Unholy Blue

by Darby Kaye

  “Damn it, Bann!” She stomped up to him, her face and hair powdered with goblin ash and sweat, her eyes an icy blue. “I was practicing my footwork!”

  “It could have killed you!” Bann yelled back. He was vaguely aware of Ann and Hugh finishing off the last two goblins a few yards away. They were exchanging good-natured insults.

  “Really? You really think I’m that inept?”

  “It was twice your size!”

  “Not really, but so what if it was? I knew what I was doing!”

  “By dancing about like a—” He started to wave his arms in mockery, then hissed when a sharp pain in his ribs reminded him that that was not such a good idea.

  “Bann?” Shay frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  Marveling at the speed Shay would shift from Warrior to Healer—and taking advantage of it—Bann decided to abandon the current field of battle. “Battered ribs is all.”

  “Let me see.” She shoved her knife back in its sheath.

  Unzipping his jacket, he pulled up his shirt and T-shirt, exposing his right side. Shay peered at it, then ran gentle fingers along his ribs in examination. Each stroke made him wince. She unzipped one of the pockets on her fleece and pulled out a smooth, white stone, its edges translucent. Cupping the moonstone in her hand, she waited until it began to glow with a pale light, then balanced it between thumb and fingers. She passed the stone slowly back and forth over his side as she continued to examine him.

  “You’re right—bruised, not broken.” She motioned for him to lower his shirt. “But you’re going to be wicked sore for a few days. We’ll bathe it in sláinte nettle brew when we get back.” Keeping her stone out, she turned to Hugh and Ann. “Hugh?”

  “Wrenched knee, nothing more.” He walked a few steps, limping only slightly. Ann held his arm.

  “It would be your left one.” Ann shook her hair, matted with goblin powder, out of her eyes. “We just got you healed up from last winter’s accident, too.”

  “Hunting accident?” Bann asked.

  Hugh reddened. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “Liar,” Ann said good-naturedly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hugh Doyle. It can happen to the best of—”

  “We should be heading back now.” Hugh hastily interrupted. He took a few more steps, testing it out, then gave a nod. “Good enough to get me home.”

  The four of them began making their way to the trail the women had used earlier. Ann led the group, with a limping Hugh behind her. Bann followed and Shay took up the rear. For a while, they walked in silence, eyes and ears on guard.

  As they neared the back gate, Shay spoke from behind him. “Wasn’t that the same bunch we hunted last month?”

  “It was. Although I didn’t recall the pack having a member the size you were waltzing with. Hugh? Did you?”

  “No. In fact, I’ve never seen one that large. An anomaly, do you think?”

  “Gods, I hope so,” Shay said. “Because the last thing we need, on top of all the other load o’ crap we’re dealing with, is to have a giant breed of Amandán running around these woods.”

  With my luck, that’s exactly what we might have, Bann thought.

  10

  A WEEK LATER, BATTLING giant goblins was the last thing on Shay’s mind. An early morning snuggle had sparked into a full-blown, mind-blown romp in bed. Afterwards, as she drifted in what the French called la petite mort—the little death—she wondered if she would ever get tired of their lovemaking. Gods, I hope not. And I doubt Bann will—the guy was practically a monk for the last year.

  Before she wearied of his weight on her, Bann nuzzled her cheek, his morning stubble deliciously rough, then shifted away with a grunt of both pleasure and pain. He rolled to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water accompanied the man humming to himself. I would’ve never guessed, she thought when she caught a few notes of “Desperado,” that he would be an Eagles fan.

  He appeared in the doorway wiping down his groin with a damp washcloth. “I’ll be eager to do that,” he nodded toward the bed, “without a condom.”

  “One more month. Just to make sure.” She had decided to put herself on the time-tested herbal regimen most Tuatha Dé Danaan woman used for birth control a few days earlier. When she had informed Bann that their days of using condoms were coming to an end, his face had lit up like the sunrise over the eastern plains. She couldn’t help laughing at his look of disappointment when she explained that the herbs would take three or four weeks to align with her natural cycle, and that they would need to continue to use an alternative form of birth control until then.

