Blood Ties_A Junkyard Druid Urban Fantasy Short Story Collection

by M. D. Massey

  I nodded and coughed up more muddy mucous. “A fair point.”

  I looked around, taking in our environs for the first time. The oak tree was right there, not ten feet away. It was fully grown, with a trunk as wide as my mom’s kitchen table and lush, leafy branches reaching to the sky. But the junkyard was gone. Instead of cars, weeds, and dirt, we were surrounded by a forest meadow straight out of legend.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then looked at Lugh. “Um, can you tell me what happened to the junkyard? And please don’t say it got sucked into the spell.”

  Lugh chuckled softly. “Oh, not to worry. The purpose of the acorn is not destruction, but creation. Yer great demesne of metal junk remains intact… mostly, at least, save for the space the oak needed to take for itself in your dimension.”

  “Dimension, you say?” I looked around again, realizing for the first time that I most definitely wasn’t in Texas anymore. “Are we in Underhill, then?”

  “No, we’re in yer damned druid grove.” Lugh tossed his hands in the air and sighed loudly. “Didna’ the Dagda explain any of this to you?”

  I tilted my head to one side, hitting my palm against my skull to get the water out of my ear. “Nope, not a thing. He just kind of tossed me the acorn and said, ‘Here, you’re going to need this. Don’t lose it.’ That was pretty much the extent of it.”

  Lugh rubbed his face. “Ach, but the bastard always was vague about such matters. It’s not for me to school you in the ways of druidry, being as that’s always been his thing. But since you fulfilled your end of our bargain admirably, I thought I’d take the opportunity to pop in and lend ye a hand.”

  “Speaking of which, how the heck did you get here?” I asked. “I thought the pathways to Underhill were all blocked off.”

  “Aye, they are. But the grove provides ways and means of getting just about anywhere, if you know how to use it. If I weren’t on good terms with the Dagda, it’d expel me from here in short order. But for now, I’m able to use it as a doorway of sorts between the realms. At least, until he finds out that I came here.”

  “Something tells me your reason for being here has a lot to do with why the Dagda gifted the acorn to me in the first place,” I muttered.

  Lugh winked and puffed on his pipe. “That’s fer sure. But don’t think you can’t use this place to your own benefit. It is your grove, after all.”

  I considered his words. “Since I planted it, that means I own it?”

  He tapped his lips with the stem of his pipe, then pointed it at me. “‘Own’ is a rather tricky word, isn’t it? It doesn’t quite work that way. Think of the grove as a living thing, one that’s more like a hound than, say, a hammer or a good pair of boots. You can be its master, certainly—yet you never truly own something that has a will of its own. But treat it right, and it’ll serve you faithfully for time and times to come.”

  “That—”

  “Makes no sense, and every bit of sense in the world?” Lugh sat back against the tree’s trunk, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. “Yer dealing with the Tuatha now, lad. ’Tis no time to be dull. Yer dealing with powers beyond the reckoning of mortal men. Have some wits about you, or...” His voice trailed off, like the smoke wafting from the corners of his mouth.

  “Or?” I asked, more out of spite than sense.

  Lugh fixed me with a hard stare. “Or you’ll be dead as a doornail, long before you reach your potential and serve your true purpose.” He took an angry puff on his pipe. “That rascally Bag of yours is hanging on the other side of the tree, and there’s a stream not far from here where you can make yourself presentable. I suggest you do so, and quick, so we can get down to the business at hand.”

  I waited for more, but it was clear Lugh had said all he was going to say for the moment. I decided to do the wise thing and play along, if only to see why he’d gone through the trouble of coming here. Truth be told, the last thing I needed was to piss off yet another Celtic deity.

  4

  I found my Craneskin Bag hanging where Lugh had indicated. I wasn’t surprised, since it too had a mind of its own and always turned up eventually when we became separated. The stream was a short walk away—a picturesque brook running with cold, clear water, like an elven glade had been extracted from Tolkien’s books and plopped down in front of me. I bathed quickly and changed, then headed back to the oak to see what was what.

