The Stag Lord (9 page)

Windows finished, Bann handed Cor a pair of leather work gloves. “Climb inside and sweep up the broken glass. Wear these so you don't cut your hands picking up the larger pieces.”

While Cor swept, using a whisk broom and dustpan they'd borrowed from Shay, Bann tackled the door. He hammered out the dents, then filled the holes with liquid silicone followed by duct tape.

As they worked, Bann noticed Max sitting just inside the garage, gazing out at the falling rain. Once in a while, he would patrol, making a loop around the outside of the house, each time coming back wetter and muddier than before. The region's red soil looked like dried blood on the dog's legs.

“Okay, all done.” Cor's voice called from inside the camper. “Can I open the door now?”

“No. I've decided to just leave you in there the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I'll toss in a few sandwiches now and again.” Bann squatted down next to his tool box. The clang of tools hitting the metal crate drowned out Cor's protests. He shut the lid, slid it to one side so it wouldn't trip anyone, then rose.

“What if I need to pee?”

“Use the window.”

“Daaad!” The boyish giggle was a balm to the father's soul.

“No? Well, all right, then. Come along.”

Pushing the door open, Cor jumped out and made a beeline for Max. The dog leaped up in greeting. Discovering a rope chew toy in the corner, boy and dog began a tug-of-war game. Bann chuckled when a violent jerk of the dog's head almost pulled Cor off his feet.

You could settle here in High Springs. Make a
new
life for yourselves
.

Bann blinked as Shay's earlier comment wafted through his head.
Where the hell did that come from
? An odd tingling tightened his scalp. Maybe it was seeing Cor playing with the dog. Or the steady drizzle, which reminded him of back East. Or not having to be on his guard every bleedin' second of every bleedin' day for the first time in a year.

Whatever it was, Bann felt as if a scab that had covered his entire body,
his entire soul
, had cracked, leaving him raw underneath.

At that moment, a late-model truck, tricked out with a duke's ransom in chrome, rumbled into the driveway and parked at the bottom of it. A man, about the same height as Bann but heavier and with a barrel-chested build, climbed out. He strolled toward them, heedless of the rain dampening his mane of red hair and beard. Bann vaguely recalled seeing him in one of Shay's photos.

“Good morning,” the man called. “A fine bit of weather we're having, eh?”

“It is.”

“Hugh Doyle,” declared the man, stepping out of the rain. “One of Shay's uncles.” He held out a hand. “She called me and asked if I would come by and help with your rig.”

“Bannerman Boru.” His eyes flicked to the man's neck as they shook.

“My torc is in the truck.” Hugh's voice carried the faint brogue of home. “Shay explained to me about the lad.”

“My thanks. Cor.” Bann whistled the boy over. “Son, this is Hugh Doyle, Shay's uncle. Hugh Doyle, my son, Cormac.”

“Hi.” The boy shook the older Knight's hand.

“A strong grip you have, Cor Boru.” Hugh smiled down at the boy, who grinned back. “And this one I already know.” He patted Max, who had come over to greet him with a frenzy of tail-wagging. “A veritable prince of dogs.” Max wagged harder, agreeing with the Knight.

“Go finish your game, you two.” Bann waved them away. He waited until they disappeared around the far side of the camper, then spoke quietly. “What else did she say about us?”

“Aye, she told me.” Wonder lit up his face. “The long-son of the Boru. Here in Colorado and after all these years.”

Bann shifted, uncomfortable. “Did she also explain how we came to be here? And that, because of me, she is in danger as well?”

“She did. Although she spoke lightly of the being-in-danger part. In the true Doyle fashion, don't you know.” He paused, then softened his tone. “My condolences for the loss of your wife. And for your son's loss, as well.”

“Thank you.”

The Knight glanced past Bann to the camper. “Shay also said you were determined to leave as soon as you can.”

“I am. I will not put others at risk. It's best Cor and I move on.”

Hugh reached up to finger a torc that wasn't there. “Are you so sure?”

“Sorry?”

