The Stag Lord

by Darby Kaye

  In spite of everything, he barked a laugh.

  Climbing the stairs, Bann could smell the aroma of roasted chicken mingled with the bread-y scent of baked potatoes. His stomach growled. I’m half-tempted to simply leave a covered plate outside the bathroom door and call it good for the night. He walked through Cor’s bedroom and tried the knob on the bathroom door. Locked. “Cor? Supper is ready.”

  A sniff.

  “Unlock the door, son.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Well, I am. “What’s wrong, lad?”

  “It was my fault. Max died because of me. And now…”

  You are your father’s son. “No, it was not. And if you come out, Shay will explain it to you, using the rather descriptive word suckage.” A faint snort of laughter. Bann continued. “And we can sup on chicken and potatoes while we listen to her.”

  Click. The door opened. Cor stepped out, eyes red-rimmed and skin blotchy. “Do you think anyone can tell I’ve been crying?”

  “No, of course not,” he lied. “But wash your face. With cold water. You’ve, um, a bit of muck on it.”

  They headed to the main level. The sound of voices and the clink of silverware on china called to them from the kitchen. Two empty chairs awaited them. Bann nudged Cor next to Shay, then took his own place on the other side of his son. A platter of roasted chicken breasts, seasoned with herbs, was passed around, followed by serving dishes loaded with new potatoes baked to a golden brown, and asparagus sautéed in olive oil.

  “Ann, this is a fine meal.” Bann said. “Why, I’m tempted to steal you from Hugh and marry you.” He blinked in surprise when the husband and wife laughed, then high-fived each other across the table.

  “You don’t want to know,” Shay said. “Trust me.” For some reason, she shuddered, then passed the vegetable platter to Cor.

  “I don’t like asparagus.” Using two hands, Cor passed the dish back.

  Before Bann could speak, Shay took control. “Tough. Ann took time to prepare this delicious meal for us, and you’ll be polite and have some. Plus, it’s good for you.”

  Cor sat holding the bowl in midair. His jaw muscles danced.

  “And if the words ‘you are not the boss of me’ or ‘you can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my father’ come out of your mouth, Cormac Boru,” Bann added, spooning a potato onto his own plate, “you will find yourself having to stand to finish your supper.”

  Cheeks flaming, Cor set the bowl down, selected the smallest spear he could find, and placed it on the very edge of his plate, afraid of contaminating the rest of his meal with the loathsome vegetable. He scowled up at Shay when she stabbed two more with her fork and plunked them on his plate. “Hey! I didn’t say I wanted—”

  She promptly snagged another one and added it to the pile.

  “No! Shay, stop—”

  Another spear joined the others on Cor’s plate.

  Wiping his lips with his napkin to hide a smile, Bann peeked out of the corner of his eye at Shay. She grinned back at him over the boy’s head while Cor sat fuming so hard, Bann was surprised smoke was not pouring from his son’s ears.

  He couldn’t resist adding fuel to the flame. “Ye might as well face it, boyo. Ye’re outnumbered. Two to one.”

  After supper, they gathered back in the living room. Bann and Shay claimed the sofa while Ann and James staked out overstuffed chairs flanking the fireplace, James pulling the coffee table out of the way and closer to his seat. On the table, he placed his notebook and a few sheets of printouts. Disdaining chairs, Rory settled on the raised hearth. Cor plunked down next to him. Bann noticed his son holding Max’s chew toy, turning it around and around as he talked in a low voice to Rory.

  Hugh walked in with a serving tray loaded with empty tumblers and a decanter filled with a familiar deep amber liquid; he set the tray on the coffee table next to James’s books. Unstoppering the bottle, he splashed a generous amount in each tumbler. After serving everyone, including a few drops for Cor, he took a stance in front of the fire and lifted his glass. Rising to their feet, the others pulled their weapons free and formed a circle, Rory nudging Cor to join them. Blades were held high in the air, the tips touching to form a tent of bronze and iron over their heads.

