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

by Auburn Tempest

  “You sound like Da.”

  His touch eases around the ribs banding my side. The contact of skin-on-skin warms, and I almost groan as the low-level ache I’ve suffered for two days eases and dissolves.

  He must read the relief in my gaze because he frowns and shakes his head. “Nothing was broken, but they were bruised. Don’t be such a hero. If yer hurt, ye have to tell one of us. Otherwise, how will we know if ye need help?”

  Mention of a hero brings images of Brenny to mind and my eyes sting. It’s stupid how that loss sneaks up on me at the most inopportune times.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  I stiffen and blink fast, searching for the intruder. “Mr. Grant.” I abandon my swing and step out of the grove to find him standing at the back gate. “Twice in one night. To what do I owe the honor?”

  Garnet looks from me to Sloan and back again. “I owe you a serious apology.”

  “You? Why?”

  “I declared you free to go about your business in restoring the ambient magic. I never thought any more of it. If one of my men hurt you, it’s on me.”

  I shrug and pat my side. “Sloan patched me up, so you’re off the hook.”

  “Who did it, Lady Druid?”

  I check his eyes. They’re still amethyst purple, but I sense his lion’s primal nature close to the surface. “I’d rather build relationships, not tear them down. Eyes on the horizon, and all that.”

  “I appreciate that, and from a political standpoint, I respect it. But as an Alpha of the Moon Called, if someone disrespects my leadership, I need to know who. Doubt and mistrust are cancer in the animal kingdom. The same goes for the Were kingdoms.”

  I shrug. “Not my monkeys. Not my circus.”

  Sloan frowns. “It was yer man Trent.”

  “Et tu, Brute?” I peg Sloan with a glare. “What happened to me not wanting to cause bad blood with anyone else in the magical community?”

  Sloan shrugs. “You might not want to cause bad blood, but I don’t give a flying fuck. That animal cornered ye on the dancefloor at a pub to intimidate ye. He knew ye couldn’t defend yerself in public without causing a scene and he took advantage. It was cowardly and deserves to be addressed.”

  I look from Sloan to Garnet and shake my head. “I never told him any of that. He’s guessing.”

  “Yer not that complex a book to read, Cumhaill. I was there. I saw how hurt and shaken ye were when ye came back to the table. Ye told yer da one of Garnet’s men caught ye off-guard. It’s not rocket science to put the two things together.”

  Garnet nods his thanks to Sloan, then smiles at me. “Don’t be too hard on your man, Lady Druid. That’s what I expected to hear. I’m sorry for your suffering. Be assured I’ll deal with him.”

  When Garnet flashes away, I’m left looking at an annoyed and guarded Sloan. “Why are you pissed off? I’m the one who should be mad.”

  “Call it preventative ire. I know where yer headed, and I’ll not apologize for hangin’ the beast out to dry. Ye fuck with the lass, ye get put on yer ass.”

  Despite wanting to stay mad at him, I have to laugh. “Did you just make that up, or have you been saving it?”

  “It came to me just now, although I’m thinkin’ of gettin’ t-shirts made.”

  I close my eyes and shake off my night. “Gawd, when did I become fodder for t-shirts?”

  Sloan shrugs. “I have no idea. I’ve only known ye four months. I’d bet, however, it was long before then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  In the spirit of entertaining our fae with music, we rig up the basement TV in the grove and watch Burlesque as a group. Kevin and Calum are in the Adirondacks, Sloan and I are in our fancy new basket chair swings, and Emmet is on the ground buried under fae creatures happy to snuggle with him.

  Sloan thought I was crazy when I suggested it, but hey, why walk the path everyone else walks, amirite?

  “Man, Christina Aguilera killed that number,” I say.

  Pip and Nilm are dancing, and the Spriggans and Ostara rabbits are flitting and fluttering around. The purple lady with the white wings nods. “Is most good.”

  Ow, shit. I sit up, my back on fire. “My shield lit up, boys. Something’s amiss.”

