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

by Auburn Tempest

  The long growl that rumbles out of my phone speaker makes me thankful that Garnet is an ocean away. “Careful, Mackenzie. I allow Fiona to play it loose with me because of her connection with Myra and because she likely couldn’t behave with any sort of formal propriety if her life depended on it. That doesn’t mean the same liberties extend to you.”

  I smack Sloan’s shoulder and point at the phone.

  “Apologies, Governor.” Sloan scowls right back at me. “The world is forever takin’ more than Fiona can give. I get a little protective because I care about her.”

  Well, now he’s trying to butter me up.

  It works. I roll my eyes, and my annoyance fades.

  “Fine. I understand posturing to protect your female.” There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone while his voice muffles and he speaks to someone on his end. “Needless to say, I won’t let anyone take advantage of you, Lady Druid. Jimmy assures me this favor will be quick and painless.”

  “Well, they’ve hosted our hostages and found four more casks. It’s the least I can do in return to talk to them about this favor they need. Quid pro quo, amirite?”

  “Right you are,” Garnet says. “That’s good business. It never hurts to make powerful friends and acquaintances in the empowered world.”

  I nod. “True enough. Thanks for the assist, Garnet. I want this one done so I can come home to my city.”

  “You sound tired, Lady Druid.”

  “I am.”

  “Myra wants you to know she misses you and wants you to come home soon. She has lots she wants to tell you.”

  I chuckle. “You know most of that will be gushing about you being a big studly lion, right?”

  “I assumed as much. Still, it’s nice she has a girlfriend she trusts.”

  Yeah, it is. “Tell her I miss her right back, and once we wrap this up, I’ll come straight home.”

  He chuckles. “She’s squealing and bouncing on the bed beside me.”

  Before my mind goes to Garnet and Myra lounging in bed, I change the subject. “When does Jimmy expect me?”

  “Knowing Jimmy, an hour ago. The clock is ticking. The end game is a Samhain ritual, and that would be tonight.”

  Awesomesauce. “Okay, tell Jimmy I’ll gather my hazmat team and be there ASAP.”

  “Will do.”

  “And Garnet…thanks, I owe you one.”

  “You owe me more than one.”

  “I heart you hard, lion man. Seriously. If you weren’t so damned far away, I would climb your muscled bod and lay one right smack on your lips.”

  “Yeah, you would, girlfriend,” Myra yells in the background. “And I’d let you do it, too.”

  “All right, you two,” he says, amusement thick in his voice. “Let’s try to keep this professional.”

  I snort. “Okay, so where am I going?”

  “I’ll text you the info. Jimmy will explain the rest to you in person. I’ll let him know to expect you.”

  “He knows not to touch the casks, right?”

  “He’s aware. The witches described in great detail the workings of their plans. He has no interest in growing gills or a tail.”

  “Good enough. Laters.”

  When the call ends, I step into Sloan’s personal space, and he hugs me tight to his chest. “When will this day be over? I can’t feel my body anymore. Am I standing up? Am I speaking English? Do I have a stunt double who could take the next scene?”

  His chest bounces against my cheek. “Tell me where to meet this Jimmy bloke, and I’ll collect the casks with Sarah. You head into the spare room and take a nap.”

  So tempting.

  “No. I should go. Garnet’s likely told him I’m coming, and he has that favor to ask. I don’t need Irish mercenaries on my hate list. It’s long enough already.”

  He squeezes me tight and kisses my forehead before stepping back. “Fine. Fill yer brother in, text Sarah, and give me five minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To buy a case of Red Bull.”

  “Good call. Sugar-free for me, please.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sloan, Calum, and I pick up Sarah outside the Blarney Mill before three-thirty and fill her in on the next four casks. “What kind of favor are they askin’ for?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “But they jumped the queue on findin’ the casks so that they can blackmail us to get them back? I don’t like the sounds of that.”

  True story. “It’s not my favorite play either, but it’s the hand we’ve been dealt. I want those casks, and if the favor isn’t unreasonable, I think we should play their game and make sure everyone wins.”

