The Obsidian Dagger Read Free

his children shaking off the droplets of water. Most of the passengers on the small connecting flight were walking a short distance to the baggage carousal.
    Grumpy and damp passengers congregated around the circular cone that the Dublin airport used. The bags shot out of a window that was fed by a conveyor belt and then slid down to the cone to the waiting travelers. Their baggage had yet to come down and people around them didn’t seem to be in patient moods.
    â€œGreat. No bags yet,” grumbled a large man with a thick Scottish accent. The big Scotsman grabbed a rail-thin airport worker by the arm as the young man was strolling by and said, “Hey, when are they going to get our bags off the plane?”
    To his credit, the skeletal airport employee didn’t show any signs of intimidation and jerked his arm free before he answered. “They’ll get it when they get it, now won’t they?”
    â€œBah!” retorted the Scot.
    Brendan smiled at the encounter as the employee continued his stroll, apparently unaffected, to join his buddies standing near a cute blonde that manned the gate.
    â€œDad, who knows when these yahoos are going to get our bags off,” observed Lizzie.
    As if on queue, the skinny employee started jumping around and making donkey noises in the midst of his conversation. His buddies laughed, but the passengers only grumbled.
    â€œWe could be here for hours,” Lizzie continued.
    â€œWell, then that’s going to give me time to go and get the rental car.” Oscar patted Brendan on the shoulder and said, “I’ll probably need some help driving on this trip, Son.”
    Brendan’s eyes lit up. “You serious?”
    â€œSure,” smiled Oscar. “That’s, of course, if you can handle the power of the vehicle they give me. I already put you down as a second driver.”
    â€œSweet!”
    â€œYou guys hang out here and get the bags. I’ll meet you at the pick-up gate in twenty minutes.” Oscar walked away studying the printout he had of the car rental company’s confirmation email.
    Lizzie and Brendan walked over to the baggage carousal once sounds could be heard from the conveyor window. Moments later, a few bags began to plop out and land at the bottom of the cone. A few people scurried up to grab their bags, including the big Scot. He ambled up, and just as he took his bag by the handle, a large golf bag tumbled down and smashed him in the face.
    â€œWhoa! Did you see that?” laughed Lizzie.
    â€œWhat in the bloody hell was that?” The Scot bellowed toward the crowd of workers.
    The thin employee strolled over to the big man. “Is there a problem here?”
    â€œYou bet there is,” huffed the Scot. “I got hit in the face by a bloody golf bag!” The large man’s eyes were small in his pillowy cheeks but they were intense and fixed on the young airport worker.
    â€œWell, sir, just maybe you should have moved your big, fat face out of the way.”
    The Scot’s face grew to a bright red and a low growl rumbled in his throat. Brendan looked on with the rest of the crowd and waited for the large guy to either choke the thin guy or blow his top like a volcano.
    â€œYou rude, little son of a…” the large Scot began to move toward the worker when an alarm with a rotating yellow light burst to life above the conveyor window. The worker and the Scot glanced up at the window and saw that there was a luggage backup.
    â€œDon’t worry, folks. I’ve got this,” boasted the young worker. He began climbing over bags that already sat upon the cone, not being cautious or overly concerned about smashing the contents until he reached the window. “Why do you always have to do this, Bessie? You’re making me look bad.”
    The big Scot glowered at the young man while everyone else just exchanged curious glances. The worker began tugging on different bags, trying