by Darby Kaye
Shay sauntered over and inspected the cached pile of logs. “This is where I’m supposed to say that I like a man who’s handy with his tools, but I’m not going to. Too cliché.”
Bann eyed her outfit as he finished organizing his box. “Were you planning on going for a run?” He started to tell her that it was too dangerous and that he didn’t want her running alone. Thinking back to yesterday’s skirmishes—not fights. Fights are what Elizabeth and I had. Shay and I just have lively disagreements—he worked on keeping his tone inquisitive.
“No.” To his relief, she shook her head, ponytail swinging side to side. “At least, not by myself. As much as I want to, I think it’s too much of a risk, what with Tullys and Cernunnos skulking about out there.” She waved a hand toward the park. “So I called Ann. She and I are going to run the foothills behind her neighborhood. Kind of near that section of trail where we went goblin hunting a few weeks ago, remember?”
Recalling that very hunt, Bann didn’t answer. Instead, he finished his task, then closed the lid on the toolbox with a click and stood. Every molecule in his heart wanted to say no. His head told him to keep his yap shut. He opened his mouth anyway.
“Shay, I don’t think—”
“Yeah, we’ve already established that. And this over-protective habit of yours, although it’s a sweet one, isn’t going to cut it.”
“It’s not only dangerous with what happened yesterday and this morning, but what about those Amandán roaming about?” he said, calling the goblins by their ancient name. “I believe you told me those beas-ties have been active.” She cannot argue with that.
Apparently, she could. “So what? We’re not going to live our lives cowering behind those.” She flicked her fingers at the fence. “Look, as you once said, we’re Tuatha Dé Danaan. We tell Fate ‘screw you’ or something like that.”
“Still, perhaps I should accompany you—”
Shay’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and tapped the screen. “Hi, Hugh. What’s up? Yeah, he’s standing right here. Let me put you on speaker.” Another tap, then she held the phone between them. “Okay, we’re both listening.”
Hugh’s disembodied voice rose from her hand. “Three more Tullys are missing. And you can imagine what Weston Tully is saying about it.”
Turning Shay and himself so that their backs were to Cor, Bann spoke in a low voice as he told Hugh what had happened this morning. “Tully might want to search the Garden,” he added. “Most likely, Cernunnos has slaughtered them, too.”
“Why is he killing just the Tully clan members?” Hugh mused.
Shay glanced over at the boy and pup at the other end of the yard, engaged in a chew-the-laces-on-Cor’s-shoes game, then held the phone closer to her mouth. “Maybe there’s enough of Max that is still in control and he’s protecting us the only way he knows how?”
“Perhaps,” Hugh said. “But then, why did the beast test your wards earlier? Even so, Tully will use these latest attacks as yet another justification to start a war.”
“Like he needs one,” Shay said. “Well, I’ll see you in a little bit. Ann and I are going for a run.”
“Shay, we haven’t yet—” Bann began.
“I told Ann I’d rather she not—” Hugh said at the same time.
“Oops.” Shay thumbed the screen and cancelled the call with a grin. “My bad.”
Driving along, Bann glanced over at Shay sitting in the truck’s passenger seat. Still dressed in her workout clothes, she was slathering lotion on her face and neck. The aroma of SPF 45 sunscreen filled the cab. “Shay, darlin’…”
“Don’t even go there.” She dropped the bottle into the cup holder. “You’re just using this as an excuse to be nearby. Just in case.”
“But I had promised Hugh to help haul away those burnt timbers,” he said, turning into the clan leaders’ driveway. He halted by the gatepost and powered down his window, then reached out and punched in the code in a series of beeps that always reminded him of a science fiction movie from the 1970s. “I am merely keeping my word.”
“So, it’s only coincidence that you and Hugh decided to do it now.”
“Simply that.”
“Yeah, right.”
They rolled along the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires; in the back seat, Cor was already snapping the leash onto Sam’s harness. As they pulled over to one side of the parking area, Shay spoke over her shoulder. “Cor, keep a close eye on Sam. Make sure he doesn’t pee in the house, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Unbuckling his own belt, Cor clambered down, then lifted the puppy out and set him on the ground. “C’mon, Sammy!”
