eyes glazed over, the young man allowed his gun to drop to the ground as he wandered off into the forest in search of the source of the exquisite music.

The former SEAL never even noticed when he left the safety of the cottage's lights.


I didn't tell him I loved him. I didn't tell him I loved him. I didn't tell him.......

Derek's recriminating chant accompanied his frantic run to the cottage, the Precept berating himself with every step. The overall terror of Nick being taken by the Sidhe was too much to deal with during his panicked flight and so his apprehension consolidated into kicking himself for not telling Nick this morning that he'd loved him.

At least it provided a rhythm that he could run to.

Derek kept up his fast pace throughout his dash to the cottage. If there were any obstacles in his way as he sprinted through the woods, they either took one look at the expression on his face and removed themselves or he flew over them. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to Nick before the Sidhe did.

At last the cottage was in sight but Derek's relief was short-lived when he realized that the front door was hanging open. Derek ran inside and had to catch himself against the doorway, else his momentum was such that he would have barreled right through the whole structure. Breathing hard, he frantically searched the small space. It felt so cozy earlier, but right now it seemed as small as a coffin.

Small and depressingly empty.

The Precept slammed the door shut and went back outside to feel the hood of the car. It was cool, indicating that the automobile hadn't been run in some time. Turning in a circle as he searched the area, Derek noticed the now-empty fuel can carefully set to the side of the cottage's steps. Obviously, Nick had made it back from town.

Then where the hell was he!

The Dutchman jerked the cottage door open and went back inside. He picked up the phone and listened. Ironically, the telephones, now that it was apparently too late to warn Nick, were working. Derek frantically dialed and waited impatiently while the connection was made. "Come on, come on, answer damn you!" Alex picked up on the third ring.

"Derek---" she started to say, in delighted surprise.

"Alex, listen to me! Nick is missing," Alex made a startled noise but Derek didn't allow her to get a word in. "Listen, I don't have much time! You've got to find everything you can on the Shining Ones, Alex. No, wait a minute, first call the London House and tell them we need help. You care about Nick too, Alex, *make* them listen! His life depends on it--Oh my God!" Derek's eyes had been drawn to the window while he was speaking and he was startled to see a brilliant glow coming from some distance in the woods. The Precept dropped the phone and ran out into the night, ignoring Alex's frantic pleas for an explanation.

The glow was coming from the site of the fairy ring.

Derek's flight to the cottage had been frantic, but his dash to the fairy ring was even more frenzied. The Precept ran as fast as he could but felt as though he were moving in slow motion.

Derek, after all, was only mortal and mortals can't outrun fate.

The Dutchman reached the fairy ring, only to find the brilliant light fading into a feeble glow. The Dutchman thought he caught a vague impression of figures on horseback in the light, but it was too pale to tell for sure. As Derek fully entered the ring, even that meager glow faded, twirling down into a funnel before disappearing into a small pinprick of light, for all the world resembling water going a drain. Then even that tiny light disappeared with an audible *pop*, leaving Derek alone in the clearing.

Alone--except for a tiny band of silver left centered on the ground in the Sidhe circle. Derek took a couple of dazed steps forward and bent to pick the object up. He cradled it in the palm of his hand as he brought the mysterious piece up for inspection.

It was Nick's SEAL ring.

Derek fell to his knees, threw his head back, and howled his despair into the uncaring night.


"How is he?"

Despite their best efforts, it was late the next afternoon before Alex and Rachel could get to Glasmonadh. They'd been met at the airport by an unusually concerned William Sloan. Alex in particular was worried about their Precept. Rachel was too, but she wasn't the one that had heard how panicked the Dutchman's voice was when he'd made that call.

"He's........upset." Sloan was rather close-mouthed and wouldn't answer Alex's question more fully. He ushered the ladies into the waiting car, apparently wanting privacy before giving out details on Legacy business.

After Derek's interrupted call, Alex had reached the London House and was herself rather frantic by the time she'd gotten through to Sloan. She was an ocean and a continent away from her colleagues and they were in grave danger. What had Derek meant when he'd said "Oh my God"? And had he left the phone of his own free will or had someone or *something* taken him away by force?

Say what they would of William Sloan, but even his most vocal opponents had to admit that the man was a thorough professional. Alex had barely gotten her story out before he was marshalling a force of Legacy members to provide assistance.

When Ian Peggs, Kikuko Nohmura, and Cherise Malmgren had arrived from Edinburgh, they'd found the abandoned cottage. Luckily, Derek's sketches of the Sidhe site were on the table, so the trio was able to locate the fairy ring without too much difficulty.

They'd found Derek still in the center of the stone circle, rocking back and forth on his knees, Nick's ring pressed to his lips.

The San Francisco Precept was in shock and the members of the Edinburgh house took advantage of his condition to manhandle him back to the cottage. Derek fought them as best he could--he didn't want to leave the stone circle. In his dazed state, he equated it with leaving Nick and that he wouldn't do. But weakened as the Dutchman was, he couldn't force the issue and soon found himself bundled up in blankets in front of the rented cottage's fireplace.

What good was being warm when Nick was gone?

Sloan filled the women in on the details as the sedan made its way to Glasmonadh.

"So Nick is......gone?" Rachel asked.

"We think so. The Shining Ones don't venture out into the mortal world very often, but when they do leave the Hollow Hills, it's usually to hunt." The insensitive Sloan didn't stop at Rachel's gasp of horror. "From past encounters, we know that time works differently in their dwellings--it may even be that's why they're immortal......"

"But why would they kill Nick?" Alex wasn't going to wait through a lecture on fairy culture to find out what had happened to the man she considered her little brother.

It took Sloan a moment to realize the connection between "hunt" and "kill." "Oh, he's not dead. At least, we don't think he is."

