by Darby Kaye
The Voice whispered again—it seemed to be growing louder with every minute. Who is she to doubt you? “I know what I’m doing.”
“Bann,” Shay began again, using the patronizing tone he was finding irritating. “You’re sick. Cernunnos has made you—”
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. The blow reminded him how much damage he had done to his arm. “Enough! ’Tis nothing wrong with me. I’m trying to keep ye and the boy safe from those creatures. Now, obey me!” He sped up.
Lips pressed in a thin line, Shay said nothing, but tightened her seatbelt.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the driveway. The house was dark. “Wait here, Shay. I’ll fetch the weapons, then we will be gone. And keep the doors locked.” He climbed out, taking the keys, and nodded when she locked the car doors behind him. Glancing around at the shadows, he jogged to the front door. Inside, he headed down the hallway to their bedroom.
From the knives hanging on the inside of the closet door, he selected four and jammed one into his sheath, two through his belt. The other, he kept in his hand. And now for Cor. He headed back toward the front door. Just as he reached for the knob, he paused, head cocked.
The sound of car doors shutting softly. Then voices speaking in low tones as they approached. Shay’s was one of them.
That bitch. I ordered her to stay in the vehicle.
He tensed when the doorknob rattled. With a curse at the realization that Shay had betrayed him and joined the enemy, he spun around and bolted out the back door. Halfway across the yard, he skidded to a stop when he spotted two forms, both with drawn weapons. He raised his knife.
“Easy, Bann.” One of the figures held out a hand, palm up. “It’s James. James Doyle. For Cor’s sake, you need to—”
“My son,” Bann said in Gaelic. “Where is he?”
The two men looked at each other. “Something about ‘my son’ was all I got,” the other man said.
The porch light blazed on. Bann jerked around. Two others stepped out from the doorway—to his dismay, Shay was one of them. He slid a second weapon free as the foursome, the largest one bleeding from a gash on his forehead, surrounded him. Lips pulled back, he snarled, the sound a rumble in his chest. Like a hound’s.
Like a hound’s.
For a split second, his vision cleared. The red haze he had been peering through faded, leaving the night air clean and pure and holy. Lowering his weapons, he looked around at Shay’s family—my family—circling him with wary expressions.
Shay edged forward. “Bann?” She studied his eyes, as if desperately searching for something.
Licking dry lips, Bann swallowed, then spoke. “Cor.”
“Still safe.” She took another step toward him. “Now, let’s take care of you.”
He looked down at his arm. “Cernunnos?”
“Yes. But we know how to cure you.” She took another step. “But we need to hurry. So what do you say you put down those knives?” She reached for him.
They are trying to trick you, you know, the Voice said. They have your son as hostage for some nefarious reason, no doubt. Well, two can play at that game.
With a growl, he grabbed her and spun her around, pinning her to his chest with one arm while he pressed a knife against her throat with his other. “Stand down,” he yelled at the others. “Stand down or I will—”
With a cry, she yanked an arm free, grabbed his mutilated finger, and twisted it as hard as she could. White-hot pain almost made him black out. A blow from her elbow to his solar plexus, then she was loose. Spinning on her toes, she cocked back her arm.
The last thing he saw was her fist approaching.
A voice—not the Voice that had haunted him for the last few days, but a beloved voice—whispered to him from the far edge of wherever he was. Just the tenor alone, a mix of concern and love and annoyance, was like a light in the darkness.
“Bann?” Fingers ran along his cheek, then stroked his forehead, smoothing his hair back. “Anytime you want to wake up would be fine with us.”
Shay, darlin’? He tried, but lifting his eyelids was just too hard. He settled for a facial twitch.
“I think he smiled. Just for a moment.” Another voice spoke. The boyish tone made Bann’s heart swell so much he swore he cracked a rib. “Dad?” A soft breath on his face, then a forehead pressed against his. “Wake up, Dad.”
To be sure, I’m trying, son.
“Can he hear us, Shay?”
“I don’t know, Cor. But, if he can, I bet he’d like to know that everything’s okay.”
