Unholy Blue (4 page)

“With your permission, Bann?” Hugh rose and beckoned Cor. “This, I must see.”

“We'll all go.” Shay pushed her plate to one side.

Leaving the table, the group filed outside. The chill of the evening air was more bracing than painful. Overhead, the stars gloried in their turn at decorating the sky, ignoring the last light of the sun, sulking as it disappeared behind the western foothills. With Cor beside him, Bann walked across the spacious yard, the dried grass crunching underfoot. Graveled paths led to garden benches tucked here and there under trees. At one end, a modern-day jungle gym looked out of place in the formal setting. Next to it, a pile of charred, half-burned timbers marked where the old wooden play structure used to stand.

“Just as well it burned down.” Shay moved up and linked her arm through his. “It was taking up too much room, and none of the kids ever really played on it since Hugh put up the new one.”

As they drew near the gate, the low-level vibration from the magical wards set Bann's teeth on edge like the way loud static from the radio did. He paused with the others. “Go along, son.”

Cor shuffled closer to the gate. He licked his lips, then reached out and pressed his hand against the
wooden panel. He winced with a gasp, but kept his palm in place. Bann started for him.

“Wait a sec, Bann.” Shay caught his elbow. “Cor, what hurts?”

“My head.”

“Like sometimes in the morning when you wake up?”

He nodded. After a moment, he relaxed, hand still touching the gate. “Better now.”

Hugh and Ann looked at each other, stunned. “Incredible,” Hugh breathed. “He should be lying unconscious halfway across the yard right now. How is this possible?”

“Well, clearly it's related to his headaches—” Shay began.

“Can we talk about it back at the table?” With a meaningful nod at Cor, Ann shooed them toward the house. After they were seated, she studied Cor, eyes narrowed in concentration and her fingernail tapping on the rim of her wineglass. It rang with a soft chime.

“Ann?” Bann said. “What's wrong?”

“I'm trying to remember something James mentioned to me. It was just an aside and I didn't think much of it until now. In fact, it may have nothing to do with Cor being able to get past the wards, but…”

“But what?” Bann pressed.

“Well, I'm thinking it might.”

“What are you talking about, darlin'?” Hugh poured more wine into her glass before resuming his seat at the head of the table.

“It was an obscure footnote to the Boru saga that James had come across when doing that research for us
on how to kill the Stag Lord.” She frowned. “What was it, now? Something…something about the western land and the first Boru born on its soil.” She sighed in exasperation. “I'll have to ask James. He'll remember all the details.”

“No doubt he wrote them down.” Shay said. “The guy's a Celtic Google.”

“The western lands likely means the New World,” Bann guessed. “And Cor was certainly the first Boru born here.” A tug on his sleeve caught his attention.

“Dad?” Cor was looking up at him. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, kiddo, of course not.” Shay leaned around and spoke before Bann could open his mouth. “We were just wondering why you can touch the wards and not get hurt. It's like you're a superhero with special powers.”

“There's no such thing as superheroes,” Cor said in a matter-of-fact tone, trying to hide the last bite of squash under a spinach leaf. “Not in real life.”

The fall from that particular pedestal hurt Bann worse than being stabbed.

An hour and a half later, Bann glanced about as Shay pulled into the driveway of her home and parked next to his beat-to-hell pickup truck.
Our home
, he thought. It was like seeing it again for the first time. The house's generous lot, secluded location, and million-dollar view of the city lights to the east made up for its nondescript architecture. The mid-century brick rancher sat at the end of a cul-de-sac that backed up to a nature park to the
north. The park, filled with fantastical sandstone rock formations interspersed with massive boulders and twisted pine trees, was aptly named the Garden of the Gods.

While Shay and Cor took care of their own bags, Bann took a moment to walk around and inspect the old, battered camper tucked away on the east side of the house. The same camper he and his son had called home for almost a year—a year spent on the run from Cernunnos. He rattled the door, making sure it was still locked, then checked his truck. Tasks complete, he unloaded his duffles from the back of the SUV and hauled them inside.

A great room, consisting of a living room and a kitchen separated by a tall island, took up half of the house's small footprint. The west wall featured a brick fireplace with bookshelves on either side. Several shelves had been removed to allow for a modest-sized television set, while a sofa and several overstuffed chairs were clustered around the raised hearth. On the other side of the room, a hallway led to the bedrooms.

Beyond the island was a dated but clean kitchen with a sliding glass door that opened to the back yard. In one corner, a narrow doorway marked the pantry Shay had converted into an apothecary workroom.
Nice to be home
, he thought.

He carried the bags to the guest room he shared—
had shared
—with his son and dumped them on the bed by the window, then tossed his coat on top of them. The room already looked like a boy's room. A stack of folded clothes was piled on the foot of Cor's bed, while books and what looked like a handheld computer game took
up most of the nightstand.
Good. It seems he already thinks of this room as his
. At that moment, Cor appeared and began unpacking his overnight bag.

“Leave that for tomorrow, son. Get ready for bed now.”

“Yes, sir.” Pulling his toothbrush out of the bag, the boy headed to the bathroom across the hallway.

“Bann?” Shay called from the kitchen. “Want to check out the fence?”

“I do.” Picking up his jacket, he slid out the small box and studied it for a moment, debating, then tucked it out of sight under a corner of the smaller duffle.
Not yet
.

