Chapter Four

The frigid air took my breath away, and I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck. Finn trudged through the snow, his eyes squinting against the freezing wind.

“So…” I said. “Why do you think the Fir Bolgs are after me?”

“Do you know about the Fir Bolgs?” Finn dodged a puddle of slush as we crossed the street.

“I know they were the First Men of Ireland, and I know they were banished to the far reaches of Tír na nÓg. Other than that…the mortal records are pretty skimpy.”

Finn nodded. “The Fir Bolgs have absolutely no say in the Faerie realm. There are occasional rebellions, but King Bodb Dearg is quick to squash them. What that Fir Bolg was doing here is a puzzle to me.”

Snow collected on Finn’s shoulders, and I resisted the urge to brush it away with my gloved hand as I half jogged to keep up with his long strides.

“Do you think it might be Edward Thornton?” I said.

Edward Thornton was the leader of an occult group obsessed with the Faerie world. He had been working with my sociopathic Fomorian ex-husband, Bres the Beautiful, in order to gain access to the mysterious Tree of Life. He had escaped the last battle at the seat of the Faerie realm, the city of Teamhair, and no one had seen him since.

“Doubtful.” Finn shook his head. “The Fir Bolgs do not have the political clout Bres did, and Thornton is attracted to power.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his hand settling on the back of his neck. “No, I think there is a far more complex plan at work here.”

We walked up to the Forresters’ rambling Victorian. A shiny red BMW hummed up to the curb, and a tall man in a suit climbed out of it, flashing us a toothy smile.

“You must be Finn and Elizabeth,” he called out to us as we made our way across the street. “I’m Bill Brenson with Brenson and Associates.”

“Finn O’Connell.” Finn gave the man a firm handshake.

Bill glanced at the two of us. “So you two know each other?” the lawyer asked.

In the biblical sense?

I nodded, suppressing a smirk.

“Yes,” Finn replied.

“Excellent!” The lawyer beamed at me, and I smiled back weakly.

Bill pulled a briefcase and a larger duffel bag out of his car. “I have the keys to the house. We can meet inside.”

I swallowed hard, eyeing the stained glass front door. The thought of going in there made my chest tighten. No Moiré inside to offer me a cup of tea, no Dr. F inside to lend me a copy of his J. M. Synge plays. Just an empty house, dark and abandoned.

Finn followed Bill up the steps but turned back when he realized I lingered on the sidewalk. His heavy hand squeezed my shoulder, and he stooped to meet my downcast eyes. “We don’t have to go inside,” he whispered.

Blinking hard, I stared down at the cracks in the sidewalk. “I’m okay. It’s just hard being here again…”

“We can go back to the diner.”

“No, let’s get this over with.” I shrugged past him and followed Bill into the foyer.

“It’s freezing in here!” The lawyer rushed into the hallway, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them. He pushed a few buttons on the thermostat and musty warm air emanated from the vents near my feet. Beyond that damp basement smell, I breathed in the familiar scents of orange polish and old books. A thick layer of dust muted everything, like a photograph out of focus. All the jewel-toned walls Moiré loved appeared faded in the thin winter light bleeding through the sheer drapes.

“So, let’s take a seat in here.” Bill gestured toward the bright red fainting couch, and he settled into Dr. F’s creased leather chair.

“The will is pretty straight forward,” the lawyer began, unsnapping his briefcase and handing us two copies of the last will and testament. “The dispersal of property and assets are clearly outlined there. To you, Finn O’Connell, the Forresters left all their monetary assets. You can see the sum on line two.” I looked over at line two, and my eyes bugged out. I knew that being a part of the Fianna had its perks, but now Finn was pretty much set for life.

“To you, Elizabeth Tanner, they left this house and all the contents of the library.”

“Excuse me?” My mouth dropped open.

“Please see line three there.” He tapped on the paper.

Sure enough, there it was in black and white. I was a homeowner now. A real grownup.

“But I can’t, I mean…I can’t pay property taxes on this thing!”

“It looks like the Forresters took care of that, too. Please see line four.”

I skimmed through the writing, but my eyes blurred with all the technical legal-speak.

“What does this mean?” I asked.

Bill smiled. “It means the Forresters set up a trust through our offices to pay for this house as long as you remain owner of the property, of course. I suppose you could sell it if you wished, but—”

“No!” I shouted, much louder than I meant to. “I…I want to keep the house.”

“Excellent.” Bill shuffled the papers in a stack on his knee. “So there’s just one more matter to attend to.” He reached back into his briefcase and brought out two copies of another form. “When Moiré became sick, she came to me secretly, insisting Kevin could not know. I thought it odd at the time, but…” Bill chuckled beneath his breath. “I’m paid very well not to ask questions.”