Boy and pup raced each other to the house, Shay following. Meanwhile, Bann checked to make sure the iron blade was secure in its sheath on his hip, then unloaded his toolbox from the bed of the truck with a grunt. Grabbing an ax he had borrowed from Shay, he headed toward the porch as the front door swung open.
Armed and dressed similarly to Shay, but with a more subdued dark blue running jacket, Ann stepped out onto the porch. “My two favorite boys,” she said with a pat on the head for both Cor and Sam. “Go back to the kitchen.” She stepped aside as they pushed past, then quirked an eyebrow at Bann. “You’re as bad as Hugh.”
“Worse,” Shay said before Bann could speak.
They walked through to the kitchen and continued out the back door. Hugh was already sifting through the pile of charred lumber while Cor showed Sam around the yard. Bann saw that the older Knight had his toolbox nearby as well. He walked over and joined him.
“Bann,” Hugh said, by way of greeting.
“Hugh.” Keeping his back toward Shay, Bann set the metal box on the ground. “All ready?” he muttered.
“Aye.” Bann turned to watch the women chatting together as they stretched for a few minutes. Limber, they are. Then, with twin nods of farewell, they headed toward the gate.
Ann opened it and waved Shay through. “We’ll be back in about forty-five minutes, Hugh, my love. We’re taking the trail that loops up to the top of the ridge. ’Bye.” She pulled the gate closed behind her, the latch rattling as it dropped into place.
Bann waited until the sound of their voices, punctuated with the snap-crunch of dried vegetation, faded away, then called Cor. “Son, come here and bring Sam with you.”
“Why?” Even as he asked, the boy came trotting over, his puppy at his heels.
“Because you are going to wait in the house until James gets here.” Bann opened his toolbox and withdrew a second blade, this one of bronze. Meanwhile, Hugh was pulling a hatchet out from under one of the burnt boards; the older Knight was already armed, as was his custom, with his favorite hunting knife.
“Which should be any minute,” Hugh added, then grinned at the sound of James’s voice calling from the house.
A moment later, a young man appeared at the back door, his hair a darker red than most of the Doyle clan. “They’re going to be so pissed if they find out you guys are following them.” He sauntered over to them.
“Good to see you again, Jameson Doyle.” Bann could never remember if James was Shay’s first or second cousin. He clasped the younger Knight’s forearm, recalling Shay mentioning that James was not only the best-looking of her cousins, but one of the brightest, to boot. And a damn fine warrior. “Thank you for this.” He nodded toward Cor.
“No worries. Cor, what do you say to helping me knock back some chocolate milkshakes while we watch the game?” He grinned at the whoop of joy, then stepped to one side as the boy raced past him to the house. Sam paused to sniff at the stranger’s shoe before trailing his friend inside. “Good luck,” James added meaningfully, then followed.
We’re going to need it, Bann thought, jogging after Hugh, who was already hurrying toward the gate. The Goddess help us both if our women find out what we are doing.
9
“HEY, ANN?” SHAY CALLED to the woman a few yards ahead of her on the narrow trail. “I though
t I heard something.” Panting after the series of steep switchbacks they had just tackled, she stopped and looked back, blinking the stinging sweat from her eyes.
Below them, the hillside was a quilt of scrub oak. The low-growing shrubs were still partially covered in autumn-weary leaves the same color as the women’s blades. The tedious gray and rust was broken here and there by the dark green of pine or spruce determined to hold its own. She pushed a strand of hair from her face as she listened, trying to hear over her pulse thundering in her ears.
A crunch of gravel. Ann appeared at her shoulder, also breathing hard, her hair damp and clinging to her neck. “Goblins, maybe?” She checked the sky above them. “No crows, though. Not that you can depend on those tricksters to warn us every time, but still.”
Shay cocked her head, frowning, as she listened. A shout, muted by distance and the thick forest, was followed by a thin shriek. “That sounded like—”
“There!” Ann pointed eastward down at the woods below them. Fifty yards away, from the side of the foothill, an outcropping of pink granite jutted above the surrounding scrub oak like the conning tower of a submarine breaking the surface of a storm-gray sea. Crows circled above it. Their bodies and wings formed black St. Andrew’s crosses against the blue sky. “Looks like someone’s run into a pack of Amandán.”
