A Gilded Cage (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 1)

by Auburn Tempest

  The spellbooks fly off the seat, and I’m half-reaching for them when gravity shifts and it’s only my seatbelt holding me to the cushion. My back flares with numbness that spreads from my Fianna mark until it swallows my entire body.

  My shield.

  Over and over I go until a massive bang has me rocking violently and my brains rattling. Something slams into me with bone-breaking force and a foul smell.

  A sharp pain follows… Then nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Red, sweet mother of mercy, wake up.

  It’s the panic in Kyle’s voice that cuts through the darkness and brings back images of being t-boned and rolled in the intersection. That shouldn’t have happened. I still had the right of way. Da’s going to kill me. No. First, he’ll tell me he loves me more than life—then he’ll kill me.

  “Are you okay? You didn’t get injured in the crash, did you?”

  Are ye daft? I’m a feckin’ spirit bear. In this form, I’m nothin’ more than air in yer lungs.

  Right. “Sorry. I’m not firing on all pistons. What happened? Was anyone hurt? The other driver?”

  The other driver was yer Skull Trim bastard. It wasn’t an accident, Fi. He plowed into ye to stop ye from getting away. Yer not in a hospital. Yer his captive.

  The horror of that reality stirs me fully awake.

  I’m lying on a cot within a clear, acrylic cage.

  “Sloan!” I roll off the cot, and thankfully it’s low to the ground because my legs are Jell-O and don’t hold my weight. I hit my knees hard on the concrete floor, but the flash of pain is a drop in the pan. I feel like I’ve been run over.

  Oh yeah… I have.

  I send up a prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever blessed me with a magical Fianna shield. I have no doubt that without it, I wouldn’t be moving at all right now.

  I manage to crawl to Sloan. He’s slumped over and bleeding on a second cot. “Wake up, surly.” I press two fingers to the side of his neck and draw a steadying breath. He’s alive. “How long has he been unconscious?”

  Sorry. When yer out cold, all I get is darkness.

  “Okay. Then we’ll figure this out together.”

  I sit back on my heels and take stock. The cell is a ten-foot cube with a line of two-inch air holes running along the ceiling and a steel beam barring the door on the outside.

  The prison is set in the center of a much larger space, the walls of the bigger room stark white and nondescript. Everything in both the inner and outer areas is either metal or plastic or acrylic.

  “Homey.”

  The significance of my surroundings clicks. Nothing in the space carries natural energy. It’s a druid magic dead zone.

  “Who are you?” I shout. “What do you want?”

  Static crackles above my head and I stare at the speaker built into the thick, acrylic ceiling. The line opens, and everything goes quiet. “I’m known by many names, Fiona. And as fer what I want…well, that’s quite simple actually. I want everythin’ due me.”

  I can think of a few things he deserves, but that isn’t likely what he means. “Uh-huh, and how did I get mixed up in your quest of entitlement?”

  “Ye called the mark. How?”

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously, you sound like a broken record. I didn’t do anything. One night I’m drinking at a pub. I go out back to toss the trash, get suckered into a brawl in the back lot, and whammy, the mark came to life.”

  I honestly have no idea if this is one of those moments Myra mentioned about not sharing personal details if I don’t want to end up dead. If so, oops.

  “Quid pro quo, asswipe. What did you do to Sloan?”

  “Nothing compared to what I will do if ye try anything.”

  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to pose a threat when I’m stuck in a sealed box.

  “You sure are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

  I laugh. “Does that line work on any of the girls you stalk, run over with your car, then kidnap?”

  “I left a bottle of water on the floor beside the cot. You should drink it. You’re likely dehydrated after the accident.”

  “Hard pass.” I glance at the bottle. “I was mistakenly roofied once at the bar. It’s no fun. Nothing bad happened, and it was awful. I’m not about to volunteer for a second round. What did you put in it?”

  “Nothing terrible. Just a wee something that makes my guests a little friendlier. We are friends, aren’t we?”

  “No. Friends don’t roofie friends.”

  “Poetic. Ye should put that on a t-shirt.”

