A Witch’s Revenge (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 4)

by Auburn Tempest

Dillan squeezes my shoulder and winks. “We’ll get him back, baby girl. We might give Irish a hard time, but whether or not you two are canoodling yet, he’s good people, and he’s one of us.”

  Emmet hugs Granda and heads inside. “Besides, no one gets to torture him except us. Sorry, Granda, but if your glamoured witch-bitch ex Moira is taking a run at us and ours, she miscalculated. She’s going down.”

  “Hells yeah, she is.” I toe off my shoes inside the door.

  Granda places a finger over his lips, and we tiptoe past where Gran has fallen asleep on the couch waiting for word. Granda pulls a throw blanket off the couch's back, covers her, and points toward the office.

  Dillan flicks on the light and hands his bag to Emmet, who takes their stuff to the spare room.

  Granda rounds his desk and plunks down in his leather seat. “What a night.”

  “So, what do we know about what’s going on?”

  Dora starts us off. “Have any of you ever heard of Gobekli Tepe?”

  “Gesundheit,” Emmet says while joining us.

  Dora chuckles. “Gobekli Tepe. It’s an ancient ruin site discovered and being excavated in Turkey.”

  I check the expressions around the room. It’s a solid blank from Team Cumhaill, but Nikon seems to recognize the name. He also doesn’t seem pleased to be discussing it.

  The Greek frowns. “What about it?”

  Dora looks at Granda and me. “It’s where the Cistern of The Source is. It’s the ancient birthplace of fae prana.”

  For my brothers' benefit, I give them a quick recap of Dora’s lake of power analogy and how the fae ley lines we believed to be the source of all power are the runoff distributaries from the mothership of power.

  Dillan pulls the hood of his cloak up, and I’m glad to have him and his gift here to help me find Sloan. “The witches found the ocean of raw fae power that feeds the ley lines?”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “And the Narstina Cup?” Granda asks. “How is that a key for them to access it?”

  “The legend states that the reservoir of the ancients was located deep beneath an ancient city. Modern civilization recognizes the Greeks and the Romans for their innovations. The Ottomans, etc…but Gobekli Tepe existed thousands of years before any of that.”

  “How long before?” I ask.

  “From the carbon dating and what archeologists have found in the city digs, ten thousand BCE.”

  My mind spins out on that one. “Is that even possible?”

  Nikon nods. “Not only possible, but it’s factual. People of modern society make up myths and educated guesses to explain Atlantis, Easter Island, and many of the civilizations that came first. The truth is advanced civilizations existed long before the periods when modern society credits their arrival. Gobekli Tepe is one of them.”

  “You sound like you know a fair bit about this, Greek,” Dillan says.

  “I guess I do. My grandfather was a general in the Macedonian Wars and discovered the cistern while invading Melitene in the third century BCE. It’s because of the cistern’s raw prana that my family possesses such a focused level of power as well as immortality.”

  Hubba-wha? “Okay, that’s good to know. You never mentioned that before.”

  “My papu vowed never to divulge the source of our gifts or the location lest a horde of power-grubbing empowered folk gets the bright idea to try to gain from it.”

  “Imagine that,” Emmet says. “Evil is as evil does even thousands of years later.”

  Granda frowns. “Well, yer family secret is safe here, son. The Ancient Order of Druids is specifically tasked to protect nature and fae power. We have no intention of making it known where the mecca of magic is.”

  “Did this advanced culture know there was a giant cistern of fae power beneath their city?” Dillan asks.

  Dora shrugs. “On a whole, no, but some of the upper echelons of government and society knew and accessed it through a maze of underground passages that led deep into the earth’s crust.”

  “When you say accessed it, what do you mean? Skinny-dipping and lake-sipping?”

  “That would be a safe bet,” Dora says. “It’s said that some of the people with access began to show signs of change. Some altered physically, while others developed heightened mental strengths, and still others learned to access and utilize the energy in the water.”

  I frown. “And the birth of magic and fae creatures had begun.”

  Dora nods. “Exactly.”

  “You think the witches found this source of power and are siphoning it somehow?”

