Druid Bond

by Brad Magnarella

  Two of the officers who had helped wrestle the creature into confinement took seats at a desk facing the duplex of cells, their sidearms loaded with silver rounds. The vampire groaned behind his muzzle and eyed them through the window.

  “Jesus,” Hoffman muttered. “Sure that cell’s gonna hold him?”

  “Those are some of the most powerful protections I’ve ever built,” I said. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  Hoffman turned his skeptical face to Vega.

  “It’ll hold him,” she said.

  Back upstairs, Vega had me close the door to her modest office as she sat behind her desk.

  “I know, I know,” she sighed before I’d even said anything. “You don’t like me leaving the safe house in my condition, much less chasing vampires. On the first point, I warned you I was going in today. On the second, I got a call to a body. I didn’t know the perps were going to be blood suckers.”

  “So, the protection held up?” I tapped my chest to indicate the coin pendant beneath her blouse.

  “Yeah, it was pretty wild. They got within about a hundred feet, then hissed and recoiled like someone had bombed the street with tear gas. Took off in the other direction. I shot the one downstairs. Stunned him long enough for the officers to cuff and muzzle him. The other one got away.”

  “What did he look like?” I asked, my mind already going to Arnaud.

  “She,” Vega corrected me. “About the other perp’s age, but much faster. We couldn’t get a clean shot.”

  I nodded as I took a seat in the folding chair facing her desk. “Probably the one who turned him. Some vamps prefer to work in pairs. She might have been training him to hunt. Is the Sup Squad looking for her?”

  Short for Supernatural Squad, the tactical team operated in full body armor, complete with extra protection over vital arteries, and carried weapons loaded with enhanced rounds. The seeds of the Sup Squad were planted during the mayor’s purge campaign, though back then they were called the Hundred. In the year that followed, the unit had slimmed down to twelve with Vega and I providing occasional training. Their equipment and armor came from Centurion United, the big defense company.

  When Vega nodded, I said, “Have them destroy the other perp, if possible. That will restore our boy downstairs. I can testify that he wasn’t responsible for his actions.”

  Vega called the squad commander and relayed the info.

  “Thanks,” she said to me as she ended the call. “So what have you been up to?”

  My heart rate bumped to a faster tempo. I would tell her about my conversation with Carlos—I had to—but I decided to get the other things out of the way first. I might not get a chance later.

  “I have a location on Arnaud.”

  Vega looked up, her eyes saucer round.

  “Or a former location,” I amended. “But I don’t want a police response.”

  The old Vega would have argued. This Vega understood the danger, even to the Sup Squad.

  “The Ludwick Hotel,” I said. “I have some golems surveilling the location and another checking out other hotels in the area.” I didn’t mention that I couldn’t currently access said golems thanks to the damned druid bond. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from the hotel—the entire Upper East side, for that matter.”

  “All right, but not even a cordon?”

  “No,” I said firmly. “He already knows I was there—I sort of stumbled over a tripwire. If he finds my golems, he can do whatever he wants to them, but I don’t want him taking out his anger on the NYPD. I set a trap in case he returns to the room. Otherwise, I’ll have to hunt him the old-fashioned way.” That was, once the business with the Strangers had wrapped up.

  Vega nodded, agreeing to stay away.

  Next, I filled her in on the Stranger and the challenge of the time catch.

  When I finished, she stared at me. “So you’re planning to go back in time, battle a demon, and hope you make it back here before that world, what, implodes? And you’re worried about me driving to the office?”

  “Hey, I’m not the one carrying our little passenger.” I patted my belly.

  She cocked her head impatiently. “Croft, you know what I’m saying. That sounds super risky, even for you.”

  “Well, we’re working on getting some help.”

  “From the Order?”

  “Actually, the Order is stuck in another plane.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it’s been that kind of day. Claudius is working on it.” The fact was, I should have been working on it, hunting down Arnaud instead of following a Stranger into a frigging time catch. Vega was right: risky as hell.

  “Who does that leave?” she asked.

  “The, um…” I coughed into a fist. “The fae.”

  “I thought you said you couldn’t trust them.”

  “You can’t, but I’m working through some more reliable channels.”

  “And which would those be?”

  I’d been hoping to avoid the topic of Caroline, not because Vega knew about our history—she didn’t. In fact, I doubted she would have even cared. All of that had happened long before we’d paired up. It was more that I was struggling with why approaching Caroline now was making me so damned anxious. I didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Vega had total claim to those. So, what was it?

  Vega watched me, the question she’d just asked lingering in her eyes. She could read me well enough that if I brought up Caroline, she would know something was bothering me. Something I couldn’t put into words yet.

  “Seay and I have fae contacts,” I said at last. “Tenuous contacts. We’ll see if anything comes of them.” All absolutely true. And it was very possible nothing would come of them, making the whole thing moot.

  “Just look before you jump,” she said.

  “Believe me, I will.”

  Vega began to access the reporting system on her computer.

  “There’s something else I wanted to tell you,” I said through a dry mouth. “I talked to Carlos today.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she said absently. “He called me earlier. Looks like he left a message.”

  “Arnaud paid him a visit last week.”

