Rafe’s black eyes grew wide. “I can see why you go by Finn,” he said, then winced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Finn laughed. “It’s okay.”
“Hey, doofus! You forgot this.” A girl, a few inches shorter and with Rafe’s lanky build and ebony skin, walked toward them, her shoulder-length black curls pulled back with a headband. She carried an empty pizza box in one hand. Flipping open the container, she tossed it in. “Hi,” she said, noticing Finn for the first time.
“Uh, this is my little sister, Savannah. Savannah, this is Finn MacCullen. He just moved here.”
“Hey, Finn.” She smiled, the dimples in her cheeks matching her brother’s. “And I’ve told you to stop introducing me as your little sister,” she added as she punched Rafe in the arm. “You’ve got like, what, six minutes on me?”
“Let me guess—twins?” Finn looked from one to the other.
“Yeah. Twins.” Rafe made a face. “Why couldn’t she have been a brother?”
Finn grinned at Savannah’s chuff of exasperation. “So, why haven’t I seen you two around before?”
“Oh, we go to South Africa every year for a few weeks. As soon as school’s out. To visit our grandfather,” Savannah said. “We just got back yesterday evening. In fact, we’re still unpacking our—”
“Finnegan?”
All three looked over as Gideon strolled across the yard toward them. Pausing at the end of the path, he nodded politely at the Steel children.
“Good morning.” He opened the gate wider. “Come, lad,” he called.
Finn’s face burned at his master’s tone. And choice of words. Dude, I’m nota dog! “I’ve gotta go.”
Rafe grinned in understanding. “Later, Finn.” He waved a hand and headed up the driveway, his sister on his heels.
Finn whirled around. “Why did you have to embarrass me like that?” he grumbled as he stomped home and handed the paper over. “I was just talking to them.” He yanked the gate shut with a clang before following his master up the porch steps.
“Well, I’d rather ye not,” Gideon said over his shoulder. “Relationships with mortals cause nothing but complications for our kind.” He opened the screen and went in.
Finn paused, one foot on the lowest step. He glanced back across the street. “Says you.”
Twelve
Pulling the bronze wire tight, Finn wrapped another strand around the gatepost, then twisted the ends together with a pair of pliers. The reddish metal twined around the bars like the stripes on a candy cane. This should slow the Amandán down. Taking a break, he gave a nod of satisfaction as he straightened up and pulled his sweaty tee away from his body.
“What’s all that for?”
He spun around. Rafe was walking toward him holding a soda pop can in one hand. Reaching behind, Finn yanked his shirt down over his sheathed knife.
“Just something to keep out…you know, animals.” He grinned, pleased to see the other boy again after only a few days.
Rafe took a sip, then nodded. “Mom tried aluminum foil once, but the rabbits still did a smackdown on her geraniums.” He ran a finger along the wire. “Is this copper?”
“Bronze.” Finn wiped his face on a sleeve.
“Here.” Rafe held out the can. “Want some?”
“Oh, thanks.” Finn drank gratefully, then handed it back. They both laughed when he burped. “Sorry.”
“You should be. That was totally lame. Here, listen to this.” Rafe chugged the rest of the can, then let loose a drawn-out rumble.
They laughed again, Rafe pinching his nose to keep soda from spraying. As the boy held his arm up, Finn’s eyes widened with curiosity.
“Hey, what’s that?”
“What—this?” A slender bracelet, woven of coarse black hairs intermingled with tawny ones, encircled Rafe’s wrist. The ends were tied together with leather thongs. “Oh, this is from a ceremony I did with my grandfather. In South Africa. It’s made from real lion’s hair. From the tip of its tail.”
Finn peered more closely. “What kind of ceremony?”
“Like an initiation. First step into manhood, and all that. They used to have the teenage boys of the tribe kill a real lion to demonstrate their bravery. Nowadays, we just spend the night in the bush by ourselves with nothing but a campfire and a spear. Grandfather said it was still a test of bravery. So, I did this summer while I was there. And he gave me this afterwards.”
Like the tore we earn when we bag our first: Amandán, Finn thought. “Was it scary? Or just boring?”
