Unholy Blue Read online

“—he wouldn’t be placing you in danger.”

  Realizing her mother wasn’t bothering to keep her voice down, Shay took her elbow and pulled her to the far end of the kitchen. “Look. I understand that you have some issues with Bann. But I really wish you’d move past them and get to know him, and Cor, before you make any more judgments.”

  At that moment, Neill and Cor trotted into the kitchen and made a beeline for the refrigerator. Cor flashed a grin at her.

  Hoping he hadn’t heard their conversation, Shay pasted a smile on her face. “What are you guys up to?”

  “Snack.” Neill opened the fridge.

  After a few minutes of discussion, they selected a couple of cheese sticks. Using them as knives, they began poking each other even as they raced out of the room. Shay noticed with pride that Cor scored two hits on Neill before they disappeared. Their voices faded, but not before Shay heard Cor shout at Neill to “eat bronze, ye manky beast.”

  “See?” She waved a hand at the empty doorway. “Won’t it be nice for Neill to have a cousin—”

  “Step-cousin,” Isobel corrected.

  “—a cousin his own age,” Shay said through gritted teeth. “Jeez, why are you being this way?”

  Isobel lifted her eyebrows. “Because I have the right to worry about my children. Your father died hunting a simple-minded goblin. And you want to take on a shapeshifter, just because that man—”

  “His name is Bann!” Spit flew from Shay’s mouth.

  At that moment, the man in question appeared in the doorway, carrying his iron knife, the blade as long as his forearm. He nodded politely to the women and headed for the drawer where Hugh stored his whetstone and oil. A moment later, the room was filled with the sweesh-sweesh of iron on oiled stone. Shay’s heart sank when he spoke, eyes fixed on his task.

  “My apologies for overhearing your conversation.” Sweesh-sweesh. “But, Shay, I must admit that I agree with your mother—it would be best if you stayed safe behind these walls and minded Cor while I hunt Cernunnos.”

  For a moment, Shay couldn’t speak. Betrayal swelled in her throat, trapping the words behind it. What the hell? How can he side with her? It didn’t help when her mother turned to her with a smirk of triumph. “You can’t be serious—”

  “In fact,” Bann continued, eyes fixed on his task, “I’ve decided to make some necessary changes, since we’re to be wed. For certain, you will cease being a Healer.”

  Shay’s jaw sagged. Shock made her dim-witted.

  “Wait.” Isobel’s glee faded. “You…you want Shay to give up her profession?”

  “She’ll not have time for it, as she’ll be busy caring for our home and children.” Bann paused and held up the knife, eyes narrowed as he examined the edge of the blade. “There’s no need for her to work outside the house.”

  Shay finally figured out how to get her brain and mouth to work. But before she could speak, her mother jumped in. No surprise there.

  “A bit extreme, wouldn’t you say? My daughter has worked hard to become as skilled as she is, and we need a Healer. More than that, it’s who she is.”

  Retrieving her voice from wherever it had stepped out for coffee, Shay bit down on each word. “How dare you—”

  “You said yourself, Isobel Doyle.” Bann overrode Shay. Again. Which was really starting to piss her off. “That if I really cared about my betrothed, I would do everything in my power to keep her safe. I am simply agreeing with you. That is why I will not allow her to step foot out of our home without me to guard her.”

  “There’s a wide difference,” Isobel said, “between safeguarding and stifling. She needs to have a life outside of her marriage.”

  “Excuse me!” Shay waved her hand between them. “In case you two haven’t noticed, I’m standing right. Here. And I don’t appreciate being talked about like I’m a house plant.”

  Bann stilled. He laid his knife on the counter in a studied manner, wiped his hands on his jeans, then turned. Something in his stance and the expression on his face made Shay hold back her next words.

  “Aye, you’re right. There is a difference between safeguarding and stifling.” He locked eyes with Isobel. “Which is why I will never stand in her way, but I will always stand by her side.”

  Isobel’s lips tightened. “You think you’re the clever one—twisting my words around. You know what I meant. A fancy speech is not going to keep her safe.” Without another word, she stalked out of the kitchen.

