A Sacred Grove (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 2)

by Auburn Tempest

  I realize then, Emmet has fallen quiet and the two of them have grown eerily still. I don’t look over, but I know they’re awake and listening.

  “Bound to command? I don’t understand.” Okay, now she has me rhyming. “Who’s bound to whom?”

  “Not all druids value nature and life. Others gain power through death and strife.”

  Right. The Black Dog are dark druids. They are definitely the death and strife types.

  “And that’s why they’re destroying the druid groves? It’s not to weaken the Nine Families as we thought. It’s to access the power of the fae folk living within.”

  She dips her head again and gestures a leafy palm toward the surrounding trees. “The dawning of truth begins our defense. Free the dead taken and right the offense.”

  I’m not a hundy percent on what she’s saying, but I get the gist of it. “I’ll do my best. Your insights are well received. I value your trust in me.”

  “Trust is earned, and this is your test. A warrior grows most on a quest.”

  They need me to stop the Black Dog from destroying the fae forests and free the ones taken. I survey the hopeful glances of the fae folk and nod my understanding. “Namaste.”

  “Namaste.”

  The tree lady bows her twig antlers and backs away. Soon after, the rest of our gathering follows suit. A moment later, the mossy clearing is empty, and Bruin materializes to sit with me, Calum, and Emmet.

  “Always an adventure with you around, Red.”

  “Holy shit,” Emmet exclaims. “Did that happen?”

  “Geez, Fi. What is it with you and the fae strange and unusual? You’re like a beacon for the bizarre.”

  I flop back down onto my pillow and snuggle deep into my sleeping bag. “It’s my stupid Fianna mark. It’s a magnet of mayhem.”

  Calum scrubs a rough hand over his face and exhales. “Da and Granda will crap themselves when we tell them what happened. Free the dead taken to be bound by command…are we talking necromancy?”

  I chuckle. “That’s your geek gamer showing. Is that even real? And how could we see them?”

  “I have no idea about either question. Should we go find out now or wait until morning?”

  “Wait until morning.” My mind spins. “There’s no sense in getting everyone spooked in the middle of the night. Maybe we can get some sleep.”

  Emmet barks a laugh. “After that little meet and greet, I may never sleep again.”

  I close my eyes and try not to think about it. “Believe it or not, I’m getting used to shit like this.”

  Chapter Four

  “Necromancy?” Granda snaps and reels back in his seat at the head of the table the next morning. “And yer just gettin’ around to tellin’ us now?”

  I scowl at the old man and finish stirring the juice I’m making in the jug. I pour Jackson a half-glass and set the pitcher on the mat in the center of the table. “What could we have done at four in the morning other than rant and stew? I opted to let everyone else sleep and have only the three of us up all night.”

  “Regardless of when we found out,” Da finishes his plate and rises to give Calum his spot, “we’re all up to speed now. We know that the attacks aren’t about the groves themselves but the link between the groves and the fae folk who inhabit them. Black Dog captured the hidden ones and will drain them for their power and control.”

  “It’s sickening,” Gran says. “Where do people like that come from? Have they no sense of honor?”

  “I’m afraid not, Mam.” Da squeezes her shoulder on his way to the sink. “Fi and Sloan came into contact with the dark magic of the Toronto group, but had never felt the exploited energy of the dead and so didn’t recognize it for what it was.”

  Calum sits at the table and starts in on his breakfast. “It also explains why they wanted to drain Fi on the altar stone and why the human bodies we discovered in the woods were desiccated and drained as well.”

  “What power did those humans have?” Dillan asks. “This is going to sound horrible, and I don’t mean it to, but they were only human.”

  “Every living thing has power, lad,” Granda says. “Druids protect the cyclical balance between death and life. A tree grows strong, dies, decays, nurtures the soil, and spawns new life. It’s a slow and powerful sequence of events that progress with the natural order and a rhythm. The same goes for the life spans of animals and humans.”

  “But the fae hold much more power,” Aiden states.

  “They do. They offer raw power on an elevated scale.”