  “Do we know anything about these men?”

  Calum shakes his head. “I ran the name Jimmy Duncan through the system and got a few hits. No one who matched the man we met last night though. Either he keeps his dealings under the wire, or his name isn’t really Jimmy Duncan.”

  “That’s not comforting.” Sarah scowls and turns her collar up against the autumn wind buffeting against us. “Very well, I still have a few nappy sacks in my bag, and I tossed in a few other gems in case trouble rears. Emmet suggested that any time I’m out with ye, I prepare for the unexpected.”

  I shrug. “I can’t argue that. So, are we ready?”

  When everyone nods, Sloan holds out his hand. We all stack ours, and he places his other hand on the top of the pile. “I’ve never been to this location, so I’ll get us as close as I can.”

  “That’s all you can do, hotness. Your best is always good enough for us.”

  Sloan poofs us to Waterford, a seaport city in southeast Ireland. When I look around, it doesn’t take me long to figure out why he’s been here.

  “So, Waterford. Tell me about its architectural history. I assume this ancient stone wall bears some significance.”

  Sloan hails a taxi. Once we’re tucked inside, and our driver has our destination's address, Sloan sinks back into his seat beside me. “Waterford is Ireland’s oldest city and was founded by Vikings in 914 CE. The stone wall ye noticed is part of the original city’s core fortifications.”

  I smile as my historian geek gets his groove on. He loves dates and history. I think about Janet saying that she’s never seen him so animated since he’s been with me. It’s a shame she doesn’t take the time to see how he lights up when he’s passionate about something.

  “And of course, Waterford Crystal began here in 1783. The factory is near the historic district and offers tours. We should come one day. It’s a fascinating process.”

  I smile, take his hand, and rest my head against his shoulder. “Sounds like a great idea. For today, I vote we get the casks, find out what this favor’s about, then seal ourselves inside King Henry for five or six hours before we face the witches tonight.”

  “That sounds amazing, but let’s make it the spare room at Lugh’s and Lara’s. My parents are still lookin’ to keep me busy and separate us.”

  “Good point.” I close my eyes and yawn. “Calum, we’re taking your bed for an afternoon nap when we’ve finished here.”

  “It’s yours, Fi. You look like you’re about to drop.”

  “It wouldn’t be so bad if my body wasn’t made out of lead. Damn, my limbs are soooo heavy.”

  Sloan chuckles, and that’s the last thing I remember until he pats my leg sometime later. “We’re here, Fi. I hate to wake ye, but it’s time.”

  I blink and groan. “I was having the best dream, too. Remind me later to tell you about it.”

  The side of his mouth lifts in amusement. “Not something yer willin’ to share with the class?”

  I waggle my brows and smile. “Not even close.”

  “I’m intrigued. I will definitely remind you later.”

  I chuckle and accept his hand to get out and stretch.

  Last night, when we first met Jimmy Duncan and his crew, I wasn’t sure if Garnet’s acquaintances were part of
the empowered sector or not. Even in the daylight, I can’t tell. To me, seeing them standing outside a concrete water purification station, they look like eight human military men wearing black assault gear and carrying automatic weapons.

  “Howeyah, Jimmy. What’s the craic?” I approach the crew. “I heard you had a busy day.”

  Jimmy Duncan is a fit and wiry blond with a crew cut and scruff on his jaw. He steps forward and extends his hand. I wait to see if my shield lights up, but when nothing happens, I meet his palm. “Every day there’s an opportunity to keep our skills honed is a good day.”

  I’d argue that, but whatevs.

  I’m sure not everyone would kill for a PJ day.

  “I’m thrilled you were able to figure out what the witches are up to. I admit, it’s been a long week and to not have to track down these casks is a welcome surprise.”

  “Did Mr. Grant happen to mention a wee favor?”

  I nod. “He didn’t mention any more than that. He simply said in return for your efforts that you might expect a little quid pro quo.”

  Jimmy flashes me a wink. “That’s the gist of it.”

  “You know we’re the good guys, right?” Calum shifts in behind me. “We’re not druids for hire and won’t be part of anything illegal or anything that puts innocents or civilians in danger.”

