Unholy Blue (12 page)

Bann smiled in the mirror, his heart easing. “And Sam, as well.”

With their breaths smelling like bratwursts purchased from the hot dog stand outside the hardware store, they had returned home, a load of lumber jutting out from the bed and a red warning flag waving at the traffic behind them. Before starting the firewood rack, Bann had taken the time to Sam-proof the fence. Then, following lunch—because the hot dogs were just a snack, really—they moved the pile, log by log, to its new home.

Now, surveying the cord—
ranked and well stowed
—Bann tucked the gloves into his back pocket. He pulled up the tail of his flannel shirt, damp with sweat, as much
from the bright sun as from exertion, and wiped his face. Next to him, Cor mimicked his moves, right down to the face swipe. A corner of Bann's mouth twitched. “Well done, son. It went a lot faster with your help,” he lied. He tried not to think about the number of crooked nails he had removed from the structure after Cor's enthusiastic, but poorly aimed, hammer blows.

“Can I play with Sam now?”

Bann waved him away. As he stowed his tools, each one hitting the metal toolbox with a
clang
, Cor ran toward the house and disappeared. A few minutes later, he and the puppy burst back out. Sam made a beeline for the first patch of dirt and dried grass and squatted down while Cor waited impatiently.

“Tell him he's a good boy and give him a treat for peeing when and where he's supposed to.” Shay appeared, dressed in exercise clothes that included running tights, a neon green lightweight fleece over a T-shirt, and running shoes. On her right leg, she also carried her favorite knife, slender but lethal, in a black sheath fastened around her thigh. She walked over to Cor and passed him a handful of doggy goodies. “That way, he learns to associate the act with praise.”

“Does it really work?” Cor asked, offering one to Sam. “Ouch!” He shook his fingers, then scowled at the puppy munching unconcerned. “Bad dog! No bite!” Sam wagged his tail.

“It did when we were toilet training you.” Bann bent to one knee as he sorted nails into the correct compartments. “One raisin for every successful aim and squirt.” He grinned to himself when Cor huffed in embarrassment,
then began a tug of war with Sam using one of the work gloves.

Shay sauntered over and inspected the cached pile of logs. “This is where I'm supposed to say that I like a man who's handy with his tools, but I'm not going to. Too cliché.”

Bann eyed her outfit as he finished organizing his box. “Were you planning on going for a run?” He started to tell her that it was too dangerous and that he didn't want her running alone. Thinking back to yesterday's skirmishes—
not fights. Fights are what Elizabeth and I had. Shay and I just have lively disagreements
—he worked on keeping his tone inquisitive.

“No.” To his relief, she shook her head, ponytail swinging side to side. “At least, not by myself. As much as I want to, I think it's too much of a risk, what with Tullys and Cernunnos skulking about out there.” She waved a hand toward the park. “So I called Ann. She and I are going to run the foothills behind her neighborhood. Kind of near that section of trail where we went goblin hunting a few weeks ago, remember?”

Recalling that very hunt, Bann didn't answer. Instead, he finished his task, then closed the lid on the toolbox with a
click
and stood. Every molecule in his heart wanted to say no. His head told him to keep his yap shut. He opened his mouth anyway.

“Shay, I don't think—”

“Yeah, we've already established
that
. And this over-protective habit of yours, although it's a sweet one, isn't going to cut it.”

“It's not only dangerous with what happened yesterday and this morning, but what about those
Amandán
roaming about?” he said, calling the goblins by their ancient name. “I believe you told me those beas-ties have been active.”
She cannot argue with that
.

Apparently, she could. “So what? We're not going to live our lives cowering behind
those
.” She flicked her fingers at the fence. “Look, as you once said, we're Tuatha Dé Danaan. We tell Fate ‘screw you' or something like that.”

“Still, perhaps I should accompany you—”

Shay's cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and tapped the screen. “Hi, Hugh. What's up? Yeah, he's standing right here. Let me put you on speaker.” Another tap, then she held the phone between them. “Okay, we're both listening.”

Hugh's disembodied voice rose from her hand. “Three more Tullys are missing. And you can imagine what Weston Tully is saying about it.”

Turning Shay and himself so that their backs were to Cor, Bann spoke in a low voice as he told Hugh what had happened this morning. “Tully might want to search the Garden,” he added. “Most likely, Cernunnos has slaughtered them, too.”

“Why is he killing just the Tully clan members?” Hugh mused.

Shay glanced over at the boy and pup at the other end of the yard, engaged in a chew-the-laces-on-Cor's-shoes game, then held the phone closer to her mouth. “Maybe there's enough of Max that is still in control and he's protecting us the only way he knows how?”

“Perhaps,” Hugh said. “But then, why did the beast test your wards earlier? Even so, Tully will use these latest attacks as yet another justification to start a war.”

“Like he needs one,” Shay said. “Well, I'll see you in a little bit. Ann and I are going for a run.”

“Shay, we haven't yet—” Bann began.

“I told Ann I'd rather she not—” Hugh said at the same time.

“Oops.” Shay thumbed the screen and cancelled the call with a grin. “My bad.”

Driving along, Bann glanced over at Shay sitting in the truck's passenger seat. Still dressed in her workout clothes, she was slathering lotion on her face and neck. The aroma of SPF 45 sunscreen filled the cab. “Shay, darlin'…”

“Don't even go there.” She dropped the bottle into the cup holder. “You're just using this as an excuse to be nearby. Just in case.”