  I ignore the playful banter and check on Sloan. He’s still out cold. With no idea why he isn’t waking up, I turn him this way and that and do a quick inventory to make sure he’s not bleeding or anything.

  Huh. I find two small red dots on his collarbone.

  Either a vampire bit him or two very talented mosquitos lined up perfectly before feeding. Man, if Sloan hadn’t opened the door to that particular vault of crazy a couple of hours ago, I wouldn’t have gone there.

  But he did…and I do.

  I stare up at the speaker cover, which now that I think of it is weird. There’s no reason to talk to the speaker. After dropping my gaze, I sweep the white room around me. “If we’re done with the get to know you session, I’d like to leave.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. You see, there are a great many projects in the works right now, and the knowledge of a Cumhaill druid setting up in town is bound to chuck a wrench into the cogs.”

  “So, you try to solicit a gang of criminals to wipe out my family? Not cool, dude.”

  “Yes. You seem to have a knack for foiling my plans.”

  “Aw, shucks, you give me too much credit.”

  A phone rings on his end, and the speaker makes the same squelching sound as it shuts off. It seems rude that he can listen to my conversations and I can’t listen to his.

  “Mmm.” Sloan stirs.

  Yes. His mint-green eyes crack open, but there’s no focus. His head lolls to the side like it weighs a million pounds.

  “Hey, Mackenzie, it’s me. You’re okay.” When he tries to sit up, I press a firm hand on his chest. “Give it a minute. I think you got whammied by a vampire.”

  “Fer fuck’s sake,” he mumbles, his eyes still closed. “What is it about you that draws this level of crazy?”

  I don’t think it’s a real question, so I don’t attempt to answer it.

  “Where are we?”

  “In Skull Trim prison.”

  He manages to lift his head, so I help him sit. Because he’s wonky, I sit beside him to prop him up. “What happened? One minute you were tackling him and the next, you poofed him away.”

  “He poofed me.” His voice is groggy. “Do ye honestly think I’d ever leave ye in a fight when there were more of them after ye?”

  I never really thought about that. “No. You wouldn’t.”

  “What about the other two that had ye surrounded?”

  “Dead. I got one with a cutlass and shot the other with his gun.”

  He nods, then winces as if he regrets the motion. “I got portaled out and was wrapped in a fight when a second man joined the fun. By his strength and the fact that he bit me and knocked me out, I’d say our Skull Trim is friends with at least one vampire.”

  “He knows about the mark of the Fianna, and can portal, too. Do you think he’s a druid?”

  He lifts one shoulder in a lackluster shrug. “Hard to say. Maybe… But he’s more. His power has a foul stink to it that bodes of black magic.”

  I remember the stink from the car accident right before I passed out. “Yeah, like mothballs trying to mask the reek of rotten, maggot-ridden garbage.”

  “Otherwise known as black magic.” Sloan smiles a little and turns his attention to our surroundings. “We need to get out of here.”

  I nod and clamp my hands around his wrist. “Okeydokey. Let’s go. Beam us out, Scotty.”

  Ex
cept we don’t go anywhere.

  “Are you broken? This is not the best time to be offline.”

  He stabs me with a look and balls his fists. “Could ye feck off fer five seconds and give me a chance to clear my head?”

  I give him some space. “Okay, dialing it down a few notches. Sorry. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but when I’m nervous, I get snark-happy.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Sloan stares at the airholes.

  I follow his gaze and try my best to be quiet, which lasts all of five seconds. “Oh! I have an idea. Come. Sit with me.”

  I point to the concrete floor and strike the meditation pose, knees crossed, and shoulders loose. I shake my hands to release the tension, and he’s still sitting lopsided on the cot.

  “You’re not joining.”

  No. He’s frowning. “I get that we need to have cool heads, but I’ve recently been snacked on and drugged by vampire venom. I don’t think I’m in the headspace right now for meditating.”

  I point to the floor again. “Humor me. I did more than play Animal Crossing and learn Elvis tribute routines from Patty. That little Man o’ Green taught me a few things that might come in handy in this situation.”

