EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Bann stood in front of the toilet, half-asleep and eyelids parted just enough to aim, relieving himself as quietly as he could. His painful bladder and pounding head reminded him how much he had had to drink last night. After flushing, he eased the bathroom door open.
The bed was empty.
My morning bird, he thought. He pulled on a pair of sweats, sans underwear, and a T-shirt, then headed down the hall, his bare feet shushing on the wooden floor. Pausing at Cor’s room, he poked his head around the half-open door. A whiffling sound came from the mound of covers on the bed. Only a mop of dark hair poked out. Late night for all of us. Bann started to pull the door shut when a soft whimper from the crate caught his attention. He peered over. In the muted light of dawn, he could just make out Sam. The puppy was sprawled on his bedding, paws twitching as he harried dream rabbits into their burrows. With his breeding, Bann thought, we should have named him Cú—the Hound. He eased the door closed. The smell of fresh brewed coffee tugged him along by the nose toward the great room.
“You’re up early.” Shay was curled up on one end of the sofa. Already dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she had a throw tucked around her feet and a steaming mug cupped in her hands. The epitome of contentment. Her hair, still free of its customary ponytail, was draped over her shoulders and her face was slumber-soft. “I thought you’d sleep in.”
“My bladder had other plans. You wouldn’t have some slàinte tea brewed this morning, by the way? That special kind?”
“Already left a cup of it cooling for you on the counter. Drink it all at once. Headache?”
“How did you know?”
“Check the level in the whiskey bottle.”
“There was some left?” He was quite certain he’d accounted for most of it during dinner.
After chugging the brew, Bann waited a few moments, then sighed in relief as the bodhran that had been pounding out a rhythm in his head faded. He poured a cup of coffee. Taking that all-important first sip, he lingered by the sink in his morning ritual and gazed out the window.
Fog surrounded the house, the underbelly of a low-lying cloudbank shoved up against the foothills. The rock formations on the other side of the back fence were dirty ghosts in the mist. Snow later, I’ll warrant. He topped off his cup, wandered back to the living room, and took a stand by the fireplace. “Looks like autumn has finally surrendered.” He sipped again, then placed the mug on the mantel. Stretching, he arched his back until his spine gave off a satisfying pop.
Shay eyed him. “You should do yoga.”
“We could do it together.”
“Yoga.”
“Sure. I used to go to a co-ed class at the downtown Y. It’ll help keep you limber.”
“Yoga.”
“Yes, yoga. And repeating it over and over with that look on your face is not going to make me stop.”
“What look is that?”
“The look that screams ‘hell will have frozen over enough for the Frost Giants to vacation there before you will find me twisted into a position that resembles a Celtic knot.’”
“You’re mixing your mythologies, you know.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Oh, never mind.”
Victory, he thought, careful to keep his expression bland.
The sound of a door opening. From Bann’s position, he saw Cor shuffle across the hall, Sam on his heels. They disappeared into the bathroom. A few moments later, Sam reappeared. He trotted toward them, tail wagging and claws clicking on the bare floor. After a stop for a pat and a scratch from Bann, he headed over to Shay and tried to crawl up on the sofa, front paws scrabbling for purchase.
“You think being cute means you should be allowed on the furniture, don’t you?” She ruffled his ears. Sam whined, as if agreeing with her about both the cuteness and about being allowed on the sofa.
Yawning, Cor joined them. Dressed in T-shirt, jeans, and shoes, he had one arm already stuck inside his new winter jacket that Bann always thought made his son look like a puffy blueberry. “C’mon, Sammy. Pee time.”
“I’ll go with you.” Shay flipped the throw to one side. “I want to see what the weather gods have in store for us today. Man, I miss the days when I could go for a run in the Garden without worrying about all the crazies.” She bent over and fished her running shoes out from under the coffee table.
Enjoying the view, Bann pictured a different form of exercise he would rather do. “Not prudent at this time.”
“I know.” She straightened and pulled on her shoes. “Maybe later we could work out in the back yard. Do a little hand-to-hand sparring if the snow holds off?” she said, tying the laces. “Or even if it doesn’t.”
“Sparring? You and I?” He spread his arms wide, making sure to flex his chest muscles. “A bit of a mismatch, wouldn’t you say?”
“Nah, I’ll go easy on you.” With a grin, she shooed Cor and Sam ahead of her. She snagged her fleece from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and pulled it on as she followed the boys outside. Morning air drifted in—even from the living room, Bann felt its cold kiss. The glass door rolled closed with a thump.
“It will be the first time.” Shaking his head, he started toward the kitchen for more coffee. A small, dark object on the floor at the end of the hallway caught his eye. “Oh, shite.” Literally. Snagging some paper towels, he walked back and picked up the errant poop Sam had left in his rush to follow Cor. Bann spied a second one just outside Cor’s door. After picking that one up as well, he checked the kennel. Another pile of stools sat in one corner of the crate. Lovely way to begin my day, he grumbled to himself, cleaning the mess and Sam’s bedding.
Holding the wad of paper towels away from himself, he headed back to the kitchen and wrapped the mess tightly in a plastic bag before tossing it away. I should’ve made Cor clean up after his dog, he thought, five minutes too late. And why are they still outside on such a chilly morning? Leaning over the sink, he looked out the window.
The back gate stood open, silently screaming at the empty yard.
An invisible fist socked Bann in the gut so hard he actually rocked back on his heels. Taking two long strides, he wrenched the door open with a bang and bolted out, whacking a shoulder against the frame in his desperate sprint and almost knocking the glass panel off its track. He ran across the yard, heedless of the bite of gravel under his bare feet, and cursing with every stride. He skidded to a halt at the gate. Choose the right direction, ye bastard. A tiny part of his mind—the hunter part—told him to get his head out of his arse and look down.
As if to confuse him, a jumble of fresh footprints shot off in all directions. There was no sign of small boy print among any of them. He started after what looked like the newest ones. What kind of fokke-up are you? The voice screamed inside his skull. To let your family get taken. And how the hell did anything get past the wards?
He winced when rocks cut his feet. Stop. Think. If they wanted Shay and Cor dead, you’d be looking at bodies, not prints. He clung to that hope to keep from going insane.
Not going after them almost made his knees buckle. He ran back to the house anyway. I’ll need help. Without breaking stride, he scooped Shay’s cell off the island counter as he dashed past it and hurried down the hall. Dressing one-handed, he fumbled with the phone, cursing his labor-thickened fingers when they scrolled past Hugh’s number twice before landing on it. He tapped the number and waited, stomping his feet into his boots as he stared at the screen.
No answer. Bann left a message, tried Ann’s, and got the same result. He tried their land line next. He recalled asking Shay why they still had one.
“Because there’s still enough older Knights around who don’t have cell phones or cannot afford them,” she had explained. After the twentieth ring, he slammed it down.
Sweat breaking out on his face and back, he started to search for James’s number when another name jumped out at him. He punched the entry, arming himself with a bronze blade as he waited; his iron weapon was already in its sheath on his hip. Just as he was ready to give up—because he could not bear another second of standing around while Shay and Cor were in the hands of someone or something that was going to use them to hurt him in the worst way possible—a voice answered.
Bann closed his eyes in relief before speaking. “It’s Boru,” he said in Gaelic. “I need your aid.”