Free Whenever-kobo by Emily Evans

deepened. “It’s the sword, not the crown.” He withdrew an old sword from grooves in a stone ledge behind the pulpit. The blade made a rusty reluctant noise as it cleared its nesting spot. The metal was tarnished and chipped, but Sean stared at the sword with such fervor that the ruined thing must have looked like Excalibur to him. “And there’s a special phrase you say and then the blood of those meant to be on the throne takes you to where you are needed.” His gaze took a far-off cast. “I was little, but I saw it. They say I didn’t, but I did.”
    “Holy crap. Is that thing real? Like from a knight?” Austin put down the candlestick and reached for the ancient weapon. “Let me see.”
    Sean stepped out of reach. He walked toward Callum and, without saying anything. sliced the side of the rusty blade into Callum’s arm. A red gash appeared in his sleeve and blood oozed.
    Callum jerked back and clasped a hand over the cut. “Sean.” His voice sounded low and pissed.
    Lisette and I gasped.
    Austin stepped toward Sean. “What’s your damage?”
    Sean stared at his cousin. “Say the words, Callum. Stand by the altar and say the words.” He looked at us and swung the sword. “Move. Move down.”
    “Watch it,” Austin said. He joined Lisette and me at the base of the pulpit.
    Sean laid the sword on the altar and backed away.
    Callum said something foul and frowned. “Stop your games.”
    “Go on then.” Sean’s voice took on a fevered intensity and he moved down beside us, leaving Callum alone. “Say them.”
    Callum stared at him. “Are you mental?”
    I didn’t know what they were playing at, but I hoped Callum knew how to shut this down.
    The thought that this was some type of idiotic game gone too far died at Sean’s next move. Sean withdrew the pilot’s gun. He retreated toward the wall, his gaze on his cousin. “Say the words,” he repeated, his voice heavy with emotion. “You know them. All Cétchathachs know the verse.”
    Callum’s hands were out in a gesture of appeasement, but his eyes were angry.
    Sean held the gun in one hand and wrapped his other arm around himself. “You’re not of our blood, Callum. You’re not meant for the throne. I can prove it. I know it. I know it. Say the words.” His voice ended on a high pitch. “ ‘Send me where I’m needed.’ Say it.”
    Afternoon light shone in through a blue panel of stained glass, highlighting Callum’s dark brown hair with a blue light like an anime character. He extended his hands and said, “Send me where I’m needed.”
    Nothing happened.
    I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
    “Now in Irish,” Sean said, his voice softer, his tone more unnerving for the new calm.
    “ Sheoladh chugam nuair a Táim ag teastáil ,” Callum said.
    The breeze rustled through the church, and the sea birds cawed.
    Nothing happened.
    “I knew it.” Sean’s expression took on an outraged self-righteousness. “You’re not to be king. Your parents proved our family’s claim with the blood of our ancestors and then thought to put you on the throne. You are the pretender. Your father knew. He knew. Now we all know.”
    Callum paled.
    “Okay,” Lisette said and her voice held a squeak. “Maybe we should all eat now. Have dinner.”
    It was brave of her to speak, to try to ease the situation. I wanted to vomit.
    Sean’s head tilted to Lisette. “You next.”
    “What?” Lisette’s voice squeaked again.
    Sean gestured to the sword. “Shall I do it for you?”
    “She’s a girl,” Austin said as if that refuted any claim she might have to the throne. He moved a step toward Lisette. “Leave her out of this.”
    “Stop this madness,” Callum said. “Sean. End this now.”
    “Move.” Sean’s eyes appeared wilder and Callum shut up and took the two steps down from the altar.
    “There’s no need for this,” Callum said. “You’re acting like a loon. You’re scaring them.”
    Sean raised the gun and