  We all jump to our feet in the next second. Emmet phones Dillan inside the house. “We’ve got trouble. Grab your hood and get out here.”

  Calum flexes his fists and calls his bow and quiver.

  Kevin growls. “So fucking hot.”

  Calum chuckles and plants a kiss on him. “Stay inside the grove. It’s warded. You’ll be safe in here.”

  “Be safe out there,” Kev says.

  “Bear, you’re up, buddy.” I step out toward the edge of the trees and scan the back yard.

  Emmet looks back and frowns. “Our fae are scared.”

  I offer them a genuine smile of reassurance. “Don’t be. We are your druids. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Dillan launches off the back porch with Da following him at a dead run. Emmet bolts out to join them, and I frown. Em’s weapon is amping us up for a fight. He shouldn’t be at the front of the pack.

  I feel his fury, though, and share it.

  Whether it’s the Black Dog or hobgoblins or maniacal shifters, they have no business anywhere near our home or our sacred grove. Thundering footsteps beside me bring me the comfort of knowing we’re facing this together.

  Whoever dares to challenge us has no idea what an ass-whooping they’re in for.

  Chaos explodes the moment my brothers reach the back lane. Whatever illusion the hobgoblins glamoured themselves with to hide their presence drops once we’re all out there.

  We’re surrounded.

  “That’s the way ye want to play it, is it?” Da has his staff out and starts cutting through intruders.

  “Damn.” Emmet dives out of the strike zone of a hobgoblin’s sword. “We need to fumigate. Our back lane is lousy with pests.”

  Birga sings in my hand, happy to taste blood. There’s not enough space to get our groove on, and we’re in full view of our neighbors. “Obscure Vision.”

  Hopefully, my privacy spell keeps Janine and Mark from noticing a bloody battle in the back.

  Bear roars near the back fence and rears up on his hind feet. Swinging his massive claws through the night, he minces and mulches with each swipe of his mighty paws.

  A solid strike to my shoulder sends me spinning, and I scowl. It doesn’t hurt. My armor is in place and working perfectly, but it does knock me for a loop. “Striking a lady is rude. You should be ashamed.”

  “Stealing from others is rude,” says the hobgoblin coming at me hard. “You should be punished.”

  I step back to absorb his next attack and deflect the blade of his short sword with my arm guard. With his sword pushed to the side and his core exposed, I bury Birga’s green marble spearhead into his belly. “Swipe left.”

  My opponent falls to the ground, and I spin to take on the next one. I catch sight of an asshole creeping up behind Sloan. He’s busy with two and facing the other direction.

  He doesn’t see the attack coming, and I won’t get there in time. Lifting Birga over my shoulder, I throw my spear the thirty feet to catch the third man in the back of his neck.

  The green Connemara speartip buries into the guy’s flesh and pierces his neck through to the front. He falls lifeless at Sloan’s back, and he twists. Seeing my handiwork, he goes back to his two and I collect my spear and back him up.

  When we polish off those two, we spin for the next incoming. Only, there is no one still standing.

  “Is that it? Are we done?”

  “Seems so.” Dillan wipes his dual blades clean on a dead guy’s shirt. “For now, at least.”

  I lower Birga and pull out my phone. My text to Garnet is short and sweet. His response is immediate.

  “Hello again, Lady Druid.” He materializes behind the back bumper of Dillan’s truck. “Had a bit of excitement tonight, did you?
”

  “Imagine our surprise.” I wipe the blood spatter on my face with the back of my sleeve and realize I’ve likely smeared one helluva mess across my face. “I thought you said you called off the Guild hit.”

  “Harsh. The Guild hardly put a hit out on you.”

  “Semantics. You put out an ‘it’s okay to annihilate them’ on us before asking us what happened, and before giving us the chance to prove we were making things right.”

  “Our experience with your family up until that point had been reports of rogue slaughter. A colleague of ours is dead.”

  “You mean the Skull Trim bastard who came at me the minute my powers were unlocked? The bastard who tied up my family, stabbed my brother, and intended to sacrifice me on a stone altar in front of thirty freaks in robes? Should I have played passive on that and let them have their way because they have more important friends in the community? Fuck that.”

