The One and Only Crystal Druid (The Guild Codex: Unveiled Book 1)

by Annette Marie

  I stiffened, but she was already leaning back. Her hand slid down my arm in a caressing touch, and she entwined our fingers. As the world dissolved into deeper mist and shadows, she pulled me into a leisurely walk.

  The coven and the house had disappeared. My shoes made no sound on the gravel drive; I couldn’t see my own feet, eddies of mist hiding everything below my knees.

  As we walked into the shadows of the trees, they grew solid again—but not like I had ever seen trees before. Their bark shone iridescently, as though dusted with fairy powder, and their leaves, electric green with bluish undersides, glimmered and winked as a faint breeze teased them.

  I wasn’t merely looking into the fae demesne. I was walking in it.

  The beautiful fae woman led me deeper into the trees, then halted and again faced me. Still holding my hand in hers, she reached up with the other to touch my cheek, her finger tipped with a curved black talon.

  “This should be far enough. You may escape under your power from this point.” Her talon pricked the underside of my jaw as she tipped my face up. “Though I would find it more entertaining to slit your pretty throat instead.”

  My switchblade was still clenched in my hand, but I didn’t raise it. “Then why did you help me?”

  She leaned in again, bringing her face obscenely close. Her mouth touched mine, but I held my ground, not giving her the satisfaction of recoiling.

  “My druid bid me to find you after reading your message. He suspected you would be in danger.” Her wet tongue brushed over my lower lip. “Your power is sweet, little witch, despite the pitiably scant amount you possess.”

  With a flash of white wings, Ríkr landed on my shoulder. Taste her again, vulture, and I will shatter your flesh into a thousand shards.

  His voice rolled through my mind in a savage, frozen snarl that sent a shiver across my skin. In the white mist of the fae realm, swirls of pale blue light radiated from his feathers.

  The female fae laughed softly. She pulled her hand away from my throat, and I felt a sharp sting. A drop of my blood clung to her talon, and her pink tongue appeared, licking it away. Then she released my other hand.

  Sunlight plunged through the mist-shrouded trees, evaporating the haze. The heavy weight of my body returned in a rush and my ears popped, sound filling them as the bizarre hush of the fae demesne lifted. I swayed dizzily, taking in the solid trunks of old pine trees around me.

  The Lady of Shadow was gone, leaving the soft scent of night-cool wildflowers behind.

  I turned with careful steps, Ríkr perched on my shoulder. The glow of the evening sun lit Laney’s house, fifty yards away. Voices drifted to my ears, raised, emphatic. Laney’s piercing shout erupted, the words unintelligible.

  Zak’s eagle familiar had pulled me into the fae demesne, out of reach of humans or witches, and led me into the trees where I could escape without being seen. It was similar to how Tilliag could disappear with Zak, but I doubted the fae stallion took his rider as far from human reality as the Lady of Shadow had taken me.

  I couldn’t see my sturdy old truck through the foliage, but that didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be reclaiming it. At least I’d taken my lockpicks, the only condemning item in it, with me. I was done with the vehicle—and I was done with my coven.

  Turning on my heel, I headed deeper into the woods.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lallakai.

  According to Ríkr, that was the fae woman’s name. She was also known as the Night Eagle and Lady of Shadow. An old, powerful fae, and one I didn’t need threatening to slit my throat.

  Deep shadows lurked in the forest as I cut cross-country toward home, navigating by the evening sunlight streaking through the forest canopy. Ríkr, now in ferret form, rode on my shoulder.

  I apologize, dove, he murmured. I was careless, and the pixie surprised me.

  “Not your fault.” If there was blame to assign, it was mine.

  As I walked, I watched my hands swing in and out of my peripheral vision. These hands. Was there anything they wouldn’t do? If Lallakai hadn’t come, would I have killed Ellen’s familiar? Would I have hurt or killed my fellow witches?

  I half closed my eyes, searching my emotions for … something. But all I could feel were the broken pieces inside me grinding, grinding, grinding. I wanted to go back. I wanted to hurt Laney for turning the coven against me and I wanted to hurt the rest of them for believing her.

