Druid Master: A Druidverse Urban Fantasy Novel (The Colin McCool Paranormal Suspense Series Book 12)

by M. D. Massey

  Except for Samson’s self-satisfied chuckle, it was quiet enough to hear jaws drop all around as I gestured at an equally stunned Fallyn Randolph.

  “Austin Pack—meet your new alpha.”

  9

  “You can’t fucking do that, druid,” Trina said. “Pack law says that a new leader has to be chosen by challenge.”

  “Eh, not so fast,” Samson said. “We haven’t had a mated pair lead the Pack in some time, so let me explain how this works. The alpha’s mate shares the alpha’s authority, making him or her equal in the Pack’s structure. So, when the druid beat my ass—fair and square—Fallyn automatically became the Pack’s co-alpha.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us that before?” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “Because he knew you stupid fuckers would want to argue that shit, too,” Sledge said with a smirk. “And without Fallyn here to take on her challengers, they’d both have to forfeit leadership.”

  I leaned over and whispered in Fallyn’s ear. “Um, I didn’t know that.”

  “Figures,” she subvocalized. “If you’d have filled me in on your plan, I might’ve mentioned it.”

  “So,” Fallyn said loudly. “Any takers?”

  Trina raised her hand and stepped forward. “I’m game. Nothing personal, sugar, but leaving the druid’s mate in charge is just asking for trouble.”

  Two other ’thropes followed suit by raising their hands. One was a short, wiry Mexicano, while the other resembled that techno-Viking dude from the famous YouTube video. Both looked like they could handle themselves in a fight.

  “If she fails, we’re next,” Techno Viking said. The other guy just nodded.

  I had no idea who the other two were, but it didn’t matter. Samson wouldn’t challenge his daughter, and frankly, I didn’t think anyone else in the Pack could take her. So, I wasn’t worried—at least not until Fallyn opened her mouth.

  “Meh. I don’t have time to take you on one at a time. I’ll fight all three of you, right now. If I lose, you can fight it out among yourselves to see who becomes alpha.”

  “Deal!” Trina said, wasting no time in taking her up on the offer as the other two ’thropes nodded.

  “Um, Fallyn?” I asked.

  She let go of my hand, holding it up to fend off my objections. “Don’t worry, I got this,” she said as the crowd parted to make room for the match.

  If there was one thing the Pack loved, it was a good fight. However, I’d seen Fallyn fight before. Hell, I’d fought her before, first when I got jumped-in during my Pack initiation—when she’d knocked me out cold—and again earlier today.

  She was good, no doubt, and her relative ineffectiveness earlier could be chalked up to sheer rage and grogginess after being unconscious for several hours. Bottom line? I didn’t know if it was a good idea for her to take on three ’thropes at once.

  As Fallyn marched to the center of the circle formed by the crowd, I stepped closer to Samson. “Er, does she have this?”

  The confident smirk he gave me said it all. “A lot more goes on at that fancy castle than you realize. Watch and learn, kid.”

  The rest of the Pack—that is, those who were present—had spread out to form a circle roughly fifty feet in diameter. The surface was a combination of short-mown grass and crushed red granite, a surfacing material that was plentiful and cheap in central Texas. Once it had been packed to a smooth, flat surface, crushed granite was hard, rough, and unforgiving. If the fight went to the ground, it was going to suck for whoever ended up on the bottom of that scrum.

  Fallyn took up a position on one side of the circle, watching her challengers with arms crossed and a bored expression on her face. Meanwhile, the others had stripped down to their birthday suits, and as each began to shift, I took the opportunity to size up the competition. Trina’s wolf form was familiar to me, as she’d been involved in helping me learn to control my ríastrad. She was shorter than Fallyn, and stockier, with dark fur and eyes to match.

  Techno Viking’s transformation was the first shocker of the event. I’d expected another werewolf, but as he started shifting it was clear he was something else entirely. Already tall in his human form, he gained another foot as he changed into an eight-foot-tall, bipedal human-bear hybrid with huge, rippling muscles beneath a thick, deep brown coat.

