Finn Finnegan Read online

  Finn leaped backward just in time. He dodged around the Amandán as it lunged for him again. I got to keep it away from Rafe and Savannah! He dove for a fallen branch lying on the ground. Rolling to his feet, he came up swinging and aimed a blow at the goblin’s head. The branch whistled through empty air as the Amandán ducked.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the Steels standing almost nose to nose, still arguing, unaware of the goblin. The Amandán laughed. With one last glance at his friends, Finn threw the branch at his foe. “Come and get me, ugly,” he shouted, then turned and plunged into the woods.

  Fifteen

  Branches lashed at Finn as he tore through the underbrush, one arm bent before his face, shielding his eyes. The tore bounced against his collar bone. Dead vegetation crunched underfoot, almost drowning out the Amandán’s raspy breathing as it chased after him. Not daring to look back, he angled further away from the path. Once, he stumbled when he snagged his toes on an exposed root. Wind-milling his arms, he managed to stay on his feet. He cried out as the creature’s fingers snagged the back of his tee shirt. With a desperate lunge, he jerked free.

  Wheezing for air, he burst out of the copse of trees and raced across the adjoining soccer field. The thud of pursuing feet echoed the pounding of his heart. His legs and lungs burning, he began chanting. “‘I am a wind on the sea’.” Each syllable was a puff of air.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then, swiftness poured into his legs like a river in springtime flood. Lengthening his stride, he sped up, the goblin’s footsteps fading behind him. As he flew along, the wind blew his hair off his forehead. He laughed from relief and risked a peek backwards.

  And tripped over a sprinkler head.

  Finn slammed, shoulder first, into the ground, one arm twisted beneath him. Searing pain shot along his wrist. Breathless from the hurt, he rolled over. He scrabbled backward on his elbows and heels, certain the goblin was right on top of him. Panting, he looked around.

  The park was empty.

  “Finn!”

  His pulse thundering in his ears, Finn shook his hair out of his eyes. The twins ran toward him, Savannah in the lead, braids flying. Holding his wrist, he staggered to his feet just as they skidded to a halt in front of him.

  “What the heck was that all about?” Rafe said. “We thought we saw someone chasing you through the trees.”

  Savannah looked around. “Yeah, and where’d they go?”

  Cradling his left arm, Finn shrugged, then grimaced, the injured limb protesting the movement. “Aw, it was just some lady. She said she lost her dog and then she freaked out and started running after me.”

  “Well, maybe she thought you had it, or something.” Rafe shook his head. “But talk about overreacting.”

  Savannah narrowed her eyes as she studied Finn’s face and the way he held his arm. “You look kinda pale. Well, more pale than usual. Maybe Mom should check your wrist. You might have sprained it, or even broken it.”

  Ignoring the throbbing pain, Finn let go of his arm. “Naw, I’m good. It’s feeling better already.” He leaned over and brushed the grass off his jeans with his good hand, trying to act nonchalant, Last thing I need is Dr. Steel fussing over me. She’d probably tell Gideon and then all you-know-what would break loose. He checked his watch. “Look, I better get back. I need to finish some stuff. Um … thanks anyway. I’ll see you around.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Finn turned and headed home. Maybe this is why Gideon didn’t want me to have humans as friends, he thought as he walked along, his wrist aching more and more with every step. I just put them in danger. Made them targets for the goblin, too. Still, it would’ve been nice to get to hang out with Rafe once in a while.

  After a few yards, he tensed at the swish of running feet behind him. Before he could turn around, Rafe and Savannah had caught up with him. They slowed and flanked him on either side.

  “Not so fast.” Rafe thumped Finn on the shoulder, ignoring his gasp of pain. He strolled along, matching Finn’s stride “Do you really think we’re going to let you walk home alone after some crazy lady chases you clear across the park?”

  “And with a possible broken wrist,” Savannah added. “Sorry, Finn, but we’re not buying your tough guy routine.” She smiled up at him.

  He ducked his head and grinned.

  “Later!” After a final wave, Finn hurried up the walk to his house. Unlocking the door one-handed, he slipped inside and nudged it closed with his heel. He wiped the sweat off his forehead in relief. Ye gods, talk about relentless. Good thing I finally convinced Savannah that I was okay.

