Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Eamon’s returning smile was tight, his battle mode still engaged. “I know you’d have it under control, but I have a feeling we’re going to need her. Pick her up and let’s take her back to the car. She can have the backseat.”

  “You sure about that?” Kean asked. “The last thing you want in a moving car is a suddenly-conscious, pissed-off witch.”

  “I’ll ride with them,” Siobhan said, picking Gayla up and slinging the woman over her shoulder with ease. “For backup.”

  Autumn had only just met the blonde woman briefly, but she liked her. Siobhan had a strength about her that emanated from her whole body. She was stunningly gorgeous, too, and she didn’t seem to realize it. She was the opposite of Nova’s vanity and petulance, and Autumn wanted to be friends with her in the future.

  If they all lived through disabling centuries-worth of stored power.

  Ronan, Kean, Isabelle, and Leah got into one car, and Autumn got into the passenger seat of Eamon’s car, Siobhan keeping hold of Gayla in the back. She gave directions to her house, Ronan following closely behind Eamon. It felt surreal to Autumn that they were driving through Boston traffic with four dragon shifters and three witches piled into their cars and nobody was the wiser. They stopped at red lights and signaled for their turns, and Autumn was once again reminded that the supernatural world could so easily take place right under the average person’s nose.

  It took them only twenty minutes to get to her house, but it felt like an age. All of them had stayed silent, except for Autumn’s directions, preparing for what was to come. They didn’t know what or who was waiting for them in the blue house with the strange flag and the basement filled with magical energy, and Autumn felt the tension as much as the rest of them.

  When Eamon parked, Ronan taking the spot behind him, he looked over at her, his expression serious. “I want to ask you to wait out here, but I’m not going to. You have fought hard for this, and I know why. Just please—I can’t lose you. Promise me that you’ll be careful and run if I tell you to.”

  “I promise,” Autumn said quietly, reaching for his hand. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  They leaned toward each other, kissing softly, and behind them, Siobhan looked the other way, pretending that she wasn’t witnessing this tender moment.

  Not knowing how much time they had before Gayla came to her senses or before Nova found them again, they got out of the car, Eamon signaling for Kean and Ronan to stay as lookouts as he and Autumn approached the house. Autumn looked back over her shoulder, and Isabelle waved her on, giving her a big, dramatic thumbs-up.

  Autumn didn’t know what that meant, but it oddly made her feel better as Eamon placed his hand on the doorknob and turned slowly. It was locked, of course, and Autumn watched as her man thrust his strong shoulder against the door and splintered the wood in half.

  Hoping that Isabelle’s encouragement meant that she didn’t sense anyone in the house, Autumn swallowed her nerves and followed Eamon inside, stepping over the jagged wood. The first floor looked barren and empty, no furniture there to break up the space. There was a coat of dust on the floor, along the mantle, and on the windowsills, and Autumn felt a chill move over her. It was clear that nobody was living in this house, and the emptiness somehow echoed in her ears—or maybe that was the sound of her own thudding heart.

  Eamon took her hand as they neared the basement steps. They looked at each other, and then Eamon took the first step, the wood creaking under his foot.

  That was the signal, triggering the reaction they had both known was coming at some point. There was no way that Nova and Gayla had left their precious stores unguarded, and now, with that creak, doors all over the house opened, revealing hooded men and women who began to advance on Eamon and Autumn, crowding them toward the stairs and blocking any route they had for escape.

  Eamon stepped in front of Autumn, putting his body between theirs and hers. “Go,” he told her. “Go downstairs. Don’t come up. I’ll hold them off.”

  Autumn knew he meant for her to hide down in the basement until he had defeated the crowds coming toward him, but when she followed his directive, it was not with the intention of waiting in the corner, hoping to avoid the fight. She ran down the stairs with the intention finding and destroying the altar that powered the people who had turned her life upside down and almost cost her children their lives.

