Graveyard Druid: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (The Colin McCool Paranormal Suspense Series Book 2)

by M. D. Massey

  You can’t stay here, either. Your time isn’t done yet. But don’t worry, my love. I won’t be long gone from you. She kissed me lightly on the lips. Now, go kick his ass.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The transformation was already taking place when I came back to consciousness. But this time was different. As always, I felt disconnected from myself, from that other side of myself—like a passenger on a roller coaster ride from hell.

  As I watched my body transform, warping into that massive, hideous beast, I tried to figure out what was different. Then I realized what it was; I wasn’t alone.

  I heard a voice inside my head. Which was weird, because I was inside my head.

  I calculate an eight-in-ten chance that the druid will destroy your Fomorian form. This is unacceptable.

  By this point, my Hyde-side was battling it out with the Dark Druid. And, the druid did appear to be winning. Yet, no matter how many times I—we—got pounded into the dirt by the druid’s magic, we popped right back up again and came at the old bastard one more time.

  But that couldn’t last forever. At some point, the damage would be more than my magically-altered cells could heal.

  I gave a mental shrug. “Well, I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. It’s not like I can just eat a Snickers and regain control of myself.”

  If you die, the druid will gain possession of me. He cannot wield me properly, and my purpose will not be fulfilled. This outcome is unacceptable.

  “Again, it sounds like tough titties to me, Eye. If you wanted to help out, you should have piped up before the evil druid started kicking my ass.”

  I cannot. Your human form will not allow me to communicate with you. It is only when you transform that I can speak to you in this way.

  “You know what? For a sentient magical object of unimaginable power, you’re no flipping help at all.”

  I am a transdimensional being trapped within a physical object that binds me to this plane of existence. The object is merely my anchor to this world. I am not a rock.

  “Whatever.” I remembered our first encounter, and mentally frowned. “By the way, what the hell happened to your great big booming ‘I channeled the power of a god!’ voice?”

  I am speaking directly to you, consciousness to consciousness. Sound volume has no meaning here, as the laws of physics do not apply.

  I watched through the eyes of my other self as the druid sliced off my arm at the elbow. It was a nifty spell—a thin sheet of hyper-compressed air moving at tremendous speed, basically the mass of an elephant compressed down to the width of a razor blade’s edge. Damn it but this guy was good. Except, he’d been aiming for my neck. My other self was too fast for him. But only just.

  You will soon die.

  “He will. But from the looks of it, I won’t feel a thing.”

  And actually, I didn’t. For some reason, I wasn’t as present in my other form as I had been in the past. The pain was still there, somewhere, but I just wasn’t receiving it at full volume. I felt helpless, sure, but only in the way you might feel helpless to stop a car accident happening right in front of you. Was it upsetting? Yeah, but I’d just been with Jesse. In a few seconds, I’d be back with her. Seemed like an even trade.

  I cannot allow it. I need you alive.

  “Wait a minute—I thought you wanted the other me to wield you? Wasn’t that the whole point of this Vulcan mind-meld thing you did?”

  The other half of you will not listen. While I find its destructive nature to be appealing, and while its genetic code allows me to connect with your mind through my anchor, it is too feral to be of use to me.

  “Can’t you just fly out of my head and blast the Fear Doirich yourself?”

  There is not sufficient time to do so. It took a tremendous amount of energy and several hours to completely anchor my magic in your Fomorian form. I cannot instantly leave this body. By the time I did, the druid would already have defeated you.

  “Huh. Sounds like you screwed yourself when you anchored yourself in my skull. Well done.”

  If you were in control of your Fomorian form, we might work together. Our desired goals are aligned, although you cannot see that yet.

  “Again, Eye—you screwed yourself. I’m as much of a passenger here as you are.”

  Not so. My magic is sufficient to allow you control over your Fomorian form, at least for a short time. Long enough to defeat the druid, certainly.

