Gideon's Spear (6 page)

“No.”

“—the basics so that they could defend themselves.”

“No.”

“It would only be for a few weeks, then they'd be able to—”

“I said, no.”

“You're not even listening to me.” Finn's voice rose in frustration.

“No,
you're
not listening to
me
!” Gideon snapped, just as frustrated. A muscle danced in his jaw. “Continue arguing, and you'll find yourself spending the day in your room.”

Embarrassment at being slapped down in front of his friends made Finn's cheeks burn. “You just don't want me hanging out with them because they're mortal.” Chin jutting out, he squared up to his master and locked gazes.

“Oh, so now you're putting words in my mouth?” Gideon fired back.

Brother and sister froze in surprise at both their tones and the abrupt flare-up of tempers. Tugging on her brother's arm, Savannah inched toward the side gate. “Maybe we better leave,” she said.

“Let go—I want to watch.” Rafe shook free. “I think this is that warp spasm thing Finn told us about.”

“Boys are sick.” Savannah grabbed his arm again and yanked. “Come on, Rafe!” He followed reluctantly. “See you tonight, Finn.” Both Tuatha De Danaan, locked in a silent battle of wills, ignored the twins as they disappeared.

“You don't even care if they get killed or not,” Finn spat. A corner of his brain screamed at him to shut up. He ignored it.

“Best rein in that temper, Finnegan MacCullen. I'll not have my apprentice speak that way to me when…”

“Gee, I'm surprised you didn't take their knives away and throw the twins over the fence to the Amandán.”

Gideon's eyes narrowed. “A tempting idea. But it wouldn't be them I'd be pitching over the wall.”

Finn sneered a challenge. “Right. Like you would.”

Bad mistake.

Gideon lunged for him. With a squawk, Finn darted to one side and bolted for the sanctuary of the house, the Knight on his heels. He jerked to a halt when Gideon snagged him by the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, no, you don't.” Reeling him backward, he grabbed Finn by the arm and pulled him around until they stood face to face. “Now here it is, a grand, fine summer morning, and the two of us are already butting heads like a pair of billy goats. Why is that?”

A dozen reasons pinged around the inside of Finn's head.
Because one minute you're on my case to be this perfect warrior. Then the next minute you treat me like I'm a baby. You won't help Rafe and Savannah. And then there's the whole “hey, surprise, you're a mythical weapon of legend” thing
. He tightened his lips and said nothing, his face sullen.
He won't understand
.

Gideon's own face suddenly softened. “Been a bit of a rough spell, eh? What with the discovery of you being the Spear and all.”

Finn gawked in surprise at the sympathy in his master's voice. He nodded and looked away. “Yes, sir. I guess.”

“Aye, for me, too,” Gideon said, almost to himself. He glanced around the yard, his gaze taking in the training apparatuses and the woods beyond.

“I know, I know.” Finn sighed. “Target practice, then get my chores done.”

Gideon's mouth twitched at the note of self-pity. “First I want to have a look at your hands. In fact, I should have done so earlier. Come along.” He led the way into the house.

Inside, Finn took a seat at the table that was still covered with breakfast dishes. Pushing a plate to one side, he waited as Gideon fetched some clean cloths and a large bowl of
sláinte
nettle potion. Finn wrinkled his nose as its pungent scent fought with the leftover smell of buttered toast. Not a good combination.

Using the tip of his hunting knife, the Knight loosened the knots on the bandages and unwrapped one hand, then the other. Master and apprentice leaned over to peer more closely.

“They've healed enough to not need wrappings any longer,” Gideon said with a grunt of satisfaction. “But I want you to soak them twice a day for the rest of the week to minimize the scars.” He nodded toward the basin. “Do that now, then clean the kitchen. Meet me out front when you're finished. And make sure you're armed.”

“Yes, sir.” Finn stuck his hands into the cool liquid. He winced at the stinging, then relaxed as it faded. “What about target practice?”

Gideon rose, carrying a few dishes to the sink before heading to the living room. “We're going hunting instead. That Amandán was too bold for my liking—coming that close to our house and in broad daylight with humans around. It may be they are not only losing their dread of us, but of mortals, as well.”

