Finn's Choice (15 page)

“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.

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.

Finn almost gagged as he forced down a few forkfuls. He noticed that the Knight was crumbling bacon between his fingers, but not eating it, as he took sip after sip of tea. “Looks like it's going to snow later.” Finn nodded toward the kitchen window as he poked holes in his scrambled eggs.

“Aye. One more thing to worry about; the weather and such.”

They both pushed food around their plates for a few more minutes. Finally, Gideon gave up. Rising, he gestured toward the platter of mostly uneaten bacon sitting in the middle of the table. “Help yourself to the rest. You need your strength.”

Finn choked down one slice, then gave up as well. In silence, they cleaned the kitchen. While Finn washed, Gideon dried and put away. Finn realized that the top of his head was now level with his master's shoulder.
I wonder when that happened
.

Gideon noticed, too, for he smiled briefly. “You may have inherited your father's height.”

Which father
? The thought came unbidden. It was followed by a sudden flare of anger.
Why do I have to lose Gideon, too? It's supposed to be an honor to train with the Scáthach. But it's not. Not to me. To me, it's
a sentence
.

Hands still buried in the soapy water, Finn clenched his fists. “It's not fair,” he said in a low tone. “I don't want to go.”

“And ye will not, boyo. I promise ye.”

They both tensed when a low rumble filled the air, the glass in the window rattling. Without a word, Gideon dried his hands, then passed the dishcloth to Finn.

As they opened the back door, a cloud, like a piece of the pending storm that had broken free, floated into the yard and touched down on the grass. A gust shredded the cloud and revealed the
Scáthach
standing to one side of the practice dummy. The burlap bag swung gently to and fro, as if shaking its head at the goddess.

With panic turning his muscles into something akin to mashed potatoes, Finn took a knee next to his master on the cold earth and waited, his eyes fixed on a tuft of dried grass. His skin broke out into goosebumps from the chilly air.

Son of a goat—it's too early! Iona probably doesn't have the brew ready. And we can't get a message to Griffin!
What little breakfast he had eaten turned into a lump and stuck to the sides of his stomach, like oatmeal when it's been microwaved too long.
Ye gods, if I ever needed a guardian angel, this is the time
!

Finally, movement. Grass crunched under soft boots. “Rise.”

At her command, they stood up. “Greetings, Lady,” Gideon said.

“Knight.” She nodded curtly, then turned to study Finn, her eyes beautiful as emeralds—and as cold. “Finnegan MacCullen. Stand ye ready.”

Another breeze, oddly warm and sweet like a breath of summer, blew through the back yard and stirred the remnants of the goddess' cloud. It ruffled Finn's hair. Beside him, Gideon stiffened. An exclamation died on his lips. Before Finn could ask, his master spoke.

“And thus it begins? With no more formality than that?”

The goddess curled her lip. “Formality is for the pretty ones. Danu and the others.”

“May I offer you refreshment first? I could send the boy for tea…”

“Nay. Although I thank ye for yer hospitality. Now, move aside, Black Hand.” She eased back a few paces and pointed at the burlap bag. “Burn it.”

Finn licked his lips.
What am I supposed to do
? He shivered, both from certainty of failure and the cold.

“Allow the boyo to fetch his jacket, at the least. 'Tis a bitter morn.” Gideon tried again. Finn suddenly realized his master was trying to get him back inside.
Why? Does he want me to contact the angels?

“'Twould be less so if he would light a flame,” the
Scáthach
said dryly. She hesitated. “Never let it be said that I am a cruel mistress. Go. Fetch yer cloak. No, Black Hand,” she added when Gideon started to go with Finn. “Stay.”

“Why? Do ye not trust me?”

“I do not.” She smiled coldly at him, then waved Finn away. “Speedily now.”

Walking to the back door as slowly as he could, Finn chewed on
his lip, trying to remember where his master had placed the piece of paper with Basil's phone number. He slipped inside and hurried into the living room toward Gideon's desk.