Chapter 2: The Blacksmith, the Banshee, and the Worst Coffee Run Ever

The morning sun was a liar, painting Ashwick in warm golden hues like it wasn’t about to throw me into the deep end of supernatural nonsense. I was trailing behind Lirien, who strode through town with the confidence of someone who could literally scare death away. Her skull was tucked under her arm, the green glow in its eye sockets dimmed to a faint shimmer in the daylight. 

Nightshade clopped along beside us, drawing stares from early risers. I couldn’t blame them a headless woman, a massive black horse, and me, a disheveled waiter in a stained hoodie, weren’t exactly Ashwick’s usual morning commute.“So,” I said, jogging to keep up with Lirien’s long strides, “where are we going? You said you had a lead on a blacksmith, but I’m pretty sure the closest thing we’ve got is Old Man Jenkins, who fixes lawnmowers in his garage.

”Lirien’s skull snorted, the sound echoing weirdly without a throat. “Jenkins? Nah, I need someone with actual skills. There’s a guy on the edge of town Rusty Cal. Used to shoe horses for the fae back in the day. If anyone can fix Nightshade’s hoof, it’s him. “The fae?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like, fairies? You’re telling me Ashwick’s got a secret fairy blacksmith? “Not secret,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Just… selective. 

Mortals don’t usually notice what’s right under their noses. You included, apparently. “Hey, I noticed you,” I shot back, then immediately regretted it when her skull’s grin widened. “Aw, Felix, you sweet-talker. Keep that up, and I might keep you around longer than I planned. ”My face burned, and I pretended to study a nearby mailbox to hide it. Was I actually flirting with a headless reaper? And was she flirting back? My life had taken a sharp left turn into a fantasy novel, and I wasn’t sure if I was the hero or the comic relief.

We reached the edge of Ashwick, where the pavement gave way to gravel and the houses got shabbier. Rusty Cal’s place was less a house and more a fortress of junk rusted car parts, broken furniture, and what looked like a dismantled tractor littered the yard. A sign reading “CAL’S FIX-IT” hung crookedly over a shed that smelled like oil and regret. Nightshade snorted, clearly unimpressed.Lirien didn’t bother knocking.

 She pushed open the shed door, revealing a cavernous space lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs. Tools hung on the walls, and a forge glowed in the corner, casting eerie shadows. At the center stood a man who looked like he’d been forged himself broad-shouldered, with a beard that could hide a small ecosystem. He wore a leather apron and was hammering a red-hot piece of metal with enough force to make my teeth rattle. “Rusty!” Lirien called, her skull’s voice cutting through the clang of metal. “Got a job for you! ”The man Rusty, I presumed looked up, his eyes narrowing. 

“Lirien? Hell’s bells, what’re you doing in my shop? Last time you showed up, I had pixies in my chimney for a month. “Pixies love you,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “This is Felix, my… assistant.” She glanced at me, and I could’ve sworn her skull winked. “Nightshade threw a shoe. Can you fix it? ”Rusty wiped his hands on his apron and squinted at me. “This kid? He don’t look like he could assist his way out of a paper bag.

“Rude,” I muttered, but I didn’t argue. I was still processing the fact that I was in a shed with a dullahan and a guy who apparently dealt with fairies on the regular. Rusty inspected Nightshade’s hoof, muttering about “shoddy mortal craftsmanship.” Then he fixed me with a stare. “You. Kid. Fetch me a coffee from that diner down the road. Black, no sugar. I ain’t working on an empty tank.”I blinked. “You’re sending me on a coffee run? Now? “You want the horse fixed or not?” he growled. 

“Move it. ”Lirien’s skull laughed. “Better hop to it, Felix. Rusty’s grumpy without his caffeine. ”Grumbling, I trudged back into town, my sneakers crunching on gravel. The diner my diner was a ten-minute walk, and I was already dreading the look my boss, Marge, would give me for showing up on my day off. As I pushed open the door, the bell jingled, and Marge’s voice boomed from the counter. “Felix Carver, you better not be here to beg for your shift back! “Not begging!” I called, sliding into a booth. “Just… need a coffee. 

Black, no sugar.”Marge raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. That’s when I noticed the woman in the corner booth. She was pale, almost translucent, with hair like moonlight and eyes that seemed to see right through me. She was sipping a milkshake, which was weird because the diner didn’t serve milkshakes at 9 a.m. Her gaze locked onto mine, and a chill ran down my spine.“Uh, hi?” I said, because apparently I’m an idiot who talks to creepy strangers.