  14

  DID SHE UNDERSTAND WHAT I was trying to do? Waiting near the back gate of the clan leaders’ yard, but far enough away to not feel the buzz from the wards, Bann adjusted the pair of sheaths on his belt. One held his iron knife—the same weapon that had destroyed the Stag Lord—and the other, a bronze knife. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes, rolling his neck and trying to loosen muscles knotted with the tension from fighting a war on two fronts. The mid-morning sun was yellow-white in the flawless blue sky, and helped balance the chill of the November day—he could feel the solar warmth, like a kiss, on his face.

  The kitchen door opened. He tensed. Here we go.

  Shay appeared, talking over her shoulder to someone while she pulled on her fleece jacket. With a final word, she started across the yard. She not only carried an iron and a bronze weapon, but better yet, she wore her usual cheerful expression. His body relaxed.

  “It’ll be just another minute. Rory can’t decide on a weapon. And James is setting up a computer game for the boys,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Bann played along. “What sort of game?”

  “Knowing James, some kind of lame educational thing.” She zipped up her jacket, then glanced back at the house. “Okay, before the guys get here, I want to say something.”

  “About the words I spoke to your mother?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “You understand I dinna mean them.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Of course not. I was trying to make a point about—”

  “Bummer.” Her nose wrinkled, charming Bann all over again. “I really dug the whole ‘I will never stand in her way, but I will always stand by her side’ speech.”

  Gods, I love this woman. “Ah. Well. Those words were true. The others were simply for effect.” He pulled her into his embrace.

  Her own arms wrapped around his torso, she leaned back far enough to look him in the face. “She still has reservations about you.”

  Something in Shay’s expression forced him to make the offer. “If you wish to postpone…” He held his breath.

  “No way. You’re not getting out of it that easily. It’s going to take more than that”—she cocked her head toward the house—“to call off our marriage, big guy.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just two things, actually.”

  “And those are?”

  “Either your death or mine.” Reaching up, she pushed that errant lock of hair off his forehead. Then she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his.

  “Are you two going to make out the entire hunt?” Rory said.

  Bann glanced past Shay. James and Rory were strolling toward them. Rory was flipping an iron hatchet into the air as he walked, catching it neatly by the handle with each rotation. While James wore a double sheath like Bann and Shay, Rory was packing a bronze blade on one hip.

  “Maybe.” Shay shrugged. “Why? You want some pointers?” Grinning, she stepped out of Bann’s arms and led the way to the gate.

  There, they waited. And waited. And waited some more.

  “Oh, for the love of Danu.” James cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed. “Hugh! Anytime!”

  A few moments later, Hugh came hurrying out the door and across the lawn. “Sorry. I was replacing a pile of weapons someone,” he glared at Rory, “left scattered across the floor of the basement.” He jiggled the latch, pushed the gate open, and waved them through, then lingered in the open gateway as they spread out, looking for tracks.


  “Here.” Bann squatted. He touched the tip of his blade to a paw print in the dirt, then held a splayed hand over it, measuring it. “A bit large for a coyote.”

  “Damn. The kid was right.” Rory shook his head. “I guess I owe him an apology.”

  Bann rose, following the tracks with his eyes as they led westward. Nothing between here and the foothills but forest.

  “Good hunting, all,” Hugh said, looking like a kid still hoping he’d be picked for dodgeball even after the game had begun. “And watch your backs.”

  “Right.” Bann started off, the others behind him. The gate closed with a thump.

  Using every bit of skill he had—which, in all honesty, is not much—he tracked along, following the prints as they detoured around a stand of pines, then up a hill until they merged onto a well-used deer trail. The mix of paw and hoof prints made the scars on his stomach throb anew. Shaking off foreboding, he checked back and grunted in approval when he saw Shay and the younger Knights walking to one side so as not to erase the prints.

  After twenty minutes of stealing with a hunter’s care through the thick underbrush, all the while trying not to lose the shapeshifter’s trail, he spoke over his shoulder. “We’re getting close to the place where Hugh and I ran across that mob of goblins last week.”

