Gideon's Spear (23 page)

Slipping his fingers through the back of his master's belt, Finn staggered along. His head drooped. As Gideon pulled him along, he fought a desire to simply let go and drop to the ground.

They burst out of the tunnel. Gideon tossed the torch into a nearby puddle, extinguishing it with a sizzle. Groaning, Finn slumped down on the grass. Trees rustled around him in the faint night breeze, cleansing his nose with the scent of wet pines. Stars shone overhead.
Great spot for a nap
. He started to stretch out on the ground when Gideon grabbed his arm.

“Oh, no, you don't. On your feet.”

Finn tried. He really did. But his legs wouldn't listen to him. He managed a faint squawk of protest when Gideon pulled him up.

“Can you walk?”

“I guess I'll have to.” Digging his nails into his bleeding palms, he winced when the pain helped clear his head. A little. He sucked in a deep breath and nodded at the Knight.

They headed single-file down the trail for home, Finn in the lead. While his master kept an eye and ear on the trail behind for any sound of pursuit, Finn tried to watch the sides and front for ambush. The first weary mile passed.

Thirty-Two

“Have you ever noticed, Gideon,” Finn began, talking to keep from falling asleep on his feet, “that in all the movies, the heroes usually get attacked right when they think they're all safe?”

“That seems to have happened to us several times today. ‘Twould be a gift if fate would simply allow us to return home without any more surprises.”

Finn shook his head. The movement almost knocked him off his feet. “Nah, it doesn't work that way, trust me. Think of every action movie you've watched, and name
one
that doesn't end with the monsters or the villain jumping out and attacking the heroes at the last minute.”

A long silence.

Finn whirled around.

Gideon stood a few feet back, his head cocked as if listening. His whole body was tensed, poised for action. He gestured for Finn to stay quiet.

See, this is
exactly
what I was talking about
. Finn realized he was getting punchy with exhaustion.
Any second now, the Amandán are going to leap out of the bushes and eat us. Or worse. ‘Course, I can't think what could be worse than coming out as goblin poop in about twenty-four hours
. He stifled a snigger, then swayed.

Then crumpled to the ground.

Everything became vague. Shapes milled around him. Voices spoke, his master's among them, but they made no sense. Once, he thought he heard someone say his name, but before he could figure out how to make his tongue work, he was being lifted to his feet.

Strong arms hoisted him up. Unable to hold his head still, he let it loll against a broad shoulder. Something bristly tickled his face. He peeled open an eyelid.

It was a red beard.

Smiling, he closed his eye again.

* * *

Gideon looked back at Mac Roth walking behind him with Finn in his arms. “Let me have him now. You've done enough.”

“Are ye daft? Ye can scarcely put one foot in front of the other. All we need is for ye to drop the poor lad.” Mac Roth gestured with his chin. “Ye just concentrate on getting yer pitiful self home.” They walked in silence for a while, late-night crickets
keer-cheeping
them along, then Mac Roth spoke. “And what about Iona?”

“She disappeared. But I know we've not seen the last of her.” He looked up as if speaking to the sky. “I vow, one day, she will meet the point of my knife. For Kean
and
for Finn.”
For both my sons
.

“Vengeance?”

“Retribution.”

They continued down the trail. The lights of High Springs shimmered through the trees. Ahead of the Knights, Lochlan's moonstone danced and bobbed from side to side as the apprentice led the way home.

Lochlan glanced back. “What's wrong with Finn?”

“When he uses his blood to kill the beasties, it weakens him.” Gideon paused, then added, “That, plus the last eight or nine hours of fighting for his life.”

“Did he kill
all
of the Amandán?”

Gideon chuckled. “No, Lochlan O'Neill, not all. We've left a few for you.”

“Good. Because I'm running out of time. The Festival is next month.”

“Your father?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I wish he wouldn't…” His voice trailed off.

“Push you so hard?”

“And other things.” Without another word, Lochlan sped up.

Not sure what to say, Gideon sighed in relief when he spotted the stone wall of his back yard a few minutes later. In a single file, they trudged along, following the path down the ravine and back up to the other side. When Lochlan swung the gate open, a voice called out from the darkness.