  Lugh stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the tree’s trunk with narrowed eyes. “Ah, damn it. It’s happening faster than I expected.”

  The tree looked pretty normal to me. “Care to fill me in?”

  “You’ve eyes and magic of your own, do you not? Look!”

  Taking the hint, I looked at the tree in the magical spectrum. The oak’s leaves and branches shimmered and glowed with bright-green energy, signifying the life-giving nature magic that had created it. But something else resided at the core of the trunk—a roughly cocoon-shaped blob of druidic energy that glowed purple at the center, fading to red and dark blue around the edges.

  “What is that thing?”

  Lugh tsked. “That thing is the result of the pact the Dagda made with your former lover—or, rather, her spirit. The girl’s ghost has taken up residence at the heart of the tree, and the grove’s magic now merges with her spirit to create something new and potentially dangerous.”

  “Jesse? You mean Jesse is in there?”

  Lugh crossed his arms as he nodded. “The same.”

  “But how? Why?”

  Lugh rubbed his chin and gazed at the tree. “The Dagda means to resurrect her and, in so doing, bind you to his service through her. He likes you, lad, but make no mistake—he fears you as well. Fears what you’ll become. Already those gods who remain amongst the various pantheons mutter about the ‘god-killer druid’ who slays their avatars and offspring. The Dagda would seek to control you, if he can, and make you his champion.”

  “So, yet another god wants to use me. No surprise there.” I sat down heavily on a nearby root. “You say he’s going to bring her back… why is that such a bad thing?”

  Lugh gave me a sharp look. “I told you, have some wits about you. Resurrection is not a thing to be taken lightly, not at all! If he brings the girl back in this manner, she’ll not be the same person. She’ll be changed, perhaps beyond recognition—not necessarily in form, but in essence.”

  I rubbed my face briskly and ran my fingers through my hair. “Why are you bothering to tell me this? Why help me, Lugh?”

  “No one said I was here to help you,” he snapped. “Perhaps I’m here to help myself, eh?”

  “I already figured that much. But what’s your angle?”

  “So, you’re not as dense as you seem then. Hmph.” His eyes and voice softened a bit, and he gave a wistful smile. “I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t have a stake in this. You’re the first mortal in ages to show the Fomorian blood so strongly. That makes you a threat to the gods, and one hell of a dangerous pawn. For that reason, Niamh wanted to use you and the Dagda wants to control you—but me? Let’s just say I want to see you set free.”

  “Free from what? C’mon, Lugh, stop speaking in riddles and tell me what you’re really after.” I glanced at the sword at his waist—almost certainly Fragarach—and the shield nearby. “From what I see, you came expecting a fight. What are you afraid of?”

  Lugh crossed the distance between us in a heartbeat, grabbing me by my collar and lifting me off the ground. He pulled me close, so we were nearly nose to nose. Lightning flashed in his eyes as he spoke to me in a low, menacing voice, and I heard a roll of thunder in the distance.

  “Watch it, little man. A budding demigod you may be, and cousin to me by blood—if a distant one at that. But don’t think for a second that gives you leave to insult me. I’ve many ways to achieve my ends, and yer but one of them.”

  I held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have challenged your honor. My apologies.” />
  Lugh snorted softly before setting me down. “Apology accepted. Now, druid, I’ve a question to ask you. And before you answer it, think carefully and speak truly, for everything we do here today depends on it.”

  “I’ve no reason to deceive you, Lugh. Ask away.”

  “This woman—you loved her once, yes?”

  I glanced at the oak and tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat. “I did, and still do. Why do you ask?”

  “And I take it you’d do anything to get her back?”

  I hung my head, unable to look him in the eye—or even look at where Jesse’s spirit now rested within the heartwood of the tree. “You know how she died, right?”

  “I know, boy, that I do. You’re not the first to be cursed with the Fomorian blood, after all.”

  “Then you also know I’d do anything to right that wrong.”

  Lugh’s shoulders slumped. “Damn it, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

  “Now I’m confused. You were hoping I’d gotten over her?”

