Unholy Blue

“Darby sets a vivid scene as backdrop to a passionate story with a strong romance, and even stronger family unit. She had me at Bann's Irish brogue, Cor's young bravery, and Shay's sheer strength of will, then slayed me with the Doyle family. Darby Kaye's Tuatha Dé Danann shouldn't be missed.” –M.D. Waters, author of
Archetype
and
Prototype

“Darby Karchut's new novel is a refreshing glimpse into the often-visited world of Celtic mythology and tradition. It paints familiar myth with new colors and gives us heroes we want to root for—and reasons to keep turning the pages.” – Walter H. Hunt, author of the
Dark Wing Universe
and
Elements of Mind

“Karchut (Kaye) continues her exploration of the fighting Irish in this crisp and feisty urban fantasy. Adult fans…will relish the relationship between an heir to the Celtic throne and the young Healer, Shay, whose skills are constantly put to the test.” –D.C. Farmer, author of
The 400lb Gorilla (The Hipposync Archives)

“There is no slow burn with this read…a resounding success.” –RoloPolo BookBlog

“The combination of setting, love of family, and creating outstanding three-dimensional characters kept me invested in this book…I'm gathering my breath for December when I'll dive into
Unholy Blue
.” –Donnell Ann Bell, best-selling author of
Buried Agendas
and
Deadly Recall

“…a delightful tale filled with action, mystery, and romance…A fine kick-off to the
Bannerman Boru
series.” –Rabid Reads

“…highly recommend for fans of urban fantasy, and to readers who are looking for something new and different with brilliant characters to fall head-over-heels for.” –A Belle's Tales

Urban Fantasy

The Stag Lord

(Spence City)

Middle Grade Books

(Spencer Hill Middle Grade)

Finn Finnegan

Gideon's Spear

The Hound at the Gate

Young Adult Books

(Copper Square Studios)

Griffin Rising

Griffin's Fire

Griffin's Storm

Non-fiction Books

(Copper Square Studios)

Money and Teens: Savvy Money Skills

Essential Money Guidebook: Simple, Sustainable Personal Finance for Real People

Amandán (AH-mon dahn) - goblin-like creatures

bodhran (BOW-rawn) - Irish frame drum played with a doubled-headed stick

Céad mile fáilte (kad MEEL-a FALL sha) -
A hundred thousand welcomes

codladh sumh (culla SOVH) -
Sleep well

cú (Coo) -
Hound

Fáilte (FALL-sha) -
Welcome

Faugh a ballagh (FOW-an BALL-ah) -
Clear the way!

Fortitudine Vincit -
He conquers by fortitude
.

gle mhaith (GLAY moth) -
Very good

mo chara (muh KAR-uh) -
My friend

mo shíorghrá (muh HEER-ggrah) -
My love
or
my treasured love

ogham (OH-ehm) - a type of alphabet for one of the ancient Celtic languages, usually found carved in tall, slender standing stones from around the 5th century

O'Siobhan (O SHIV-awn) - Irish surname

Poc sídhe (POKE shee) - fey or fairy stroke

Samhain (SOW-ayn) - Halloween

Sláinte (SLAWN-cha) -
health

Tuatha Dé Danaan (TWA day dhanna) - an ancient warrior race of mythical beings from Ireland

(The sequel to
The Stag Lord
)

Darby Kaye

© 2016 Darby Karchut

Sale of the paperback edition of this book without its cover is unauthorized.

Spencer Hill Press

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Contact: Spence City, an imprint of Spencer Hill Press, 27 West 20th Street, Suite 1102, New York, NY 10011

Please visit our website at
www.spencecity.com

First Edition: January 2016
Darby Kaye
Unholy Blue/by Darby Kaye–1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Modern-day Celtic warriors must once again face an insane, vengeful god while preparing for a wedding.

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction: Ace, Aer Lingus,
Amazon.com
,
Batman, Borriello Brothers Pizza, Cabela's, Celestial Seasonings, Chia Pets, Chippendales, Coors,
Cosmopolitan
, Donald Duck, FedEx, Fig Newtons, Ford, Frodo, Gandalf, Gevalia, Gimli, Google, History Channel, Home Depot, HotHands, Jeep, Lauren Bacall, Lisa Frank, Marvel Comics, PetSmart, Plexiglas, Puppy Chow, Starbucks, Star Wars, Spider-Man, Superman, Teflon,
The Dukes of Hazzard
,
The Godfather
,
The Lord of the Rings
, Thor, Transformers, Uggs, Volkswagen Bug, Volvo, Wolverine

Cover design by Errick A. Nunnally
Interior layout by Errick A. Nunnally

978-1-633920-51-4 (paperback)
978-1-633920-52-1 (e-book)

Printed in the United States of America

“Eyes of most unholy blue.”