  “May the Goddess bless us with friends to welcome,” Hugh proclaimed. “Enemies to battle.” The Knights brought their blades together with a ringing clang. “And families to love,” he finished, with a special smile at Ann. The others clinked glasses and resumed their seats.

  Cor took a sip that barely wetted his tip of his tongue. To Bann’s surprise, he managed not to cough as the fumes exploded in his mouth and nose. Eyes watering, he grinned weakly and gave a thumbs-up to Hugh.

  “You’ve good taste, young Boru, but that’s all you’re getting until you’re older.” Hugh took the glass from the boy and emptied it into his own tumbler. “No sense in wasting it.” He took another taste, wiped his beard clean, then waved a hand at James. “Now that we’re primed, you may finish your grim story.”

  “Well, there’s not much more, but what’s left is, as Hugh said, rather grim. Cor and I did some research earlier.” He gestured toward the stack of papers in front of him. “I was pretty sure I remembered the legend correctly, but I wanted to verify the details.”

  “Geek,” Rory coughed into his fist.

  “Slacker,” James murmured absently as he shuffled through the pages. Selecting one, he laid the others aside. “So, as Cor told us earlier, a person can come back to life if they managed to swallow a drop of a god’s or goddess’ blood at the moment of death.”

  Shay leaned over to peer at the other printouts. “Like zombies?”

  James shook his head. “Zombies are part of mortals’ cosmology, not Fey. No, in this case, the person, or in Max’s case, the animal, is still the same creature, but now he or she also has a side of them that reflects the personality of the god or goddess whose blood they swallowed. If the Old One is creative and artistic, the person becomes so. If the god or goddess is skilled in battle, the person then becomes this amazing warrior, and so on and so on.” He raked his fingers through his cropped hair, before continuing. “And if the god is, you know, evil, then the person becomes…” He paused. “I’m sorry, little cousin.”

  “So, that would mean Max is like…” Shay’s voice faltered. With a muttered oath, she grabbed her glass and knocked back a slug of whiskey.

  Bann took her free hand and held it between the two of his. “We do not know that for certain.”

  “Really? Because he most likely just killed one of the Tullys. For no reason. Sounds a lot like a Cernunnos move to me.”

  “But why Thomas Tully?” Ann mused. The others looked at her. “Please forgive my bluntness, but if Max really is channeling the Stag Lord, why wouldn’t he have come after one of us?”

  More specifically, after me or Cor, Bann thought. His eyes flickered over to his son. Cor sat huddled on the hearth, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. His eyes, huge and dark in a pale face, darted from one adult to another. Bann’s heart wrenched when he noticed Cor holding Max’s chew toy in a white-knuckled clasp. “Come here, son.”

  Cor practically threw himself on the sofa, burrowing under his father’s arm on Bann’s free side; he could feel the boy’s heart thumping as he huddled closer.

  “He either tried and failed because of the wards,” Hugh mused. “Or his target was young Thomas.” He sighed and finished his drink. “Once again, we’re faced with more questions than answers. It’s getting late. For tonight, I suggest you all stay here as a precaution until we know more. Shay, I take it you don’t have your wards blessed and back up yet?”

  “Been a little busy.” She started to take another drink, saw the glass was empty, then set it down. “Well, I’ll get our stuff from the truck.” She shrugged at Ann’s look of surprise. “Yeah, we brought our things. Just in case. We seem to keep crashing at your place.”

  “We’ll fetch them.” Bann
stood up. “No, relax and have another drink, darlin’,” he added when Shay started to protest. “Come along, son.” As he left the room with Cor, he heard Ann whispering something and Shay telling her to shut up.

  After carrying the bags upstairs and ordering Cor to get ready for bed, Bann placed Shay’s pack just inside the door. He lingered, eyeing her bed. This is not the time, he chided himself. With a sigh, he started to turn away when Shay appeared at the end of the hall.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  She sauntered toward him. Something in her loose-hipped walk made him decide this was the time, after all.

  “And what would that be?”

  “That we’re in the middle of a dangerous situation. That we need to be focused and on our guard. And all distractions, no matter how tempting, should be avoided.”