Another whiff of breath, this time in his right ear. “Dad, Shay says everything’s okay. They cured you. And I’m fine. And Sam is fine. And James is trying to fix that bed thing.” A sniffle. “So wake up, okay?”
Right. Just as soon as I remember how. He tried again. The effort alone made him want to go back to sleep. But Shay was waiting. And Cor. Knowing he would chew his way back through the seven hells to reach them, he forced one eye open.
A blur of blue-black shadows and a yellow light off to one side. He peeled open the other eye and blinked. The world swam into focus. He blinked again.
He was lying in their bed, the comforter tucked up around his shoulders. Shay perched on the mattress next to him. In the glow of the bedside lamp, her hair was a royal gold mantle around her shoulders. On his other side, Cor sat cross-legged by his hip. A purple dinosaur bandage was affixed to the inside of his elbow. They both beamed at him.
He started to smile back when the memory of the last few days threatened to slam him back into oblivion. Oh, gods! The memory of striking Cor and holding a knife at Shay’s throat washed over him in a heatwave of shame.
“Oh, no you don’t, Bannerman Boru.” Shay leaned over and locked eyes with him. “You start beating yourself with that I was a monster to my family whip and I’ll kick your butt so hard, you’ll walk funny for a month.” She looked across at Cor. “How was that?”
Cor snickered. “Pretty good.”
Tempted to hang on to his guilt, but knowing that the Healer was Warrior enough to really kick his arse that hard, Bann surrendered. “Wha’ happen?” he slurred, his tongue only working at half-speed. A sharp pain zinged along the left side of his face and up into his temple. A memory poked him. “Did…did you clout me?”
“Yup.” She grinned. Rather proudly, he noted. “By the way, you’ve got a jaw like a Brahma bull.” She held up her right hand. Her wrist was immobilized with an Ace bandage, and her index finger was splinted and wrapped with white adhesive tape. “I’m lucky I only broke the one finger and sprained my wrist.”
“You should have used a club,” he rasped.
“Next time, for sure. Anyway, Orwren met us here and did her druidess thing.” Shay curled her lip. “Which, by the way, wasn’t all that impressive and hardly needed any preparation at all. She just likes to showboat. Plus, she stunk up the house with her cheap incense. It’s going to take days to air out—”
“Shay?”
“What?”
“Let it go.”
Shay blushed. “Right. So, basically, she drew blood from Cor, put a few drops of it in a fancy-shmancy goblet that had a concoction in it that looked and smelled just like root beer—no matter what Ann said—and mumbled some words in Urdu or something over it.” Bann’s lips twitched at Shay’s version of letting it go. She continued. “We dosed you with it, then put you to bed. You’ve been pretty much out of it the last few hours.”
“What time is it now?” He licked cracked lips, mouth dry.
She leaned over and picked up a glass of nettle tea. “A little after midnight.” Plunking in a drinking straw, she held it while he drank.
After a few good pulls, he nodded and sank back further on the pillow. Feeling the brew beginning to work its magic on him, he sighed in relief. “Now what?”
“Now you get your strength back.” She set the glass on the bedside table. “We’ve got a wedding to organize, a new house to
move into, and a family to grow.”
“Am I cured, then?” Probably not. Our luck never runs that way.
“You are.”
“How can you be certain?” Determined not to get his hopes up, he frowned when Shay and Cor grinned at each other.
“I’ll show you.” Cor rolled off the bed and dashed out of the room and down the hall. A metallic clang. A murmur of voices. Then, a few moments later, he came back with Sam in his arms. He placed the puppy on the bed, then climbed up after him.
Sam stood for a moment by Bann’s feet, sniffing the air. Another sniff, then his tail began to wag. Bann eased an arm from under the covers and held out his hand. Tail wagging harder, Sam walked closer. His tongue darted out for a quick lick.
“Good lad,” Bann said softly. He ran a thumb along the top of the small head, then laughed when Sam scrambled on top of him to stand nose to nose.
