Casting Dreams

by J. L. Weil

  I hurried through the woods with purpose. There was no time to pick the wildflowers or appreciate the lush greens. Only when I came to the edge of the stones did I finally stop.

  Dropping my shawl and tote on the ground, I tucked a few loose curls behind my ear and took a breath. “Here goes nothing.”

  Nature could be nurturing, or it could be cruel. The stones were no different. Not every soul was allowed to enter, though countless had tried. Only those worthy in heart and belief could truly enter the circle. It was a place well preserved, one of magick and myths. The stones welcomed me.

  Stepping into the circle, for a moment I swayed, like a woman coming out of a trance. The dizziness was followed by a hum that swirled in the air, spinning from one stone to the next in a sort of ancient chant. I tipped my head back, and stared in awe as dazzling ribbons of green and blue light danced around me, sparkling like will-o'-the-wisps.

  I knelt by one of the stones, trailing a finger over the ageless markings. It was cool to the touch, but pulsed with power.

  A chill entered my blood, a dirty smog in the air. Turning slowly, I noticed I was wading ankle deep in a misty fog. Shadows from the woods drew nearer, closing rank around the circle of stones. Even the sky vanished overhead, leaving me in utter darkness.

  A growl sounded behind me, and I was no longer alone. My skin prickled with the first inklings of fear. I spun around, my braid whipping in the wind, and through the fog, amber eyes glowed.

  The wolf.

  I backed up, pressing against the stone.

  I won’t hurt you, little dove. His voice echoed with power and darkness.

  “Liar. I’ve seen what you’re capable of.” He wanted much more than to hurt me. The man inside the wolf, whoever he was, wanted to possess me—mind, soul, and body. I could taste his desire, thick and brutal in the air.

  Ah yes. I’ve felt you lurking in the darkness, prying like a thief in the night. I’ve waited for you. He eased closer, and the amulet at my throat throbbed, roaring to life. It recognized evil, and sent a warning to protect me.

  I wrapped my hand around the purple stone, drawing forth its strength. “I won’t let you touch him,” I said with more assurance than I felt in my quivering heart.

  Eyes as malevolent as the devil’s soul scraped over me. I know what you are, little dove, and you can’t stop me.

  I trembled for a moment. “I respect what I am, the power I was given, and that is what separates me from you.”

  Power. He spoke the word with a kind of greedy hunger, eyes flashing boldly in the night. You don’t know what real power is. Let me show you.

  His heart was so black, surely he must have bartered it for such dark power. “You think to scare me, but I’m not afraid of you. You think because I can’t wield a sword or hurl magick at you, I’m less. That’s where you’re wrong.”

  Am I now? We’ll have to see if you’re right. Fog rose and rose, clouding the circle, the woods, and the path. The wolf gave a laugh. Come closer, Mirela of the white gypsies. Let me show you.

  “You think I’m a fool? That I would come anywhere near you? I promise you this, wolf. I don’t want or need your power. I will find a way to stop you and send you to hell.”

  And the wolf lunged, howling in victory.

  He lashed out, claws scoring my shoulder and lancing it in white-hot pain. Although he never entered the circle, he was still able to hurt me. My fault for skirting close to the edge.

  Grabbing the amulet, I felt the stone pulse. A burst of light exploded from it.

  And with it, the fog collapsed, striking only the evening air.

  I blinked.

  Someone was calling my name. It was faint, but finally reached me. I blinked again, looking up into a pair of starling aqua eyes. “Conner,” I whispered.

  “What are you doing here?” There was anger and accusation in his tone.

  I swayed, and his hands caught on either side of my shoulders, steadying me. “Son of a bitch,” I hissed through my teeth as shooting pain went through my right shoulder.

  “He hurt you,” Conner snapped, thrusting my shirt off my shoulder and exposing a series of black marks.

  “You know about the wolf?”

  “Aye, Mirela. I do. What I don’t understand is how you came to be here with the wolf.”