  “To affect the dragon, they must be draining one of the primary distributaries, but if the dragon queen’s been sleeping for a week—and given how time works in a lair, that’s a month—they don’t have access to the cistern itself.”

  “Because they don’t have the key,” I say.

  “Right. It’s said that once the first fae species developed, they realized not only the gifts the pool offered but also the danger of that level of power falling into the wrong hands.”

  “How do you close a lake?” Emmet asks.

  “They used their powers of stone manipulation to seal off the tunnels from the inside and left only one locked access point.”

  “The chalice is the key?” Granda asks.

  “Part of it.” Dora steps up to the desk. “Do you have a sheet of paper and a pencil?”

  Granda provides the requested materials and Dora bends over to draw. “The key was broken into three pieces: the base of a chalice is the disc plate, then a brooch with matching striations will fit into it, and a dragon-bone dagger pierces an opening in the other two pieces and links them all together to form the key.”

  Dora straightens, and we look at what she’s drawn.

  I look at the three components and my focus locks on Dora’s sketch of the dragon-bone dagger. “I’ve seen that dagger before. I know where the third piece of the key is—or, at least where it was.”

  It takes us a few tries to get to the lair of the dragon queen. My portal power is seriously on the fritz and Nikon wasn’t keen on guessing where the cavern lay beneath four hundred feet of rock. In the end, Dora gives me a power boost, and we hot-wire my transport method.

  “Remember, don’t touch Patty’s treasure.”

  Nikon snorts. “It’s cute you think you need to school the two of us on the dangers of pissing off a member of the Tuatha De. You’ve been at this what now, four months?”

  I shrug. “Fine. I’ll let you get chomped next time.”

  Nikon flashes me a crooked grin and grabs my arm as I breeze past him. “We’ll get him back. Lugh and your brothers are working on how. I’m sure they’ll have a course of action by the time we get back.”

  I sigh. “Sorry. Not your fault.”

  “No problem. I’ve got your back, Fi. Even snippy and looking like Marilyn Manson.”

  I try to laugh, but I don’t have it in me. If any emotion leaks out, it’s more likely going to be tears.

  He raises his hand and presses it over my eyes. In most instances, I feel the tingle of magic as people access their powers. Not so with Nikon.

  When he lowers his hand from my eyes, he looks at me and smiles. “That’s better. Now, let’s see a man about a knife and save Sloan. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you smile. Believe it or not, I’ve become rather addicted to your infectious humor.”

  I squeeze his hand and head into the main chamber. “Patty? Are you here? I brought reinforcements.”

  I take Dora straight to the queen to let her get started assessing her theory on whether or not she thinks it’s the witches siphoning The Source.

  “Wow.” Nikon’s eyes lock on the glistening scales of Her Reptileness. “See, it doesn’t matter how long you live. You can always learn or see something new.”

  “You’ve never seen a dragon, Greek?”

  He chuckles. “Almost no one alive has, Fi. Your normal isn’t normal even in empowered circles.”
/>
  Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “Okay, then you’re going to love this.” Pressing my finger and thumb together, I push them under my tongue and let out an ear-piercing whistle. “Come on, babies. Mother of Dragons is in the house.”

  Nikon’s eyes pop wide as the thundering footsteps and rustling of scales and tails builds in the distance and rush through the darkness of the corridor that leads to the nursery. “Shit, Fi. What did you do?”

  I giggle as my twenty-three children rush out to meet us. “Hi, guys.” I reach for as many as I can, scrubbing scales and massaging horns and wings. “Don’t look so scared, Nikon. It’s only been like twelve hours since we fed them close to bursting. They won’t eat you.”

  Nikon chuckles. “The fact that you have to qualify why they won’t eat me now but they might at another point in time isn’t comforting.”

  Patty follows in the wake of the brood, and I gasp. “Oh, Patty, you look so tired.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face and scowls. “Och, I’m at the end of my tether. Please tell me ye have good news.”

