A kryomage.
Ríkr dodged the counterattack with a sweep of his wings, grabbed the man’s sleeve with his talons, and yanked his arm backward, pulling him off balance.
I stomped the gas pedal. The truck peeled out, and I sped past Ríkr and the agent. Rubber squealed against pavement as I turned onto the main road, the flash of my familiar’s wings disappearing from my rearview mirror.
Gripping the steering wheel, I joined the heavy traffic heading west toward Vancouver. If I was being followed, I wanted the MPD to think I was fleeing to the big city.
My tension increased with each kilometer I drove, my heart drumming a slow but forceful beat against my ribs. I was nearly vibrating as I stopped the truck at the last traffic light before the Lougheed Highway. Just as I was debating whether to go back, I felt a brush of familiar fae power across my senses.
I cranked the window down, and a moment later, a white hawk zoomed into the truck and landed on the passenger seat. He ruffled his feathers, then shook his whole body, spraying water droplets and tiny ice crystals in every direction.
“Are you hurt?” I asked urgently.
Injured by a mere ice magician? Ríkr gave me a deeply displeased stare. I am insulted.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve recently been bashed by a bear fae and captured by a pixie. How should I know what you can handle?”
His offended air increased. A human’s magic is no challenge. My kin require more finesse.
“I see,” I murmured, though I didn’t really get it.
The traffic light changed, and I directed the truck onto the highway, driving west into Burnaby. There I turned north, met up with Highway 7A, and headed back east toward Coquitlam. Navigating my way through the town, the traffic dense with the evening rush hour, I headed not toward the rescue but toward Quarry Road.
Ten minutes later, I pulled the truck into the same small gravel parking lot where I’d called Pierce after my first visit to the crossroads.
Climbing out, I stretched the tension from my legs as I looked around. A few unfamiliar cars were parked nearby, but the lot was abandoned. Ríkr took off into the trees where he could keep watch.
I waited, my discomfort tightening into frustration.
“Where is he?” I muttered angrily. “He’s supposed to—”
My phone vibrated against my hip, and I snatched it out, expecting a message from a certain tardy druid—but the message wasn’t from him. It was a text from an unknown number.
This is the lead investigator on the Ghost’s bounty. I’m following up on your hotline tip. We need to chat.
My brow furrowed. He wanted to “chat”? That didn’t seem like the right word for an interrogation about a notorious rogue and his dead-or-alive bounty.
My phone pinged again and a second message appeared beneath the first.
BTW, saw you’re the primary suspect in a murder. That’s exciting.
Exciting?
A third ping.
I’ll be there ASAP. Don’t skip town, k?
Don’t skip town? Did he somehow know I was evading arrest at this very moment?
The soft energies of the forest rippled, and the serenade of songbirds quieted with the thump of approaching hooves. Tilliag appeared between two trees, his neck arched and a druid astride his back.
I shoved my phone into my pocket. “You’re late.”
The stallion pulled up beside me and Zak reached down. His arm clamped around me, and he hauled me up onto the horse. Before I could snarl a protest, Tilliag launched into a bouncy trot that had me scrambling to get my legs into position. Zak’s hands drew me back against him as I found my seat.
“Before you pull your knife on me,” he said into my ear, “I’m only late because I had to maneuver around the six bounty hunters who showed up at the rescue.”
So Laney hadn’t been bluffing.
“Why didn’t you leave sooner?” I demanded as Tilliag trotted onto the wide gravel path of Minnekhada Trail. “I warned you they might come.”
“I figured you’d prefer I not leave any evidence that I’d been in or around your home.” He pulled a small backpack off his shoulder—one I recognized as mine. “I also grabbed a few things for you. Food, water, change of clothes.”
I awkwardly pulled it on. “What about Dominique and Greta?”
“They left before the bounty team moved in. The MagiPol agents probably tricked them into leaving.”
A sick feeling gathered low in my gut. “We have to find Jason Brine and the killer fae. If we don’t …”
I’d never be able to go home.
“We will.” He reached around me to take handfuls of Tilliag’s mane. The fae equine pushed into a canter, his hooves thudding against the hard-packed gravel and trees flashing by as we raced toward the looming summit of Mount Burke.
Soon, we would be at the crossroads. And very soon, we would finally learn what sort of monster was stealing the hearts of fae and leaving so much death in its wake.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dappled shadows danced over us as Tilliag trotted along the dirt trail. The tireless stallion had cantered until the steepening slope had forced him to slow. He kept up the quick pace for another seven or eight kilometers, then slowed to a purposeful walk as the terrain grew rougher and roots and rocks cluttered the narrowing path.
I relaxed into the horse’s gait, trying to ignore Zak’s warm hand on my waist, his other hand resting casually on his thigh. He moved so seamlessly with his mount that I almost forgot he was there.
Almost.
My gaze lifted skyward, and I spotted a flash of white wings—Ríkr gliding on air currents above us. Humming a thoughtful note, I skimmed the dense forest, the air heavy with heat and pine scent—actual pine, not Zak’s soap.