“What are we going to do?”

Pausing in the doorway, the Knight looked back over his shoulder. He smiled coldly. “Remind them why they should fear the Tuatha De Danaan.”

Eight

T
he truck was already idling in the driveway when Finn locked the front door and jogged down the steps and across the yard. Careful to shut the gate, he tightened one of the bronze wires before hurrying over.

“All set,” he said, clambering into the passenger seat. As Finn pulled the door closed, it creaked, then bounced open again. Grabbing the handle, he yanked it again. It flew open. “Son of a goat,” he muttered. He leaned out and grasped the handle with both hands.

“Ye gods, Finn. Put some muscle into it.”

“I'm trying, but the stupid thing won't latch.” He slammed it with a rattle. It sprang open again. “We need a new truck.”

“Boyo, the list of things we need would strain a year of our monthly budgets.” Putting the truck into neutral, Gideon climbed out and walked around to Finn's side. With a grunt, he rammed the door with his shoulder, then eyed it as if daring it to open again. Shuddering from the impact, the truck gave a sigh and began rolling backward down the driveway.

“The brakes,” Gideon shouted, making a dash for the driver's side.

Finn scrambled across the seat. Toe pointed, he stretched for the nearest pedal. The engine revved futilely when he stomped on the gas.

Picking up speed, the truck shot tail-first across the street and bounced up against the curb on the far side with a crashing jolt, just missing the Steels' mailbox. Finn's bottom left the seat. His head hit the roof. Tears sprang to his eyes when the impact snapped his jaw shut. With a moan, the engine died.

Cursing under his breath in Gaelic, Gideon jogged over. He peered through the open window. “Are you all right?”

“Ah beh meh ‘ongue.” Eyes watering, Finn pointed to his mouth.

The Knight grimaced in sympathy. He yanked the door open and motioned the boy out. After climbing down, Finn spat a glob of bloody mucus to one side and shook his head. “Son of a goat—that hurts.” He wiped his lips, leaving a reddish smear.

“Goodness, what happened?” said a female voice.

Master and apprentice turned. Dressed in a white lab coat, Dr. Susanna Steel stood at the end of her driveway, purse and keys in hand. Her dark eyes widened at the sight of Finn's red-stained chin and their truck parked halfway up on the sidewalk.

“Susanna Steel.” Gideon dipped his head, an old-fashioned courtesy. “It's a pleasure to see you this fine morning, madam.” He gestured toward the vehicle. “The brake slipped, nothing more.”

Mrs. Steel frowned, her high cheekbones and ebony skin giving her a regal air. Her heels clicked rhythmically as she walked closer to inspect Finn's bloody face. “How did you get hurt?”

“Oh, I bit my tongue when the truck hit the curb. I hit the gas instead of the brakes. But it's okay now.” He spat again. “See? Barely any blood,” he said, pointing down at the wet spot.

Gideon cringed. “Finnegan MacCullen. We do not spit in front of ladies.”

“Oh, that's quite all right. I
am
a doctor, after all.” Susanna Steel's brows puckered. “So, why were
you
driving the truck?” A look of skepticism crossed her face as Gideon explained. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” she said slowly. Glancing at her watch, she clicked her tongue. “Late already. Finn, we'll see you at supper tonight, then.” With a nod, she hurried back up the driveway to the open garage door.

They watched as she drove away, Finn waving cheerfully. After her Volvo station wagon turned the corner, they sighed in relief. Exchanging glances, they climbed back in. This time, Gideon closed Finn's door before starting the engine.

“So how are we going to hunt with the truck?” Finn asked. He held on tight as they bucked and rolled off the sidewalk, then headed out of their neighborhood.

“We're not. We're taking one of the forest roads up into the foothills and parking it there. It'll put us closer to the pack's cave—I want to intercept that lone beastie before it goes to ground.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Gideon pulled onto the shoulder of a dirt road, cut high into the mountainside. He angled the truck tightly against the embankment, and the engine shuddered to a stop. “Come out on my side,” he said, eyeing Finn's less-than-functional door. He stepped out and waited for Finn to climb down after him. They walked across the dusty road.