  Vega looked over sharply. “What?”

  I described the encounter, watching her face harden at how close the demon-vampire had come to her son again. There was no telling what might have happened if she hadn’t given him my grandfather’s coin pendant that day. A mother’s intuition, indeed. And then there was the safety of the rest of her family. I gave her the same assurances I’d given Carlos—that Arnaud had gone to their house for information and then left once he’d obtained it, that I didn’t see him bothering them again.

  “How confident are you in that?” she asked.

  “I admit, it’s more a gut assessment than anything, but pretty confident.”

  “Even after what happened to Blade and the vampire hunters?”

  I suppressed the bloody image of the apartment before it could take lurid form. “If Arnaud had wanted to do something to your brother, there was nothing stopping him,” I said. “It was just the two of them and an empty street.”

  Vega sighed, sat back in her chair, and rubbed her temples.

  “Carlos was more worried about you and Tony than anything,” I said.

  “Well, that’s never going to change.”

  “I told him you were pregnant.”

  There. It was out.

  Vega lowered her hands from her head.

  “I wasn’t planning to,” I added quickly. “He thought everyone would be safer if I stopped seeing you, and I was making the point that, well, that was sort of impossible now. It just came out. It was bone-headed and—”

  “It’s all right.”

  My lips stuttered to a stop. Not the response I’d been expecting.

  Vega gave a tired wave. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. You said you would tell your family when you were ready.”

  “Well, maybe th
at was how Carlos needed to hear it. There’s being concerned and then there’s being controlling. He’s been doing too much of the second lately.” It sounded like he and his brothers had had a version of the Talk with Ricki too. “I’m a grown woman, and he’s not my father.”

  Though Carlos had taken a hard line against me, I didn’t want to see a wedge driven between him and his sister over it. “At the end of the day, he’s just looking out for you and Tony,” I sighed.

  Vega dropped her gaze to the pen she’d begun rolling back and forth on the desk. She appeared to be weighing something. After a moment, she said, “It all goes back to some things that happened a few years ago.”

  I leaned forward. Was I finally going to get the story on Tony’s father?

  Just then, my right hand began to throb. I looked down to find the sigil below my thumb pulsing away.

  “Need to be somewhere?” Vega asked.

  “The Upholders are calling me to meet.” Dammit.

  “Do you think the fae contact came through?”

  “No telling,” I said, standing. “I’ll let you know if I’m off anywhere.”

  “You better.” She set her pen to one side.

  I leaned over the desk and kissed her. We lingered there for a few seconds, longer than either of us meant to, it seemed, savoring our little refuge before the other parts of our lives intruded again.

  When we separated, Vega stroked my cheek.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” she said, referring to her and Tony. “Let me worry about the rest of my family.” Her dark eyes shone into mine. “We’ll talk more when you get back.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I kissed her again and she gave my cheek a final pat.

  Not wanting to, I yielded to the bond’s pull and left her office.

  21

  The rest of the Upholders were waiting at the townhouse when I passed through the potent wards and locked the door behind me.

  “What’s up?” I called toward the table where they were gathered.

  “Seay has an update,” Malachi said as I walked up, the sigil on my hand fading until it was faint lines in my skin again. When I took the spot beside Malachi, I noted how our arrangement mirrored our earlier vote: Malachi and me on one side, Jordan and Seay on the other, and Gorgantha at the end of the table, but on their corner.

  Fresh bitterness broke through me as I muttered, “All right, let’s hear it.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Enthusiasm.” Seay threw me a frown. “I contacted my friend, and she found someone in Faerie willing to get us into the time catch, like I said she would.” The emphasis was directed at me.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “A fae lord. Well, a former fae lord.”

  “Former?” I said. “He was excommunicated?”

  “More like shown from the kingdom under threat of death.”

  “So, excommunicated,” I said. “I’m not even going to ask for what. Why would he help us?”

  “Because my friend brings him delicacies from the kingdom from time to time. She felt he was dealt a shit hand.”

  “And he wants nothing in exchange?” I asked skeptically. “That doesn’t sound like the fae.”

  “Well, he wants to meet us for starters. His name’s Crusspatch. He has a place in the Fae Wilds.”

  “The Fae Wilds?” I was already shaking my head. “Forget it.”

  Jordan, who had been watching our exchange with a stern face, spoke up. “Why dismiss it out of hand?”

  “I think the name does a pretty good job of explaining itself.”

  “Have you ever been there?” he challenged.

  “No. I have too much at stake in something called my life.”

  “So you don’t know anything about it,” he said with finality.

  “Look, I know books aren’t your thing, but there are plenty of written accounts. The Fae Wilds are where the worst creatures of Faerie live and play: goblins, trolls, night hags. Assuming we get through the Wilds in one piece, we’d still have a disenfranchised fae lord to deal with, and on his home turf. I wouldn’t be surprised if living out in the wilds has made this Crusspatch screwy. There’s no telling what he’ll want.”

  “She did call him eccentric,” Seay said. “But in a fun way.”

  “Yeah, all the more reason to advise against that option,” I said. “Hard.”

