Unholy Blue (20 page)

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 slight 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—”

“And your next words better be: ‘Aye. You're right'.”

A corner of Bann's mouth twitched. “Aye. Ye're right,” he relented.

“Shay?” Ann patted her hip. “All done. Here, Bann.” She handed him the mug. “Help her drink some tea while I clean up.” Reloading the tray, Ann started out of the room, then paused. “And that offer of whiskey still stands.”

“Thank you, but no. I best keep my wits clear.”

“Isobel?”

Bann nodded. With a knowing look, Ann left.

Already feeling less like roadkill and more like herself, Shay sat up and took the mug. As she sipped the
healing potion, he disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the
whoosh
of running water, then he reappeared, face and hands somewhat clean. Worry continued to tighten the skin around his eyes. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

“Bann, I'm
fine
. Sheesh, you're going to fret yourself into an early grave.”

He perched gingerly on the edge of the mattress next to her. “Seeing you lying on the ground was a nightmare.” At that moment, muted voices floated up from the main level, followed by the thud of the front door closing.

“I bet that's Mom and the others.” Shay made a face. “Man, she's going to love this. Gives her a reason to hammer the hell out of her point.”

“Perhaps your mother is right. Since we've met, you've been in constant danger.”

“So? Making a life with you and Cor is totally worth it, so shut up. You're not going down that path again.” She took another sip, then chugged the rest of the potion. Tingling warmth, like room-temperature soda, spread outward from her stomach to the rest of her body, easing the pain and healing bumps and bruises.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Cor burst into the room, wide-eyed and panting from his sprint. He skidded to a halt when he spotted them both sitting calmly on the bed. Bann reached out a hand and drew the boy between his knees.

“Are you okay?” Cor asked, a slight tremor in his voice. Shay's heart wrenched, as it always did when she heard that tone. She knew he had lived every day for a year with the fear that something would happen to his
father and that he would be alone in the world.
Maybe our marriage can make his world just a little more secure. Don't you know, Cormac Boru, that not just me, but the entire Doyle clan, will always be there for you?

“Oh, just a bump and a scratch on the head, kiddo.”

“Was it…?”

“Just some goblins. I, um, sort of ran into a tree.”

“Ann said Dad saved you.”

Shay smiled and laid her hand over Cor's. “You know your dad. He's always rescuing someone.” She leaned closer to her almost-son, ignoring the throb of pain, and whispered. “Do you think maybe he's a superhero in disguise? Like Spider-Man?”