  “Ran across? Don’t you mean the we were attacked, surrounded, and had to be rescued place?”

  “I don’t recall it that way.” Bann lengthened his stride. Behind him, he could hear Shay’s chuckle.

  After fifteen more minutes of steady uphill climbing through dry undergrowth that was determined to slow them down by sheer density, Bann swore, then stopped. “Damn. I’ve lost the trail. Any of you want to give it a go?”

  “We sure could use Max,” Rory said absently, whacking at the vegetation crowding them with his hatchet. A small sapling died at his hands.

  “Well, at least it’s a nice day for a hike.” Shay unzipped her fleece and looked up at the sky. “We’re not going to have too many more mild days like this before winter…” Her voice trailed off. “Oh, shit,” she muttered.

  Bann looked up.

  Crows circled silently above them.

  “Amandán!” Bann whirled around, pulling his bronze blade free, shoving the iron one into the empty sheath. “Quickly! Back to back!” For a split second, he wished he had his old bronze weapon, currently in Isobel’s possession.

  Shay took a stance on his right, eyes scanning the woods and knife at the ready. Behind him, Rory was complaining about having just done laundry for the first time in two weeks.

  “You should see the looks I get when I go to the laundromat. I don’t know if it’s because of the goblin ash on everything or—”

  “Shut up, Rory,” Shay snapped. “I’m trying to listen.”

  “You’d do better to smell for them,” James said from Bann’s left side. “They stink like something died in—”

  “Shut yer yaps. All of ye.” Bann growled in unconscious imitation of his old master. It’s like hunting with a gaggle of—A twig snapped.

  Then the woods around them exploded in goblins.

  The first creature leaped out of the underbrush with a gibbering screech that always reminded Shay of dueling tomcats, its black-tipped fingers scrabbling for her face. She jerked her head back, as much to evade the stench as to avoid its deadly touch. It kept grabbing for her, trying to land one of its paws on her face or head. To land the poc sídhe, the Amandán’s killing touch—the touch that had given her father a brain aneurysm and ended his life on a lone hunt.

  Darting to one side, she swung, the blade whistling, and caught the creature on the arm, the kiss of bronze singeing its fur. The goblin shrieked, lips stretched wide in agony; the stench from its mouth, combined with the smell of burnt hair, marred the sweetness of the autumnal air. Holding her breath and taking advantage of the beast’s pain, she lunged forward and stabbed it in the chest. With a poof, the Amandán burst into a cloud of gray-green powder. Squinting through burning eyes, Shay spat to one side.

  Nearby, Bann was fighting a pair, his blade winking in the sun as it darted between the two beasts. Even as she started forward to help, he destroyed first one, then another, then spun on his toes, and planted his knife in another goblin threatening Rory. Damn, but Bann’s fast, especially for a guy his size, she thought with a proprietary smugness. The rest of the pack faded back.

  “What the hell, Bann!” Rory flung his arms apart. “I had that one!”

  “Sorry,” Bann said, clearly not sorry at all.

  Shay spat again and wiped her mouth, trying not to gag from the salty-sour taste. “Why do you want to bring that weapon—”

  Before she could move, Bann shouted something, then shoved her. Hard. Her feet left the ground. Airborne, she could actually see the ground sliding under her shoes. A moment later, she slammed into something solid and rough, her head bouncing against it so hard, she was surprised her teeth didn’t tumble free of her gums. The pain took a split second to catch up, but when it joined her, she thought she would pass out.

  And then, she did.

  She floated in the blackness, the motion rocking her. At first, it was comforting, but then it grew rougher, causing her head, which hurt like crap, to jiggle up and down, and threatened to pop off the top of her skull. Even though she tried to stifle it, a groan escaped her lips. The traitorous bastard.

  The motion stopped. “Oh, Shay.” A deep voice, full of fear and remorse and anger. Classic Bann. “We’re almost home, darlin’.”

