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

by Auburn Tempest

  Shattered window panes rain into the flowerbeds below.

  It seems everything in the house made from a precious metal has responded to Patty’s call. Silver candlesticks, a massive golden dragon figurine, a compass, several heavy door-knockers, a gem-hilted sword…

  “He’s a treasure whisperer,” Emmet says.

  I chuckle. “Moira didn’t ward against being attacked by her keepsakes? Seems short-sighted.”

  “Lazy, actually.”

  When the front door flings open, Moira storms onto her closed porch, sees us, and starts casting.

  I pat my sternum and release my bear. “Go find him, buddy.” There’s no swirling breeze of comfort this time. Bruin launches from me and is gone like a shot fired from a gun. “Please be in there.”

  Moira spots Patty on her porch and goes for him. Gran counters. “Gale Force Gust.” She swipes her hand through the air and Moira is thrown back inside.

  “Don’t let her close us out,” I shout.

  Nikon grabs my arm, and the boys join in for the ride inside. With a magical snap, the four of us find ourselves in Moira Morrigan’s posh living room. It’s lit by floating globes of magic burning in the corners along the roofline, and Patty’s treasure redecoration process leveled it.

  The moment we appear, we fall under attack.

  A bolt of magic catches me in the shoulder and knocks me twisting into a mahogany sideboard. The surge of magic tingles over my skin. Whatever oomph powers the spell triggers the grimoire’s residual darkness.

  I roll to my feet, my eyes burning with fury.

  Emmet has confiscated a wicker bowl filled with decorative marble balls, and he’s whipping them. He cracks one of the witches in the back of the head, and she faceplants onto the plush ivory area rug.

  He cackles with glee and grabs another.

  Dillan cuts the air with his daggers and deflects another barrage of magic bolts. He sends one into the wall, shatters a mirror, and dives behind an overstuffed sofa. He catches the cushion with his blade as he cartwheels over the backrest, and the thing splits wide, barfing stuffing from the cut.

  All we need to do is stall them long enough for Bruin to figure out if Sloan is in here somewhere. Three more witches fly into the room.

  “Incoming,” I shout while calling Birga to my palm. I catch one of the women rushing me in the thigh and swipe left. As she buckles to the floor, fountaining blood, I spin the enchanted spear and catch the next one with the staff.

  On one of my spins, I catch sight of Gran and Moira in a showdown and smile. Gran has stripped the witch’s glamor and is bitch-slapping her like you read about.

  A shamrock shuriken whistles past my head and I duck.

  The breathy cry behind me has me spinning to watch an Asian woman flip back, her feet flying into the air at the force of the hit. I turn back to catch Patty whipping more of his weapons from his shoulder holster: a pink heart, yellow moon, orange star, and more green clovers.

  I bark a laugh at Patty being a Lucky Charms warrior. Then the wind picks up around my face, and I feel Bruin’s presence.

  He’s in the northeast corner in a locked cell in the basement. One guard on the outside of the door.

  The moment Bruin speaks the words, I repeat them internally to Nikon. Get him. Help him, Bear.

  When Nikon flashes off, I get a boost of energy. Bruin and Nikon can take care of one guard and get Sloan home. All we have to do is distract them long enough to get it done.

  They’ll get him. I know they will.

  An orange star thwacks a brunette in the side of the head, and she goes down like a felled tree.

  When Bruin comes back, he materializes and roars a deafening roar. “Got him. The Greek is taking him to Lugh.”

  “Thank you, baby Yoda.” I face off with an ebony-haired woman when a crystal vase catches her square in the back. She goes down, and I smile at Emmet. “Thanks, bro.”

  “No problem. I like redecorating. Gran, wrap it up…”

  Gran plants her staff, launches her feet in a swinging kick, and catches Moira solidly in the crotch.

  “Yes, she did,” Emmet shouts. “A solid crotch shot.”

  Dillan snorts. “And that, my friends, is what we shall forever call an Irish boxty.”

  I snort and catch the surprise on Nikon’s face as he flashes in to join us. “Did your grandmother just give that witch a cooter-booter?”

  “Hells yes, she did.” Emmet beams. “A well-deserved one too. Good job, Gran.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, bring it in, people. I want to go home and see Sloan.”