  Jimmy nods. “Not a problem, sham. This favor won’t put anyone out except the witches themselves. Ye see, as well as tellin’ us about the casks and what they’re up to tonight, they also mentioned a bit of intel the boys and I found of personal interest.”

  “Yeah? What was that?”

  “They said they robbed a leprechaun’s den and found his hoard of gold.”

  I straighten and raise my hand. “Wait. Before you ask me to steal from that particular Man o’ Green, you should know he’s a very dear friend of mine.”

  “Aye, the witches mentioned that. They also mentioned the place was lousy with dragons.”

  “And?” My response comes out more tersely than I intend, but so far this favor is crossing some very personal boundaries.

  “The witches stole a few extra items when they stole the dragon claw dagger.”

  “Oh? That’s news to me. Patty never mentioned anything else that might’ve been missing.”

  “Can’t help ye there. Maybe he’s been busy and hasn’t taken inventory. The item we’re after isn’t made of precious gems or gold.”

  “And that matters why?”

  “Because leprechauns can track gems and gold. The item we’re looking for is the wee man’s shillelagh.”

  I strum my fingers to play an imaginary instrument and look to Sloan for clarification. “Is that like a ukulele?”

  Sloan shakes his head. “No, it’s a wooden walking stick or cudgel made from a stout, knotty blackthorn stick. It usually has a large knob at the top that’s good for crackin’ someone’s noggin’.”

  “So, it’s a walking stick you can use as a weapon in a pinch. Why do you want it?”

  Jimmy frowns. “Because an authentic leprechaun walking stick is a high-value item. We have a buyer who will pay a pretty penny for it.”

  “You only found out they stole it a few hours ago and yet you already have a buyer? Does this buyer know you don’t have the item or that it’s stolen?”

  Jimmy shrugs, unperturbed by my assessment. “We’re businessmen, Miss Cumhaill. In business, sometimes ye gotta bend the rules a little to keep yer clients happy.”

  “Blackmailing me to steal an item that was already stolen from a friend of mine seems like more than bending the rules. It seems like an out and out dick thing to do. I’ll be honest with you. It doesn’t make me happy in the least.”

  Jimmy shrugs. “Maybe from atop yer high horse that’s how the view looks but from where I stand, four casks of pure fae prana is a much more valuable commodity than one wooden stick. Yer gettin’ the better end of the deal here.”

  I can’t argue that, and yeah, my priority is to recover the casks of prana and return them to the cistern. “Fine, but Patty isn’t happy about being robbed once. He won’t be any happier to learn he’s been robbed twice, and I won’t lie to him.”

  “Fair enough. Ye can fill him in, but not until after we have the shillelagh in hand. To that end, ye’ll all need to hand over yer phones.”

  Calum snorts. “Yeah, and you can kiss my precious—”

  Four of the eight raise their automatic weapons, and each one of them points at one of us.

  Like that is it? “Well, you’re not going to shoot us, so you might as well put down your guns.”

  Jimmy flashes me a crooked grin. “That sure of things are ye?”

  “It’s basic logic. If you kill us, you don’t get what you want.” I hold up my finger before he can argue.

  “Yes, you’ll have the casks, but you already know the Goddess wants them back, so she’ll not take kindly to you double-crossing her envoys.”

  He feigns disinterest, and the guns remain poised.

  “Fine, if pissing off a goddess doesn’t scare you, then you know Garnet Grant will track you down because he vouched for you and he’s a close friend of mine.”

  I give him a chance to let that sink in.

  “If Garnet’s fury doesn’t deter you enough, maybe you should know I’m bonded to a mythical spirit bear that will rip you all to shreds for hurting me. Even after you kill me, he will hunt you for eternity and dice you up to bits.”

  I release Bruin, and he swirls through the air and materializes in front of the men with guns, snarling and growling into the air in front of their faces.

  “And if that doesn’t deter you, then I’ll add in the queen dragon and my friend Patty, the Man o’ Green you want me to rob because I guarantee you they will hunt you down too.”

