The Stag Lord (30 page)

Bann started to ask, then stopped himself. “His headaches, perhaps?” He raised a brow at Shay.

Max's savage bark ripped apart the air.

Bann bolted for the door, followed by the others. At the back wall, the dog raged, flinging himself at the bricks and snarling, frantic to tear into whoever or whatever was on the other side of it. Bann sprinted across the yard.

He was halfway across before he realized it was an empty yard.

Terror sliced him. Then a whimper from overhead. He skidded to a stop and looked up. Cor was crouched on the highest section of the jungle gym, eyes squeezed shut and trembling so hard the bars shuddered under him.

“Go! We'll take care of whatever's out there.” Shay pushed him toward the boy as the others raced past. “You get Cor.”

“Here.” He slid his knife free and presented it hilt-first. His fingers lingered on hers. “Be careful.”

While the others approached the wall, Shay assuring Max that, yes, he was a good dog, but shut the hell up now, Bann walked closer to the gym. “Cor, lad. ‘Tis all right. Come down now.”

“Is he gone?” The words were a strangled gasp.

“Who?”

“
Him
.”

Ice water shot through the Knight's veins. “Where?”

“In the t-t-trees.” Cor's teeth were chattering so hard, Bann could barely understand him.

He whirled around. “Hold!” The Knights paused, still a few feet from the wall. “Stay here, son.” He hurried to the others. “Cor spotted Cernunnos. In the woods.”

“Sure hope these wards work,” Rory muttered, pointing at the ash staffs attached lengthwise to the uppermost section of the inside of the wall. The topmost rows of bricks were capped with bronze for further protection from the Amandán.

With a nod, Bann took his knife back from Shay, then gestured toward a cottonwood growing nearby. Several stout branches stretched out over the wall, as if reaching for something. “Hugh. Rory. Give me a leg up.”

“Why?” Shay's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“I want to get a look at him. Cor's the only one who has actually seen the god.”
And for another reason
. He waited until Hugh and Rory formed a stirrup with their joined hands. Clamping the knife between his teeth, he reached for the closest limb as the Knights lifted him up to a convenient fork. He jammed a foot into the junction and hauled himself higher. Taking the weapon from his mouth, he grabbed a branch over his head for balance, then leaned forward. Even with several yards separating him and the wall, he grimaced when a low-grade shock zinged through his body from the power emanating from the wards. He tried not to think about what would happen if he
actually
touched the magic-imbued staffs.

Thick stands of pine and spruce intermingled with low-squatting scrub oak and a few lonely aspens. Snow formed humps and bumps, smoothing the landscape. Inching higher, Bann looked down at the ground on the far side of the wall.

Tracks of bare feet marred the snow. They ran the length of the fence, coming from the east and heading west. The tracks changed in just a few strides from human to deer, then back again. The
wrongness
of it made the skin on the back of his neck prickle.

Enough. This ends now
.

Coming to a decision, Bann took a deep breath, then straightened as best he could and wrapped an arm around the trunk. Tightening his hold on the blade, he raised it over his head.

“Lord Cernunnos,” he shouted in Gaelic. “I am Bannerman Boru, long-son of the High King. Knight of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. I offer you a chance to fulfill your oath of vengeance. I will meet you in single combat.”

A long silence.

“You honor me, calling me
lord
.” A voice, human but overlaid with a hint of a high-pitched bleat that reminded Bann of a doe calling for her fawn, answered from a nearby thicket to the west. “My due, to be sure, but appreciated. Still, I would expect nothing less from a descendent of the Boru.”

Bann scanned the area, trying to spot where the voice was coming from. He jerked his head to the east when it spoke from that direction.

“And I ask your pardon for the actions of my minions. The Fir Bolgs who attacked you and yours, and survived, have been dealt with. Sreng has the others firmly under control.”

“I thank you.”

“Now, as to your challenge to meet me on the field of battle, I decline. My demand is now for your son, not your death. Remember, Samhain nears. Either give over the child, or the Tuatha Dé Danaan shall die. Beginning with this clan. Better one should perish than an entire race.”

“Why? Why do you want him?”

Silence answered.

“Son of a bitch,” Bann muttered, switching back to English. “Gods, I hate gods.” He turned and motioned the others to stand aside, then leaped down, landing with a grunt.

“Did you hear?”

Hugh and Ann nodded. The younger Knights looked confused. “Our Gaelic's kind of weak,” James admitted.

While Ann filled them in, Bann spotted Shay balanced next to Cor on the top of the jungle gym. As he hurried over to help them, the boy nodded reluctantly and allowed Shay to take his hand. With her aid, he clambered down, a greenish tinge around his mouth. Terror made his movements jerky.

Once on the ground, Cor's body tensed. With a moan, he bent over and heaved. Vomit, speckled with the remains of the raisin muffins he had had for breakfast, spattered on the snowy ground. Max lowered his head, eager for a share. Shoving the dog to one side with his foot and a stern command to leave it, Bann patted his son's back as he gagged again.

Shay jumped down the last foot. “I'll take him inside—I've some tea that will settle his stomach.” She wrapped an arm around Cor, then lowered her voice, the tone icy as the air. “Then, Mr. I-Challenge-The-Crazy-God-To-AFrikkin'-Duel, you and I are going to have a little talk.”

27

G
UIDING A WOBBLY
C
OR
to the table, Shay pushed the books and papers to one side. “Sit.” After checking that the teakettle still had hot water left over from lunch, she dampened a paper towel and handed it to him. “Wipe your face.”

“I hate throwing up,” he said in a teary voice. “It always comes out my nose.”