“Are you so sure it's what is best for you and the boyo?” Before Bann could argue, Hugh raised a hand. “Do not paint all of our people by the same brush. While there are some in our clan, as well as other clans in High Springs, who will blame you for drawing that monster into our midst, you should know a number of us will aid you in this fight, Bannerman Boru.”

Bann's mouth opened and closed. “Why?” he finally blurted out.

Hugh blinked in surprise. “Why, because you are the long-son of our High King. But more than that, you and the lad are Tuatha Dé Danaan. And you need our aid.” He chuckled when Bann started to protest. “Oh, Shay was right about you. You're a stubborn one, to be sure.”

Feeling like the world was shifting under his feet, Bann took a step away. Behind him, the voice of his son laughing as he lost another round of tug-of-war to his new best friend rang through the garage. He turned and faced the older man.

“He will slaughter anyone who helps me.”

“Aye, he will try.”

“There is no way to destroy him.”

Hugh shrugged. “Any creature can be destroyed, given the right knowledge and the right weapon. We simply need to find both.”

Bann tried a different tactic. “I have little money, except for the monthly stipend distributed to all Tuatha Dé Danaan from our people's reserves.”

“As do most of us.” Hugh looked Bann up and down. “You seem hale enough to find honest labor.”

Bann dragged the back of his hand along his jaw. A chain that had been bound around his chest loosened. “Well, I cannot stay
here
. He is certain to attack, maybe even tonight.”

“Shay said you would say that. And she pointed out that by knowing where he might strike, we've a better chance at guarding against him and perhaps even killing him.”

“You would use her as bait?”

“Oh, aye.” Hugh beamed, pleased Bann had caught on so quickly. “Clever, eh?”

“Look, Hugh—”

“We'll have a fair number here all night.” Hugh snapped his fingers. “Which reminds me—I'm in charge of drinks. Shay's taking care of the food even now.”

“You make it sound like a party.”

“Aye, it should be a right proper hooley.” He clapped Bann on the shoulder. “I'll see you this evening, then.” With a grin and a nod, he hurried back down the driveway.

Mind reeling, Bann stood in the doorway, staring as Hugh drove away. Possible scenarios, some he hadn't allowed himself to even
dream
about for a year, flew back and forth inside his skull.

Surrender had never felt so good.

He glanced down when Cor walked over and joined him, leaning a shoulder against Bann's hip. Max took a seat at Cor's feet.

“What's going on, Dad?”

Bann looped an arm around his son. “I have something to tell you, Cormac Boru.”

8

W
ITH A BOTTLE OF
beer in each hand, Bann edged through the small but raucous crowd and joined Shay and a young man standing in the center of the living room. The firelight flickered on the gold torc encircling the young man's neck, as well on the ubiquitous red hair of the Doyle clan. Other men and women of various ages milled about the great room. Bann noticed they were all armed with every sort of blade, knives being a favorite. Some sported daggers, and a few even bore hatchets. All wore the torc.

Music poured from the stereo, vying with the buzz of conversation. Bann could feel the beat of the familiar tunes through the soles of his boots. “Here.” He handed one of the bottles to Shay, then held out his hand to the young man. “Bannerman Boru.”

“Like
you
need an introduction.” The young man grinned, clasping Bann's forearm in the traditional manner. “I'm Rory. One of Shay's cousins. Hey, I wanted to thank you.” Rory's red soul patch and Celtic rope tats encircling both wrists made him look like a college student…an undergrad majoring in microbrewing, no doubt.

“Thank me for what?”

“Why, for giving us Doyles a reason to get shit-faced while waiting on that Loki wannabe to show up and join the party.” He took another swig.

Shay rolled her eyes. “When do
you
need a reason to drink, Rory Doyle?”

“Just trying to keep up with my little cousin.” He clinked his bottle against hers.

Bann smiled at the exchange. Taking a drink and half-listening to their conversation, he scanned the room for a certain dark head.

Earlier, Cor had begged his father to let him stay up past his bedtime, pointing out, with an eight-year-old's logic, that he had to keep Max company. When Bann had mentioned that Max probably knew all of Shay's family already and would not lack for company, Cor had shifted tactics and claimed the party would keep him awake, even with the guest-room door closed.

