Finn's Choice (8 page)

“But, Dad,” Rafe's voice rose in frustration as Finn trailed Savannah into the garage. “That's when Finn has his first trial. Isn't that more important?” Father and son were standing off to one side, while the Knights and their apprentices waited nearby. Snow was now blowing horizontally. Through the still-open garage door, Finn could barely make out Gideon's house.

“Son, I told you and your sister about the trip two months ago,” Rufus said. “And we're not exactly in a position to help much. Gideon said we need to keep our heads down for now.”

“Oh, man.” Savannah groaned. “I forgot all about that trip.”

“What trip? What's going on?” Finn asked.

Rufus Steel spoke before Rafe could explain. “Susanna has a four-day medical conference in San Diego the weekend of the twenty-fourth through the twenty-seventh. We had decided to take the twins and make a mini family vacation out of it. It was planned
six months ago.” He looked over at Gideon. “Unless you need us here.”

“While I appreciate the offer, Rufus Steel, 'twould ease my mind to know you and your family are far away when the goddess returns. Things might become a wee bit rough. Speaking of rough, time for us to make a dash for home.” Gideon shook hands with the man.

With the last two days' events rattling around inside of his skull, Finn hurried through the storm with the others back to Kel O'Shea's house. He noticed Lochlan dragging behind. Slowing down, he waited for him in the middle of the deserted street.

“If it'll make you feel any better,” Finn said, jogging in place and his hands shoved in his pockets for warmth, “she just wants to be friends with me, too.”

“Good.” Relief flooded Lochlan's face. It was followed by remorse. “Sorry, Finn. I didn't mean—”

“I know what you meant. C'mon. I'm freezing out here.”

They ran the rest of the way. After stomping snow off their shoes, they joined the others in the kitchen. While Kel O'Shea sat at the table with the other two Knights, Tara was bustling about, making tea with water still hot from lunch.

“Gideon, I want to check out the woods behind our house as soon as possible,” Kel O'Shea said. “Get a feel for the terrain and where the Amandán's den is located. You said it's a fairly aggressive pack?”

“Aye. And with Finn and me concentrating on preparing him
for the trials, it takes a load from my shoulders knowing you will be both guarding the Steels and keeping the beasties under control.”

“And I might get my torc sooner than later,” Tara said as she carried over steaming mugs and placed them in front of the Knights.

“Thank you, miss.” Gideon took a sip as he peered out the kitchen window. “Tomorrow, then? The storm, most likely, will have blown itself out by then. These autumn tempests are quick to arrive and just as quick to depart.”

“We'll join you,” Mac Roth said. “A fine chance for these ones,” he nodded at the apprentices, “to practice tracking.” He drained his mug and rose. “Come, Lochlan. 'Tis time we head back home.”

“We as well.” Gideon stood and carried his cup to the sink.

As Mac Roth's red Jeep drove away, Gideon and Finn hurried back to their own house, heads down and shoulders hunched. The wind beat at the large pines that flanked the porch. The trees punched back, flailing their branches in retaliation.

“First big storm of the season,” Gideon remarked, toeing off his boots by the front door and pushing them to one side. Finn did as well, throwing his shoes inside the wooden crate they kept there to hold rags and a metal bucket he used to collect
sláinte
nettle leaves. “It will make Kel's job harder.”

“How so?”

“The Bog-born,” Gideon explained, using the Amandán's name for themselves, “are more active in the dark of winter days. 'Tis why we hunt them more in the early mornings and evenings of
summer. Although tracking them is easier with the snow.”

Finn walked over to the sofa and plopped down. “Wish that was all I had to worry about—how to hunt Amandán in the winter. Instead, I've got a crazy goddess to deal with.” He tried not to think about Savannah.

“Speaking of the
Scáthach
.” Gideon walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. He rummaged about and pulled out his journal. He ruffled through it for a few moments, the pages rustling, then walked into the kitchen. Reappearing with the telephone, he studied the book still open in his hand and began dialing.

