Gideon slowed, scanning the addresses. With a grunt of discovery, he pulled up in front of a two-story house. A wide porch welcomed visitors. In the driveway sat a Saab sports car tucked under a blanket of white.
“They live here?” Finn looked out his window. “It looks so… so…human.”
“I believe that’s the point.” Gideon leaned over to peer past Finn. “As Basil explained it to me once, they wish to blend in. It makes it easier for them to guard the mortals under their care.”
“Maybe they could help guard the Steel family from the goblins.”
“I had thought of that, but the Amandán are our ancient enemies. And we are responsible for their hatred of the Steels. Therefore, it is our responsibility to protect the family. As best we can.”
“Until when?”
“Sorry?”
Finn played with the zipper on his vest. “What if this pack of Amandán never stops gunning for the Steels?”
“One problem at a time, boyo. Right now, we’ve a pair of Knights guarding our friends. Knights that are more than a match for those beasties. Why, Kel O’Shea could handle the pack single-handed armed with just her bow. And Mac Roth is an army unto himself. Cease your fretting and let us concentrate on getting you through the first trial.”
A new worry filled Finn. “What if the angels won’t help us?”
“As I said, one ford at a time, boyo.”
Finn climbed out of the truck and followed Gideon along the brick path toward the porch. Their boots clumped hollowly on the wooden treads.
Gideon knocked on the front door. No answer. He waited a moment, then knocked again.
Next to him, Finn fidgeted from foot to foot. “I guess they’re not home…” His voice trailed off at a whooshing sound behind him. He whirled around. A sharp gust of wind sent flakes swirling around his face, blinding him. He blinked.
Two figures stood in the middle of the yard, as if they had simply appeared out of thin air. Which they probably did, Finn thought.
The taller and older of the two, rangy but fit, wore a jacket straight from the pages of a high-end sporting goods catalog. A black patch covered his left eye. It contrasted sharply with his cropped white hair, but seemed to fit his rugged countenance.
The other figure was an older teen boy. Broad-shouldered in a way that Finn envied, the teen had dark brown hair, ruffled as if he had been caught in a high wind. Panting, he wiped his forehead. Surprisingly, he was wearing nothing more than jeans, athletic shoes, and a long-sleeved Henley, as if the cold and snow bothered him not at all.
“Gideon Lir.” The taller of the two men strode forward, hand outstretched to meet Gideon and Finn as they walked back down the steps. His voice held a distinctive English accent. “A pleasure to see you again.”
“Basil.” Gideon shook hands. “I would speak with you and your apprentice, if I may.” Finn noticed his master was trying not to stare at the eye patch on the angel’s face.
“Of course.” Basil smiled down at Finn. “And hello again, young Finnegan.”
“Hi, uh, sir.” Finn stammered, not sure how to address him. “And I go by Finn, not Finnegan.”
“Finn. A fine nickname.” The angel’s blue eyes—actually, eye—twinkled. “Please, call me Basil.”
Griffin joined them. “‘Finn,’ huh? This could get confusing.” He held out a hand to Gideon. “I’m Griffin, sir. Basil’s apprentice. Céad mile Fáilte. And that’s the only Gaelic I know, so don’t be too impressed.”
“Won’t you two come in?” Basil gestured toward the house, stepping aside to let the Fey precede him. Out of the corner of his eye, Finn saw the older angel place a hand on Griffin’s shoulder, leaning closer to speak in a low, questioning tone.
“Nah, I’m good. I just…” Griffin huffed out a long breath, as if in frustration. “I just want all this to end, you know? So we can go back to being guardian angels instead of avenging angels.”
“I, as well.” Basil patted his shoulder. “Have faith that we will be victorious in the end.”
Wondering what they were talking about, Finn followed his master. Once inside, he looked around. A small but tidy entryway greeted them, complete with bench and coat hooks. Beyond, a hallway led to a flight of stairs. Off to the right side, a door opened into what looked like a study, while a wide archway to the left revealed the living room.