  I introduce Patty to Nikon and Dora and explain to him what we think is going on. “When Dora drew this, I recognized it. This is part of your treasure, isn’t it? Didn’t I use it to open the Amazon order when I was here?”

  Nikon’s mouth falls open. “You used an enchanted dagger made from the talon of the first dragon as a box cutter?”

  Patty shrugs. “The talon dagger is wicked sharp and indestructible…and Amazon box tape is savage strong.”

  “Do you still have it?” I ask. “Could the witches have gotten in here and taken it?”

  Patty closes his eyes and raises his hand. He can call his treasure like Thor calls Mjolnir. When the dagger fails to come, he frowns. “They must’ve come when I was distracted with tendin’ to the kids.”

  “Damn it. That puts them one step closer.”

  “The witches, then.” Patty’s sparkling blue gaze hardens with murderous intent. “It’s good to have an enemy in my sights. I’ll make them sorry as soon as we get things handled here. First, they attack Her Grace, then they invade our sanctum and steal from us. They will rue the day.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “What’s our next move?” Nikon asks.

  “Can you sense the dagger’s whereabouts?” Dora asks.

  “Within a certain radius but not from here, I’m afraid. I’d need to be above and have access to ambient magic.”

  “Then Nikon can snap us back to Granda’s, and we’ll get my brothers and go from there. There’s a good chance if the witches took the dagger to their headquarters of evil, Sloan might be there, or someone there might know where he is.”

  Nikon nods and holds out his hand. “It’s worth a try.”

  “I can’t leave.” Patty frowns at the chaotic tumbling and jostling of the baby dragons. “The kids can’t be left unattended. They’re a mischievous bunch, and they haven’t been taken topside for over a week.”

  “I’ll stay with the young,” Dora says. “It has been too many centuries since I’ve spent time caring for dragonborn. You go and do what you need to do, and I will tend to the queen and her young.”

  Patty looks hesitant, so I intercede. “It’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll vouch for Dora. This ain’t her first dragon rodeo.”

  Patty nods. “Very well. Give me one moment to grab my weapons holster and my hat.”

  When Nikon snaps Patty and me back to Granda’s, it’s midday, and the October light wraps me in a cold and dreary blanket. As much as I loved the warmth and greenery of Ireland in the summertime, it’s not nearly as warm and welcoming now.

  Or, maybe it’s my mood.

  I want Sloan home.

  “Tell me you figured out where to start looking for Sloan.” I stride into the house from the side door.

  Gran’s pouring coffee for my brothers and Granda as the three of them pore over materials on the kitchen table. “What have we got?”

  “Not enough, I’m afraid. There are six covens in Ireland and over forty registered between here and the area in Turkey where the Gobekli Tepe archaeological site is being excavated.”

  Gran makes a grumble grunt and slams the coffee pot back into place. “Och, well ye know feckin’ well where to start and if ye’ll not say it, I will. We need to track down that loose-moraled hussy and make it plain we want our boy back, or we’ll be takin’ it out on her wrinkled hide.”

  Granda frowns. “It’s not that simple, Lara. There are certain levels of diplomacy between the Order of Druids and the Guild of Covens—”

  “Fuck diplomacy,” Gran snaps.

  Lightning strikes close to the house, and we duck as the crack shakes the house. The lights flicker and flash as my heart races.

  The only person standing straight is my Gran. “Kids, it seems yer with me on this. I’m not a feckin’ Elder of the Order, and I’m not held to any kind of asinine protocols. We’re takin’ that bitch down. If she doesn’t have my Sloan, she knows who does.”

  “Go, Gran!” Emmet cheers. “We’re with you.”

  I nod at Nikon and hold my hand out. The boys pile their hands together like a sporting team getting ready for the big game. When Patty and Gran join in, we’re ready. “Take us to the Regent House in Dublin.”

  Chapter Nine

  Moira Morrigan lives a block away from Trinity College across from the Regent House in Dublin. When Sloan portaled us here, we materialized in the shadows of the back stoop to keep from being seen poofing in out of nothing. Nikon doesn’t do that. With him, we appear among the scattered students and locals beginning their day.