  Jimmy eyes me up and down, and I get the sense he’s assessing how serious I am.

  “I’m not bluffing Mr. Duncan, and you must know it. I find it very difficult to believe you’d ask me any of this unless you already knew my connections and abilities.”

  After a long moment, Jimmy lifts his hands and gives me a slow clap. “Well done, Miss Cumhaill. Ye may talk like an American, but ye’ve got the Irish in ye.”

  I chuff. “I talk like a Canadian, and you bet your precious ass I’ve got the Irish in me. Now have your men lower their guns, or this meeting of the minds ends in bloodshed.”

  He hesitates a moment more, then smiles. “All right, we’ll play it yer way, but I’ll need yer word that none of the four of ye will tip the leprechaun off to where we’re goin’ or what we’re doin’ until it’s over. No phonin’. No textin’. No warnin’ him where we’ll be.”

  “You have my word. Now, where are we going? I’m tired and would rather be horizontal right now sawing logs. Let’s get this over with.”

  The address Jimmy gives me for where the shillelagh is stashed is back in Dublin. A moment after he gives us our instructions, Sloan poofs me, Calum, and Sarah into a shadowed stoop outside a seedy-looking pub.

  “The Witch’s Brew.” I read the glowing fuschia neon. “Do you think the name is cute for the non-magical, or enchanted to draw only those who are empowered inside?”

  Sarah holds her hand up and tests the air. “The second one. There’s a warding spell creating a barrier. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

  I sigh. “Damn. I was kinda hoping it was the first one.”

  “Why’s that, Fi?” Calum asks.

  “Because now we have to go into a bar of witches when we’re in the process of dismantling an evil witch plot and have recently killed or imprisoned two dozen of their friends.”

  Sarah chuckles. “Not all witches are friends, and we certainly don’t talk about coven business with other witches. Odds are, no one will give us a second glance.”

  That goes a long way in easing my nerves. “Okay, let’s get in there, scope out where Patty’s walking stick might be, then grab it and get gone.”

  “Easy as pie,” Calum says.
“Hell, you and Sloan will be spooning and catching up on your shuteye in no time.”

  My eyes flutter closed at the mention of it. “Fair warning, Mackenzie, the more exhausted I am, the higher the odds that I’m going to snore.”

  Sloan chuckles. “Ye mean there are nights when ye don’t sound like yer a buzz saw?”

  I smack his six-pack and frown. “Ow, you flexed.”

  He laughs harder. “I tend to do that when someone’s about to hit me. How’s yer hand?”

  I roll my eyes. “Like you care.”

  He wraps his big, ropey arms around my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “Yer cranky because ye need sleep. Let’s finish this up so we can rest before the Samhain witch ritual tonight.”

  “Yes, let’s,” I huff, glaring at the door to the witch pub. “FYI, you’re no longer invited to nap time. I want the whole bed to myself.”

  He chuckles and eases back. “Not a chance. Now, stop stallin’ and get inside.”

  I yawn. “I’m not stalling. My legs aren’t responding to my mental command.”

  Calum gives me a shove from behind and gets me started. “Thanks, bro. I needed that. Okay, so let’s keep a low profile and get out of here without drawing attention.”

  “Got it. Unobtrusive it is,” Calum says.

  Despite the pub’s skeevy exterior, The Witch’s Brew is cool and exactly the kind of place I’d hang out in if I lived in Dublin. The main floor boasts a long bar along the back wall with a smoked-mirrored wall behind, lit shelves, and glowing drinks giving off wisps of smoky color.

  The clientele is a mixed bag of modern-day witches, some obvious fae—judging by the pastel rainbow of skin colors, horns, and wings—and other magically empowered mages, wizards, moon called, and the like.

  “Fiona and Sloan!” someone shouts off to our right. “What the fuck are ye doin’ here?”

  As the majority of the conversation stops, all eyes turn to the four of us coming in the door. Awesome.

  “Remind me what unobtrusive means again,” Calum says. “Because if this is that, I’ve got it tangled up in my head somehow.”