  She didn’t worry about Eamon, knowing that he was strong enough to handle anything and that Kean, Siobhan, and Ronan would come running in for backup. She left the fight to them, and she—she was going to find the source and end all of it before anyone else got hurt.

  There was no missing the altar. The moment that Autumn stepped foot on the concrete basement floor, she saw the large opening at the far end, a glow emanating from it. She hurried toward it, kneeling at the edge and staring down at the intricately carved stone structure lit up with hundreds of glowing objects of all shapes and sizes. There, right in front of her, was centuries worth of stored-up magic that, when released into a waiting witch, would give her the power to control the entire state’s population, directing thousands of human beings with just a whim.

  It was an overwhelming sight, and Gayla’s words echoed back to Autumn.

  You can’t just release all of that. There has to be balance!

  Autumn swallowed hard, knowing that if she took the risk and destroyed the altar, the repercussions could be beyond her imagination and totally out of her control. If she didn’t take the risk, then the results could be the same. She looked over her shoulder, the sounds of the fight between the hooded underlings and Eamon and his friends growing louder by the minute. She was down here, by herself, with nothing stopping her from acting, and she might never have this chance again.

  Did she dare to pass this moment up? If it never came again and Nova took over the whole city and state, then it would be her fault for failing to act.

  “Go ahead.”

  Whirling, Autumn found Nova’s image standing behind her, an eager look in her eyes.

  “Go on, then. You want to destroy it, then do it. Release all of it. Think how good all of that power will feel when it flows through you.”

  “I don’t want the power. I want it destroyed. I want it released,” Autumn said, standing up and facing Nova, every cell in her body prepared to defend herself. She might have claw marks stretched across her back, but the pain hadn’t stopped her yet, and she wouldn’t let it stop her now if Nova came after her.

  “Everybody wants power,” Nova said. “Go ahead. Take it. You’ve already defeated Gayla, and she’s one of the most powerful witches in the world. Think what more you could do if you took what’s waiting for you there.”

  Autumn narrowed her eyes, unsure what the woman’s game was this time. “You want me to have the power. Why?”

  Nova smiled, but there was a cruel edge to it. “I think you’ve earned it.”

  Autumn didn’t believe the woman for a second, and she was in no way tempted by the offer of power. All she knew was that if Nova wanted her to release it, then doing so had to somehow benefit Nova, and Autumn refused to fall into her trap.

  “Go ahead,” Nova urged. “What’s stopping you? We could rule together. Your life hasn’t been easy, has it, Autumn? It could be now.”

  Pretending to consider the offer, Autumn let her gaze drift back toward the altar behind her. She swallowed hard, licking her lips, her acting skills put to full use. “I couldn’t.”

  “You could. You have to.” Nova floated closer toward her. “It’s the only way, Autumn. Go on. Break just one of the items. Smash it. Feel that power flow out into the world. Draw it into you.”

  She couldn’t break the objects. Autumn knew that now. She had been a nurse her whole adult life, and it suddenly occurred to her that the power that was stored in the altar and the objects surrounding it was like an infection within the body. If she poked or broke into that infection, it would spread throughout the whole b
ody, infecting everything it touched. Nova wanted that because she was bent on destruction now, however it had to happen. She would harness as much of the power as possible and then watch it destroy everyone else.

  If Autumn wanted to stop her, she had to find the irritant that was causing the infection and remove that, allowing the infection to go away naturally. It was what worked in the body, and Autumn didn’t know if it applied to the situation she was now faced with, but it was all she had to go on.

  Stepping backward, Autumn forced herself to act as though she was being persuaded by Nova’s offer of power. She trembled, biting her lip as she stood on the edge of the opening that held the altar, staring down into the glowing light.

  “Go on,” Nova whispered. “Take them. Touch them. Hold them in your hands and feel what could be yours.”

  Slowly, Autumn crouched down again, bracing herself on the edge of the opening and lowering herself into it. She was very careful not to touch any of the objects, and pretended to be entranced by the glow, staring openly at the luminescent altar. While Nova watched her gleefully, what Autumn was really doing was looking for something—anything—that would shut down the power she was looking at without releasing it into the world.

