Finn Finnegan (22 page)

After five attempts, Finn gave up. Knives lay scattered on the ground below the target, except for the one he'd managed to stick into the house.

“Maybe ye need a larger target?” Gideon suggested.

May be you need to shut up
, Finn thought. He trudged over and picked up the weapons. Gideon joined him, studying the wood siding.

“Hmm. We've quite a collection of holes.” He poked a finger into the largest one. “I may need to move the target to a less vulnerable location. But, in the meantime, we'd best replace this board.” He took the blades from Finn. “Go get the rest of the knives and put them away. Then, we'll take a drive to the lumber yard for some siding.”

Finn made a face. “Do I
have
to go?”

Gideon ignored him. “I want ye in the truck in five minutes. And make sure ye're armed.”

Whatever
, Finn thought as Gideon went inside.
Like it matters anymore
.

Sitting on the trunk's open tailgate, Finn stared into the distance, lost in thought. The lumber yard's loading bay was deserted in the noontime heat. Grasshoppers danced about with loud
brrr-cheeps
in the empty, weed-covered lot bordering the yard.

I should have gotten up right away
, he thought.
After Asher threw his knife. I could have gotten to him in time, if I had been on my feet
. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the video in his head. It played over and over, showing Asher's face when the beast grabbed him.

A dull clank made him open his eyes. As he watched, a worker in a hardhat crawled out from beneath the flight of metal steps leading to the warehouse's back door. Frowning, Finn watched for a moment, then shrugged. With a sigh, he slumped forward again, his elbows resting on his knees as he bowed his head.

Asher's scream echoed in his mind.

He slapped his hands over his ears, humming tunelessly as he tried to block out the memory. A shadow flickered on the edge of his vision. Hands still cupped on either side of his head, he looked behind him.

A crow perched on the wall of the truck bed, its beak open in a silent caw as it bobbed its head. Finn dropped his arms. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened at an odd sound. He turned back.

The workman stood a few feet away, his face blank as he stared at Finn. Then he smiled, his teeth large and square and yellow

Scrambling to his feet, Finn backed toward the cab. His fingers clawed at his pant leg as he went for a knife.

His leg was bare.

“Oooh, crap,” Finn breathed. He backed up further. In desperation, he crawled up on the roof of the cab, stomach knotting with fear. His eyes widened as the man clambered onto the tailgate. As Finn watched, the man's features began twisting and stretching. A stench, like week-old roadkill, filled the air. With a final wet pop, the creature finished transforming.

“Where's yer little friends—too scared to come play, eh?” it snarled. “
Bah
, we'll hunt them down, soon enough. Give them a taste of what happens to humans who joins up with ye De Danaan.” The Amandán stalked toward him. The truck rocked from side to side with the creature's rolling gait. Finn was prepared to jump as it stretched out black-tipped fingers, as if inviting the boy into its arms.

“Heads up, ye manky beast!” roared a voice.

The goblin whirled around.

Gideon swung the short length of wooden siding like a Louisville Slugger. With a hollow thud, he hit the Amandán on the side of the head. It tumbled out, over the side of the truck bed.

“Get in!” Gideon tossed the board into the truck and dashed for the cab.

Finn slid down the windshield and rolled off the hood. Yanking open the door, he jumped inside as Gideon gunned the engine and hit the gas. The truck fish-tailed as it roared around the corner of the warehouse.

The Knight slowed when he reached the parking lot. He glanced in the rearview mirror while he wove his way between parked cars. Turning out of the lot and onto the main road, he headed home.

“Are ye all right?”

Finn nodded and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He tucked his shaking hands under his legs, so Gideon wouldn't notice. They drove in silence for a few minutes. Finn kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, dreading what was coming next.
Maybe he didn't notice I was unarmed
.

No such luck. Irish or otherwise.

“And just where was yer weapon?”

Finn swallowed. “I forgot it.”

“Sorry, what did ye say?”

“I said, ‘I forgot it',” Finn repeated, louder. He tensed his shoulders.

Gideon slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Ye forgot it? Finnegan MacCullen, we are in the middle of a bleedin' war!”

“I know, but…”

“The Amandán are everywhere. In the largest numbers we've ever seen!”

“I know, but…”

“Asher perished not three days ago, and ye forget yer bleedin' weapon?!”

Anger and guilt flared up inside of him. “Yeah, I forgot it, okay? I screwed up,” he yelled back. “Just like I screwed up with Asher!”

At that moment, Gideon braked for a red light. With a curse, Finn threw the door open and jumped out. Dashing for the sidewalk, he took off, running. As his master shouted for him to stop, he pelted down a side street, tears blurring his vision.