She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made you want to check your pockets for your soul. “You’re with her, aren’t you?” Her voice was like a lullaby laced with razor blades.“Her? You mean Lirien?” I asked, my mouth moving before my brain could catch up. The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Lirien. That headless menace. Tell her Siobhan says hello… and that she’s not welcome in Ashwick. ”Before I could ask what the hell that meant, Marge slammed a to-go cup on the counter. 

“Coffee’s up, Felix. Stop flirting with the weirdos. ”I grabbed the coffee and bolted, my head spinning. Siobhan? Was she another dullahan? A ghost? A really intense health inspector? By the time I got back to Rusty’s shed, I was sweating despite the morning chill. Inside, things had gone from weird to weirder. Lirien was arguing with Rusty, her skull glowing brighter with every word. “What do you mean, you need a phoenix feather? That wasn’t part of the deal! ”Rusty crossed his arms. “Nightshade’s no ordinary horse, Lirien. Her shoes need a spark of magic to hold.

 You want it done right, you get me a feather. ”I held up the coffee like a peace offering. “Uh, got your coffee. Also, some lady named Siobhan says hi and that you’re not welcome here. ”Lirien’s skull snapped toward me, the glow in its eyes flaring. “Siobhan? That banshee bitch? What’s she doing in Ashwick? “Banshee?” I squeaked. “Like, screaming death omen banshee? ”Rusty took the coffee and sipped it, unfazed. “Yup. Siobhan’s been hanging around lately, scaring off my customers. 

You two stirred up her nest, didn’t you? “Not my fault!” Lirien snapped. “She’s had it out for me since that incident in Dublin. Long story.”I raised a hand. “Hold up. You’ve got beef with a banshee, and now she’s mad at me? I just wanted to help fix a horse shoe! ”Lirien’s skull sighed. “Relax, Felix. Siobhan’s all bark and no bite. Well, mostly scream and no bite. We’ll deal with her later. First, we need that phoenix feather. “And where exactly do we get one of those?” I asked, already regretting every life choice that led me here.

Rusty grinned, showing teeth that looked like they’d been filed by a chainsaw. “There’s a guy in the woods outside town. Calls himself the Collector. He’s got all sorts of magical junk. But he’s… eccentric. “Eccentric how?” I asked, dreading the answer.“Let’s just say he likes to barter,” Lirien said, her voice grim. “And he’s got a thing for shiny objects. And souls. “Cool, cool,” I said, my voice cracking. “So, we’re going to meet a creepy magic hoarder who might want my soul. Awesome. ”Lirien’s skull tilted, and I could almost feel her smirking. “Don’t worry, Felix.

 I’ll protect you. Probably.”An hour later, we were trekking through the woods, Nightshade trailing behind us. Lirien had insisted on coming along, claiming she didn’t trust me not to “screw this up.” I was starting to think she just liked messing with me. The forest was dense, the air thick with the smell of pine and something faintly metallic. Every rustle made me jump, expecting Siobhan or worse to leap out. “So,” I said, trying to fill the silence, “what’s the deal with you and Siobhan? She seemed pretty pissed.

”Lirien’s skull groaned. “Old drama. Back in the 1800s, we both worked for the same underworld boss. I got promoted, she didn’t. She’s been holding a grudge ever since. Banshees are dramatic. “The 1800s?” I stopped walking. “How old are you? ”Rude to ask a lady her age,” she said, but her voice was teasing. “Let’s just say I’ve seen a few centuries. Keeps things interesting.

”I tried to wrap my head around that. Lirien was immortal, or close to it, and here I was, a mortal nobody crushing on her like a teenager. Before I could dwell on it, we reached a clearing. In the center stood a shack that looked like it had been built by a magpie with a hoarding problem every surface was covered in trinkets, from glittering jewels to rusted bottle caps. The door creaked open, and a man stepped out. He was tall, thin, and dressed in a patchwork coat that shimmered like oil on water. 

His eyes glinted with a hunger that made my skin crawl. “Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “A dullahan and her pet mortal. What brings you to the Collector’s humble abode? ”Lirien held up her skull. “We need a phoenix feather. Name your price.”The Collector’s smile widened. “Oh, I don’t deal in coin. I want something… unique. Perhaps a memory? Or a piece of your soul, dullahan? ”I gulped. This was going to be a long day.