Finn Finnegan

by Darby Karchut

  “Finn? Supper’s ready. And bring yer dirty clothes with ye.”

  Loping down the stairs, filthy jeans and tee wadded under one arm, Finn hurried through the house, pausing to toss the clothes onto the floor of the tiny laundry-half bath combo just off the kitchen. He closed his eyes and inhaled the aroma of hot grilled-cheese sandwiches as he slid into his place at the table.

  “Ye gods, I’m starving. I didn’t get lunch because—” He froze. His jaw dropped as he looked down. A thin crescent of gold rested on his empty plate. “Oh. Oh, wow,” he whispered, staring at the newly polished tore.

  Gideon turned from the sink, drying his hands. “Bring it here, and I’ll put it on ye.”

  With unsteady fingers, Finn reached out and picked it up. The overhead light glinted off the twisted wires forming the curved band. The two ends were finished with hammered orbs of golden metal. It’s not as heavy as I thought it would be, he thought as he rose to his feet and carried it over. It felt cool against his palms, still warm from the shower.

  The Knight took the tore and held it in both hands as he gazed down at Finn. “Now, in centuries gone, we’d be celebrating this day with song and a feast and many a boastful tale from older apprentices and Knights deep in their cups. But even without the vainglory trappings, ‘tis a wondrous moment.” He got down on one knee in front of Finn. ‘“I am the vigor of man,’” he quoted softly, then pulled the tore open just wide enough to slip it around the boy’s throat. He squeezed it, bringing the two ends close, but not quite touching. “Gle mhaith, lad. Wear it with honest pride. Not many apprentices earn the tore at such a young age.”

  “Really?” Finn tucked his chin, trying to view the neckpiece.

  “Truly. Now go admire yer beauty, then we’ll eat.”

  Tearing out of the kitchen, Finn dashed back to the half-bath. Clicking on the light, he leaned over the sink, his breath fogging the mirror as he adjusted the band. “Gideon!” he yelled over a shoulder. “What about when I shower?” He jumped when the Knight appeared behind him.

  “‘Tis pure gold. Water can’t harm it. Ye might want to remove it to sleep, however.”

  “No way. I’m never taking it off.” Finn grinned up at his master in the mirror.

  Gideon smiled back.

  The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: June 19

  I did it!!! I bagged my first Amandán!!! Got my tore and everything. Still got it on.

  I didn’t think I was going to—they’re hard to kill. And the fight seemed to go on forever. I hope Gideon didn’t notice how scared I was. But then we charged them together and BAM! My knife went in!

  Gideon is a freaking machine when he fights!!! He never gets tired. I wonder if I’ll ever be as good as he is. Probably not. Nobody is as good a warrior as he is.

  On the way home, I asked him why he didn’t just throw his knife at the goblins. He said the throw is a last-resort move and should never be done unless you have no other options. Because the risk of missing is too great, especially if you don’t have an extra blade. I guess that’s why we spend so much time practicing stabbing as well as throwing.

  What I Learned Today:

  The ash or powder Amandán leave behind is like when a snake sheds its skin. That’s why it takes time for the creature to reform.

  I also learned that humans, like Rafe, feel about their people’s heritage like I feel about mine. I guess his lion bracelet is like my tore. I wish I could tell him about it. And what it means.

  The Journal of Gideon Lir: June 19

  Finnegan MacCullen, after being an apprentice for less than four weeks, won his first battle with an Amandán. It was well-fought. And I doubt I’ll see that tore off of him for quite some time.

  He does, however, have a ways to go. He is still defiant, still struggles with his temper. But I believe Finn will make a fine Knight in time.

  I should have spoken with him this evening about the Steel boy. I know from experience that friendships between mortals and De Danaan only end in sorrow

  But he deserved to have this evening of joy. I’ll battle with him tomorrow over breakfast.

  Fourteen

  “But why?” Finn stood in the middle of the kitchen, breakfast forgotten on the table. He glared at his master’s back. “It’s not like I’m going to tell him what I am and start waving my knife around. I’m not stupid, you know.” His voice rose in frustration.