  “Of course that’s what I was hoping! Are ye daft, boy?”

  I raised an eyebrow at the Celtic god. “I don’t follow.”

  “Gah! You haven’t been listening. The Dagda wants you safely under his thumb, and he intends to use the girl to do it. If he brings her back, she’ll be changed by the grove’s magic, which makes her a wild card in this whole scheme of his. What’s more, you’re a threat to the gods, which is why the Dagda wants you brought to heel in the first place. Surely his intentions favor the side of good, but do you really want to be his bloody brood matron?”

  “I think you mean, ‘his bitch.’”

  “That’s what I said!”

  “Um, no.” Lugh’s nostrils flared slightly. “I mean, yeah, you did say that—in a manner of speaking. And no, I don’t want to be anyone’s ‘brood matron.’”

  Lugh threw his hands in the air. “Of course you don’t. You’ll understand why I wished you felt differently about the lass… being that I have to kill her now.”

  5

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa—slow your roll there, Goldilocks. What do you mean you have to kill her?”

  Lugh’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to let that one pass, just this once.” He rested a hand lightly on his sword’s pommel. “Now, as fer yer girlfriend, she’s dead already—so I’d not be killing her so much as killing the thing growing within that tree that’ll soon house her spirit. That way, the Dagda can’t use her for leverage against you, to bring you into his service directly.”

  “But what if I want her to come back? Who says I even care she’ll be changed?”

  The Celtic deity’s voice took on a somber tone. “I know it’s hard, lad, but she’ll be a liability to you in every way possible. Trust me when I say that she’ll not be the woman you remember. Yet you’ll love her all the same, even as the Dagda uses her to pull at your heartstrings like wires on a puppet’s limbs. I have to put her down. There’s no other way.”

  “I can’t let you do that. I’d die to protect her.”

  “Think carefully now, lad, about what yer saying. She’s already a ghost, and by rights she should’ve moved on to the next life. Sadly, this bond you two share has kept her from the eternal reward. If she takes physical form again, it’ll only make it worse. She’ll be immortal, and a demigod in her own right. What happens when you age and die, or fall in battle, and she’s left to mourn your passing? Consider the consequences!”

  I took a few steps, placing myself between Lugh and the oak. Then I reached into my Bag, drawing the flaming sword. I set it tip-down in front of me, resting my hands atop the pommel.

  “I appreciate your intent, Lugh—really, I do. But you’ll harm Jesse over my dead body.”

  Lugh shook his head and exhaled heavily. “Ach, I was afraid ye’d say that.” He dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword, wrapping his fingers slowly around the grip. “Now, I promise I’ll make this quick—”

  Crack! Lugh’s words were cut off as the oak split open with an earth-shattering sound, followed by a burst of magical energy that tossed me across the meadow, straight into the Celtic deity. My sword went flying as we landed in a tumble of arms and legs, each of us momentarily entangled until Lugh tossed me off him.

  I landed several feet away, rolling groggily to my feet as I turned to see what had happened. Blindingly-bright green light suffused the area in and around the oak, obscuring whatever was going on there. Lugh stood, drawing his sword, the blade singing a low keening wail as it cleared the scabbard.

  I looked around for my sword, spotting it nearby. Just as I was about to dive for it, I felt a length of cold, humming steel at my throat.

  “Stay back, or I separate his head from his shoulders. Don’t tempt me, lass! All it takes is a flick of my wrist, and the Answerer’ll cleave his gourd clean off.”

  Since I was facing away from the tree, I couldn’t actually see who he was speaking to. And I didn’t dare turn my head for fear of slicing my neck open on the supernaturally-sharp blade. Lugh was a god, and I trusted he had full control over his weapon, but my druid senses also told me the damned thing would spill my blood if I so much as flinched.

  Nothing like a sentient, bloodthirsty magical sword to ruin a druid’s day.

  I decided to wait for whoever Lugh had addressed to respond. A woman’s voice answered, mellifluous and haunting, but familiar to me just the same.

  “Ooh, I like this new body! I gotta tell you something, you Celtic gods sure do know how to put a girl back together.”

