Honestly, with my history, there’s no telling.
Chapter Four
By the time I get home, change, and head down to the kitchen, I’m pretty sure I’ve put us squarely in the crosshairs of at least two or three more magical sects. Hobgoblins hate us. Barghest hates us. I have no idea who the raspy-voiced heckler was down the table. The drippy-faced lady didn’t seem keen on me either, and they were only the ones I spoke to.
“Hey, chicky-poo.” Calum comes down the stairs dressed for his shift. “How’d your first meeting with the Justice League go? Did you charm the pants off them?”
“That would be a no. Although I did get an offer of carnal pleasure from an immortal god and I made friends with a cool lady elf named Suede.”
Calum chuckles and grabs his lunch off the counter. “Suede is a cool name for a cool lady. You’ll have to tell me about the indecent proposal in the morning. I’m out. Laters.”
“Laters. Safe home.”
I finish peeling the carrots and potatoes and toss them in olive oil and Gran’s special blend of herbs. After I dump them around the chicken, I cover the whole thing in foil and pop it in the oven.
I’m setting my timer when my cell rings in my hands. I smile at the name that pops up. “Myra, how’s things? Do you need me to come in tonight?”
“No, sweetie. Tomorrow’s soon enough. I’ve got some new occult texts coming in first thing, and the book I ordered for your man’s father should arrive with that too. Any idea when he’ll be back in town?”
I think about Sloan and sigh. “No plans to see him until the next crisis hits, but the way things go around here, you never know.”
There’s a long pause at the other end of the line, and I wonder if a customer is beckoning my boss.
“Do you need to go?”
“Uh… No, I was wondering how it went this afternoon. You know, with the guild?”
“I met your brother. He seems awesome.”
“Zxata, yes, he is awesome. If you ever need someone at your back at one of those meetings, you go straight to him. He’ll protect you with his life.”
“Hopefully, I won’t have to have anyone laying their lives on the line for me. Garnet was all alpha protector for me today. It was rather over the top but well-meaning and sweet.”
“Sounds like Garnet.”
I hear the subtext pulsing through the line loud and clear. It’s not the first time she’s reacted to the name. “So, you and Garnet were a thing, eh? When was that? What happened? And why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Garnet and I are ancient history. I don’t need to go into all that. I simply wanted to ask you about the meeting.”
I laugh. “Sure you did. Well, the meeting went about as well as things around me go these days, but Garnet was great. He was attentive and protective and a true gentleman escort. He impressed me.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear there are still moments when he can get out of his way and be the man I…uh, knew.”
“Knew? Are you sure that’s what you were going to say? It sounds like you might say something more.”
“No. That’s what I meant to say. Okay, then, Fi. I’ll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams.”
“You too.” I hang up and stare out the kitchen window at my beautiful grove. “Myra and Garnet. Huh.” Somehow, the idea that the two of them have a history gives me the warm and fuzzies. I can see how they’d be good for one another.
I’m still staring out at the magical forest in my back yard when the buck and doe from my grove step out of the trees and trot over to look at the fish in the koi pond.
After the chaos and emotion of my afternoon, the pull of wanting to spend time out there is undeniable. I grab Beauty off the table, gather my chunky sweater off the hook by the back door, and cross what’s left of my back lawn toward my sacred grove.
Sacred is a funny word when you think about it.
Before being a druid, it brought to mind images of the Sistine Chapel, the rites and rituals of the Native Canadians, and the few things of our mother’s we keep on the top shelf of the glass curio in the family room by her blue chair.
I never really considered anything that I owned could qualify. I was wrong. Our sacred grove is truly cherished as hallowed ground by me and mine.
As I step under the shade-bearing canopy of the leaves above, it’s like falling under a spell of calm. A family grove is a place of power for a druid. It’s also a place of quiet contemplation, reverence, and gratitude.
I’m thankful for every leaf at the end of every twig, every blade of grass beneath my feet, and every creature—fae or otherwise—living within.
Over the past week, I’ve worked on getting to know each tree, every plant pushing up through the rich soil, and every creature and colony making this their home.
When I reach my woven basket swing, I set Beauty down, pull on my sweater, and move the thick wool blanket on the cushion to take my seat. The moment I’m settled, Flopsy, one of the Ostara rabbits, flies over and I make a little nest in the blankets beside me.
“Hello, pretty girl. How was your day?”
The magical bunny looks up at me, her nose and whiskers twitching with what I’m sure is a fascinating tale. Sadly, I don’t speak woodland like Emmet.
Pip and Nilm climb down from one of the larger trees and into the woven swing opposite mine. It’s the same as the one I’m sitting in, and I love it as much as mine. Every time I see it, I chuckle to myself.
Sloan bought it because he knew I’d never share mine.
Smart man. He gets me better than most.
Pip grips her elbows and shivers, her antennae bouncing over her round, cherubic face.
“Are you cold, sweetie?” I guess they would be. Canadian summers are hot but short. September and October bring cooler temperatures as the trees start to go into hibernation and by November and December, it’ll be colder still. January through March is stupid-freakin’-freezing, and anyone who can do it avoids going out as much as possible.
Minus forty is redonkulous.