  I don’t think it’s broken, but it sure hurts like heck. He tried moving it, hissing at the stabbing pain shooting up his arm. What am I going to tell Gideon?

  He walked into the living room. Toeing off his shoes, he kicked them aside and flopped onto the worn sofa. With a groan, he slouched further down and stared at the stone fireplace.

  Three times, he thought. That’s three times I’ve been ambushed by an Amandán. Is that normal? If I ask Gideon about it, then he’ll know I took off with Rafe and Savannah.

  Lifting his eyes, he gazed at the weapons above the mantel. I’ve got to come up with some way of telling Amandán from mortals. Digging into a pocket with his good hand, he slipped out his father’s stone and held it up between thumb and forefinger as he gazed at its creamy surface.

  “Ye know, it would be bleedin’ helpful if ye worked for me.” Making a face, he tucked it away. Great, he thought, glancing at the Knight’s desk tucked in the corner. Now, I’m starting to sound like him.

  With a weary sigh, he toppled over onto his right side. Curling up, he shoved a pillow against his stomach and rested the injured arm on it, then closed his eyes. I’m glad I was able to lead it away from Rafe and Savannah. I’ve got be careful around them. Especially with the increasing attacks. No matter what, I’m carrying my knife next time I’m with them. He yawned, then smiled to himself as his eyes shut. And there’ll be a next time.

  Gideon stood in the middle of the living room, a puzzled expression on his face as he watched Finn sleep. I did not think the chore list was that tiresome, he thought. He stepped closer and frowned as he noticed the boy’s left arm. And just how hard were you punching that bag? Taking a seat on the nearby coffee table, he patted his apprentice’s knee. “Wake up, boyo.”

  Finn blinked and looked around blearily. “What’s wrong?” he said, in confusion. He sat up gingerly, trying to tame his rumpled hair with his good hand.

  “I should ask ye.” Leaning over, Gideon slid a hand under Finn’s swollen wrist, supporting the boy’s arm as he peered at it. “Boxing a bit too enthusiastically?”

  “Uh…yeah. I guess I went after it pretty hard.”

  Gideon flexed Finn’s wrist a few times, and raised an eyebrow at Finn’s yelp. “It’s just a sprain, ye wee baby,” he teased. “And ye call yerself a De Danaan—maybe I should take that tore back.” He released Finn’s arm and rose. “We’ll apply a cooling poultice, and then I’ll wrap it for ye. T’will be right as rain by tomorrow.” He headed for the kitchen, the apprentice on his heels.

  While Finn took a seat at the kitchen table, Gideon soaked a rag in a wide-mouthed jar of slainte nettle brew he kept in the refrigerator. “Keep the cloth draped around yer wrist until ‘tis no longer cold,” Gideon instructed him as he bustled around preparing sandwiches. Carrying lunch to the table, he handed one of the plates to Finn and joined him. “By the way, I’ve a bit of news for ye.” He took a bite of his roast beef sandwich, and grunted with approval as he licked mustard off his thumb.

  “We’re getting a computer?” Finn’s face lit up. “Finally! Even sharing with my cousins was better than—” He stopped when Gideon shook his head.

  “Ye know how tight our budget is. The value of gold is low right now, so our monthly stipend is low. Once the global market for gold picks up, we’ll look into getting one, eh?”

  Finn nodded
. He scooped up a handful of potato chips and shoved them into his mouth. “So, how does that work?” he asked, crumbs sputtering out of his mouth. “I mean, do we really get a pile of gold each month?”

  “Finnegan MacCullen! For the hundredth time, do not speak whilst eating! Ye gods, it’s like living with a feral child. I should just tie ye up to a post in the backyard and feed ye out of a bowl on the ground.” He shook his head when Finn burst out laughing, choking on his food and spewing even more crumbs.

  “Now, to answer yer question, all De Danaan receive a set amount of funds deposited into their bank accounts each month from a common reserve. That reserve is based on gold accumulated from trade as well as plunder in the ancient days. Mac Roth believes that’s where the Irish legend of the leprechaun’s pot of gold at the end of the rainbow might have come from.”

  “But we’re Tuatha De Danaan. Fey, not leprechauns.”