  Even though their accusations and suspicions were logical, and I’d done nothing to change their minds, I still wanted to hurt them.

  I was so fucked up.

  Moisture clung to my eyelashes. Why couldn’t I be normal? I tried to fit in. I tried so damn hard.

  Golden light bloomed as I stepped out of the dense woods and into Hearts & Hooves’ orchard.

  Wait here, dove, Ríkr told me as he transformed into a speedy white starling. I will check for unwelcome visitors.

  He zoomed away, and I waited obediently, my lower lip caught between my teeth. Had Laney told MagiPol that I’d broken into her house and attacked the coven? Or did she not want the agents knowing she’d attacked me first? Did she want a chance to condemn me herself before I was arrested and whisked out of her reach? How important was my confession of guilt to her?

  As long as Ríkr deemed it safe, I wanted to maintain my usual routine. However guilty I might look to Laney and MagiPol, I was innocent. The best thing I could do for myself right now was act like an innocent person. Suspicious behavior would only work against me.

  You may come, Ríkr called to me from somewhere near the house. Only Dominique and Greta are here.

  I hastened between apple trees, my gaze dragging across the house on the far side of the yard. Dominique and Greta had saved food for me, but I couldn’t go in there right now. Not in this kind of mood.

  Swerving, I strode to the rear of the stable and up to my apartment. It took me a few minutes to freshen up and change, then I was jogging back down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt several sizes too large, with my hair roughly tied in a high ponytail. Ríkr, perched on the stable’s roof, watched me head toward the fields.

  An hour later, I was lying on my back in the far pasture, cool grass beneath me and the sun hanging low in the west.

  Houdini the goat was lying beside me, vapidly chewing a mouthful of grass. Two more goats wandered nearby, and Fluffball the sheep was nosing at my boot. Hippy and Funko, our rescued racehorses, were grazing off to my left.

  A butterscotch-brown muzzle appeared above me, blocking my view of the sky. Pip, a sorrel draft horse, snuffled at my bangs, wondering why the silly human was lying on the ground. I rubbed his nose, then closed my eyes. The animals’ energies drifted around me, calm and peaceful as they entwined with the softer energy of the pasture. I might be weak and incompetent, but nature and its creatures calmed me as much as any other witch.

  Pip ruffled my bangs, then lipped at my nose. Eyes still closed, I gently pushed his head away. “If you bite my nose, we’re gonna have words, Pip.”

  He blew hot, stinky grass breath over my face, then his shadow moved away. I heard his hoof scraping at the ground, followed by a grunt and a thump. Opening my eyes, I tilted my head back to see him. He was rolling enthusiastically in the grass. Well, if the human was doing it, why not him?

  I patted Houdini’s side and relaxed again. Once you earned an animal’s trust, it was yours until you betrayed it. Often, it was yours even long after you’d betrayed it—and that was why I loathed animal abusers so deeply.

  This place was my haven. I couldn’t let Laney and the MPD take it away from me. Somehow, I had to keep hold of it.

  The setting sun was staining the scattered clouds pink and gold by the time I felt centered again. As I sat up, the animals lingering around me stiffened with alertness, all looking in the same direction—toward the forested mountain to the north.

  A dark horse and rider cantered toward the pasture fence. The stallion jumped the barrie
r in an easy bound, then stretched into a pounding gallop toward me. The rescue animals scattered, but I glimpsed the shape of a white bird in a distant tree—Ríkr keeping watch.

  I pushed to my feet, brushed the grass off my jeans, and straightened my shirt, which was hanging off one shoulder.

  Tilliag slowed his headlong gallop, then thundered to a halt a few feet away. His rider, still in a sleeveless shirt that displayed his muscular arms, looked down at me with vividly green, human eyes, his backpack hanging off his broad shoulders.

  “Are you okay?” he asked sharply.

  I gazed up at the druid. “I’m fine.”

  “You were on the ground.”

  “Yeah. Relaxing. I do that once in a while.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Lallakai said she found you in trouble with your coven.”

  “I didn’t need help.”

