TUGGING OFF HIS WORK gloves, Bann looked down in satisfaction at the cord of wood nestled in its new cradle. He had spent the morning building the holder, aided by his son; the physical labor had helped work out the lingering rush of the warp spasm. The holding rack rested off the ground on a platform of redwood in a corner of the yard away from anything more flammable than the fence.
“Being able to build or repair things,” he had said to Cor, belted in the back seat as they drove the new truck to the local Home Depot for materials, “gives a man a certain power, you might say.” Speaking of power. He pushed down on the accelerator, enjoying the surge as they headed east on the state highway that bisected High Springs.
“Power like when we say the words of the Song?” Cor had asked. “To make us faster and stronger?”
“Not really. We use those words the Goddess gave our ancestors to help in battle or on the hunt. The kind of power I’m talking about is caring for your family. That’s one of the most important things a man does—protecting and tending to the wants and needs of his wife and children.”
Cor frowned. “But that’s what Shay told me her job was. To watch out for you. And to take care of me and you and everyone in the clan. She said especially you.”
“Me?”
“Uh-huh. She said you need more watching out for than anyone.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” He glanced back in the rear-view mirror. “What else did she say about me?”
“That you think everything bad that happens to us is your fault and you have to fix it and not let anything else bad happen to us.”
What kind of man would I be if I didn’t at least try? “What do you think?” The old question haunted him. Does he blame me for his mother’s death?
Cor shrugged. “Shay told me that bad things just happened and it’s nobody’s fault and that us three just need to take care of each other.” His face brightened. “And now Sam, too.”
Bann smiled in the mirror, his heart easing. “And Sam, as well.”
With their breaths smelling like bratwursts purchased from the hot dog stand outside the hardware store, they had returned home, a load of lumber jutting out from the bed and a red warning flag waving at the traffic behind them. Before starting the firewood rack, Bann had taken the time to Sam-proof the fence. Then, following lunch—because the hot dogs were just a snack, really—they moved the pile, log by log, to its new home.
Now, surveying the cord—ranked and well stowed—Bann tucked the gloves into his back pocket. He pulled up the tail of his flannel shirt, damp with sweat, as much from the bright sun as from exertion, and wiped his face. Next to him, Cor mimicked his moves, right down to the face swipe. A corner of Bann’s mouth twitched. “Well done, son. It went a lot faster with your help,” he lied. He tried not to think about the number of crooked nails he had removed from the structure after Cor’s enthusiastic, but poorly aimed, hammer blows.
“Can I play with Sam now?”
Bann waved him away. As he stowed his tools, each one hitting the metal toolbox with a clang, Cor ran toward the house and disappeared. A few minutes later, he and the puppy burst back out. Sam made a beeline for the first patch of dirt and dried grass and squatted down while Cor waited impatiently.
“Tell him he’s a good boy and give him a treat for peeing when and where he’s supposed to.” Shay appeared, dressed in exercise clothes that included running tights, a neon green lightweight fleece over a T-shirt, and running shoes. On her right leg, she also carried her favorite knife, slender but lethal, in a black sheath fastened around her thigh. She walked over to Cor and passed him a handful of doggy goodies. “That way, he learns to associate the act with praise.”
“Does it really work?” Cor asked, offering one to Sam. “Ouch!” He shook his fingers, then scowled at the puppy munching unconcerned. “Bad dog! No bite!” Sam wagged his tail.
“It did when we were toilet training you.” Bann bent to one knee as he sorted nails into the correct compartments. “One raisin for every successful aim and squirt.” He grinned to himself when Cor huffed in embarrassment, then began a tug of war with Sam using one of the work gloves.
Shay sauntered over and inspected the cached pile of logs. “This is where I’m supposed to say that I like a man who’s handy with his tools, but I’m not going to. Too cliché.”
Bann eyed her outfit as he finished organizing his box. “Were you planning on going for a run?” He started to tell her that it was too dangerous and that he didn’t want her running alone. Thinking back to yesterday’s skirmishes—not fights. Fights are what Elizabeth and I had. Shay and I just have lively disagreements—he worked on keeping his tone inquisitive.
“No.” To his relief, she shook her head, ponytail swinging side to side. “At least, not by myself. As much as I want to, I think it’s too much of a risk, what with Tullys and Cernunnos skulking about out there.” She waved a hand toward the park. “So I called Ann. She and I are going to run the foothills behind her neighborhood. Kind of near that section of trail where we went goblin hunting a few weeks ago, remember?”
Recalling that very hunt, Bann didn’t answer. Instead, he finished his task, then closed the lid on the toolbox with a click and stood. Every molecule in his heart wanted to say no. His head told him to keep his yap shut. He opened his mouth anyway.
“Shay, I don’t think—”
“Yeah, we’ve already established that. And this over-protective habit of yours, although it’s a sweet one, isn’t going to cut it.”
“It’s not only dangerous with what happened yesterday and this morning, but what about those Amandán roaming about?” he said, calling the goblins by their ancient name. “I believe you told me those beas-ties have been active.” She cannot argue with that.
Apparently, she could. “So what? We’re not going to live our lives cowering behind those.” She flicked her fingers at the fence. “Look, as you once said, we’re Tuatha Dé Danaan. We tell Fate ‘screw you’ or something like that.”
