Druid Justice

by M. D. Massey

  “Jesse! Funny meeting you here. Why can’t I see you this time?”

  Because you’re not dead yet, silly. But let’s not focus on that. Instead, tell me what you can see.

  “Well, this is pretty much like being in a druid trance, when I go deep like I’ve been doing lately. I can feel the grass beneath me, the insects and small animals in the earth, and the swallows and bats flying overhead.”

  Really? Now tell me something, slugger—what do they see?

  I extended my senses out, entering each creature to take in what they saw, smelled, and felt.

  “It’s just insects and rodents digging for dirt and food down here. Up above the birds and bats sense each and every air current, and they’re having a ball feasting on all the insects that have been drawn to the firelight.”

  And?

  “And—oh, my. I am so freaking dense, but you’re a genius.”

  Don’t be so hard on yourself. I see all the good you’re doing, and believe me, you’re making a difference. You just need a little help sometimes, is all.

  “Jesse, I still miss you. Even though I’m with someone else, I think about you every day.”

  I know. Now, go save your girlfriend, because she’s about to get herself killed.

  “Jesse, I—”

  GO.

  Jesse’s voice faded off with that last command, an imperative that reminded me just what was at stake. I focused in again on what was happening around me back in the here and now.

  Belladonna was running from the woods behind the house, crossing the lawn as she fired at random in the air above me. She was doing her damnedest to keep Gunnarson pinned down, but it wouldn’t work because he was nowhere near where she was shooting. As soon as her guns ran dry, he’d step out from behind cover and kill us both.

  Whatever magic Gunnarson was using, it allowed him to appear invisible and throw his voice as well. Whether it worked by bending light or by some other means, I wasn’t sure. But what I did know was that he was still present, because the bats knew exactly where he was—they’d been picking him up on sonar the entire time.

  Gunnarson was hiding behind a low wall near the driveway, just on the other side of me and opposite the direction from which Belladonna approached. Why he didn’t just grab a rifle from one of the dead and pick her off was a mystery; I could only assume it would give him away. Or, he just wanted the pleasure of slitting Belladonna’s throat instead.

  I was only going to get one shot at this, so I had to make it count. Bells was sprinting toward us shooting like an extra in a Bruce Willis movie, and when her pistol clicked on an empty chamber Gunnarson would cut her down. But he’d have to come near me to do it.

  I expanded my awareness, keeping watch on them both. Belladonna was still running and firing, changing out magazines on the move. Damn, but she carried a lot of spare ammo. Finally, she closed the distance and slid to a crouch beside me, dropping the gun and drawing a long knife in each hand.

  “I won’t let you touch him, you hear me?! You’ll have to come through me to get him!” Her lips curled back and she snarled in a fierce display of teeth and fangs.

  Fangs? I had to be hallucinating due to blood loss. Focus, McCool!

  Gunnarson’s voice echoed from somewhere off to the left. “I’ll gladly cut you down to get to him, Becerra,” he mocked. “I never did care for you anyway.”

  “Why, because I’m a woman?” she growled.

  “No, because you have a conscience,” he replied, this time throwing his voice so it came from the direction of the house.

  Bells turned around, leaving her back exposed to his sneak attack. Through the bats’ collective sonar, I sensed rather than saw him come out from behind the retention wall, strolling casually toward us with a longsword in his hand. I remained absolutely still, waiting for the right moment to make my move.

  Come on, sword—strike true for me today.

  Gunnarson reared back with his blade as he came into cutting range, obviously aiming to take Belladonna’s head off in one clean stroke. At that instant the sword flared to life, burning with an intensity that I’d never witnessed prior to that moment. The heat and light bathed me in their glow, the sword’s warmth filling me with strength. Even with my eyes closed the glare was blindingly bright, but that was okay—I didn’t need eyes to see my enemy.

  It’s now or never, McCool. Time to make this cock-gobbling knob-jockey pay.