  Aiden leans against the edge of the counter and frowns. “So, these guys are what, druids who want to consume more life so they can stave off death?”

  Da nods. “That’s a succinct way to look at it, son. Druids who turn to necromancy are looking for instant gratification magic. They believe that out of death comes life, the same as us, but if they can drain and possess that life power they can enhance and extend their life stores.”

  “What do they think that gets them?” Calum asks. “Superpowers? Immortality?”

  “Well, if they have a host of fae to drain and feed off, it’s possible. Many fae are immortal. If they captured and bound the creatures from the Perry forest, they already have an undying supply of power.”

  “And still they wanted more? If the Queen of Wyrms hadn’t been appalled by what they were doing and eaten them, they would’ve drained the Doyle forest too.”

  “How do we stop them?” Dillan takes his and Aiden’s plates to the sink to wash up.

  I take his spot and fill a plate. “The fae I spoke to said Fionn had always acted as their champion. She called him their warrior. Maybe there’s something in the fortress that will help—a weapon or a spell in a grimoire or something.”

  “That’s likely our best option.” Granda pours himself another coffee. “I’ll call around to the other families and make sure they know what we’re dealing with. Maybe one of them has an ancestral spell to ward against necromancers trespassing onto their property.”

  “In the meantime,” Da rubs his palms together. “We need to train today as planned. Even with the information Fi was given about how to access the fortress and where the traps and wards lay, you all need to know your strengths and limitations before we head off on the quest.”

  I swallow and reach for my juice. “I texted Sloan this morning and filled him in. He’s meeting us in the rings at ten to work on assessing you guys now that we’ve got real fae energy to power us up.”

  “Och, luv.” Gran restocks the fruit on the bird platform beneath the open skylight. “It must be so difficult for ye to get anythin’ done in the city. I wish ye’d all consider comin’ home and bein’ at one with yer heritage.”

  I take a couple of sips of juice and set my glass on the table. “I’m more determined than ever that we can be urban druids, Gran. Our grove is starting to take root. And I work for a meliae, and she has power.”

  Granda sighs. “Tree nymphs get power from their home tree, Fi. Druids get power from our surroundings at large. Yer Gran’s not wrong when she says ye’d find greater success here than ye will there.”

  “Easier and faster success, definitely, but maybe not greater. Toronto offers us things too, and while they might not be the same as what the countryside of Kerry offers, I have no doubt we’ll figure it out.”

  “Besides,” Calum points out as he finishes his breakfast. “If the Black Dogs within Toronto have established a base and built druid stones and are thriving there, we can too.”

  “And we have to,” Aiden adds. “If there are dark druids using necromancy to foul our streets, we can’t walk away. We’ve all sworn to serve and protect. Those aren’t simply words on our badge. It’s our calling.”

  “Och, I know.” Gran hands Granda the cream and sweetener. “I worry, is all. And I hate the thought of ye bein’ there alone and facin’ darkness without the aid of the Order.”

  Aiden squeezes Kinu’s hand, wipes Jackson’s face, and
kisses the top of Meggie’s ebony mop of curls. “We’re Cumhaills, Gran. We don’t face anything alone.”

  Emmet holds out his hand, and I pass him my plate. He goes around the table collecting and stacking the dishes, then hands them off to Calum and Dillan at the sink.

  I smile at my brothers, priceless treasures each of them. “We’ll make it work, Gran. You’ll see. And you never know. Maybe if we prove we can do it, other descendants who left their druid roots behind to live a different life will circle back around and reclaim their heritage.”

  Gran’s smile is indulgent and not at all convincing. “I’m sure you’re right, luv. And by the sounds of things, you’re off to a grand start.”

  “Off ye go, now,” Granda urges. “It’s going on ten, and it’s rude to keep people waiting.”

  I kiss Jackson and Meg and bring my glass to the counter. “Okay, let’s see what we have to work with, boys.”

  The training ring on my Granda’s property is something to behold. At first glance, it seems like nothing more than a simple set of round, stepped plateaus sunken into the ground. When you spend a moment studying it, you see the beauty—or at least, I do.