Refraining from making a face, she nodded. “Tea will be ready in just a moment.” She pulled the box of chamomile from the cupboard, unwrapped a bag, and dropped it into an empty mug, then poured the hot water over it. Lingering at the counter, she folded the empty wrapper into smaller and smaller perfect squares, fighting back her anger at the Knight.

What the hell was he thinking
? Shaking her head, she checked the tea; its apple-y scent reminded her of summer. After dunking the sachet a few times, she took a seat next to him and handed him the mug. “Drink it slow.” After a few sips, she asked, “Better?”

Cor nodded, face pale except for two hectic patches on his cheeks. She reached out and pushed his hair back, her hand lingering on his forehead.
Hmm, he's running a low-grade fever. Not surprising, what with all the stress he's been under, not to mention being out in the cold yesterday and today
. “I think someone needs a rest.” She was careful not to say
nap
.

“Shay?”

“Yeah, Cor.”

“What was Dad doing? On the wall?”

“Being stupid.” The words spilled out before she could stop them.

A corner of his mouth curled up in a Bann-like expression.

The back door opened. The rest of the Knights trooped in, stomping their feet. As boots and shoes were removed, Bann walked over and knelt next to Cor. “And how is my boy?”

“Better.” He took another sip. “What were you doing on the wall?” Before the man could answer, he continued. “Shay said you were being stupid.”

“Snitch,” she muttered, then spoke in a louder voice. “Bann, Cor's running a fever. He should probably be in bed.”

“Tattletale,” Cor hissed back.

“Takes one to know one.” She grinned when Cor laughed, choking on his tea. “C'mon, you. To bed.”

To her surprise, Cor followed her up the stairs to his room with only a symbolic resistance. After toeing off his shoes and wet socks, he climbed into the still-unmade bed and burrowed under the covers. She tucked them tighter, then took a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“Shay?”

“Hmm?”

“I don't want Dad to die.”

It was like someone had kicked her in the gut. The tone of resignation in Cor's voice, like he knew it was going to happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it, made her want to take a knife to that monster out there and start hacking.

“He won't die.”

“Promise?” Cor's eyes searched hers.

“I promise.” She leaned closer. “And neither will you, Cormac Boru.”

“And not you or Max?”

“Nope, not me or Max. Speaking of which…” She turned her head and gave a sharp whistle between her teeth, secretly proud of mastering that skill after weeks of practice as a twelve-year-old. A thunder of paws on the stairs, then Max burst into the room. He skidded to a stop, brown eyes pleading for permission, tail flailing in anticipation.
Ann will kill me, but
… She patted the bed. “Go ahead.”

The dog leaped on the bed, just missing Cor, circled once, then lay down beside his boy with an almighty heave of contentment. Snaking an arm out from under the covers, Cor buried his fingers in Max's fur before closing his eyes.

Shay watched him sleep for a long minute.
This kid doesn't need any more crap in his life. And what he
really
doesn't need is his father doing something unbelievably risky
. The thought of losing Bann, and thus Cor, made her furious.

And heartsick.

She rose and tiptoed out, careful to leave the door ajar for Max. Throwing back her shoulders, she marched down the stairs and across the house to the kitchen, rehearsing the words she was going to have with a certain Knight.

Everyone was grouped around the kitchen table, eating cold grilled cheese sandwiches and reheated soup while studying the books and journals. Bann looked up from a mug of tea, wary. She opened her mouth, ready to launch into a tirade, then closed it with a snap.

It was the lines of weariness radiating from the corners of his eyes, the underlying desperation of fighting a losing battle, even the fading bruises on his face, which pulled her up sharp and short. Tenderness and a sudden fierce desire to protect him—
in life, as in chess, the queen protects the king, as the old saying goes
—as he would protect her and his son, whipsawed her right around. A realization swept over her.
He needs a friend, not a critic
.

“He's already asleep. Max is with him.” She sat down in the empty chair next to Bann with a simple nod and a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Under the table, her thigh brushed against his as she reached for a potato chip from the bowl in the center of the table. Enjoying the salty crunch, she glanced down at his hands as they turned another page in the book he was perusing. The hands that had explored her body last night.

The same hands that could wield a weapon or cup a child's cheek.

Warrior. Lover. Father.

Husband?

“Shay?”

She blinked and looked around. Everyone was staring at her, Ann with a smug smile. “What? Did I miss something?”

“Yup.” Rory spoke before anyone could answer. “Bann just announced that he's crazy in love with you and wants you to bear his passion child.”

Bann choked on his tea as the rest of them roared with laughter, Rory slapping the table. Shay forced a fake chuckle, silently wondering what the penalty was for murdering a clan member.

“Pardon our family's warped sense of humor,” Ann said, passing Bann a napkin. “Some of us”—she frowned at Rory—“do not know when to keep our mouths closed.”

“Just kidding.” Rory smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Teasing Shay about her boyfriends is a favorite pastime.”

Hugh's eyebrows shot up. “
Boyfriend
? Now, when did
that
come about?”

Shay buried her face in her hands.

With a weary sigh, Bann climbed the stairs, boots in one hand. His legs felt like someone had emptied the marrow from his bones and replaced it with concrete. He was grateful Ann had called for a break after several hours of unsuccessful research, declaring a rest period for the entire household; he wondered if she knew about him and Shay. Something told him she did. And maybe even approved.

Rory and James walked behind him, both carrying backpacks. As he paused at Cor's door, they continued on, complaining good-naturedly to each other about sharing a room. They stopped at the door next to Shay's.

Just as well. I need sleep
. A tingle ran along his back and down into his groin at the memory of last night.
Focus, Boru. Concentrate on how to kill that thing out there
. His warp spasm bared its teeth at the thought of Cor being only a brick wall's thickness from the Stag Lord.
Not yet
, he told the beast inside.
But soon. Stand ready
. He slipped through the half-open door.