  Gunnarson shielded his eyes from the light, and that gave me the opportunity I needed to strike. I rolled to my side and thrust upward, catching Gunnarson in the groin and driving the flaming blade up until the handle made contact. I felt almost no resistance until the hilt struck something solid, so I opened my eyes to see if I’d even hit my target at all.

  The blade above the hilt had disappeared, all except for the tip, which blazed brightly a few feet above my hand. Hot, wet fluid ran down the sword’s guard and handle, and the sour smell of piss mixed with the iron tang of blood filled my nostrils.

  “How…?” Gunnarson croaked. “Siegfried’s cloak… never failed its wearer. I pray for Hel to damn you, druid—”

  He fell then, wrenching the sword from my grasp. As I lost my grip, the sword’s flames extinguished immediately. I heard Gunnarson’s body hit the ground, followed by his dying gasp. Whatever magic that had been concealing him faded, revealing his corpse as he bled out on his perfectly manicured lawn. While it must have been invisible before, I now saw that he wore a dark, hooded cloak, of a style not commonly seen in the modern era.

  A real-life cloak of invisibility, I thought. I’ll be damned.

  Belladonna tackled me in a hug. “I thought you were dead, cabrón!” she shouted, showering me with kisses all over my face and neck.

  “I will be if you don’t stop this bleeding,” I said. “And, Bells? Be sure to grab his cloak—that thing is way too powerful for the Circle to have.”

  She laughed, a soft tinkling sound that warmed me despite the cold I felt now that the sword’s magic had faded. “Joder, por qué no te callas, mi amor?” she purred as she tweaked my nose.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means shut the fuck up and let me worry about shit like that,” she replied.

  “Holy crap! That was awesome!” Deets yelled.

  I turned my head just in time to see him and Dex sprinting across the lawn carrying a medical bag and flashlights. Bells directed them to assist her as she started an intravenous line and began bandaging my wounds.

  “Dex, did you get it?” I asked as I propped myself up on my elbows.

  “All of it, man. We got out of range of the EMP, then Kien hauled ass back here. The crazy fucker forced the gate open with the van so we could record the whole thing. I had the video and audio feeds broadcasting live to HQ, and uploaded copies and sent them to every operative and support technician in the organization.”

  I plopped back down, resting my head on the grass as I closed my eyes. “Then I forgive you for that comment you made about wanting to plow Bells.” I cracked an eyelid to look at him. “But don’t let it happen again.”

  Deets was wrapping gauze around my legs, and he tapped my knee to get my attention. “What I want to know is, how’d you know where to stab?”

  I pointed in the air above us. “Bats. Tapped into their sonar using druid magic.”

  “That is so freaking cool!” Dex declared.

  “Speaking of Kien, where’s the van?” Bells asked.

  “The wreckage is blocking the drive, and he said he didn’t want to get stuck,” Deets replied. “He’s waiting for us halfway down the driveway.”

  Belladonna’s voice was urgent as she spoke. “Guys, I think I hear sirens. We have to get the hell out of here before the authorities arrive.”

  About that time, I felt the distinct sensation of a magic portal opening nearby. I turned to look, reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there. A swirling blue circle of light appeared in the air a few feet away, and Finnegas
stepped out of it. His eyes looked cold, hard, and flinty as he began barking commands.

  “You!” he said, pointing at Dex. “Tell your friend in the van to meet us at Éire Imports—and don’t ask me for the address, because I know you can look it up on that bit of digital deviltry in your hand. Belladonna! You and this young man need to get Colin through that portal, now.”

  He turned and looked me right in the eyes. “And you—never mind, I’ll have words with you later.” He stormed off, casting spells left and right to cover up the mess we’d left, muttering under his breath all the while. “Damned crazy kid, has no idea the trouble he’s caused, no telling what will happen now. Be lucky he doesn’t start a war…”

  With Finnegas busy immolating bodies and removing all traces of our presence, Belladonna and Deets got me on my feet. I draped an arm over each of their shoulders, leaning on them heavily as I limped to the portal. I heard the squeal of tires in the distance, just as Dex came jogging up next to us.