  “I-I don’t know. He just appeared.” There was still an edge of fog on my brain as I processed the events. The wolf was here. I looked at Conner, and the blood drained from my face. They were both here in Kenmare…that could only mean one thing. Conner’s death loomed around the corner.

  “Whoa,” Conner said, right before it all went black.

  I woke up shaking from the inside out, in spite of the fire crackling in the hearth or the throw spread over me on the couch. My wound had been tended, wrapped in a dressing. It still hurt, but was a different kind of ache than a scrape or a cut—the evil of it festered inside me.

  My gaze wandered the cozy room. Not my home, but Conner’s aunt’s, was my guess. It was clean and had a woman’s touch. Walls of warm toasted coconut opened to a simple kitchen with slate counters, where a pot was set to simmer, smelling of Guinness stew. Copper pots hung over the island, and a beautiful weathered wood table stood in a charming nook with a bay window.

  I shifted up on the couch, clutching the blanket closer and winced.

  “Hold still.” Conner tsked. “The darkness will be gone in but a moment.” He laid his hand lightly over the wound, keeping his gaze focused on mine. His voice all but hypnotized me so that I almost didn’t notice the lifting of the cold in my veins.

  What was he doing to me?

  “I can smell the sea on you,” he murmured, winding a curl around his finger. He tugged lightly, bringing me closer. “Better than the wolf. Is the cold gone?”

  I nodded. “You have magick?”

  He removed the bandage from my arm with a quick yank. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “No. Just…I’m not often taken by surprise.”

  “I don’t suppose you are. You’ll need to eat, gain back your strength. Unfortunately, you’ll have a tiny scar as a reminder of your brush with the wolf. It could have been worse.” His gaze bore down at me.

  “I gathered. Thank you for what you did.” His touch left my senses spinning in a delicious mess.

  “Stay by the fire a bit more. I’ll get us something to warm our bellies and then we’ll have that talk.”

  He was right. We needed to talk—about it all. The wolf. The dreams. His death. I just didn’t know if I had the words or the strength. What had happened tonight left me more tired than I’d ever been in my life.

  He was only gone a minute, and returned carrying two bowls of steaming stew. “Your color’s coming back,” he said after I’d taken a bite, settling on the floor beside the couch.

  “How did you know I was there? How did you know where to find me?” I asked, taking another spoonful. I was hungry, and the stew was good and hearty.

  He broke off a hunk of sourdough bread and offered it to me. “You aren’t the only one with magick.”

  I took the bread without hesitation. Carbs were my weakness…and so was Conner. “You’re a witch?”

  The smile was quick on his lips, a little lopsided. “I’m a druid, one of the last Delanys of Kenmare,” he said with pride in his voice and a pinch of foreboding.

  “A druid,” I repeated. “The sight never revealed that.”

  He chuckled quietly, deep in his chest. “You’ve seen too much, Mirela.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t that the point?”

  “Touché. I don’t know why, but you and I are connected. I felt it the moment I saw you.” He chewed on a piece of bread eyes steady on my face.

  I would love to know what was going on inside his head. Too damn bad I wasn’t a mind reader. “What does it mean?” This would have been the perfect opportunity to tell him about the dreams, but I didn’t.

  “I’m not entirely sure. I’ve been
trying to figure out how you fit in all of this—but what I do know is, it isn’t safe for you. Being near me isn’t safe.”

  I tilted my head to the side, resting my bowl in my lap. “Why?”

  Firelight flickered over his face, flashing in his eyes. “The less you know, the safer you’ll be. I won’t allow you to get mixed up in my problems.”

  “I can help you,” I pushed. This was a life-or-death matter.

  “Oh, Mirela, if only you could.”

  I shook my head, curls tumbling over my shoulder from the movement. “No, you don’t understand. I believe I am supposed to save your life.”

  He muttered curses in Gaelic, before locking eyes with me. “Is that what you believe? I can’t be saved. I have a choice set out before me, and the choice is mine to make alone.”

  “Even if it kills you?”