  “What part of ye’re-not-to-associate-with-mortals are ye not understanding?” Gideon slammed his thick mug into the sink and turned around. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared down at the boy. “Look, ye want friends. And that’s all well and fine. As long as they’re our kind.” He pushed a dirty skillet aside, then leaned back against the counter. “What about Asher?”

  “Asher?” Finn made a face. “He’s a jerk.”

  Gideon raised an eyebrow. “‘Tis a bit rude.”

  “I could be ruder,” Finn mumbled. “And anyway, Rafe’s cool. This summer, he got to visit his grandfather in—”

  “No, Finn.”

  “Oh, come on, Gideon! What’s the big deal if I hang out with him once in awhile?”

  Gideon’s face darkened. Ignoring the question, he snatched a piece of paper off the counter and held it out. “Here’s a list of chores and drills ye’re to do whilst I pay a visit to Mac Roth and speak with him about—”

  “You’re not even listening to me!” Finn shoved a kitchen chair against the table with a bang, rattling the leftover dishes. Anger swelled in his chest. He found it hard to breathe.

  “I am listening to ye. Ye wish to befriend a mortal. And the Steels are decent folk. But the answer is still bleedin’ no!” The Knight took a calming breath and threw the sheet of paper on the table as he brushed past Finn. “I want these chores completed by the time I get back at one o’clock,” he said over his shoulder as he left.

  Finn snatched up the list and crumpled it into a ball. His mouth twisted with frustration as he hurled it across the kitchen. Whirling around, he stormed out the back door.

  Stalking across the yard, he headed to the punching bag hanging from a tree limb in the far corner. With a growl, he attacked it with his fists, trying to empty himself of the rage. Pummeling the bag, he focused on his hands striking the leather, relishing the shocks traveling up his arms and into his body. He grunted with each dull smack.

  After a few minutes, he slowed down, panting, as his mind drifted back to that evening a week ago, when Gideon had first installed the bag. Finn remembered how his master had showed him the correct rhythm of boxing and the proper balance of feet and fists. Ye might not always have a blade, boyo, so learning a bit of hand-to-hand fighting technique may come in handy. Taking a deep breath, Finn flexed his hands, shaking them out as he stepped back and watched the bag swing to and fro. As his fury drained away, he heard Gideon’s voice inside his head. And. Finn? When yer anger becomes too much, I want ye out here, pummeling this bag. We’ll see if we can’t channel some of that emotion into something more productive. Like boxing exercises.

  As he stood there, Finn listened to Gideon’s truck shuddering to life, the engine protesting as it backed out of their driveway and then drove away. Guess I should go pick up that stupid list and get busy. “I wonder who did all the work around here before I came?” he grumbled aloud. Licking smarting knuckles, he blew on them as he ambled toward the house. He slipped inside the kitchen and glanced at the table.

  The crumpled list rested amongst the dishes, smoothed open. Finn walked over and looked at it. 4. Practice boxing for fifteen minutes was checked off.

  Shoving the pile of dirty clothes under his bed, Finn glanced around his bedroom. Good enough. He froze at the faint sound of voices and the clang of the front gate opening and closing. He hurried across the hall and crept over to Gideon’s bedroom window

  Peeking out, his eyes widened at the sight of Rafe and Savannah heading along the walk toward the front porch. As he watched, Savannah glanced back over her shoulder at the b
ronze wire looped over and around the gate. He noticed her hair was pulled back into neat rows of tight braids.

  Finn turned and raced down the stairs, reaching the door just as someone knocked. With a guilty twinge in his stomach, he flung it open.

  “Hey, Finn,” Rafe said. Behind her brother’s shoulder, Savannah gave him a smile.

  “How’s it going?” Finn replied. Trying to act nonchalant, he pushed a discarded knife behind the door with his foot. Its blade was snapped off near the hilt. He stepped aside. “Wanna come in?”

  “Actually, we’re walking over to the mini-mart to get a slush drink. Do you want to go with us?” Savannah asked.