Forty-five minutes later, Finn walked up the path to Rafe's front door. Swallowing through a dry mouth, he pushed his damp hair off his forehead, hesitated, then pressed the doorbell. As he waited, he glanced over a shoulder at his own empty driveway.
Gideon's probably still driving around looking for me. Good. Gives him something to do besides yell at me all the time
.

The door opened.

“Hey, Rafe.”

“Hi,” Rafe replied, his expression guarded. For a moment, neither of them spoke as they stared at each other.

Finn looked away first. “Um…do you still want to do something?”

“Nah, I'm kind of busy.” He shut the door before Finn could say anything else.

Staring at the closed door, Finn nodded.
Well, I guess I deserved that
, he thought. He turned and made his way across the lawn. Reaching the sidewalk, he grimaced at a familiar rumble, growing louder.
I might as well get this over with
. He steeled himself.

Gideon drove around the corner. His truck slowed as he pulled up even with the boy. Sticking his head out the window, he leaned on his elbow and nailed Finn with an icy gaze. “
Never
run off again. Or else. Do ye understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get yer arse home. Now.”

The Knight pulled into their driveway and parked while Finn jogged across the street. He followed his master through the front gate and inside.

“Now, just what was all that about? About Asher?” Gideon asked as they made their way to the kitchen.

“Nothing.” Finn went to the sink and filled a glass; he gulped down half the water, stalling for time. Wiping his mouth on a sleeve, he leaned back against the counter. “Can we have lunch now?”

“Not until ye tell me what's going on in that head of yers.”

“Nothing's going on.”

Gideon crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finn broke.

Again.

“I just…I just…I can't stop thinking about it,” he whispered through stiff lips, staring at the floor. “About what I did wrong. He died because of me.” He blinked and looked away.

With a sigh, Gideon walked over to the boy. He hooked an arm around his neck and pulled Finn close to his side.

“Now, ye listen to me, boyo. Asher was killed by the enemy. Not by anything ye did or failed to do.” He leaned closer, his head almost touching Finn's. “Nor by any thoughts ye had about him.”

Finn sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of a hand. Swallowing a lump, he asked the toes of his shoes. “Really?”

“Truly.”

Finding himself leaning against his master, part of him cringed.
He's going to think I'm such a wimp
. But he couldn't make himself pull away. They stood like that for a few minutes until Finn's stomach growled. They both chuckled.

“I best feed ye lunch before I'm accused of child abuse.” Gideon let go and aimed a playful cuff at his apprentice. He smiled when Finn dodged out of the way.

With the afternoon sun throwing his shadow out before him, Finn marched across the street and back up the Steel's walk, a look of determination on his face. He squared his shoulders and rang the doorbell.

“Hi, Savannah,” he said as the girl answered the door. “Can I talk to Rafe, please?”

She smiled at him. “He's in the family room.” As she waved him inside, she pointed to his neck. “Hey, where's your what-do-you-call-it?”

“My torc? Oh, I…I gave it to someone.”

Before she could ask another question, he hurried toward the back of the house. Hesitating in the doorway, he fidgeted until Rafe looked up from the television.

“Hey, Rafe? Look, I'm sorry I was being…you know. This morning.” He curled his toes inside his shoes as he waited.

His friend punched the mute button and unfolded himself from the recliner. “Being a jerk?”

Finn nodded.

Walking over, Rafe swatted him in the stomach with the back of his hand. He grinned when Finn failed to block it. “Yeah, me, too.”

Finn took a deep breath. “Something happened. While you were gone.” He cleared his throat. “Um…Asher died suddenly. On the Fourth. From a stroke. We had the funeral the day afterwards.”

“Oh.” Rafe blinked with surprise. “So, are you okay?”

Finn nodded.
I will be
, he thought to himself.

The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: July 9

What I Learned
Today
Two Days Ago:

First: Sometimes, bad things happen. And it's really nobody's fault.

Second: A friend is someone who likes you when you don't like yourself.

The Journal of Gideon Lir: July 9

Ye, gods, another attack. I scarcely reached Finn in time. He is struggling so with Asher's death; I should have checked him for a weapon before we left the house.

With the eclipse tomorrow, the Amandán are becoming bolder. What do they know that we don't know?

Mac Roth is spending hours in research, trying to bury his grief as he searches for any more clues as to the Spear's location and identity.

If we cannot find a way to stop the enemy, I fear that the Tuatha De Danaan will truly become no more than a legend.