When the Stars Threw Down Their Spears: The Goblin Wars, Book Three (25 page)

Gil rebounded from a flip and raced up to them.

“Eeeeeeee!” he said when he saw Teagan’s eyes. “We’re going to run!”

“Yes!” Teagan grinned.

“We’re hunting Dump Dogs,” Finn said. “The kind with big teeth. Are you sure you want to come?”

Gil nodded.

“There will be cars,” Teagan warned.

“Men are not afraid of cars,” Gil said.

“Keep that in mind.” Finn opened the back gate. “Because I can’t be holding hands tonight.”

Twenty-two

T
HE
smell of the storm sent shivers of delight down Teagan’s spine. Finn started down the alley at an easy trot, and Teagan let him set the pace. She could run all night, and Gil could almost keep up with her, but Finn’s body had limits.

Grizabella was sitting on top of a Dumpster, but she jumped behind it as they approached.
Either my eyes or Finn the
cat-sídhe
killer are too much for her
, Teagan thought. Finn stopped when they reached the street, catching Teagan’s arm as she started to pass him.

“Sluagh,”
he said.

The gray-skinned creature moved spiderlike across the side of the building, turned its hungry face toward them—then dropped to the ground and dove down a storm drain.

“That’s interesting,” Finn said. “Maybe you don’t look as tasty as the creature thought you did the other night.”

Teagan laughed. When the
sluagh
had come for her before, it had thought she was dying. It must have thought it could catch her soul, helpless and confused as a newborn, to feed on. That might have worked in the first moment she’d stepped out of her body. But not now.

They picked up the pace as they left the alley. There were very few cars on the street, but Teagan turned her eyes away from the drivers, and Gil hid behind Finn every time one passed. They even saw Seamus McGillahee’s van once, prowling like a great white elephant. If he saw them, he didn’t stop.

“What would he do if he found the Dump Dogs?” Finn asked.

“The same thing we would do. Dial Raynor’s Rescue.”

“See, that’s the thing.” Finn started trotting again. “Raynor can’t just keep toasting the neighborhood, can he? And without that fire or his truck to run over the creatures with, he’s not that much help. I’m the one who has to deal with the Dogs.”

Teagan didn’t comment. She’d told her dad they would call. And when she called, Raynor would come.

It was a relief to reach the cemetery, where she didn’t have to worry about drivers being distracted by her eyes. The cold iron was barely a tingle as she ducked through the fence.

They walked through the woods silently, alert for any movement in the bushes. Aside from the rustling of mice in the leaves, there was nothing. When they reached the manicured lawns, Teagan hesitated in order to get her bearings. She’d been in Rosehill after dark only once, when she’d taken a Haunted Chicago tour with Abby.

There had been nothing in the cemetery that night but moldering bodies and scary stories. But there was something here now. The
scratch, scratch, scratch
she’d heard when they’d buried Bill Bailey was louder. It was all around her in the dark air, moving when the wind shifted.

“Do you hear that, Finn?” she asked.

“I hear the wind in the bushes.”

“No,” Teagan said. “That’s not it. Something’s digging in the air.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I hear it, too,” Gil said. “It’s scary.”

Teagan turned in a circle. “I can’t figure out which direction it’s coming from.”

“I’ll keep my ears open,” Finn said. “Let’s get going.” They had more than three hundred acres to search, including the woods.

They spread out, keeping just within sight of one another, and ran through the dark shadows of the tombstones and mausoleums, over the graves of Civil War soldiers.

“Tea,” Finn called when they had covered half the cemetery.

Gil had stopped to stare at the statue of the little girl emerging from the filled-in fountain at the Vehon monument.

“A baby Greenteeth,” he whispered.

Teagan took a step toward the statue. The goblin woman she’d called to her death had certainly never looked like that. She could just make out the writing on the wall behind the statue:
Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee Away
.

Scratch, scratch, scratch
.

Teagan held her breath and focused. If she didn’t find out what was making the noise, it would drive her mad.

“Who did that to her?” Gil was still staring at the statue.

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Finn asked. “She was never a real girl, boyo. Just a stone statue.”

Gil continued staring until they pulled him away.

