27

GUIDING A WOBBLY COR 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.

Cor was curled in a ball in the middle of the bed, whuffling faintly. On the far side of him, Max lay flat, a doggy throw rug. One eye opened. A thump of a tail, then the eye closed.

Bann gazed down at his son. Setting his boots to one side without a sound, he eased down on the bed and curled his body around Cor’s. I’ll just rest for a moment.

He woke to a shadowy dusk and a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s me.” Shay whispered in his ear. A dip of the mattress and she curled up behind him, sandwiching him between his still-sleeping son and her body. “You know, if we try to squeeze one more on this bed, we’ll have to kick the dog off.” A thump of a tail indicated that Max had heard but clearly didn’t believe it.

Bann yawned. “What time is it?”

“Half past happy hour. All the grown-ups are down in the living room, enjoying some of Hugh’s private stock. He sent me to fetch you. Plus, Cor shouldn’t sleep anymore or he’ll be up all night.”

“I’m already up,” Cor complained, voice hoarse with slumber. “We need a bigger bed—Max keeps hitting me in the face with his tail.”

Shay chuckled, then stretched over Bann, crowding him to press the back of her fingers against Cor’s cheek. “Better. I think he just needed a little … rest.” He noticed she adroitly avoided the word nap.

The feel of her body pressing down on his sent a thrill through Bann. Before he could move, she gave him a wicked grin, then rolled off the bed. She whistled for Max and left. The promise of Shay’s company and high-end whiskey had him following a minute later, after ordering Cor to tidy up before joining them.

Entering the living room he hadn’t had time to notice before, Bann looked about. The area was decorated in a style that continued the whole Colorado mountain-lodge theme of the rest of the house. Massive leather furniture and aspen-log tables, all with wrought-iron details, completed the look. The room was dominated by the fireplace, its stones the size of soccer balls or bigger. A fire danced, flaring now and again from gusts of wind that sneaked down the flue when no one was aware. Overhead, the oak timbers glowed with an amber hue in the light of the fire.

Overstuffed chairs and a generous sofa sat in a semicircle around the hearth. While Hugh stood with his back to the flames, a glass in one hand, Ann was enthroned nearby in a tufted leather wingback. Rory sprawled on his back on an oriental rug that probably cost more than Bann’s truck, his feet propped on the hearth and a tumbler balanced on his chest. James lounged in the other chair. Curled up in the corner of the sofa with legs tucked beneath her, Shay was talking in a low voice with Ann.

Joining Hugh, Bann accepted a drink with a nod, clinked glasses with his host, then took a sip. His sinuses filled with the favor and aroma of Éireann. He sipped again. “Glenlivet?”

“Tyrconnell.”

“A fine taste of home.” Stepping over Rory, he took a seat on the other end of the sofa.

“So, Bann.” Hugh began. “Whilst you spent the afternoon catching up on your beauty sleep—”

“Which didn’t do you any good, by the way,” Rory said. Bann booted him in the ribs. The young Knight just laughed.

“—the boyos and I continued to search—” Hugh tried again.

“Boyos, my ass,” James interrupted. “I continued. You and Rory watched the Broncos.”

The phone rang. Ann started to rise, then sat back when Shay motioned at her. “I’ll get it.” She disappeared into the kitchen, passing Cor and Max as they walked in. The boy wandered over to the fireplace and plopped down on the hearth, laughing when the dog began licking Rory’s chin, eager for a sip of the good stuff.

Shay returned. At the look on her face, Bann rose. “What’s wrong?”

She held out the phone to Hugh. “It’s Weston Tully. Quinn’s missing. No one has seen him since yesterday evening.”

“Good,” James said. “Saves us the trouble.”

“Tully?” Hugh signaled for quiet as he spoke into the phone. “What do you mean—” A long pause. “No, not since the episode at Shay’s. But we think he might be—” He blinked in surprise. “He rang off.”

“Not surprising that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with our bunch after Bann beat the crap out of Quinn,” Rory said. “He must have been some kind of desperate to call us.”

As the family debated the missing Knight’s whereabouts, Bann walked over to the wide bank of windows. He gazed out; the city’s lights illuminated the underbelly of the clouds, making the sky look upside down.

As he stood there, a realization swept over him. ‘Tis time. My time.

Shay joined him. “Quinn’s dead, isn’t he?” She brushed her arm along his.

“They’ll be lucky to find his body.” Bann thought for a moment, then leaned closer. “I’ve come to a decision, and I need your help. I’ll not let that creature take Cor, nor will I allow him to kill any more of our people.”

“You’re going after Cernunnos, aren’t you? That’s what you were trying to do with that challenge earlier, right?”

“I would have done so months ago, but I had Cor to think of. Now…” He looked over at his son in a three-way wrestling match with Rory and Max. “I would sacrifice anything to give him the chance at a normal life.”

“Even your own?”

“Even so.”

“You know what that would do to him.”

“Aye. But I cannot see another way to end this. As you said, we cannot keep running forever.” He took both her hands in his. “I have no right to ask this of you, but would you… Would you be willing…”

“You know I would. No matter what happens, Cor will have a home and family with us. But you’re not going after that nut case by yourself.”

“Shay, I cannot—”

“The lass is right.”

Bann turned, his hands still clasping Shay’s. Hugh stood a few feet away, the rest of the Knights flanking him. In the midst of the clan, Cor stood with Rory’s arm draped around his neck.

“You’ll not go alone, Bannerman Boru,” Hugh said. “The Stag Lord will most likely be guarded by that pack of Fir Bolgs. Which will make our task fairly simple—we find the Fir Bolgs and we’ve found Cernunnos.”

He tried again. “I’ll not endanger any more—”

“Nor will I. Stealth and speed, not numbers. This lot”—Hugh waved a hand around at the others—“is enough to hunt down one shapeshifter.”

Sudden warmth swelled Bann’s chest. It took him a minute to recognize it as hope. A rare, fine thing, he thought, gazing at the faces determined to fight for him, and more importantly, for his son. Perhaps the greatest gift one can give another. “I do not know what to say.”

“Why, the only thing you should say.” Ann grinned. “Faugh a ballagh!” Her voice rose to a shout.

The warmth in Bann’s chest flared into a fire. The timbers echoed as the others took up the ancient war cry, Cor shouting along with the rest. Even Max pointed his muzzle skyward and howled along.

“Faugh a ballagh!”