Even if it is a very nice ensuite.
“Let me know when it’s safe to come in and tend to yer leg,” Sloan says outside the door. “I need to wrap it before ye slide yer pants on.”
I exchange the towel for my underwear and pull his jersey on over my head. It’s long and too big, and it makes me feel like I can hide a little more than my fitted clothes. Padding over to the door, I open things up and usher him inside.
He takes one look at me and pulls me against his chest. ”Och, Fi. I wish I could take the hits fer ye once in a while. It’s too much, what this life puts ye through.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“Yer not. Yer da and yer brothers think the same. Now, come. Let’s treat ye to a little TLC.” He taps his hand on the granite countertop.
When I step over to him, he grips my hips and lifts me to sit on the bathroom counter. The granite is cold on the backs of my legs, and I hiss. “Here’s a hint for you, Mackenzie. With me, TLC is warm…always warm.”
“I’ll make a note of it. Now, let me see if I can help with yer eyes. It’ll not change them, but perhaps having things seem normal will help for a little.” He places his palm over my eyes, and I feel the warmth of his magic tingling on my skin.
Irish eyes of brilliant blue,
Return to yer natural hue.
My glamor changes what is seen,
Fiona’s eyes are what they’ve been.
When he’s finished, he removes his hand and smiles. “There now. That’ll do. We’ll figure out the rest in time. We always do.”
I twist on the counter and touch my image in the mirror. “There I am.”
“Yer always there, Cumhaill. Whether it’s yer skin tattooed and hard as bark, or a possessed dark book on yer leg, or yer eyes changing color and glowin’ like the moon in the night sky, yer always there.”
“Thanks for saying so. I’m still glad I look like me.”
He tugs his medical kit across the polished surface and unzips the bag. After taking out a couple of bottles of salve and some fresh gauze, he sets things out on the counter. ”Let’s get yer leg sorted and get out there. Yer da and yer brothers need to get back to Toronto to work.”
“You’re leaving me? Have we been here for three days? Can you even portal back yet?”
“No on all three counts.” He coats my thigh with his father’s medicinal goop. “Yer under my da’s care, and I’ll not leave yer side for a moment. Nikon’s here. He and Suede came to check on ye once they finished with the vampires. When they heard what happened, he brought Dillan, Aiden, Kevin, and Suede to be with the family. I couldn’t portal everyone who wished to come.”
I lean back and lift my leg so he can re-wrap the poisoned skin. It’s still gray and disgusting, but sadly, I’m getting used to it. “Do you think this will heal?”
“I do. Once the tissue regenerates beneath, I’ll work on getting it to look healthier. For now, I want all the cells to focus on healing.”
That makes sense. “Your dad thinks I’m better?”
He tilts his head from side to side. “Optimistically hopeful that yer bond to the grimoire is severed.”
“But there could be more. It might not be only the eyes, right? They’re wondering if there’s more.”
“Wondering, yes. That doesn’t mean there will be or that the eyes have a direct correlation to the grimoire. It could still be a fae trait evolving. Only time will tell. But if anything strange happens or if ye feel something comin’ over yerself, ye must let me know.”
“Okay.”
He tucks his supplies back into his black kit and helps me off the counter and onto my feet. “All finished. Yer safe to get dressed.”
He moves to step away, and I pull him back. Rising onto my toes, I hug him and breathe him in. Sloan always smells good. His scent is a mixture of the Irish countryside and a very expensive aftershave. It’s quickly becoming a balm to the panic of my life. “Thanks, Mackenzie.”
He presses his cheek to the side of my head and sighs heavily. “I’d say it’s my pleasure, but it’s not. I’d rather ye stop havin’ these kinds of setbacks altogether.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
Chapter Five
Sloan leaves me to finish getting dressed, and when I exit the ensuite, I’m surprised to find the room empty, other than Bruin and Manx awaiting my grand exit. My bear rears up onto his back legs, and I step into his embrace. His massive paws drape over my shoulders, and the warmth of his fur envelopes me. After a long bear hug, I ease back. “Any chance you’d like to merge? I’m shaky and could use your strength.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
My grizzly dematerializes, and in a gust of wind, he enters my chest and settles inside me. I press a flat palm against my sternum and draw a deep breath. Much better.
