Unholy Blue (13 page)

“A right ugly mob, eh, Hugh?” Bann shouted over the snarling goblins, each creature an appalling mix of not quite ape and not quite man, covered in a mossy pelt. The pack circled him and the other Knight, trapping them against a rocky outcropping. His right side creaked and burned with every breath, the ribs victims of a well-timed—or in Bann's case, an ill-timed—jackhammer of a blow from one of the beasts.

“Aye,” Hugh said. “Repulsive as the day is long.”

The older Knight's red hair and beard were dusted with the powdery remains of the pair of goblins he had knifed when they had first burst out of the woods in a
screeching horde twice the size of the group they had battled a few weeks ago. Both Knights had fought with every bit of skill and training just to stay alive. Mounds of greenish-gray ash lay scattered around the small clearing, whiffs of powder drifting from the tops of the piles like miniature volcanoes. Bann's eyes watered at the stench—
like sour vomit
—from both the living goblins and the remains of those destroyed.

Grateful for the massive boulder at his back, Bann took a moment to dry sweaty hands on his jeans. That same beast that had attacked him stood swaying from side to side a few feet away. At Bann's words, it bared its yellow teeth. Bann bared his right back.

“Is this the same pack we hunted last month, Hugh?”

“I believe so.”

“They seem a bit more aggressive this time.”

“They do, don't they?”

And more numerous
, Bann thought.
Still, better they attack us than Shay and Ann
. He watched with dismay as more goblins appeared, running ape-like with an off-center gait and using their arms as much as their legs. Shoving each other with delight over having trapped the Knights, the
Amandán
hooted and grunted as they gestured with their black-tipped fingers. Bann knew, as did every Tuatha Dé Danaan, that one touch of those fingers could deliver the killing
poc sídhe
, the fairy stroke.

Thankful he had packed his large bronze hunting knife—bronze being the only metal that destroys an
Amandán
by reducing it to a powdery ash—for its longer reach, he began chanting in a low voice, hoping the Song's words would help ease the pain so he could
concentrate on keeping himself and Hugh alive. “‘I am the vigor of man. I am the god who fires your mind.'” Warmth flooded his body, easing the pain. Somewhat.

“We seem to be drawing a crowd,” Hugh said cheerfully. Bann saw that the older Knight had not only lost his hatchet, but was favoring his left leg. He had wrenched his knee during the mad scramble to get to the safety of the outcropping.

“Aye, we have. No doubt they've come to admire our fighting skill.”

“Then we best give them a demonstration. Tho', to be sure, it needs only one of us.” Hugh wagged his weapon at the mob, which hissed and spat, but kept a blade's length away. “I'll stay and frolic with the beasties. You hurry along to tea now and—”

“Are you daft, man?” Bann joked back. His gut tightened at the sight of even more
Amandán
galloping up. He ignored it. “Why, Ann would murder me on the spot with my own blade if I returned home without you.”

“Fearful of my wife, eh?”

“That I am.”

“As you both should be.” A voice spoke from overhead.

Bleedin' hell
. Bann looked up at his worst nightmare.

Shay and Ann stood on top of the granite slab almost a dozen feet above them. Even from that distance, he could see their twin smirks. Shay waved her weapon at him in greeting; the sun glinted off the blade, flashing like the cameras of a rabble of paparazzi.

For a moment, he wished the goblins would end him.
Here and now. Better than being teased for however long it will take for Shay to get it out of her system
. Around him, the goblins eased back, the hindmost row checking for a possible attack. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few slink away and disappear into the underbrush, the branches snapping from their passage.
But not enough to make it an even fight
.

“Oh, look,” Ann called down, apparently aware of the defecting
Amandán
. “Your little friends are feeling shy, gentlemen.”

“More likely intimidated by us, Ann,” Shay pointed out.

“Ah, good point.”

Bann and Hugh exchanged glances. At that moment, a trio of bolder goblins surged forward. Jerking his head back out of harm's way, Bann whipped his blade up and around just in time to block the nearest creature's scrabbling fingers. In a moist
snick
, the digits flew off over the heads of the next row of assailants. The
Amandán
managed a single shriek before it exploded into a cloud of ashy remains. Bann dropped to one knee, and the second goblin's paw whistled past his head, ruffling his hair. With a shout, he stabbed upward. The impact of bronze puncturing flesh and muscle and bone sent a zing through his arm into his shoulder as he buried the weapon in the beast's chest. He ripped it free, then threw himself to one side to avoid both the next wave of attackers and a face full of goblin remains. Even as he scrambled to his feet, Hugh was finishing off the third goblin, cursing the creature's mother's lineage the entire time in Gaelic. The rest of the pack milled about, the
back row urging the front row to attack, while the front row snapped back a goblin's version of
go screw yourself
.

“Need some help?” Shay called.

“Not a bit.” Chest heaving, Bann spat to one side, mouth burning from the vile taste. “You stay safe up there.”

“Are you sure?” Ann asked. “Hugh, my love—you seem to be limping.”

“Simply a strategy to lull these beasties into a false—” He shouted in frustration when another goblin lunged at him. A thrust. A shriek. Another cloud of stink.

Guarding Hugh's off-arm, Bann took a moment to glance up. The outcropping was empty.
Damn them to seven hells!
He wasn't sure if he was more angry that they had left the safety of the rock, or that they were coming to rescue him and Hugh. “We've a problem.” He nudged the other Knight and pointed upward.

“You would think,” Hugh growled, “that they would allow us the dignity of our manhood to perish in battle.”

“You would think.” Bann said through gritted teeth as he slashed at another goblin. He missed when it jerked clear. “Damn.”

At that moment, the goblins all stiffened. Heads swiveling, they scanned the surrounding woods, ears pricked and noses sniffing. Their mossy fur bristled, giving them a puffy appearance. The Knights laughed.

“They look like frightened cats.” Bann gestured with his weapon.

“Or giant Chia pets come to life,” Hugh responded. “Perhaps they would like a trim. A bit off the—”

“
Faugh a ballagh
!”

The ancient battle cry of the Celts, the one adopted centuries later by Irish soldiers, echoed through the woods. In spite of everything, Bann's chest swelled with pride at the sound.
Aye. “Clear the Way.” For the wrath of the daughters of the war goddess Danu is about to descend on your arses, ye manky beasties
.

Spooked, the
Amandán
whirled around. Side by side, Bann and Hugh stabbed the backs of the nearest beasts, ripped their blades free, and stabbed again. The air grew thick with goblin ash. Almost blinded and choking, Bann stabbed and thrust and slashed at the green wall of fur. He lost sight of Hugh, although he could hear the other Knight shouting.

The goblins began melting away. Blinking through burning eyes, Bann peered past the remaining ones. He spotted Shay fighting the largest
Amandán
he had ever seen; it was a head or more taller than Bann himself. She looked like a child in comparison as she danced around it, her movements light and airy and almost playful, and always just out of reach of paws the size of catcher's mitts. Her blade flickered like a snake's tongue as she kissed the beast's fur with it over and over. Howls of pain and frustration filled the air, along with the reek of burnt hair.
Why, she's not even trying to land a blow
.

“Shay! Stop mucking about and stab the bleedin' thing!” Without waiting for her to do that very thing, he lowered a shoulder and charged. Hitting the beast was like hitting the side of a draft horse. Fey and goblin bounced off each other. Staggering back a step, Bann recovered his balance, then charged again, knife raised for the killing stroke. With a speed that belied its size, the beast darted to one side, then turned and bolted.
Most of the pack followed, the smaller goblins taking two strides for every one of the giant's.

“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.

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.”