  Patty agrees. “I don’t sense the knife, so it’s not here. I don’t think the brooch is either, so we might as well regroup.”

  Nikon flashes us into the living room of my grandparents’ home, and I rush around the trunk of the tree to find Sloan sitting on the couch with a rubber bin in his lap. I’ve almost closed the distance to pounce on him and give him a hug when he doubles over and hurls.

  “Snap.” Emmet laughs. “You almost wore that, Fi. Back away from the splash zone.”

  I sit on the edge of the couch beside him and lean in to get a better look at him. His usual warm, brown skin is pasty and dotted with perspiration. “What’s wrong? What did they do to you?”

  Gran takes his other side and presses her wrist against his forehead. “Och, my poor boy. What did that bitch do to ye?”

  “A spell…to keep me from portaling…so dizzy.”

  Gran looks up to me and frowns. “Bring me my basket of gemstones, luv. We have to re-establish his equilibrium. Once his world settles, maybe the nausea will too.”

  I hurry over to where Gran keeps her woven basket on the shelf by the television and take it back to the couch.

  By the time I’m boomeranging back, Patty’s there and scowling. “No offense meant, Missus, but I believe I can do more for the lad faster if ye don’t mind me interferin’.”

  Gran sits straighter and waves that away. “If ye can help, yer welcome to try.”

  “Have ye a spare amethyst geode?”

  Gran nods and I return to the shelf, grabbing a chunk of raw stone that fits into both my hands cupped together. “Do you want it or should Sloan hold it, Patty?”

  “Yer man should hold it.”

  I take his puke bucket and give him the amethyst. It seems to me he got the much better end of the trade, but whatevs. Oh, my poor, surly.

  “Focus on a thing that centers yer soul, lad. Picture yerself in a place of calm and welcome the healing power of the crystals.”

  Sloan closes his eyes and Patty places his stubby fingers at the base of his throat. I feel the magic in the air being drawn to Patty’s command.

  I rub the ache in my leg and scowl. Why is Patty’s healing making me feel off? Sympathetic spell poisoning? Is that a thing?

  I shake myself inwardly and focus on Sloan. “Something’s not right.” I press my fingers to my mouth. “There’s a darkness to this. I feel it.”

  “Aye, there is.” Patty frowns at me. “Apologies, my boy, this won’t be pleasant. Fi, hold the bucket for him. There’s something inside him, and I need to get it out. Missus, if ye wouldn’t mind, may I squeeze in beside the boy?”

  Gran gets to her feet, and Patty slides around to press his free hand at the small of his back. “All right then, give me two more minutes, and this will be over. Fi, yer up.”

  I’m still trying to figure out what that means when Patty strokes his hand up Sloan’s back. As his hand rises, so too does Sloan’s discomfort. When that hand gets to the back of Sloan’s neck, he lets out a pitiful groan and doubles over.

  Having five Irish brothers, I’ve spent more time than most holding buckets or standing witness to the violence of reject and eject, but this isn’t that.

  This is vile and painful.

  Sloan’s whole body shakes as his body ejects the aftereffects of Moira’s spell. He’s not only hurting. This is hurting him. I blink at the sting of tears and switch to k
neel in front of him. Gran takes my spot and grips him around the hips.

  I feel her healing energy and hope it’s helping him in some way. It’s hard to tell.

  After one final choke, he gags, and it’s over.

  His muscles relax, and Patty nods. “All right. Let the boy lay down for twenty minutes. In the meantime, Fi, you and I need to kill that festerbug.”

  “That what?”

  Patty tilts his head to the bucket, and I look in. Wriggling in the pool of Sloan’s stomach contents is a spiny blue beetle. “Okay…you earned an Oh! Henry for that, Mackenzie. That is officially the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Dillan and Emmet close in and look into the bucket.

  Dillan winces. “Yep, I may never sleep again.”

  Emmet nods. “Agreed. Consider this my new worst nightmare. Worthy of a chocolate bar for sure.”