  Three cylindrical rings styled after an ancient Greek amphitheater cut deep into the ground and tighten in diameter. With each three-foot drop into the descending landscape, the rings narrow. At the bottom, a flat circle of manicured grass acts as the training floor.

  Although it’s grass and not sand, and we’re druids and not gladiators, the marvel doesn’t diminish. It’s cool.

  Over the next hours, my brothers and I fill the rings with laughter and grunts and more than a few curse words. Da reunites with his old competition staff and challenges us, three on one. It’s no contest. He’s a phenom.

  His prowess is both surprising and not. I’ve long believed there is nothing Da can’t do. He tends to prove me right more often than not.

  Sloan assesses each of my brothers individually and off to the side while we train. Aiden’s primary discipline is Physical, like Da. Calum’s is Communication, Dillan’s is Illusion, and Emmet’s is Healing. He retests me, and while my physical strengths are still dominant, my connection with nature and weather are close runners-up. Communication is strong too.

  “Watch yer guard, Fi,” Da shouts.

  The end of Calum’s wooden sword whistles past my cheek. It’s close enough that it catches my hair as I spin my head and my heart thunders in my chest. I anticipate what’s coming next though.

  After Calum swings, he lunges with his left foot. I’m ready for it, swipe his leg, and launch at him, taking him to the ground. His back hits the ground hard, and he lets out a breathy grunt.

  I hold my practice sword to his throat and grin. “Say it, Cumhaill. Let me hear the magic words.”

  “Mercy,” he wheezes. “Fi is the Queen of Amazeballs.”

  Bruin’s burly laughter rumbles from the sidelines.

  “Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing.”

  Calum laughs, and I bounce, perched on his chest. “You’re also so incredibly humble.”

  I roll off him and allow him to get reacquainted with respiration. “You are a wise and perceptive man.”

  “Cumhaill. Are ye ready to take off the trainin’ wheels, then? Do ye think ye have what it takes to best someone not in the infancy of trainin’?”

  I straighten and meet the challenge in Sloan’s mint-green gaze. “You sure you’re ready for what I’ve got going on? I am reigning Queen of Amazeballs.”

  He adjusts his workout pants against his muscled thighs, crouches into a ready position, and flicks his fingers in invitation. “Then ye can consider this a coup against the queen. Defend yer crown, Cumhaill.”

  His hands are empty, so I toss my practice sword to the ground, and we circle. My muscles are already fatigued and quivering from taking on Da and Calum, but there is no way I’ll give in to a direct challenge from Sloan.

  “I’ve been practicing.” I shift my bare feet in the grass as we circle. “I’m not the same fighter you took on in Toronto last month.”

  “Yer still as mouthy and cock-sure.”

  “And you’re as autocratic and rude.”

  He flashes me his GQ supermodel grin, and I curse myself inwardly. It galls me that I melt a little when he looks at me like that, but I refuse to give in.

  I am woman. Hear me roar.

  “What do you do around here besides stomp and strut around like the peacock prince?”

  His grin widens. “Stall all ye want, ye wee girl. Ye won’t find a weakness. If yer scared, say so. Ye’ve admitted as much to me before.”

  Laughter bubbles up my throat, and I burst out laughing. “I confessed I was afraid to face Baba Yaga alone. That’s not fear, that’s intelligence.”

  “Whatever ye say.”

  I shake out my hands, ready to get this show on the road. “Show me what you think you’ve got going on, big boy.”

  Emmet hangs his head forward and groans. “We get it. You’re both aces. Can we fast-forward through the bravado and get to the ass-whooping?”

  “Exactly.” Aiden folds his muscular arms over his chest. “You’re wasting daylight, you two.”

  I lunge forward and feel Sloan’s magic tingle over my skin a second before I fall to the ground stiff as a board. “Stop thinkin’ like a civilian, Cumhaill. Yer a caster—so, cast!”

  I hear the frustration in his voice, and it lights my temper.