  Not to be outdone, the third challenger dropped to all fours before he began shifting. First his back arched and contorted in a way that looked extremely painful, then his shoulders popped out of socket as his torso elongated. Gold and black fur began sprouting all over his back, shoulders, arms, legs, and head, while his underside became covered in short, downy white hair. As his limbs, hands, feet, torso, and head continued to change form, it became clear that he was one of a very rare breed of ’thrope.

  “The guy is a fucking were-jaguar,” I muttered in disbelief.

  “Ocēlōmeh, actually,” Samson remarked. “Izzy is a direct descendant of a Jaguar Knight.”

  “Fuck me,” I said under my breath. My gaze swept back to Fallyn, who was still in her human form. “Wait a minute—isn’t she going to shift?”

  Samson continued to wear his shit-eating, ‘I know something you don’t’ grin. “Nope. More honor in winning a challenge without shifting. My baby is making certain that nobody steps to her again.”

  “You’re okay with this? She’s going to get slaughtered,” I whispered with more than a bit of urgency in my voice.

  The old werewolf glanced at me, placing a finger over his lips. “Shh, the fight’s about to begin.”

  “Gah, I can’t watch,” I said, half covering my face as I continued to do exactly that through spread fingers.

  Fallyn pointed across the ring at the three ’thropes. “You ready?”

  “Damned straight, cupcake,” Trina growled.

  “Ready when you are,” Techno Viking snarled.

  Izzy merely nodded, blinking his greenish-yellow eyes and licking his upper lip lazily with a rough, too long pink tongue.

  “Then let’s get this over with,” Fallyn remarked, looking over her shoulder to wink at me. “I’m starving and portal-lagged, because someone decided to abduct me earlier today.”

  “Well, if she’s not worried, maybe I shouldn’t be either,” I remarked.

  “Ya think?” Samson said with a side-eyed glance.

  I felt rather than saw Fallyn smacking a flat palm down on the ground to secure the challenge area with Pack magic. Just as my gaze darted back to the ring, I felt a sudden emanation of powerful magic on the opposite side of the yard. The quality and nature of the magical energy set my druidic alarm bells off, and for a moment I thought Badb or Fuamnach had shown up.

  But as I looked across the yard and over the gathered crowd, I saw none of the usual destruction and decimation that accompanied the arrival of either Tuatha goddess. Instead, my eyes were drawn to a tall, olive-skinned woman with a slightly hooked Roman nose, striking, yellowish hazel eyes, and thick, flowing black hair. She was dressed much like Fallyn—in combat boots, tactical pants, and a black tank worn under a tan, long-sleeved tactical shirt.

  There was something about her—the set of her mouth, the shape of her chin. And those eyes. When they locked on mine, I knew exactly who had arrived.

  Yikes. Somehow, I think getting Mom’s approval is going to be way rougher than getting past Dad.

  Ignoring the icy stare I received from across the yard, I turned back to the fight just in time to see Fallyn kick Techno Viking across his big, fat werebear jaw. It was the same spinning heel kick that had knocked me on my ass roughly two years prior. While it looked like it hurt, it wasn’t enough to take the ursuthrope out.

  As Techno Viking shook it off, Fallyn ducked under a halfhearted swipe from his right paw, punching down at his thigh simultaneously. A loud snap echoed across the space as the werebear’s femur snapped in two. The bear roared as his leg folded unnaturally, and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. A collective gasp rose from the Pack, alon
g with a few “oh shits” and “damn, that must’ve hurt.”

  “Holy hell, Samson, what’ve they been feeding her at that fancy school—steroid-burgers?” His only answer was a dismissive head shake, so I turned my attention back to the action in the ring.

  Fallyn’s partial victory worked against her now, as she’d used the werebear’s bulk to shield her from the other two combatants. Although he lacked her mass, Izzy was quicker by far than Trina. Leaping over Techno Viking, he rounded on my mate in a bounding, quadrupedal sprint that closed the distance far more rapidly than most young vampires could move.

  Rather than crouch into a defensive cover or back up to gain additional time to react, Fallyn instead moved into the attack. And, boy, did she move. The girl leapt forward in a blur that took everything I knew about werewolf physiology and talents and dumped it on its head. If it wasn’t for the enhanced senses and abilities that my stealth-shifted form provided, the action would’ve been too fast to follow.

