by Nicola Marsh
Oscar snorted and Maeve chuckled. “Don’t mind him; he hasn’t had his rowan-berries fix today.”
I raised an eyebrow, increasingly clueless and hating the feeling. Guess my high IQ meant jack in this place.
“Fruit of the quicken trees, what you probably know as ash trees. The berries are sacred, said to hold a magic for eternal youth.”
Oscar snarled. “Quit babbling. She needs to know more important stuff than that.”
Maeve smirked and poked her tongue out. “Like how you’re a warrior but haven’t guarded anything since you were out of diapers?”
I stiffened, caught in the crossfire as animosity rolled off Oscar in palpable waves. But before he could respond, Mack held up a hand. “Holly needs to meet Dyfan.”
Whoever this Dyfan dude was, he held enough power to shut the squabbling duo up. Mack led us up a garden path bordered by herbs and knocked at a wooden door inlaid with a weird symbol of five overlapping circles.
Joss caught me staring and reached out to trace the symbol with a fingertip. “The five-fold represents balance. The four outer circles symbolize the four elements: earth, air, fire, water. While this one—” His finger lingered on the inner circle, as if reluctant to break contact. “—unites all the elements to reach perfect balance between energies.”
“Who’s Dyfan? And why is this symbol on his door?” And why were they taking me on some grand tour when I wanted to ask questions?
Before anyone could answer me, the door swung open to reveal an older guy with long hair, a goatee, and some serious fashion issues, judging by his funky white PJs. They looked like pajamas, but on closer inspection resembled a long tunic and flowing trousers.
“Welcome, children. Come in.”
As Mack led the way into the small cottage with a brief nod in Dyfan’s direction while the others barely acknowledged him, I had an instant glimpse into the group dynamics.
Dyfan deliberately spoke down to Mack. Baiting him? Mack had to be in his mid-twenties, so lumping him in with the rest of us was a slap in the face. What I wanted to know was why.
“Dyfan is our philosopher-cum-head-priest.” Mack wandered over to an overflowing bookcase and trailed his hand over the leather spines. “He presides over our rites at the Temple of Grian, the sun temple.”
The philosopher stiffened at Mack’s offhand tone, confirming my earlier suspicion. No love lost between those two.
“What our illustrious leader failed to mention is that I’m also his chief advisor.” Dyfan’s fake smile grated as he turned his attention to me.
“That’s not your primary role, though, is it?”
“We call him our jack of all trades, don’t we, Dyf?” In what I was fast recognizing as typical Maeve fashion, the bubbly redhead diffused the situation.
“You’re too kind, Maeve.” Dyfan nodded at her. “But I’m sure our guest has questions she’d like to ask.”
Where to start? “What does a philosopher do?”
Oscar snickered as I belatedly realized the smartass response would be philosophizing.
Thankfully, Dyfan didn’t mock me. “Please, sit. Then we’ll talk. Drink?”
“Some rowan-berry juice might kick-start proceedings,” I said, my nerves making me blab the first inane thing that popped into my head.
Mack grinned, Maeve chortled, and Joss shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Even Oscar the grouch managed a semi-smile.
Dyfan peered around the room, confused, which only served to widen Mack’s grin.
Mack indicated we should sit around the table. “A Sorority joke. You know how it is.”
Judging by the frown creasing Dyfan’s brow, he didn’t, and that pissed him off royally.
While Dyfan placed a tray of wooden goblets on the table, we sat. The guys perched on the edges of their seats, too big for the small round table. Maeve and I squeezed onto a bench for two.
“The Druids of Eiros are divided into three orders: The druidh, the filidh, and the baird.” Tapping his chest, Dyfan puffed up with pride. “I’m a druidh. We’re the teachers, philosophers, physicians, high priests of our community.”
“Impressive,” I said, gaining a beaming smile for my trouble. Oscar covered a snicker with a fake sneeze.