“Still, perhaps I should accompany you—”
Shay’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and tapped the screen. “Hi, Hugh. What’s up? Yeah, he’s standing right here. Let me put you on speaker.” Another tap, then she held the phone between them. “Okay, we’re both listening.”
Hugh’s disembodied voice rose from her hand. “Three more Tullys are missing. And you can imagine what Weston Tully is saying about it.”
Turning Shay and himself so that their backs were to Cor, Bann spoke in a low voice as he told Hugh what had happened this morning. “Tully might want to search the Garden,” he added. “Most likely, Cernunnos has slaughtered them, too.”
“Why is he killing just the Tully clan members?” Hugh mused.
Shay glanced over at the boy and pup at the other end of the yard, engaged in a chew-the-laces-on-Cor’s-shoes game, then held the phone closer to her mouth. “Maybe there’s enough of Max that is still in control and he’s protecting us the only way he knows how?”
“Perhaps,” Hugh said. “But then, why did the beast test your wards earlier? Even so, Tully will use these latest attacks as yet another justification to start a war.”
“Like he needs one,” Shay said. “Well, I’ll see you in a little bit. Ann and I are going for a run.”
“Shay, we haven’t yet—” Bann began.
“I told Ann I’d rather she not—” Hugh said at the same time.
“Oops.” Shay thumbed the screen and cancelled the call with a grin. “My bad.”
Driving along, Bann glanced over at Shay sitting in the truck’s passenger seat. Still dressed in her workout clothes, she was slathering lotion on her face and neck. The aroma of SPF 45 sunscreen filled the cab. “Shay, darlin’…”
“Don’t even go there.” She dropped the bottle into the cup holder. “You’re just using this as an excuse to be nearby. Just in case.”
“But I had promised Hugh to help haul away those burnt timbers,” he said, turning into the clan leaders’ driveway. He halted by the gatepost and powered down his window, then reached out and punched in the code in a series of beeps that always reminded him of a science fiction movie from the 1970s. “I am merely keeping my word.”
“So, it’s only coincidence that you and Hugh decided to do it now.”
“Simply that.”
“Yeah, right.”
They rolled along the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires; in the back seat, Cor was already snapping the leash onto Sam’s harness. As they pulled over to one side of the parking area, Shay spoke over her shoulder. “Cor, keep a close eye on Sam. Make sure he doesn’t pee in the house, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Unbuckling his own belt, Cor clambered down, then lifted the puppy out and set him on the ground. “C’mon, Sammy!”
Boy and pup raced each other to the house, Shay following. Meanwhile, Bann checked to make sure the iron blade was secure in its sheath on his hip, then unloaded his toolbox from the bed of the truck with a grunt. Grabbing an ax he had borrowed from Shay, he headed toward the porch as the front door swung open.
Armed and dressed similarly to Shay, but with a more subdued dark blue running jacket, Ann stepped out onto the porch. “My two favorite boys,” she said with a pat on the head for both Cor and Sam. “Go back to the kitchen.” She stepped aside as they pushed past, then quirked an eyebrow at Bann. “You’re as bad as Hugh.”
“Worse,” Shay said before Bann could speak.
They walked through to the kitchen and continued out the back door. Hugh was already sifting through the pile of charred lumber while Cor showed Sam around the yard. Bann saw that the older Knight had his toolbox nearby as well. He walked over and joined him.
“Bann,” Hugh said, by way of greeting.
“Hugh.” Keeping his back toward Shay, Bann set the metal box on the ground. “All ready?” he muttered.
“Aye.” Bann turned to watch the women chatting together as they stretched for a few minutes. Limber, they are. Then, with twin nods of farewell, they headed toward the gate.
Ann opened it and waved Shay through. “We’ll be back in about forty-five minutes, Hugh, my love. We’re taking the trail that loops up to the top of the ridge. ’Bye.” She pulled the gate closed behind her, the latch rattling as it dropped into place.
Bann waited until the sound of their voices, punctuated with the snap-crunch of dried vegetation, faded away, then called Cor. “Son, come here and bring Sam with you.”
“Why?” Even as he asked, the boy came trotting over, his puppy at his heels.
“Because you are going to wait in the house until James gets here.” Bann opened his toolbox and withdrew a second blade, this one of bronze. Meanwhile, Hugh was pulling a hatchet out from under one of the burnt boards; the older Knight was already armed, as was his custom, with his favorite hunting knife.
“Which should be any minute,” Hugh added, then grinned at the sound of James’s voice calling from the house.
A moment later, a young man appeared at the back door, his hair a darker red than most of the Doyle clan. “They’re going to be so pissed if they find out you guys are following them.” He sauntered over to them.
“Good to see you again, Jameson Doyle.” Bann could never remember if James was Shay’s first or second cousin. He clasped the younger Knight’s forearm, recalling Shay mentioning that James was not only the best-looking of her cousins, but one of the brightest, to boot. And a damn fine warrior. “Thank you for this.” He nodded toward Cor.
“No worries. Cor, what do you say to helping me knock back some chocolate milkshakes while we watch the game?” He grinned at the whoop of joy, then stepped to one side as the boy raced past him to the house. Sam paused to sniff at the stranger’s shoe before trailing his friend inside. “Good luck,” James added meaningfully, then followed.
We’re going to need it, Bann thought, jogging after Hugh, who was already hurrying toward the gate. The Goddess help us both if our women find out what we are doing.