“Please, Dad? Just one hour more?”

“Why would you wish to stand about listening to a group of adults whose conversation will mostly likely center around the weather?”

His son had then pulled out the nukes. “Because they're
Tuatha Dé Danaan
, Dad. Just like us.”

With that, Bann had capitulated. How could he have forgotten Cor's fervent longing to be with their people?
Which is how we came to be in this place on this evening
.

Shay tapped his elbow. “He's over on the floor by the fireplace. With his shadow.”

Bann craned his neck. His son lay sprawled on his back, his feet propped on the hearth. Max's head rested on Cor's stomach, eyes closed in bliss as the boy played with his ears. Bann saw that Cor was reading the book Shay had been looking at earlier.

“How did you know I was looking for him?”

Shay just grinned.

Something about her smile filled Bann with an odd warmth, heightened by a beer buzz. Not the heat in the belly that a smile and an ogle from an attractive woman would cause—although Shay would qualify as an attractive woman, qualify with room to spare—but rather like the quiet warmth of the heart that a grin from an old companion or fellow warrior would cause. He wasn't surprised when she punched him lightly on the shoulder.

He missed having a friend.

Excusing himself, Bann walked over and sank down on one end of the sofa and stretched out his legs. “Come here, lad.”

Closing the book, Cor eased out from under Max's head and scrambled to his feet. He stuck the volume back into the empty spot on the shelf and joined his father.

“What were you reading?”

“Just a story. It's kind of boring.”

“Ah.”

They sat in silence, both staring at the flames. Cor yawned, then slumped lower to rest his head against Bann's shoulder. One leg was thrown over his father's knee.
A year ago, he would have been curled on my lap by now. Of course, a year ago, he still had a mother and a home
.

“Quite the last two days, eh, lad?”

Cor nodded. “I'm glad we're staying.”

“As am I.”
For lots of reasons
.

“Are we going to sleep in the camper from now on?”

“Actually, you're going to stay with me.” Shay leaned over the back of the sofa on the other side of Cor. “At least for a few more days.”

“I thank you, but no,” Bann said. “Our camper is perfectly—”

“Your dad thinks it's a good idea.”

“I do not! If you recall, I told you earlier—”

“In fact, while you're here, you can me help take care of Max.”

“Really? Awesome!” Cor bumped fists with Shay. He grinned up at Bann. “Two against one. Again.”

“This isn't a bleedin' democracy.”

“All in favor of making this a bleedin' democracy,” Shay said. “Raise your hand.” Her and Cor's hands shot up. “Two to one in favor. We win.”

Hiding a smile, Bann glanced at his watch. “Fine. Now, as president, I declare it is bedtime for anyone under five feet—”

“
President
? I don't think so.” Shay interrupted him. “This is
my
house.
I
get to be the leader.” Cor nodded gleefully in agreement. His grin faded when she nudged his shoulder. “So. To bed, kiddo. And I'm saying that as your Healer, not as your leader.”

“B-But it's not time yet!” Sputtering, Cor turned to his father. “Dad, tell her I get to stay up for a while longer.”

“Sorry. I was voted out of office.”

“Off you go,” Shay said, not at all impressed by Cor's glower. “By the way, I want to put another dose of
sláinte
nettle on those scratches on your back as well as double-check your shoulder. Wait for me in the bathroom. Give me a holler when you're ready.”

“Mind Shay.” Bann prodded him. “I'll be along shortly.”

Cor stomped off and disappeared down the hall, complaining the entire way about the unfairness of grownups. Max sat up and looked at Shay, a question in his brown eyes.

“Go on.” Shay shook her head as the hound trotted after the boy. “I think I may have lost my dog.” She brightened when Cor called for her. “But I think I gained a new friend.” She left the room.

“
Two
friends,” Bann said to himself. He drained the bottle, added it to the growing pile of empties on the coffee table, then stood and made his way through the crowd in Shay's wake. Halfway across the room, Hugh greeted him in a booming voice.

“Bannerman Boru! Ready for something that'll put hair on your chest?” He held up a bottle of whiskey.