When the Stars Threw Down Their Spears: The Goblin Wars, Book Three (5 page)

Teagan turned to her dad. The last time she had seen him he’d been scruffy, and wearing
his
pajamas. Now, not only was he clean-shaven, he was neatly dressed, neither of which could conceal the fact that most of his right eyebrow was gone, and the hairs that were left had curled from heat. He smelled . . . singed, when he wrapped his arms around her.

“Are you all right, Rosebud?” he asked. “I’m sorry it took us so long to get here. Ida had to find her lawyer—” Teagan couldn’t miss the quizzical look he gave Seamus, who was putting his checked jacket back on. He looked even younger standing next to Mamieo Ida than he had in the interrogation room. “And then he had to pick us up, of course.”

“I’m okay. Are
you
all right?” He grimaced as she touched the side of his face. “What happened?”

“Let’s move the reunion to my office, shall we?” Seamus suggested, glancing at the desk sergeant, who was still smiling at Mamieo. “I’m sure Mr. Kelly would expect me to get you all out of here as quickly as possible.”

Seamus McGillahee’s “office” turned out to be the minivan he’d offered to sell to Mr. Krueger. If the pillow and bedding he had to move off the bench seat before they got in was any indication, it was his bedroom as well.

“Generally wealthy?” Teagan asked as Mamieo and Seamus took the front seats and Mr. Wylltson climbed in back.

Seamus nodded as he started the van. “I said generally. There are exceptions.”

“What happened at the park?” Teagan asked her father as she slid to the center of the seat to make room for Finn—then slid back so he could put his arm around her. It was colder in the van than it had been in the interrogation room, and having a high-power line to snuggle against was very, very nice.

Mr. Wylltson shook his head. “Raynor might understand it, but I don’t.”

Seamus glanced at Mamieo. “Raynor? That’s not a Traveler name.”

“Raynor Schein,” Mamieo said, still bristling. “He’s a holy
aingeal
.”

“Have you been mixing your medications, Mrs. Mac Cumhaill?” Seamus asked. “It happens with people your age.”

“My age?” If Mamieo’s eyes could throw daggers, Seamus would have been bleeding. “
My age?
The only medication I take is a wee explosive to get my heart started again when it threatens to stop.”

“I’m not sure that nitro pills work that way,” Seamus said mildly.

“Oh, you’re not, are you? There are saints and
aingeal
currently walking among us, Seamus, as well as those of goblinkind.”

“
Cat-sídhe
, sure.” Seamus pulled into traffic, neatly cutting off a Camry. “And the occasional Highborn. But I’ve never encountered either a saint or an angel,” he shouted over the Toyota’s blaring horn.

“You haven’t, have you?” Mamieo said. “And what if I told you there’s a saint sitting in your back seat as we speak?”

Finn groaned. “Will you stop it, Mamieo? I’m no saint and I’ve no intention of becoming one.”

“Of course you are,” Mamieo said primly.

Seamus turned to look at Finn. “No, I can see it, really. You’re the very picture of manly sainthood snuggled up to Tea there.”

“I’ve been wondering, Mr. McGillahee,” Mr. Wylltson interjected. “How did you fool the police into believing you are a lawyer?”

Teagan smiled. Redirect. She’d seen her dad do the same thing at library story time when the children started teasing someone. He was on Finn’s side no matter what he pretended.

“I wasn’t fooling anyone, sir. I know the law like the back of my hand. I failed the bar three times to prove it.”

“Failing proves you know the law?” Teagan asked.

“It does when I fail by exactly the point spread I say I will,” Seamus said.

Even Mamieo had apparently forgotten about the saint in the back seat. “Why would you do that, Seamus McGillahee?” she asked in astonishment.

“I had school bills to pay, and my law school friends had money. They bet me I couldn’t swallow my pride and fail the exam on purpose—but I had to prove it was on purpose by calling the number of questions I’d miss. If I was one off, so was the bet.”

“Why three times, though?” Teagan asked.

“Because I had no takers for a fourth, and so I was forced to buckle down and practice the profession.”

“Forced?” Mr. Wylltson asked.

“I loved the idea of being a lawyer. Of fighting for justice.” For an instant there was power in Seamus’s voice, as if his words might catch fire in the air and burn into anyone who heard them. “But our legal system’s not about justice, is it? It has nothing to do with right or wrong. It’s about knowing the rules, and how to get around them. That’s why it treats men like Krueger so well. He’s dirty, but the law he bends will never touch him. Something needs to, though. Someone.”

