Finn's Choice (6 page)

Kel
. Finn tried saying it in his head. It just felt too…
weird
. Like a nickname between friends. Why it wasn't the same as when he addressed Mac Roth as Mac Roth, he wasn't sure.

But his uncertainty must have shown on his face, because the female Knight added, “Or Kel O'Shea, if that feels less…
familiar
.”

“Yeah, I like that better,” Finn said, relieved.

“Right.” Mac Roth drained his mug and popped one more bit
of bread into his mouth as he rose. “Now that we've established the formalities, 'tis time we get to work. That lorry is not going to unload itself.”

For the next few hours, Finn and Lochlan marched back and forth from van to house to van again, hauling boxes, unpacking them as needed, then breaking down the empty ones flat and stacking them in the corner of the living room. To his surprise, Tara worked right beside them, surprisingly strong for her slight frame. Meanwhile, Mac Roth helped Kel O'Shea by moving furniture around to suit the Knight.

The sound of hammering echoed through the quiet of the neighborhood as Gideon molded sheets of bronze over the top of the stone wall encircling Mrs. Martinez's property. As the morning wore on, he moved to the doors and windows, adding strips of the metal. Finn recalled this past summer when he and his master had done the same thing to their house.

Since even a touch of bronze burns the beasties, if not destroys them
, Gideon had explained,
and they be poor climbers to boot, capping our wall with bronze, as well as encasing the window sills and doors with the metal, fortifies our home from attack
.

After their last trip to the van, Lochlan began folding up the moving pads while Finn picked up the one remaining item off the seat in the cab—a long, slender box secured with duct tape. Something inside shifted from side to side with a hollow clunking sound, and oddly, with a faint twang.
Wonder what this thing is
?

Walking toward the house with weary arms and tired feet and
grateful to be finished playing Sherpa, Finn noticed Kel O'Shea had stepped out onto the porch to inspect Gideon's handiwork. Their shoulders touched as she leaned over to examine one of the front windows. She said something in a low, teasing voice, then tilted her head and glanced up at Gideon, laughing.

Finn stumbled at the look on Gideon's face as he gazed down at the female Knight. Something hot and sharp slipped between his ribs. It took him a minute to recognize it as jealousy. Not the envy he had felt earlier about Lochlan and Savannah. This feeling was mixed with a sorrow. Like he had lost—or was going to lose—something priceless to him. Like he was going to lose his place at his master's side.

Or in his master's affection.

Confused, Finn missed the first tread. Catching his toe on the next step, he lurched forward, then fell, slamming his knees into the sharp edge of the treads. The box flew from his hands, hit the uppermost step, teetered for a moment, then tumbled end over end back down and crashed on the stone pathway.

“Son of a goat!” Eyes tearing up in agony, Finn pushed himself upright, not sure what was worse—looking like the world's biggest dork-skull or the pain in his knees. Face on fire, he limped down the stairs, aware of everyone staring at him. The throbbing ache made each footfall a nightmare.

“Finnegan MacCullen!” Gideon snapped as he hurried past and reached the box first. Gazing down, he shifted the box with his foot. A faint rattling sound. He glared at Finn. “Get yer head in the
game, ye idjit.”

“I didn't do it on purpose,” Finn mumbled. Aware of Lochlan watching from a few yards away, he could feel the blush traveling from his face to his ears. It flared up even worse when Tara appeared in the doorway, an empty box in one hand.

“What was that noise—No!” She ran down the stairs, shoving past Finn. “You have
got
to be kidding me!” Crouching down next to the container, her fingers tore at the tape, cursing under her breath the entire time. Ripping it open, she paused, then reached inside. With a low moan, she pulled out a fiddle, now in two pieces. Its neck was snapped off and dangled from the strings.

“Oh, Tara.” Kel O'Shea joined her, kneeling beside her. Tara cradled the two pieces. “We'll get it fixed. Or we'll get you a new one.”

“I promised Granddad that I'd take good care of it.”

“I know. But we'll figure something out.”

Tara nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Gathering the newspapers, she repacked the broken instrument, then picked it up and started for the house.