  “Hmmm—nah, I think not. I have somebody waiting for me on the other side.”

  Unacceptable. I cannot allow your physical form to perish. Prepare for transposition of astral consciousness in three—two—

  “No, wait! I don’t want to—”

  —one.

  The sensation of returning to consciousness in my altered physical form hit me like a truck. All at once I felt more physically powerful than I ever had. I felt absolutely superhuman, at least for the span of a millisecond or so.

  Then the pain hit. The Fear Doirich was frying me, from the inside out. I had no reference point for this level of torment. The agony was something I’d never imagined possible. And the bitch of it was, I couldn’t even scream. All I could do was crouch on my knees and my remaining hand, virtually paralyzed.

  The druid’s current magical attack is super-heating the air inside your lungs and boiling the fluid within your body. While your Fomorian cells can renew organ tissue relatively quickly, we must counterattack immediately if you are to survive.

  I felt the Eye shifting inside my head, coming to rest somewhere behind my eyeballs.

  Lift your head.

  I did, although it took a tremendous effort.

  Now, open your eyes.

  I strained to open my eyes, fighting against the desire to pass out from the inferno raging inside my chest. As I did, a huge torrent of magical energy burst forth from each orbit, striking the druid square in the chest. The force of it threw him across the small cavern.

  Holy shit, I thought. I am freaking Darkseid.

  I have no knowledge of this entity. Again.

  I locked my eyes on the druid, who was struggling to his feet on the other side of the cave. Once more, the Eye’s magic focused and released through my own body, practically immolating the druid’s tunic. The old bastard was magically shielded, so the blast didn’t outright kill him. But even a hack druid like me could see that his wards wouldn’t hold much longer.

  I rose to my feet, which took a superhuman effort considering I was barely able to take air into my lungs. The pain was still there, and I was nearly paralyzed with panic by my inability to breathe properly. Honestly, who thought up spells like that? I concluded that this bastard was one evil son of a bitch, and he really had to die.

  Finally, my lungs started working again. I took a huge breath, perhaps the sweetest I’d ever taken. I focused my gaze on the Fear Doirich again and felt the Eye’s magic gathering behind my eyes. The druid swayed back and forth, and it looked like he was barely holding it together. He held one hand extended in front of him, fingers weaving in complex patterns as he chanted. That hand was readying his ward for the coming attack. But his other hand was doing something behind his back.

  Was he casting two spells at once?

  A ragged oval sprang into existence behind him, the space beyond reminiscent of the nothingness where I’d met with Jesse moments before. The druid spared me one last look of hatred, then stepped through the portal. It winked out just as the Eye’s blast struck one final time.

  “Impossible,” I wheezed. I’d never seen a spellcaster weave two complex spells at once. No one was that good.

  The blast struck the wall of earth behind where the druid had stood, and the concussive force of the magic threw earth and stone everywhere. A deep rumbling soon followed, and dirt and debris began falling all around.

  The roof of the cavern fell in on me, and then everything went black.

  I came around just as the trolls and Hemi were dragging me out of my eart
hen grave. Apparently, they’d followed the druid at a distance, then had stuck around after he and I had entered the mausoleum. Hemi and Guts had tried to follow us in, but when the tunnel caved in they’d backed out and sent the trolls for more help.

  Once the mausoleum had collapsed, they figured I was done for. However, a brilliant red beam of energy came blasting through the wreckage, leaving a crater that revealed my bloody, dirt-covered face at the bottom. After that, it was just a matter of digging me out from under the remaining debris. The troll warriors cheered when they pulled me out. Unfortunately, only seven of them had made it.

  I hurt worse than a bare ass on a bed of nails, but at least I was alive. And whole again—whether due to my Hyde-side’s ability to heal or the Eye’s magic, I wasn’t certain. Despite my good fortune, I felt more than a twinge of regret that I couldn’t be with Jesse. And, I felt guilty that Bells hadn’t even crossed my mind, not after the prospect of being with Jesse presented itself.