  “That’s not what she said.” He gave his head a slight shake. “What did you find out about the palomino’s death?”

  My serene—sort of serene—mood soured. “I’ll tell you back at my place. I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

  The lunch he’d brought me. It seemed like days ago, not hours.

  I started walking toward the distant orchard that concealed the farmstead. Tilliag’s hooves thumped up behind me, then beside me—then an arm looped around my back and hauled me into the air.

  I swore furiously as Zak pulled me onto the stallion in front of him.

  “Get your leg over,” he told me, holding my back against his chest.

  I swung my leg over Tilliag’s neck so I was straddling the horse properly. The view of the stallion was quite different from his back, and my stomach dropped when his ears swiveled toward me and his neck arched.

  “Tilliag,” Zak began warningly.

  The stallion’s muscles tensed, and he reared.

  Zak released my waist as he pitched backward—letting go so he didn’t drag me off with him. Clutching a double handful of mane, I scarcely noticed him slide off Tilliag’s rump, my legs clamped around the horse’s sides.

  His front hooves slammed into the ground and his head dropped. I leaned back sharply as he kicked out with his back legs, trying to throw me—and when that failed, he launched into a full-blown rodeo routine. Rearing, plunging, bucking, he spun in circles, and I hung on through sheer stubbornness—but with each violent lurch, I lost my balance a bit more.

  “Asshole!” I yelled as the stallion reared so high his body was vertical. My weakening grip gave out and I fell. Landing on my feet with my arms windmilling, I stumbled backward and fell on my ass.

  Zak hastened in my direction, but I shoved to my feet before he could reach me, breathing hard and glowering at the fae horse.

  Acid-green eyes studied me calmly, then the stallion turned, presenting his side.

  “Tilliag,” Zak growled.

  She may ride me. The fae’s rough voice scraped inside my head, his tone decisive.

  Oh, so I’d passed his little test, had I? How nice.

  His ear turned to me, and I could read the small gesture so easily. He was wondering if I was too chicken to get back on him now.

  I surged toward the stallion, grabbed his mane, and launched myself up. He was so damn big that I ended up sprawled on his back before straightening myself out. Settling into place, I gripped his mane and glared ferociously at his ears.

  “She’s right.” Zak appeared at my knee. “You’re an asshole, Tilliag.”

  I wished to know if she was worthy.

  “You’ve carried passengers for me before without bucking them off.”

  She is different.

  Zak cursed under his breath, then swung up onto the horse with a lot more grace than I’d managed. His warmth pressed against my back as he reached around me to grip Tilliag’s mane—the only handhold. “Let’s go.”

  Neither he nor the horse apologized for the impromptu rodeo, but I hadn’t expected them to.

  Tilliag went straight into a bouncy trot, then pushed into a rolling canter. As a cool wind rushed over me, my temper slipped away. I rocked with the stallion’s smooth gait, his run effortless, strength flowing through his powerful body. I’d ridden more horses than I could count, and none had ever felt like this. Power, grace, and an absolute freedom that came from the complete lack of control I had.

  We were halfway across the pasture before my overwhelmed senses remembered Zak. He was pressed against my back, arms on either side of me, and he moved with his mount and with me. The three of us were in perfect harmony, and as the fence between the pasture and yard rushed toward us, I instinctively leaned forward and braced my legs. Tilliag jumped it easily, his hooves clattering on the gravel on the other side.

  He slowed to a walk, and as the exhilaration of our short ride quieted, I let out a long, soft sigh. The stallion stopped.

  I didn’t know what made me do it, but I leaned back—leaning into Zak, my entire body relaxing, my head resting against his shoulder. I closed my eyes, breathing Tilliag’s equine musk and the druid’s pine scent.

  Why did this feel so good?

  Zak’s legs flexed, subtle guidance for his mount, and Tilliag moved into an easy walk. I didn’t shift, slumped against the druid, hips swiveling with the horse’s steps. Gravel crunched, then Tilliag halted again. I opened my eyes to find him standing a few yards away from the stable’s rear door.