  With a groan of submission, he slides off the cot and ass-plants in front of me. He crosses his legs and, knees to knees, I take his hands gently in my fingers and swing his arms loose. “I’m going to take you into my happy place. Then, I’ll tell you my plan. Ready?”

  Sloan exhales heavily. “Why must I be trapped with a pint half-full cheerleader? The Fates hate me.”

  “Nonsense. Breathe with me. Here we go.”

  When Patty first showed me how to retreat into myself, he described it as sending my consciousness into the trunk of my body. Like a tree, there is a hollow where those with magic hold and nurture it.

  It doesn’t matter whether it’s a spark like the druids or essence or root power or whatever, fae energy must be stored and protected somewhere within.

  Patty said it could be in someone’s mind, their heart, their lungs…it doesn’t matter. Mine is in my chest. The tricky part is taking a visitor. I’m not sure if I could do it if Sloan weren’t as powerful and well-trained as he is, but that’s a question for another day.

  Right now, we need to get outta Dodge.

  When I open my eyes, he and I sit on the dance floor in Shenanigans, still with our legs crossed, still gently holding each other’s fingers.

  Behind Sloan’s head, Da is at the bar pulling the tap. He fills a pint glass and hands the draught across the bar to—I lean to the side to see around Sloan and suck in a breath.

  Brendan.

  My big brother laughs at something Da says, and the sound of his voice fills me with joy. Gone is his undercover scruff. His dark hair is cut, and he looks like he always did.

  “How is he here?”

  Sloan stands and grips my elbow to help me up. “Ye hold his spark inside ye as well as yer father’s. I suppose they’re here because their magic is here. Ye’ve manifested them the way ye remember them.”

  I squeeze Sloan’s arm. “Does that mean he’ll stay here? That I can see him when I need him?”

  Sloan shrugs. “I can’t say. This is yer trick, remember?”

  Movement in one of the booths draws my attention to the wee man raising a pint to me from atop the table. I offer Patty a wave and wonder why he’s here. Did I manifest him? Is he here because I carry his gift? Because he showed me how to get here and has been here with me before? Or because I inadvertently created a bond of gratitude with him by thanking him outright for my stone?

  I’m mulling over all the possible reasons when Sloan taps my shoulder. “Hello? Ye said ye wanted to show me something. Is that still yer plan?”

  “Right.” I look around and close my eyes, willing another to join us.

  “Hello, Red.” Kyle lumbers close.

  He bumps me with his muscled shoulder, and I bend over and hug the ruff of his neck. “Hello, Bear. How about we bust out of this prison? I think I figured out a way.”

  “Do tell,” says Sloan.

  “Kyle wisps out the airholes of our prison in his spirit bear form. We wait until someone comes into the outer room to feed us or talk in person, then he does his Killer Clawbearer shredding on them.”

  Sloan eyes my bear. “If it’s a vampire who comes through the door, ye’ll need to decapitate him, Bear. Not much else will stop a vamp.”

  I try not to imagine that and get back to my plan. “Once whoever comes in here is out of commission, Kyle unlatches the bar locking us in. Then it’s a matter of exiting the cleanroom and you poofing us the hell home.”

  Sloan nods. “I give ye points for the plan. There’s only one problem. Ye can’t cast yer bear.”

  “Unless she is holding me in on purpose and she can.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not. I told you that, but I think that in here, we can merge our powers enough that maybe I’ll be able to. Da? Brendan? Will you two come over here for a sec, please?”

  The two of them set down their glasses and join us on the dance floor. In my head, I know this isn’t really Brendan, but he’s a manifestation of my memories of him. I’ll take it. Before I explain what I want, I give him a big hug.

  “What’s this about, boo?”

  I smile. Brendan always called me boo when I was little. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, chickypoo.”

  I drink in the sight of him for one more second, then pull back and explain what I need.

  “…and so, I think if the four of us join hands around Kyle, we can amp my energy enough to set him free. Does that make sense?”