“I can guess who those someones are, too.” Grinning, Shay reached down and freed the bronze knife strapped to her leg. “This is going to be fun. I mean, as long as they don’t get killed before we get there.”
Ann pulled out her own weapon, a dirk as graceful and deadly as herself. “Don’t worry, they won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I told Hugh years ago he’s not allowed to die without my permission.”
Both laughing, they turned and sprinted back down the trail.
“A right ugly mob, eh, Hugh?” Bann shouted over the snarling goblins, each creature an appalling mix of not quite ape and not quite man, covered in a mossy pelt. The pack circled him and the other Knight, trapping them against a rocky outcropping. His right side creaked and burned with every breath, the ribs victims of a well-timed—or in Bann’s case, an ill-timed—jackhammer of a blow from one of the beasts.
“Aye,” Hugh said. “Repulsive as the day is long.”
The older Knight’s red hair and beard were dusted with the powdery remains of the pair of goblins he had knifed when they had first burst out of the woods in a screeching horde twice the size of the group they had battled a few weeks ago. Both Knights had fought with every bit of skill and training just to stay alive. Mounds of greenish-gray ash lay scattered around the small clearing, whiffs of powder drifting from the tops of the piles like miniature volcanoes. Bann’s eyes watered at the stench—like sour vomit—from both the living goblins and the remains of those destroyed.
Grateful for the massive boulder at his back, Bann took a moment to dry sweaty hands on his jeans. That same beast that had attacked him stood swaying from side to side a few feet away. At Bann’s words, it bared its yellow teeth. Bann bared his right back.
“Is this the same pack we hunted last month, Hugh?”
“I believe so.”
“They seem a bit more aggressive this time.”
“They do, don’t they?”
And more numerous, Bann thought. Still, better they attack us than Shay and Ann. He watched with dismay as more goblins appeared, running ape-like with an off-center gait and using their arms as much as their legs. Shoving each other with delight over having trapped the Knights, the Amandán hooted and grunted as they gestured with their black-tipped fingers. Bann knew, as did every Tuatha Dé Danaan, that one touch of those fingers could deliver the killing poc sídhe, the fairy stroke.
Thankful he had packed his large bronze hunting knife—bronze being the only metal that destroys an Amandán by reducing it to a powdery ash—for its longer reach, he began chanting in a low voice, hoping the Song’s words would help ease the pain so he could concentrate on keeping himself and Hugh alive. “‘I am the vigor of man. I am the god who fires your mind.’” Warmth flooded his body, easing the pain. Somewhat.
“We seem to be drawing a crowd,” Hugh said cheerfully. Bann saw that the older Knight had not only lost his hatchet, but was favoring his left leg. He had wrenched his knee during the mad scramble to get to the safety of the outcropping.
“Aye, we have. No doubt they’ve come to admire our fighting skill.”
“Then we best give them a demonstration. Tho’, to be sure, it needs only one of us.” Hugh wagged his weapon at the mob, which hissed and spat, but kept a blade’s length away. “I’ll stay and frolic with the beasties. You hurry along to tea now and—”
“Are you daft, man?” Bann joked back. His gut tightened at the sight of even more Amandán galloping up. He ignored it. “Why, Ann would murder me on the spot with my own blade if I returned home without you.”
“Fearful of my wife, eh?”
“That I am.”
“As you both should be.” A voice spoke from overhead.
Bleedin’ hell. Bann looked up at his worst nightmare.
Shay and Ann stood on top of the granite slab almost a dozen feet above them. Even from that distance, he could see their twin smirks. Shay waved her weapon at him in greeting; the sun glinted off the blade, flashing like the cameras of a rabble of paparazzi.
For a moment, he wished the goblins would end him. Here and now. Better than being teased for however long it will take for Shay to get it out of her system. Around him, the goblins eased back, the hindmost row checking for a possible attack. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few slink away and disappear into the underbrush, the branches snapping from their passage. But not enough to make it an even fight.