“Okay, cold. Good point. You’re not used to weather like this. I’ll find a way to fix that for you.” I lean forward and touch their little arms. “Internal Warmth.”
The rush of heat builds in my chest and extends down my arms and into my touch. When Pip and Nilm sink into the hold and sigh, I know it’s taken hold in them as well. “There, that’s better for now. I promise I’ll think of something more permanent.”
With images of Ostara rabbits wearing ear warmers in my mind, I wonder about expanding the Internal Warmth spell I’ve already mastered. I finger through the pages of my druid spellbook, Beauty, and am grateful to have her.
I’ve loved her from the first moment I saw her at Myra’s bookstore, and she loved Sloan’s worn, brown leather spellbook from the moment she encountered him and got it on in the cabinet drawer.
It was crazy to me, at first, to think of books as having conscious will and instincts. I like to think my outlook on life has broadened considerably over the past few months.
I look at the cursive flourishes in the penmanship of my book and smile. Sloan Mackenzie is a modern thinker with an arcane soul. I pull out my cell and call up his contact.
Sitting in my swing, flipping through Beauty, and thankful for you.
Are ye drunk?
No. Do you know how to take a compliment?
From most people, I do. Sorry. How’d today go?
I stare at the screen. I didn’t tell Sloan about the parley with the Lakeshore Guild. I thought he’d think it was too dangerous to go on my own and would start an argument.
How does he know? Who ratted me out?
The phone rings in my hand, and I jump. Big surprise. It’s Sloan. I roll my eyes and accept the call. “Hello.”
“Stop tryin’ to figure out who told me about the luncheon, and tell me about it.”
I chuckle and lean deeper into my swing. “You sound very sure that’s what I was doing.”<
br />
“Because that’s what yer doin’. Now, how’d it go?”
“Mostly fine. I may have put my foot in it and rubbed a few people the wrong way.”
“So, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Har-har. It was fine.”
“Buuut?”
“I don’t know… I guess I’m having an off day. I miss the sun of summer. My fae are cold, and I realized the hobgoblins aren’t going to let things go, and Dillan’s sad because he and Kady called it quits.”
“I’m sorry to hear about Dillan and Kady, but there’s not much ye can do about that. I’ll send ye a few ideas about how to enchant yer grove’s thermostat. As fer the hobgoblins—be incredibly careful. They’re not known for their sunny dispositions, and I worry.”
“I know you do. I will.”
There’s a long stretch of quiet, then he sighs. “Da is callin’ me, so I’ll have to run. Listen, have Emmet pick up some of those mint brownies you like from O’Landry’s bakeshop. He’s on afternoons and should be heading home soon. That will brighten yer outlook.”
Honestly, if I ate another brownie I’d barf. “Yeah, thanks. Maybe I will.”
“Are ye sure that’s all it is, Fi? Anything I can help with personally? Just say the word.”
I know what he’s getting at, and I can’t.
Before he left earlier in the week, he made it clear that he intends for us to get together, and he’s willing to wait until I sort out all my druid stuff. When I’m ready to give in to what he thinks is the inevitability of us being a druid super-couple, all I have to do is “say the word.” But before I can be half of a druid super-couple, I have to learn to be a super druid.
“It’s only a case of the blues. Go. You gotta run, and my timer’s going to go off in the house any minute. Nobody likes burnt chicken.”
“’Kay. Be safe.”
“You too.”
I set my cell in my lap, close the spellbook, and give myself a shake. “I’m not sure what’s bringing me down in the dumps, but I’m over it. I’m Fi-freaking-Cumhaill, and I don’t do mopey.”
“Good to know.”
I jump and squawk. Flopsy flies off, her butt raining rabbit droppings down as she goes.
Nikon’s eyes pop wide. “I’ve never had that effect on a female before. I’m not sure how to take it.”
I pat my chest to get my heart pumping again and extricate myself from under my mound of blankie. “Maybe it’s showing up where you weren’t invited. You literally scared the crap out of her.”
“Hey, there was no way to predict that would happen.”
I stand, fluff out the blanket, and tuck it around Pip and Nilm in the opposite swing. I don’t know if Nikon can see them or not, but it doesn’t matter. My fae are cold, and I’m finished with it for now. “Did you come over solely to scare my woodland friends, or was there some other reason for you being here?”
“I wanted to say I enjoyed meeting you today. You were the highlight of an otherwise boring and predictable gathering of mediocrity.”
“Ha! If I was the highlight, your bar is incredibly low. I wasn’t even memorable today. I was on my best behavior.”
He chuckles. “Then I look forward to being around in the moments when you’re not behaving.”
I wave that away. “What’s this about? I’ve got dinner in the oven and things to pretend to do. If you’re still angling for me to go to bed with you, the answer remains no.”
“Your loss, but not why I’m here. Something you said stuck with me and I thought we could have a bit of fun.” He holds out his hand and waggles his brow. “Would you care to join me for a little mischief and mayhem?”
I laugh. “You do realize that I live with five cops, right? Mischief and mayhem aren’t things I strive for.”
“I promise you’ll enjoy this.”
Studying his gaze, I reach out with my senses and get nothing back but a guy seeking companionship in an otherwise tedious existence.