“So, Manxy boy, where did everyone go?”
“There was talk of yer grandparents bringing honey cakes for tea. I think Sloan went and fetched them to have a wee visit before yer brothers pop off home.”
Right. Home. Because my brothers have jobs that demand their time and attention.
Sometimes I envy them the sense of purpose. To know what your calling is and get paid for it must be nice. I honestly believe my calling is to be a druid. I’ve yet to figure out who wants to pay me to do it.
“Lead the way, furry fellow. Let’s get there before all the treats are gone.”
Manx takes the lead, and I follow him through the maze of stone passageways that make up Sloan’s childhood home. I have to admit; it would’ve been cool to grow up here with my brothers. The challenges of hide-and-seek would’ve been raised to new heights. Endless rooms. No squeaking floors to give you away. And space to run and pass in the halls.
Century-old Victorians aren’t ideally suited for six rambunctious kids.
Sadly, Sloan grew up here alone. It seems a wasted opportunity not to fill up these rooms and these halls with kids.
“Do ye want a brood of kids then?” Manx asks.
I blink. “Sorry?”
“Ye said it’s a waste the castle wasn’t filled with kids. Do ye want a large family yerself?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been speaking aloud. Did I? Could he hear me on an animal frequency? Is this part of the effects of the dark book? Am I paranoid? I feel paranoid.
“Is it a secret then?”
I blink again. “No. Sorry. Um…yeah, I’d like a bunch of kids. Four. Five. Six. The best part of having a big family is growing up and always having someone to play with or to complain to or to back you up when someone comes at you. It makes me sad that Sloan never had that.”
“He has it now. He enjoys spendin’ time with yer brothers almost as much as spendin’ time with a certain redhead lass that has him turned around.”
“You’re a sweetheart. I’m sorry he’s spent so much time away from you. He mentioned bringing you to the city next time. I think it’s a great idea. There are a few concerns, but I think we can make it work.”
“I’d like that. He might be dry and a little repressed, but he’s my human, and I do miss him when he’s gone.”
“Of course you do. We’ll do better at not separating the two of you. I’ll do better. I promise.”
“Thank you, Fiona. I appreciate that.”
Manx leads me into a dining room I haven’t been in yet. When I was here when Granda was dying, Sloan and I ate sandwiches in the guest room they gave me. When I was here when Liam was shot, we ate in a smaller, less formal eating space. This dining room is quite grand.
“Fi!” Dillan breaks away from the chatter around the table.
I raise my hand to signal them not to all get up, but it’s too late, and they swarm me. Not that I’m complaining. My brothers give the best hugs evah.
“How’s things, baby girl?” Calum asks.
“You got the eye thing taken care of.” Emmet points. “That’s good.”
Dillan whacks him, and Emmet sti
ffens. “Hey, what the hell?”
“The first thing you mention is the eye thing? Use your head, eejit.”
Emmet frowns. “Sorry. I thought that was a compliment. I wanted her to feel better about things.”
“It was, and I do.” I go back for another hug from Em. “At least that’s the way I took it. S’all good. Yes, the eye thing is the stuff of nightmares, but hey, Morgana’s grimoire was the stuff of nightmares too. It stands to reason I couldn’t get off unscathed. I’m sure Wallace will figure it out. In the meantime, Sloan taught me a glamor spell to conceal it.”
Granda pats Sloan on the shoulder, a definite look of pride lighting up his face. “Good lad. Thank ye, son.”
“My pleasure.”
“So, are we hitting the ether then?” Nikon asks. “Niall starts work in an hour.”
“Oh, Da. Did you get any sleep?”
Da purses his lips and grunts. “Don’t ye worry about yer oul man. When you kids were teethin’ and takin’ bottles through the night, there were many a shift I worked without a wink of sleep. It won’t kill me. That yer well and on the mend is all that matters.”
I hug him tight and kiss his cheek as I ease back. “Love you huge.”