  Zak swung off the stallion’s back, dropping to the ground. I lay a hand against Tilliag’s powerful neck. Thanking fae was always risky; some took it as an admission of debt.

  That was a magnificent ride, I said instead, hoping only the fae would hear my silent words and not the druid.

  Tilliag’s ear slanted toward me, but he didn’t reply. I slid off his back, and pain twinged through my thigh where Ellen’s hob had nearly crushed my leg. Tilliag tossed his head, then trotted away, leaving his two riders where they stood. He disappeared in the direction of the fruit orchard.

  Shaking off my strange mood, I patted my pockets for my keys. My fingers pressed against the shape of my switchblade.

  “So?” Zak rumbled from behind me.

  I pulled my keys out of my other pocket.

  “The palomino’s death,” he prompted. “You said you found out how it died. And what happened with your coven earlier?”

  Had Lallakai told him about Laney’s “witch trial”? Inserting my key in the lock, I shot an icy look over my shoulder. “The second one is my business.”

  His eyes narrowed. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

  I went rigid as his words triggered a visceral surge of emotion that hit me in the chest like a runaway draft horse. I was suddenly, inexplicably vibrating with rage, grief, and a sickening terror—and I had no idea why.

  “You should have waited for me,” he continued. “Instead, you … what’s wrong?”

  My chest heaved as I struggled to contain the emotional onslaught. “We’re not in anything together.”

  “What?”

  Leaving my key in the lock, I pivoted to face him, my fingernails biting into my palms. I didn’t understand why I was choking on rage right now, but neither could I turn off the emotions that had me in their grip.

  His mouth thinned. “Did I imagine that conversation where we agreed to pool information to stop the killer slaughtering animals and fae all across the mountainside?”

  “That doesn’t make us partners or some shit,” I spat, my clenched hands shaking.

  “When did I say that? We’re working together for a mutual goal, not getting engaged.” He raked his hand through his hair. “But going to the coven leader’s place alone was stupid. You should have—”

  Surging toward him, I grabbed the front of his shirt. “I don’t answer to you! I can do whatever the hell I—”

  He grabbed my wrist, ripping my hand off his shirt—then shoved me back into the stable wall.

  My switchblade was in my hand in the next instant. The blade snapped out and I pressed its edge to
his throat, my teeth bared.

  A sharp prick against my side. I hadn’t seen him draw his knife, but I didn’t doubt the feel of it just below my ribs.

  He bared his teeth too, his face inches away. “So we’re back to this, then?”

  “This is more fun,” I retorted viciously.

  His eyes darkened, pupils dilating. His warm weight pressed into me, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “Do you get off on near-death experiences?”

  “I get off on giving other people near-death experiences.”

  “I can’t decide if you’re a hell of a bluffer or actually a scary, bloodthirsty savage.”

  My voice went husky. “You think I’m scary?”

  “Not if you’re bluffing.”

  I tilted my face up, pushing into him. Pain stung my side as I leaned into his knife. “I don’t bluff.”

  “No?” he rasped. “Are you going to slit my throat?”

  “If you piss me off any more”—I twitched the knife against the soft skin under his jaw, making sure he felt it—“I might.”

  His warm breath teased my lips. Our faces were too close.

  “Everything pisses you off.” His voice rumbled from his chest to mine. We were both breathing a bit too hard, a bit too fast. His eyes filled my vision. Intense, unafraid. Challenging.

  Hungry.

  My lips parted.

  My knife was at his throat, but he leaned down anyway, closing the scant buffer space between us.

  Then his mouth was crushing mine.

  My head thumped against the wall as he kissed me hard. I gasped, my nerves lighting up with adrenaline that drowned the emotional storm inside me. His hot tongue met mine. Kissing me even harder. Even deeper. A shudder ran through me—and I bit down on his tongue.

  He jerked away with a curse. Our eyes met.

  I grabbed the back of his head and yanked his face down again. As his mouth covered mine, he drove me into the wall. Our lips moved urgently, hands grabbing at each other, and heat pierced me like knives, plunging through my core and gathering between my thighs.

  His fingers dug into my upper arms. He had both hands on me. Where was his knife? I didn’t know.