Finn stepped in front of her and held out his hand. “Tara, I'm sorry…”

“Get out of my way.” The blue ice in her eyes made Finn want to do just that. “Before I
knock
you out of my way.” She shoved past him without a word.

Finn watched as she disappeared inside. He sighed and massaged his knees.

Lochlan joined him. “She's probably going for her bow and arrows.”

Finn didn't see Tara again until lunch. Conscripted by his master to help attach bronze sheeting to the window frames, he kept glancing toward the front door as he worked to the clanging of hammer on metal. “When am I going to stop doing that?” he finally blurted out.

“You mean making an utter fool out of yourself in front of a young woman?” Gideon laid another bronze strip to the window sill, then nailed it in place with three sure strokes. “When I've figured out, I'll let you know.”

The door opened. Mac Roth stepped out. Kel O'Shea and Lochlan followed. “Kel and I will return the rental truck and pick up a bit o' lunch for this mob. We're taking Lochlan with us.”

Gideon nodded. “We should be finished by the time you've returned. And Tara?”

“She's unpacking in her bedroom.” Kel O'Shea started to say something, but then changed her mind. Instead, with a nod at Finn, she headed for the van and started the engine. Mac Roth and Lochlan hopped into their Jeep. With a honk and a wave, they followed the van around the corner and disappeared.

For the next hour, as he helped Gideon with the last few windows, Finn caught the muted sound of slamming doors from inside the house. Squatting down by his tool box, Gideon rummaged about for another carton of nails.

“You know, Finn, you might try apologizing again. Now that
she's had time to cool that temper of hers.”

“She won't listen.”

“Aye, she may not. But you will feel better for offering to make amends. That is all you can do when you wrong someone.”

“What if she won't accept my apology?”

“That will be her choice.” He gave Finn a nudge. “Go along now.”

“But what if she tries to shoot me in the butt?”

“Best keep your back to the wall, then.”

Dragging his feet, Finn opened the door and stepped inside. Smaller even than their small home, Finn decided it qualified as a wee cottage. He had only been in Mrs. Martinez's single-level house a few times to help with minor chores. Pausing, he looked around the living room. The furniture, basic but homey, had been re-arranged in a more casual setting.

At the far end of the living room, a wide archway framed a kitchen. A large round table took up most of it. Beyond, a door led to the back yard and the woods. Off to the left sat a fireplace made from the same stones as the wall outside. On the right, a hallway led to what Finn assumed were bedrooms. Thumping sounds drifted from that direction.

“Um…Tara?” he called.

The sounds stopped. “What?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Can I stop you?”

A tiny flame of anger flared in Finn. He stomped it out. Before
he could think of a really clever quip, she spoke again.

“Fine.” A long sigh. “Come on back.”

He walked down the hallway. Three doors led off of it, two on one side, and a bathroom on the other. He stopped at the closest room and peered around the doorway.

Tara sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a duffle bag of shirts and jeans. Shaking her bangs out of her eyes, she glared up at him. “Make it quick.”

Wishing he was anywhere but in that room, he squatted down across from her. Sitting back on his heels, he noticed a stack of underwear next to the shirts. Heat burst across his face and ears. He tried not to stare, but the more he tried, the more his eyes kept landing on them. Finally, he forced his gaze to stay locked on Tara's face.

“I'm really sorry I broke your fiddle.” He made a quick decision. “And I'll figure out a way to get it fixed.”
Once I figure out how to earn the money
.

“It won't sound the same.” She looked away. “It belongs to my grandfather.”

“Is he still…?”

She nodded. “He actually lives with us. Has ever since my little sister was a baby.”

Feeling lower than a slug, Finn tried to think of something to say. “You're lucky to know him.”

“Don't you know your grandparents?”

Finn shook his head. “My parents got killed on a hunt when I
was a little kid. I don't really have much in the way of family, except my aunt and uncle, who weren't exactly thrilled about getting stuck with me. And you've met my cousin, Ennis.”

“That jerk from the Festival? The one that got you in the whole mess with the
Scáthach
?”

“Gives you an idea how popular I was with them growing up.”

“Because of your mortal blood?”

“Yeah.”