"But you said he was gone!"

"Yes, I did and I meant that literally. The Shining Ones have been known to take a mortal back with them. That's what the hunt is for, to find a suitable human."

Some of Alex's curiosity returned as she realized that Nick was probably still alive. "What is considered 'suitable.'"

"That's something only the Sidhe know."

"Will they give him back?" Rachel asked, hope beginning to come return.

"Yes, we think so."

Both women smiled. "Then all we have to do is wait!" Rachel happily exclaimed.

"That's the problem." Sloan dryly announced as he burst their bubble of happiness. "The last time, the wait lasted 50 years."


Three days later, the situation was relatively unchanged. Or, unchanged in the most important respect in that Nick was still missing. Derek was inconsolable and his San Francisco colleagues were at a loss of how to help him. Certainly, they had expected to find Derek distraught. Under the circumstances, who wouldn't be? But when they arrived, the two women were shocked to find the Precept a shattered wreck of a man--a mere shell of the vital leader they knew and loved.

Every man has his breaking point and obviously losing Nick was Derek's. The Dutchman wouldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and barely acknowledged the world around him. Derek hadn't made a single protest when Sloan pulled the rest of the European team out of Glasmonadh. The head of the Legacy promised to keep researchers on the problem but couldn't afford to waste the personnel to stay on location, he explained, on an essentially closed case.

Alex and Rachel had seethed at Sloan's callousness, but Derek had barely blinked. How could he fault William's cold practicality when he himself was guilty of infinitely worse? Derek listed his mistakes to himself over and over again. *He* had selfishly asked Nick to accompany him to Scotland. *He* had planned the trip to Glasmonadh. *He* had insisted on investigating the fairy ring. *He* had ignored Nick's misgivings and insisted on splitting the two of them up, leaving the young man vulnerable and alone.

And, on the last day he got to spend with his love, he neglected to tell Nick he loved him.

Rachel had endured her fair share of heartbreak and she finally had had enough. Derek wasn't grieving, which would be a healthy outlet for his emotions. No, he was wallowing, which wasn't good for him and wasn't helping Nick at all either. On the morning of the fourth day of the ex-SEAL's disappearance, the psychiatrist decided to attempt to snap the Precept out of it.

Dr. Corrigan waited until Alex left the cottage to go into town for supplies. Somehow the older woman knew that Alex would be too soft-hearted for this "tough love" session. She wasn't looking forward to it herself, but it had to be done and the sooner the better.

The slender blonde set her jaw and marched over to where Derek was huddled on the bed. The Precept was unwashed, unshaved, and generally just unkept. He spent his time listlessly twirling Nick's SEAL ring around on his finger, a macabre parody of Nick's own nervous habit. Rachel put her hands on her hips and worked up as much moral indignation as was possible around the pity she felt for friend's misery. Hardening her heart, she began.

"Was it enough?" she asked him without preamble.

Rachel's belligerent tone of voice penetrated the Precept's fog of despondency. "What?" Derek rasped, his voice thick with unshed tears. The Dutchman had convinced himself that he didn't deserve to cry for Nick.

"Your two months together with Nick--was it enough?"

Derek was stunned. Rachel was usually the most compassionate of women. "What are you talking about?"

The petite blonde continued as though she hadn't heard him. "Because I had 15 *years* with Patrick and it wasn't *nearly* enough. I loved him so much that 15 *hundred* years wouldn't have been enough! Two months--are you that easily satisfied?!"

Derek was on his feet so quickly that he was standing before the thought to move was even complete. "You.....You......." Even at his most furious, Derek was too much of a gentleman to use the "B" world, which was what he really wanted to do. The gall of this little chit! However, he wasn't so much of a gentleman that he wouldn't yell at a woman when the situation warranted. "What makes you think that I don't love Nick as much as you did Patrick!"

Rachel stood toe-to-toe with Derek, not in the least bit intimidated by their difference in size. Outwardly she continued her contentious pose, but inwardly she was rejoicing. Derek was *feeling* again. Anything was better than the miasma he'd been in since the ex-SEAL was taken. Still, she had one more button to push.

"Because Nick's not dead, damn you! You still have a chance to bring him back, you just have to find out how."

At her words, all of the fight seeped out of Derek and he collapsed to a sitting position on the bed. "What the Shining Ones take into the Hollow Hills doesn't come out again. Not until *they* want it to." The Precept's voice was dull with reluctant conviction.

Rachel sat beside Derek and put her arm around his shoulders. "Says who?"

"All of the legends concur. Sloan verified it."

Rachel made a tisking sound with her tongue. "And you're going to let a second- rate, paper-pushing researcher like William Sloan have the final word on Nick's fate? That doesn't sound like the Derek Rayne I know."

As much as the words hurt, Derek knew that Rachel was right. In his grief, he'd let his own vague memories of past reading on the Sidhe convince him that William was right. He'd been defeated by his own guilt before even beginning to fight. Nick deserved better.

At realizing just how much more his lover deserved, Derek began to weep. "Oh God, Rachel, what am I going to do?"

Rachel drew the sobbing man's head to her shoulder, comforting him as she would her daughter, Kat. "I'll tell you what you're going to do--you're going to prove William Sloan wrong and get Nick back."

As Derek continued to cry out all of his pent up grief and worry, Rachel let out a sigh of relief. The wound in his heart had been lanced, although it hadn't been pleasant for either of them. Now the Precept needed to cleanse his soul with these healing tears. Once Derek had picked himself up and brushed himself off, the psychiatrist was sure he'd be back to his normal self and be fully capable of tackling the problem of how to get Nick back.

And then, as Nick would say, they would kick some serious fairy butt.

Concluded in Part 3


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