“How could ye not?” He winks. “I’m pretty feckin’ spectacular.”
I’m still smiling when he steps back and taps my heart. “Take good care of my baby girl, Bear.”
Rest assured, Da. I do so swear.
I smile. “He swears he will.”
Before they leave, I hug Nikon and thank him.
“Fi, don’t give it another thought. Honestly. If I had it in my power, I’d do more than taxi a few loved ones to help you. I wish I could fix this. It’s just not in my wheelhouse.”
“Thank you. And don’t downplay the value of taxiing loved ones. For me, that’s huge.”
He dips his chin. “When you get back we’ll do another big dinner. This time, maybe you won’t fertilize the daisies with it.”
“One could hope.”
After one last round of hugs, my fam jam flashes out with a snap in the air, and it’s me, Sloan and Manx, my grandparents, and… “Suede. Did you get left behind?”
“No. I mentioned to Sloan that it’s been years since I was back on ancient fae soil. I thought I might stay a little longer and get back to nature for a few days.”
“Awesome. I thought for a sec you stayed to babysit me.”
She laughs. “Hardly. Most people think they need to babysit me. Although, I’d love to meet the elf that laid that kiss on you. A woodland elf who could favor others with the gift of fae sight is extremely rare. I’m very curious who he is and why he’s hiding out in a druid grove.”
“Tomorrow, maybe. Right now, if nobody minds, I think I’d like to go back and lay down. I’m a little drained, and it’s a mile and a half back to King Henry. Sorry.”
“Och, don’t apologize, luv.” Gran picks up the plate of honey cakes and hands them to me. “Forget about walkin’ back. If yer tuckered out, Sloan here will take ye straight away, won’t ye, my boyo?”
“Of course. I’ll get Fi settled and be right back to take the two of you home.”
A blink later, we’re in Sloan’s suite. He sets the baked goods on his table and escorts me back to bed. “I won’t be long. Do ye need anythin’ while I’m out?”
“Do you have ginger ale here? Some kind of bubbly soda to settle my tummy?”
“Are ye still nauseous?”
“Not much. It’s probably more anxiety than upset.”
He helps me into bed, covers me with the flannel sheets and coverlet, then presses his lips to my forehead as if he’s assessing my temperature. “Close yer eyes, Cumhaill. And try not to cause any trouble while I’m gone.”
I adjust my hair on the pillow and yawn. “Trust me. I’m not going anywhere. If trouble rears its head, it won’t be my doing.”
“It rarely is.”
Lightning cracks and thunder rolls, jarring me from a deep sleep. I don’t know if I cried out or the clap scared him awake too, but Sloan pulls me against his side and fixes the covers over us. My heart races and I’m glad not to be alone in a strange bed when I don’t feel at all myself.
I realize I’m clinging to him like a scared koala and force myself to ease back. “I’m not complaining, but I thought you said you prefer to sleep on your own to avoid temptations.”
He shifts my hair back and settles it over my shoulder. “I figured since yer half-dead, I’m safe to watch over ye without fear of ye tryin’ to seduce me.”
“I think your virtue is safe.”
Another thundering crack rents the air and I jump out of my skin. “It’s all right, a ghra. A storm is brewing, but we’re safe from its ire here, together.”
I’m acting stupid. Why am I so jumpy?
It’s a freaking storm, and I’m shaking like a leaf. I snuggle closer and lay across his chest. “It offends my inner warrior to admit I’m scared by thunder but do you mind if I cling to you like scaredy-koala until I get back to sleep?”
His amusement raises my cheek in a gentle bounce. “I don’t mind. Cling away. Ye’ve been through a lot. It’s probably a delayed reaction to any of the traumatic events ye’ve survived lately. I won’t tell if ye don’t.”
I blink against the pitch of night, and eventually, listening to the steady lub-dub of his heart beating beneath my ear lulls me to calm.
“This is nice,” I say, as much to myself as to him. When he doesn’t respond, I figure he’s fallen back to sleep.
“Aye, it is.”
With my smile lost in the darkness, I try to breathe to the depths of stiff lungs. It’s only a storm. Everything is fine.