Rafe hesitated for a moment. “Okay, don’t laugh, but I almost pissed myself when a herd of antelope wandered by in the middle of the night. They were making all this noise in the bush on their way to the watering hole. I couldn’t see them. All I heard was this loud breathing and snorting and branches breaking.” He fingered the bracelet. “But I stuck it out. I must have fallen asleep under that tree, because the next thing I knew, it was getting lighter and birds were squawking. And then I watched the sun rise over the savanna.” He looked up at Finn. “It made me feel…” His voice trailed off.
“Made you feel like you were part of something. Something really old, but really powerful.”
“Yeah.”
They looked at each other. An unspoken recognition passed between them. With a grin, Rafe gestured toward his house.
“Hey, do you want to see my African stuff? I got to bring back the spear and even a shield.” He snorted. “After we filled out about a million forms and promised not to hijack the plane with them.”
Finn glanced at his empty driveway. Gideon won’t be back for awhile, he thought. I’ll just: stay a few minutes. “Sure. But then, I’ve got to finish up here.” Leaving the pliers and the coil of wire by the gate, Finn followed Rafe across the street.
The boys hurried up the walk toward the tall brick house and through its front door. Finn eyed the stylish foyer, complete with an antique entryway table and gleaming marble floor. It’s sure fancier than ours. Must be nice to have a lot of money.
“Rafe?” called a woman’s voice. A tall, dark-skinned woman, her face elegant with high cheekbones, appeared. She pulled on a white lab coat as she approached, heels clicking in a rapid staccato. “I’m needed at the hospital and your father ran to the hardware store, so I want you to—” She stopped, noticing Finn.
“Mom, this is Finn MacCullen. He moved here while we were gone. I was going to show him the stuff I brought back.”
“Hello, Finn. I’m Susanna Steel,” Mrs. Steel introduced herself, her smile warm. “Welcome to the neighborhood. Rafe will be thrilled to have another boy around.” She picked up her purse from the table and began rummaging for car keys. “Which house is yours?”
“The small green one with the stone wall around it. Kind of across from here.”
Mrs. Steel paused in her search. “Gideon Lir’s house?” A faint line appeared between her eyebrows.
Finn nodded. “He’s my guardian. Do you know him?”
“We’ve spoken a few times.” She studied him intently for a moment, then her face relaxed. “And how do you like Colorado, so far?”
“Oh, I’m from Denver. I used to live with my aunt and uncle up there.” Finn shifted from foot to foot. An odd reluctance to give more details crept over him.
“Would you mind me asking what happened to your parents?”
“They died when I was five. In a hunting accident.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Finn.” Mrs. Steel tilted her head to one side. “And so, now you live with Mr. Lir? Not your aunt and uncle anymore?”
“Mom!” Rafe rolled his eyes. “What’s with the third degree?”
“No, it’s okay.” Finn glanced over at Rafe, then back to his mom. “Um, Gideon is an old friend of our family. Plus, my aunt and uncle have nine other kids, so this just worked out better. And I am learning a ton of stuff from him.” Finn grinned. Stuff like how to peg a monster between the eyes with a hunting knife.
&nbs
p; Mrs. Steel smiled back. Glancing at her watch, she sighed. “Okay, I’m off. Rafe, fifteen minutes with Finn, then you need to get the backyard mowed and your bag unpacked. Your dad will be back shortly. Finn, I hope to see you again soon.” She hurried out the door.
Rafe shook his head. “Now that we’re through the security check with Dr. Steel, I’ll show you my spear.” He led the way along the hall and up a curving flight of stairs. Reaching the top, they hooked a right into the first bedroom. Rafe shoved a partially unpacked duffle bag out of their way.
“That’s it.” He pointed at the spear resting on the desk. Nearby, an oval shield, a little shorter than the boys, leaned against the wall. Rafe rapped his knuckles against the black and white hardened cow leather. “My dad went to get some hooks so I can hang them on the wall.”
Finn picked up the spear. The thick wooden handle was decorated with bands of ornamental beads in crayon-bright colors. A broad, leaf-shaped blade was attached to the business end.
“It’s more for stabbing than throwing. That’s why it’s shorter than a regular spear,” Rafe explained. “Real ones wouldn’t have all that decoration. The handles would be plain.”
Finn thrust it in the air a few times. “Nice balance. Is it bronze?”