Her expression softened. Just a bit. “Well, that's not your fault. And anyway, it's what makes you the Spear and all.”

I'd trade all that power to have Mom and Dad alive again
. Not wanting to wade back into that particular bog of sorrow, he changed the subject. “So. The fiddle. I, uh, I didn't know you played.”

“I don't really play.” Tara hesitated, then leaned over and reached under the bed. She fished out the broken instrument and laid the pieces across her lap. “It's more like torturing the thing. Kel was going to let me take lessons from Elaine MacDuff—that fiddler from the Festival? I want to get really good and surprise Grandpa next time I go home for a visit.”

“Elaine MacDuff? She's amazing. She was riffing on
The Minstrel Boy
.”

“As were you guys.” A brief smile flashed across her face. She studied him, her head tilted. “I don't know how you can stand in front of a crowd and sing like that. You two were rocking the barn.”

Finn shrugged. “I've only done it twice. And I had Gideon, so I could kind of fake it.”

“Knight Lir…I mean Gideon…has an amazing voice. Plus, he's really…you know.”

“He's what?”

A faint pink crept along Tara's cheek. She plucked at one of the fiddle's strings, coaxing a
plink
from it. “Um…good-looking.”

“I guess.” Finn shifted in place. His earlier reaction to Kel O'Shea sent another wave of confusion crashing over him. He sagged in gratitude when she decided it was her turn to change the subject.

“So, what's your favorite group?”

“You probably never heard of them,” Finn said. “I have two, but they're pretty unknown unless you're into Celtic music.”

Tara raised her eyebrows. “Really? Can't get much more Celtic than,” she pointed at herself, “Tuatha De Danaan.”

Finn laughed. After a moment, Tara joined in.

“Finn? Tara?” Gideon called from the living room. “The food has arrived.”

They stepped into the room just as Kel O'Shea and Lochlan, loaded down with plastic bags, walked through the front door. Mac Roth appeared a moment later with several large pizza boxes balanced in one giant hand. The aroma of spicy pepperoni and Parmesan cheese mingled with the scent of impending snow. As they gathered in the kitchen and began unpacking the food, the doorbell rang.

Kel O'Shea frowned. “Weird to have visitors when we've just moved in.”

“Probably Rafe and Savannah,” Finn said. “They said they were going to come by after lunch to help.” He headed for the front door and opened it.

“Move! This thing's burning me!” Rafe pushed past, carrying a steaming casserole dish wrapped in a hand towel. Juggling the dish, he rushed into the kitchen.

“Mom baked a welcome-to-the-neighborhood apple cobbler.” Savannah stepped inside and closed the door, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Looks like you don't need us after all.” She laid a hand on Finn's arm and leaned around him. “I didn't see a car in the driveway. Are
they
here?” she whispered.

Both the feel of her slender hand and the scent of whatever girls wear that always makes them smell like…well…girls made Finn's brain cease to function.

“Is who here?” he whispered back, hoping she'd keep her hand on his arm.

“
Them
. The Knight. And her apprentice.”

“Well, yeah.” He inhaled, getting another whiff of flowers. Or was it vanilla?

“Cool. I've been wanting to meet them.”

“Why?”

“To get fashion tips.” At Finn's look of confusion, she rolled her eyes. “To get some fighting advice, doofus.” Punching him lightly on the arm, she stepped around him and continued on to the kitchen. Finn followed as if on a leash.

The kitchen was packed. Rafe and Lochlan were standing in the
corner, heads close together and talking, glancing now and again at Tara, who was helping her master at the counter with the salad.

“Kel O'Shea, Tara.” Finn led Savannah over to them. “This is Savannah Steel.”

“Hello, Savannah. Nice to finally meet you.” Kel O'Shea smiled at her.

“Me too. I've been wanting to meet you both since Finn got back from the Festival.” She grinned at Tara, who grinned back.

Why do I feel outnumbered
? Finn thought.

“Please tell your mother thank you for the cobbler,” Kel O'Shea continued. “And I hope you and Rafe will join us—we've plenty. By the way, I've heard you're quite the shield maiden. And that you even bagged an Amandán this past summer.”