Thirteen
The next evening, Finn jogged across the street to the Steels’ house, his shadow hurrying before him. Before he could get halfway up the brick walk, the front door opened. Rafe slipped out.
“Hey, Finn.” Glancing over his shoulder, he lowered his voice. “Are we still on for Monday morning?”
“Yeah. Gideon said to come over as soon as both your parents are gone. And bring those knives I gave you.”
“Are you talking about the training?” Savannah appeared behind Rafe. She made a face when they both shushed her. “Chill, guys. Mom’s back in the kitchen and Dad’s on the phone in his office.” Rubbing her hands, she grinned. “Can’t wait to get started. I always wanted to learn to throw a knife like they do in the movies.”
“Well, it’s a lot harder than it looks,” Finn said. “And it is not the best defense because, once you’ve thrown it, you’re out of weapons. Unless you have an extra blade.”
“Do you carry a knife all the time?” Rafe asked, signaling his sister to close the door.
Finn nodded. He glanced around the neighborhood, then bent over and tugged his pant leg up, revealing the ankle sheath and blade.
“This way I can be armed, but it’s not as obvious as my belt sheath. Gideon wears one like this once in a while, too.” He pulled the denim back over it.
Just in time. The door opened. Rufus Steel stuck his head out. “There you are, Finn. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Yes, sir. And thanks for inviting me,” he added, remembering Gideon’s instructions. His grin became forced when he noticed Mr. Steel examining his face. Again. Resentment surged through him. I wish he’d stop doing that. I know he thinks he’s helping me, but it’s starting to tick me off. Gideon would never hurt me. Why can’t they see that? “What? Do I have something on my nose?” he asked with a trace of defiance.
“Why, no. Not at all.” He waved them inside. “You three go on back to the kitchen. Savannah, tell Mom I’ll be in to help in a few minutes.” He disappeared back into the office.
“What’s wrong, Finn?” Rafe whispered as they headed to the kitchen. “You look mad about something.”
“I just…I just wish your dad would stop with the whole ‘save the kid from the evil guardian’ campaign he’s on.”
“Hey, he’s only trying to help.” A note of defense crept into Rafe’s voice.
“Well, it’s getting on my nerves,” Finn snapped back.
“Um, guys?” Savannah made a shushing motion with her hand. “Enough already. Save it for the Amandán.”
Finn and Rafe exchanged silent apologies as they walked into the kitchen.
Gleaming stainless-steel appliances reflected the dark wood of the cabinets. An island, complete with its own sink and marble countertop, took up the center of the room, while a large bay window overlooked the back yard. I think three of our kitchens would fit in here, thought Finn. Dr. Steel looked up from the cooked chicken she was slicing and gave him a warm smile.
“Ah, good evening, Finn. How are you?” Her voice held a hint of an accent, not quite British, not quite German.
“Fine, thanks, Dr. Steel.”
She raised a delicate eyebrow at him. “Dr? I thought we had agreed on Mrs. as a compromise. Although, I would still be happy with a simple Susanna.”
Right. And Gideon would be totally okay with that, Finn thought, imagining his master’s reaction if he heard his apprentice addressing adults by their first names, Mac Roth excluded. “I mean, Mrs. Steel.” He watched her for a moment. “Can I help? I’m pretty good with a knife.” He kept a straight face when Rafe and Savannah snorted.
“Thank you, but no. I’m about finished here. Rafe, set the table, please. Savannah, give the mielie pap another stir, would you?” As his friends bustled about, Finn took a seat at the counter on a tall stool and watched the doctor while she worked. Her hands flew as she chopped and diced with the skill of the surgeon she was, dumping the pieces of meat into a large bowl next to her.
“Wow, you’re fast,” Finn commented after a few minutes.
“Why, thank you. Cooking is a bit of a hobby of mine. I find it relaxing after a long day at the hospital.” She tasted a sample. “Hmm. Needs a dash more lemon pepper. Finn, would you fetch it for me? It’s in the spice drawer to the left of the stove.”
“Sure.”