“Yeah. For some reason, my grandfather wanted me to have a bronze one instead of iron.”
As Finn laid it back down, he noticed a small telescope next to the window. “Is that yours?”
“Yeah. Well, my dad’s and mine—he’s a science teacher at the high school. There’s going to be an eclipse of the sun on July tenth and I thought I might get a special filter for this so I can watch without hurting my eyes. Of course, this event is only a partial, not an annular eclipse, which is more rare and…” He paused, and shot Finn a glance. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a self-conscious expression.
Finn frowned in confusion. “What?”
“Well, that I’m some kind of science geek.”
“What’s wrong with being interested in—” Finn stopped when a light flickered through the window and bounced against the far wall. He bent over and peered out as his master’s truck pulled into the driveway, the sun reflecting off its cracked windshield. “Gideon’s back. I better get home.” Sprinting out of the room, Finn pounded down the stairs, Rafe on his heels.
“Is he going to get mad because you didn’t finish the gate?” Rafe asked as he ran ahead and opened the front door. He held it wide as Finn bolted through it.
“Oh, yeah!” And for other reasons. “I’ll see you around,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Running across the street, he slowed in relief at the sight of the empty truck cab. He must have gone inside already, Finn thought, halting by the gate. Panting, he crouched down on the sidewalk and uncoiled a section of wire, the metal hot from the sun. Okay, look busy. He measured another length. As he reached for the wire cutters, a shadow fell across him.
Thirteen
Finn froze as bare knuckles rapped on his skull. This is so not good, he thought.
“Hmm, I hear nary an echo, so I’m going to assume ye’ve a brain in there.” Gideon stepped around him. “A brain that can follow simple directions. Directions such as, ‘finish this gate by noon. And do not fraternize with the humans next door.’”
“I am almost finished.” Finn rose to his feet and locked eyes with his master. “And anyway, they don’t live next door. They live across the street. And kind of over to the left. Totally different.”
Gideon’s brows drew together. “I’ll not have ye splitting hairs when I give ye an order to—”
At that moment, a dark form flew over them, stroking the air with its black wings. The crow cawed twice and disappeared behind the house as it sped toward the western hills.
Argument abandoned, Gideon whirled around and dashed along the side of the house, Finn on his heels. Together they ran across the backyard. Without breaking stride, the Knight pulled his knife out.
“Yer blade at the ready,” he ordered, then came to a halt as Finn slowed, fumbling behind him for his weapon. “And ye’re holding the bleedin’ thing wrong!” He jerked the weapon away and spun it around. “Handle forward, blade back, until ye go into battle,” he snapped, thrusting it back into the boy’s hand.
“Yes, sir.” Finn’s cheeks reddened as he tightened his grip. His sweat made the leather grip slippery.
Chanting the Song in low voices, they picked up speed again and ran toward the wall. Gideon leaped first, his foot lightly pushing off the top stones. Finn followed with a one-handed vault. He landed next to Gideon on a path running along the rim of the ravine.
In a steady jog, they followed the trail north for a few minutes before turning and plunging down one side of the ravine and up the other. They struck another hiking path winding westward through the woods. Bushy scrub oaks, mixed with the occasional pine tree, formed screens on either side of the trail.
They headed deeper into the woods. Finn glanced around him at every crunch of last year’s leaves and dead twigs. After a mile, Gideon halted and motioned for him to stop. The Knight cocked his head as he listened.
Finn peered up, craning his neck to search the cloudless sky, squinting into the midday sun. “There!” he cried, pointing toward the top of the next hill. A black X circled over a stand of pine trees.
Gideon ran a few steps, keeping his eyes locked on the crow “Quickly, before it …” He faltered, cursing under his breath as two more birds joined the first one.
“What’s wrong?” Finn asked.
“Not a lone one. There’s at least three Amandán.” Gideon turned and studied Finn for a moment, then shook his head and slid his weapon back into its sheath. “We best leave them for another day.”
Finn set his feet, a stubborn glint in his eyes. “Gideon, I can do this. I know I can.” He smiled crookedly. “I’ll even let you have two for yourself.”
“Oh, ye will, will ye?” He pulled out the knife again, examining the blade as he pondered. “Cocky little git.”