As Sam tried to cover the man’s face with puppy kisses, Cor hooted. “See, Dad? He’s not scared of you, which means you don’t have any of that bad stuff in you anymore.”
“Apparently.” Bann cuddled the small, warm body until Sam yawned, showing all his teeth. He handed the puppy back to his son. “Back to bed with the wee one, now.”
“You, too, short stuff,” Shay said to Cor.
Bann settled back in the pillows to watch the show.
“But Shay, I don’t want to…”
“Tough Teflon.”
“Can’t I just…”
“Nope.” Shay rose and plucked Sam from Cor’s arms. “Say goodnight to your dad.”
Scowling, Cor slid off the bed. “’Night, Dad,” he muttered, leaning in to touch foreheads with his father. The scowl shifted to a reluctant smile when Bann pulled him close for a hug.
“Codladh sumh, son. Sweet dreams.”
Bann watched Shay, with the puppy in her arms, usher the boy out of the room. Now, maybe, sweet dreams for all of us.
29
TWO WEEKS LATER, SHAY stood in the middle of the living room of their new home, looking down at Bann, sprawled on his back on the floor amidst a dozen unpacked boxes. An oriental throw rug, an early house-warming-gift-cum-wedding-gift from Sean and Jenny, still smelling like a department store, cushioned him from the wooden floor. One arm was flung across his eyes, shielding them from the morning sun shining through the east windows.
I’d join him if I didn’t have so much to do. Shay thought back to everything they had accomplished in the last two weeks—all three of them recovering from battle, selling and packing up their old home, and moving into their new one. And then had already spent the last two nights sleeping there. And, oh yeah, just to keep life from getting too boring, planning a wedding. Her heart gave a little hop-skip at the thought that tomorrow evening was their joining. Thank the Goddess we’re keeping it simple and traditional. How human couples manage their elaborate ceremonies is beyond me.
She sighed and made a face at the boxes scattered around the room. Okay. Last big chore. I need to get my new workroom set up as soon as possible. I never know when someone might need me.
The two of them had been relocating Shay’s apothecary workroom from their old house to their new one since dawn, using both vehicles and moving as quickly as they could, on Shay’s insistence that she didn’t want to be out of commission as a Healer any longer than necessary.
“Bann.” She stepped closer and nudged him in the ribs with her toe. “Help me carry the boxes to the kitchen. Then you can have the rest of the day off.”
“You said that yesterday,” Bann said from behind his arm. Pink scars, looking like ogham runes, decorated the flesh. “And the day before that. And, if I’m not mistaken, every day for the last ten or so days.” He lowered the limb and looked up at her. “I didn’t know I was marrying a tyrant.”
“Well, now you do. Up and at ’em, big guy.”
“Help me?” He held out his hand. When she took it, he pulled her down instead. Pillowing her body on his, he reached up and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. “You know, Cor will be gone all day, playing with Neill while Jenny and your mother help Ann and Hugh with the preparations. We’re all alone.” He tightened his arms around her, fingers stroking her neck and his eyes drooping in a way that always sent a thrill down her stomach and into her loins.
She took a moment to kiss him, lightly at first, then deeper, enjoying the scent of man sweat and the lingering traces of the various herbs from her apothecary collection on his hands. Before either of them escalated it into what Bann was fond of calling a “round the house and mind the dresser” romp, Shay pulled back. Reluctantly. Very reluctantly.
“As much as I’m tempted, we agreed to wait.”
“We did?”
“Yeah, we did. In fact, it was you who said we should wait until our wedding night to make love for the first time in our new home.”
“Why, I must have been still feverish with the shapeshifter’s poison when I said such a foolish thing.”
“It was just last week.”
“Oh.” Screwing up his face in an expression that was so Cor, he added, “Please, darlin’?”
“Nope.”
“Cruel.”
“Trust me—it’ll be worth the wait.” She jumped up, then grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. “Once we’re done here, we can relax the rest of the day.” She picked up the nearest box and headed for the kitchen. Glass clinked softly from the container filled with bottles of salves and potions.