He gave Finn a conspiratorial grin, but Finn stared back at him blankly.

Bill cleared his throat. “Anyway, she had me draft up this will, which I would only present to you upon Kevin Forrester’s death. It seems she left something for each of you.”

He reached inside the duffel bag he had set down beside his chair. “To you, Finn O’Connell, Moiré left this copy of Thomas Moore’s Irish Melodies.”

Bill handed over the book, and Finn let it fall open in his hands, the molding paper crackling like an eggshell. He studied an engraving, his finger tracing a woman playing a harp.

I leaned over. “Why do you think Moiré wanted you to have that book in particular?”

“I don’t know.” Finn frowned, shutting the book and then placing it in his coat pocket.

“Well,” Bill said brightly, “I’m sure she had her reasons. So, Elizabeth, to you Moiré left a…” Bill squinted at the will “…a gay bulge.”

“A what?” Finn and I said in unison.

“Um…this thing.” Bill pulled out a long, narrow case from the duffel bag. “It’s some sort of antique weapon. She said she thought Elizabeth would like it.”

My skin prickled, the will shaking in my hand. Why would Moiré give me a weapon?

Finn looked down at Moiré’s will and then back to the case. “Do you mean a Gáe Bulg?” he said, pronouncing it “guy-bohlg” with a hard G.

Bill smiled as he unlocked the clasps holding the case closed. “Yes, that sounds right.”

He brought the open case toward me. Nestled in midnight blue velvet lay a staff with one long spearhead and shorter barbs below it. It was the kind of weapon that, once it entered a person, it damn well wasn’t coming out without serious internal damage.

“Whoa…” I made to pick up the wooden shaft of the spear, but Finn grabbed my wrist. “Hey!” I shouted, but he flashed me a dark warning stare.

Finn took hold of the case and clicked it shut.

“Probably not wise to touch it until you get it appraised by an expert, right, Elizabeth?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah…I guess?” I quirked my eyebrow, and he gave me a pointed look in return.

“So that’s it.” Bill clapped his hands together. “If the two of you don’t mind signing these forms…” He prattled on a little about a few other formalities, but after we signed all the appropriate papers, he shook our hands and left.

“Ok,” I said after closing the door on Bill, “what is up with that spear? Holy shit!”

Finn folded his arms. “Elizabeth, that is not just any spear.”

“Yeah, I know! Did you see the barbs on that thing? Let’s go play with it!” Finn grasped my arm before I could open the case again.

“No. I mean, it is a magical gift. Do you know the Cú Chulainn story?”

I nodded. “Cú Chulainn. Legendary warrior, ran with the hounds…had freaky warp spasms…”

Finn sighed. “The Gáe Bulg was Cú Chulainn’s spear, Elizabeth. A gift from Scáthach, the warrior woman who taught him to fight.”

“No way…” I whispered, eyeing the case.

“It is not a toy. We need to be careful.”

“Yeah, I get it.” I knelt down by the case. “But, whatever it is, Moiré wanted me to have it, so…” I reached inside and felt an intense pull between my hand and the spear. It flew into my hands, and I swung the spear in an arc. As if controlled by invisible strings, I danced around the room with it, swinging it in the air with a kind of balance and grace I’d never before possessed.

I laughed as the spear directed my movements. “Finn! Check it out, I’m like a ninja!”

He growled deep in his throat, leaning against the doorway and eying me with a dark stare.

I met his gaze, and my feet led me toward him. I couldn’t control my movements, the spear taking control of my whole body. With a whirl, I brandished the spear, and it made right for his neck. I screamed, trying to let go of the weapon.

Finn’s eyes grew large as saucers, and he ducked at the last moment. “Gaisced Uath!”

His sword materialized in a flash of steel.

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead as I tried to pull my hands away from the wooden shaft, but the spear worked on its own, jabbing straight for Finn’s heart.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted as he parried the attack.

“I don’t know!” The spear grazed his arm, and he danced backward, knocking over a lamp. Blocking another attack, he grunted against the force of the spearhead.

I circled him like a Jedi, my feet moving in an intricate series of steps before swiping at his knees. Panic gripped my chest, and I tried with all the strength I had to resist its vicious pull.

“It’s the spear! I can’t let go! I can’t control it!”

“What do you mean you can’t control it?” Finn cried, blocking the attack.

“DO I LOOK LIKE CHUCK NORRIS TO YOU?”