Ignoring Oscar, Dyfan swept his arms wide in a theatrical flourish. “We mediate disputes, try cases, and set penalties for criminal acts—”
“Dyfan’s main role is to provide guidance to those who want it,” Mack interrupted, sounding like the last person who’d seek out the druidh for advice.
Bowing his head in Mack’s direction, Dyfan continued. “It is the druidh’s place in the Innerworld to provide assistance to the reigning deity.” He paused, his grin oily. “Particularly when that deity is so young.”
And inexperienced. He didn’t have to say it; his condescending tone was enough to make Mack bristle.
“Tell me about the others you mentioned.”
Dyfan slipped into haughty teacher mode easily. “Filidh are seers, soothsayers, gifted in divination.”
When I frowned in confusion, Mack said, “They predict the future.”
How convenient. Wish they could predict mine. Like whether I’d be any good at searching for Arwen. Whether I’d find my mom. Whether I’d get the answers I craved. And most of all, whether I’d survive this outlandish quest.
“The baird are poets and singers.” He pronounced it like they cleaned toilets, and I waited for one of the Sorority to interject.
They didn’t disappoint. “What our illustrious druidh has failed to mention is the baird are also known for their wisdom, often beyond that of other druid orders.” Oscar tempered his snide explanation with a patronizing smile, taunting Dyfan to respond.
I didn’t understand the politics of this place, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out the group dynamics here sucked. If no one respected the chief advisor, where did that leave the community?
“But I’m sure the real reason the Sorority brought you to me tonight is to discuss the tasks you must master.”
“Get on with it,” Oscar muttered.
Dyfan held up his hand, fingers and thumb extended. “Firstly, you must master the art of traveling between worlds.”
Mack winked at me. “Safe to say she’s blitzed that one, considering she’s here.”
I shot him a grateful smile, thinking if only he knew. I hadn’t mastered anything yet, fluking my latest teleporting effort courtesy of a nameless crystal.
Dyfan pushed down his index finger. “Next, you must gain control over your clairsentience and use your visions to follow your gut.”
Easy for him to say. Right then my gut wanted to rehash the last meal I’d eaten, which was too long ago.
His third finger flexed. “Become proficient at scrying.” He pushed down his fourth finger. “You must face and banish one of the Underworld’s lesser creatures.”
Maeve patted my hand and murmured, “Banshees aren’t so bad.”
Easy for Little Miss Optimism to say.
Dyfan lowered his pinkie. “And lastly, you must become one with the Arwen Triple Flame to use it.”
Once again, I had no idea what that meant. I nodded, relieved when Mack stood and beckoned the rest of us to follow suit. “Thanks for the enlightening chat, Dyfan. Holly has a lot of ground to cover tonight, so we’ll take it from here.”
“Thanks,” I echoed, not surprised when the others merely grunted.
“My pleasure.” Dyfan’s quaint little bow made me want to giggle despite the churning in my stomach. “Remember, you need to master all tasks to stand any chance of facing Cadifor.” His mention of my adversary made the blood drain from my face. “I’m happy to assist you in whatever capacity you need.”
Joss touched my arm. Leaning down on the pretext of unlatching the door, he whispered in my ear, “You’ll be fine.”
I managed a brief nod, clamping down on the sudden urge to bawl. And trying to ignore how darn wonderful his warm breath fe
lt against the sensitive skin behind my ear.
When he made to move away, I snagged his arm. “You know that mind-reading thing? Can you do it all the time?”
His lips curved into a smile that made me forget who I was, why I was here, and what any of this meant. “Why? Worried?”
“’Course not. Just curious.”
“Bull,” he said, the spark in his eyes alerting me to the fact I wouldn’t like his answer, but would be powerless to do anything about it.
He was hot, and having him here, near me, made this whole crappy thing bearable.
He gently tapped the side of my temple. “Let me see. I’m getting a read right now that you’re more than curious. You’re downright petrified I can read every single one of your thoughts.”
“Don’t be a dick,” I said, holding my breath when his finger stopped tapping my temple and slowly traced an invisible line down my cheek, lingering on my jaw before fading away.
