by Darby Kaye
Cor shook his head. “He told me it was my fault.”
“He?”
“Max. That day in the woods when Hugh found me. He said I was the cat list of all this. Then his eyes turned red and he laughed and he ran off.” He shuddered at the memory.
“‘Cat list’?” When Cor nodded, she scratched her head. “You mean, ‘catalyst’?”
“I-I guess.”
Well, that fits with what Orwren told me. “Well. First things first. You said Bann headed into the Garden?”
“Yeah. Are we going to go look for him?”
“I am. You’re staying here. Where’s your dad’s cell phone?”
Cor shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Here.” She pulled her phone out of her fleece pocket and handed it over. “Remember how to use it? Good. I want you to call Hugh and Ann and tell them Shay said come right now. As fast as they can. And bring Rory and James, too.”
With that, she hurried through the house and out the back door. Feeling the minutes melting away like the snow on the surrounding boulders, she sprinted across the yard and through the open gate. Slowing, she glanced around at the various footprints, then taking her best guess as to which tracks were freshest—and thus, were Bann’s—she followed them into the rocks.
For the next ten minutes, she ran and jogged and ran again, following the trail, then backtracking when she lost it, then running again, always angling north. Wanting to sprint full out, she kept herself to a steady pace, eyes on the ground, pausing now and again to hold her breath so she could hear. Finally, a single set of boot prints led her around a boulder the size of a Volkswagen Bug.
Bann sat slumped on the wet ground, leaning back against the far side of the boulder with his legs splayed out in front of him. Sweat glistened on his face and darkened the neck of his shirt. He stared down at his bared arm—the same one Cernunnos had bitten—held stiffly out in front of him.
Panting, her eyes followed his gaze. Blood coated his limb like a sleeve. He held a knife in his other hand—its iron blade was striped with red. Even as she watched, he dragged the knife along his forearm and sliced at it again, trying to shave another layer off. At the sound of her gasp, he raised his head; it lolled as if he were drunk. And his eyes were glazed with pain and something else.
“Bann?” She crept closer, her heart thundering from running and from fear, and held out a hand. “Bann, it’s me. It’s Shay.”
“Shay, darlin’,” he said hoarsely. He swallowed and licked his lips. “Help me?”
“Oh, love.” She squatted down next to him. “Anything.”
He offered the knife to her, hilt first, his fingers stained with blood. “Cut deep.” He tilted his head back, exposing his throat. “And burn my body afterwards.”
“What? No!” She knocked the knife from his grip. “There’s no need for—”
Cursing, he grabbed the knife and lurched to his feet, then swayed. She rose with him. Standing next to him was like standing next to an open kiln.
“Bann, I know what to do—”
Before she could finish, he staggered a few feet, then whirled around, flinging his arms wide. Blood splattered the patches of snow still lingering on the north sides of the boulders. Red freckles on white faces. His lips knotted with anger. And fear. And self-loathing.
“Because of this,” he held out his left arm to her as evidence, “I struck my child in anger. And the pup as well.” He looked down at the knife in his hand. “I wanted to kill them.”
“It wasn’t you. It was the poison from Cernunnos. But there is a—”
“I will not become that monster. I’ll fall on my own blade first.”
“It won’t come to that, I promise. I spoke with Orwren. We have a cure, Bann. Do you understand me? A cure. But we need to go back home. Now.”
Bann started to speak, then winced, turning his head to one side as if ducking a blow. Eyelids squeezed tight, he pressed the back of his hand to his face, muttering. To Shay, it sounded like he was arguing—begging—with someone. After a moment, he lowered his arm.
His eyes glowed with a shade of blue that was so neon and so wrong, it made Shay step back, her skin crawling. “Eyes of most unholy blue.” The line from the old poem flickered through her head.
As did a growing alarm through her gut.
Bann was staring at her with a look that made the most reptilian part of her brain want to coil up in defense under a rock. He curled his lips from his teeth. “Ye’re a fine woman, Shay Doyle.” His gaze traveling up and down her body with a look of ownership. “To salvage one such as me.”