“I won’t be arrested or embarrass my family?”
“You won’t be arrested. I can’t say what embarrasses your family. With you, I’d guess that bar is quite high.”
I laugh again. “All right, I’ll give you that. But I do have dinner in the oven. I can’t be long.”
“Fifteen minutes, and you’ll be in your kitchen with a smile on your face and a little mischief managed.”
I slap my hand in his knowing I might well regret this later. “Sure, why not? I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
* * *
Nikon flashes us from the grove in my back yard to the ring of druid stones where the Black Dog thugs took me to sacrifice me on the altar. Set in a flat clearing warded to prevent human discovery, seventeen rugged stones, each reaching about eight feet from the ground, encircle a stone slab with a hole in the center. Beneath the opening sits a wide-rimmed earthenware urn buried in the earth below.
“Is that the blood bucket?”
I nod. “Charming isn’t it? It’s supposed to be an authentic replica of Drombeg Circle in West Cork, except the original altar didn’t have a blood-letting component.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I am. When Fionn mac Cumhaill named me his successor, he took me back in time to have an airneal. We sat in the original stones and shared a meal while he told me fireside stories about my ancestry and his hopes for me.”
Nikon suddenly looks much older than his twenty-something visage. “It’s cool that you got a look at the past without having to live all the years in between.”
As quickly as the clouds set in behind his eyes, he pushes them away. “So, lady’s choice. Shall we destroy it, hex it, or have you got a better idea for it?”
I blink as my hamster trips in my mental wheel. “I’m sorry, what? What are we talking about?”
“The altar stone. You said it offends your druid sensibilities to have it here and know it exists in your city.”
“True story.”
“All right then, what are we going to do about it?”
I raise a brow and chuckle. “Are you inviting me to be a vigilante vandal?”
“Are you saying you don’t want to?”
“Are you trying to enlarge the enormous bullseye already on my back?”
“Do you expect me to believe you’re conflicted? Because I don’t.”
I chuckle again. “Okay, I’m not, but my father taught me to at least consider the consequences of my actions.”
“Then ignore them?”
“That’s usually my go-to, yeah.”
His mischievous smile makes him look even younger. Man, it must suck to go through life looking like you’re eighteen. I still haven’t wrapped my head around him being over two millennia old.
Annnd he’s waiting. “Okay, pros and cons. Destroying it gets rid of it, but they can come along and replace it with another easily enough. How could we hex it?”
Nikon shrugs. “What would set your scales of justice back to balanced?”
I think about that and smile. “Whatever ill intent is done on an innocent is transferred to the one inflicting it instead.”
“The old Leviticus theory. ‘Fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth; anyone who maims another shall suffer the same injury in return.’ Is that it?”
“Almost, but not in return—instead. I want the innocent to remain unscathed, and the injury to transfer completely to the one wielding the ill intent.”
“A fine point of distinction, but the devil is in the details.” He places his hand on the smooth stone of the sacrificial altar and closes his eyes. A moment later, he smiles and blinks us home. “All done and back before dinner as promised.”
I chuckle. “Seriously? Just like that?”
He nods, his blond hair blowing in the autumn breeze.
“Well, thanks. I’ll sleep better knowing those Barghest dickwads won’t be able to hurt people there anymore. The stones are quite comforting to me, but not the way they’re using the
m.”
Nikon bows and his words hang on the night air as he disappears. “Mischief managed.”
Chapter Five
The brass bell over the door chimes as I enter Myra’s Mystical Emporium. I’ve been working here part-time for a couple of months and I lurrrrve it. The otherworld bookshop has become one of my happy places. “Myra, who’s your favorite protégé? Yeah, that’s right. I come bearing gifts of java and sugary succulence—”
My footing falters as my shield burns hot on my back.
Hubba-wha? I freeze inside the doorway and listen. There’s a muffled sound in the back, but it’s quiet and could be anything.
“Myra? You okay?” The hair on my arms stands on end, and there’s no response. “Myra? I need you to answer me.”
When nothing comes back at me but a whiff of rotten stink and negatively charged air, I err on the side of caution. I’ve been down this road before in the store, and it ended with me getting kidnapped and Sloan getting poisoned by vampire venom.
Bruin, I need you. Something’s got my shield in a tizzy and my gut tells me all is not well.
On it. There’s a flutter in my chest, then a building pressure in my lungs until the pop of him breaking free of my body in his spirit form.
While he’s on recon, I stash my Tim Horton’s booty, flex my hand, and call Birga to action. With my intention clear, the ancient spear belonging to my many-times-great-grandfather materializes in my grip.
She senses my anxiety, and I feel her hopeful anticipation for bloodshed. “Olly olly oxen free.”
Moving deeper into the bookstore in measured steps, I avoid the main corridor and take a meandering path through side aisles and around the displays.
As quickly as I can while still being careful, I make my way to the customer counter at the back of the storefront. The front section of the emporium is a standard bookstore displaying the mainstream tomes and texts.
Then, there’s an offshoot section at the back that’s three stories high with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, iron ladders that hang on rails, and galleries to walk around.
A Family Oath Page 4