  The deep rumble of Hemi’s voice brought me back to reality.

  “I thought you’d bought the farm for sure, bro.”

  “Isn’t that a purely American colloquialism?” I asked as I spat out dirt and blew mud from both nostrils.

  “Well, I have been working on my American—since you drongos can’t seem to understand plain old English.”

  “Do I even want to know what a drongo is?”

  “Eh. It’s a debatably useful term.”

  Guts pointed at one of his warriors. “Drongo.”

  The warrior turned and looked at us with a “Who, me?” expression. Hemi and I shared a laugh, then Gunnarson turned up with his goons to spoil the moment.

  “Commander, nice of you to show up, oh—two hours late.”

  He cleared his throat. “We ran into some undead activity on our way in. Had to clear it up before we could provide assistance. But you heroes seem to have handled things well enough.”

  “You seem a little disappointed, Gunnarson. Upset that I didn’t die on schedule?”

  He placed his hand on his hips and scowled. “Well, there’s always the next time. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get your ass in a sling before the month is out.”

  I accepted a hand from Hemi, and he hauled me to my feet. “Not this month. After this mess, I’m taking an extended vacation.”

  Gunnarson raised an eyebrow. “Out of my city, I hope?”

  I resisted the urge to slug him. “Maybe. Look, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a friend to visit at the hospital. Since we took care of the necromancer and the undead, I’m sure your boys can handle the cleanup.”

  I turned my back on him without waiting for a response. “C’mon, Hemi. Let’s go help Guts and his crew gather up their dead.”

  Hemi had a full cooler of Lone Star in his car, so we all drank one to honor the trolls who had fallen, then watched as more trolls showed up to carry them away to their camp. They’d proven to be a much more complex and honorable people than their reputation gave them credit for, and I for one was glad to have seen another side of them. I promised Guts I’d be there for the burial ceremony.

  “They died well, Guts.”

  “Ditto at that, mate.” Hemi raised his can in reverence, then downed it all at once.

  Guts nodded in agreement, but looked sad. “Much crying back at camp tonight, and much to do before daylight.”

  “I understand, Guts. I’ll see you in two days.” He’d explained that troll custom required two days for mourning and one for burial. Apparently, trolls died so rarely that every funeral was a major event. This one would be unprecedented in troll history. I just hoped they didn’t start associating me with all the recent deaths in their tribe. Truth was, I liked having Guts around.

  Hemi held out his hand. “I’ll leave you to it, mate. Get a bath so you can go see that girl of yours.”

  We shook hands and bro-hugged, then agreed to meet the next day for a game of pool and some brews. I watched him leave before I hopped on the Vespa to head to the junkyard. On the way I thought about Jesse, and how quickly I’d forgotten about Bells when she’d shown up.

  Sure, this thing with Bells and me was new. But was that how it was going to be? I’d get involved with someone, only to have Jesse’s ghost show up and throw a wrench in the gears?

  I loved Jesse, and I always would. But if I was going to fulfill this great mission I supposedly had ahead of me, I needed to be able to move on. I was sure she understood that, just like I was sure she’d be waiting for me on the other side.

  But what would that mean? If I fell in love with someone, got married, had kids, and grew old with them—would that mean I’d forget about Jesse? Would I be a polygamist in the next life? Could I even fall in love with someone else?

  And was it even fair to do so, when I was a danger to everyone around me?

  It was all too much to think about. The truth was, I needed some alone time to work out everything that had happened. The Eye, my curse, the Fear Doirich, finding out how my Dad had died—everything.

  But now I knew there was a way to control my alter-ego. Knowing that possibility existed provided me with a small glimmer of hope. At least now I felt that I might have a shot at a normal life, sometime in the future.

