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

by Auburn Tempest

  He catches the animal and throws it to the ground with a bloody thud. I draw a deep breath. No matter how many times I see Bruin in action, he’s breathtaking.

  Crack.

  The sharp snap in the air hurts my ears and fogs my mind. I fight the brain blur of confusion. Sloan has hit me with enough spells like this in training for me to recognize the sensation and how to defend.

  I counter the spell and the fog burns off.

  A large woman is advancing fast.

  “Wind Wall.” As my spell picks up and gains momentum, I send twisters at the two witches pointing wands at Sloan.

  Another witch sends out an arching spray of white light. It bounces off the rock walls and ceilings and splits into round, silver projectiles. Suddenly we’re being pegged by possessed pinballs of pain.

  Damn, they hurt even with my armor.

  Dora slams the end of her torch staff against the ground in an ultimate Gandalf the Gray move.

  You shall not pass, motherfuckers!

  The satanic orbs drop lifelessly to the ground.

  “Emmet? Are you okay, dude?” Dillan’s voice has me spinning to cover my brother.

  No. Emmet is not okay.

  Dillan looks at me. “Is it his dip in the river?”

  I rush to them. “Sloan? We need you.”

  “Little busy, a ghra.” He deflects a barrage of magic bolts being hurled at him by two witches at once. He sends most of them down the corridor from the direction we came, but one makes it through his defenses and catches him in the chest.

  With a grunt and a curse, he’s knocked to the side. When the bitch witch that cast it leans in to grab him, I run and do a flying leg lariat. In an aerial leap, I wrap my legs around her neck and take her to the ground.

  Dillan snorts. “Such a lady.”

  I roll to my feet and give my brother a dainty curtsy. “Better?”

  A curse behind me cuts off the shenanigans.

  My mind short-circuits as Emmet groans. Then his form shifts. One second he’s an ebony-haired, emerald-eyed hottie, and the next he’s a—

  “What the fuckety-fuck!” Dillan shouts.

  Sloan turns. “Where’d the kangaroo come from?”

  I duck a flying rock. “That’s Emmet. Everyone, Captain Jack is my brother. Don’t kill him.”

  I don’t even know what to do with that, but in true Emmet fashion, he takes a few tentative hops. Then he leans back on his tail and kicks the shit out of witches. Front paws up and clenched; he’s an Evander Holyfield with fur. Fine. There’s nothing to be done about it now.

  I get back to it. There’s still a lot of wand-flicking going on, but thankfully, in such close quarters, the witches are at a disadvantage. If they try anything too big, they’re liable to take out their own.

  An explosion of rocks behind me sends Patty flying through the air.

  Bruin rises on his mighty back paws and plucks the leprechaun out of the air before he hits the wall.

  “Good catch, Bear.”

  A blonde witch yelps as Nikon backhands her and her wand flies free of her hand and lands out of reach. He makes a quick grab for the twined twig and comes up smiling. Gripping it tightly in one hand, he holds out his other hand, and a steady stream of magic arcs from his palm.

  “I can play that game too.” Nikon’s arcing stream takes her down in a fit of convulsions.

  Dayam, the Greek’s got game.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch someone moving in on Bruin hard and fast. I spin Birga in my palm and swipe low, catching her across the back of her ankle and severing her Achilles tendon.

  She goes down like a rock.

  An energy blast hits me in the chest and throws me back. The next thing I know, I’m staring up at the rock ceiling of the cave. I cough, and blood washes my throat. Turning my head to the side, I spit scarlet.

  The straggly-haired old witch with yellow eyes leans over me and lets a gob of loogie drop from her mouth. I can’t get up or out of the way. Her spit lands on my face and slithers its way down my jaw and into my ear.

  Um…nasty.

  The whistle of air as Bruin line-drives the old girl into the wall is satisfying—but not as satisfying as the crunch of prehistoric bones.

  “Fiona, shitshitshit.” Dillan drops to his knees beside me.

  The weighty shuffle and hop of two small and two large paws and a tail follow his arrival. I can’t help it. When Emmet-roo leans in and looks down at me with his little snout and ears, I start to laugh.