It wasn’t until I’d shifted my vision to the fae demesne that I spotted them: two black wolves weaving through the trees on silent paws, their scarlet eyes occasionally glancing our way. That was three of Zak’s four fae accounted for. Where was Lallakai, the beautiful but deadly eagle?
I refocused on the earthly forest, the mists of the fae realm fading from my vision. “You have four familiars? Two vargs, Lallakai, and Tilliag?”
The stallion’s left ear flicked toward me as he listened in.
Zak adjusted his seat, his hand pressing into my hip for a moment. “Tilliag isn’t my familiar, not in the traditional sense. He promised me ninety-nine days of service as repayment for a debt.”
A temporary alliance? Interesting. “What about the vargs?”
“They’re familiars by the common definition.”
“Do you not like the common definition?”
“It’s a witch idea. Druid relationships with fae don’t fit into simple little boxes like ‘familiar’ and ‘not a familiar.’”
“How would you describe your relationship with the vargs, then?”
“Companions. They’ve been with me for over twelve years. The pack used to be five …” A pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was rougher. “But I lost three of them recently.”
“Lost them?”
“I made a stupid mistake, and they paid the price.”
Part of me was glad I couldn’t see his expression. I didn’t want to sympathize. “Do these two have names?”
“Why not ask them?”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“The larger one is Grenior. The smaller one is female, and her name is Keelar. You don’t interact with many fae aside from Ríkr, do you?”
“Not really.” I shifted my hips, wishing Zak weren’t so close behind me. The temptation to lean back into him wouldn’t go away. “I rarely see other fae, and they don’t approach me. Probably because they can tell I’m too weak to be useful.”
“Having weak spiritual power doesn’t make you useless. Ríkr would attest to that, or he wouldn’t have tied himself to you.”
I grunted in dubious agreement.
“How did he end up as your partner?”
“Taking your parole seriously, I see.”
“I’d been stuck in a concrete box for over two years. I was dying to run barefoot through a meadow and roll in wildflowers and shit.”
He coughed. “I can’t really picture that.”
“Next time I’m released from prison, I’ll invite you along.” I shifted my hips again. “Anyway. I ran into Ríkr that day. He followed me around for a few hours, being annoying, then just … never really left. When I met Arla the next day, she asked if he was my familiar and he said yes—just to shock her, I think. He gave me his familiar mark about a week later.”
Zak made a thoughtful noise. “That’s all? He took a liking to you?”
“Guess so. Whenever I ask why he sticks around, he says I make his life more interesting.”
A muffled snort.
“Shut up.”
“My life’s also been more interesting. Repeated threats, assaults—”
“Shut up,” I repeated in a growl. “What about you and Lallakai?”
“We go way back. I was fifteen when I first met her, but we didn’t form an official relationship until I was seventeen.”
“Official relationship?” I repeated. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“She’s—”
His mistress. Ríkr swept out of the trees in sparrow form and landed on an overhanging branch a few yards up the trail. And he is her obedient consort.
My eyebrows shot up. “Is that what it sounds like?”
Yes, Ríkr said promptly.
“No,” Zak snapped. “It isn’t.”
Really? Ríkr’s wings flashed as he took off, transforming back into a hawk in mid-flight. Does she not sup upon your vibrant druid power like a queen sampling the sweet favors of her handsome young lover? Is that not the price you pay for her protection?
Zak had gone rigid, and Tilliag flicked his ears in annoyance.
I waited for the druid to deny Ríkr’s assessment, but he said nothing. Perhaps he couldn’t deny it. Druids, like witches, had no offensive or defensive magic—not inherently. We relied on magical gifts, favors, and protection from benevolent fae instead. If Lallakai was protecting him, she would require payment, and what better to demand than free rein to consume the alluring spiritual energy the druid exuded?
Tilliag gave his hindquarters a rough bounce, jolting Zak out of his rigid stance. He slid into my back, then righted himself, muttering under his breath.
Both his hands were on my waist now.
“Where are you from?” I asked abruptly, searching for something else to focus on.
“I used to live north of Vancouver.”
That wasn’t quite what I’d meant, but his phrasing distracted me. “Used to? Where do you live now?”
“Wherever I want.”
His unfriendly tone didn’t stop me. “Does that mean everything you own is in your backpack? Is that why you wanted to use my laundry?”
“I’m into minimalistic living.”
“Funny. Why don’t you have a home?”
“I’ll spill the whole tragic tale of my past if you spill yours first.”
That was a hard pass on my end. “One question, then.”
“What?”
“You are going to leave when this is all over, right?”
“Thanks for the sympathy,” he said sarcastically.
“You don’t want sympathy.”
He was silent for several moments. “No, I don’t. I want to go back and kill the person who took away my home.”
His home had been taken? “Why don’t you?”
“I should have said, ‘Kill them again.’”
“Oh.” I hummed a few notes. “Did it help?”
“What?”
“Killing them.”
“Yes and no.”
When he said nothing more, I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow.
He grunted. “Do you really want to hear how I murdered someone? Most people find the topic uncomfortable.”
“I’m a murderer too, remember?”