Mameio studied his profile. “So it’s justice you want, is it?” she asked softly. “That’s an older law, boyo. No politician, pope, or king can stand before it. Certainly not lawyers.”

“I know.” Seamus cleared his throat, and whatever had come over him was gone. He was wholly his laughing self again. “Still, I think my law degree was a step in the right direction. Just a step. The problem is my brilliant mind. I’d be good at anything.”

“Brilliance can be a burden, I suppose,” Mr. Wylltson said wryly.

“Laugh if you want,” Seamus said. “Disbelieve me if you wish. But it does make it hard to settle on a career. I wanted to keep my options open.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always had the feeling that something bigger was coming. Something important was just around the corner.” He sighed. “I
will have
an excellent career as a lawyer, though. The McGillahees are famous for their clear thinking and cool temperaments. We excel in peaceful negotiation, but we will fight if provoked.”

Mamieo sniffed. “Your future clients might feel a wee bit more confident of that if you dressed in a proper jacket, instead of that ridiculous getup.”

“Really?” Seamus didn’t look the least bit hurt. “Only a fool judges a man by the jacket he wears.”

“Is it a game to you, then?” Mamieo said. “Are you playing at being a Traveler?”

“Trailing my coat behind me like an Irishman at Donnybrook Fair,” Seamus agreed.

“What does that mean?” Teagan asked.

“It means he’s looking for a fight,” Mamieo said. “The boys would trail their coats behind them at the fair, and when someone stepped on them, fists would fly. Who were you daring to step on your coattails, McGillahee?”

“Mr. Krueger wasn’t the one I had in mind, but he’ll underestimate me if we ever meet in a courtroom. I could see it in his eyes.”

“You’re playing to stereotype and prejudice,” Teagan said. “Using something that is wrong, rather than trying to correct it. Wouldn’t it be better to change their opinion of you?”

“Please,” Seamus said. “I am half Traveler. My reputation’s not going to get better as long as the goblins are around, no matter what I do. When the Highborn step out of Mag Mell, it doesn’t always mean death. They’re often happy enough with the destruction of our hopes and dreams.”

“That’s who the jacket is for?” Mamieo frowned. “You’re hunting Highborn. Well, you don’t need to wear a billboard to announce yourself, boyo. They’ll find you.”

“At the police station?” Teagan asked.

Seamus glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You’ve seen them. One could be sitting right beside you on the bus, standing before the judge as your opponent in a court of law. Sitting on the bench. And there’s no way you could tell it was a goblin. Kelly picked up the bottle as soon as he’d hung up the phone after Mamieo’s call.”

Teagan could see the muscles tighten in his jaw. Shattered dreams and a broken heart. The goblins hadn’t touched Seamus McGillahee. But they had touched someone he respected and loved.

“I’m sorry to hear that about Kelly.” Mamieo sighed.

“The Highborn have given him trouble,” Seamus said. “I plan to give the damn goblins double in return.”

“Goblins follow Fear Doirich,” Teagan pointed out. “But not every Highborn does.”

Seamus shook his head. “I suppose you’re referring to the story of Maeve, who left Fear Doirich because she fell in love with Amergin the bard.”

“Maeve’s one example.” Finn squeezed Teagan’s hand.

“You know what I think? I think,” Seamus said, “she tricked the man into going to Mag Mell, where Doirich no doubt killed him. All of the stories end that way, with trickery, betrayal, and deceit.”

“What about Drogo, the bilocating saint?” Mr. Wylltson asked. “I understand that he was a Highborn who left Fear Doirich as well.”

“I’ve heard that,” Seamus admitted. “And I think . . . it’s possible that the Highborn threw him out.”

“Why?” Teagan said.

“Because something happened to Drogo. A ‘sickness’ that made him so hideous that men built a room without a window or a door to keep him in. Why would they do that? The records say it was so the sight of him wouldn’t frighten the villagers.”

Teagan’s stomach tightened thinking of Kyle’s wolflike muzzle, his canine tongue, and the incomplete shifters she’d seen feeding on phooka flesh in Mag Mell.

“Drogo lived alone in the darkness for forty years,” Seamus said, “eating nothing but barley water and the Holy Eucharist they slid to him through a little slot. If he was a Highborn, there was something wrong with him. The goblins must have thrown him out. The Church in her charity took the creature in and locked him up where he could do no harm.”