  In fact, I had to play it back in my mind’s eye, rewinding the previous seven-hundred milliseconds or so to process what had occurred. One moment, Izzy was flying at my girlfriend in mid-leap; the next, he was flat on his back, temporarily stunned into inaction.

  For a second, Fallyn remained on one knee next to the pantherathrope with her right hand wrapped around his throat. Then, she ripped his larynx out with a quick twist-snap-crunch, Roadhouse style. The girl casually tossed the ragged scrap of skin, cartilage, and muscle away as she stood, kicking Izzy under the jaw hard enough to snap his cervical spine as an afterthought.

  Whoa, that’s slick. She left the blood vessels intact to avoid killing him. But it’ll take time to heal, for sure. Dalton would be proud.

  And then there was one—two, if you counted Trina, but I did not like her odds. The female ’thrope who stood before my mate was no dummy, and she’d been friends and sparring partners with Fallyn for years. She bided her time, pacing a slow circle around the Pack’s newest alpha, occasionally making lunging feints to gauge her reactions and expose potential weaknesses.

  “Last chance, Trina,” Fallyn said in a low voice as she calmly waited for her final challenger to make a move. “Back down now, cede your claim, and there’ll be no hard feelings.”

  “What happens if she doesn’t back down?” I asked.

  “Usually, Pack members that lose a challenge are sent packing,” Samson replied. “Which will suck, being as how Trina is fourth in the Pack hierarchy behind Fallyn, me, and Sledge.”

  “Hey—where do I fit into all this?” I said with mock hurt in my voice.

  “Where you’ve always fit—dead last and barely tolerated. Fallyn’ll be the only thing keeping you in the Pack after the crap you pulled today.”

  “Sheesh, blame a guy for being a determined suitor.”

  “Suitor?” Samson said as he arched an eyebrow. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sport.”

  “Whatever,” I replied in a voice that was saltier than a bowl of barroom peanuts. “So, if I’m reading this right, even if she loses, Trina could take half the Pack with her when she’s exiled.”

  Samson’s mouth was a hard line. “Yup.”

  “Shit,” was all I could manage as I turned my attention back to the fight.

  That meant Fallyn would have to kill her to keep the Pack together. I liked Trina, and I damned sure didn’t want her to die. The silence was deafening as the challenger circled her alpha, with every eye glued to the scene unfolding before us.

  Trina shifted her weight forward, ever so slightly.

  Fallyn gave a short shake of her head.

  This was going to be bloody.

  “Enough!” said the woman I’d pegged as Fallyn’s mother. She stepped into the ring, breaking the Pack’s magical boundary with little effort. “I’ll not see a potential alpha wasted like this.”

  She spoke with such power and authority in her voice, two-thirds of the Pack let out a cacophony of whine, growls, and hisses as they involuntarily lowered their heads. Meanwhile, those who were more dominant winced and averted their gaze. From the looks of it, the only Pack members who weren’t affected were Samson, Fallyn, and yours truly.

  Trina spun toward the new arrival, shoulders hunched and head slightly lowered in what was clearly unintentional deference. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but interfering in a sanctioned challenge between an alpha and a Pack member is a death sentence.”

  “Silence,” the woman said, and this time even I felt the pressure of the dominance in her voice.

  That one word caused Trina to drop to a knee as if she’d been struck. Fallyn’s mother—who was clearly this Alpha Prime I’d heard about earlier—glided forward with the sort of grace I thought only the fae could manage. She grabbed Trina by the jaw in a rather ungentle manner, lifting her head so she could look down her nose at the lesser werewolf. Rather than make eye contact, Trina averted her gaze.

  “And who do you think wrote those laws, pup?” the Alpha Prime said.

  “Man, I wish I had some popcorn,” I whispered, earning myself a sharp look from what was likely to be my future mother-in-law.

  Meanwhile, Fallyn affected a bored expression. “Really, Mom? Like I can’t handle a dominant wolf who got out of line.”