“Oh, look,” Ann called down, apparently aware of the defecting Amandán. “Your little friends are feeling shy, gentlemen.”
“More likely intimidated by us, Ann,” Shay pointed out.
“Ah, good point.”
Bann and Hugh exchanged glances. At that moment, a trio of bolder goblins surged forward. Jerking his head back out of harm’s way, Bann whipped his blade up and around just in time to block the nearest creature’s scrabbling fingers. In a moist snick, the digits flew off over the heads of the next row of assailants. The Amandán managed a single shriek before it exploded into a cloud of ashy remains. Bann dropped to one knee, and the second goblin’s paw whistled past his head, ruffling his hair. With a shout, he stabbed upward. The impact of bronze puncturing flesh and muscle and bone sent a zing through his arm into his shoulder as he buried the weapon in the beast’s chest. He ripped it free, then threw himself to one side to avoid both the next wave of attackers and a face full of goblin remains. Even as he scrambled to his feet, Hugh was finishing off the third goblin, cursing the creature’s mother’s lineage the entire time in Gaelic. The rest of the pack milled about, the back row urging the front row to attack, while the front row snapped back a goblin’s version of go screw yourself.
“Need some help?” Shay called.
“Not a bit.” Chest heaving, Bann spat to one side, mouth burning from the vile taste. “You stay safe up there.”
“Are you sure?” Ann asked. “Hugh, my love—you seem to be limping.”
“Simply a strategy to lull these beasties into a false—” He shouted in frustration when another goblin lunged at him. A thrust. A shriek. Another cloud of stink.
Guarding Hugh’s off-arm, Bann took a moment to glance up. The outcropping was empty. Damn them to seven hells! He wasn’t sure if he was more angry that they had left the safety of the rock, or that they were coming to rescue him and Hugh. “We’ve a problem.” He nudged the other Knight and pointed upward.
“You would think,” Hugh growled, “that they would allow us the dignity of our manhood to perish in battle.”
“You would think.” Bann said through gritted teeth as he slashed at another goblin. He missed when it jerked clear. “Damn.”
>
At that moment, the goblins all stiffened. Heads swiveling, they scanned the surrounding woods, ears pricked and noses sniffing. Their mossy fur bristled, giving them a puffy appearance. The Knights laughed.
“They look like frightened cats.” Bann gestured with his weapon.
“Or giant Chia pets come to life,” Hugh responded. “Perhaps they would like a trim. A bit off the—”
“Faugh a ballagh!”
The ancient battle cry of the Celts, the one adopted centuries later by Irish soldiers, echoed through the woods. In spite of everything, Bann’s chest swelled with pride at the sound. Aye. “Clear the Way.” For the wrath of the daughters of the war goddess Danu is about to descend on your arses, ye manky beasties.
Spooked, the Amandán whirled around. Side by side, Bann and Hugh stabbed the backs of the nearest beasts, ripped their blades free, and stabbed again. The air grew thick with goblin ash. Almost blinded and choking, Bann stabbed and thrust and slashed at the green wall of fur. He lost sight of Hugh, although he could hear the other Knight shouting.
The goblins began melting away. Blinking through burning eyes, Bann peered past the remaining ones. He spotted Shay fighting the largest Amandán he had ever seen; it was a head or more taller than Bann himself. She looked like a child in comparison as she danced around it, her movements light and airy and almost playful, and always just out of reach of paws the size of catcher’s mitts. Her blade flickered like a snake’s tongue as she kissed the beast’s fur with it over and over. Howls of pain and frustration filled the air, along with the reek of burnt hair. Why, she’s not even trying to land a blow.
“Shay! Stop mucking about and stab the bleedin’ thing!” Without waiting for her to do that very thing, he lowered a shoulder and charged. Hitting the beast was like hitting the side of a draft horse. Fey and goblin bounced off each other. Staggering back a step, Bann recovered his balance, then charged again, knife raised for the killing stroke. With a speed that belied its size, the beast darted to one side, then turned and bolted. Most of the pack followed, the smaller goblins taking two strides for every one of the giant’s.