  “Dude.” Dillan looks at the oblivious people passing. “Do you have a cloaking component to your transport or a horseshoe up your ass?”

  Nikon chuckles. “I forget you guys are so new to this. We don’t need rectal horseshoes when we’re in the presence of a Man o’ Green.”

  Emmet frowns and looks at Patty. “That keeps us cloaked how?”

  Patty grins. “Luck-o-the-Irish, my boy. A stroke of serendipity when ye need it. Yer welcome.”

  I’m not a hundy percent sure what that entails, but if good fortune is with us, I won’t complain.

  “The cloaking luck is over,” Dillan says. “We’re gathering the attention of rubber-neckers now.”

  We’re quite an entourage storming up Grafton Street. As we cross at the lights and head toward the row house that belongs to Moira Morrigan, we draw more than a few curious glances.

  Gran is a stylish lady in a fifties circle dress, stockings, and a chenille wrap. The clack, clack, clack of her druid staff marks each angry step toward facing off against her nemesis.

  Patty has transformed from the jovial wee Man o’ Green of lore to a white-haired angry leprechaun. Granda warned me never to piss off a leprechaun, and I see why. This version of Patty is scary—and not only because he’s choking the neck of a hatchet and whistling an eerie tune.

  Yep, we’re a sight.

  A Greek immortal, a leprechaun, and four pissed-off druids closing the distance to get my boyfriend back from power-hungry witch bitches.

  “Let them stare,” Gran snaps. “Actually, they should follow us. The show is about to get better.”

  “Dayam, Gran.” Emmet grins from ear to ear. “You’re on fire tonight, warrior woman.”

  Nikon chuckles. “Your maiden name wouldn’t happen to be Croft, would it, Lara?”

  I get a kick out of that one. “Patty? Do you sense anything on your dagger tracking?”

  “No, but that’s fine. We’ll take them down one at a time if we have to. The result will be the same.”

  All righty then. It’s good to have goals.

  Moira lives in a historic brick building that runs the length of the block. It’s a three-story rowhouse with arched windows and neoclassical lines and architecture. If I didn’t know the woman who lives inside, I’d think it’s charming.

  “Can Bruin get in there to search for Sloan?” Dillan asks. />
  I shake my head. “Not until there’s an opening. Moira has extensive wards, and I don’t want him caught in one of her witch’s traps.”

  “I doubt she’ll just open the door for us,” Emmet says.

  “Agreed. When Sloan and I picked her up last month, she said she takes every precaution.”

  Patty snorts. “Every precaution she thought of. I’ve never met a practitioner yet who could anticipate the kinds of attacks I can come up with.”

  Emmet’s brows arch. “A fellow prankster. Nice. Do your worst, sir. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

  “Is it too obvious to suggest we knock first?” Dillan holds his hands up in surrender as Gran, Patty, and I weigh in on that. “Just fielding all the options. I love an offensive as much as the next guy.”

  I stop on the walkway that leads up to Moira’s unit and point. “This is it.”

  Dillan pulls up the hood of his cloak and nods. “So, who wants the first crack at getting us inside?”

  I turn to Gran. “Could you call another bolt of lightning to get us started?”

  “To burn her house to the ground, ye mean?”

  I blink. “No. I thought we’d start by hitting that power transformer there to give us the cover of darkness.”

  “All right, we’ll try your way first.” Gran turns her full attention to the power box, and another strike of lightning hits the ground. The block goes dark.

  I nod to Patty. “Do your worst, my friend. Bring her wards down.”

  “Wait here.” The five of us watch him climb the stairs leading up to the enclosed breezeway. He’s a wee man, so he uses the handrail to help pull himself up the six steps one by one. When he gets to the top, he raises his hands and presses them to the front door of the house.

  The crashing inside starts instantly.

  The screeching starts a moment after that.

  Patty holds his hands toward the house and swings his hands from left to right and back again. The crashing calamity continues inside, following Patty’s orchestrations.

  When he straightens, he throws both hands over his shoulders toward us, and I tense. The windows on all three floors blow out in a violent explosion of glass.