  “She would’ve made you kill her, and you know it,” the Alpha Prime said. “And you’d never have forgiven yourself.”

  Fallyn said nothing, as showing weakness in front of the Pack was a huge no-no. Meanwhile, the Pack was getting restless under the pressure of being dominated by an unfamiliar alpha. Samson was obviously aware of this, so he stepped forward into the circle, pausing at the edge to look back at me with a pained expression.

  “Oh, so now you want me to be a part of this.” I stepped off the porch to follow him, muttering under my breath all the while. “No one ever wants the weird kid around until they find out he’s The Chosen One. Then it’s ‘do this, Harry’ and ‘fix that, Luke.’ And when you complain…?”

  Suddenly I was forced to pull up short, because Samson was right up in my face, blocking my path. “Stop. Talking,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Please.”

  “Since you said the magic word,” I replied smugly.

  A vein popped out on Samson’s forehead, but he managed to exercise enough self-control to turn away. When we finally reached the three women in the center of the ring, Samson greeted his… mate? Ex-wife? Former lover? I had no idea what their status was.

  “Lita,” he said with a deferent nod and a devil-may-care grin.

  “Samson,” she replied with just the hint of a smile. Almost as an afterthought, she gave a final order to the crowd. “Disperse, all except for these three.” She glanced down at Trina, who was still kneeling in her werewolf form. “You, get dressed. I have a proposal for you that I believe you’ll find most appealing.”

  As Trina scuttled off toward one of the cabins like a scolded pup, I cleared my throat. “Um, no offense, Lita, but I’m not at your beck and call,” I said, looking her in the eye. “I really don’t take orders well, especially not from your kind.”

  “Here we go,” Fallyn said under her breath.

  As the remaining perplexed Pack members found somewhere else to be, Fallyn’s mom and I had us a staring contest. I didn’t blink.

  Finally, Lita sighed in a most put-upon manner. “You remind me of my son.”

  “Um, thanks?” I said.

  “It’s not a compliment, believe me,” Fallyn replied as she grabbed my face and physically turned it so I was looking at her. “Stop making trouble,” she growled.

  I mouthed ‘I love you’ then turned back to her mother—after witnessing the shocked expression on Fallyn’s face.

  “Face it—you are doomed, my dear,” Lita said as she graced her daughter with a sympathetic grin. “Come, let us retire somewhere private so we can discuss the day’s events. And, so I can disabuse this young man of the notion that he should once more place my daughter in the path of angry Celtic god
s.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “I plan to kill Badb and Fuamnach before either of them even get near her.”

  “Noble, but easier said than done,” she replied while doing her creepily graceful glide-walk up the porch steps. “If that is indeed your plan, perhaps I shouldn’t worry.”

  “You actually think he can pull it off?” Samson asked.

  “Don’t be silly, my love. After he’s dead, they’ll lose interest in Fallyn. Now that they know who she belongs to, they won’t risk a war by coming after her without cause. As for the rest of his friends, well—”

  “Sheesh, it’s nice to know where I stand with my future in-laws,” I commented.

  At that, Samson rubbed his forehead, while Lita managed to curtail her response to a slight stiffening of her shoulders as she marched ahead of us. When Lita entered the clubhouse, Pack members practically jumped out the windows to get away from her. It was funny, but also a little disconcerting to see a goddess wield so much power over what were normally some of the most independent and anti-authoritarian people I knew. Sure, ’thropes always deferred to their pack leader, but it was rare for an alpha to engender that much fear and awe in their followers.

  “Do they even know who she is?” I asked.

  “They’ll know after today,” Samson said. “Seeing as I’ll have to explain that my ex is the Alpha Prime.”

  “Oh, come now, Samson,” Lita purred languidly as she took a seat on a recently vacated couch. “We are still mates, after all.”

  “True, but the life I lead now is a far cry from your fancy estate in the Alps. You know as well as I that the distance between us is made from more than just blood feuds between gods.”

  Lita gave Samson a pointed look. “Perhaps we should discuss this later—in private?”

  “Ew,” Fallyn said. “If you two are going to engage in mating rituals, do it on your own time.”