  He glowered down into his empty bowl. “Some things are worth the risk.”

  “And what of the dreams?” I said more to myself.

  His dimple played peek-a-boo. “The one we shared—dream to dream?”

  “Wait, what?” I sputtered, setting aside my bowl on the end table. “What do mean, shared?” I asked, settling back down.

  “Precisely. I was more than a little curious about you. And before you get your panties in a bunch, as I see the flint of fire in your eyes, I know it seems invasive, but that was not my intent. I was concerned.”

  He had invaded my dreams, used his druid magick to dream with me. That meant…blood flared in my cheeks. “So you thought to take a peek inside my dreams and seduce me?” I squeaked.

  A smile ghosted on his lips. “That’s not exactly how I planned it. I only wanted to find a bit more about you. In dreams, people tend to break down walls, open up. You took me by surprise.”

  Me? It was him who yanked me against him, kissed me as if he needed my lips to breath. “Like thoughts, dreams are private,” I argued, mortified.

  “My intent was to—”

  “You’re going to try and convince me it was for my own protection,” I interrupted.

  “Aye. I knew you’d understand.”

  I bit my lip. “What I understand, Conner the druid, is you took advantage of my mind, when I was defenseless in sleep. You kissed me.”

  “And more. If I remember, you liked it—you begged me for more.” His voice had lowered.

  My face flamed, because he was right. I had, but I’d thought it was a vision, not druid magick. I should have known. Until the wolf had shown up, the dream had been unlike any I’d ever had, but I convinced myself it was because of Conner’s sudden presence in Kenmare. “What do you want from me, then?”

  There was something dark simmering in his eyes, something not quite tame.

  Chapter Six

  I pulled my legs out from under the throw and swung them over the couch. “I think it’s time I go.”

  The light in the kitchen sputtered. Seconds later, the power was out. Thunder rattled the windows, and lightning struck close to the cottage. Just like that, a storm blew in, raging outside. A fierce wind gushed down the chimney, causing the flame in the hearth to flicker before extinguishing completely and engulfing the room in shadows.

  Only a fool would go out in a storm such as this. I sat on the edge of the couch, cursing Mother Nature. But maybe it wasn’t Mother Nature that had drummed up a storm as wicked as this. Kenmare was known for its unpredictable weather, but…I tilted my head to the side. “Is this your doing?”

  Conner sat on the coffee table in front of me, his knees interweaved with mine. “You think I created a storm to keep you here.” He laughed. “I may have an affinity with the elements, but…” He flicked out his wrist, and a candle on the coffee table flamed to life. “…this is not my doing.”

  Sinking back into the cushions, another bolt of lightning lit up the sky. I sighed. “Maybe the fates are trying to tell me something.”

  His eyes glimmered. “That they are. I suggest you get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  “Convenient. Don’t think this means something.”

  “I wouldn’t dare to presume.” But his predatory grin said otherwise.

  Because it was dark out, and it had been a hell of a day, I lay down on the couch, my gaze resting on Conner’s face. The man was a mystery to me. “Tell me what abilities you have, other than lighting a candle and healing wolf bites.”

  He lifted the brow with the scar. “I can’t give away all my secrets.”

  “Why not? You know all mine. You mentioned you have an affinity for the elements. Fire, water, earth, and air?”

  “As is the druid way. We gain power by being one with nature. Places like the stone circle are sacred ground, places of gathering and communion. Being a druid is a brotherhood, a belief in reincarnation of the soul to keep the balance of the universe. We seek to maintain stability between good and evil, order and chaos.”

  “How many are left?” I’d heard the stories. Ireland was famous for legends, but I knew firsthand, those myths were often based on truths. Druids were once thought to have thrived in this part of Ireland. Many of the cottages had been named after the Druids of Kenmare, including the one I lived in.

  Conner set his jaw. “Druids are a tight bound network that is dwindling and becoming a dying brotherhood. I am the last Druid of Kenmare.”

  “Is that why your life is in danger?”