  Sloan picks up the wooden sword and points the tip against my chest. “If this were a battle, I’d have ye dead to rights. Raise the bar. Figure out what I cast against ye. Break the spell and defend yerself.”

  I growl and focus on breaking his hold on me. Heat burns my cheeks, and blood rushes in my veins. I’m spitting mad by the time I roll onto my hands and push up onto my feet.

  Gone is my playful mood. I want to take him down.

  Focused on my next attack, I cast a confusion spell and push it out at him. He raises his hand and mutters something in tongues. I lose focus immediately and blink at the worried faces of my brothers.

  Why do they look sad?

  “Come on, Cumhaill. Ye may have managed to live through the assault of the Black Dog when they underestimated ye, but another surge is comin’. Ye need to be better.”

  “All right.” Dillan steps into the ring. “Enough.”

  “Leave them.” Da holds up his hand. “Better she learns the lesson here than at the hands of the enemy.”

  What lesson? Why is my head swimming in a brain fog?

  Damn it. I focus on breaking my rebounded spell and ball my fists at my sides. As I fight myself free of the confusion, my eyes sting with the fury of traitorous tears.

  Sloan watches me, his palms up and at the ready, his gaze appraising. “Focus, Fi. Control yer temper and come at me with a clear plan.”

  I plan to make him pay for making a fool out of me in front of my family. I swipe my cheek as the wind gusts and picks up around us. My hair whips against my cheeks and his eyes widen as a gale wind gains strength.

  “If yer not in control of yer offense, yer out of control and no good to yerself or the others. Don’t let yer hubris be the death of one of them.”

  Emmet curses and throws up his hands. “Yeah, let’s piss off the Irish girl. Said no one—ever.”

  “Yer out of control.” Sloan lowers his chin and meets my gaze with a focus I feel right to the core of my chest. “Yer a danger to them. Yer not ready and ye know it.”

  A crack of lightning splits the sky.

  Before it hits the circle where we’re standing, Sloan lunges forward and portals us out of the strike zone. The moment my feet touch the ground, I punch him in the gut and push away.

  I want him to shut up.

  I want him to be wrong.

  He’s not. I’m not ready, and now it’s not only dark druids coming at us, but they’re also life-sucking necromancers. It’s not only me in the line of fire. It’s my family.

  “Fiona, ye’v
e got—”

  “Not another word.” I point my finger at his stupid face. I swipe at the moisture on my cheek and feel the fall-apart barreling down on me. “You made your point, asshole. I’m in over my head, and you’re a thousand times better than me at everything. Congrats. I vote for you to take it from here. Problem solved.”

  He opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he sees in my face cuts that shit off quickly. I turn on my heel, then stomp to the steps and leave the training rings in my dust.

  I’m halfway back to the house when I remember Aiden, Kinu, and the kids are using the spare bedroom I consider my private space. I have nowhere to run and hide. I take a hard left and step into the grove.

  The trees still hold their full foliage from summer, and it’s cool and peaceful. Nature surrounds me with its blanket of calm and I can breathe again. Deep in the trees, I call on Feline Finesse and climb forty feet into the canopy.

  Alone at last, I sit in a wide intersection of branches and bring my knees to my chest.

  Imposter syndrome is real, and I’ve been outed.

  Sure, in an hour or two I’ll pull myself together and lift my chin. For now—alone in the strong arms of this tree—I’m overwhelmed. I wrap my arms around my shins and release my insecurities.

  It’s dark when Da climbs up my tree and perches on my branch. My ass is long past numb, and I’ve finished my pity-party. I’m just too stubborn to face the humiliation of worried glances and turning heads of a well-meaning family.

  “That bad, is it?” He holds out his arm.

  I scootch over on the branch and sit beside him so he can rest his arm over my shoulder. “Worse.”

  “Ye think so?”

  “Sloan pushed every button I have, and I completely lost focus. He always tells me to stop fighting like I’m in a city alley and start thinking about things like a druid. I never do. It doesn’t come naturally to me.”

  “Ye’ve been a normal, human scrapper for twenty-three years and a druid for three months, Fi. Give yerself time.”