He followed her out the sliding door to the back yard. Hand in hand, they walked the perimeter, Bann pausing every now and again to check the workmanship of the five-foot-high wooden fence that ran along the back and sides of the property and ended at the front corners of the house. He nodded in approval at the wards, staves of ash, which hung on the inside of the wall. “I see you've re-warded the doors and windows as well,” he said, looking at the house and shading his eyes from the glare of the porch light.

“Yup. Now come see what I did out front.”

They walked through the house to the entryway. Standing on the top step, Shay pointed out the staves, fastened with wire and nails, which hung above each ingress, including the garage door.

“I decided to ward the front façade and not run the fence across the yard and driveway,” she said.

“And how are friends and your patients going to be able to access us without being stopped by the wards?”

“I had James rewire and move the doorbell.” She pointed to the low post installed right next to the top step. “This way, they can ring us without getting zapped. Of course, they'll still have to wait until one of us opens the door.” She shrugged. “Best solution I could come up with.”

“You're as clever as you are beautiful.”

“From your lips to the Goddess's ear.”

Bann chuckled. He realized how much he had missed her over the last week—had missed her sunny nature, had missed her humor and steadiness and common-sense approach to life. It was in direct contrast with his late wife, whose mood swings were as volatile as Bann's own.
We were not a good fit, Elizabeth and I
, he realized.
Both too explosive and stubborn, which led to far too many fights, which always upset Cor
. He smiled at her
. Shay will be good for the boy
. He wished he had brought the box with him after all.

Shay smiled back. She leaned closer to his warmth and looked up at the sky. “This is one of the best things about living this far west of the city. You can actually
see
the stars. And look at that moon. Gods, it's glorious tonight.”

Pulling Shay into his arms, Bann looked up as well. For a long moment, he reveled in the bliss of being back with her and Cor, and with a future, as bright as starlight, stretching before him. The lofty bliss shifted to an earthier one when Shay stirred against him. He was suddenly aware of her belly pressing against his groin and the swell of her breasts under her fleece. Her hands slid around his hips and cupped his buttocks. With a tug, she took care of any space remaining between them.

“My bed's been pretty cold this last week, you know,” she said. “And empty, too.”

“Ah. Well, I've a remedy for that.” He brushed his lips against hers, then moved to her cheek, her skin cool from the night air, but soft and smooth. When she tipped her head back in invitation, he continued down to her jaw and stopped at her throat, her pulse beating a tune under his mouth. He sucked lightly, his arousal growing.

“Oh, I can
feel
your remedy,” Shay said, slightly breathless. She clung to him for a moment more, then eased back and patted his hip. “I need to get a few things done first. Unpack, stuff like that. You get Cor settled, then bring your
remedy
to bed as soon as you can.”

They went inside. As Shay bustled about their bedroom, Bann shut down the house for the night, locking the doors and drawing the curtains in the living room. In the kitchen, he paused and studied the coffee maker, trying to remember how Shay prepped it to be ready at dawn. After a moment, he shrugged and gave up.
Most likely, she'll be the first one up anyway
.

Walking into Cor's room, he debated whether to tell his son about the change in the sleeping arrangements or just simply wing it, as Shay would say.
I probably should tell him. In case he awakes in the middle of the night
.

Cor was already in bed, a book in his hands and his mouth slightly parted the way it always was when he was deep in a story. Tilting his head sideways, Bann read the spine. “
The Incredible Journey
,” he said. “Good tale?”

The boy nodded, eyes fixed on the page. After a moment, he sighed and carefully dog-eared the book
before closing it and placing it beside him. “I hope they all get home.”

Bann took a seat on the edge of the mattress. He picked up the book and moved it to the nightstand on top of the others. “Home is a good place to be,” he said. He waited until Cor wiggled further down under the covers before tucking the comforter around the small body that seemed to have grown a foot in the last week. Bann remembered being able to hold his son in the crook of one arm. “I've missed being here at ours.”

“Me, too. I'm glad you're back.”

“Missed your old da, eh?”

Cor nodded, yawning. “I didn't want to sleep in here by myself.”

“You slept by yourself at Ann's.”

“That was different.”

Bann tightened his jaw in frustration, thinking of Shay waiting for him. Probably naked. Certainly eager. “Wouldn't you care for a room of your own?”

“No.”

Bleedin' hell
. A sudden inspiration hit him. “What if we got you a puppy? You could share the room with the wee thing. We'll put a crate over in the corner and—”

A cloud passed over Cor's face. “I don't want a puppy. I want Max.” His jaw jutted out in a way that was oh, so familiar to Bann. It was like looking in a mirror.

“I know, son. But Max is dead.”

“He's not! I saw him!” Cor burst out, speaking of the brief glimpse he had had of Max only a few days after they had buried the hound. The vehement tone took Bann by surprise. “He's just
different
. He could still be our dog, you know.”

No, he cannot. He's a monster from the grave. A creature filled with the evil of the shapeshifter
. “What you saw was just his body. Inside, he is not the same Max,” Bann said as gently as he could.
How do you explain to an eight-year-old that his beloved dog is now a mindless, savage puppet
? “Cor, lad, you must understand—”

“Go away.” The boy rolled over and curled into a ball, his back to his father. The equivalent of a spoken “get lost.”

Knowing Cor's moods, he leaned over and kissed the back of the rumpled head. “
Codladh sumh
, son.” Clicking off the lamp, he turned on the Batman night-light Shay had purchased—
Batman?
—and left, leaving the door ajar. He paused in the hall, torn between his son's needs and his own. The sound of drawers opening and shutting drifted from the master bedroom at the end of the hallway.