  “Let me guess,” Jordan said. “You’re going to suggest we hunt Arnaud Thorne instead.”

  I wasn’t about to mention Caroline or my visit to the fae townhouse. It was a long shot, one. And two, I didn’t want to postpone action that could lead to freeing the Order, which would in turn lead to hunting down and eliminating the Strangers.

  “It’s our best course of action,” I said. “Once I distill the blood I collected at Arnaud’s penthouse, we’ll have a target. We’ll be able to hunt him.” My heart was already galloping at the thought.

  “How long will the distilling take?” Gorgantha asked.

  “Conservatively? Twenty-four hours.”

  Jordan grumbled his disapproval. “So a full day.”

  “In light of the new developments,” Malachi spoke up, “I suggest we put it to another vote.”

  “We already voted,” Jordan said. “The decision is bonded.”

  “Hence the word another,” I said. “If the fae lord were willing to come here, that would be one thing. But journeying through the Fae Wilds is madness. You guys have to trust me on this.”

  “Everyone for Everson’s plan?” Malachi asked, preempting further debate.

  His and my hands went up immediately, while the other three kept theirs down.

  Here we go again, I thought.

  “Seay’s plan?” Malachi said.

  While Jordan and Seay raised their hands, Gorgantha massaged the sigil on her webbing, eyes downcast.

  “Gorgantha,” Jordan prompted. “You can’t abstain.”

  Her orbs looked heavy as stones as she raised them toward him. “Look, guys. You know I’ve got your backs through thick and thin, but the Fae Wilds? That doesn’t sound like the kind of hood you want to get caught asking directions. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to side with Everson on this one.”

  I pumped a mental fist. Thank God for mer reason.

  “Then it’s decided,” Malachi said. “Let’s bond the new vote to the sigil so Everson can get started on the distillation.”

  But Jordan was staring past me, his pupils dilating. Seay followed his gaze and started back, fae light breaking around her. Gorgantha shot up from her bar stool, hulking arms bowed out to the sides.

  “Intruder!” Jordan shouted.

  I spun, sword and staff drawn. The figure was standing beside the door, his aura seeming to pull the shadows into a shroud around his slender form. There was no telling how long he’d been there, much less how he’d gotten past the wards, which showed no sign of breaching. The figure wore a hat with a brim and indented crown.

  And was that a scepter in his hand?

  Seay’s bolt flashed past me. The enchantment exploded where the intruder had been standing, but he wasn’t there anymore. Jordan shouted, sending a jet of druidic energy from his staff. The reveal spell broke throughout the basement space, but highlighted no one.

  I aimed my ring back and forth.

  “Spread out,” I whispered, still sensing a presence. “Malachi, hang back.”

  He did as I said, while the rest of us moved from the table. If this was Arnaud, he was making a ballsy move. He might have had an enchanted instrument that negated the Brasov Pact, but my ring, recently topped off at the safe house, was singing with interfaith power. At my word, the collective belief of billions would incinerate the son of a bitch. There would be nothing left to send to the pits.

  “Where’d that joker go?” Gorgantha muttered.

  “Lower your weapons, please,” a voice from behind us spoke.

  Malachi cried out in alarm. The rest of us spun as Malachi scrambled from the rema
terialized figure.

  “Liberare!” I shouted, thrusting my grandfather’s ring forward. Holy light gathered around my fist and released with a low boom that I felt down to the struts of my soul. The shaft of light enveloped the shadowy form, and dimmed.

  What the…?

  “Your weapons,” the intruder repeated in a refined voice.

  The handful of vine seeds Jordan flung at him were already sprouting by the time they landed. The druid’s magic sent the growths writhing up the figure, binding his legs and arms. Before I could stop her, Gorgantha lunged past me and swung a fist at his head. Though the intruder didn’t move, she missed high. Frustrated, Gorgantha grunted into her next two punches but they both sailed wide.

  In the next moment she was sitting on the floor, as if placed there by a force. Seay’s fae glow flickered down to nothing. Jordan thrust his staff toward the figure repeatedly, but no forces emerged. When I rattled off a series of invocations, it was as if the mental prism I used to channel energy had vanished.

  In desperation, Malachi heaved his Bible. It nailed the wall five feet to the intruder’s right and fell harmlessly to the floor.

  “Are you finished?” he asked.

  The vines wrapping him didn’t wither; they simply thinned to nothing. When he stepped forward, the shadow slipped from him. A distinguished-looking man with gray eyes peered back at us.

  “Osgood?” I stammered.

  The fae butler gave a small bow. “At your service.” He wasn’t dressed in his formal attire. Instead, he wore brown khakis and a denim shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly up his forearms. What I’d mistaken for a scepter was a slender field telescope. Vintage hiking boots and a felt hat with a leather band completed the expeditioner look.

  “Why didn’t you just announce yourself?” I asked.

  “I wanted to make sure I’d come to the right address.”

  The fae couldn’t lie, so on some level he was telling the truth. But his faint smile told me he’d enjoyed the sparring session. Jordan stepped forward, hands still clamped around his quarterstaff.

  “Who is this?” he demanded.

  Before I could answer, Seay said, “He’s fae.”