by Alys West
Maeve lifted the chalice from the flames. “Goddesses, may the lifeblood of the druid flow through my veins, may the energy of his staff strengthen my heart.” Eyes closed, she started to drink.
Finn yanked the talisman from his neck. He reached down and slammed it against the earth. Instantly, his staff shot up to its full height. He scrambled up, drew on the energy of the ley line and focused it. The chalice flew from Maeve’s hands. Blood spilling out it hurtled to the ground.
The spellworker shrieked, “No!”
“I told you that you knew nothing about druid power.”
Suddenly the air tightened around him. He couldn’t move.
Maeve walked towards him, her hand raised palm out. The force field pushed him backwards. His feet scrabbled to stay on the ley line. He tried to fight back, to push his staff to the ground but the invisible power that held him was too strong. It dragged him across the circle and then, with a flick of Maeve’s hand, flung him at the largest of the standing stones.
He crashed against it. Heard a crack. Felt instant agony inside his shoulder. His head swam. His vision blurred.
Then the memories broke through. Full moon over the garden at Anam Cara. The force field pinning him against the tree. Maeve’s knife at his throat. Her high pitched laugh. Blinding panic as the tree’s roots curled around his ankles. Fighting the branches knotting at his wrists. His strength waning as the tree sucked him in. The absolute certainty that he was about to die. Screaming in terror as bark covered his face.
Wrapping his arms around his staff, he cowered against the stone. This was it. This time Maeve would kill him.
The tip of his staff touched the stone. A tingle of awen seeped through the staff into his hands. Instinctively he drew on it, sensed it unravelling from deep within the stone. The earth magic of the St Michael line channelled through the circle of stones. It flowed through his hands into muscle, nerve, bone. He breathed with it, felt his heart rate slow, the memories dissipate.
He focused his mind on the invisible bonds that held him. Pushed the ley line’s energy out. He had a sense of the force field flexing like an elastic band. He pushed harder and it snapped.
Striding towards him Maeve stopped as if she’d been struck.
Leaping up, Finn threw himself into the space between this stone and the next. His body collided with the force field sealing the circle. He braced against it, pressed his hand against one stone, his staff against the other. Drawing the energy of the stones into him, he pushed out.
He heard Maeve cry, “I summon the God of Fire. Let this circle be his.”
Flames swept around the stones. As the heat hit him, Finn flung himself away.
Maeve laughed. “You can’t escape, Finn McCloud.”
He darted around the inside of the circle. The crystal plate flew towards him. He doubled over, kept running. It smashed into a stone and shattered. Shards of glass sliced across his forehead, his scalp.
Spotting the pebbles marking the position of the ley line, Finn reached out with his staff and plunged it into the ground. He gasped at the strength of awen surging through him. Zoe had said something about a dragon roaring. This felt like a dragon. An angry dragon trapped in the earth for thousands of years. When it felt like he could hold no more, that awen would burn him up, he thrust the energy towards the force field.
The flames dropped. He felt the barrier stretch and he pushed harder.
In his peripheral vision he saw something flying towards him. He ducked. The knife swerved, heading for his face. His free hand rose instinctively to ward it off. The knife kept coming. Slid agonisingly through skin and muscle.
He stared at his palm for a long second. The tip of Maeve’s knife in the flesh between his index finger and his thumb. The handle on the other side. Bright red blood.
He heard a roaring. The dragon. He had to let lose the dragon. He raised his staff, pointed the tip at Maeve. Released the surge of St Michael’s energy that filled him.
The spellworker flew backwards, crashed against an upright stone, tumbled to the earth. He blinked at the static body. Raised his staff to fight again. The body didn’t move.
The wind swirled around him. The force field was gone.
He stumbled over to where Maeve lay. There was blood on the stone, blood staining her blonde hair. He pushed her shoulder. Her head rolled over. The face that looked back at him was the face of the crone. The watery, blue eyes were lifeless.
