by JL Terra
“I wasn’t lying.”
“We need to get out of here,” Daire said. “The last time we were in the same place as these men, the building exploded.”
Shadrach said, “You think this place is rigged?”
“If it is, or not, we need another way out.”
His teammate nodded. “Stairs?”
Daire led the way. He pulled the fire door open, and they headed down the stairs. Ten minutes later, he stopped, out of breath.
“Shouldn’t we be at the bottom by now?”
Dread filled him. Daire said, “Yes, we should. This building is only thirty-two stories.”
“And of course you had to live on the thirty-second floor.”
Daire wasn’t going to argue the semantics of not actually occupying this residence. “Let’s keep going.”
But no matter how many floors they descended, they never reached the first.
Shadrach stopped on a landing between floors. “This says eighth floor. We aren’t making progress.”
And the man thought he wanted to know everything about Daire’s life. “This is what he does.”
Shadrach made a face. “The Druid?”
Daire nodded.
“Druids lived thousands of years ago. Like, Merlin.”
“Not like Merlin,” Daire said. Though Daire’s enemy would probably get a kick out of being linked with that famous—but not real—wizard. “Most Druids were just wise men. Like community leaders.”
“But not your Druid.”
“He’s not mine.” Daire sighed. “But he does have power. Every horror story you’ve heard about Druids, that is him. And now that he has the first book, he’s back to messing with me. With our perception of what’s real and what isn’t.”
“Why?”
“So that we’re climbing down this staircase forever. Or until you die. Then I’ll probably give up and—wait. What did you say?”
“I said why.”
“Why is he messing with me?” It was more of a thought than a question.
Shadrach said, “Because he can, or because he’s distracting you again?”
“Distractions.” Daire let out a roar of frustration. “Try your phone.”
“Is it even going to work?”
He said, “I don’t know,” and pulled out his own. “But we have to try.” He called Remy’s office line—a different number than Shadrach would be calling. “We have to get out of here.”
“No signal.”
Daire looked. “I have one bar.” He held the phone to his ear and listened to the crackly ringtone.
She never picked up.
Daire had an idea. “Come on. I think I know how we can get out of here.”
Chapter 14
Northern Minnesota. 24hrs later.
Daire took a sip of coffee and sat back in his chair at the huge Amish farm table. He’d been talking for a half hour straight, explaining everything. “Once we got out of the stairwell, it was doable.” Not easy.
“He broke a window and we abseiled down the outside of the building.” Shadrach still looked mad about that.
Daire said, “I need to know if the Druid is alive.”
As much as he might not like it, their lives were tied together. Providence decided that long ago, and Daire needed to stop fighting it. He had to assume that the Druid had more dead acolytes in the world who were going after the other books.
He needed to finish this for good.
Shadrach, Malachi, and Ben sat around the table. It was good to have his friend back, even though Ben had only been on vacation. Daire didn’t begrudge the man his relaxation time. Everyone deserved a rest—especially after what Ben had been through.
Remy was at the far end, to his right, tapping on her computer. Mei was recovering elsewhere with Taya, Ben’s wife—also her adopted mother and the only one who could handle her when she was injured.
Daire said, “Have you heard from Amelia?”
Remy nodded. “Bryn took off, early this morning.”
He set his cup down so hard coffee sloshed onto the table. “She what?”
“I don’t know how Bryn managed it with a neck wound, but she must have hot wired Amelia’s car. When Amelia went out to the garage, the keys were there but not the car.”
Daire just stared at her. “That makes no sense. Why would she run?”
Remy’s attention remained completely on her laptop screen. “She just checked into the Circus Circus in Reno under the name Catherine Brynlen.”
“I want to know if she’s okay.”
“Shadrach could head there as soon as we’re done,” Remy said. “Keep an eye on her.”
“I can?”
Remy glanced at Ben. “We are doing this, aren’t we?”
Ben said nothing. Both he and Shadrach looked kind of…shell shocked.
“I already called Amelia,” Remy said. “We’re having Bryn’s things sent to the hotel by courier.”
Daire said, “She’ll know we’re watching her. That we know where she is.”
Remy shrugged. “She should. We aren’t letting her go it alone, right?”
“Because she might be involved with the Druid.” Roy’s reaction to her couldn’t be discounted or ignored. Surely there was some kind of connection.
“Unless you want to cut her loose. Considering everything she’s been through, she probably needs a little help—and rest. Not whatever this is.”
Daire didn’t take the bait. Remy had evidently decided to take Bryn under her wing. And without asking, Bryn was now enveloped by the protective cover of Ben’s team.
Ben was currently eyeing Daire like he wanted to say something.
“What?”
“I always knew there was something different about you. I just never guessed it was this.”
Malachi’s coffee remained on the table, untouched. He spoke low, “Verily I say unto you, there be some standing here which shall not taste of death till they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom.”
Daire absorbed the tenor of the man’s words.
“You were there?” Malachi asked.
“I don’t remember it,” Daire said. “I was a baby.”