“Not the same kind.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve killed many times.” His voice roughened again. “So many times I’ve lost count. People who deserved it. People who probably didn’t deserve it. Sometimes I tortured them before I killed them. The blood on my hands will never wash clean, and it’s been a long time since I cared.”
I listened to the thud of Tilliag’s hooves. “I never regretted it. The person I killed. I only regretted getting caught. I’m more careful now.”
“More careful? Have you been killing farmers and burying them in the pigsty?”
“Not killing them, but I like making them bleed.” I hummed softly. “Before Harvey Whitby, the last animal abuser to cross my path I put in the hospital. The two before him I bankrupted. I blackmailed another into selling his farm and moving. The one before that I framed for extortion. He’s in jail. Oh,” I added, “and there were the teen boys who tortured a cat. They’re all missing a finger so they’ll never forget what I did to them.”
Zak swore quietly. “You managed all that without getting caught? While being closely monitored by your coven and the MPD?”
I shrugged.
“All right.” He exhaled. “I’ll admit it. You’re a bit scary.”
I didn’t realize I’d laughed until I felt him tense with surprise.
After a moment, he murmured, “When I come across sick bastards who abuse fae or hurt kids, I just kill them.”
A strange feeling tightened my gut. “I thought you were a kidnapper.”
“In the strictly legal sense, I am. But I couldn’t just leave those kids for the next trafficker to pick up, and I don’t care what the MPD accuses me of. They’ve never been worried about the accuracy of the charges.”
“You …” My mouth bobbed open. “You were saving kids?”
Amusement threaded his raspy voice. “If you’d rather think of me as a child-napping, fae-whoring rogue, feel free.”
I snapped my mouth shut, reeling on the inside “Whatever. Just know that if you ever betray me, I’ll slit your throat.”
“Noted.”
The evening sunlight sparkled on the waters of Dennett Lake. My thighs and calves ached from overuse, and I was glad when Zak decided to take a short break before continuing on to the bushwhacking portion of our trek. I’d done a lot of riding, but no horse could maintain a grueling pace like Tilliag could.
With wobbly knees, I veered toward a fallen log by the trail’s edge. The picnic areas with weathered wooden tables and rusted firepits were abandoned, and a busy chipmunk searched beneath them for forgotten crumbs.
I dropped onto the log, its bark worn smooth by hundreds of hikers using it as a bench. Slinging my small pack off my shoulders, I dropped it at my feet and dug out a bottle of water. While Zak retrieved water from his own backpack, I downed half the bottle, then poured some on my face. The cool liquid rushed over my cheeks and off my chin, splattering my shirt.
It was too hot and humid for this shit. No wonder we were the only idiots out here.
As I investigated the bag’s contents to see what else Zak had grabbed for me, he gazed toward the lake. His focus moved up to the summit, and he turned in a slow circle as though to pinpoint a distant sound he could barely detect.
“Do you sense that?” he murmured.
I squinted, searching for anything out of the ordinary. “Sense what?”
His frown deepened. He peered down at me for a second, seeming to debate something, then grabbed a handful of Tilliag’s mane and pulled himself onto the stallion’s back.
“What are you doing?” I asked sharply.
“Something is off, but I don’t know w
hat. I need to stay focused, and you’re a distraction.”
I shot to my feet. “You are not going without m—”
He turned Tilliag westward. “Last time you set foot in the crossroads, you got separated from your familiar and almost walked into a kelpie’s jaws. Just wait here. I’ll be back in an hour or two, hopefully with answers.”
“Zak—”
Tilliag launched into a trot. I ran after the stallion, spitting with fury.
“Why did you even bring me out here?” I yelled.
“Just trying to keep us both alive,” he called as Tilliag broke into a fast canter. “Try not to stab me when I get back.”
“I’ll stab you in the heart, you piece of shit!” I screamed pointlessly as the stallion and his rider cantered the length of the lake and disappeared into the forest at the far side, cutting toward Summit Trail.
“Bastard,” I snarled. “Ríkr! Follow him!”
With a sweep of hawk wings, my familiar landed on a nearby boulder. I regret I must decline.
“What? Why?”
The druid is not alone in sensing a malevolent power that was not present here before. His blue eyes scoured the summit. Fae the likes of which you do not know skulk in the tides of the crossroads’ magic. The danger is great.
“I can handle myself.”
He clicked his beak. Still, I would not abandon you for a better reason than spying upon the druid.
Spinning on my heel, I marched back to my bag, zipped it up, and slung it over one shoulder. If Zak wouldn’t take me to the crossroads, I’d go myself. It wasn’t like I didn’t know the way.
I strode away from the log.
Would you care to hear a riddle? Ríkr asked from his boulder. What shape does a druid upon his horse make when chased by a witch upon her feet?
“Shut up, Ríkr.”
Circles, he informed me. He will ride there and back before you can catch him, dove.
My angry steps slowed. “That bastard left me behind.”
He did, so save your strength so you might maim him upon his return. His tone softened. We are safer here, and he will be more efficient without a ward to guard.
The One and Only Crystal Druid (The Guild Codex: Unveiled Book 1) Page 17