  “Question one, what the hell was that? Question two, where the hell’s Granda? And question three, what the fricky-frack is a festerbug?” My voice gets screechy at the end, but I don’t care. It took Patty and me five minutes to kill a freaking barf beetle, and when we did, somehow, I felt the evil intent of the thing. Okay, question four, how is that possible?

  No one has any answers for me though.

  After the bug was dead and he checked on Sloan, Patty flashed back to the lair with Nikon and the two racked bucks Gran found for the dragon babies to eat.

  “Fi, slow down. Yer makin’ me ill.”

  I spin to check on Sloan, but no, he’s definitely better. His skin has returned to its rich, mocha color and his eyes are clear.

  When he holds out his arms, I give in without a fight and join him on the couch. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much, thank you. Give me five more minutes, and we’ll see if we can track down Lugh.”

  “The boys went with Nikon to Ardfert to check at the shrine. It’s the only place we could think of that would draw him away when he knew we were going after you.”

  He leans back, and I let him pull me with him. “Yer shakin’, Fi. Are ye all right?”

  I shake my head. “Not even close.”

  He leans sideways, rubs his shoulder with mine, and laces our fingers. “Yer accustomed to bein’ the victim, not the one standin’ by holdin’ the waste bin.”

  “I prefer it that way.”

  He chuckles. “I don’t. Yer gettin’ a taste of what it’s like bein’ me. I hate it when ye suffer.”

  Gran comes in with a serving tray and sits it down on the coffee table. “Mashed with ginger sauce. Ye always loved it when ye were a wee boy, and yer tummy hurt.”

  “Thanks, Lara.”

  When he leans forward to collect his plate, she leans in and kisses his forehead. “Yer welcome, my wee man.”

  He sits back and casts me a shy, sideways glance. “What’s the smile for?”

  “Nothing.”

  His brow arches in disbelief. “Are you laughing at me?”

  I lay my cheek on his shoulder and close my eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now, eat your mashed potatoes. The boys will be back at any time, and I’m sure we’ll be on the move again. No rest for the weary.”

  I wake disoriented to the gentle shake of my arm and an apologetic smile from Dillan. “Sorry, baby girl. You two are gonna want to be awake for this.”

  My brother straightens, and I extricate myself from where I’m tucked in against Sloan’s side on the couch.

  “Sorry, we must’ve fallen asleep.”

  “That’s a good thing. You both deserved a time out.”

  “You woke me up, so something is happening?”

  He nods and glances behind me to the couch. “Sloan will probably want to be part of this too.”

  “I’m awake.” Sloan’s voice is deep and graveled. “Just contemplatin’ stealin’ yer sister and portaling back to my bed for a solid sleep. Maybe shut out the world for a while.”

  “I hear you, my man, but the world already busted in on us, I’m afraid.”

  Sloan opens his eyes and sits up. “All right, I’m up.” When he looks at me, he raises his hand over my eyes and the tingle of his magic soothes their evil appearance. “What did we miss?”

  Dillan’s frown doesn’t bode well for any of us. “While we were in Dublin, the witches destroyed the shrine. Granda is sorting through the rubble, but the chalice is gone. The witches have all three pieces of the key.”

  “Shit. If they could destroy it in the first place, why take Sloan and try to force Granda to open it?”

  Dillan shrugs. “Nikon says he can sense Source magic in the aftermath of the destruction. We figure when they realized they’d never get the shrine open through Sloan or Granda, they harnessed the power of the prana and went for ‘blowed up, real good.’”

  I sigh. “Yeah, I suppose wards won’t keep things safe if the entire building is destroyed.”

  “Guess not. Whatever the reason, we gotta boogie.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Google says it’s springtime in Turkey in October.” I close the search window and grab a couple of outfits to stuff into the bag we’re taking. “Long-sleeve temperature for Emmet and me. T-shirt temperatures for you, D.”

  “I’ll have my cloak if I get cool, anyway,” Dillan says.

  I giggle. “I have no doubt.”

  The three of us have put our stuff on the bed in the spare room and are moving in the organized, chaotic way that only happens when you spend your life with people. I give Emmet my stuff, and he adds it to the backpack.

  Gran comes in with an insulated cooler and hands that to Dillan. “A little something to tide you over on your travels.”