“The Dogs aren’t here,” Finn said at last. “We need to take to the streets.”

“But
something
is here.” Teagan eyed the towers of the gothic castle that served as the front gate. The offices were in the thick walls, and probably the night watchman as well. But she
had
to know what the scratching was before they left. “I’m going up.”

“Not a good idea,” Finn said. “Rain’s coming. I’m surprised it’s not pouring on us already.”

“I
need
to.”

Finn leaned back and looked up at the crenelated top of the wall.

“Let me go first, then,” he said. He made it about ten feet up before his foot slipped and he turned and jumped to the ground. “It’s no good for climbing, Tea. The edges of the stones are all weathered round.”

“I’m going to try,” Teagan said. “My fingers are smaller than yours. I might be able to find a grip.”

The old limestone blocks were so weathered that she could use only her fingertips and toes, but she started working her way up the wall.

“How are you doing that?” Finn called softly so the night watchman wouldn’t hear.

Teagan twisted to look down at them, but she didn’t answer. Finn was standing with his hands on top of his head; Gil was trying to climb the stones after her, despite his trotter. He couldn’t make it more than two feet before he fell and got up to try again.

When she reached the top, she found that the wall was higher than it had seemed when she was climbing, but she wanted to be higher still.

Teagan jumped from crenelation to crenelation until she reached the tower. She saw Finn and Gil following along on the ground, looking up at her. She waved and started to climb again.

When she reached the top, she groped over the edge and felt the tingle of a cold iron rod. She gripped it, hoping it was anchored well enough to bear her weight as she pulled herself over. It was. Finn’s face was a pale oval in the darkness below her when she looked down again. Gil just wouldn’t give up. He was still trying to climb and falling back.

Teagan stood on the parapet, one hand gripping the iron rod for balance. She leaned out over the emptiness, spreading the fingers of her free hand and letting the wind blow through them.

Suddenly her hair started to rise, and the air around her turned sweet. Ozone. Electrons were rising from the earth below her, reaching for the opposite charge in the clouds above.
Iron rod
, she thought, but not quickly enough. The lightning poured down like a river of fire, tracing the path the electrons had made through the air.
Through her
.

In a millisecond she was filled with light and joy. With power. She let go of the rod and held the lightning inside her.

She could feel her hair moving, and she knew it wasn’t the wind. She stretched out her hand and saw Saint Elmo’s fire light her fingertips like candles.

And beyond her fingertips . . . shadow men. She could see them in the darkness all around her, scratching at the wall between the worlds with their knifelike fingertips.

“Got you,” Teagan said.

“Samhain,” the shadows sighed. “Samhain comes!”

The wind tore at her. Teagan grabbed the iron rod again, and the charge passed from her into the metal and down, then slammed through her again as the return bolt went back to the clouds, and down again—three full strokes, the darkness around her frozen in place, and then the vision was gone and Finn’s arms were around her.

Twenty-three

“T
EA
!”

“I’m fine.” She laughed out loud.

“You can’t be fine.”

“I’m better than fine.” The lighting had left a spark in her. It felt like
joy
still bouncing around inside. “How did you get up here so fast, Finn? I didn’t think you could climb that wall.”

“I had motivation, didn’t I? I thought the lightning was going to strike you, girl.”

“It did,” Teagan said. “It was wonderful.”

“You mean I hurried up here for no reason?” He glanced over the side. “Getting down might be a problem.”

“Not for—” Teagan felt her hair start to rise again.

“Lightning!” She shoved Finn down. He flattened himself on the rooftop.

Teagan jumped up on the crenelation, trying to draw the bolt, but it struck the flagpole on the center tower instead, and then thunder roared.

Finn staggered to his feet.

“LET’S GO!” he shouted, pulling her down beside him.

“Why are you yelling?” Teagan asked.

Finn slapped his ear with the palm of his hand. “SO I CAN HEAR MYSELF OVER THE RINGING.” He scooped her up and half lifted her over the side. “DOWN YOU GO.”

“I won’t leave you up here,” Teagan said.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, GIRL? I’M SENDING YOU DOWN FIRST SO YOU CAN CATCH ME IF I FALL.”