“Please, Gideon? I’ll do dishes all week. Every meal.”
“Ye already do dishes after every meal.”
“Yeah, but I won’t complain about it. I promise.”
The Knight gazed up at the crows still soaring in a three-way dance over the tree tops, then looked over at Finn.
Finn raised his chin and stared back. He stood as tall as he could and threw back his shoulders, trying to make himself look bigger.
Gideon quirked an eyebrow. “‘I am a bull of seven battles,’ eh?”
“You got that right. I mean, yes, sir.”
Without another word, they raced, side by side, after the birds.
His lungs burning, Finn wheezed for breath, stumbling backwards over a tree root as the Amandán lunged for him again. He hit the trunk of the massive Ponderosa pine with a shoulder and almost dropped the knife clutched in his hand. Sweat dripping down his face stung his eyes. He pressed his back against the rough bark, and sucked in another desperate breath. The stink of Amandán filled his nostrils and coated his tongue. With a silent curse, he stabbed at the goblin.
“Getting weary, little De Danaan?” it rasped in a mocking tone, as it scampered from side to side, trying to break through Finn’s defenses.
“Don’t let it flank ye,” Gideon warned, fighting nearby. His clothes were already dusted with the ashy remains of the first Amandán. With blinding speed, he feinted and parried, his blade a blur as the second goblin rushed at him. He drove off the beast and edged closer to Finn. “Keep yer knife up and moving.”
“‘Kay,” Finn gasped through a parched mouth. Long shadows stretched around them as the afternoon sun crept closer to the mountain tops. The muscles in his arms and legs screamed as he swung the knife at the Amandán. The goblin scrambled out of range, hooting in derision. Tears of frustration and exhaustion blurred Finn’s vision. With a half-groan, half-sob, he crumpled to one knee.
“Oh, no, ye don’t!” Gideon leaped
to Finn’s side. He reached down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt with one hand, hauling him upright. “On yer feet, boyo. The ground is no place for a warrior.”
They pressed further back against the tree, eyeing the Amandán huddled together a few yards away, speaking to each other in an undertone. Finn swiped at his grimy face, grateful the sweat camouflaged the few tears that had fallen. He looked up wearily as his master nudged him.
“‘Tis a pleasant day for a hunt, to be sure. But I dinna think it would go on this long.” Gideon smiled grimly, his black hair salted with ash. His face was streaked with goblin residue and sweat. He licked dry lips, then made a face at the taste and spat, one eye on the goblins. “And what would they be planning?”
“Gives us the runt for our supper,” one of the goblins suddenly growled at the Knight. “And we lets ye live.”
“Why, he wouldn’t be more than a mouthful. The boyo is naught but skin and bones,” Gideon pointed out. “I’ve a better barter. Ye leave now and I swear I’ll not kill ye.” He paused, then amended. “Until later.” In spite of his weariness, Finn snorted with laughter.
“Nar, what kinds of barter is that?”
“The Tuatha De Danaan kind.”
The Amandán glanced at each other, then charged. Standing shoulder to shoulder, master and apprentice slashed and stabbed, Gideon making two thrusts for each one of Finn’s. Gasping the Song between frantic gulps of air, Finn noticed Gideon chanting along with him. His clear tenor was supported by his master’s deeper, richer baritone.
Suddenly, a rush of energy surged through him, the blending of their voices giving him a second wind. As they sang, Gideon gestured with his knife. Finn nodded. Tightening his grip, he blinked the sweat from his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Faugh a ballagh!” they shouted in unison, and sprang forward. Surprised at the De Danaan’s fierce charge, the Amandán tripped over each other as they scrambled to flee. Too late.
Ash flew everywhere as the beasts exploded.
After drying his hair until he resembled a redheaded hedgehog, Finn wiped his neck and chest, then tossed the towel over the shower curtain rod. The minty-sweet fragrance of shampoo filled the bathroom. Hope I got it all—leftover Amandán is tough to wash out, he thought, smoothing his mop. I see why Gideon wears his so short—maybe I should get mine cut. He pinned his hair flat with both hands and stared in the mirror. “Nah, I don’t think so.” Grabbing a clean tee shirt off the counter, he pulled it on as Gideon called from downstairs.
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