  “Jesse, is that you?” I asked, remaining as still as possible.

  “Huh? Oh, hi, Colin. Yes, of course it’s me. Sorry it took me so long to get here, but I was stuck in that silly cocoon. Funny, the gestation period was supposed to take weeks—but I guess the grove decided to speed things up when Bob Ross here made the mistake of threatening you.”

  Lugh shifted his weight slightly, although the sword didn’t move one millimeter. “Listen here, lassie—one more step, and yer boyfriend becomes the next Dullahan. Even the grove won’t be able to heal him from a mortal wound caused by this blade—you know it to be true.”

  Jessie yawned. “True. Then again, it’s not like the grove would allow him to be injured, either.”

  “Do you care to place a wager on that?” the youthful god asked.

  Jesse muttered to herself as if we weren’t there. “Gah, I’m not sure how I feel about the patches of bark on my skin. Must be a side effect of speeding up the maturation process.”

  “I’ll kill him, girl!” Lugh hissed.

  “No, you won’t,” she replied listlessly, the boredom in her voice evident.

  I heard someone snap their fingers, and suddenly I was on the other side of the oak, hand-in-hand with someone who stood just behind me to my left. I turned my head slowly, not wanting to get my hopes up, yet anticipating a moment I’d wished for since the day she’d died.

  The first thing I noticed was her eyes. Instead of an iris, pupil, and sclera, each gleaming orb was colored a single shade of deep forest green. Despite their strangeness, those eyes were familiar—as were her fine, almost elfish features and the bright, broad smile she gave me.

  “Hiya, Slugger.”

  She looked different but the same. I knew instantly that the strange eldritch creature beside me was the same girl I’d loved from the moment we’d met. The way she stood, the angle at which she cocked her head as she smiled, how her pinkie finger twitched nervously as she waited for me to speak—everything told me this was the love of my life, come back from the grave.

  “Jesse!” I exclaimed as I pulled her into a tight embrace.

  6

  “How? I mean, why? What—”

  She pulled away, shushing me with a finger on my lips.

  “Wish we had more time to catch up, but there’s a god who wants to kill me on the other side of this grove. Right now, the grove and I are confusing him by reconfiguring the scenery, but event
ually he’s going to figure out a way to see past our magic. And unfortunately, I can’t expel him from here.”

  “Why not?” I asked, still marveling at the fact that she was standing right in front of me. Well, not her, exactly—but close enough.

  Jesse poked me in the chest with a slender, light-green finger. “Because you’re the boss here, cupcake. Your house, your rules. That means you have to kick his ass out.”

  “Jess, this is Lugh Lámfada we’re talking about here. That sword he’s carrying is known as the Retaliator for a reason. It can cut through just about anything, and once it wounds a man, they never recover.”

  Jesse crinkled her nose and squinted at me. “Geez, Colin, when did you become such a pussy? He may be a god—emphasis on the small ‘g,’ mind you—but he’s not invincible. C’mon, you have the home field advantage. Go out there and show him what’s what, and I’ll give you a hand when and where I can.”

  I furrowed my brow as she shoved me toward the other side of the tree. “Um, I don’t think this is a very good idea…”

  “Pish posh. Captain Jheri Curl doesn’t stand a chance against you on your own turf. Now, go out there and kick his ass. While you’re handling that prick, I’m going to make myself scarce so he doesn’t plant that nasty sword in me. ’Kay? Great, see you in a few!”

  She patted me on the cheek and disappeared, leaving a cloud of sun sparkles and green faery dust behind that quickly dissipated. A second later, all that was left was the light smell of lavender and freshly-turned earth.

  Lugh’s voice echoed from somewhere on the far side of the oak tree. “Druid, you may as well come out and face me. I’ll not harm ye any more than necessary, and then I’ll take care of that abomination that was once yer true love. Short, sweet, and painless is how I’ll make her passing, I swear it.”

  “I can’t let you do that, Lugh. Why don’t we just talk this whole thing out?”

  “There ye are,” he replied in a low voice.