As he slid off the stool, his pant leg rode up against one of the rungs, exposing the knife at his ankle. At that moment, Mr. Steel walked into the kitchen. Finn’s breath caught in his throat when the man spotted the weapon. Their eyes met.
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Finn yanked his pant leg back down.
“Why are you carrying a knife under your clothes?”
Behind the man, Rafe and Savannah exchanged looks of alarm. Mrs. Steel’s hands froze over the cutting board. Silence filled the room, broken only by the burble of the cooking porridge.
Mr. Steel stepped closer and laid a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Look, I’m not okay with you bringing a weapon into my home. So, I’ll ask you again. Why are you packing?”
“Dad,” Rafe protested. “He’s not—”
“Quiet.” Mr. Steel threw a stern glance at his son, then turned his focus back to Finn. He lowered his voice. “Are you carrying it for… protection?”
Easing out from under the man’s hand, Finn stepped back and raised his chin. “Protection from whom?”
“You tell me.”
Torn between defending his master and not wanting to insult his best friend’s father, Finn hesitated, then tightened his jaw and said nothing. His eyes flickered once to Rafe and Savannah, then to Mrs. Steel. To his surprise, a faint line appeared between her brows, as if she were trying to remember something. For a moment, she stared at his eyes, then at his torc, her head tilted to one side. Her frown deepened.
Before she could speak, Finn looked away. “Maybe I should leave,” he said through stiff lips. Without waiting for an answer, he darted around Mr. Steel and headed for the front door, ignoring his shout to come back and talk about it.
Bursting out into the early evening, he broke into a sprint. He reached his gate and flung it open with a clang, his stomach twisting like the Celtic knot adorning their front door. Confusion made his feet clumsy as he hurried up the steps to the porch.
Slipping inside the screen door, he paused to listen, then headed toward the kitchen. He hovered in the doorway. At the sink, Gideon was humming to himself over the clatter of dishes and running water.
“Gideon?”
The Knight glanced over a shoulder in surprise. “Back so soon, then?” He narrowed his eyes. “And I take it from the expression on your face that something is amiss?”
“Yeah.” Finn sighed. He looked down and picked at the healing scar on his palm.
“Come, speak with me.” Gideon plucked a towel from the counter and dried his hands, then motioned for Finn to follow him outside.
Taking a seat on the top of the picnic table, master and apprentice sat side by side, both watching the sun inching toward the top of the foothills. As Finn explained, the Knight sat in silence, rubbing his knuckles along his jaw.
“So…so then I just left. I didn’t know what to say to them.” He peeked up at his master out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t we just tell them the truth about us?”
“I’ve told you before, boyo. They’ll not be believing us.” Before Finn could reply, a knock sounded from the front of the house. “That is most likely Steel.”
Hopping down, Finn followed his master inside. “What are you going to say to him?”
“As little as possible,” Gideon said darkly.
Mr. Steel stood on the porch, peering through the screen. At the sight of the Knight, he stiffened. “Lir. We need to talk.”
“Go ahead, then.”
“In private.”
“Unless ye’ve a wee person in yer pocket, this is as private as we are going to be, Rufus Steel.” Finn noticed his mas
ter’s accent deepened.
The man blew out a breath in frustration. “Have it your way.” Studying them through the screen, he said, “Finn, I think you’re a good kid, but you are no longer allowed in my house. And the twins are not allowed to see you or hang out with you or even call you. Not until I am satisfied with what’s going on here.” Before either Tuatha De Danaan could speak, he continued. “And, yes, I called the Department of Human Services. There’s no way a boy his age should have that many cuts and bruises and who knows what other injuries.”
Gideon growled. “Now, wait a moment—”
“I got them during training,” Finn yelled, interrupting his master. “And while hunting!”
“Hunting what?” Mr. Steel replied in disbelief. “We live in a suburban neighborhood, for goodness’ sake. So unless you’re hunting some kind of…of creature that can disguise itself, I’m not buying it. I’m sorry.” Without another word, he turned and marched away.
Anger and hurt sliced through Finn. He pressed his lips into a thin line when his master started to speak.
“This is why being friends with—”
“I know,” Finn snapped back. “You told me that before. So, give it a break, will you?” Before Gideon could stomp on him for being rude, he whirled around and ran upstairs to his room.