“You’re my betrothed.” Trying to think around the bells clanging a warning in her head, Shay held out her hand again. “I love you, you big lug. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Bann stepped closer. To her relief, he sheathed his knife. “Nothing, ye say?” He took her hand, then tugged her into his arms and gazed down at her. She could feel the heat of his fevered body through her jacket. Please, she begged the Goddess, let it be only a fever.
“Nothing.” She looked up, searching his eyes, hoping to find the Knight. “Now, let’s go home and I’ll—”
The rest of her words were lost when Bann captured her mouth with his. He tasted like salt and blood, and his lips were hot. With a low moan, he tightened his arms around her, his mouth forcing hers open. She shivered at his unshaven face along her skin. In spite of everything, her body responded. A heat low in her belly.
After a moment, he pulled back enough to murmur against her lips. “I want ye. Now.”
“I want you, too.” Not really, but anything to get him home. “But, first, let’s get you fixed up—and cleaned up—before we go at it.” She started to pull free when he jerked her back. “Bann, no. I said later.” She squirmed in his grasp.
“Do ye fear to lay with me?”
“Of course not.” A little. “But we need to check on Cor first,” she said, hoping the mention of the boy would pull Bann back from wherever the madness was taking him. She was suddenly aware of just how strong he was. That awareness grew when he walked her backwards and pinned her against the boulder. A protruding rock dug into her back as he pressed against her again, his lips attacking hers again.
She jerked her face to one side. Stubble scraped her cheek. “You’re being…” she worked her hands up between their bodies—a tight fit—and tried to shove him away “…too rough. Stop it. Now!”
“Ye enjoyed me roughness this morning,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and slightly sour.
“Bann, I said no.”
“Randy, ye called me then. And randy I am now.”
She stopped struggling, her palms still pressed against his chest. “‘I am the roar of the sea,’” she said in Gaelic. A moment. Then strength flooded her, driven by the Song and her own growing fury. With an almighty heave, she pushed, sending Bann reeling backwards. An idea flashed through her mind. Ducking around him, she took off running toward the house.
Bann followed, stumbling over rocks, feet bogging down in the deep sand. “Come back, woman. I’m not finished with ye.”
“You want me?” she shouted over her shoulder. “Then you’ll have to catch me.” She ran faster, checking back every now and again, making sure to stay just a few yards ahead of him. Breaking out of the jumble of boulders, she sprinted toward the back gate. Gods, I hope Cor got hold of them. Her heart soared when she spied Hugh already stepping out the back door, Rory and James behind him.
She shot inside the yard and ran toward her uncle and cousins. “Grab him!” When Hugh hesitated, she growled in frustration. Dodging Bann as he lunged for her, she darted around her uncle, placing him between her fiancé and herself. “Just do it!”
Chest heaving, Bann stood glaring through lowered brows at the older Knight. “Stand aside, Hugh Doyle. This is between me and the woman. Ye have no right—”
“Now, lads!” Hugh shouted.
The Knights threw themselves on Bann. B
ellowing, he fought back. It took all three of the Doyles just to hold him until James hooked a foot around his ankle and tripped him. The four slammed to the ground, Bann pinned beneath them. Wincing from the force of the impact, Shay prayed Cor wasn’t watching.
“What do we do now?” Hugh yelled over Bann’s shouts of “get the fokke off of me.”
“Don’t let him go.” Shay sucked in a deep breath, suddenly aware of her heart trying to punch its way out between her ribs. “No matter what.”
“What’s wrong with him? Hey!” Rory dodged a knee to his groin. “Damn, you fight dirty, Boru.”
“That bite. From Cernunnos.” As the men held onto a struggling Bann, she hastily brought them up to date. “Orwren knows what to do, but it’s going to take some time for her to get everything set up at her place. She said she’ll be ready by nightfall. In the meantime, we have to keep Bann as quiet and still as possible. We don’t want the poison to spread any faster.” Which probably means all this sprinting and wrestling isn’t helping. Not willing to beat herself up over that, she studied the man on the ground. “I got an idea. Hold on.”