Bending down, he whispered in my ear, “You also think this geis thing binding us isn’t half bad.”
“Screw you,” I said, without a hint of malice, my voice embarrassingly shaky as his breath tickled my ear again.
“Relax. Because we’re new at this, getting a read on your thoughts is like tuning into a shoddy radio. Intermittent and shaky at best.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’re off the hook.” He touched me behind the ear where his breath had fanned me a moment ago—a brief, barely-there brush of his fingertips that short-circuited my brain and fired tingles through my body.
“For now.”
We stared at each other for a long, drawn-out moment, a moment that signaled I could fall a little bit in love with my warrior if I wasn’t careful.
I opened my mouth to say something, a smartass comment to shake me out of the stupor he created simply by looking at me, but he studied my lips before slowly, tantalizingly sweeping back to meet my eyes, and I almost melted on the spot.
“Don’t say anything.”
He pressed a finger against my mouth, and I clamped my lips shut before doing something incredibly out of character.
Staring into my eyes, he murmured, “I get it.”
I was glad someone did, because at that moment, with my heart hammering and bucking like a wild thing, my skin prickling with hyperawareness and my soul yearning for a little romance, I didn’t get a freaking thing.
“You’re scared. But you can do this.”
Oh. He’d misread my held breath and wide eyes as fear of what I faced. Disappointment filtered through me, for during that one, long, heart-stopping moment when we’d connected, I thought he actually got it, that I was fast developing a crush on my reluctant warrior.
Before I could say anything, he swung open the door, stony expression back in place as the others joined us. I slipped into my position as compass center, far from ready to face my next foray into life at Eiros.
“That went well,” Maeve chirped, her constant optimism a tad annoying.
“As well as can be expected.” Mack shrugged.
“Dyfan can be unpredictable,” Oscar said, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected the philosopher to come swooping down any second. “And unpredictability is dangerous.”
“We don’t trust him,” Maeve added, her expression surprisingly solemn. “He’s tried to use his role as Mack’s advisor to twist things to suit himself.”
Mack nodded. “Dyfan is irrelevant in your quest, but when you start formal lessons here, he’ll be one of your teachers, so it’s best you’re aware of his hidden agendas.”
I focused on one thing. “Formal lessons?”
My voice came out an embarrassing squeak and Mack eased into a grin. “There is so much you need to know, so much you need to learn to help you on your quest, and here is the best place for that.”
“But what about C.U.L.T.?”
“You’ll need to split your time, weekdays there, weekends here. Combine theoretical and practical lessons across both worlds.” Mack shrugged, as if my new seven-day schedule meant little. “You need to immerse yourself in your new culture if we’re to succeed.”
Oh, he was good, honing in on my feeling isolated, including me in their group, using we to show I was part of them. All very well, but I barely knew these people, and I was expected to trust them with my life.
Joss touched my hand. “You have to do this.” My hand burned where his skin touched mine, a scorching heat that comforted. “Don’t worry. You’ll never be alone.”
I don’t know what freaked me out the most: the fact I’d be studying 24/7, the fact my life wasn’t my own anymore, or the fact I liked Joss’s touch way too much to be good for me. Accepting he could read my mind was freaky enough; crushing on him was beyond crazy.
Needing to string coherent words together, I faced Mack. “Do I get a say in any of this?”
“A feisty one,” Oscar muttered, his grudging respect a surprise.
Mack shot him a quick frown before focusing on me. “You’re overwhelmed. We understand. But time is running out and we need to get you up to speed as soon as possible.”
I froze. “What do you mean, running out?”
He pointed upwards. “You’ve seen the sky?”
I nodded, some of what Joss had told me and the Arwen text I’d read coalescing.
“That permanent grayness is a sign that Cadifor is gaining strength.” Mack’s low voice sent a ripple of unease through the group, who stepped closer to me as one. “If Cadifor’s confidence is increasing, he’s getting closer to finding Arwen. And if that happens … ”
He didn’t need to spell it out. Even I knew the consequences if the lord of darkness ascended to power again.