  Garnet chuckles. “Point made.”

  “So, back to this attack. You said you called off the Vow of Vengeance.”

  “I did.”

  “So, what? These guys don’t respect the authority of the almighty Guild? That doesn’t instill confidence. Maybe you and your playmates aren’t all that after all.”

  Garnet’s purple eyes flash gold. “Careful, Lady Druid. If they were informed, they wouldn’t have attacked. There must’ve been a break in the chain of communication.”

  I roll my eyes. ”Are you honestly saying they didn’t get the memo?”

  Emmet snorts behind me. “That’s lame.”

  Garnet frowns, scans my family’s disbelieving faces, and the heaping mass of dead in my back lane. “I assure you, I’ll look into it.”

  As much as I want to flip him off, I have enough self-preservation to realize that having at least one person in a position of authority who doesn’t want to kill us is a good thing.

  “We would appreciate that. And what about the bodies? Do you want them? Do you need to identify them? How does the Guild handle an exposure scene like this?”

  Garnet waves toward the side lane and two men in a box truck turn in. “We’ll take care of this. You and your family are free to resume your evening.”

  Dillan stands tall and scans the back lane. When he gives us the nod that he senses nothing more out there, I relax and back away. “All right. Have yourselves a good night.”

  “You all as well.”

  When I wake the next morning, there is a massive bouquet of four dozen white tulips on my bedside table and Sloan sitting in the chair with his socked feet on my bed. He looks deep in thought, and I almost feel bad about asking him what the hell he’s doing. Almost.

  “Hello? Ever heard of boundaries? I was sleeping, and this isn’t the basement pullout.”

  Sloan’s smile is unrepentant. “You talk in your sleep, you know?”

  Oh, gawd. Yes, I know. My brothers have tormented me with things I’ve said my entire life. “What did I say? Dammit, broody, I can’t be held responsible for things my brain barfs out when I’m unconscious.”

  He chuckles. “Relax. Ye didn’t divulge anything salacious, although that would’ve been nice. Mostly ye gave yer brothers hell for one thing or another.”

  “Mostly?”

  His smile fades. “The other night, ye cried quite a bit. I popped in to check on ye after ye acted strangely at the pub. I wasn’t tryin’ to invade yer privacy. I worry.”

  I wave that off. “Calum mentioned that too. Sorry. It’s been years since I did that. It happened a lot after Mam died. I’m sure it’s because I’m missing Brenny and was panicked about all the changes in my life.”

  He points at the flowers. “These were on the doorstep this morning when yer father and Calum left for their shifts.”

  “Who are they from?”

  He stands and pulls the card from where it’s nestled in the sea of white petals. “Despite yer outburst to the contrary, I respect yer boundaries. I didn’t read yer card. However, tulips are symbolic of new beginnings and peace. White tulips signify a request for forgiveness. My guess would be Garnet Grant. Or Liam perhaps, if he’s still conflicted about upsetting ye earlier in the week.”

  I accept the card and rip it open. “Four dozen seems like overkill. Think of all the pretty tulips that gave their life to assuage manly guilt. I would’ve been fine with a bottle of Redbreast Whiskey with a happy-face Post-It on it.”

  Sloan chuckles. “Not my proudest moment.”

  “But one of my favorites. You should let loose more often. You and Calum had a good time, no one got hurt, and you came up with the answer to our problems. No fault. No foul.”

  I open the card, read it, and tuck it back into the envelope. “Right you are. Garnet Grant regrets Trent’s behavior and the attack on us last night, and how it might have tarnished our view of the Guild. He sends his sincere apologies.”

  Sloan nods. “As he should.”

  I lean back into my pillow and take in the view. I may not be hopping into Sloan’s bed, but he sure is nice to look at. “So, I guess now that the magic shortage is taken care of and s’all good here, you’re heading home?”

  He shifts to sit on the edge of my bed and points at the duffle on the floor. “I’m sure there are a dozen things Da and Lugh have waiting for me.”