  Finn hesitated for a moment. Well, I am done with everything, he thought. And it’s only eleven. “Sure, that’d be great. Let me get some money. You can wait in the living room.”

  As they walked in, he caught the scent of something flowery or perfume-y when Savannah passed by. “Be right back.”

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he made a beeline for Gideon’s room. He headed over to the dresser. To one side, a handmade terracotta bowl held a moonstone. A layer of dust coated the bowl and stone. Glancing at it, Finn winced as he recalled Gideon’s cold tone and hard face when he had asked about it just a few days ago. Tis none of yer business, Finnegan MacCullen. It belonged to someone else, and that’s all ye need to know.

  Shrugging off the memory, Finn dug a hand into the coin jar on the other end of the dresser. He fished out some quarters and dimes, shoved them in his pocket, then tossed the rest back into the container with a clink. I know he’s saving money for new tires, he thought, trying to ignore another stab of guilt. But one soda pop won’t hurt. He went back downstairs to the living room.

  “Okay, I’m ready to—” He stopped at Rafe and Savannah’s expressions. Brother and sister stood in front of the fireplace, staring up open-mouthed over the mantel, at the rack which held the assortment of weapons.

  “These are beyond cool!” Rafe stepped closer. He reached up to touch the hide-wrapped handle of one of the knives. “Are they Mr. Lir’s?”

  “Uh … yeah. He collects them.”

  “Are they antiques?” Rafe stood on tiptoe to get a better view of the ones on the top rack.

  “I guess. He’s had some of them for years. He’s got a bunch more stored in the cellar.”

  “Does he use them for anything?” Savannah asked. “Hey, be careful!” She put out a hand to stop her brother from touching the edge of a wicked-looking knife sporting a handle made from deer antler.

  “See?” Rafe deliberately dragged a finger along the flat of the blade as he scowled at her. “That’s why I didn’t want you to tag along. You’re such a girl.”

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing. When, in fact, you’re envious. Just who kicked whose butt running with Dad this morning?”

  Finn shifted his feet nervously. “Hey, guys? Let’s go already.”

  He ushered them out the front. Pausing to lock the door behind him, Finn tucked the house key into his pocket, then followed Rafe and Savannah across the yard and down the street.

  Finn’s eyes darted from side to side as he examined every shadow I feel naked without my knife. But there’s no way I could have explained to them why I was packing a blade. He tried not to think about what Gideon would do if he found out Finn had not only spent time with Rafe and Savannah, but had left home without a weapon.

  After making their way to the end of the street, the threesome veered east. They took a shortcut through the mile-long park dividing their neighborhood from the nearby strip mall. A playground area with an enormous picnic pavilion dominated one corner, while several soccer fields stretched across the other side. Dense, rambling groves of trees created islands of shade.

  Walking between them, Savannah glanced at Finn’s neck. “That’s really a neat necklace.” She blushed, the rich color of her cheeks deepening. “I mean choker. Or whatever it is that guys wear.”

  Finn grinned. “It’s called a tore. It’s a traditional Irish neckpiece. Just for men.”

  “Is it real gold?” Rafe peered around his sister, trying to get a look at it. He whistled when Finn nodded.

  “So are you Irish? Like from Ireland?” Savannah asked.

  “No, I was born here in Colorado. But my da was from there. And so is Gideon.”

  “See, I told you,” she bragged to her brother. “Mr. Lir does have an accent.”

  “And it really comes out when he’s mad about something,” Finn said.

  Brother and sister laughed, sharing a knowing smile. “You should hear our mom’s.”

  “Is your da from South Africa, too?”

  “St. Louis,” Savannah said. “But he likes going every summer, which is their winter. I do, too. This time, my grandfather showed us some fey rings out in the bush that were unreal.”

  Finn stumbled as he missed a step. “F-fey rings?”

  Savannah nodded, the beads in her hair clicking softly. “They’re also called fairy rings. They’re found in Namibia, Angola, and South Africa. They’re these big circles in the dirt where no vegetation grows. Just bare soil. Some are about a yard across, some are a lot bigger. With kind of an ashy dirt. My grandfather has this old friend, Padraic O’Brien, who’s been a safari guide for years and he says that the local people believe the fey rings are made by some sort of supernatural creatures.”