“I don’t believe it,” Teagan said. “Whatever happened to him, Drogo was
good
. We remember him as a gardener, and for how he cared for the poor. Not as a creature locked in the dark.”

“Well,” Seamus said, “if he
was
good, he was no Highborn.”

“Seamus.” Mamieo had been studying him as he talked. “There’s something you need to know before you go on. The girl I took in—the daughter I adopted by the laws of our own people—”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mamieo,” Seamus said. “And yours, Mr. Wylltson, Teagan. I should have mentioned that before.”

“Aileen, our Teagan’s
máthair
,” Mamieo plowed on. “I didn’t find her wandering the streets. I stepped into Mag Mell on Samhain’s Eve, and snatched her from the jaws of the Wild Hunt. I stole her out of place and time. Aileen was the orphan child of Amergin and Maeve.”

Teagan saw Seamus’s eyes flick to her in the mirror as the connections clicked into place, and then she was thrown hard against the seat belt as he slammed on the brakes. Horns blared as the minivan swerved through traffic to the curb.

“Get out,” he said, when the van had jerked to a stop. “I won’t drive your kind—”

Mamieo snatched the keys from the ignition.

“Give them back,” he said through clenched teeth. “I came to help a Mac Cumhaill. Not to provide taxi service for
goblin girls
.”

“She’s as dear to me as my own blood.” There was grit in Mamieo’s voice. “Now, Mr. McGillahee, you’re going to apologize.”

“Certainly,” Seamus nodded. “I’m sorry that you’ve lost your mind, Mrs. Mac Cumhaill, and”—his eyes meet Teagan’s in the mirror—“that I gave aid to a filthy goblin. Give me back my keys and get her out of my van.”

Finn slammed his door open so hard Teagan thought it might have damaged the hinges. “Step out with me for a moment, Seamus.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You mentioned that the McGillahees would fight if provoked. I intend to provoke the bloody hell out of you right here and now.”

“Don’t.” Teagan caught Finn’s shirttail as he started to get out. “He doesn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” Seamus said. All of the warmth and friendliness had gone out of him. His stare was like ice. “I can take one look at you and
understand
. Warriors have gone off with goblin girls before, and I’ve never understood it. Now I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve felt it. But I wouldn’t have believed it of the Mac Cumhaill. You have to be better than this, Finn.”

“Finn.” Teagan touched his hand. “What if you had found out about my mother just minutes after you’d met me?”

“That’s not the point. The point is I won’t tolerate anyone calling you filth. Get out of the van, McGillahee.”

“As you wish.” Seamus opened his door.

“Gentlemen.”
Mr. Wylltson’s voice wasn’t loud, but the timbre made the air vibrate around them. Both Finn and Seamus turned to look at him. “Mr. McGillahee, we will get out of your van and walk.”

“I’m fine with walking,” Finn began, “but I’ll teach this ignorant Scotsman a thing or two first.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Mr. Wylltson said. “I don’t like to hear my daughter or my wife called filth, but ignorance is never cured by violence.”

“I’m not ignorant,” Seamus said through gritted teeth.

“Aren’t you, then?” Mamieo leaned toward him. “Tell me, what does
glaine ár gcroí
mean, boyo?”

“Purity of our hearts,” Seamus said.

“Not completely ignorant, then,” the old woman said.
“Neart
ár ngéag.”

“Strength of our limbs.”

Mamieo nodded.
“Beart de réir ár mbriathar.”

“Action to match our speech.”

“The motto of the Fighting Fianna,” Mameio said. “You are Fir Bolg, Seamus. You have that from your father, if nothing else. Remember who you are. Something is happening that hasn’t happened in a thousand lifetimes of men. Fir Bolg— your own kind—have walked in Mag Mell and come back to tell about it. Locked doors are opening, and creatures great and small are tumbling into this creation. Aren’t you even a little curious?”

“Not curious enough to cuddle up with a Highborn.”

Mamieo snorted. “It’s a fool that judges a man’s mind by the jacket he wears. Or so I’ve heard. Is the flesh Teagan wears—or your own, for that matter—any more than a jacket? The Almighty has been whispering it to me in the night, singing it over me as I sleep. A great mending is to come, and things are trending in the right direction. You want to cause the goblins trouble? Be a part of the mending, man. I’ve been pounding at the doors of the Almighty to find out how it can be done, and I have the answer.” She smiled. “All we have to do is get back into Mag Mell and let the angel in. If that’s done, the mending can begin.”