There was burning in his hand. Scorching up his arm, consuming everything. He grasped the hilt of the knife and pulled. Blood spurted. His head swam. He dropped his staff. His legs buckled. He fell.
Chapter 35
Watching from the hill, Zoe saw him fall. “Finn!” she cried. The wind carried the sound away.
Next to her, Winston said, “Shit!”
Zoe grabbed his arm. “Is he alright?”
“How do I know?” Winston swung his rucksack on to his back. “I’m going down there.”
Zoe started forward.
“No!” His hand shot out. “I promised Finn I’d keep you safe. Stay here until I find out if Maeve’s dead.”
“Oh!” She looked away, swallowed hard. “Okay.”
As Winston sprinted down the hill the sun crept over the horizon, bathing the clouds in orange light. The moorland emerged from darkness, a huge expanse of bleak heather dotted with outcrops of rock. She shivered and huddled deeper into Finn’s coat.
The past half an hour had been almost unbearable. Even though Winston had told her the plan it had still been torture to watch. When the fire died and Finn stood upright in the centre of the circle she felt like cheering. But then he’d fallen.
If he hadn’t made it. If he was… She wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to even think that word.
Winston ran across the circle, dropped to his knees beside Finn, bent over him. Eyes wide, Zoe prayed to a God she didn’t think she believed in. Winston took a bottle from his rucksack, poured the contents over Finn’s head. Zoe’s tired eyes tried to focus on his face. Had he…? Then his hand rose to his face and Zoe’s knees suddenly became weak.
Winston hauled Finn towards the nearest upright stone, helped him to sit up. Then, staff raised, he walked across the circle, crouched next to the unmoving black shape. He was still for a long time before he walked across the circle and picked something up. Returning to Maeve he raised his hand. Sunlight glinted on the thing he held. As if the world had suddenly slowed down, Zoe realised it was a knife. Winston’s arm moved, plunging the blade into the body.
She screwed her eyes up, her hands rising to cover her face. Whatever Maeve had done she hadn’t wanted to see that. When she looked again, Winston stood next to Finn.
Her hands flew out. What was going on? She bounced up and down on the spot. Then Winston waved his arms as if semaphoring and she broke into a run. Dodging rocks and leaping over tufts of heather she sprinted down the hillside.
Gasping for breath, with a stitch in her side, she dashed into the circle and then stopped. He wasn’t alright. Blood was smeared across his face, dripping from his wet hair. His cheek was all mashed up. Winston was bandaging his hand with a strip of black cloth.
“It’s okay,” Winston said, mistaking her hesitation. He nodded at the pile of crumped black robes. “She’s…”
Eyes fixed on Finn’s face, Zoe didn’t take in his words. She walked over, dropped to her knees beside him. “Oh my God! What happened?”
“She fought dirty.” Finn managed a weak grin. His uninjured hand took hers. “But I made it. I told you I wouldn’t die.”
Zoe bit her lip but the tears came anyway. “Hey!” Finn’s fingers tightened on hers. “I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”
“This is pleased.” She smiled, brushing the tears away with her fingers. “When you fell I thought…”
“I passed out.” He glanced up at his friend. “Winston brought me round by pouring a pint of cold water over my head.”
“It worked,” Winston said. Looking at Zoe, he added, “He needs a doctor. Will you take him to the hospital?”
“Course. But can’t you heal him?”
Winston shook his head. “I’m pretty sure he’s got fractures. He says his ribs hurt. His collar bone could have broken when he hit the stone and who knows what damage has been done to his hand.” He gestured helplessly. “If I heal him the bones could set wrong. He needs x-rays.”
Zoe stared. “That bad?”
Winston nodded.
She glanced at Finn. His head rested against the stone. His face was grey, his eyes closed. “You’re not coming with us?” she asked Winston.
“I’ll help you get him to the car and then I’m coming back. I’ve got to… clean up here.”
Zoe nodded, grateful to Winston for what he hadn’t said. She couldn’t think about Maeve. She had to keep it together for Finn. She stroked his unhurt cheek, saw his eyes flicker open. She forced a smile. “Okay, Finn. You and I have a hot date at the hospital.”
