The Druid's Guise: The Complete Trilogy (The Druid's Guise Trilogy)

by Michael J Sanford

  “Well, that’s quite a welcoming,” Ms. Abagail said as Wyatt stooped to pick up the bear.

  A piece of paper was taped to the back of the stuffed toy. It contained a single word, written in blue crayon.

  “HI,” Wyatt read, offering Ms. Abagail a view of the note.

  She shrugged. “Seems you already made a friend. See? It’s not so bad.”

  He tucked the bear under his arm and picked up his trash bag of belongings. “Well, I guess we better get me inside before anything else rains on us.”

  Ms. Abagail nodded and led the way up the cracked stone steps, toward the carved oaken doors. She tugged open the right one and looked back to Wyatt.

  “Well, come on,” she said. “Don’t be clamming up on me now.”

  Wyatt heard the words, but they sounded distant, like a dream. Or a nightmare. All sensation in his body faded as well as he stared at the doors in horror. A crowded forest was carved into the left door and jagged snow-covered mountains covered the right. Just like the Temple of the Mother in Ouranos. The one he had brought down, along with a large portion of the castle. And so many innocent lives.

  “No,” he heard a voice say. He thought it was his own—he had intended to speak—but he couldn’t be sure. “No, no, no. I can’t go in there,” the voice continued.

  Someone else spoke, but the words were unintelligible. All he could hear now were the cries of those he buried. All he could feel was the hurt of losing his friends. He had condemned them to die. He hadn’t been strong enough to stop the Regency from taking Rozen and he hadn’t had the control to protect Ouranos or its people.

  The doors came into focus again while the rest of the world faded further into fog. A cold wind blew from the open portal and brought him to his knees. And then they came.

  From the crack in the door they slithered. Like inky pools of hate, they slid down the steps toward him and formed into some sinister semblance of human beings. Just a short step from where he cowered, the blackness collected and solidified into two pillars of reproachful condemnation. They didn’t need to speak. Wyatt knew what they wanted. He knew what they were. And he knew why they came for him. He had failed them just as he had the others. Just as he failed everyone he foolishly thought he could save. Ethereal arms lifted, and spectral fingers pointed.

  “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t want any of this,” he shouted. Then, with a surge of desperation, he regained control of his body, and ran. As fast as he could, leaving behind a trail of tears, he ran.

  Chapter Fifteen

  HALFWAY TO THE trees, Wyatt ran out of his shoes. But the need to escape outweighed the pain that bit through his worn socks and he cleared the ornamental fence at the property line with far more ease than he could ever do again. And he kept running.

  Trees became a blur and his breath the deep chug of a runaway train. He could feel himself falling off the proverbial tracks, ducking, leaping, and spinning in an effort to put as much distance between the doors and himself as quickly as he could. They were already dead. Mareck, Gareck, Grenleck. And she was already gone. Rozen. There was nothing left for him there. He wouldn’t go through those doors again.

  Shadows abounded in the pine forest, and Wyatt expected each one to reach out and end his life. That was what they wanted after all. Wasn’t it? He had been so sure a few moments before, but now…he shook his head, grit his teeth, and continued running.

  “WHY!”

  Wyatt stumbled at the shout and nearly fell.

  “Leave me alone!” he bellowed, spinning in place.

  “WHY, WHY?”

  Behind him. He whirled, and this time, he did fall. He didn’t have time to react before they were upon him. The shadows. Death and shadows. You couldn’t have one without the other. He didn’t have the breath to yell or the strength to fight.

  “WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?”

  He threw a blind punch and managed to roll onto his stomach. In another moment, he curled his knees beneath him. But he wasn’t strong enough to stand. He was never strong enough. That realization seized him and sent a current though him that brought with it a fearsome rage. He was standing before he knew he had moved, and he spun a staff in front of him that he hadn’t known he had.

  “Well, let’s have it, then! Show yourself!”