  Opening her eyes was the hardest thing she had ever done. The world swam in and out of focus. She blinked, unable to do more than squint, and looked up to find Bann gazing down at her. His brows were pinched together and goblin ash coated one side of his face. She realized he was carrying her. James’s face appeared next to Bann’s, looking just as worried. If that was possible.

  “How’s she doing?” James asked. He was holding a cell phone to his ear.

  “Half-awake.”

  She could feel the rumble in Bann’s chest as he spoke. The rocking motion started up again—Bann walking. Meanwhile, James was speaking to an invisible person; his words faded in and out like an old-time radio.

  “…another pack, Hugh… Rory’s trying to hold them off… No, Bann can’t fight and carry Shay… That’s right, the deer trail that runs west from…”

  Shay’s lids sagged, as if tiny fingers were tugging them shut, in spite of her best effort to keep them open. The blackness returned.

  The next thing she knew, voices were arguing from somewhere over her head; she thought she heard Ann snapping orders. The bobbing motion stopped. A pause. Then she fell down in slow motion onto something soft.

  I can float! When did I learn to do that?

  Hands rolled her to her side, the movement making her slightly nauseous, and started up the throbbing in her head again. Bile burned her throat.

  “Shay?” Bann’s voice was a whisper and a breath of warm air in her ear. Fingers traced her cheek. She pried up her eyelids, then winced at the needles stabbing her temples.

  Bann’s face was inches from her. She blinked. The world swung into focus again, a little sharper this time. He was kneeling next to her. She was lying on the bed in the guest room she always used when she stayed at her aunt and uncle’s.

  “Wha’ happen’?” Her mouth didn’t seem to want to work.

  “We were attacked by Amandán, remember? Several got through our defenses. I-I pushed you out of harm’s way.” Lines deepened around his mouth. “And into a tree.”

  Knowing he was beating himself up, Shay forced a grin. “You could’ve just yelled ‘duck’ or something.” She took a cautious breath, then stiffened when the pain reminded her that it was still around. “How bad?”

  “You’ve a nice lump on the back of your head,” Ann said from behind her. Gentle fingers parted her hair. “And a bit of a gash, but not serious enough for sutures.”

  “Concussion. A s
light laceration on the scalp.” Shay murmured. “And a guilt-ridden future husband.”

  Ann patted her shoulder. “I’ll get the first-aid stuff. Be right back.” She walked around the bed and out the door.

  Feeling less woozy, Shay cautiously lifted her head from the pillow, then grimaced and laid it back down again. “Where is everyone?” When Bann didn’t answer, her heart lurched. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Aye. Rory and James went back out after that pack, Hugh along with them. It was the same beasts we fought last week. It seems they wanted to settle the score.”

  “Was that big goblin with them?”

  “No, but then, I wasn’t paying much attention.” Guilt darkened his face again.

  Knowing he would continue to whip himself unless distracted, Shay asked the right question. “Where’s Cor?”

  “Your mother and Sean and Jenny had taken the children out for luncheon; they left while we were hunting. They’re still gone.”

  Footsteps. The familiar earthy-minty aroma of sláinte nettle drifted into the room, followed a moment later by Ann. She carried a tray containing a steaming bowl of the potion, a small plastic bag of ice, some cloths tucked under one arm, and a mug of tea. “I would have brought Bann a shot of whiskey, but there wasn’t any room on the tray,” she joked.

  As her aunt doctored the wound, Shay held Bann’s hand, more to give him comfort than herself. She sucked in a breath as Ann held a potion-soaked rag against the bump, then sighed in relief as the brew numbed the injury. “Oh, that feels better already,” she murmured. She locked gazes with Bann. “So get off the guilt train already.”

  Clearly, Bann wasn’t ready to disembark. “I’m so sorry, love. I dinna mean to hurt ye.”

  “Of course you didn’t. And if the roles had been reversed, what would you be saying to me right now? ‘Oh, well done, Shay Doyle,’” she said, deepening her voice and mimicking his brogue. “‘Ye saved me life with that shove. Why, I would be dead right now if it were not for yer swift action and strong right shoulder.’ Am I right?”

  “This is different—”