  I regret it immediately. The blood in my mouth makes me sputter and graduates to a full-on coughing spell.

  “Sloan, we need you,” Dillan says. “Okay, Fi. I’m going to finish off these assholes and tag out your boy-toy so he can heal you, yeah? Hang in there.”

  “Don’t panic,” I wheeze. “S’all good.”

  “Shit yeah. I can tell by the blood you’re coughing up. You’re aces.”

  I let him have that one.

  “Och, Fiona, yer gonna be the death of me, I swear.” Sloan kneels beside me and presses his hands on the scorch mark on my shirt. As he runs his hands over my chest, the warmth of his healing energy seeps into my body.

  Telling him I’m good won’t fly any better than it did with Dillan. Tough crowd. “How’s your chest? I saw you get pegged by a magic bolt too.”

  “Close yer eyes and focus on healing. Yer the one with internal bleedin’.”

  “So you can worry but I can’t?”

  The tension in his brow eases. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, Fi. Thanks fer askin’. I’ll be pleased to let you play doctor and give me a thorough examination later.”

  I fight not to laugh. The last thing I need is another blood-horking coughing spell. “Did you see Emmet in action?”

  Sloan cants his head to the side. “It’s hard to miss an eight-foot kangaroo power-kicking witches into the walls.”

  I blink up at Sloan and see the concern in his eyes. “It’s temporary though, right? A side effect of his swim?”

  “I expect so.”

  “More words, please. Elaborate.”

  “Ye do realize that I’m healing yer internal injuries after both of us were recently struck down by a witch’s spell, yes?”

  “What? You can’t do that and elaborate? Communication is key to a lasting relationship.”

  He rolls his eyes, finishes with my chest, and lifts the hem of my shirt to get a visual of my ribs and tummy. When he resets the position of his hands, he meets my gaze. “Yer ridiculous. Yer lucky I’ve learned to find it endearing.”

  “Such a sweet-talker. Back to Emmet being a marsupial.”

  “Wildlife Transfiguration is a common advanced ability of Druids. I’m sure that’s all it is. I highly doubt yer brother will be hopping long.”

  As good as that is to hear, it would be better if I didn’t hear the lie in his voice. He doesn’t have a clue and doesn’t want to scare me…thus the original evasion.

  “Are you done yet?”

  “Not quite.”

  I close my eyes, but that’s a major mistake. Without my sight set on a focal point, the world spins, and the squirrels nesting in my stomach go nutty.

  I open my eyes again and smile at Emmet. “Hey, bro. What do you call a lazy kangaroo?”

  Emmet-roo tilts his head to one side, and I can read his thoughts as clearly as if I could truly read his thoughts. The way his mouth falls open and his little black nose twitches, he’s saying, “Seriously, Fi? I’m a freaking kangaroo, and you’re going to tell jokes?”

  “Any guesses?”

  Dillan chuckles, joining in. “I give up, Fi. What do you call a lazy kangaroo?”

  “A pouch potato.” Ha! I crack me up.

  Emmet looks far less amused.

  I tweak his shiny black nose and giggle. “Seriously, Em. This is temporary. You wished for an offensive weapon, and now you have an advanced ability to transform into animals. That’s super cool.”

  “Is it different animals or
kangaroo-specific?” Dillan asks.

  Sloan’s healing energy stops tingling, and he sits back on his heels. “Wildlife Transfiguration usually starts with one dominant form, and as the warrior grows more accomplished at shifting forms, it expands to other animals.”

  I hold up my hands for Dillan and Sloan to help me to my feet. The shift in position gives my stomach a slosh, but I swallow back the burn of bile and fake it.

  All is well. Look away. Nothing to see here.

  After checking that I’m steady on my feet, I take a look at the carnage. “Yay team! Did we get them all?”

  “No,” Nikon and Dora both say at once. “The witches that were here weren’t coven leaders or high priests or priestesses. These were minions.”

  “Yeah, but we kicked their minion asses. Still a win. What’s next?”

  Nikon points at the shiny steel kegs. “I vote we return the magic waters to the lake and seal this baby up for another two thousand years.”

  “Agreed,” Dora says. “And we’ll do better at safeguarding the three key components this time around.”