  But they didn’t. In fact, the trees of the forest had hidden themselves as well. That can’t be, he thought. He snarled and spun about, swinging his weapon before him. It struck something solid and glass broke. The sharp snap of it fractured his wild state and the darkness at the edges of his eyes receded. His heart slowed and his breathing calmed.

  “Oh, that’s a nasty bit of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, now isn’t it, dear?”

  Wyatt turned from the broken window, looking for the voice. Looking for something to make sense of the fact that he now stood on the inside of Greenwood Hospital, and somewhere near the top floor if the view from the broken window was any indication. He looked down at the curtain rod in his hands and, with great effort, forced his hands to loosen from the wood and set it on the ground.

  A small girl, dressed in a spotted blue dress, stared back at him, hands pressed into her hips, and a scowl fixing Wyatt in place.

  “Now, why’d you go and break that bit of windowpane?” she said, sounding much older than she looked—and Wyatt guessed she couldn’t be more than ten.

  “I…I didn’t,” he said slowly, still grappling with what had happened. Was it my amulet? He hadn’t felt or seen it awaken, but what other explanation could there be?

  The girl wagged a finger, and her scowl deepened. “Now, just what do you take me for? I am no fool, of that I assure you, young man. I stood right here and watched you break that window. And I won’t have Julia blamed for it. Lord knows she needs no help getting into trouble on her own.”

  Wyatt gave one last glance at the broken window before dismissing the strangeness of the last few minutes. At least he was safe, it seemed. He couldn’t help but eye each corner of the dusty room for any particularly human looking shadows before he turned to address the lone girl.

  “Julia? Is that your name?”

  The girl grunted and swiped at the air. “Do I look like Julia? No, don’t answer that. I couldn’t bare the indignation of such a comparison.”

  “Oh…” he said, thoroughly confused by the small girl’s mannerisms and speech. But then he remembered where he was. “Oh, you’re crazy. I get it.”

  The girl’s eyes sparked to life and something wicked came alive in the swirls of green and brown. She closed the short distance between them before Wyatt could react. She spun tightly around him, kicked the back of his knee, and sent him sprawling with a backhand to the side of his neck. He hit the ground with a grunt and tried to roll upright, but the girl was already atop him, straddling him backwards, tiny knees pinched into his ribs with surreal strength. Then she did the unthinkable. She spanked him.

  He thrashed at the first strike, not sure what he was experiencing was real. Then she struck him again. Repeatedly she lashed at his backside, her hands whistling in the still air, and stinging like giant wasps. He echoed each slap with a cry of protest, but no matter how he yelled or how he screamed, the small girl held him firmly pinned beneath her diminutive body, and lashed him until his entire lower body was numb.

  “Julia!” bellowed a voice from the doorway.

  “Wyatt?” shouted a second and more familiar one.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Wyatt shouted into the floor. “Ms. Abagail, help me.”

  He twisted his head to see Ms. Abagail walk into the room accompanied by an older woman dressed in a snug white blouse and pressed slacks. Her gray hair was pulled back into a bun tight enough to erase any wrinkle that may have thought to encroach on her face.

  The woman stomped her foot. “Julia, get off Wyatt this instance.”

  “If you continue to call me by that name, I’ll have no choice to discipline you just the same,” the girl atop Wyatt retorted. “Just
a few more whacks should set this one straight. Then I’ll see to you.”

  Wyatt wiggled and turned to look up at Ms. Abagail. The young woman stood stock still, her eyes wide, a finger twisting her shock of pink hair. He turned his attention to the older woman—presumably a staff member of the hospital—for what Ms. Abagail was clearly incapable of offering him. The woman gritted her teeth and let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Mrs. Devereux,” she said slowly. “If you wouldn’t mind releasing Wyatt, I’ll be sure to reprimand him as need be. You shouldn’t trouble yourself with him; he’s new here, after all.”

  Immediately, the pressure on his back released. He rolled away and scrambled to his knees, shuffling further away from the small girl, who now stood defiantly in front of the older woman.