“Tea, Gideon? Or coffee, perhaps? I am afraid I cannot offer you anything stronger.” Basil led them into the living room. Not much larger than their home, but better appointed, the room was cozy with overstuffed furniture, lots of books, a modern television, and an ornate fireplace framed in handcrafted tiles. Logs, with kindling stuffed around and under them, awaited lighting.
“Thank you. Tea would be fine.” As Basil’s gesture, Gideon took a seat on the sofa. The angel sat nearby in a wingback. “You seem to have acquired a new look.” He pointed at the eye patch on Basil’s face.
“Ah, yes. Well. We’ve had a bit of a run-in with a radical faction of angels last summer. Fortunately, they’ve gone to ground these last few months. Just a stray rogue once in a while to contend with. That’s where we were when you arrived.”
Finn saw a cloud darken Griffin’s face. The older apprentice’s jaw tightened. Basil must have noticed it, too, for he made a slight movement with his hand, as if saying let it go.
“Griffin?” Basil gestured at the fireplace. “If you would do the honors?”
“Sure.” The younger angel walked closer and pointed a finger at the logs. With a whoosh, a thin stream of fire shot from his fingertip. It licked at the logs, hungry for a meal, before settling in to feed. “I’ll get the tea going.” To Finn’s surprise, Griffin cocked his head toward another doorway at the far end of the room. “Finn? Want to give me a hand?”
Finn threw a quick glance at Gideon, who nodded. Following the older boy through the doorway, he glanced around at the tidy but up-to-date kitchen for a house of that vintage. He stood in the center of the room, uncertain, until Griffin pointed at the round wooden table.
“Just hang for a moment. I got this covered.” After lighting the burner on the stove with another snap of his fingers, he put the kettle on, then joined Finn at the table.
Griffin studied him, his brown eyes slightly narrowed, as if searching. Finn shifted in his seat.
“You’re part human.” It was a statement, not a question.
Finn’s mouth fell open. “Half. Well, technically, one-fourth. My mom was half. How did you know?”
“Humans have this…this…air about them. I mean, being His favorites and all that.”
“More than you guys?”
Griffin snorted. “Dude, we’re Terrae Angeli. We’re the lowest of the low in the heavenly hierarchy.” At Finn’s look of confusion, he continued. “Look. First, you got the mortals. They’re ahead of everybody. And everything. Then, you got the celestial angels. You know. The winged wonders. Then, there’s us. We’re the first line of defense down here on earth. The ones that do the dirty, day-to-day work of guarding humans.”
“What’s ‘Terrae Angeli’ mean?”
“It’s Latin for ‘earth angel.’ We’re known by that title because we control the four ancient elements. You know of them?”
“Oh, yeah.” Finn studied Griffin. “So, do you control all four elements?”
“No, just two. See, there are two kinds of Terrae Angeli. I’m an Earth and Fire angel. Basil,” he glanced over at the doorway, “is a Wind and Water.” Still looking at the doorway and the murmur of deeper voices exchanging pleasantries about the changes they had seen over the last one hundred years in High Springs, he grinned. “Together, we make a pretty good team, my Mentor and me.”
Like Gideon and me, Finn thought. Maybe he’ll be willing to help us, after all. “How long have you been an apprentice?”
Griffin’s smile faded. An odd expression flitted across his face as he ran a thumb along a scar on the corner of his lower lip. “Four years now. I’ve been
with Basil since I was thirteen.”
“Hey, that’s when we start our apprenticeships, too.”
“Actually, we begin our training when we’re ten years old. I, um…I had another Mentor before Basil,” he said, his voice low and flat as if he was remembering something.
“What happened?” Finn asked before he could stop himself.
“Let’s just say it wasn’t a very good situation.” Griffin shook himself. “But it worked out for the best. Or, as Basil would say, it worked out as it was meant to.”
The kettle began whistling. As Griffin rose, Basil called from the other room. “Griffin? Please prepare a proper tray this time, there’s a good lad.”
“I know,” Griffin called back, then lowered his voice. “He’s being all über-English, probably because of your master’s Irish background.”
Finn thought back to all the less than flattering comments his master had made about anyone with English connections. He decided not to mention that.