  “Well, as always, I’m sad to see you go. But my loss is their gain. I’m sure everyone will be thrilled to have you back, especially Manx. You should bring him next time. I’m sure he and Bruin could get into trouble in the Don.”

  He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “And I want my animal companion to get into trouble, why?”

  I wave that away. “And hey, by leaving this morning, you’ll be home and ready to roll for the next heir drink night. Tons of craic, that group. I bet Tad’s less of a dick now that you’ve battled together, and I’m sure Ciara misses you.”

  Sloan tilts his head into my line of sight and his gaze narrows. “What are ye babbling on about? Ye know I have zero interest in Ciara. Or at least, ye should. I’ve made it clear enough.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was razzing you.”

  He shakes his head and takes my hand. “I’m headed home. I’ll work with Lugh and the Order in the capacity of my apprenticeship. I’ll help Da with his patients. And, I promised Manx I’ll make up the time I’ve missed with him when I get there. Nowhere in there is there any intention to cozy up with Ciara Doyle. Ye have nothin’ to worry about.”

  “Worried? I’m not worried. I was teasing.”

  He nods. “Och, I know. But as they say, there’s a little truth in every jibe.”

  I grip the quilt pooled around my waist and pick at a loose thread. “Sloan, I told you…”

  He catches my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’m not makin’ a play, Cumhaill. I’m simply sayin’ Ciara’s not the one for me. The girl I have my sights set on is going through a lot. She needs time to find her balance. I respect the hell outta that. No rush. No expectations. But she needs to know, while I may step back to give her the space to grow, I’m never far away. With one text, I’ll cross the ocean and be at her side. All she has to do is say the word.”

  I swallow, my bedroom suddenly feeling very small and warm. “And what’s the word the girl is supposed to say?”

  “Lady’s choice. Yes. Come. It’s time. S’all good. I need ye. I’m horny.” He shrugs. “I honestly don’t care what the word is. Someday, she’ll tell me it’s that day. She’ll look around and realize we’re a great team and she’s stronger with me at her side. When that day comes, things will truly start to get interesting.”

  “What if that doesn’t happen?”

  “It will. I have no doubt. However long it takes. Until then, we’ll keep pretending we’re only friends.”

  I pull in a deep breath and sigh. “We are only friends.”

  He winks, and his smile melts my heart. “Whatever ye say, Cumhaill. Stay safe. Text me when ye need me, ’cause we both know ye need me.”

  With that, Sloan kisses
my hand, picks up his duffle, and portals away.

  Cocky jerk.

  I chuckle and get out of bed.

  Super-sexy, cocky jerk.

  And yeah, Emmet’s right. With his wayfarer gift, he does kick ass on the dramatic exits.

  In an effort not to dwell on Sloan Mackenzie, I snatch up Garnet’s note and reread it. “Friday, noon. Lunch meeting with the Guild Governors. Business formal. A car will pick you up at 11:45.”

  Friday, eh? I suppose I can take time out of my busy schedule to make myself available.

  With images bouncing around inside my cranium of what a meeting with the Governors of the Lakeshore Guild of Empowered Ones might look like, I get out of bed and decide to spend a few hours with Myra at the bookshop.

  After that, I might swing by the Eaton Centre and shop for a Druid Lady power outfit. Ooo, I’ll find an emerald green blouse that sets off the red of my hair and black pants that hang loose in case I need to fight. I’ll pass on shoes and go with boots. Yeah, a good pair of black leather ass-kicking boots with buckles.

  Picturing the outfit in my head, I hustle to the bathroom to start my day. A lunch meeting with the Guild…

  I can’t wait to see the cyclone of chaos that stirs up.

  Thank you for reading – A Sacred Grove

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  Irish Translations

  Arragh – a guttural sound for when something bad happened

  Banjaxed – broken, ruined, completely obliterated

  Bogger – those who live in the boggy countryside

  Bollocks – a man’s testicles

  Bollix – thrown into disorder, bungled, messed up