Finn's Choice

by Darby Karchut

  Finn padded to the front of the house in his socks, strongly aware of the smell of smoke lingering about his clothes. He opened the door.

  “Hey.” Tara stood there, playing with the end of her braid. “Kel sent me over to see if you guys want to come eat supper with us—we just got back from the store and she’s all excited to cook in our new kitchen. You can say no if you want,” she added, clearly hoping he would. Then, before Finn could answer, she leaned forward and sniffed. “You smell like the inside of a fireplace.”

  “I know. I’ve been practicing.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. Kel said that those angels were going to help you. So, did you…flame on?”

  “I got some to shoot out of the ends of my fingers.” And if that didn’t sound totally weird, I don’t know what does.

  “Was it hard to do?”

  “No, it just felt like when you…” Before he said the word pee, he stopped himself. “When you blow your nose.”

  “Did it burn you?”

  “No, not at all.” He hesitated, then added. “But it freaked me out the first time I did it.” Wondering why he’d admitted that to her, he waited for the ridicule. Instead she simply nodded.

  “I would freak out, too, if my hand was on fire,” she said with a faint grin.

  Finn had never noticed that her nose wrinkled slightly when she smiled.

  Changing the subject, she glanced past him, then whispered, “They like each other. Kel and your master.”

  “I know,” Finn whispered back.

  “And?”

  “And, what?”

  “And, what are we going to do about it?”

  Finn shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “You don’t think it’s kind of…?” Tara waved her hand aimlessly in the air.

  I don’t know what I think. “I guess.”

  They both jumped when Gideon appeared behind Finn. “Tara Butler. What brings you to our door, miss?”

  “Kel wanted to know if you two would like to have supper with us. You can say no if you want,” she repeated.

  “No,” Finn said.

  “We’d be delighted,” Gideon said at the same time.

  Tara sighed. “Okay, I’ll let her know. In about an hour?” She jogged down the stairs.

  Finn waited until his master headed back to the kitchen, and then leaned out to watch her until she disappeared behind Gideon’s truck.

  Ten

  The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: Sunday, October 20

  Four days to go. She’s coming back on Thursday. I have GOT to pass the trial!

  The Journal of Gideon Lir: Sunday, October 20

  Finn’s level of anxiety is matched by mine. But, for this evening, I was able to lay aside the burden and enjoy the company of an old friend.

  In spite of everything, a new joy.

  “I need more of that potion,” Finn said over breakfast the next morning. “Do you think Iona can give us enough so that I can practice, as well as be ready for Thursday?” The thought of the Scáthach made his stomach rebel; he forced another spoonful of his oatmeal down, hoping it wouldn’t come back up later.

  “I’ll ring her shortly.” Gideon sat with his hands cradled around his mug, a crease between his black brows. Finn noticed his breakfast was only half-finished. His master cleared his throat.

  “Finn?”

  “Yes, sir?” He waited a few minutes. “Gideon?”

  “There is another way. We could flee…”

  “No! You’re not giving up your Knighthood. And I’m not giving up on the chance to be a Knight. Uh-uh, no way. Not going to happen.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Gideon studied him, the line between his brows smoothing away. “Certain, you are, that you will pass this first trial, eh?”

  “No. I think it’s going to be an epic fail. But, I’m not giving up without a fight. Heck, you taught me that.” He’s taught me a lot of things.

  “Well stood, MacCullen.” He pushed away from the table. “We best fetch more of the brew, then.”

  “Nope, sorry.” Standing near her fire pit, Iona shook her head, her curls bouncing like in a shampoo commercial.

  “And why not?” Gideon asked.

  “Well, for one thing, I don’t have any brewed right now. Plus, he needs to drink it smoking fresh for it to be effective. And, like I told you before, it only lasts a few hours. When’s the Scáthach due to arrive?”

  “On Thursday, but we don’t know when, that’s the problem.” Finn shifted from foot to foot. “Couldn’t you just hang out nearby that day?”