  The mention of safeguarding magical components reminds me of the Eochair Prana. I still have to come up with a better solution for Morgana’s answer to all evil than buried in the cemetery behind my house. That’s straight out of any paranormal tv show.

  I collect Birga, clean her, thank her, and return her to her inked form on the inside of my forearm. She’s always quite content after bloodshed.

  It’s the necromancer enchantment on her.

  Meh, everyone has their thing.

  With that done, I head over to help empty the kegs.

  “Let us take care of it.” Sloan frowns. “It’ll take an hour or two until yer strength is restored, and I’d rather ye not spill a keg of magical energy on yer foot.”

  “Irish has a point, Fi.” Dillan points at where Patty sits on a rock next to Bruin. “Take a load off until we’re ready to roll. Once we get things restored, Sloan and Nikon can poof us home.”

  I want to argue, but honestly, if they want to do all the grunt work while I recoup and eat the Gran-wiches, who am I to argue?

  Despite Sloan’s prediction, it only takes Nikon, Dillan, Sloan, and Dora slightly longer than one hour to return the water to the cistern. They’re super careful about making sure not to get splashed, and after seeing Emmet scratching his furry ass, I think that point has hit home even more.

  It’s back-breaking work, but they never complain.

  Sloan steps through the opening to the prana lake and sets down the last empty keg. “This is the birthplace of fae power and should’ve been left undisturbed.”

  “Since that ship has sailed, the least we can do as guardians of nature is restore it.” Picking the last triangle sandwich from our Gran care package, I hold it up for Emmet to munch.

  “Well done, boys,” Dora says. When the four of them exit the lake area, Dora activates the key, and the stone wall seals off the cistern behind them. “Take no liberties. Leave no trace.”

  Dillan sighs and perches on a rock. “What about dead bodies and captive criminal witches? Can we leave those? Because I’m beat.”

  “I shall take care of the misguided ones, my child.”

  The eight of us stiffen as a woman walks through a shimmering spot on the stone wall. The white glow coming off her is blinding. When the brilliance dims, I lower my hand shielding my eyes, and try to make sense of this.

  She’s a healthy-looking, plus-sized woman wearing overalls and lady-bug print gardening gloves. The knees of her pants are dark with dirt, and the soil matches the smudges on her cheek.

  Her skin is the warm, chestnut brown of Bruin’s fur, her hair black as night and hanging in long, lazy curls, and her eyes are the stunning turquoise of a Caribbean coastline.

  She’s utterly resplendent.

  Her beauty isn’t so much what we see but what I feel inside when I look at her.

  She is home.

  Sloan, Nikon, and Dora drop to one knee and lower their gaze to the ground. I blink at the coordination of the act and if we weren’t in the presence of the woman I think is the goddess of nature herself, I would’ve cracked wise.

  Instead, I join them.

  Patty and Dillan kneel beside me and Emmet bows.

  “Such a welcome. Thank you. It’s been a great many years since visitors wandered these corridors, and after bearing witness to the behavior and motivation of these women, it disheartened me. Then you arrived—my beloved guardians—and restored my faith.”

  Yay team!

  She walks forward and scrubs the fur of Emmet’s cheek. “Yes, sweet boy, you are whole and well and will once more be the male you are. Your body is simply adjusting to the power you were exposed to. There’s no need to be afraid. All will be as it’s meant.”

  Emmet thumps the stone floor with his tail.

  I draw in my first deep breath since his transformation.

  “Now then,” Mother Nature says, “as much as I value what you all have done already, there is a task I must ask of you. A task of vital purpose.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Our entire group poofs into the dragon lair, directed by Sloan and power-boosted by Nikon. The night’s been a team effort all around. “Hello, the lair,” I call out as we all stride toward the dragon queen. I catch a glimpse of our group, and it strikes my funny bone. “A kangaroo, an immortal, and a Man o’ Green walk into a dragon lair.”

  “Funny girl,” Nikon says.

  “Yer back.” Gran looks up from where she’s reclining in the chair Patty added to the seating area during my stay. She looks whole and relaxed and not at all as harried as poor Patty did when he oversaw the kids on his own. “What’s the craic, kids?”