Finn looked at him. “Who are you calling?”

“The sorceress.” Gideon looked like he had bitten down on something sour. “We need to begin now.”

Lunch sitting in his stomach like a gut bomb, Finn sat up while the Knight waited for the call to go through. He swallowed when his master spoke.

“Iona? 'Tis Gideon Lir. You were correct—the
Scáthach
has indeed invoked the ancient ordeals. Fire will be the first.” He listened a few moments longer, the muscles jumping in his jaw, then nodded. “Right. This evening, then. No, we shall come to you. I would not want you to fly your broom in this storm.”

Finn could hear the sorceress' shrill voice through the phone. With a cold smile, Gideon hung up.

“'Twas rather rude of me, and certainly not necessary.”

“But you don't really care.” Finn couldn't help grinning back.

“No, not really.”

Dizzy from the flakes swirling about in the headlights of Gideon's truck, Finn shifted in his seat, too nervous to sit still. As they drove north through High Springs to Iona's house, the city gave way to middle-class neighborhoods, then to an upscale one marked by large houses on secluded lots, most of which were covered with pine and oak trees. Fancy gates and high walls surrounded most houses, adding to their privacy.

Finn eyed the passing properties, the dusk's gloom and the storm masking his view. “Sure doesn't look like the part of town a sorceress would live in. You'd think she lived in some creepy old mansion next to a graveyard.”

“All the easier for her to hide her true identity from the humans around her. She may be a sorceress, but she is not all-powerful, especially since her power wanes the farther from Ireland she is. And witch hunts can still take place.” Easing off the gas, Gideon slowed and checked the address. “Here we go.”

Turning into a wide driveway, they stopped in front of a wrought-iron gate flanked on either side by tall stone walls, its pointy picket tops as menacing as a row of arrows. Before he could honk, the gate rolled sideways and disappeared behind one of the walls. They drove through and followed a graveled drive half-covered with snow and lined with towering spruce standing like guards on either side. Scattered lights shone through the trees ahead of them.

The trees opened up. The drive ended in a spacious parking area. A tall block-like structure of glass and concrete, more like an office building than a home, sat brooding in the dusk, as if resenting being stuck in such a rustic setting. It was windowless, except for the upper level where evenly spaced squares of glass decorated the building. It reminded Finn of a tomb, or a mausoleum found in a really nasty, grim dictatorship. A single light illuminated the front entry.

They climbed out. Between the parking area and the front door, the landscape consisted of stepping stones laid out in a curving, geometric pattern and set in a bed of fine gravel. A blanket of snow covered the area, except for the stones and gravel, as if the flakes had melted as soon as they touched down. The more Finn stared at the stepping stones, the more he realized they created a giant three-lobed design—like three leaves joined together at the stems—with two circles around it.

“That three-sided shape is a
triquetra
—a mark of power among us Celts,” Gideon said. “By adding the double rings, a symbol of her own magic, she makes the
triquetra
even more powerful. Iona uses it as a ward, or shield, against uninvited visitors. Of all sorts. There are very few beings, mortal or supernatural, that have the power to break through and attack her on her home territory.” After loosening his weapon in its sheath, he led the way to the house.

“Like, who could?” Finn followed, the gravel crunching like granola underfoot. He was careful to not walk on the stones. For
some reason, he didn't want to touch them. He noticed Gideon avoided them, too.

“Angels, for one. The
Scáthach
, as well. Although it would be a challenge for them.”

Angels
, Finn thought.
Like the two we met downtown this past summer
. The memory of that meeting floated through his mind.

“
Why, good morning, Gideon Lir
.”

Finn and his master had turned around at the cultured voice. A tall, white-haired man, accompanied by an older teenage boy, was walking toward them. The boy's eyes, a rich brown that matched his hair, were filled with curiosity as he gazed at Finn
.