  Above her, Autumn could hear the chaos of battle, but down in the basement, it was just her own wits, Nova, and the altar before her. She licked her lips and moved toward the altar itself, stepping carefully around the objects that surrounded it. Her hands slid down the sides of the structure as Nova peered down on her from above, whispering encouragement.

  “Feel that?” Nova murmured. “That’s pure, unadulterated power in there. All you have to do is tap into it. Break it. Smash it. Release it, then take it all for yourself.”

  Autumn blocked out the woman’s words, trying to focus on what she had to do, and when she blocked Nova out, another voice whispered to her, this time in her thoughts.

  Switch it off. The altar. Switch it off. It’s like a breaker system. There’s no power in any of the rooms if you just switch the breaker off.

  Isabelle. It was her voice in Autumn’s head. She didn’t know how Isabelle had invaded her thoughts, but she had never been so glad to hear someone’s voice. The woman might not be the most capable or practiced witch, but she had helped them get this far, and Autumn chose to trust her.

  She called out to Isabelle in her mind, without knowing if the woman would hear her. Where? Tell me where to look.

  “What are you waiting for?” Nova asked from above her, seeming to grow impatient. “Break it, then. It’s your only choice. Release the power.”

  Don’t listen to her, Isabelle said. With Gayla gone, Nova can only access the power if you release it for her. You won’t be able to channel it, because you don’t have magic. She will be able to channel it, and if she does, there’s no taking her down. She’s changed tactics. She’s cutting Gayla out, and she’s hoping you’re foolish enough to fall for it. You won’t have any power at all. Don’t do it. Turn the switch off.

  Autumn didn’t need to be told that Nova’s motives were hardly altruistic, but she appreciated having her suspicions confirmed. Isabelle was there, coaching her along, but she hadn’t responded to Autumn’s question, which meant that Isabelle couldn’t hear her. She could only talk, not listen, and that meant that Autumn was on her own to find this switch. Except she didn’t know where to begin looking.

  It’ll be underneath. Rooted in the earth. The earth is always the best source of power. There will be something—something occurring in nature, not something manmade—and if you destroy that …you destroy all of it. It has to be rooted in something, Autumn. It’s not just me saying it! Leah agrees.

  That last bit almost made Autumn smile; it was such an Isabelle thing to say. She got closer, feeling around the base of the altar. The problem with Isabelle’s directions was that the altar appeared to be sitting on concrete and not rooted in earth, as suggested. But as Autumn felt beneath the outer lip of the altar, her fingers touched a ridge, and then dirt. Her heart began to beat harder as she realized that the answer might be at her fingertips. The altar was rooted in the earth, and below the top level of dirt, if she could just dig her hands in further, she could find the switch that powered it all.

  “What are you doing?” Nova demanded, hovering closer. “All you have to do is break the objects, you little—” She cut herself off, visibly struggling to maintain her cool. “I mean, all you have to do to take power is begin breaking the orbs. That’s all. It’s so simple. And then you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

  “I just need to feel the power for myself,” Autumn told the woman, leaning against the altar as though she was trying to commune with it. Meanwhile, her hands were digging through the dirt. There was barely enough space between the two levels of concrete for her fingers to fit, but when she felt the first brush of a petal against her fingertips, she knew she was close.

  “Enough!” Nova said, growing nervous as the sounds of the battle upstairs grew closer to the top of the stairs. “We don’t have much time. We can rule together, Autumn. You and me. We’re partners. You can do more than Gayla ever could. Just break one little orb, Autumn. One little one.”

  Autumn wrapped her fingers around the flower stem buried in the dirt as she heard something she couldn’t see tumble down the stairs, shouts following. There was no more time, and she had the power in her hand. “You sound like a junkie jonesing for a hit,” she told Nova, looking over her shoulder so that she could watch the emotion on the woman’s face as she realized that Autumn had never been swayed by her promises. “And I’m going to flush your stash.”