She dashed inside to her apothecary room. Jiggling from foot to foot, she ran her fingertips along shelf after shelf, searching. A part of her wondered where Cor was. “Where the hell did I put—Oh, here it is.” She snatched the pyramid-shaped glass vial from the shelf, and raced back outside. She knelt down next to Bann, who was cursing in Gaelic with an accent so thick she only caught every third word.
Hugh eyed the bottle in her hand. “Belladonna, eh? Strong stuff.”
“A mild variation.” Shay pulled out the stopper. “And he’s a big guy. Plus, that poison in his system needs an extra kick in the pants. It’ll just knock him out for the rest of the day.”
With that, she and Hugh held Bann down long enough to pour a few drops into his mouth. He sputtered, choking out promises of death to them all. Then his eyes rolled back in his head. He went limp, as if someone had sucker-punched him.
“Whoa.” Rory looked at the vial, then Shay. “I think I’ll stop teasing you.”
It took all three Doyles and some serious grunting to haul Bann inside and dump him on the bed. As James pulled off Bann’s muddy boots, Hugh and Rory carted the broken headboard into the unused second spare bedroom.
Meanwhile, Shay gathered up her medical supplies and followed them. “Where’s Cor?” she asked as she walked into the room. Perching on the mattress next to Bann, she checked his pulse, then began cleaning and bandaging the arm he had tried to whittle down to the bone.
“In his room. Ann’s with him and the puppy.” James placed the boots in the corner and wiped his hands on his jeans. “How long will he be unconscious?”
“Hopefully, long enough. And when he does wake up, he’ll be pretty groggy for a while.” She looked over as Ann appeared in the doorway.
“How bad?” Ann asked.
“Bad. But it could be a lot worse. Cor still in his room?”
Ann nodded. “He wants to come out, but I don’t think he needs to see his father like this.” She nodded at the prone figure. She moved to one side when Hugh and Rory rejoined them. “Okay, get me up to speed.”
Cor didn’t need to see a lot of things this past year, Shay thought. After explaining Bann’s erratic behavior and her subsequent meeting with Orwren, she added, “We’ve got to make plans.”
“For starters, why don’t I take Cor and Sam home with me?” Ann suggested. “We’ll meet the rest of you later for the ceremony. And how certain is Orwren about all this?”
Taping the gauze bandage around Bann’s arm, Shay placed supplies on the bedside table and shrugged. “She said it was a multifaceted ceremony, invoking powerful spirits and shrouded in ancient mystery, and blah, blah, blah. Her typical druidess drama. But she seemed pretty confident about it. What?” she asked when Hugh and Ann exchanged amused glances.
“Nothing.” Ann reached over and slipped her hand inside Hugh’s front pocket and began fishing around. “Oh, don’t get so hopeful, Hugh Doyle. I’m just getting the car keys. I left my set at home.” With that, she pulled them out and jingled them in her hands. “What time should I have Cor at Orwren’s? And how are you getting Bann there?”
“Orwren said around dusk.” Shay shifted on the mattress, stretching her back and overcome with a sudden desire to flop down next to a sleeping Bann and take a nap. “He’ll be groggy enough that we’ll just stuff him into the SUV and drive him over. These guys,” she waved a hand at Rory and James, “can stay and help me.”
“I, as well,” Hugh added. “And no arguing with me, missy. I’m not only your uncle, I’m also your clan leader. And I want to make sure our Healer, my niece, is safe.”
A few hours later, Shay was grateful that her uncle had stayed. While James and Rory are no slouches, Hugh has the size and strength to handle Bann. She waited in the dusk by the side of her SUV as Hugh, with Bann’s arm slung around his neck and his own arm wrapped around Bann’s waist, dragged the half-asleep Knight down the driveway and bundled him into the back seat. With James driving, Shay and Hugh sat with Bann between them while Rory followed in his Jeep.
Twilight was just giving way to night when they pulled into the empty parking lot next to Orwren’s. The other stores were closed for the day. As they helped Bann out and escorted him toward the building, Orwren appeared at the edge of the lot. She was dressed in a white robe with flaring sleeves and a hood that covered her hair. The fabric shimmered in the light of the single streetlamp as she moved.