I spun the spear in a wide arc, Finn’s sword ringing out on impact. The force of the block threw him off balance, and he staggered back, catching his heel on the carpet. Landing flat on his ass, he recovered, bringing up his sword right before I pierced his insides. But with a quick flick of the barbed spearhead, Finn’s sword flew out of his hands.

The weapon forced me to raise it up, the sharp point gleaming before I sent it barreling toward Finn’s throat.

He shouted something in Druid and the spear disappeared.

“Jesus Christ!” Collapsing on top of Finn, I held his face in my trembling hands. “Oh my God, are you okay?” I ran my fingers down his body, searching for cuts. “Did I hurt you? Oh my God Finn, I’m so sorry, the spear—”

Finn gave me a reassuring glance, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I’m fine.” He grabbed my hands, covering them with his own. “Are you all right?”

“What the actual fuck, Moiré?” I blinked back hot tears of relief, leaning against the couch. “You couldn’t put a warning label on that thing?”

Finn let out a deep breath. “No, it’s my fault. I knew the spear had powers, I just didn’t know…” He placed his hand at the back of my head and smoothed my hair. “’Tis all right, Elizabeth. I’m fine.”

His touch sent a shiver down my spine and our eyes locked. I couldn’t believe I’d almost killed him with that crazy spear. Adrenaline pumped through me, and I gasped for air, trying to push down a wave of nausea. Swallowing hard, I broke his stare and stood up, brushing dust from my jeans.

“What did you do?” I readjusted my ponytail. “Where’s the spear now?”

“In the Druid-created anti-space the Fianna use to store our weapons.”

“Uh…what?”

Finn ignored me and looked back at the empty case splayed open on the coffee table. “So strange my spell would work to make it disappear. It’s as if Moiré knew…”

“Knew what?”

Finn shrugged. “Fianna weapons are infused with spells only the wielder of that weapon can use. The Druids gave us this magic. There is one exception, of course.”

“What’s that?”

“Your trainer can use his or her own spell to make an initiate’s weapon appear or reappear. Moiré was my trainer. She knew my spell. She was the one who taught it to me.”

My mind started putting together the pieces. “So you’re saying…?”

“Moiré placed my spell on this spear. She must have known about you…known that we would come together somehow. She must have wanted me to train you.”

“But how? How would she have known about me?”

Finn’s hands brushed across the crushed velvet inside the case. “Moiré was ex-Fianna. She knew how to look into someone’s past. Or maybe she just…knew. Moiré had a strange sixth sense about her.”

A memory flashed in my mind of me standing alone at the graduate student mixer, peeling the label off my craft beer and shyly making eye contact with a small woman with short black hair. Her brown eyes widened, and she excused herself from a group of grad students. Confident as a raven in her trim pantsuit, Moiré slinked up to me and placed a gentle hand on my pilling sweater, a warm smile spreading across her sharp features.

You must be Elizabeth.

As if she had been expecting me. Locking arms, she pulled me into the throng of people like an honored guest. I had no idea what she had seen in me, but for the first time I felt I might be someone.

A long silence settled into the room, and I ran my toe along the edge of the carpet. “So am I going to get it back?”

“You will get your spear back when you know how to use it.”

I balked at Finn. “Use it? Did you see me? I was totally kicking your ass!”

Finn’s face flushed with anger. “It’s not funny, Elizabeth. You could have killed me.”

My shoulders slumped, my heart sinking into my chest. “I’m sorry.”

Finn loomed over me. “A weapon like that requires a strong hand. Control. I shall teach you, Elizabeth. It’s what Moiré wanted.”

I knocked against his shoulder. “A strong hand, huh? You sure you can keep up with me?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I can keep up.” He pushed me back a little too hard.

“Hey!”

“That’s for almost decapitating me,” Finn said in a low voice, but the side of his mouth tilted upward.

I pushed him back. “Cut it out!”

In a flash, he slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I screamed through a fit of giggles, the room tilting upside down.

“Or you’ll do what?” Finn whirled me around the room. “Or you’ll do what, Elizabeth?”

“Put me down!” I squealed, banging my fists against his back.

“Oh, not so tough now without your spear, are you!”

“I mean it, Finn!”

Before I could yell at him again, he dropped me gently onto the couch, his face hovering over mine. Panting, I stared up at him, biting my lip. My sweater had gathered below my chest, and he pulled it down, his fingers grazing over my belly button. He made a low sound in his throat and stood up, then held out his hand and pulled me up from the couch. His face turned cold, and he turned away from me.

“Grab your things,” he said over his shoulder. “We should try to make Chicago before nightfall.”