  Reaching the deserted pavilion, all three paused in the shade. The boys perched on the top of one of the picnic tables, while Savannah took a seat on the bench, facing them.

  “What do you think made them?” Finn asked.

  “I don’t know. But Mr. O’Brien said once…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Said what?”

  “Well, that they look like…like blast zones. Like something exploded on those spots.”

  Rafe snorted. “O’Brien’s weird. I don’t know why Grandfather hangs out with him.”

  Finn frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, for one thing, he never looks like he’s getting any older. And he never goes anywhere, and I mean anywhere, without a knife. And he and Grandfather are always exploring those caves in the foothills by his house.”

  “Well, I think he’s cool.” Savannah’s eyes flashed.

  “That’s because he tells you all those myths from around the world, and you’re such a baby that you still believe in fairies and unicorns and talking animals.” Rafe laughed at his sister’s mortification. “Oh, yeah. And elves.” He turned to Finn. “You should have seen her when the Lord of the Rings movies came out.” He jerked his knee out of the way as Savannah swung her fist at his leg.

  “Shut up, Rafe! I don’t believe in them. I just think legends like that are…are interesting. Like the stories of Anansi the African trickster. He does all these…”

  “Man, stop her before she hurts herself,” Rafe muttered under his breath.

  Finn faked a laugh, his mind whirling. I’ll bet my tore that: Padraic O’Brien is a Tuatha De Danaan. And their grandfather knows it. He blinked as Rafe slapped him on the back.

  “Come on. I hear a purple slush drink calling my name.”

  With a nod, Finn hopped down and started across the park, the other two lagging behind as Rafe continued teasing his sister. Reaching a broad stand of trees, Finn followed the shadow-dappled path into it as it dipped down into a hollow, the terrain muting traffic noise and the sounds of the distant neighborhood. He turned a corner, then stopped and looked back as he waited for the twins to appear. Maybe Gideon would let me be friends with them if he knew their grandfather knows about the De Danaan? Talk about the luck of the Irish—. I thought stuff like this only happened in books or movies.

  A dark shape dropped past him. It stroked his arm with the tip of its wing before landing on the trail. Finn let out a yelp and jumped sideways. His skin crawled as he stared at the crow. The crow stared back, its head cocked to one side. It gave a harsh caw, then heaved itself back into the air and disappeared int
o the canopy. A single ebony feather floated down.

  “Oh, crap.” Finn reached behind himself for his knife. He groaned when his fingers closed on nothing. Okay, don’t panic. He swiveled around as he tried to scan the woods on either side. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched. A heavy figure suddenly stepped from the trees a few yards in front of him and blocked the path.

  “Oh, hello, dear. I’m so sorry if I frightened you. I was just looking for my dog.” The pudgy, middle-aged woman, dressed in a jogging outfit, held up a leash and gave it a shake, jingling the clip. “He ran off.” She began walking toward him.

  Finn backed away, his heart pounding so hard he could feel himself shake. How am I supposed to know if it’s a goblin or not? The Amandán could be anywhere nearby, and this is just some lady. My moonstone doesn’t work. I don’t have a knife. And even if I did, I can’t go around sticking people with it, just to see if they’re Amandán or not. The thoughts careened through his head as he tried to keep a safe distance from the woman.

  At that moment, Rafe and Savannah stepped around the far corner, waving their arms and yelling at each other as they approached. Finn glanced over his shoulder, then back at the woman. Is she, or isn’t she?

  The woman smiled. Her grin stretched wider and wider across her face, as if the corners of her mouth were trying to meet each other around the back of her head. She dropped the leash. With a shudder, she began twisting and contorting. Her jogging outfit melted into a shaggy green pelt. Glancing past Finn’s shoulder, the Amandán let out a rough guffaw

  “Good pickings today—fey and man flesh.” Without warning, it lunged at him, both hands reaching for his face. “Poc sidhe!”