  “Kien’s headed to meet us at the old man’s warehouse.” His eyes got huge as he approached the portal. The teen pushed his hand through it experimentally, pulling it back out and then through again. “Oh wow, this is incredible! I mean, I’ve heard of magically-formed wormhole phenomena, but I never thought I’d get to see one up close.”

  “Believe me, this is nothing,” Belladonna groaned as she struggled to support my weight. “Hang around Colin for a while and stuff like this becomes an everyday thing.”

  Finnegas’ voice boomed at a magically-enhanced volume. “Quit jawing at each other and get through that portal—now!”

  Dex yelped and jumped through the portal. Deets gulped audibly, so I tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear.

  “Don’t let the pissed-off Gandalf act fool you—he’s a big softie, once you get to know him.”

  Finn’s voice echoed even louder behind us as we entered the portal. “Call me that again, young man, and I’ll see to it that portal dumps you in the county lock-up!”

  “See what I mean?” I said. “A total softie.”

  Twenty-Four

  The next day, I woke up on a cot inside the hidden training room behind the warehouse at Éire Imports. Finnegas had worked on me for hours the night before, and between his druid goop and the trance magic, I’d healed rapidly. Bells and the nerd herd had stuck around until they got an all clear from Circle headquarters—along with a command to report immediately, “or else.”

  So there I was, alone with my memories. I pushed myself up to a seated position, extending and flexing my legs experimentally to make sure they still functioned. My hamstrings were tight, but it was nothing a few weeks of stretching couldn’t cure. I glanced around the place, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I took in the familiar sights and smells.

  I was in a large room that was well-lit by sunlight coming in from skylights above. Thick martial arts mats covered most of the floor, and cord-wrapped pells and wooden training dummies lined the walls. At one end of the room, an archery butt sat gathering dust. It even had a few arrows sticking out of the bullseye from the last time Jesse had practiced, just before our final fateful mission.

  I breathed deeply, hoping to catch the faintest whiff of her scent, but all I got was a hint of mold and dust—along with the underlying locker room smell that had permeated the mats after years of sweat and abuse. I sighed heavily and allowed my eyes to wander once more.

  There were the punching bags we’d spent hours pummeling together after school, day in and day out. Over there were the wooden practice swords we’d beaten into splinters, sparring each other and practicing partnered fighting patterns until they were burned into our reflexes. And here was the cot where we’d lain together after practice, sweat-drenched from more than just our time on the mats.

  Just when I thought I’d gotten over her, she’d show up again to remind me how much I still loved her… and how much her absence still hurt.

  “You saw her again, didn’t you?” It was Finnegas, leaning in the doorway with a steaming cup of coffee. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb—but I heard you stirring and I know what a pain in the ass you are without caffeine in the morning.”

  He approached me and handed me the mug. I took it without comment.

  “How are the legs?” he asked, avoiding bringing attention to the fact that I hadn’t answered his question.

  “I’ve not tried standing yet, but they seem to be working fine.” I glanced over at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. “You look like shit. Did you really need to cast that portal spell?”

  He sat down heavily on the cot next to me. “I did, as you well know. If the cops didn’t get you then the Circle would have. And believe you me—they’d be trying to shut all five of you up for good, if those boys hadn’t recorded and broadcasted the whole damned thing.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, me enjoying the coffee and Finnegas enjoying the rest. I looked at the target again, remembering how Jesse always bested me with a bow and arrow.

  “I spoke with her last night while I was under. I’d have died if she hadn’t helped, but this morning—” I let my words trail off, unwilling to finish the thought.

  “You wish she hadn’t shown up at all?” Finnegas asked. I nodded, pursing my lips and hanging my head as my eyes filled with tears. The old man placed a firm hand on my shoulder, squeezing it and patting my back.