  I giggle at her question. She’s lounging in the chair with a scarlet dragon head in her lap while twenty-two other dragons are piled and overlapping on the area rug around her. “We got the job done, and everyone has their fingers and toes. Emmet gained a tail but still has his fingers and toes. What about you guys? Everyone seems to be behaving well.”

  “Every child loves storytime, luv.”

  Sloan’s expression breaks into a wide grin. “Did ye tell them the one about the wolf riders?”

  “I did.”

  “And the sprites getting trapped in their home tree?”

  “That one too.”

  Sloan catches me smiling at him and shrugs. “What? She’s a great storyteller.”

  I hug his arm and push up onto my toes to kiss his cheek. “By the look of this contented crew, I have no doubt.”

  Dart straightens from where he’s curled up next to the gramophone, checks out the cluttered heaps of sibling dragon bodies between us, and grunts.

  My jaw drops as he launches into the air and with a few awkward flaps of his wings crash-lands next to us. Swishing his tail, he pushes the scaled appendage between Sloan and me and pulls me against him.

  I hug him and scrub my knuckles between his horns. He lets out a contented purr, and I kiss his snout. “That was amazing, baby. Good job.”

  Dillan smacks Sloan on the back and laughs. “That’s classic. You just got cock-blocked by a dragon. Dude, that’s gotta be a first.”

  I straighten and catch the triumphant glimmer in Dart’s eyes. Oh, dear. I don’t want my dragon jealous of my boyfriend. That can’t be good on any front.

  “Fi, luv. Ye still haven’t told me what went on.”

  I snap out of my mental musings and catch Gran up on Gobekli Tepe and the Cistern of The Source and the witches. “Then we spent the next hour removing witch discs from the offshoot tunnels and corridors of the underground passages. We hope that’s all the queen will need to revive.”

  I look over at where Patty and Dora are examining Her Scaliness. “Any change?”

  Patty runs his stubby fingers over his white beard. “It’s hard to say. I think her breathing is deeper, but she’s not waking up yet.”

  Gran shoos a few dragon babes away from th
e base of the chair, lowers her footrest, and joins us. “Och, I’m sure it’s a matter of a moment, and she’ll revive. It sounds like ye had a grand adventure.”

  “Also known as a day in the life of yer granddaughter, Lara.” Sloan laughs when I throw him a look, but he’s not wrong. It seems the Fianna crest on my back is still working its magnetic magic to draw all of life’s whacked and weird adventures to me.

  Gran wraps an arm around my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “They’re only coddin’ ye, luv. Yer meant fer great things. I knew that the moment I met ye.”

  I stick my tongue out at Sloan, and the bastard only laughs harder.

  “And what’s this? Ye picked yerselves up a kangaroo along yer travels—och, good gracious.” She looks at me with a knowing look, and I nod. When she returns her attention to Emmet-roo, she cups his pointed jaw. “What happened, my sweet boy?”

  “The battle took a turn,” I say. “He ended up taking an unexpected dip in a primary ley line. It’s okay, though. Mother Nature said all is as it’s meant to be and he’ll be fine once his body adjusts to the exposure to the power.”

  “Mother Nature?”

  “Yeah, we met her. She came to praise her guardians for doing what’s right for the natural world.”

  Gran looks at me, her eyes far too glassy. “My word, ye make me so proud I could burst at the seams, I swear.”

  I hug her from the side, and we look at Emmet. “I’m sure you’ll be back to normal soon, Em. I have a good feeling.”

  Gran scrubs the tips of her fingers under his chin. “Well, if the goddess says it’s so, then it is. Chin up, son. Ye still have three days before yer due back to work. I’m sure ye’ll be sorted by then.”

  Dillan flashes me a private look. Yep. We need him sorted because he’s the new kid on the beat. He can’t miss shifts this early out of the gate. Deciding there’s nothing to do about that but wait and see, I head over to join Dora and Patty.

  “Anything?”

  Dora is straddling one of the queen’s tail coils, her hands pressed to her chest, her hands glowing gold. “It won’t be long now. I think it might be best if we leave. She doesn’t know us and will likely wake disoriented and defensive.”