* * *
The nurse behind the reception desk in Oakhampton Minor Injuries Unit listened disinterestedly as Zoe listed Finn’s injuries. She handed over a clipboard. “Get your boyfriend to fill in this form and bring it back.”
Zoe walked over to the row of plastic chairs where Finn waited. As she sat down next to him he said, “Did she say how long?”
She shook her head. “Paperwork first. Then if you’re lucky you might see a doctor.” His injured hand rested awkwardly against his chest. With his good one he reached for the clipboard.
“Why don’t I fill this in?” she said.
His nod was such a small movement she barely caught it. “Thanks.”
She picked up the pen, scanned the form. It wanted all the usual information; address, date of birth, details of his GP, any existing health conditions. “There’s so much I don’t know about you,” she said.
“Does it matter?”
Her eyes rose to his face. “No. Not after tonight.”
* * *
In a different waiting room outside the x-ray department Zoe tried not to fall asleep. On the opposite wall was a large TV with the sound turned off. Too tired to read the subtitles, her eyes were continually drawn to the changing pictures.
There was a shot of Glastonbury Tor, followed by a burnt out house. Zoe blinked, focused. A reporter stood in front of Anam Cara’s blue gate. “The police are investigating the fire at the property and are keen to speak to the owner,” the subtitles read.
She leaned forward. “We believe that a body was found in the property but this has yet to be confirmed,” the reporter continued. Behind her a man in white plastic coveralls ducked under the line of police tape. “However, it’s clear that the police are treating this as a crime scene.”
As the reporter handed back to the newscaster, she fumbled in the pocket of Finn’s coat and pulled out his phone. The BBC website had no more information. Frantically she tried other sites but found only rumours and speculation. Sagging back in the chair, she cursed the fact that her own phone was still in Maeve’s car. She needed to ring Tanya. She didn’t have Helena’s number but maybe Tanya would.
When Finn emerged from behind the thick double doors a few minutes later he looked even paler and more exhausted. Thinking she’d tell him later, she tried to smile as she walked towards him but something in her face must have alerted him. “You okay?” he said.
“It’s Anam Cara. There’s been a fire. And they’ve found -” her hand rose to her mouth “- they’ve found a body.”
Finn frowned. “She said she couldn’t remember.”
“What?”
His eyes met hers. “It doesn’t matter.”
* * *
Hours later, Zoe unlocked the door to the cottage and stood back to allow Finn to pass. His tightly bandaged hand rested in a sling. His fractured collar bone had been strapped up. The wound on his cheek had been taped and he’d been told to put ice on his cheekbone to help the break heal. There was a bald patch on his scalp where the doctor had shaved his hair to stitch the gash. The only good news had been that his ribs were only bruised.
Zoe put the bag of drugs on the coffee table. Without thinking she picked up two dirty mugs and an empty pizza box and took them over to the kitchen. When she turned, Finn sat on the bed. Wincing he bent over and slowly untied his boots. She bit back the offer to help. He’d already made it clear that he wanted to do as much as possible for himself.
Laying down he let out a long breath. She filled a glass of water, took a packet of painkillers from the bag. As she put them on the bedside cabinet, his uninjured hand fastened around hers and pulled her down to sit on the bed.
“Stay,” he said.
“Of course. I’m going to make up the sofa bed.”
“No. Here. With me.”
“Are you sure? The doctor said you need to sleep. I don’t want to disturb you.”
“Fuck the doctor.”
She shook her head. “Thanks but he’s not my type. I’d rather have you.”
“Good. Hold that thought.” He pulled her towards him and kissed her very gently.
Chapter 36
Walking up the spine of Wearyall Hill in the last of the evening sun, Zoe could see that Finn was tiring. His breathing was laboured, his face pale. Even with his druid’s ability to heal it had seemed overambitious to walk into Glastonbury this evening. But when she reminded him of the doctor’s instruction to rest and suggested that they drive, Finn said he needed to be outside. She guessed that was a druid thing too.