“He knew.” Malachi’s gaze held some kind of weighty understanding Daire couldn’t begin to fathom. Like he wasn’t surprised by any of this. Which might have been the most surprising part of it all.
“Uh…what are you guys talking about?”
Daire turned to Shadrach. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No way.”
“Shadrach’s right,” Ben said. “That doesn’t fly here.”
Malachi said, “Daire has been alive for thousands of years. Aging very slowly, right?”
Daire nodded.
Shadrach pushed his chair back and stood. He ran one hand through his Marine haircut. “We’re just going back to business as usual?” He clapped and in the corner of the room his German shepherd sat up. “Boom. Daire’s an immortal. Now we all go back to work? Because this is. In. Sane. Do you not get that this is literally crazy?”
Shadrach’s reaction didn’t bother him. Not when the man always blew hot and fast. Daire was just glad Ben’s brother Grant hadn’t shown up to the team meeting. He hadn’t dealt well with the fact Ben had been tied to a mythical golem as a teen. Finding out Daire had been alive since the first century would be a hard pill for him to swallow. Shadrach needed to process out loud. The two of them together would mean the team would be here all day, rehashing every moment of Daire’s life, trying to figure out what had happened.
“There’s a threat out there,” Daire said. “Just like yesterday, just like today, and just like there will be tomorrow.”
Shadrach shot him a look. “Don’t tell me this is like any other job because it isn’t. Even with everything that happened to Ben.” He turned to Remy. “You knew about this?”
Her face was guarded. “You all have particular...issues. Daire’s involved keeping his identity secure in a way that negated his ti
es to historical records.”
“I told her to keep it to herself.” This wasn’t the conversation he’d thought they would have after just telling them how old he was. He’d figured they would all have a million questions about the Druid. “And what I choose to tell Remy isn’t any of your business. You can’t blame her that I needed her help.”
It wasn’t like the woman was honor bound to divulge all secrets to Shadrach. As far as Daire knew, their relationship wasn’t at that place. Yet. Evidently, that didn’t stop Shadrach from getting pissed at the fact he’d been in the dark.
Shadrach turned and headed out the back door. Dauntless followed him out, the tags on his collar jingling.
Daire got up to follow, but Remy jumped up. “It’s fine. I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t let him give you a hard time for not saying anything.”
She turned back at the door, chin raised. “It isn’t an easy thing to accept, you know. It took me a while as well.”
“You think I don’t know what ‘hard’ is? I went through puberty for six hundred years.”
Malachi snorted.
Remy slammed the door on her way out. It made him smile. She wasn’t scared of him, or Ben. Or Malachi, it seemed. She’d come a long way since being attacked, and he was proud of her.
Ben said, “If all this hadn’t happened, would you ever have told me?”
“Honestly, probably not. I thought it was done, and he was dead.” Daire shrugged. “I was living my life.”
“You have more destiny than that.” Malachi’s voice held an echo, a weight to it Daire couldn’t pinpoint. “Fight it as much as you want, but one day, you’ll find yourself right back in that place you walked away from. Called up to fight again.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
Malachi shrugged one shoulder. “Guess I came to the right place.”
“So what’s next?” Ben looked at Daire. “This is your deal, so you run the mission.”
“There’s a second book to safeguard. It’s buried on the grounds of St. Michael’s church in a village in England called Canewdon.”
He moved to Remy’s computer and clicked the mouse on the right open window. It opened to surveillance Daire had set up from an adjacent house in the village. The bathroom on the west side of the house overlooked the graveyard surrounding the old stone church.
Malachi turned in his chair. “If it’s safeguarded so well, why draw the attention of whoever is watching you by going there to retrieve it? Why not just leave it hidden?”
Daire straightened. “I thought of that too. The Past is gone. We can’t let him get all three. If I can get my hands on just one of the books, he can only do so much with what he has.”
“Fair enough.” Ben shifted in his seat and pulled a flip phone from his back pocket. “I’ll get with our pilot. Have him file a flight plan that’ll get us to England.”
Daire said, “Tell him we need to land in Southend.”
They’d have to pass through immigration when they got there, but the right identification—along with pounds sterling to grease the right palms—would get them cleared quickly enough.
By the time the plane landed at the small airport, it was night. Daire drove the rental car through the adjacent town. They all kind of blended together with barely discernible borders. Beyond was farmland and those winding country roads. Canewdon sat by itself on a hill. The entire drive would be twenty minutes, which was also the time it took to walk the length of the village of Canewdon and back. If you were ambling.
The church was on the west side of town, where its tower watched over the village. No matter how many times Daire drove these streets, it was still weird to be on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road. Especially on tiny streets that were barely wide enough for two cars. And had insane speed limits.
He drove all the way to the gate of the church grounds and parked.
Malachi climbed out of the rental. By the time Daire turned off the engine and he and Ben got out, the guy had disappeared into the dark.
Daire shut the door and walked to the gate. It squeaked as he opened it, the sound like a siren in the stillness of almost midnight.
A rustle ahead of them drew his attention. Daire flipped on a flashlight and shone it in the direction of the sound.
The lone red fox in the graveyard looked up at him, then ran off toward a dark corner.