Looking east, they took a moment to enjoy the view. The
tick-tick
of the cooling engine echoed in the quiet of the summer morning; the July sun was already hot. On the plains below, the city of High Springs stretched out under a sky as blue as Tuatha De Danaan eyes. The downtown buildings, including a few skyscrapers, crowned the center of the city. Beyond the sprawling metropolitan area, the grasslands disappeared into a distant haze. At their feet, a trail snaked downhill into the woods.

“If you gaze far enough, you might catch a glimpse of the border of Kansas from here,” Gideon explained. “Or you could, if you were on the top of the Peak. We ought to climb it this summer as a training exercise.”

Finn groaned silently at the thought of keeping up with his master. He glanced sideways, then straightened, trying to see if his head reached the top of Gideon's shoulder.
Nope, not yet
.

He sighed.
I wonder if I'll be tall like my dad
. The old sadness swept through him. Reaching into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the moonstone, then pushed the gloom away before it could take hold. Shoving the stone deeper into his pocket, he shook his head clear and knelt down. He pulled up his pant leg and tightened the straps of the ankle sheath holding his knife. The other weapon was tucked in his belt behind him. “How are we going to find that Amandán?” he asked, rising to his feet.

“They tend to follow the same route to and from their hole. If we head downhill from here, we should be able to catch it.”

“Do you think there are more packs around?”

“Possibly. Mac Roth thought he saw signs of others the night Asher was killed.” He studied Finn's face at the mention of the dead apprentice. “Let it go, Finn lad,” he said softly. “It was not your fault. I've told you so before.”

“I know.” His cheeks warmed with embarrassment when Gideon ruffled his hair in a rare display of affection.

“Aye, your head knows, but your heart does not. ‘Twill pass with time. Now, for the hunt.” He slipped the knife out from under the tail of his denim shirt and raised it to the sky. “‘Cry “havoc,” and let slip the dogs of war.'” he quoted, heavy on the drama. “So to speak.”

“Let slip
what
?”

“
The dogs of war
. It's a metaphor.”

“But we don't have any dogs.” Finn's face brightened. “Are we getting one?”

“No. It was simply an expression of…”

“Awesome! He could help us hunt.”

“No dogs. I can scarcely afford to keep
you
fed and…”

“He can sleep in my room. Heck, he can sleep in my
bed
!”

“We are not getting a bleedin' dog.” Gideon spoke through gritted teeth.

“But, you just said—” Finn's jaw snapped shut when the Knight gave him a look. Or, as Finn privately called it, The Look. Deciding that he really didn't need to finish the sentence after all, he slid the knife out of his belt and nodded his readiness. He followed Gideon off the roadside and down the path, plunging eastward into the woods.

Almost immediately, the temperature dropped to a welcome coolness. As they hiked through the forest, Finn glanced around, trying to watch the shadows on either side of the narrow trail.
No wonder the Amandán like Colorado so much. Their fur is almost the exact color of these pine trees. Or is it
fur
trees?
He had opened his mouth to ask when a rustle in a nearby bush whipped his head around. He froze.

Ahead of him, Gideon slammed to a halt. A fist snapped shoulder high in a wordless signal. When the Knight held up one finger, Finn eased back a step. Two fingers. Two steps. Then Gideon made a rotating gesture.

Spinning on his toes, Finn took a position back-to-back with his master. Knees slightly bent, he held his weapon at waist height as he waited for the all-clear. Or attack. A faint rhythmic thumping echoed from the road above them when a vehicle passed by, the bass on its radio cranked to maximum. The music faded as it drove on. Finn fought the urge to glance toward the cloud of dust it had kicked up.
Stay focused when you're in the woods
, said Gideon's voice inside his head. Finn tightened his grip on his weapon; his eyes swept the area around him, never lingering too long in any one spot.
Remember, a distracted apprentice is a dead apprentice
.

After a long minute, Gideon relaxed. He glanced over his shoulder and gave a grunt of approval. “
Gle mhaith
,” he said and continued along the trail.

“Hey, Gideon? Don't crows show up to warn us if any Amandán are around?” Finn asked as he trotted along, trying to keep up with his master's brisk pace.