  “I’m game.” Brendan grabs my hand and reaches for Da. My father takes Brenny’s hand, then takes Sloan’s. Before I close the circle and take Sloan’s, I reach into my pocket and take out the peridot stone that Patty gave me.

  “You said it clarifies the mind and increases willpower. We can use both right about now.”

  Sloan closes the circle by taking my hand with my leprechaun casting stone pressed between our palms.

  “Okay, give me all you got, boys. Let’s set this bad boy loose. And Bear? You don’t have to kill them if whoever comes isn’t lethally dangerous. If you can knock them out or maim them, that’s good too. Except for the vampire… On second thought, you can kill Skull Trim too. He’s too dangerous to give a second chance. Him, you should definitely eliminate if the chance presents itself.”

  Sloan frowns. “Yer a scary woman, ye know that?”

  “Why, because I want to survive and not have a maniac targeting my entire family? If you expect me to feel bad about one less bad guy on the streets, you’ll be disappointed.”

  I meet the gaze of the others and nod. “Okay, on one. Three. Two. One.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Fi, thank the stars. Where have ye been?” Da is on his feet the moment we materialize in the living room and rushes to hug me. “Are ye all right, mo chroi? The police tracked yer plates to us, and we saw what’s left of poor, wretched Molly. How are ye?”

  “Sore.” I release Sloan’s hand and lean heavily on Kyle. “It’s been a day, I tell you.”

  “Sit, baby girl.” Aiden escorts me to my chair. “Are you guys hungry? Can we get you anything?”

  “Can I get a ginger ale? I’m nauseous from whatever spell Skull Trim hit me with.”

  Sloan shifts sideways and sinks into the club chair. He looks worse than I feel. Still, he got us home, so he gets bonus points for that. “I’ll take one as well, thanks.”

  “Why do you smell like smoke?”

  “We escaped by killing a vampire.” I accept the can of soda Calum hands me. “Sloan wanted us to burn the body so he didn’t revive or resurrect or whatever they do.”

  “You were taken by vampires?”

  I shake my head. “No, Skull Trim. The vampire was the jailor he put in charge of watching us.”

  “Skull Trim again?” Dillan confirms. “When Da got the c
all about the wreck, and we learned neither of you was anywhere to be found, we canvassed the witnesses. He T-boned you in the middle of an intersection in the middle of the day, and no one remembered seeing a thing.”

  “We knew it had to be a magic thing,” Calum adds. “Other major cities might have problems getting witnesses to speak up. That doesn’t happen here. If somebody sees it, we know about it.”

  “Yeah, it’s all a crazy blur. He whammied me with black magic, so that likely affected the witnesses too. I was so focused on getting away from the bookshop and getting home that I missed it. The truck came out of nowhere.”

  “Why were ye in a hurry to get away from a bookshop?” Da asks.

  “I wasn’t at first. I wanted to call you and wait for Sloan, but Myra said no. She wanted to keep the bodies, and I didn’t want to know what she wanted to do with them—”

  “Bodies?” Aiden repeats.

  “What bodies, Fi?” Da’s expression darkens.

  “The two guys I killed.”

  The boys reel and I realize I’m not telling the story well. Adrenaline is pumping hard through my body, and my thoughts are barreling out like a runaway train.

  Da stands before me and takes my hands. They’re shaking. Is it me shaking or him? I think it’s me. “Fi, what bookshop? Where were ye? Start at the beginning.”

  “We went to a magic bookshop where Sloan copied—oh, the books! Did you rescue them from the wreckage? Are the spellbooks all right?”

  Emmet blinks. “Are you all right?”

  I look to see if anyone is following. Nope. “The bundle of books in the front seat. There were two spellbooks. Are they hurt?”

  Da points to the front hall. “Yer car was a write-off. I had the contents collected and boxed. Fi, we were talking about ye killing two men. Can the books wait?”

  I hustle into the front hall and find two boxes sitting on the shoe bench. I pull the flaps of the first open and see the purchases from the crystal shop, a blanket, an ice scraper, and my emergency kit. I leave the box with the contents of Molly’s trunk and open the second box.