Read Online Blade Dance (A Cold Iron Novel Book 4) by D.L. McDermott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: D.L. McDermott
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Fae motivations, but Iobáth was no ordinary Fae. That was why Finn had summoned him. “My son is at Miach’s. I’ve got a bed for you tonight. In the morning you can go to South Boston.”
“This Druid is preying on the desperation in your community and must be dealt with first,” said Iobáth, “before his magic causes any more harm. Then we shall speak further of your son. I will watch Sean’s house and intercept the Druid when he returns.”
“We all wear the Druid marks from our captivity. That means this creature can command us. He could force us to lay down our arms or fight each other. We’ll need Garrett to cast a charm of silence if we’re to have any chance against him,” said Finn.
“Then go and woo your estranged son, Finn MacUmhaill. I have a Druid to track.”
A nn knew something was wrong when Davin didn’t turn up for school the next morning. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise when she saw the empty seat. She delayed taking attendance, putting off the inevitable, hoping he would come skidding in the door late, but she knew the boy would not.
She reported Davin’s absence to the principal’s office and asked if Nancy McTeer had called in an excuse, but all she got was a curt “no” from the principal’s secretary and a withering stare that told her no further information would be forthcoming.
All morning she felt Davin’s absence like a missing tooth. He might be sick. Children did get sick. Perhaps he’d gotten an infection from the tattoos and his mother had kept him home. That was a distinct possibility, but it only worried Ann more. She doubted that Davin’s mother would take him to the doctor. A physician would be obligated to report the tattoos to family services.
By snack time she was too distracted to go on with the day’s lesson, so she rolled out the butcher paper that her class loved to draw on and distributed pots of water-soluble paint and markers and chalk and all the art supplies in her cabinet in some desperate offering to the gods who watched over small children.
The afternoon moved with agonizing slowness. At a quarter to three she lined her little charges up and led them to the school doors to wait for the bell. When it rang, they exploded out into the playground, and Ann followed them onto the blacktop.
Some children had parents waiting just outside the school fence. Others struck off in pairs and groups toward home. A few boarded the big yellow bus. And across the street, in the doorway of the free clinic, Nancy McTeer waited.
Davin’s mother wore a slouchy hat, but even the wide brim couldn’t completely hide the bruises. She didn’t see Ann at first. Then their eyes locked.
Ann felt her stomach turn over. Nancy McTeer was looking right at her—glaring at her—with a terrifying expression of hatred.
Ann fought the urge to retreat back inside the school even as Nancy McTeer began to cross the street. She wore tiny pointed heels on her feet in some kind of exotic leather—ostrich maybe—that clicked loudly over the pavement. Her sweater looked like the softest cashmere, rich beyond anything Ann usually saw on her students’ parents. Her jeans were deep indigo with white-stitched seams and obviously expensive. And the price of all that luxury was there in black and blue on her heart-shaped face.
Nancy McTeer stopped on the sidewalk and gripped the school fence with white knuckles. “I know what you’ve been up to,” she said, “interfering in things that don’t concern you. My son is none of your fucking business.”
“Of course he’s my business. He’s my student.”
Nancy shook her head. “Not after today, he isn’t. He won’t be coming back to school. Not once Sean hears about you taking Davin to the nurse and seeing the tattoos. Sean never even wanted the boy enrolled. I insisted on it. And now you’ve ruined everything. And don’t think I don’t know why. You’re using my boy to cozy up to Finn. But you’re not
“This Druid is preying on the desperation in your community and must be dealt with first,” said Iobáth, “before his magic causes any more harm. Then we shall speak further of your son. I will watch Sean’s house and intercept the Druid when he returns.”
“We all wear the Druid marks from our captivity. That means this creature can command us. He could force us to lay down our arms or fight each other. We’ll need Garrett to cast a charm of silence if we’re to have any chance against him,” said Finn.
“Then go and woo your estranged son, Finn MacUmhaill. I have a Druid to track.”
A nn knew something was wrong when Davin didn’t turn up for school the next morning. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise when she saw the empty seat. She delayed taking attendance, putting off the inevitable, hoping he would come skidding in the door late, but she knew the boy would not.
She reported Davin’s absence to the principal’s office and asked if Nancy McTeer had called in an excuse, but all she got was a curt “no” from the principal’s secretary and a withering stare that told her no further information would be forthcoming.
All morning she felt Davin’s absence like a missing tooth. He might be sick. Children did get sick. Perhaps he’d gotten an infection from the tattoos and his mother had kept him home. That was a distinct possibility, but it only worried Ann more. She doubted that Davin’s mother would take him to the doctor. A physician would be obligated to report the tattoos to family services.
By snack time she was too distracted to go on with the day’s lesson, so she rolled out the butcher paper that her class loved to draw on and distributed pots of water-soluble paint and markers and chalk and all the art supplies in her cabinet in some desperate offering to the gods who watched over small children.
The afternoon moved with agonizing slowness. At a quarter to three she lined her little charges up and led them to the school doors to wait for the bell. When it rang, they exploded out into the playground, and Ann followed them onto the blacktop.
Some children had parents waiting just outside the school fence. Others struck off in pairs and groups toward home. A few boarded the big yellow bus. And across the street, in the doorway of the free clinic, Nancy McTeer waited.
Davin’s mother wore a slouchy hat, but even the wide brim couldn’t completely hide the bruises. She didn’t see Ann at first. Then their eyes locked.
Ann felt her stomach turn over. Nancy McTeer was looking right at her—glaring at her—with a terrifying expression of hatred.
Ann fought the urge to retreat back inside the school even as Nancy McTeer began to cross the street. She wore tiny pointed heels on her feet in some kind of exotic leather—ostrich maybe—that clicked loudly over the pavement. Her sweater looked like the softest cashmere, rich beyond anything Ann usually saw on her students’ parents. Her jeans were deep indigo with white-stitched seams and obviously expensive. And the price of all that luxury was there in black and blue on her heart-shaped face.
Nancy McTeer stopped on the sidewalk and gripped the school fence with white knuckles. “I know what you’ve been up to,” she said, “interfering in things that don’t concern you. My son is none of your fucking business.”
“Of course he’s my business. He’s my student.”
Nancy shook her head. “Not after today, he isn’t. He won’t be coming back to school. Not once Sean hears about you taking Davin to the nurse and seeing the tattoos. Sean never even wanted the boy enrolled. I insisted on it. And now you’ve ruined everything. And don’t think I don’t know why. You’re using my boy to cozy up to Finn. But you’re not
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