  “There are questions I can’t answer.” He threaded our fingers, angling his head to the side. A glint of interest came into his eyes. “How is it I’ve dreamed of you before coming to Kenmare?”

  My throat snapped closed. “You what?” I thought maybe he was trying to distract me from asking more questions he didn’t want to answer, but the expression on his face was genuine.

  “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you speechless. I like surprising you, Mirela.” His thumb was on the inside of my left wrist, gliding in small circles.

  Wind and rain lashed against the window, making me glad I wasn’t alone, and I thought of Nan. She was a tough lady. “I’ve had enough surprises, thank you.”

  “Aye, I do suppose you have. I was taken quite aback when I saw your face that morning. I assumed you were nothing but a figment of my imagination. You can imagine my shock seeing you were very real. But you knew.”

  I pulled my gaze from the window and stared at Conner. “I did. I knew someday our paths would cross.”

  “What else have you seen?”

  “It isn’t always wise to know one’s future,” I cautioned. But maybe in this case it would aid him. “Your death. Over and over again, since I was a child.”

  He stared at me through impossibly long lashes. “That’s inconvenient. I can see this weighs heavy on your heart, but rest assured, I’m not dying tonight.”

  “There’s always tomorrow,” I said. I’d expected more of a reaction upon telling Conner he was going to die, but the druid kept his expression neutral.

  “So we should make the most of tonight.” His voice took on this smooth quality that send warning bells to my ovaries. “What would happen if I touched you now?” he asked, his thumb still moving over my wrist, distracting me.

  I gave him a funny look, my heart rate jumping. “Depends.”

  “On…?” He gave his signature one raised brow.

  “On whether or not I smack you,” I replied, my lips twitching.

  He laughed, a deep, husky sound. “You’re not the violent type. Besides, I thought you wanted to save me?”

  “I do. From the wolf. After that, you’re on your own.”

  He gave a slight tip of his head, before releasing my hand. “Until morrow, Mirela.” Then he stood up, flicking his wrist at the hearth. Flames roared to life, setting the room to a dusty glow.

  For a while, I lay on the couch tucked under a blanket, listening to the wind howl, the rain drum on the roof, and Conner’s footsteps creak overhead. I found the combination oddly comforting.

  I slept like the dead for
eight solid hours. That was almost unheard of.

  I woke bathed in morning light, completely disoriented and starving. For minutes, I lay there, gathering my thoughts and trying to recall the events that led up to me crashing on someone else’s couch. I ruled out alcohol.

  Then I remembered the stone circle and the wolf, the vision. I’d felt the pain, and felt his power. As was probably his plan, but it had been unlike anything I’d experienced.

  Lifting up on the couch, I let the throw drop to my waist, recalling the images from the vision. Conner had said he didn’t need my help, but whether he liked it or not, I was involved. I might not yet know how, but there was a reason the wolf sought me out, and I needed to know more, to learn more. To find a way to understand how the events in the vision would come to pass, and how I could change the future.

  It was a dangerous game I played, one that could get me hurt. Conner’s warning was valid, but I couldn’t sit aside and do nothing. All life was precious, Nan had taught me, but there was something more about Conner. He claimed we were connected, and I felt it. He pulled on more than my heartstrings.

  Tugging down the corner of my shirt past my shoulder, I inspected where the raw gashes had been. I’d never bled during a vision before, yet there seemed to be many firsts since Conner arrived in Kenmare.

  Thanks to him, the wound was mostly healed, just three tiny pink scars. The marks were a fresh reminder of how much worse things could have gone if Conner hadn’t shown up, disrupting the vision.

  What if those claws had struck my throat? Would I have died? Could a vision kill me?

  I shuddered.

  I’d been warned since a child of the dangers of possessing such gifts, but never had those dangers ever made themselves known.

  The wolf didn’t just threaten Conner. He threatened me.

  And I wanted answers.

  What did he want with Conner? Was it the Whalen blood he sought? Who was this wolf? What was he? Evil, but why?