—Thomas Moore, Irish poet (1779-1852)

The Song of the Tuatha Dé Danaan

I am a wind on the sea,
I am a wave of the ocean,
I am the roar of the sea,
I am a bull of seven battles,
I am a hawk on the cliff,
I am a teardrop of sunlight,
I am a gentle herb,
I am a boar enraged,
I am a salmon in a pool,
I am a lake in a plain,
I am the vigor of man,
I am the meaning of poetry,
I am a spear on the attack, pouring forth combat,
I am the god who fires your mind.

W
HILE SHE WAITED BY
the open door of the plane for the passengers to disembark, the flight attendant watched as the man in 8C—ruggedly handsome with tall, dark, and
come fly the friendly skies with me
looks—unfolded himself from the aisle seat. He tucked the tail of his blue shirt into his jeans, then reached into the overhead bin for a small duffle bag and a canvas barn coat. He pulled a small box out of the pocket of the coat, the kind of box one would find in a jewelry shop; he peeked inside, then put it away. A faint smile curling a corner of his mouth, he edged into the crowd of passengers impatient to exit.

On autopilot, the attendant thanked each passenger as they shuffled by, not even noticing that very few acknowledged her. She caught herself in time to keep from wrinkling her nose when a whiff of jet fuel fumes drifted into the commuter plane, fouling the clean air of the late October afternoon.
Actually the
last
day of October
, she realized.
Halloween
. She glanced out the door at the range of mountains to the west. The lowering
sun crowned the peaks with coronets of silver. She never tired of that view; it always reminded her why she had chosen the city of High Springs as her home base, instead of Denver, an hour's drive north.

As the man made his way toward her, duffle in one hand, jacket in the other, she noticed that his eyes were a startling blue, almost the same color as the Colorado sky.
No, not almost. Exactly
.

She had checked the manifest earlier—out of curiosity and nothing more, no matter what the other attendant had said. The man, with the unusual name of Bannerman Boru, had flown out of Pittsburgh. As she continued to smile at each departing passenger, she wondered what business he had had in Pennsylvania, and what had brought him out West.

“Thank you for flying with us,” she said, giving him a first-class smile.

An unusual neckpiece encircled his muscular throat beneath the shirt collar. Made of heavy gold wires twisted together like a rope into a thick cable, it was capped on either end with not-quite-touching twin horse heads. The word
torc
flashed through her head. The piece reminded her of the sword and sorcery movies she watched in guilty pleasure.

“My pleasure, miss.” The old-fashioned response, as well as the whiff of an Irish brogue, made her heart flutter. Ducking through the door, he climbed down the metal stairs, his workman's boots ringing softly. He walked across the tarmac to the terminal, an eagerness in his stride that made her envious of whoever he was hurrying to see.

She sighed.
Damn. They don't make 'em like that anymore
.

Waiting off to one side of the main terminal, Shay Doyle double-checked her appearance in the darkened glass outside of the airport bar's window, much to the delight of two Marines having a beer on the other side. She gave a nod at their raised glasses. Their faces were young and fierce with life.
Semper Fi, gentlemen
, she thought.
May the Morrigan not come for you until you've heard the laughter of your grandchildren
.

Turning away, she ran her fingers through the reddish-blonde hair that flowed past her shoulders, fluffing it just a little, then tugged at the leather jacket she wore over her favorite black V-neck cashmere sweater. The jacket was South Dakota biker chick meets New York City chic, and always made her feel badass in all the right ways.

A drawn-out sigh caught her ear.

Shay glanced down at the boy fidgeting beside her. He was tracing the pattern in the carpet with the toe of his sneaker, the picture of boredom. “Hang in there, Cor. He'll be along any second. It always takes a few minutes for everyone to get off the plane.”

Cor Boru looked up at her, a mini version of his father, Bannerman, right down to the long-lashed blue eyes—the same shade of blue as Shay's own eyes, and the distinctive trait of their people, the immortal Celtic warriors known as the Tuatha Dé Danaan—and the
same dark brown hair shot with streaks of bronze and copper. “It seems like Dad's been gone a long time.”

“Barely a week, buddy.”
But when you're eight, almost nine, years old, and have been glued to your father's hip for the past year, a week can seem like an eternity, even if we all three talked on the phone each and every night
. She reached over and swept aside the lock of Cor's hair that was forever flopping over one eye. Grinning, she thought back to all the times this past week she had tried to tame that errant lock, while caring for the boy who could possibly, hopefully, with a bit of Irish luck, be her future stepson.

Cor ducked. “Don't.” He batted her hand away when she tried again, then laughed when she made a scissoring motion with her fingers. “And no haircut!”