  But what was it, really, that the Eye wanted? It had said it desired revenge on the Tuatha Dé Danann, but I got the feeling there was a whole lot more to it than that. And besides, if all I needed was the power of its magic to allow me to control my Hyde-side, didn’t that mean I could do it on my own if I gained more power?

  Finn could help me make sense of all this. I goosed the throttle on my Vespa, eager to get back to the junkyard where I could get some answers.

  When I got back to the junkyard, there was a set of car keys on my bed, and a note:

  Sorry, kid. I know you have questions, but I need to get some answers of my own before it’s too late. I hate being cryptic, but for right now it’s best you don’t know what’s going on.

  I know, I know—I kept you in the dark about the Fear Doirich, and now I’m withholding more information. I’ll reveal all in good time, but recent events require me to seek answers to questions that you don’t even realize exist.

  Yet, I know you do have questions. Talk to the Alpha, and the Queen. You can trust the Alpha, and Maeve knows much more than either of us combined. But don’t trust her, no matter what she tells you.

  It’s small recompense, but I’ve left you the keys to the Gremlin. I was going to give it to you anyway on your next birthday, but since I might be gone for a while I figured I’d better let you have it now. No sense in letting it sit.

  Watch yourself, and listen to the Alpha. He’ll steer you true.

  -Finnegas

  I grabbed the note and nearly crumpled it, then thought better of it and set it on the shelf. I picked up the keys, twirling them around my finger. Then I left them on the bed and grabbed some towels, heading out to shower.

  Once dressed, I walked around the yard to the place where I’d found Finn working on the Gremlin several days past. There it sat, but in much better condition than it had been the last time I’d seen it. The body work had been completed on it, the windows had been tinted, and he’d hired someone to paint it flat black. It sat on original rims, there was plenty of good rubber on the tires, and it had an aggressive stance that spoke of suspension work and upgraded shocks.

  I opened the door, and found the interior had been replaced. There was new carpet, a fresh reproduction dash and gauges, and recently reupholstered seats. I shook my head and slid into the driver’s seat behind the wheel, running my hand across the steering wheel and dash.

  I popped the key in the ignition and cranked the engine over. It fired up immediately, greeting me with the throaty rumble of a five-liter V8, naturally aspirated and blowing smoke through a set of high-performance exhaust headers and glass packs on the back.

  He’d even replaced the stereo with an updated model.

  “Finn, you sneaky son of
a bitch,” I whispered. “You knew you were leaving all along.”

  I shut the door, put the car in gear, and pulled out the back gate. After I’d locked the place back up again I hopped in the Gremlin, dropped the hammer, and roared off into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I arrived at the hospital in time to catch the tail end of a heated conversation between Bells and a tall, well-dressed woman with long dark hair and striking gray eyes. They spoke in what I thought was a dialect of Spanish or Portuguese, but it was hard to tell. I didn’t have a talent for foreign languages, and with the exception of learning some Gaelic for spell work, I’d never had the time or inclination to pick up another.

  I had the good sense and decency to wait outside the room, and within a few minutes their conversation ended and the woman stormed out. She stopped in front of me as she passed, regarding me with those haunting grey eyes. That’s when I realized I was standing in front of Belladonna’s mother. Despite the difference in height, there was no mistaking they were closely related. This woman was strikingly beautiful.

  Needless to say, I was taken by surprise when she grabbed me by the lapels of my coat and slammed me against the wall.

  “Don’t get my daughter killed. If you do, you won’t live long enough to regret it,” she threatened, in English that only carried the slightest of accents. She released me and walked off before I could gather my wits to reply.

  Well, I see which side of the family Bells takes after, I reflected. I blinked once or twice, took a deep breath, and entered the room.

  I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb as I entered. “Was that—?”

  Bells looked furious, but her face brightened immediately when she saw me. Which, of course, made my stomach twist up in knots. Hopefully I didn’t look as guilty as I felt.

  “My mother. She flew in from Spain to see me, just to say I told you so. Probably flying right back out again tonight.”