Fourteen
Slamming his door, Finn stalked over to the window and stared, unseeing, out across the yard. My life totally sucks. Sucks, sucks, sucks. Gideon keeps secrets from me. Mr. Steel won’t let me hang out with Rafe. And oh yeah, let’s not forget about the whole Iona-Amandán-Spear thing. He began bouncing his forehead against the glass. Plus now I’m in trouble for mouthing off. The rhythmic thumping masked the sound of the door opening behind him.
“Finnegan MacCullen.”
Finn jumped and whirled around. Gideon stood there in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. His expression sent a chill of uneasiness through Finn.
“Yes, sir?”
“Do you know what happens to apprentices who are disrespectful to their masters?”
“They get thrown upside down into the nearest river you can find?”
In spite of himself, Gideon’s mouth twitched. He quickly subdued it. “Oh, so, now we’re adding cheeky to the pot of trouble you’ve brewed for yourself, are we?”
The low rumble of a vehicle pulling into their driveway drew their attention. Doors slammed shut, followed a moment later by a knock on the front screen. Gideon walked out of the room. Finn hesitated, then trailed behind. Reaching the foot of the stairs, he broke into a grateful smile at the figure speaking with his master in the entryway.
“Ah, good,” Mac Roth boomed. “I am glad ye two are home.” He held up several pizza boxes. The not-unpleasant aroma of hot pepperoni mixed with steaming cardboard wafted through the air. Behind him, Lochlan stood with a bulging plastic bag dangling from one hand. “When I asked the boyo what he would like for supper to celebrate his first day, he asked for pizza. Now, can ye believe that?”
“What’s wrong with pizza? It’s got all four food groups.” Lochlan peered around the Knights. Spotting Finn by the steps, he gave a grin and a nod.
“Fáilte,” Finn replied, without thinking, then winced. Oh, real smooth. He mentally slapped himself upside the head. Like anyone younger than three hundred years old even says that anymore. His eyes widened when Lochlan began jabbering away in Gaelic.
With a look of delight, Gideon responded. “And where did you learn to speak so fine?” he asked, switching to English.
“Mom. She wanted all of us kids to learn ‘the auld tongue,’” Lochlan said in a passable accent.
“Would ye look at the young braggart.” Mac Roth shook his head, then hefted the boxes in his hands. “Since the pizza restaurant was offering a two-for-one special, we decided to come share our bounty with ye.” He grinned when Finn moaned in anticipation.
“Sodas, too,” Lochlan held up the bag with a rustle.
They made their way to the kitchen. Pausing to let the Knights go first, Finn fell in beside Lochlan. They studied each other out of the corners of their eyes. When they passed the fireplace, Lochlan paused.
“Insane,” he breathed, looking up at the row upon row of weapons. “My dad said there’s a rumor Gideon Lir might have the Spear in his collection, but nobody really knows which one it is.”
“Well, it’s not any of those, I can tell you that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
With Lochlan on his heels, Finn led the way to the kitchen. Taking the bag from the other boy, he placed it on the counter and pulled glasses out of the cupboard. As Lochlan went over to the table to help his master with the pizza, Gideon joined Finn.
“Look, I know I was rude earlier, and I’m sorry,” Finn said in an undertone before the Knight could speak. “But could you wait and yell at me after they leave? Please?” He held his breath as he waited for the verdict, then let it out in relief when Gideon gave a brief nod. They turned around at an angry bark from Mac Roth.
“And just what do ye think ye’re doing, Lochlan O’Neill? Helping yerself so freely?” He glared at his apprentice, who stood by the table already chowing down, one hand holding half a slice.
“Eating,” Lochlan mumbled around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni. He swallowed. “That’s kind of the whole purpose of buying a pizza, Big Mac.” He took another bite.
Finn’s jaw dropped. Next to him, Gideon coughed, trying to smother his laughter.
The redheaded Knight blinked. “Big Mac?”
Lochlan grinned. “I thought it up this morning. Pretty good, uh?” His smile dimmed as his master’s face grew as fiery as his beard. “What?”