  “Well, Shay Doyle, for the first time, you’re wrong.”

  “Oh, really? So, what were you thinking?”

  “‘Tis not something I can put in words.”

  “No?”

  “No. I’ll need to show you.”

  “And just when were you planning on showing me?”

  “Later. In your room. When others have gone to sleep.”

  “Ah, I see.” Shay closed in on him. “In the meantime, can I at least have a hint?”

  Bann smiled. “Let me see Cor to bed first. Then it will be our turn.”

  37

  “SHAY?”

  She looked up from rummaging in her pack. Bann stood in the doorway of her bedroom. Shoving the matching camisole and panties back into her bag, she straightened and tucked her hair behind an ear, certain her cheeks were the exact shade of rosy pink as the underwear now wadded up in the bag. She had scolded herself every time she had come across the silk lingerie in her drawer for wasting good money on something she would never wear. Until now. “Yes?”

  “Cor would like to say good night to you.”

  Inordinately pleased by the request, as if it were a boon a prince—now that I think about it, he is kind of a prince—was bestowing upon her, she practically skipped across the hall. She wondered how she could be filled with maternal affection for the boy and be turned on by the man, all at the same time. Is this what’s like being both a wife and mother? And aren’t you getting ahead of yourself here? He hasn’t said anything about the future. Just that there is a future. I think.

  Shoving those thoughts aside, she walked into Cor’s room. The lamp cast a soft light over the boy sitting up in bed, wearing an old but clean T-shirt and a faint look of shyness. We’re all trying to feel our way in this relationship, I guess. She hovered next to the bed, not sure. Cor solved the problem by scooting his legs over. She sat down on the edge of the mattress. Noticing a book of dog breeds on the nightstand, she nodded toward it.

  “Decided on what kind you want?”

  “I-I don’t think I want one anymore. At least, not right now.”

  Surprised, Shay glanced over at Bann standing nearby. He shook his head, looking as bewildered as she felt. “When did this happen?”

  Cor plucked at the comforter covering his lap. He shrugged. “I just… don’t.” He peeked up at her as if seeking forgiveness.

  I don’t blame him. I’m not ready, either. And this whole nightmare with Max just makes it worse. “Well, no rush—it’s a big decision, you know.”

  “Really? You won’t be mad or anything?”

  “Cor, I won’t lie to you. I’m still sad about Max and everything that’s happening. He didn’t deserve this.” Her throat tightened. She waited until it relented, then continued. “He-he was such a good dog.” Tears stung her eyes. Blinking fiercely, she almost lost it when Cor’s lips trembled.

  “I miss him.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Do you think he’s turned into something…bad?”

  Gods, I hope not. “I don’t know.” But all the evidence sure points that way. “I do know one thing, however.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That we—you, me, and your dad—will figure it out. And we’ll deal with whatever comes along. Because we’re a team now.”

  “Like the Avengers?”

  “Maybe more like the X-Men.”

  “Or the Three Musketeers,” Bann offered.

  Cor snorted. “Dad, that’s a candy bar.”

  “What. Evah,” Bann said in a near-perfect streetwise accent.

  Cor chuckled, his sudden grin lighting up the room. Do all children glow? Shay wondered to herself. She patted his knee and stood up. “‘Night, kiddo.”

  Bann leaned over and butted foreheads with Cor. He murmured a soft codladh sumh, then waited until Cor rolled over and burrowed deeper under the covers before clicking off the lamp.

  Stepping out into the hallway, Shay waited until Bann had closed the door before whispering. “Just so you know, he is possibly the most awesome kid in the freakin’ universe.”

  “A wee bit fond of him, are ye?” A corner of Bann’s mouth quirked. He took both her hands in his and walked backwards, tugging her to the far side of the hallway. Leaning against the wall, he pulled her into his arms.

  “Aye. About as fond of him as I am of his father.”

  “That pathetic sod?”

  “Excuse me! Are you questioning my taste in men?” Her heart skipped a beat when Bann’s eyelids drooped in that half-predatory, half-let’s-get-naked-now gaze that always made her right thigh break out in goose bumps. Not the left thigh. Nope. Right thigh. Goosebumps. A sure sign.