“Stop right there.” The
chk-chk
menace of a shotgun being racked echoed from the yard.

Pulling Lochlan behind him, Gideon held up an empty hand. “It's me, Rufus Steel. And I'll thank you to point your weapon elsewhere—we've young ones with us.” A flashlight clicked on. Its beam darted from Gideon to Lochlan to Mac Roth, standing farther back with Finn in his arms. “We're coming in.”

As the Tuatha De Danaan stepped into the yard, the porch light flicked on. Emerging from the shadow of the house, Rufus and Susanna Steel hurried toward them, Rufus keeping the barrel of his gun pointed toward the ground. An older man, his white hair and beard in sharp contrast to his black skin, followed with the twins in tow.

Walking beside the other Knight, Gideon glanced over when Finn stirred and murmured something to Mac Roth.

“I said, put me down,” Finn repeated weakly, “before anyone sees me.”

“A bit late for that. But, if you insist.” Mac Roth let him down.

Finn promptly folded to the ground. As Gideon knelt beside him, everyone began talking at once. Susanna Steel, a black medical bag in one hand, squeezed through the throng and joined the pair. Untroubled by the wet grass, she took a knee and studied them, her eyes darting from the cut on Gideon's head to the bruises on Finn's face.

“Which one of you is injured the worst?”

Master and apprentice pointed to each other.

* * *

For the next hour, Gideon's home was packed with people talking and eating. As Gideon and Mac Roth explained the evening's events to the adults in the living room, Finn, Lochlan, and the twins worked their way through a platter of brown bread and jam at the kitchen table. While the others drank juice or water, Finn gulped a large glass of
sláinte
nettle tea. After a while, the older man joined them.

“This is our grandfather, Joseph Nyeta.” Savannah looped an arm through her grandfather's when he took a seat next to her. “Grandfather, this is Finnegan MacCullen and Lochlan O'Neill.” She hastily added before Finn could speak, “Oh, yeah. And he goes by Finn, not Finnegan.”

Mr. Nyeta inclined his head, his smile as warm as the sun. “I have been eager to meet you. And your young friend, too,” he said, his accent more pronounced than Mrs. Steel's.

“
Céad mile fáilte
,” Finn replied.

“Ah, the formal Gaelic greeting.” Mr. Nyeta beamed. “My friend back in South Africa would be pleased to hear it from the lips of youth—Padraic O'Brien sends greetings to his American brothers. And I wish to thank you for saving my grandchildren's lives. How fortunate they are to have warriors of the Tuatha De Danaan nearby in time of need.”

“Well, they wouldn't have been in danger at all if it weren't for me.” Finn took another sip. He melted into his chair as the healing potion began to ease the aches and pains.

“We do not know that.” Mr. Nyeta waved a hand in dismissal. “In return for the great gift of their lives, I wish to do something for
you
.”

“You already have.” At Mr. Nyeta's look of confusion, Finn continued. “You told Mr. and Mrs. Steel the truth about me and Gideon. Now, they won't think he hurts me or anything.”

“Ah, yes.” The grandfather leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

Finn noticed he wore a lion's hair bracelet like Rafe's around one wrist.
I wonder if he got that hunting a lion. For real
. He focused his attention back when Mr. Nyeta continued.

“Rafe explained his father's fears for you. My son-in-law is a good man. He sought only to protect a child. If more people were willing to step forward to right injustice, this world would be a better place. I believe now he understands your injuries were from the hunt, not from abuse.”

Rafe frowned. “Hey, Grandfather, did you give me that spear with the bronze point because you knew there were Amandán nearby?”

“I must confess, yes. O'Brien became aware of rumors about the Spear and the increased attacks from the Amandán in Colorado. Knowing my daughter and family lived here, he urged me to provide you with that weapon on the slightest of chances you might have need of it. I had no idea it would travel so far and end up in the hands of a Tuatha De Danaan.” He draped an arm over Savannah's shoulder. “And perhaps, I should have given my granddaughter a weapon as well.” He hugged her. “Forgive my old-fashioned way of thinking.”

“Aw, that's okay, Grandfather. At least Rafe had his spear.”