  Realization hit Nova just as Autumn ripped the stem out of the earth and snapped it in two pieces.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Eamon

  There were endless hooded enemies; they were pouring out of the closets and the empty rooms of the house and coming down from the second floor and in from the windows. Eamon fought them alone at first, keeping them off of him and away from the staircase he had sent Autumn down. Ronan, Kean, and Siobhan all came rushing in when they heard the chaos, and the four of them fought together, but even so, it was almost impossible to keep up with the flow of hooded men and women that kept pouring in, throwing themselves at the four Dragon clan members relentlessly.

  As he threw one hooded figure over one shoulder and pinned another to the wall with one hand while using the other hand to yank someone off Siobhan so she could deal with the other two she was facing, Eamon could only hope that Autumn was safely out of all of it. She hadn’t come up from the basement, and he knew it was either because something had happened to her or because she was honoring his desire to keep her out of the thick of the fray.

  The problem was that he knew Autumn, and he knew there was very little that would keep her out of the fight, no matter how much she loved him and wanted to give him what he wanted.

  There was no sign of the hooded figures slowing, and Eamon’s concern only grew as the minutes kept ticking by. He started to make his way to the top of the staircase, throwing people off him right and left, trying to free himself enough that he could go downstairs and make sure that Autumn was safe. But he threw one person off him and the hooded man went tumbling right down the stairs. Eamon hurried after him, determined to keep him away from Autumn, and other hooded figures began to follow, streaming down the staircase.

  Eamon was just three steps away from the basement floor when the flash happened, knocking him backward and blinding him. Screams followed the flash, but he was too blinded and disoriented to figure out who was screaming and why. All he could do was call out for Autumn.

  “Autumn! Autumn, where are you? Autumn!”

  Ear-piercing screams continued to fill the basement, reverberating off the walls and throbbing in Eamon’s ears. Scurrying sounds of hooded figures surrounded him, and he started trying to blindly feel his way around, needing to find some sign of Autumn amidst the chaos.

  “Autumn! Autumn, where a
re you?”

  The light began to fade, and when he began to regain his sight, Eamon was shocked at what he saw. The basement looked like it had been blown up from underneath, cracks all through the concrete and black ash covering everything. The hooded figures that had tumbled down the stairs after him were nowhere to be seen, and the screams that still vibrated around him were coming from the quivering ball of light hovering nearby an opening in the ground.

  Slowly, Eamon walked toward the opening, afraid of what he might find. He ignored the shuddering, screaming glow and knelt at the edge, looking down at a dark, dank, dusty-looking altar surrounded by tarnished, grungy orbs and artifacts. There was no doubt that this was the sought-after altar, but it hardly looked powerful. It looked dead, dark, and broken, just like the woman who lay beside it.

  “Autumn,” he whispered, his heart in his throat. “Oh God. Autumn.”

  He jumped down into the opening, kneeling beside Autumn and gathering her into his arms, her cold, inert body rigid as he pressed her to him.

  “Autumn—please,” he whispered. “Please don’t be gone. Don’t be gone.”

  “Eamon.”

  It was Ronan’s voice above him, but Eamon couldn’t look up at his friend. He couldn’t look away from Autumn’s pale face.

  “Eamon, they’re gone. The hooded fighters are all gone. Bring her out of there. Let’s get her to a hospital.” Ronan knelt down, reaching for him. “Come on. There’s no time to waste.”

  As if in a daze, Eamon handed Autumn up to his friend and crawled out of the altar’s opening. The mass of light was still screeching, but Eamon still ignored it. He didn’t care what it was or what had happened to the altar or the hooded figures or Nova or Gayla or any of them. Autumn was limp and lifeless in Ronan’s arms, and as long as that was how she remained, Eamon’s world was dark and small.

  She was all that mattered, and if she was gone, then Eamon might as well be too.