  Finished with his cleaning, he dropped the cloth into the hamper by the bathroom door and rejoined her in bed, tucking her under his arm as he leaned back, pillows bunched behind him, their hands linked on his lap. He sat in silence, his fingers adjusting and readjusting her betrothal rings, separating them and then fitting them back together. After a minute, he cleared his throat.

  “Shay. About that.”

  “About what?” She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say, but she wanted him to say it first.

  “About…children.” Another throat clearing. “Do you want a child?”

  “You mean another one?” She twisted her head around and looked up when he didn’t answer.

  His eyes were warm with emotion. “Ye slay me when ye do that,” he whispered. “Speak of Cor as yer own.” He tightened his arms around her.

  She hugged him back. “That’s how I feel about him—you know it was a tie which one of you Boru men I fell in love with first. But, to answer your question, yes, I want children. Your children. I want to give Cor a family.”

  “As do I. A daughter as beautiful as her mother.”

  Shay sat up and faced him. “What if we have another boy?”

  “Then the gods help us both.”

  A long silence followed, filled with that easy quiet that Shay cherished.

  Then.

  “But I think we should wait—” they both said at the same time.

  Bann laughed. “I was thinking about—” he began.

  “—about six months or more. To give everyone a chance—” Shay continued.

  “—a chance to settle into our new lives together,” Bann finished.

  They sealed the decision with a kiss.

  “I better get moving before Cor gets up.” Shay slipped out of bed, plucked her T-shirt and pajama pants from the floor, and pulled them on, then combed her fingers through her hair, smoothing the tangles. “I want to surprise him with a birthday breakfast.”

  A toilet flushed. It was followed a few moments later by a knock on the door.

  “Too late.” Bann sat up straighter, tugging the covers higher over his hips. “Come in, son.”

  Boy and puppy burst into the room. “It’s my birthday today,” Cor announced. He clambered onto the bed, then crawled on his hands and knees over to Bann and snuggled next to him.

  “No, m’lad.” Bann’s face was suspiciously expressionless. “Your birthday is next Saturday.”

  “Uh-uh. It’s today.”

  “Son, I should know—I was there when it happened.”

  “So was I.”

  Bann laughed. “Well struck, boyo.” He pulled Cor more firmly against his side, then reached over the edge of the mattress and snapped his fingers at Sam. When the puppy raced over to investigate, he scooped him up and deposited him on the comforter between them. “Nine years old. Quite a special age.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Why, you only turn nine once.” He kissed the top of the rumpled head.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Shay noticed a pensive expression flicker across Bann’s face. He’s probably thinking back over this past year, when Cor even making it to his next birthday was a fifty-fifty proposition.

  Hoping to erase the somber thought from Bann’s mind and enjoying the sight of her three boys all piled on the bed together, she snagged
her cell phone off the bedside table. “Smile!” She aimed it at them and clicked.

  Right on cue, all three of them made faces—Sam by accident due to a sneeze, and Bann and Cor by simply being Bann and Cor.

  After breakfast, Bann set Cor to his morning chores of puppy care and bedroom tidying, then bustled about, fixing several boards that were coming loose on the back fence. “Your cousins are fine men,” Bann said as he went to fetch his toolbox from the garage. “But carpenters, they are not.”

  “Not every guy has your years of life experience,” Shay said with a straight face. “Or should I say century?”

  “‘’Tis the prime blacksmith that has the proven anvil and hammer,’” Bann quoted, face just as straight.

  Meanwhile, Shay took care of her Healer tasks, which included checking which herbs and other ingredients needed restocking. As she stood at the kitchen island, writing out a list, her hand stilled at a sudden realization. I don’t have a sickroom anymore for patients who might need around-the-clock care. Clicking her tongue, she pondered what to do. Well, I could turn that third bedroom into a sickroom. She thought back to their earlier conversation. Of course, we’re going to need a nursery, too. Eventually. She looked up when the back door rolled open. Bann stepped inside.