Reaching the brow of the hill, the Somerset Levels spread out like a green patchwork quilt below them. “Wow! You can see for miles from here!” She spotted a bench, gestured to it. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”
Finn ran his good hand over his face, puffed out a long breath and nodded. Further down the slope was the Holy Thorn. Two women stood around it. One wore flowers in her hair. From a very different kind of Beltane, Zoe thought.
In the distance, behind the thorn tree, rose the Tor. Beneath that was the burnt out shell of Anam Cara. “I just want to know if it’s Helena they’ve found,” she said. Earlier she’d contacted Tanya through Facebook. She didn’t think the body would be Penny’s or Tony’s. They would have left together.
“I know, sweetheart.” Finn squeezed her hand.
“How long’s it going to take before they identify her?”
“It could be a while. They’ll probably need her dental records from Australia.”
Zoe nodded, bit her lip. “If it is her then it’s so bloody unfair. Helena adored Maeve. She’d have done anything for her. I just don’t understand why she’d kill her.”
“When I was trying to keep her talking I asked how many people she’d killed. She said she couldn’t remember.”
“Oh my God!” Zoe’s eyes widened. “So there could be more bodies?”
Finn nodded. “If not at Anam Cara then somewhere else.”
Zoe’s eyes were suddenly full of tears. She sucked in a deep breath, pushed her hair away from her face.
“To say she was evil doesn’t really cover it,” Finn said. “But that’s the only word I’ve got.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t cover it,” Zoe said, her voice high and tight.
“How you doing with all of this?”
Zoe looked down at the pink and tender skin on her wrists. “Fine.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean that.” He touched her temple. “I meant in here.”
She glanced at him. The concern in his eyes made tears threaten again. She looked down at the grass by her feet, twisting her hands together. “I haven’t really thought about it. It’s all a bit too much and I’ve been so worried about you and...”
Finn tugged her hand. “Look at me.” When her eyes met his, he said, “In the past twenty four hours you’ve been drugged and kidnapped, bound, threatened and seen a woman die.”
The tears were really close now. Zoe’s ga
ze dropped. “Thanks for reminding me!”
“I’m just saying that if you weren’t upset there’d be something wrong with you.”
She half laughed, half sobbed. As her hand rose to her mouth, Finn raised his arm and she curled into his shoulder. He didn’t speak, simply held her while she cried. When she finally pulled away, she said, “I must look terrible.”
Finn’s smile was warm. “Not terrible. Just soggy.”
They sat in silence, staring out across the flat landscape. Zoe tugged on the hem of the t-shirt sticking out from under her hoodie. It was Finn’s and far too big for her. “There’s something I need to ask.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“I…” Her eyes flicked up to meet his and then away. “It’s about the tree.” She hesitated, hoping she didn’t have to say anymore. When he remained silent, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were the Green Man?”
“Oh! That.” His hand slid from her shoulder.
“Yes, that.” Zoe risked a glance at him. She’d expected to see tension in his jaw, tightening around his eyes, the signs that indicated this was something he wouldn’t tell her. Instead he looked simply exhausted.
“I honestly thought you’d never need to know.” He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on his uninjured hand.
“And if I hadn’t dreamt about it would you have told me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, sometime.” He suddenly sat back, looked her in the eye. “Try to see it from my side. I meet this gorgeous girl who I really like. The last thing I want to do is tell her I’ve spent six months imprisoned in a tree.”
“So you let me think you’d been in New Zealand?” Zoe’s hands flew out. “Doing something really boring with soil!”
“I did work on a soil erosion project in New Zealand. Only it was two years ago.”
Zoe folded her arms. “I don’t care about the soil thingy. I care that you didn’t tell me about Maeve and the tree.”
“I’m getting that.” He twisted awkwardly to look at her. “I let you go on thinking I’d been in New Zealand because it was easier than telling you what really happened.” Seeing her about to interrupt he added, “I didn’t want to talk about it. Not to you. Not to anybody.”