  “Aye, but mortals have twisted and blended truth and legend so much that very few, if any, humans know or understand that other beings share this world.”

  Finn began to speak, then stopped and stuffed the last of the sandwich in his mouth. Careful to swallow before talking, he asked. “So, what was the news?”

  “Mac Roth and Asher will be hunting more often with us.”

  He made a face. “Why?”

  Gideon gazed across the table for a moment, his eyes glancing at the tore around Finn’s neck, and then down to his injured arm. “For protection.”

  “Protection?”

  “Aye. With the beasties becoming bolder, there is safety in numbers.” He rose. Gathering the empty plates, he placed them in the sink and began running the water. Speaking over his shoulder, he added, “So, we’ve decided to band together. That way, Mac Roth and I can hunt more productively and provide additional supervision for ye two hooligans.” He flipped a towel over one arm and started to wash, then raised his eyebrows when Finn joined him, elbowing him aside.

  “I got it. I made that promise, remember?” Finn explained. He paused at Gideon’s look of astonishment. “What?”

  “Why, nothing. Nothing at all.” The Knight smiled to himself and draped the towel over Finn’s shoulder. “Keep yer injured wrist out of the warm water if ye can.”

  “Yes, sir.” Finn grinned when Gideon cuffed him affectionately, his hand lingering on the boy’s head for a moment.

  “Good lad.”

  “Right. Grip it tight, now,” Gideon instructed. He began pounding in another nail, anchoring a narrow strip of bronze sheeting to the window sill. The twonk-twonk of each hammer strike rebounded off the glass pane and echoed around their front porch.

  Standing shoulder to shoulder with his master, Finn held the metal in place with his good hand. As Gideon worked, Finn watched him out of the corner of his eye.

  Stripped down to a white tee shirt, the Knight swung the hammer with short, controlled strikes, his brows drawn together in concentration. Finn studied the muscles in Gideon’s arms, then glanced down at his own and made a face. I wonder if I should start lifting weights or something. I look like a drawing of a stick figure.

  “So, how long did it take to get that?” he asked, gesturing with his chin at Gideon’s tattoo.

  “Twelve years and one hour,” Gideon said, around the extra nail held between his teeth.

  “T-twelve years?”

  “The length of my apprenticeship, plus the hour it took the druid to mark me.”

  “Can I get one when I finish my apprenticeship?” I’ll have a tattoo like my da, he thought. And Gideon, too, a quiet voice added.

  Gideon spat the nail into his palm before answering. “Aye. If ye can abide the prick of the thorn.”

  Finn’s eyes bulged. “A thorn?” To his embarrassment, his voice cracked.

  Gideon nodded, his attention on the task. “If yer going to carry the mark of Knighthood, ye should be tattooed in the old way.” He swung the hammer again. “There. That was the last one.” Thunder rumbled overhead as an afternoon storm built up over the western mountains.

  “Will this really stop the Amandán from getting inside the house?” Finn stepped back to the edge of the porch, studying the pair of windows next to the front entrance. “Because it looks totally stupid. Especially the door.”

  Gideon wiped the sweat from his face with the hem of his tee shirt. “Nonsense. This is going to be the next home decorating trend,” he said, tossing the hammer into the toolbox with a clang. “Why, soon everyone will be framing their windows in bronze as well as sheathing their doors with it.” He glanced down the path. “By the way, well done on the gate. Clever solution to—” He stopped, staring at the three figures approaching from across the street. “Now, what would they be wanting?” he muttered, walking down the steps.

  Finn spun around at the Knight’s comment. Oh, no—not now, Rafe. He plucked nervously at the elastic bandage wrapped around his left wrist.

  “Hey, Finn!” Rafe called, as they drew nearer. “My dad wanted to meet you and ask you about that woman that chased you.”

  “And to make sure your arm was okay,” Savannah added.

  The twins’ father stepped forward. “Hello, Gideon. Good to see you again.” He shook hands with the reluctant De Danaan, trying not to stare at the bronze-covered door behind Finn. “And you must be Finn MacCullen, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Finn said through stiff lips, frozen in place on the porch.

  The Knight cleared his throat. “How might I be of service, Rufus?”