Finn jumped when Gideon snagged his elbow and tugged him toward the back door. Ushering the boy ahead of him, he closed it hastily. “We best give them a moment alone.” A roar of indignation from Mac Roth, followed by Lochlan protesting that he wasn’t being disrespectful, just funny, escaped through the kitchen window.
Laughing, Finn and Gideon headed to the back wall. The woods beyond were full of birds singing their mates home for the evening. Finn hoisted himself up, kicking his heels against the stones. Gideon took a stance next to him, resting an elbow on the bronze sheeting as he gazed back at the house. For a few minutes, they stayed in silence.
“You got to admit it, Gideon, that was pretty funny.” Finn chuckled. “Big Mac. I wonder what Mac Roth is going to do—”
A crow soared past their heads. It croaked once, circled above the house, then returned, landing with a clap of midnight wings on the wall next to them. Bobbing and bowing, it cawed a second time, then pointed its beak upward as three more joined it.
The hair on Finn’s arms stood at attention. Swallowing through a suddenly dry mouth, he slid off the wall and landed in a crouch, one hand going for his weapon. Next to him, Gideon stared into the forest, his blade already drawn.
Half a dozen more birds dive-bombed the wall and shoved into place. With needled beaks, they poked and stabbed at each other like miniature Tuatha De Danaan turned to the dark side. The cawing grew louder.
Gideon motioned to Finn. “Fetch me a dagger and Mac Roth.”
Finn sprinted across the yard. Flinging the door open, he threw himself inside. “Amandán,” he yelled as he bolted past. Mac Roth was already out the door, with Lochlan on his heels, by the time he reached the living room. Snatching Gideon’s dagger from the rack, he paused, then grabbed a hatchet. Tearing back through the now-empty kitchen, he raced across the yard toward the trio clustered around the gate in the corner.
“Good lad,” Mac Roth said as Finn handed him the hatchet. “I was about to send Lochlan for this.” He hefted it in one hand; the other held a hunting knife.
“How many?” Finn panted as Gideon took the dagger from him.
“Enough to make the evening interesting, if the crows are any indication.” Even as he spoke, the flock rose into the air and soared off, their for
ms black against the indigo sky. They headed west.
“Awesome. Maybe I can nail one and earn my torc,” Lochlan said, testing a thumb gingerly on the edge of his knife. “And get my dad off my case about it.”
Jealousy nipped at Finn. “Yeah, right. Like you’re going hunting your first day as an apprentice.”
Gideon looked at Mac Roth, a question in his eyes. The Knight shrugged.
“Well, I must admit, Lochlan has been well-trained; he gave quite a demonstration this morning during his ceremony.” Mac Roth tucked the handle of the hatchet into his belt as he studied his apprentice. “I think we should allow him to come along. After all, we’ve three warriors to look after him,” he added, pointing his knife at Finn’s torc with a trace of a wink.
Pride swelled Finn’s heart at Mac Roth’s words. “Seems like I’ll be babysitting another O’Neill,” he joked.
Lochlan snorted. “I just hope you do a better job with me than you did with Asher.” Color drained from his face as soon as the words tumbled from his mouth. “Oh, crap. Look, Finn, I didn’t mean it that way…” His voice trailed off.
Remorse twisted Finn’s guts. But it’s true, he thought. It was my fault Asher got killed. I wasn’t fast enough. Or maybe I really did wish him dead. “No worries,” he said to Lochlan through stiff lips. He stooped down, pretending to tighten his shoelaces. Schooling his face, he straightened and nodded to his master. “Okay, all set.”
Hesitating for a moment, Gideon started to speak, then stopped. “Right,” he said instead. He pulled the gate open and stepped out onto the trail running parallel to the wall. The others joined him.
He led the way along the path as it turned and plunged into the ravine and up the other side. Setting a brisk pace, he headed westward into the woods, following the flight of the crows. Finn trotted behind, one eye on his master and one on the thick vegetation screening the trail. The evening breeze flowing down from the foothills rattled the dry leaves, making him jerk his head around at each rustle. Several yards behind, Lochlan matched him stride for stride, while Mac Roth stumped along as rear guard.
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