“And it saved our butts,” Lochlan added.

“Inelegant, but true.” Gideon stepped into the kitchen, followed by Mac Roth and the Steels. “It helped save
all
our lives this evening.”

“Savannah, Rafe, time to go. Finn will be here tomorrow.” Mrs. Steel ushered her protesting children toward the front door. Mr. Nyeta followed, after promising to visit more with the Knights. Rufus Steel lingered.

“Gideon.” The man held out his hand. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“Why, you were only trying to protect Finn.” The Knight shook hands, then clapped Rufus Steel on the shoulder. “How can I fault you for that?”

“I'll contact the Department of Human Services tomorrow and straighten everything out.” With a friendly nod, he left the kitchen. A moment later, he stuck his head back in. “By the way, Gideon, that's one impressive nugget you've got on your desk. You might want to put it somewhere more secure. Like a safe deposit box.” He left again.

“Did he mean that piece of iron pyrite Rafe gave me?” Finn asked.

Gideon shrugged. “I didn't think fool's gold was worth anything.”

“Come, Lochlan.” Mac Roth gestured to his apprentice. “Time we made our way home as well.” Mac Roth shook a finger at Gideon and Finn as they rose from the table. “Try to stay out of trouble for the next twenty-four hours, eh?”

“No kidding.” Lochlan swatted Finn in the stomach as he walked past. Finn winced. “I see why we need to keep your
little secret
a secret. It sure causes the rest of us a buttload of problems.” With a grin, he trailed his master out the front door.

Fifteen minutes later, Finn crawled into bed. Every bruise and cut continued to throb, even after a hot shower and another drink of potion. He wiggled around, trying to find the spot with the fewest number of bruises.

I wonder what we're going to do about our truck. Maybe Gideon can fix it. Probably. He can fix anything
. He flexed his hands, wincing at the healing cuts.
And what about Iona? Is she going to come after us again? I wonder what's stopping her from just attacking us here?

With a wince, he reached for the lamp. Before he could turn it off, Gideon stuck his head in.

“
Codladh sumh
, Finn.”

“Hey, Gideon?” He waited until the Knight walked over and took a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Can Iona just…you know…
appear
anywhere she wants?”

“No, not really. Remember, her magic is of the earth—hence her name, Iona of the Hills. And it's why she must use raw gold as a supplement to her power. She can only appear and disappear in the region she has tainted with her enchantment. Back in our ancient home, she was quite powerful. But outside of it, she must rely heavily on the magic of gold. The farther from Ireland, the weaker her power.”

“What about inside our house? Can she show up here anytime she wants?” “No, boyo. She must be formally invited inside before she can invade. But once invited, she is free to come and go at will.”

“Like a vampire.”

Gideon snorted. “Vampires are mythical creatures. They do not exist, except in tales.”

“Werewolves? Zombies? Bigfoot?”

“Not likely.”

“Dragons?”

“We should be so lucky.”

“Leprechauns?”

“And just what kind of Irish lad are ye not to believe in the wee people?” Gideon's accent filled Finn with an odd sense of…
home
. “Next, ye'll be telling me you dinna believe in the Fey?”

Master and apprentice grinned at each other.

T
he too-quiet of the house woke Finn the next morning. He started to roll over, then yelped when every bone and muscle in his body screamed at him.
What the bleedin' ‘ell do ye think yer doing, asking us to move?
He rolled his eyes, realizing that his body spoke to him in an Irish accent.

Spying a folded paper with large letters that read
FINN—READ THIS
on the bedside table, he gingerly reached for it.
I'm going with Mac Roth to see about the truck, as well as something else. Will explain when I return. G
.

Easing out of bed, Finn made his way slowly to the bathroom, his bladder reminding him of just how much
sláinte
nettle tea he had downed last night. He grimaced when he looked in the mirror. “Ye gods, I look like crap.” Several gashes crisscrossed his face, while a blue-green bruise darkened his left jaw. He leaned closer. “And when did I get a black eye?” He tried to lift his puffy right eyelid, but it would only open halfway. His gaze drifted downward. Bruises decorated his ribs and chest.
No wonder I hurt all over
.