“But I
had
promised Hugh to help haul away those burnt timbers,” he said, turning into the clan leaders' driveway. He halted by the gatepost and powered down his window, then reached out and punched in the code in a series of beeps that always reminded him of a science fiction movie from the 1970s. “I am merely keeping my word.”

“So, it's only coincidence that you and Hugh decided to do it
now
.”

“Simply that.”

“Yeah, right.”

They rolled along the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires; in the back seat, Cor was already snapping the leash onto Sam's harness. As they pulled over to
one side of the parking area, Shay spoke over her shoulder. “Cor, keep a close eye on Sam. Make sure he doesn't pee in the house, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Unbuckling his own belt, Cor clambered down, then lifted the puppy out and set him on the ground. “C'mon, Sammy!”

Boy and pup raced each other to the house, Shay following. Meanwhile, Bann checked to make sure the iron blade was secure in its sheath on his hip, then unloaded his toolbox from the bed of the truck with a grunt. Grabbing an ax he had borrowed from Shay, he headed toward the porch as the front door swung open.

Armed and dressed similarly to Shay, but with a more subdued dark blue running jacket, Ann stepped out onto the porch. “My two favorite boys,” she said with a pat on the head for both Cor and Sam. “Go back to the kitchen.” She stepped aside as they pushed past, then quirked an eyebrow at Bann. “You're as bad as Hugh.”

“Worse,” Shay said before Bann could speak.

They walked through to the kitchen and continued out the back door. Hugh was already sifting through the pile of charred lumber while Cor showed Sam around the yard. Bann saw that the older Knight had his toolbox nearby as well. He walked over and joined him.

“Bann,” Hugh said, by way of greeting.

“Hugh.” Keeping his back toward Shay, Bann set the metal box on the ground. “All ready?” he muttered.

“Aye.” Bann turned to watch the women chatting together as they stretched for a few minutes.
Limber, they are
. Then, with twin nods of farewell, they headed toward the gate.

Ann opened it and waved Shay through. “We'll be back in about forty-five minutes, Hugh, my love. We're taking the trail that loops up to the top of the ridge. 'Bye.” She pulled the gate closed behind her, the latch rattling as it dropped into place.

Bann waited until the sound of their voices, punctuated with the snap-crunch of dried vegetation, faded away, then called Cor. “Son, come here and bring Sam with you.”

“Why?” Even as he asked, the boy came trotting over, his puppy at his heels.

“Because you are going to wait in the house until James gets here.” Bann opened his toolbox and withdrew a second blade, this one of bronze. Meanwhile, Hugh was pulling a hatchet out from under one of the burnt boards; the older Knight was already armed, as was his custom, with his favorite hunting knife.

“Which should be any minute,” Hugh added, then grinned at the sound of James's voice calling from the house.

A moment later, a young man appeared at the back door, his hair a darker red than most of the Doyle clan. “They're going to be so pissed if they find out you guys are following them.” He sauntered over to them.

“Good to see you again, Jameson Doyle.” Bann could never remember if James was Shay's first or second cousin. He clasped the younger Knight's forearm, recalling Shay mentioning that James was not only the best-looking of her cousins, but one of the brightest, to boot.
And a damn fine warrior
. “Thank you for this.” He nodded toward Cor.

“No worries. Cor, what do you say to helping me knock back some chocolate milkshakes while we watch the game?” He grinned at the whoop of joy, then stepped to one side as the boy raced past him to the house. Sam paused to sniff at the stranger's shoe before trailing his friend inside. “Good luck,” James added meaningfully, then followed.

We're going to need it
, Bann thought, jogging after Hugh, who was already hurrying toward the gate.
The Goddess help us both if our women find out what we are doing
.

“H
EY
, A
NN
?” S
HAY CALLED
to the woman a few yards ahead of her on the narrow trail. “I thought I heard something.” Panting after the series of steep switchbacks they had just tackled, she stopped and looked back, blinking the stinging sweat from her eyes.

Below them, the hillside was a quilt of scrub oak. The low-growing shrubs were still partially covered in autumn-weary leaves the same color as the women's blades. The tedious gray and rust was broken here and there by the dark green of pine or spruce determined to hold its own. She pushed a strand of hair from her face as she listened, trying to hear over her pulse thundering in her ears.

A crunch of gravel. Ann appeared at her shoulder, also breathing hard, her hair damp and clinging to her neck. “Goblins, maybe?” She checked the sky above them. “No crows, though. Not that you can depend on those tricksters to warn us
every
time, but still.”

Shay cocked her head, frowning, as she listened. A shout, muted by distance and the thick forest, was followed by a thin shriek. “That sounded like—”

“There!” Ann pointed eastward down at the woods below them. Fifty yards away, from the side of the foothill,
an outcropping of pink granite jutted above the surrounding scrub oak like the conning tower of a submarine breaking the surface of a storm-gray sea. Crows circled above it. Their bodies and wings formed black St. Andrew's crosses against the blue sky. “Looks like someone's run into a pack of
Amandán
.”

“I can guess who those
someones
are, too.” Grinning, Shay reached down and freed the bronze knife strapped to her leg. “This is going to be fun. I mean, as long as they don't get killed before we get there.”

Ann pulled out her own weapon, a dirk as graceful and deadly as herself. “Don't worry, they won't.”

“How do you know?”

“I told Hugh years ago he's not allowed to die without my permission.”

Both laughing, they turned and sprinted back down the trail.