Maybe if I hold on tight, eventually I’ll believe it.
“Fiona? Where are ye, lass?”
I follow the call of Patty’s voice deeper into my subconscious mind. It’s not everyone who can say their leprechaun friend taught them how to access a spiritual plane within themselves. I’m one of the lucky few.
When I open my eyes, I’m sitting in my wicker swing surrounded by the magic and wonder of my sacred grove. Brendan is here. I’m the custodian of his heritage spark and will always have a part of him within me.
I wave to him, lying along one of the widest branches. He’s lounging beneath the speckled light of the canopy, his leg hanging toward the forest floor swinging lazily.
When he sees me waving, he winks and waves back. He’s happy where he is and that makes me happy too.
“Fiona. There ye are,” Patty says.
I turn to greet my diminutive friend and giggle at the flyaway frazzle of his puffy white hair. Jackson said he looks like a dandelion. I suppose, to a four-year-old, that’s exactly what he looks like.
But while the hair of my Man o’ Green might look like a dandelion gone to seed, Patty has warm eyes and a smile that twinkles with mischief. “Where have ye been, sham? I’ve been trying to contact ye.”
I step behind the Shenanigan’s bar that appeared in my imaginary happy place grove and pull him a draught. “Sorry. Long story short, I was poisoned by an evil grimoire and have been slightly possessed by Marilyn Manson. I’m on the mend now, but it kicked the snot outta me for a while.”
His bushy eyebrows wriggle like two albino caterpillars. “I’m sorry to hear it. Are ye up and about yet?”
“I think today, maybe. I’ve been sleeping a lot, but something’s still not quite right.”
“I’m sorry to hear it—truly I am—but if yer able, I need yer help. Something has happened. Something I can’t take care of alone. I need ye and bring yer Granda too. Hurry.”
I wake with a jolt and sit up in bed. I’m alone, and something about that feels odd. No Sloan. No Manx. Scootching to the side of the mattress, I pull back King Henry’s heavy drape and get a rush of cool air. Wow...privacy and thermal insulation.
The suite is empty, so I figure I’m on my own.
What’s wrong, Red?
“I’m not
sure. Patty needs us, and he seemed upset.”
I text Granda, then shuffle across the stone floor and head to the loo. After closing myself in, I take care of things and dig into my suitcase where it’s set on a spare counter by the Gothic arched window. I smile at the neat piles and grab a cotton stretch top, my beige cargo pants, and fresh socks and undies.
I wonder about unwrapping my leg and slathering on a fresh layer of Sloan’s salve but decide against it. It’ll take more time than I care to spend and he’ll likely want to take a look at the progress and tend to it himself.
In five minutes I’m dressed, brushed, primped, and wolfing down a honey cake. My phone bings and I check the incoming text. “Okay, Granda’s ready. I just need my ride.”
At the knock on the door, I lick my fingers and turn. “Come in.”
The door opens, and it’s Sloan’s mother followed by an extremely tidy blond man in livery carrying a tea tray.
She’s tall, insanely fit, and walks with the same rod-straight gait as her son. Where his skin is the shade of a warm, mocha brown, hers is quite a bit darker, chestnut almost. I haven’t spent much time with Janet Mackenzie, but from what Gran and Granda say, she’s a good person and an amazing martial arts fighter.
I think it’s awesome that there are no gender roles in the Order. Janet is the kickass warrior and Wallace is the caregiver. I like that.
“Fiona. Sloan asked me to check on ye and make sure ye eat more than a fistful of yer Gran’s pastries. Dalton prepared you a mushroom omelet with fruit. I’m told yer not fussy.”
“No. I’m not.” I smile at Dalton as he sets the tray down on the table. It has one of those metal meal covers over the plate like they use in fancy hotel room service. Welcome to the Mackenzie’s Stonecrest Castle. We hope you enjoy your stay. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”
Janet smiles—at least I think it’s supposed to be a smile. It’s more like her face is pinched, and she doesn’t like it. “It’s his job, dear. There’s no need to thank him.”
A Witch’s Revenge (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 4) Page 6
