Finn Finnegan Read Online Free PDF Page B

sucked in a shaky breath as Gideon released him. He turned around and stared at the mound of powder a few feet away, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Is-is it dead?” He hoped his master didn’t notice his voice cracking.
    â€œOh, ‘tis not dead.” Gideon bent over and picked up the weapon. He held it between thumb and finger to rinse it off in the diminishing rainfall, the cloudburst as quick to leave as to arrive. “Amandán are almost impossible to kill. All I’ve done is weakened it. ‘Twill take some time for that one to gain enough strength to reform and attack again.”
    Finn stepped closer and poked at the sodden mess with his toe. The rain was already washing away the traces of left-over goblin. He grimaced. “ Bleh , that stuff stinks!” He waved a hand in front of his nose. “Smells like burnt rubber.”
    â€œAye, it does. Which is why an apprentice with even a modicum of intelligence would not stick his bleedin’ shoe in it.”
    While Finn scratched his head, trying to determine if he had been insulted, Gideon walked over to the truck and rummaged through the storage bin in the back, finally locating a rag. With a few swipes, he dried the blade and slid it back into its sheath, under the tail of his shirt.
    â€œQuite a beginning to yer apprenticeship, eh?” He propped an elbow on the side of the truck bed. His blue eyes twinkled as he wiped wet ash from his cheek. It left a smear across his lean face.
    Finn grinned back weakly and nodded, his pulse slowing. He gathered the plastic bags still sitting by the passenger side and tossed them into the cab, then joined the Knight.
    For a few minutes, they stood side by side, watching the storm clouds race eastward. Around them, shoppers emerged from their cars, having waited out the storm before heading to the store.
    After a moment, Finn wrinkled his nose and sniffed. Trying to act nonchalant, he eased away from the goblin puddle.
    Gideon slipped off his shirt. “Best get used to the stench, boyo.” Holding it out, he examined the stained material. “A good scrubbing and ‘twill be respectable again.”
    Finn nodded. His eyes widened when he noticed a Celtic knot tattooed on the swell of muscle of the Knight’s right arm, just below the sleeve of his master’s tee. The green lines of the sigil wove in and out, around and back, in a pattern with no beginning or ending. A wisp of a memory washed over him. A memory of a similar tattoo on his father’s arm. “My da had one,” he said, almost to himself.
    â€œDid he? The mark of Knighthood?”
    â€œYeah.” Finn frowned. “My uncle’s a Knight, too, but he doesn’t have one.”
    â€œYer da and Uncle Owen are of a younger generation of Tuatha De Danaan. Fergus was a rare one to have followed the old custom.”
    â€œOh.” Finn hesitated for a moment, then looked up at his master. “Just how old are you?”
    â€œThirty-seven,” he said offhandedly. He tossed the shirt into the bed before heading for the cab. Finn trotted around to the other side and climbed in.
    As the truck coughed to life, Gideon glanced over. “I best teach ye how to remove goblin remains from yer clothing. We’ll begin with me shirt.”
    â€œMe? Why do I have to do it? It’s not mine.”
    â€œI dinna write the rules. It clearly states in the ‘How to Train Yer Apprentice’ manual that the apprentice does the laundry.”
    â€œCan I see this manual? When we get back?”
    â€œI seem to recall that I’ve misplaced me copy.”
    â€œSo, how do I know you’re not just making all this sh—crap up?”
    â€œBecause I am Gideon Lir, Knight of the Tuatha De Danaan,” he proclaimed in a solemn voice. “And our word and our honor are the one and the same.”
    Finn muttered something under his breath that rhymed with “ ghoul skit”