  “It never gets any easier, son. Not even after two thousand years do I feel the loss of loved ones any less than I did when I was your age. Death was common back then, you know, which was one of the reasons I apprenticed under The Dagda when he started our order.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that little nugget of information, but sipped my coffee and remained silent. Interrupting would only mean that I’d never get the rest of the story—and besides, I felt more like listening than talking at the moment.

  “He didn’t mention it, did he—that he was my teacher, and I, his first apprentice?” Finnegas stretched his legs out in front of him, joints cracking. “Well, he wouldn’t. He’s a crafty old bastard, that one.”

  “He said the same thing about you,” I said softly.

  Finnegas drew himself up, scratching his beard. “Hmm, yes, well—he always was a hypocrite, if a well-meaning one. Damned fine teacher though, and the reason I still sit before you now.”

  “How so?”

  “In order to get him to agree to teach me the ways of druidry, he made me promise to keep the knowledge alive—and he taught me how to cheat death. But I outsmarted him. The Dagda envisioned an army of druids, going forth to the four corners to work magic in his name. But after the rest of the druids died off, I kept the knowledge alive by teaching just one or two students at a time. Pissed the old trickster off good. Serves him right.”

  I considered how much Finnegas must have despised the Tuath Dé and his fellow druids, to allow the order to dwindle to nothing when he was supposed to be its keeper. It made me wonder why he chose to take on pupils, even now in his very old age.

  “Finn, do you think the world is a better place without the druid order around?”

  He frowned slightly, then his expression softened. “I think the world is a better place with the right druid in it,” he said, tapping me with one gnarled finger on my breast. “Empathy, my boy, empathy for others and a desire to provide justice for the common folk. That’s what they lacked. And that’s why you will succeed where I failed. That is, so long as you allow me to pass on the fullness of my knowledge before I’m gone.”

  As I sat there with the old man, I realized what our relationship really meant to me. Finn was dying, there was no doubt about that, yet he gave no thought to expending magic he needed to extend his life in order to preserve mine. I’d held it against him that he’d deeply mourned the loss of a girl he’d thought of as his own daughter. Yet he’d forgiven me for being the one who’d taken her away from him.

  And despite the fact that I’d
rejected his tutelage before, he’d eagerly taken me back as his student, without showing a shred of hesitation or resentment. In light of that, I didn’t think I’d ever have a friend or mentor as good as the one who sat next to me. That was a fact.

  “I’d be honored, Finnegas the Seer. It would be my honor to have you pass on your knowledge to me.”

  He patted me on the shoulder again as he stood. “That’s good, because as soon as you feel strong enough to stand, the bathroom in the lobby needs cleaning. Hop to it, oh worthy apprentice.”

  Later, after I’d helped Finnegas clean and straighten the place up, I went out to the patio behind the warehouse to sit and think. It was an enclosed space—more like a garden, really, with a few chairs, lots of flowers, shrubs, a few tall trees for shade, and not much else. I’d often sat there as a teen, thinking about things or just letting my mind wander… and wonder at the strange turn my life had taken.

  I had just sat down with a cup of coffee and a nice pastry when a large raven flew down and perched on the back of the chair next to me. It eyed me with curiosity, and I returned the favor. We stared at each other like that for a time, until I tore off a piece of my cherry turnover and tossed it over to him. The raven snatched it out of the air, choking it down before shaking his feathers out from head to tail.

  Then, the damned thing opened its beak and spoke. “Colin McCool, druid apprentice, god killer, shape shifter, curse bearer, traveler of realms distant and arcane, wielder of the Fomorian’s eye, and slayer of the last of King Gunther’s line… you are now summoned to attend a conclave of the High Council of the Cold Iron Circle, to be held at squawk—”

  Finnegas had snuck up on us somehow, snatching the bird by the neck with both hands. The bird flapped its wings and made a ruckus for several seconds, until finally it decided it was caught and there was nothing to be done about it. Once it had settled down, Finn turned the bird around, staring it right in its eyes.