A few minutes later, Griffin carried a tray laden with cups, a plate of biscuits—which looked a lot like cookies to Finn—and a steaming teapot of Earl Grey into the living room and set it on the coffee table. Finn joined his master on the sofa. Meanwhile, Griffin perched on the arm of the other wingback across from Basil until a pointed look from his mentor made him take a seat.
After everyone had helped themselves to refreshments, Basil spoke. “So, how may we be of service?”
Gideon took a sip. The delicate porcelain looked out of place in his battle-hardened hands. “I have an odd request. I would ask for some hair from your apprentice.”
Basil’s one eye widened in surprise. “I beg your pardon?” He and Griffin exchanged looks of confusion.
“A strand of Griffin’s hair,” Gideon repeated. “It is needed for a potion that would enable Finn to control fire. The lad must demonstrate mastery over that element. Before the end of the month. We seek your help.”
“Control fire?” Griffin frowned. “Why?”
As Gideon explained the reason behind the request, Finn noticed Basil examining him and his master. When his master finished up with the account of the meeting with Iona the previous night and its outcome, Basil leaned forward and placed his cup on the table. For a long moment, the only sound was the pop-crackle of the flames. Then, he spoke.
“While I would not wish to insult your people’s ancient custom, Knight Lir, it seems a cruel thing to take Finn from your side.” He tilted his head at Finn. “This young man whom you consider practically a son.”
Finn blushed at the words. He blushed even harder when Gideon nodded.
“Aye, I do.”
“I understand.” Basil’s eye flicked once toward Griffin. He rose and stood gazing into the fire. “While I am hesitant to have dealings with that witch,” he said over his shoulder, “the choice is not mine to make.” He turned. “Griffin?”
“Let me get this straight.” Griffin held up his hand and began ticking off on his fingers. “A warrior goddess wants to take you from your master and turn you into some kind of Fey ninja. So, you guys are teaming up with a witch to create a potion so that Finn here can control fire. And you need the help of us angels in order to succeed.” He looked from Gideon to Finn and back again. “That’s crazy.”
Finn’s heart sank.
“And crazy is how we angels roll.” With a grin at his master, he reached up. He yanked a handful of strands from his head, then passed them across the table to Gideon, who folded them into a corner of his handkerchief. “Any chance I could come watch when Finn fires up for the first time? I might be able to help. Give him a few pointers.”
“Why are you doing this?” Finn blurted out. “Is it because I’m a halfer?”
“Well, sure. That’s what we do—serve and protect humans. Hey! I just thought of something.” He snapped his fingers. A flame sprang to life on the tips. “Oops.” He made a fist, extinguishing it, then continued. “Basil, shouldn’t we be helping guard the Steel family?”
“Gideon?” Basil looked at the Knight. “Would you like another layer of protection? Perhaps when the family is out and about in their day-to-day lives? We’re quite adept at that kind of covert surveillance, you know.”
“While I admit it hurts my pride,” Gideon said, “I accept. It would take some of the burden from Kel O’Shea and Mac Roth, as well.”
“Consider it done, then. I’ll inform Flight Command to change up our duty rotation to include the Steels. If you would be so kind as to not mention our existence to them, it would be greatly appreciated.”
“They know about us,” Finn pointed out. “And Iona and the goddess. How much harder would it be to believe in angels?”
“And Katie and her parents handled it just fine, in spite of what happened afterwards.” Griffin added his support to Finn. At the younger apprentice’s look of confusion, he explained. “Katie is… was…my girlfriend. She’s mortal. Lives across the street with her folks.”
“Was?” Finn asked.
“Yeah. It didn’t work out. But we’re still friends.” A trace of a smile. “Which is still a pretty cool thing.”
I know what you mean, Finn thought.
Eight
The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: Thursday, October 17
Angels. Witches. Goddesses and goblins. And Fey. All we need are vampires, zombies, and space aliens, and our lives could be a television show. And what’s this Burnt Bones thing? I asked Gideon, but he didn’t want to talk about it.