  “Bann? What do you think about converting the third bedroom, the one I use for storage, into a guest room? Or we could move Cor into that room and leave the guest room as is.”

  “I was hoping to use that third bedroom to store our things coming from Pennsylvania. They said the shipment should be arriving next Saturday.”

  “Why not use the garage?”

  “Hmm. Well, there might be enough room. If we leave your vehicle in the driveway.”

  “Why mine?”

  “Mine is the newer one,” he said in a tone that indicated surprise that she even had to ask.

  They looked at each other.

  “We need a bigger house,” they said at the same time.

  “With an entire room I could use as my apothecary shop instead of a dinky closet,” Shay said. “With more space and a sink.”

  “A workshop would be nice.” Bann set his box on the island. “One with room to store my tools, and lumber, as well.”

  “Perfect. You could build me some shelves to start with.” She snagged the morning paper lying on the corner of the counter. “We’ll need more bedrooms, too.” The paper rustled as she flipped through it until she found the real estate section. Pen in hand, she began scanning the ads. “What part of town are you thinking of? Maybe something around here or—”

  “Shay.”

  She looked up. The crease between Bann’s brows made her mentally kick herself. You think I would have learned after the truck incident. She laid her pen down. “Aaand this is where we stop, and, calmly and rationally, discuss the budget. Our joint budget. The budget we will both contribute to without tallying up amounts. All the while keeping in mind that the end objective is to promote the happiness and well-being of all family members—current and future ones.” She made a show of playing with her rings as she waited, giving him time.

  “Aye, you’re right,” he finally said. “The good of our family is the ultimate goal.”

  “Really the only goal in this case.”

  He sighed. “I’ve never been a kept man before.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, you earn your way,” she teased. “This morning was a good example.”

  “So that is why you wish to marry me. For the bed sport.”

  “And your good looks. You’re my trophy husband, don’t you know.”

  “As you can see, this is an amazing property,” said the real estate agent, a petite woman who wore a “hey-I’m-seriously-serious” navy business suit and two-inch heels to compensate. She had a jittery manner that made Bann wonder if she had a Starbucks addiction. A file folder was tucked under one arm as she led Bann, Shay, and a bored Cor along the flagstone walkway toward a two-story house surrounded by Ponderosa pines. “The lot is quite private. It’s a little more than two acres.” She stopped and swept her arm back behind them. Bann noticed she kept darting veiled glances at his sheathed knife as she spoke. “And just look at that million-dollar view of the city.”

  Bann turned. Set on the side of a steep slope and facing eastward, the Arts and Crafts-styled house butted up against the foothills in a neighborhood that marked the very western edge of the city. The walkway climbed up through a terraced front yard landscaped with natural grasses, large boulders, and the occasional well-pruned scrub oak cluster. On the side of the house, a driveway led to an oversized garage.

  “It’s a bit close to goblin territory,” Shay had said when she had discovered the listing in the paper. Standing side by side with Bann at the kitchen island, she had tapped a finger on a map of High Springs. “See?”

  Locating Hugh and Ann’s street, Bann had shrugged. “Certainly not any closer than your aunt’s and uncle’s. They’re only about two miles north of this property as the crow flies. Plus,” he had glanced over at Cor filling Sam’s water dish and slopping half of it on the floor, “hunting—and training our children to hunt—those beasties is what we are about.”

  Even before he had finished, Shay was reaching for the phone. As she spoke to the listing agent requesting a viewing sooner than later, Bann shook his head.