Teagan started working her way down the tower more slowly than she might have, because Finn was following her. The lightning had moved to the south, out over the city, and a few fat raindrops hit her by the time she reached the lower wall.

She waited until Finn was beside her and then they both ran, jumping from crenelation to crenelation until they found a tree close enough for Finn to jump to a branch. He climbed down, dropped out of the tree, and turned to catch her as she followed.

“WHAT HAPPENED UP THERE?” Finn bellowed.

“We’ve found the place where the gate is opening. But it won’t be tonight.” Now she understood what Raynor had been saying about Mag Mell being right next door, and far away. The shadows had been very close . . . and still a long way off at the same time.

“WHAT?”

She repeated herself, shouting this time, and Finn nodded.

Gil staggered out of the dark. He was hiccupping and there were tears on his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping his arms around Teagan. She could feel his body shaking.

“What’s wrong, Gil?”

“I promised to stay close to you. It hurt so bad, but I couldn’t climb. I tried to, but I couldn’t do it.” The phooka hadn’t been persistent; rather, he’d been bewitched by a promise into trying to do the impossible over and over again.

“
I’m
sorry.” Teagan patted his back. “I’m so sorry, Gil. I didn’t even think.” This was the second time she hadn’t thought of the promise that bound him to her. Apparently, Hákon hunted answers instead of taking care of their friends.

“I THINK HE’D BETTER STOP HUGGING MY GIRL!” Finn must have read her lips.

A light went on in an office window above them, and they all ducked.

“Back the way we came,” Teagan whispered, motioning so that Finn would understand. She was done hunting answers. It was time to hunt Dump Dogs. They didn’t stop running until they found the gap in the fence and squeezed through.

“What happened up there, then?” Finn asked, his voice not quite as loud as it had been.

“We don’t have to worry about shadows tonight,” Teagan said as they walked down the street. “When the gate opens, Rosehill will be the place.”

“How do you know?” Finn asked.

“Because I saw the shadow men when the lightning struck me.”

“You looked like a
bean-sídhe
.” Gil’s ears were still drooping. “All green and glowing.”

Even now the spark was moving inside her. The Stormrider equivalent of an adrenaline rush, she supposed. Whatever it was, it felt good.

Teagan laughed. “I can’t believe how fast you got up there, Finn.”

“I tried to climb,” Gil said. “I tried to come help you, too.” He held up his trotter. “I hate this.
I hate my broken hand!
”

“If you hug her again,” Finn said, “you might have two broken hands.”

Teagan looked down the street. The rain had been all promise and few drops, but the clouds had lowered and the air was still moist enough to make halos around the streetlights. She wanted to hunt. The Dump Dogs were out there somewhere, but if choices created the future, this Hákon was going to choose a future with friends she hadn’t driven insane or physically damaged by neglect. They could take a few minutes to make sure Gil was all right.

“You can do some things Finn can’t do.” Teagan patted the phooka’s shoulder, but she met Finn’s eyes over his head. Finn’s eyebrows went up, and then he nodded. He got it.

“He cannot,” Finn said.

“Yes, he can.”

“For instance?” Finn asked.

“He can run all night and all day.”

Gil’s ears twitched.

“I’d forgotten about that,” Finn said.

“He can swim.”

“I’d forgotten that as well.”

“And that flip he was doing in the backyard was very cool.”

Gil grinned. He ran straight up the wall in front of them, did a flip, and landed in front of Teagan.

“I saw something like that in a free-running competition last year,” Teagan said. “It’s amazing.”

“Free running?” Finn asked. “Is that what you call it? I just call it staying alive—with style. That was pretty good, boyo. But if a Dump Dog was chasing you down the alley and you came to a brick wall like this one, you’d bounce right back at it with that move, wouldn’t you?” Finn ran at the wall, jumped up and bounced off of it and executed a perfect side flip. He ended up running parallel to the wall.

“I call that a flip-switch. I don’t know if you should try it, though. One mistake and you’ll break your neck.”

Gil ran at the wall, bounced off, and tucked into a side flip. He over-rotated and staggered when he landed, but it was still very good.