  “Thank you,” the woman said, not backing down. “Now, you best be getting downstairs. This area is off limits, even for you, I’m afraid.”

  The girl waved a dismissive hand as she stalked toward the door. “Of course, of course. I’m sure there is plenty more of your job that needs doing with the others and Lord knows you won’t do it, so off I go.”

  When she had gone, Wyatt rose shakily to his feet. It was impossible to stand up straight after what the girl had done to his posterior, so he settled on leaning against a dusty bureau.

  “I am so sorry for this,” Ms. Abagail sputtered. “I don’t know how he got away from me like that.”

  The older woman ignored her and approached Wyatt. She stared into Wyatt’s eyes for several long moments, as if daring him to move, before she spoke. “I’m to understand that you are our new charge.”

  “Wyatt,” he said, with a goofy grin that faded into a grimace as feeling returned to his lower body, bringing with it the pain.

  She grunted. “Patients are not allowed on the upper levels. They are strictly off limits. I bid you follow me back to the intake office so that we might begin your transition into Greenwood. And I trust we’ll have no further run-offs, or the penalties will be quite severe, I assure you.”

  Wyatt swallowed hard and nodded. “It wasn’t my fault. You see—”

  The woman snapped a finger a hairbreadth from the tip of his nose. “I’ll have no excuses and no back talk, young man. Understand?”

  He nodded again and glanced at Ms. Abagail. He had never seen her stand so straight. And she didn’t even have an energy drink or cell phone in either hand. The woman pointed at the door. Wyatt shook out his legs, made sure he could walk without falling, and proceeded as instructed.

  “And don’t think you won’t be working off the damage done to the window here,” the woman added as he reached the threshold.

  “But it wasn’t—”

  Another snap silenced him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  FOR EVERY BIT that the outer facade of Greenwood was—as Ms. Abagail had said—spooky, the interior was not. Below the musty upper floors, Greenwood Hospital felt like just that—a hospital. Everything was white and tiled. It smelled like chemicals one wouldn’t want to touch directly, and the lights were bright to the point of headache-inducing.

  Wyatt’s new room was just as clinical, but it was clear the staff did their best to disguise it. A hand-sewn quilt covered a plain bed and a mural of prancing children covered the entirety of one cinder-block wall. There was a wooden chair and desk, and both pieces of furniture had curiously round and padded corners. A moderate window gave a breathtaking view of the surrounding forest, though it was difficult to see past the bars and mesh that made it more of a wall than a window. And the door was thick plate metal with a heavy locking mechanism that thunked when the older woman—Nurse Bonnie, as he learned—swiped her ID badge through the card reader on the wall in the hallway. It thunked again as she shut Ms. Abagail and Wyatt inside. After what he had done in Ouranos, it was fitting that he be locked in a cell.

  “I brought your things up when we were looking for you.” Ms. Abagail nodded at the tied garbage bag at the foot of the bed. The worn teddy bear sat atop it. Wyatt must have dropped it at some point, but the morning was growing fuzzier each time he tried to recall what had happened. The only thing that was certain was that the shadows would never leave him.

  Wyatt scooped up the disheveled toy and read the one-word note again. “You think Julia wants this back?” he asked. “If that is her name?”

  Ms. Abagail looked over her shoulder at the locked door as if she expected the wild girl to kick it in at any moment. Turning back, she said, “Maybe she wants to be friends. It’d be good to make friends here. It’ll make the time go by faster. And it might give you some perspective.”

  Wyatt sighed and walked to the window. He didn’t need perspective. He needed a way to control his amulet. He needed to find a way to stay in the Realms, where he belonged. And, most of all, he needed to discover how to rid himself of the shadows that taunted him with growing familiarity.

  Beyond the window, the pine forest stretched to the horizon. It was all he could see, and it only served as a reminder of his most recent failure. “I left a forest just like this,” he said after a few moments.