  Rufus Steel smiled, draping an arm around Savannah’s shoulders. “Oh, I just wanted to stop by and check on Finn. And I was wondering if he could tell me more about what happened at the park this morning?”

  “Beg pardon—the park? This morning?”

  “Yes, when he and my children went to the store for sodas.”

  Gideon stiffened. Without turning his head, he spoke over his shoulder. “Come.” The Knight pointed the ground next to his right side. “Here.”

  I am so screwed, Finn thought, as he started down the steps.

  Sixteen

  The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: June 20

  Day one hundred and sixty-two of my captivity…

  Gideon would call that hyperbole.

  I’m serving prison time. In my room. I think I’m grounded until the autumn equinox, but it was hard to understand him. When Gideon’s really angry, his accent goes off the scale! At least he didn’t blow up in front of Rafe and Savannah—he waited until they left.

  Mr. Steel’s a science teacher, not a policeman or anything. So, I don’t understand why he kept asking me if I felt safe in the neighborhood, and if anyone had ever chased me before.

  Gee, Mr. Steel. Do ugly, smelly goblins that want to scramble my brains inside of my skull count as unsafe?

  What I Learned Today:

  Omission of the truth is a falsehood, according to Gideon. By sneaking off with Rafe and Savannah after he told me no, and by letting him believe that I hurt myself boxing instead of escaping an Amandán, it was like lying to him.

  Don’t think I’ll be making that mistake again!

  It’s weird.

  I really, really want to be friends with Rafe and Savannah. (Mostly Rafe. Savannah’s okay for a girl.) And I thought I was cool with disobeying Gideon about it. I mean, being buds with Rafe can’t hurt anyone.

  Not if I’m careful.

  But I really, really want Gideon to trust me. To think I’m a good apprentice.

  To like me. And not just because I’m his apprentice.

  But to like me.

  It’s late. Almost midnight. Still raining, but not as hard.

  Gideon’s not back yet.

  He went hunting by himself in the park where that goblin chased me today. Headed over there right after dark to try to pick up its trail and track it.

  What if there’s more than one Amandán? What if he’s hurt right now, out in this storm, and I’m just sitting around?

  That’s it—I’m out o
f here!!!

  Finn closed the journal with a clap. Jumping up, he fished his shoes out from under the desk and shoved his feet into them, hopping on one foot, then the other, as he tied them. He flexed his wrist a few times. Not too bad, I guess. He hurried from the room and down the stairs to the living room. Halting in front of the weapon rack, he selected a knife. “Hmm, I better take an extra,” he muttered, grabbing a second one. He thrust one into his belt at his hip and the other in the sheath, then took a deep breath and headed toward the front door. Grabbing his hoodie from the coat hook, he tugged it on and slipped outside.

  Breaking into a jog, he pulled the hood up against the rain and glanced around the neighborhood. He splashed along, hunching his shoulders each time the lightning cracked. Finn couldn’t help noticing the lit windows of the other houses on the street. All those humans. Safe inside their homes. And none of them know about our war with the Amandán. I wonder if any one of them would even help us.

  Reaching the edge of the park, he slowed down and pushed the hood back. Panting, he listened intently as he tried to slow his breathing. A faint shout jerked his head around. He squinted as he peered through the storm at the far side of the park.

  A beam of light danced about, illuminating the inside of the open-air pavilion. On top of one of the picnic tables, a familiar figure held a moonstone high in one hand as he swung a blade at the shapes rampaging below

  “Gideon,” Finn whispered. He watched in horror as one of the Amandán leaped up on the table behind the Knight. Before he could shout a warning, his master twisted around and buried his blade in its chest. The goblin disappeared in a silent explosion of gray powder.

  Finn sprinted across the park. Two left, he thought as he ran, water spraying out from under his feet. We can handle two. I just got to get up there with him. The fear of arriving too late nipped at his heels.

  When he reached the edge of the pavilion, the light vanished. Finn blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Chest heaving, he pressed himself against one of the thick concrete posts holding up the roof and wiped the rain from his face, then slipped a knife out of his belt. I’ve got to time this just right. Make a run for the table when those monsters aren’t looking. He waited, bouncing on his toes as he studied the distance between himself and the picnic bench.