  Dillan tosses the strap of the bag over his shoulder and gives me a nod. “I think we’re set.”

  I glance around and frown. “Sorry to leave such a mess, Gran. Just leave it and close the door. We’ll clean up when we get back.”

  “Och, don’t give it a thought, luv.”

  “Speaking of messes,” I say. “How’s Granda doing with the shrine disaster?”

  Gran frowns. “I’m sad to say that he doesn’t think they can save the parish cellar. Brian Perry and Evan Doyle are helping him gather the relics, but they’ll have to figure out another place to store them.”

  “He needs an underground cavern with a dragon, like Patty has. If he needs a guard dragon, I can hook him up.”

  Gran chuckles. “I’ll be sure to mention it. Now, have ye got everything ye need?”

  I glance at the boys, and we all nod. “Yep. We’re good. Once Sloan gets back, I’ll take you to the dragon cavern and get Patty and Dora. Then we’ll go.”

  “Sloan is back,” he calls from the hall. He fills the doorway a moment later, and I smile at how strong and healthy he looks once again. “I apologized to Suede for abandoning her at the Doyle grove for two days, but she doesn’t seem at all put out. I think she and the kissing elf have been doin’ some puttin’ out of their own.”

  “Noice,” Emmet says. “Suede’s a cutie patootie. Did you know elves don’t believe in mating and monogamy? They’re a free love race.”

  I blink at my brother. “I didn’t know that. How do you know that?”

  Emmet’s cheeks flame red, and he clears his throat while glancing at Gran. “It may have come up in conversation over dinner the other night.”

  I wonder if that was before or after she asked me about them in the washroom. Not that it matters at this moment. “Okay, Gran, are you sure you want to do this? Twenty-three baby dragons can be a lot.”

  Gran waves that away and pats the carpetbag hanging over her shoulder. “We’ll make do. No need to fret. I’m looking forward to it. Sloan, dear, could we make a stop at the O’Leary meat plant before we go? Someone brought in a cow that was struck on the road. I thought it would be a nice snack for the little ones.”

  Ha! Little ones. “Speaking of dragon snacks, are you taking your pet skunk?”

  Gran casts me a humoring glance. “I thought he’d be safer
staying here.”

  “Are you trying to avoid him being a two-bite badger?” Emmet asks.

  “I thought it prudent.” She holds out her hand. “Shall we?”

  Getting Gran settled in the dragon lair takes less time than I expect, but then, I’m not sure why that surprises me. Gran is a superhero in her own right.

  “I want ye all to behave yerselves while Lady Cumhaill is carin’ for ye.” Patty addresses the masses. “She’ll tell me when I get back if ye’ve been naughty, and I’ll not be happy. Understood?”

  Twenty-three dragons stare at him, doing their best to look angelic.

  “Don’t worry, guys.” I scrub the glittering scarlet scales of a wyrm girl that looks like her mama. “If all goes well, the queen will wake up soon.”

  Dart pushes between the red dragon I’m petting and me and gives her a huff of smoke. “Easy, dude. I can give attention to all your brothers and sisters, and it doesn’t take away from you. Don’t get testy with your siblings.”

  Dart doesn’t seem to care about that. He snuggles in and rubs his cheek against my chest. I scrub the line of spikes developing along his spine. It runs between his little wings and is so cute. I wonder how much longer he’ll be cute before he becomes a scary, fire-breathing dragon of legend.

  “Off ye go.” Gran slides her bag off her shoulder, drops it on the area rug of the Lay-Z-Boy lounge area, and steps over to the gramophone. “Och, I haven’t seen one of these since I was a wee girlie in pigtails and spent time at Granny’s house. Do ye mind if I play music while yer went?”

  Patty gestures at the antique machine and gives the handle a crank. When the turntable is spinning, he puts the needle on the record. “We have an extensive Elvis collection, but there are a few others as well.”

  “The King is fine with me. Now, go stop those witches and right the wrongs of the world.”

  “Will do.” I kiss Gran on the cheek and hold my finger out to point at the kids. “Be nice to my Gran. I mean it. I’ll only share her with you if you’re good. Remember, she’s the one who’s been arranging for all your food…so don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”