He’s worried. Which makes me worried. He tried not to show it, but he was really quiet during supper tonight. I wonder if he would really let the Scatah Scathah Scáthach take me? Would he be able to fight a goddess? He’s good, but, come on—she’s a goddess!
She could kill him.
I won’t let that happen.
The Journal of Gideon Lir: Thursday, October 17
Sleep eludes me. Why do I think this is a battle we cannot win?
What the goddess is demanding of Finn is almost impossible. Is that why she chose these trials? Knowing we will fail before we even begin?
With a sigh, Gideon closed his journal and started to toss it on his desk, then stopped himself in time and laid it down. He glanced up the stairs disappearing into the darkness. Firelight and the soft glow from his lamp were the only lights in the darkened house. Near to midnight, he thought, and the hours are slipping through my hands too fast. One day closer to the day. And this is only the first trial. Frustration tightened his muscles. Cursing Fate and a goddess—two enemies he couldn’t defeat—he rose from his desk, careful to keep the chair from squeaking. Not that anything short of a full-blown explosion would wake the boyo, he thought wryly, remembering all the times he’d had to drag Finn out of bed by the foot. The thought of his home being empty of a certain teen boy filled him with the old melancholy.
Unable to face that image, he clicked off the lamp and stepped over to the fireplace. After selecting a dagger, he walked to the front door, snagged his jacket from the hook, and slipped outside.
Cold air greeted him as he paused on the porch. Taking a deep breath, he opened himself to the night, stretching out his senses for any sign of Amandán. Nothing. He walked further into the yard and looked up. Stars vibrated against the blue-black of the sky, as if the earth was whirling too fast for them to come into focus.
A light flared from the front window of Kel O’Shea’s house next door. It threw an elongated square out onto the snow of her front yard, half-hidden by Gideon’s truck. A moment later, the sound of a door opening, then closing, echoed softly in the darkness.
“Kel O’Shea?”
“Gideon?” The female’s Knight’s disembodied voice drifted over the truck. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“A bit o’ yard work.”
“Funny man.” Footsteps crunched through the snow, then Kel O’Shea appeared from the far side of the vehicle carrying an empty cardboard box stuffed full of flattened o
nes. She dumped the load near the curb.
Bundled in a heavy jacket, she sauntered around to Gideon’s front gate and leaned against it. “Can’t sleep, huh? Worrying about Finn?”
“Aye. And what about you?” He joined her, speaking across the gate.
“I wanted to finish unpacking the last of those boxes so I can stop tripping over them.” She tucked her hands in her pockets. “Did you find those angels?”
“I did. They are willing to help us. And better still, they are going to help us guard the Steel family. Finn and I will meet with Iona on Sunday and try again.” Heedless of the bite of cold metal, he gripped the top of the wrought-iron gate. “Ye gods, I pray it works.”
Kel laid a hand on his. “It will work. And if it doesn’t, we’ll find another solution. Or we’ll find a way for Finn to stay with you.” Her hand tightened. “You’re not alone in this fight, Gideon Lir. Mac Roth and I, we’ve got your back, to borrow a phrase from my apprentice.” She grinned.
As a shield in battle. A weight seemed to fall from his shoulders. He smiled back, grateful for the warmth of the hand on his and the friendship that went with it.
“So.” Kel O’Shea straightened and stuffed her hands back into her pockets. “Since you and Finn have a few days free, want to do some more hunting? Tara is frothing at the mouth to win her torc. I think she wants to prove to Finn and Lochlan that girls can play in the big league with the boys. Plus, I want to send a message to that pack of Amandán not to mess with me or my apprentice or the Steels.”
“Right. Say, about midmorning? And just out of curiosity, how are you planning on delivering that message to those beasties?”
“Why, on the tips of my arrows, of course.” She grinned and headed back to her house.
Heart lighter, Gideon watched her until she disappeared with a wave, then he sauntered along the walkway, a faint smile on his face.
Standing in the dark living room, Finn peered through the curtains, watching as Gideon spoke to the other Knight. Unable to sleep, he had heard the soft snick of the front door closing and had crept downstairs to investigate.
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