  “Hang. Out.” Iona looked at him like he had asked her, in Urdu, to shave her head bald. “Like, what? Hide in the trees behind your house and hope the Goddess of Narrow-Mindedness doesn’t spot me? Have a fire going to keep the potion warm until you need it? Then, somehow, sneak a bottle of the stuff over the wall without anyone noticing? Maybe tie the bottle to a squirrel’s tail and have the creature bring it to you?”

  “Can you do that?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “The problem is getting the potion to Finn in a timely manner, yes?” Gideon stroked his chin. “And in a way that keeps all this hidden from the Scáthach. In case she decides your assistance crosses the line, as they say.”

  “What are you thinking, Lir? As I mentioned earlier, she’s got a nasty vendetta against me, so your idea better be a good one.”

  “Griffin.”

  The sorceress blinked. “You mean the legendary half-lion, half-eagle mythical creature?”

  Finn gasped. “Do you think he’d help us?”

  “Who?” Iona asked.

  “Aye, I believe he might,” Gideon said. “He did indicate he wanted to do so. And he could certainly move swiftly enough from Iona’s to our house.”

  “Hey. Remember me?” The sorceress snapped her fingers. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Angels. Or really, one angel. Griffin,” Finn said. “He’s Basil’s apprentice.”

  Iona held up her hands. “Uh-uh. No way. I don’t do angels.”

  “All you would need to do is have the potion ready,” Gideon said. “You can arrange to meet Griffin on the edge of your property. He’ll fly the bottle to us, and your involvement will be finished.”

  “And what’s the Scáthach going to say when an angel shows up and hands a steaming bottle of what is clearly a magical brew to Finn here?”

  That’s what I’m wondering, Finn thought.

  “Our problem to solve.” When Iona hesitated, lips pressed in a thin line, Gideon added, “You owe us for those angel hairs, I might point out.”

  Iona made a face. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I want to meet with him beforehand. Even though he’s just a Tiro—”

  “What’s a Tiro?” Finn asked.

  “It is their ancient title for apprentice,” Gideon said. “Unlike the celestial angels, who have nine choirs or levels, the Terrae Angeli have only four: Sage, Guardian, Mentor—that is what Basil is—and Tiro, or apprentice.”

  “Enough with the history lesson.” Iona said. “Now, as I was saying, even though this Griffin is just an apprentice, I want you two nearby, just in case, when we go over the logistics. Wednesday. High noon.”

  “Why, do you think he is going to try something after offering to help Finn?” Gideon asked.

  “You never know with angels. Avenging is their middle name.”

  Two days later, Finn and Gideon waited in their truck at the edge of Iona’s drive. The sun, freed from clouds for the last two days, had melted all the snow, except for a patch or two in the deepest pockets of shade. Through the windshield, Finn could see the triquetra gleaming, as if it were freshly oiled. The building beyond sat brooding, resentful of the bright day.

  He looked around the area and sighed. “What time is it?” he asked Gideon for the fourth occasion.

  The Knight unrolled his window and stuck his head out and looked up. “Just noon now.”

  “How do you do tha
t? Tell time by the sun and stars and stuff?”

  “’Tis quite simple. You take into account the tilt of the earth on its axis in conjunction with its orbit around the sun and—”

  “Look!” Finn pointed out his window.

  Off to one side, a solitary pine tree suddenly whipped forward, then back, as if being hit with a gust of wind. Needles showered down, glittering from residual moisture. The tree shuddered, then stilled.

  Griffin stepped out from behind it. Raking his hair back with both hands, he smoothed it into place with a practiced move, then tugged his T-shirt straight as he glanced around. Spotting their truck on the edge of the parking area, he lifted his chin in greeting and jogged over.

  “Wow. Cool truck,” he said as they climbed out.

  “I hate it. It’s a piece of junk,” Finn said before Gideon could speak.

  “Really?” Griffin eyed it in admiration. “I kind of like the whole vintage look.”

  “Vintage?” Gideon’s left eyebrow shot up.

  Griffin nodded. His smile faded at Gideon’s expression. “I mean vintage in a totally good way.” He cleared his throat. “Um, I think I’ll shut up now.”