“Going a little Gandalf on us?” Rory asked. He gestured toward her robe. “Or is that your leftover costume from MileHiCon?”
She smiled at him, taking in his scruffy clothes. “Boys are so cute when they’re trying to impress a woman.” She stepped past him toward Shay and Hugh, still holding a groggy Bann between them. “So this is Bannerman Boru.” She cupped his chin and lifted his head. “Quite the looker.” She cut her eyes at Shay. “Go, you.”
Bite me. “Is everything ready?”
“It is. Let’s get him inside.”
28
BANN FORCED HIMSELF NOT to react when slender fingers curled around his chin, their coolness in contrast to the fire that still raged inside him. They reminded him of Elizabeth’s—soft and delicate. Pretending to keep his eyes half-closed was easy, considering he felt like someone had gone to town on him with a baseball bat.
Letting his head loll after the fingers released him, he relaxed his muscles further, trying to fool his captors—those bastard Fir Bolgs. And when did they capture me again?—into a false sense of control as they dragged him toward some building he had never seen before. His vision swirled. He blinked, trying to get the world back in focus. A strong, nasty taste, like the way week-old fava beans smelled, coated his tongue.
A figure in white appeared, murmured something, then floated away. He thought he heard Shay’s voice. Did they capture her, too? And where is Cor? All the while, the fire within threatened to burst into flames.
Wait, the Voice told him. Wait, and then, when the time is right, snatch the nearest weapon and start a-slashing. Fight free, take your woman, and go in search of your child. Testing his captors’ attention, he pretended to stumble. Hands caught him, surprisingly gentle as they patted his arms. It’s a trick, the Voice warned him.
“Shay?” he whispered.
“I’m right here.” A hand squeezed his biceps.
Good. She’s near. “Where’s Cor?”
“He’s not here yet. Ann is—”
“Be ready to flee,” he murmured to her. “I’ll fight them off as long as I can, then follow you.”
“It’s the belladonna,” Bann heard Shay say to someone. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Clever lass. She’s lulling those creatures into thinking I’m drugged. Good. Very good.
He raised his head slowly, eyes half-lidded. Shay walked on one side of him. A large figure was on the other. Something about his capto
r seemed familiar; the light from the nearby street lamp made his hair a red flame. Since when did Fir Bolgs have hair, red or no? he thought wildly. A building loomed up in front of him… some sort of shop with a display window. For a moment, the captor’s grip loosened.
NOW! shouted the Voice.
With a cry, Bann wrenched free of the hands, then rammed his shoulder into the redheaded Fir Bolg and shoved him into the display window. The shrill tinkle of breaking glass ripped through the night. And probably through some flesh as well. He bared his teeth in savage joy.
“Bann!” Shay reached for him.
“Run!” Grabbing her hand, he bolted around the corner of the building. Two other creatures jumped in front of him. Plowing into them with a snarl, he knocked them off their feet and kept running. Hope flamed when he spotted Shay’s SUV parked in a nearby lot. He sped up, dragging a resisting Shay who kept yelling at him to stop for one damn minute. Reaching the vehicle, he dug through his jeans and yanked out his key ring. He fumbled for a moment, cursing, as he tried to find the right key.
“Bann! Listen to me.” Shay tried to grab the keys from him. “You’re infected with—”
He pulled away and unlocked the passenger door. “Get inside. Now.” Running around to the other side, Bann flung himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Shay! Hurry!” he shouted over the engine.
Shay hesitated, looking back over her shoulder, then jumped in. “Bann, please! You need to stop and listen—”
He gunned the engine and tore out of the parking lot, just missing several figures that were running toward the only other vehicle in the lot. Tires screeching, he made a U-turn in the street and headed east.
“Where are we going?” Shay clicked her seatbelt in place.
“We need weapons.” He wiped the sweat running down his face. “We’ll return home, arm ourselves, then free Cor.” He glanced over. The skepticism on the woman’s face made him even more furious. A red haze filled his vision.