Those eyes.
He could almost understand why Bryn would be scared of the dark. Of the wind. Given what he knew the Druid could do, it made sense to be cautious at least. The way the Druid could control nature and the elements made Daire wary of each step he took.
He stuck to the pavement, Ben right behind him. The path ran to the big stone church, then split to go around both sides. Gravestones dotted the grass around them. Some recent, others tilted over from centuries of weather.
The air hung thick and heavy. He couldn’t help remembering the stories the young boy had told him last time he was here.
“It’s supposed to be haunted.”
Ben huffed out a breath. “Stories of spirits. I can see why someone might pick this place. Out of the way, a quiet town.”
“It’s a village.”
“It’s creepy is what it is.”
“You should see it on Halloween.” Daire shook his head. He’d resisted the urge to run screaming the last time. “That’s why I picked it. People would be less inclined to wade in if they’re already scared there might be some kind of evil spirit hanging around.”
“At a church?” Ben asked. “This is supposed to be a holy place, and yet demons—or whatever they are—they’re the ones choosing to occupy it? I’d have thought they might be more at home in the village pub than the church.”
Daire’s lips curled up into a smile. “Can’t say I’ve ever thought of it like that.”
“Not that I believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t either. I know what spiritual things lurk beyond the veil, and they’re not friendly apparitions or mischievous beings.” He crouched in front of a gravestone half buried by overgrown grass and pulled away handfuls of thin strands of the grass from around the stone. The smell of dirt filled the air.
“Dalton Callaghan,” Ben read from the stone, flat on the grass. “Sounds weirdly familiar, given I’m standing here with Daire O’Callaghan.” He was quiet for a minute while Daire cleared the rest of the grass. “Who was he?”
“A soldier in the American war of Independence. When we lost,” Daire said, sounding more British than he had in a long time, “he went AWOL. Became a pirate of sorts. Spent the next twenty-five years sailing the Caribbean Sea, perpetually drunk.”
“You don’t like losing?”
“I don’t like war. I don’t like watching people die and having to walk away at the end.” Knowing he, himself, didn’t get to die. Knowing he had to live.
Ben stood quietly behind him. Daire wedged his fingers under the edge of the headstone and flipped it on its face. Beneath was a mass of wriggling worms bathing in wet mud. Daire sank his fingers into the dirt. He pulled clumps out and tossed them aside. When he’d dug down far enough, he found the metal box.
He pulled it to the surface and set it on his knees. The lock was a puzzle that took him two tries to remember.
When he flipped the lid open, Ben crouched. He shined his own flashlight inside the box where a leather-bound book had been wrapped in material. Thin strips of yellowed cloth wound around it, the rest having long since rotted away.
“I’ll take one of those to go.” Ben’s voice was alert. Not the relaxed tone he’d had just a minute ago.
Daire closed the lid and stood. He tucked the box under his arm. “What is it?”
“Movement around the hedge line.” Ben touched a finger to the comms in his ear. “Malachi?”
There was no answer in Daire’s own earpiece.
“I was just thinking it was time to go.” He palmed the gun he’d tuck
ed in the holster under his jacket. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Ben said.
They strode through the grounds of the church again, back toward the car. They’d been on the ground in England less than an hour. Mission accomplished.
So long as they got out of here.
Ben stuck out a hand, waylaying Daire. Before he could pinpoint the source of the scratching noise he’d also heard, an animal emerged from the hedge to his left.
No, not an animal. It was a man. Crawling. Hands and feet on the ground, the guy lumbered toward him in a bear crawl. Another did the same to his right, beyond where Ben stood beside him. In the next few seconds, he counted six total.
“Seven.” Ben pointed behind them, where one crawled on the roof of the church.
“He’s going to fall off any second,” Daire said. “I didn’t even count him.”
“I’ll take the four on the left since you’re carrying that box.”
“You want to pretend the one on the roof fell because of you, that’s your business. I’ll take my half and know my victory was an honorable one.”
Ben shoved him away, then kicked out at the air between them. “Go on then, pirate. Show me what you’ve got.”
Daire grinned into the dark of midnight. A flash of movement, a rustle, and one of the intruders slammed into him. Daire landed on his back, the sky nothing but black clouds and no stars to see.
He shoved at the weight and another barreled on top. Hands reached for the box now poking him in the ribs. Daire pushed the discomfort away and pointed his gun at his attacker’s torso. The silencer dulled the bullet’s sound down to a snap, still audible but not loud enough to draw the attention of locals at home for the night.
Two more bullets and the man still hadn’t quit grasping for the box. Did he not know he’d been hit? Daire slammed the gun down on the guy’s head, which bought him a second or two of disorientation. He pushed at the weight and rolled, using the momentum to come up.
The second one landed on him. Teeth snapped. The image of Bryn with Roy’s head in her neck, tasting flesh, filled his mind. Daire shot three more times, bullets that seemed to have no effect.
He wrestled free of the grip. Was this thing man, or beast, or something else? He got his feet underneath him and ran toward the sound of Ben scuffling with more of them.