“And to you, Basil,” Gideon said in way of a greeting. As he chatted with the other man, the taller boy sauntered over to Finn
.

“How's it going?”

“Okay,” Finn replied
.

“I'm Griffin, Basil's apprentice,” he said. Tilting his head to one side, he studied Finn
.

“You're a Tuatha De Danaan, aren't you?”

“H-how did you know?”
He even pronounced it right,
thought Finn
.

“Oh, Basil told me about your people once. You two hunt monsters, or something?”

“Uh, yeah. A kind of goblin,” Finn said vaguely. “Did…did you say you were an apprentice?”

“Yup. Basil's my Mentor. What you might call a master.”

For a long minute, Finn stared at Griffin, who waited with a trace of amusement. He licked his lips in confusion. “Are you guys…you know…”

“Human?” The other teen supplied. He shook his head. “Actually, we're angels.”

Finn blinked. “Angels.”

“That's right.” Griffin grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “The very top of the supernatural hierarchy, you might say. Basil and I are Terrae Angeli—guardian angels who control the four elements. My specialties are Earth and Fire.” He held up a hand and snapped his fingers. With a whoosh, flames ignited and began dancing along their tips. “Especially Fire.”

Finn skidded to a halt. “Gideon! Those angels. Those Terrae Angeli we met this past summer. Couldn't they…?”

The Knight shook his head. “I know what you are thinking, but they cannot help us. Their abilities are innate. They cannot be transferred or borrowed. More's the pity, for Basil is a decent sort and would probably want to aid us if he could.”

“Have you asked them? I mean, I would rather learn this stuff from them instead of
her
.”

“As would I.” He slowed, indicating for Finn to fall in beside him. “However, I would make a deal with the very devil himself if it will help you pass these trials.”

Side by side, they walked up the two stone steps leading to the front door. Lacquered in a blood-red paint, it sported another
triquetra
inlaid with what Finn guessed was gold.

The door swung open. A smoky blackness so thick Finn coughed billowed out to meet them. Warm and smelling of cloves, it coiled around them. One inky arm wrapped itself around Gideon's shoulder and stroked his cheek.

The look of disgust on his master's face almost made Finn laugh. Almost.

Raising his voice, Gideon called into the interior in Gaelic. Finn caught only a few words:
Blade
and something like
do not tempt me
.

The smoke drifted away. Finn could swear he heard a sigh of regret. Then lights blazed up, as if someone had flipped a switch. Squinting and momentarily blinded, Finn didn't see the woman at first.

“You can't blame a girl for trying.” Iona stood in the doorway. Dressed in black pants tucked into high-heeled boots and a sleeveless red blouse, she leaned a shoulder on the door frame. Her upper arms sported wide cuffs of beaten gold.

“Ah, Gideon Lir. The Black Hand.” She looked the Knight up and down with an approving glance. A faint smile curled her lip. “Or should I say, the
Dark Knight
. And look.” Her gaze flickered over Finn. “Robin.”

“I'll explain later,” Finn muttered before his master could ask.

“Iona of the Hills,” Gideon said curtly, as if resenting giving her the title.

She stepped aside. “Welcome to my not-so-humble abode.”

Finn followed his master inside. “Whoa,” he breathed, his voice echoing weirdly.

A spacious room, half the size of a high-school gymnasium, greeted him. Glowing wall sconces encircled the perimeter like diamonds on a necklace and pushed the shadows into the corners. In the center, a fire burned inside of a low, circular hearth crafted
from marble blocks. Within the circle, the flames snapped and cracked with anticipation. The smoke twisted like a rattlesnake as it rose, adding to a smog-like layer obscuring the ceiling twenty feet above their heads. French doors took up the entire far side. Finn could just make out the woods outside through the panes. The only furniture in the room was an enormous cabinet standing by itself in the center of one of the walls. Its dark wood gleamed in the light of a nearby sconce.