  “Oh?” Ms. Abagail joined him at the window and peered into the same gloom that captivated Wyatt.

  “Yeah. And from up here it looks like were standing between realms. Right on the edge. Feels like I’m right back where I was before. Like I haven’t moved.”

  Ms. Abagail leaned against the window and turned back to the room that was not unlike the one he had left at The Shepherd’s Crook. “Yeah, I get what you mean. Moving into another place so soon. But it’ll just be for a short time. And I’ll visit. Don’t worry.” She caught Wyatt’s gaze and smiled. The pink streak in her hair burned bright under the fluorescent lights, nearly glowing.

  “I’m not worried. I have this.” He drew out his amulet and thrust it into her face. “And why?”

  “Why what?”

  He tucked the amulet away and returned to watching the forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of spriteling wings or a plume of bright red hair. “Why visit me? That’s not your job. Not anymore.”

  In his periphery, he saw her shrug. “Someone’s got to. And besides, Mr. Gerald said it was okay to spend a couple hours of my shift each week coming here. So, I’m being paid for it.” She leaned further into his line of sight and grinned.

  Wyatt frowned at that. He had never known her to lie, but he also knew Mr. Gerald would never allow what she was suggesting. The giant man could hardly restrain his joy as Wyatt climbed into the van to leave. And Wyatt was fairly certain he heard a cheer as they drove away. That meant that Ms. Abagail was doing it on her own time. Which led back to his original question.

  “You don’t need to baby me,” he said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I must point out that you’re moving in the wrong direction as far as the system is concerned.”

  “I don’t care. The system here doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, come on, Wyatt. I know you don’t want to have to live in places like this or the Crook forever. And to do that, you have to put in some work. It can get better.”

  He whirled from the window to face Ms. Abagail directly. “What matters is that,” he shouted, jabbing a pudgy finger at the window. “Out there, there’s a forest just like that one. And that’s where my friends are. That’s what matters. Getting back there. This is your world, not mine. You may belong here. You may have friends and family to go home to. But I don’t. I belong there.” He jabbed at the window again. He breathing hissed between clenched teeth.

  Ms. Abagail, to her credit, didn’t back down. She stood her ground, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re wrong. Just plain wrong. You’re going through a rough patch, but everyone has someplace they belong. And here, on planet Earth. It just takes a bit to find it.” Wyatt turned and rested his forehead against the window grate. His fingers played at the metal, hoping to find some weakness. Wishing for an escape. “Everyone goes through this when they grow u
p,” Ms. Abagail continued. “I didn’t exactly have my crap together when I was your age either.”

  A thunk interrupted any further attempts at consolation from Ms. Abagail, and Nurse Bonnie stepped into the room. “Ms. Miller, I’m afraid your time to visit has come to an end. We need to start the intake process with Wyatt.”

  “All right,” Ms. Abagail said. She put a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder, causing a shudder to chase down to his toes. His first instinct was to pull away from the touch, but he found himself standing up taller and taking a small step nearer her. “Take care of yourself, Wyatt. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  Wyatt’s eyes went to hers and he closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her, falling into an embrace. It was hard to tell who was surprised more, Wyatt or Ms. Abagail, but she didn’t fight it, and returned the gesture. When she pulled away Wyatt had to turn from her. He didn’t want her to see him crying. And he couldn’t understand why he was.

  Ms. Abagail sighed and patted him on the back before she stepped from the room. “I’ll be back, Wyatt. Promise.”

  As the door clanked shut and the lock engaged, sealing him in, he collapsed onto the bed, sobbing. If only he could make the same promise.

  Chapter Seventeen

  IT WASN’T LONG after sundown that the screaming began. Wyatt had slept most of the afternoon, not being permitted outside of his room. They claimed it was standard procedure for all new patients to be restricted for the first few days, but Wyatt had a suspicion it had something to do with how he arrived. And then vanished only to arrive again in spectacular fashion.