Bann followed with two more. As he went back and forth, playing bearer, Shay took a moment to gaze around the kitchen. While furnished with modern appliances, the room was old-time cozy with oak cabinets, sage-green tiles on the countertops, and dark tile floors. The window over the farmhouse sink looked into the back yard and beyond to the forested foothills. Their round kitchen table sat off to one side of the spacious area. A short peninsula separated the kitchen from what was becoming the heart of the house—a family room with a fireplace. Built-in bookshelves, already half-filled, framed the fireplace that boasted handcrafted tiles in the same sage green as the kitchen. French doors led out to the redwood deck in the back yard.
On the opposite end of the kitchen, however, was Shay’s pride and joy—her apothecary. She carried the box through a narrow doorway and into a pantry that was twice the size of her old one. It was furnished with a sink and a long counter that stretched the length of the room on one side, and floor to ceiling shelves on the other. She placed the box on the counter and began unpacking the bottles.
Bann appeared in the kitchen, balancing three boxes in his arms. He lowered them carefully onto the closest counter, then dusted his hands on his shirt and joined her. “That’s the last of them.” He looked around. “Can I help you in here?”
“Nah—I’ve got this. But I’m dying for some coffee. We’ve been going since dawn.”
“Well, we were under a time limit, since the new owners are taking possession at noon. We were fortunate your house—”
“Our house.”
“—our house was in such a desirable neighborhood.” Bann ran a hand along the nearest shelf, examining the workmanship. “This is a fine place we have, Shay Doyle. I’m eager to begin our new life here. In this place. With you and Cor and our future children. And to support you in your role as our Healer so you are fulfilled as a person and a woman.”
Shay smiled at him, unable to speak around the sudden lump in her throat. Could I love this man any more than I do? Aw, he is the best—
“I read that speech in a magazine I found at Ann’s,” he said proudly.
A knock on the front door. They looked at each other.
“I’ll see to it. You keep working.” Bann disappeared. A few moments later, Shay could hear Hugh speaking to Bann as they walked back into the kitchen. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she stepped out of the pantry.
Hugh carried a tray of steaming Starbucks cups. “I thought you would enjoy some refreshm
ent.” He set the tray on the table. “And I’ve a bit of news for you two. Nothing dire,” he added hastily.
The three gathered around the table. Shay peeled the lid off and inhaled the aroma before taking an appreciative sip. “You just saved my life, Uncle.” She took another sip.
“What is your news, Hugh?” Bann asked.
The clan leader leaned back in his chair. “I spoke with Toryn Mull again this morning.”
“Is he still pissed at you?” Shay asked.
Hugh shrugged and slurped his own coffee. “He has a reason to be. As high chieftain of the clans in this region, he has the right to know if any are on the edge of war. Toryn Mull is a fair and honorable man. While he holds the autonomy of each clan sacred, he also knows that the surest way to divide us as a people is to allow for inter-tribal warfare. It almost destroyed us in the old country. He does not want to see it happen here. So, yes, he is a bit cheesed off with me for not letting him know the situation was escalating.”
“Well, it’s not like we had time to stop and make a call,” Shay pointed out. “And he should be just as mad at the Tullys, too.”
“If Weston Tully was alive, then he would be standing neck deep in the same bog with me,” Hugh said. “Which is why I’ve come this morning.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bann tense. Before she could ask, he shook his head.
“I’ve already said no, Hugh Doyle. I do not wish to be clan leader. Especially not of that clan. Let them choose a leader from among their own members.”
“It’s not that. Well, it is, but not exactly,” Hugh said with a wry expression. “It seems the other clans in the region, worried about what almost happened between the Doyles and Tullys, have petitioned Toryn Mull to formally ask you, Bann. Many of the clan leaders feel it will give a sense of unity and cohesion to all the Tuatha Dé Danaan in the area. Mull agrees; in fact, he would like to meet with you face to face to discuss it.”
“No.” Ban stared down at his coffee. “I do not want that. I have never wanted that.”
Worry worms squirmed in Shay’s stomach. She was pretty sure she knew what they were saying, but… “You’re talking about Bann taking the crown.”