  With that, the angel walked over to the symbol. Finn and Gideon followed. Stopping a few feet from it, the angel stood staring at the triquetra, his hands held in front of him, palms forward. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

  “Can you feel it? Like needles poking?” Griffin asked them with a look of distaste. He licked his lips. “By the Light, I can almost taste it, too, like…like…vinegar. Sour, you know?” Cocking his head, he studied the ward, then knelt down on one knee. “Let’s see what we got here.” He began sweeping the gravel aside.

  “What’s he doing?” Finn whispered.

  “I have no idea,” Gideon said.

  Taking a deep breath, Griffin made a fist and cocked his arm back, like he was going to punch something. And, then, he did. With a grunt, he slammed his fist into the patch of cleaned earth. CRRAACCK! The ground split apart, a miniature earthquake. The leading edge shot forward straight toward the triquetra. The earth ripping apart sounded like a rusty hinge. The widening crack hit the outer ring of the ward and stopped. For a moment, the only sound was the hiss-whisper of gravel tumbling into the split.

  “Well, that didn’t go so well.” Blowing on his knuckles, Griffin rose to his feet. He dropped his hand when the door to the house opened.

  Iona stepped out. Dressed simply in jeans and a white shirt under a leather jacket the same shade of brown as her hair, she sauntered over until she stood in the center of her ward where the three lobes met. She glanced down at the crevasse with a smirk.

  “So. You’re the angel.”

  “I’m Griffin.”

  “Kind of young to be on the opposite side against someone as powerful as the Scáthach.”

  “That’s what they said about David.”

  “Touché.” She cocked her head. “And Basil is okay with his apprentice helping a Fey? Even if the kid is part human?”

  “Especially because Finn is half-human. By the way, I hear that the Scáthach has threatened to turn you mortal. Is that true?”

  “Death would be preferable to becoming human.” Iona shuddered. “Well, almost.”

  Griffin lifted a shoulder. “Oh, it’s not as bad as you think.”

  The statement struck Finn as odd. Before he could ask, Gideon nudged his elbow, then shook his head.

  “Well,” Griffin continued, “you realize that if you do become mortal, then, by our ancient law, we Terrae Angeli will be the ones guarding you. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “In the worst way.” She curled her lip. “Enough of the horror movie scenarios. Let’s get down to business.”

  After half an hour of planning for the next day, the sorceress gave a terse nod and disappeared inside. As soon as the door closed, Finn glanced sideways at his master. “Do you think this will work?”

  “All we can do is try.” Gideon held out a hand to Griffin. “And I thank you again for what you are doing for Finn.”

  Griffin shook it. “Don’t thank me until we get through tomorrow.” With a grim smile, he backed away a few steps. A blast of wind, and he was gone.

  Finn, with Gideon beside him, watched as the tree tops waved a farewell in the wake of the angel’s passage. I wish I could fly.

  “Fortunate, we are, to have him and Basil on our side of this battle.” Gideon led the way to their truck.

  “And helping us guard the Steels, as well.’ Finn said, “Speaking of which, can I go over there this afternoon? I wanted to say goodbye before they leave for the airport.” In case…well, just in case.

  “Aye. To be sure.”

  The rest of the afternoon dragged as Finn waited for the twins to get home. Meanwhile, Gideon worked in the kitchen, sharpening a collection of throwing knives for Kel O’Shea, who had mentioned over supper that she wanted to start training Tara in the art, and did Gideon have any extras.

  Boredom drew Finn into the kitchen. “Want me to do that?” He leaned a hip against the counter to watch.

  “Offering to help with chores?” Gideon paused, the whetstone in one hand, and ran his thumb along the edge of the bronze blade. “Who are you, and what have you done with my apprentice?”

  “Funny.” For a few minutes, the only sound was the sweesh-sweesh of the whetstone kissing the blade as the Knight stroked death and destruction into the weapon.