Guess I didn’t have a choice, and glancing around at the motley faces surrounding me—Mack skeptical, Oscar resentful, Maeve hopeful, and Joss stoic—I knew what I had to do.
“When do I start?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brigit didn’t have a problem with my expanded schedule. Why would she, if I was merely an adjunct to her finding Arwen and gaining parapsychological notoriety? Or worse, if Maisey was to be believed.
While Raven would probably understand my newest abilities, what with her telekinetic talent, I didn’t want to tell Quinn. Not that he wouldn’t understand—he’d seen enough at this school to blow any preconceptions of normal sky high. On the contrary, he’d probably offer to help and I didn’t want that. Quinn was my touchstone to reality, blissfully normal in a world where I didn’t know what to believe anymore. I needed that normality more than ever.
Raven slid into the chair next to me, dumping a stack of books on the desk between us. “Divination first thing. Hope you brought your crystal ball.”
“Sorry, left it at the cleaners.”
She laughed, her open friendliness a stab at my conscience. It was good seeing a familiar face at my first divination lesson, but hanging out with Raven and Quinn made me increasingly guilty I couldn’t tell my new friends everything.
“Where’s Quinn?”
“No idea.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Probably off on secret guys’ business.”
Wish I could ditch divination and delve into the many secrets plaguing me.
“Did Brigit give you a hard time yesterday? We didn’t see you at dinner.” Raven slouched into her chair, her kohl-rimmed eyes free of suspicion, which made lying to her even harder.
Feigning great interest in unpacking my bag, I mumbled, “Nah, she was okay. I was beat by the end of it, though, so I hid away in my room.”
“Don’t blame you. Not your average hole in the wall with a desk and bed, huh?”
Understatement of the year. My room at Nan’s cottage could’ve fit into my dorm room four times over. “I kinda like that aspect of things around here.”
She wriggled more books out of her backpack and plonked them on the desk. “We’re treated like we’re special and not some freak science experiment.”
I nodded, thoughtful. “
I hadn’t thought of it like that, you’re right.”
Raven picked at the fraying spine on her copy of Mastering Your Inner Scryer. “Were you scared when you first arrived here?”
Surprised, I glanced at her to see if she knew anything and was subtly prying. But she appeared guileless, her expression uncomfortable, like she hated admitting any weakness.
“Honestly? I was petrified.”
Her face eased into a smile. “Me too. I had no idea what I’d be in for. Like I wasn’t feeling ridiculous enough anyway, what with the … ” She waved her hand beneath the desk, pointing at my pen and levitating it toward my hand. It landed when I reached for it, and I laughed.
“When did you first discover you could do that?”
She screwed up her nose at the memory. “On a date with Randall Silverson. Down by Escanaba River, near Lake Michigan, where I’m from.”
She flushed and glanced away, focusing on her stack of books. “I’d liked him for ages but we never hung out. Then we got partnered on a science experiment and he finally started to notice me, you know?” She waved a hand at her clothes. “It felt like he could see past all this, really see me. I kinda liked it.”
I knew exactly what she meant. I’d felt the same way when Chad Holmesworth, jock extraordinaire at Wolfebane High, had started chatting to me around the time of the Spring Dance. I’d been stunned into immobility, but went along with it, curious to see why he was paying attention to me. The friendlier he got, the higher my hopes he’d ask me to go with him. He asked me, all right—for a year’s worth of English lit essays so he wouldn’t flunk and have that affect his college choices later.
“We started studying together, hanging out on weekends, that kind of thing. Then he asked me out. I couldn’t believe it.” She plucked at her bottom lip, her eyes hazy with remembrance. “We had pizza, and the crazy thing? I remember every topping on it, how it smelled, how he smelled … ”
My heart ached for her.
“After we ate, he held my hand and wanted to take a walk down by the river. Pretty romantic, huh?” Melancholy darkened her eyes. “The ass-wipe wouldn’t take no for an answer and I was fending him off, wishing all the time something would land on his head and knock him out.”