  Now, following Shay and the agent up the path, Bann studied the house. It reminded him of the simpler bungalow he and Elizabeth had owned in Pennsylvania. Only this one was larger, with a wide, welcoming porch and twin dormers, like guard towers, over the porch’s roof. The clapboards were painted in light and dark greens, with the moldings picked out in a rich burgundy; the front door was crafted from red oak left natural to celebrate its origins. The wooden treads echoed slightly as they walked up the three steps leading to the porch. To both Shay’s and Bann’s surprise, a carved Celtic knot, the three-lobed design known as the ancient triquetra, adorned the central door panel.

  As the agent fumbled with the key, Shay leaned closer. “Coincidence?”

  “Perhaps. We could ask who the owner is.” Bann glanced around for his son. “Cormac Boru! Do not even think about it.”

  Halfway down the walk, Cor was bouncing a pebble in his hand that he had gathered from the decorative gravel border. He was eyeing the metal For Sale sign planted in the center of the highest terrace. At his father’s stern command, he tossed the missile back into the gravel bed and dragged himself up the stairs with a scowl. He walked slow enough to stay just shy of the line of disrespect. A skill he has perfected, Bann thought. The little git.

  “I never get to do anything fun,” Cor complained.

  “Then I am a success as a father.” Making a squid hand on top of Cor’s head, he steered the boy in front of him. “Me on the win.”

  “Me for the win,” Shay corrected under her breath.

  “Whatever,” Bann muttered back in Gaelic.

  A tour of the main level revealed a living room with a fireplace, large windows overlooking the porch, and oak wainscoting, as well as a small but cozy dining room and, best of all, a spacious, modern kitchen/family room combination. A pantry, located off to one side and complete with a sink and floor-to-ceiling shelving, caused Shay to punch the air when the agent’s back was turned. Another door next to the pantry opened to the garage. Longer than the standard garage, this one had a built-in workbench, with storage racks above, that ran almost the entire length of the front end.

  Then, up the stairs. Four bedrooms opened onto the upper corridor, two facing east and one facing west into the hillside. A bathroom separated the two eastern rooms. At the end of the hall, the master bedroom boasted its own full bath and had south- as well as west-facing windows that bathed the room in light.

  In spite of his hesitance to jump into anything so quickly, Bann began to visualize the three of them—four, if we count wee Sam—living in the house. He could tell Shay was smitten by it, and even Cor was busy scampering back and forth, trying to decid
e which of the three bedrooms would be his. His mind kept drifting back to the triquetra. “Interesting design on the front entry, eh?”

  The realtor beamed. “A charming detail, and very Arts and Crafts. I think it is Amish or Dutch or something,” she added brightly.

  “Aye.” Bann nodded, ignoring Shay snickering into her hand behind the realtor’s back. “Or something.”

  The realtor, sensing a sale, kept pointing out every detail from the solid construction to the pet-friendly fenced back yard to the attractive sale price. “What kind of mortgage were you thinking of, by the way?” A pen appeared in her hand at the speed of a Knight arming herself for battle. She flipped open the folder.

  Before Shay could answer, Bann spoke, his face neutral. “Why, it depends on the success of the raiding season, miss. I was hoping to pay cash. But, sadly, these last few years have been lean, what with so many people locking up their gold and cattle and other valuables, don’t you know.”

  “The r-raiding season?” Her eyes widened as she glanced again at Bann’s knife.

  “Ignore him,” Shay said, rolling her eyes.

  “Listen, I have the preliminary paperwork in my car. Let me get it. This is a very desirable property and you’ll want to bid on it right away.” She scurried away, her high heels tip-tapping on the wooden treads, and leaving Bann and Shay standing in the middle of the empty master bedroom.

  “Keen little thing, she is,” Bann said.

  As Shay disappeared into the master bath for a second look, Bann wandered over to the window and gazed at the back yard. Down the hall, Cor was still dashing back and forth across the corridor from one bedroom to the next, his feet echoing in the empty house. Good. He can burn off his energy. The man listened with half an ear to his son chattering away about which room he wanted and when were they going to stop looking at the house and start celebrating his birthday.