  Finn thought back to the first time he had met Gideon. He scared the peat moss out of me. But that was before I got to know him better. He recalled when his master had told him about his dead wife and son. Gideon’s sadness while he told the story had made Finn’s own loss of mother and father easier to bear, and in a subtle way, had made him feel closer to his master. Closer than I do with my aunt and uncle and cousins.

  A thick melancholy pulled at him, like mud on the sole of his boot, weighing him down. The feeling intensified as he said his goodbyes to Rafe and Savannah later on.

  Sitting on Rafe’s bed, he watched as his friend loaded up his backpack with a couple of textbooks and a binder crammed with papers. A small suitcase was open on the floor, half-filled with clothes waiting to be folded and packed. Meanwhile, Savannah sat at Rafe’s desk, uploading songs onto her iPod.

  “Rafe?” Rufus Steel stuck his head in the door. “Bring your swim trunks and—oh, hello, Finn.”

  “Hi, Mr. Steel.”

  The man stepped into the room and took a seat next to Finn. He bumped Finn’s shoulder with his own. “You doing okay, son?”

  In spite of the dread that was a permanent roommate in his gut, Finn nodded. “I’m good.”

  Rufus Steel draped an arm over his shoulder. “You kick some serious butt tomorrow and pass that trial. You hear me?”

  Finn laughed. “Yes, sir, I will.”

  To his surprise, the man gave him a rough hug, then stood up. “Son? We’re leaving for the airport in one hour. And Finn? I’ll see you next week.” He left.

  “Dang, but you’re lucky.” Finn flopped back on the bed.

  “We know.” Savannah exchanged a look with her brother, who nodded.

  Rafe opened a dresser drawer. Rummaging about, he pulled out a pair of swim trunks and tossed them in the suitcase. “So are you, Finn. I mean, Gideon is old-school cool. And he’s almost like a… you know.”

  “Yeah.” He rolled off the bed. “I better go. Let you guys finish packing.”

  Rafe locked gazes with Finn. “Like Dad said. Kick it.” They bumped fists, holding the contact for a minute. “Faugh a ballagh.”

  Savannah hugged him. “Good luck,” she whispered in his ear, then gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

  As he walked home in the fading light, he thought about the day he had met Rafe and Savannah that summer, and how quickly the three of them had become friends—my first real friends. Later that summer, they had fought side by side with him against both goblin and sorceress. The memories filled him with both a warmth and an odd
sense of loss. As if he was saying good-bye to them for good.

  He paused, one hand on the wrought-iron gate. His eyes drifted down to the bronze wire he had twined around the gate to protect himself and Gideon from Amandán attacks. As he stood there, the faint aroma of the sláinte nettle wafted through the air.

  Then, the realization cut him like a freshly-honed blade, razor sharp and oh, so painful; the understanding that their lives’ paths were going to split one day. For now, their paths were one and it was magical and it was powerful. However, he knew in his heart that the day would come when they would reach a fork. He and Lochlan and Tara would go one way, and the twins would go another.

  Maybe not yet. But soon.

  Eleven

  Finn woke with a jerk. He glanced over at the clock, surprised he had slept until almost seven. I wonder why Gideon didn’t wake me… Oh. Yeah. This is it. This is the day. He sat up and looked out the window. Clouds hung low, wrapping the neighborhood in a dismal fog and shrouding the top of the western foothills. He wondered if it would be the last time he looked at that view. She wouldn’t take me the instant I failed, would she?

  Finn threw on some clothes. Walking downstairs, he heard the clink and rattle of Gideon preparing tea, a noise so familiar he could almost see, in his mind’s eye, his master’s movements by the sounds alone.

  “Morning,” Finn said to his master’s back. “You let me sleep in.”

  “Aye,” Gideon said over his shoulder as he stood at the sink filling the kettle with water. “Tea?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Just like he had done just about every morning since his apprenticeship began, Finn headed to the front door and slipped outside to fetch the morning paper. He carefully avoided looking across the street at the Steels’ house.

  Trying to act like it was just a typical morning, the two of them prepared breakfast, both working in a comfortable silence. While Finn manned the toaster, Gideon prepared scrambled eggs and bacon. Ten minutes later, they were seated at the table.