  “And just what would ye know about tasting men?”

  She leaned forward to show just how much she knew when the thump of approaching feet and the murmur of voices interrupted her. They pulled apart.

  “We’ll pick this up shortly.” Shay gave him a fleeting kiss and scooted into her room. Leaving the door ajar, she clicked on the bedside lamp and spent a few minutes unpacking her toiletries in the bathroom.

  As she bustled about, voices called good-nights up and down the hall. Doors closed. The hallway light turned off. Faintly, she could hear James and Rory talking about the evening’s events until one of them shut the door to their room. Quiet filled the house, except for the scarcely heard hum of the furnace kicking on in the depths of the basement as the night grew colder.

  Pulling the silk underwear out of her bag, she ran the fabric through her fingers. It felt like melting ice cream, cool and smooth. She blew out a long breath, the conflicting emotions making her wish she could go for a long, hard, sweaty run, just to get her head on straight. How can I be thinking about sex when the ship from Planet Crap has just dumped its payload on us?

  A whisper of movement. A single strand of hair tickled her chin from the displacement of air in the room. Snick. Her door closed.

  Then arms slipped around her, the hands square and blunt and lightly marked with old scars. Runes upon the skin. “An odd thing with us, is it not?” Bann’s breath warmed the side of her neck.

  Liquid fire filled her, low in her belly. Damn, his brogue alone slays me. “What is?”

  “That our bodies would want this.” He pressed his swelling manhood against her, shifting his hips to nestle it more firmly between her buttocks. An impressive act when they both were wearing jeans. “Even as these trials press upon us.”

  She turned in his arms. His eyes were already a midnight blue with desire. “Why do you think that is?”

  “‘Tis who we are. Tuatha Dé Danaan. Celts. Warriors of a race so ancient, our long-fathers spoke face to face with the Goddess Herself. We fight and we fuck and we protect our own. And even as we fall to our knees in battle, we give the back of our hand to Fate.” A line deepened between his brows. “Something I had forgotten this past year.”

  “Hey.” Shay cupped his jaw with her hand. “Don’t go there. It’s going to work out. Like I told Cor, we’re a team.”

  “That we are, Shay Doyle. And my first directive as leader—”

  “Why are you the leader?”

  He
raised an eyebrow. “Because I am the man.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “‘Tis the natural order of things.” The corner of Bann’s mouth twitched.

  “And still more bullshit.” Shay fought her own smile. “So. Just out of curiosity, what’s your first order?”

  Bann stepped back. Glancing over to make sure the door was closed, he gestured toward the silk material she held, forgotten, in one hand. “To see you. In that.”

  She glanced down. Heat flooded her body. Her joints suddenly felt loose. “Give me a moment.” On legs that trembled only a little, she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

  38

  AS THE DOOR SHUT, Bann reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out several small, flat packets. The plastic wrappers crackled as he placed the condoms on the nightstand next to the bed. He grinned at the memory of stopping by the local convenience store during a rare solitary errand last week. When he had approached the cashier with a box of Trojans in hand, the young clerk, full of the attitude of late teenhood, had smirked at him. Which, in turn, forced Bann to begin a friendly conversation about the merits of ribbed versus plain. All the while using his thickest, most lilting brogue chock full of Irish colloquialisms.

  He had started to unbutton his shirt when the bathroom door opened. His fingers forgot how to function when all the blood in his body suddenly went south.

  Shay stood in the doorway. The camisole hugged her body, emphasizing the curves of her arm muscles, the dip of her waist. The swell of her breasts. His eyes drifted lower to the barely-there-but-who-really-cares matching panties. Her long legs looked even longer.

  The deep rose color of the silk fabric made her skin glow. Her thick hair, burnished gold in the light of the lamp, was draped over one shoulder. She moved toward him, causing his heart to start rapping against his ribs, as if asking if it might come out and take a peek, too.

  “Dad?” A searching voice called from the hallway. Feet padded along the corridor, then faded away toward the stairs.