Finn's Choice (11 page)

Gideon snorted. “A longish shot? More like an impossible one, I'd say.”

“Still.” Mac Roth shrugged. “I'll see what I can find out. Just in case.”

As the Jeep drove away, snow swirling behind it, Finn followed his master back home. “What was that all about?”

“Just a wild hair of Mac Roth's.” To Finn's surprise, his master tossed him the keys. “Warm the truck up. And, Finn?”

“I know, I know.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Make sure the parking brake is set.”

As Gideon disappeared inside their home, Finn clambered into the cab and coaxed on the vehicle. He revved the engine a few times, wishing Rafe and Savannah could see him in the driver's seat.

Gideon emerged a few minutes later, a piece of paper in hand. Finn scooted over, careful not to knock the stick shift with his feet, which seemed to grow larger every day.

“Where are we going?” He thought he could guess, even without Mac Roth's earlier statement.

Looking over his shoulder, Gideon backed out of the driveway. “We've a pair of angels to seek.”

“Here we go.” Twenty minutes later, Gideon turned into a residential neighborhood a few blocks from downtown. The street was lined with well cared-for bungalows and small houses. Most were decked out for the harvest season with an exuberance of wreaths and cheerful scarecrows and pumpkins. Driveways and sidewalks were already shoveled free of snow.

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.”