Caledonia Fae 05 - Elder Druid

by India Drummond

  He touched Douglas’ face. They’d never lain together alone or when sober, only enjoyed sex in groups and only under the influence of smoke or, in the faeries’ case, wine. But Tràth’s feelings for Douglas went beyond the drunken, lust-fuelled parties. The bond drew them together, but over time, they had grown to love each other. The passion stirred in Douglas as well, and Tràth knew the sentiment was mutual. Leaning across, he kissed Douglas, softly at first, but their ardour grew. Douglas placed a hand on Tràth’s chest, and the druid’s fingers snaked up to the back of his neck and into his hair.

  “Oh!” A voice came from the other side of the room. Douglas pushed Tràth away and stood. Aaron was backing toward the entry arch. “Sorry,” the other druid said. “I saw the girl leave, and I thought you were alone.”

  Douglas bellowed with fury and shouted at his friend, “Get the fuck out of here!”

  “Sorry,” Aaron repeated and spun around, beating a hasty retreat.

  Tràth stood, confused by the sudden anger burning through Douglas. Sure, they’d been drunk or high when they’d kissed before, but wasn’t this better? To express themselves without hiding behind intoxicants? Wasn’t this what Douglas had wanted, rather than their previous frivolous existence? “What’s wrong?” he asked Douglas and reached for his arm.

  Douglas jerked away. He threw off his robe and began to dress, putting on his usual kidskin clothing.

  “Douglas?” Tràth recoiled from the harsh emotions pumping through their bond. “Why are you ashamed of me? What have I done to make you feel this way?”

  Douglas sat on the far side of the room and shoved his feet into his boots. “I need to feed the Stone,” he said.

  Confusion and anger swept over Tràth. He knew Douglas cared for him. Before they’d been interrupted, he’d sensed not only the desire, but the love in their bond. Now, that love had dissolved into a crashing storm of shame and hatred. Bracing himself against the sudden swirling of his own out-of-control magic, he spoke between gritted teeth. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing is wrong with me,” Douglas said. “For one, I’m not a goddamned queer. The fucking bond is doing this to me. I only bonded with you because they thought you were going to die. They told me the bond would bring you back.”

  Tràth stood motionless, unable to think, and barely capable of breathing. With a shaken whisper, he stopped time. As immobilised as Douglas, he replayed every shared moment for the past two years, every conversation with or about Douglas. He paced back and forth through the galaxy of time as only a temporal fae could. He ignored the slowing of his heartbeat and the pain of extending his reach too long. Nothing he saw or heard in his near-perfect memory contradicted what Douglas had told him.

  They both had accepted that the bond had the ability to influence emotions and induce attraction. They’d been warned about the dangers early on. At the time, they had laughed it off. Tràth had been with many male and female faeries in his life. The caution hadn’t troubled him, as it had been given to warn him of the perils of becoming attracted to a human. Unlike most fae, he hadn’t thought twice about the conventions of the day, which told them humans were barely intelligent creatures, hardly capable of higher reasoning. He’d spent enough time in the human realm when he’d run away from his insane mother to understand the untruth behind the prejudice.

  Tràth had never considered for an instant the bond would be painful to Douglas, never once realised his druid hadn’t wanted to share the intimacies they had. Had the drugs merely been his way of coping with the unwelcome intrusion of the bond? He’d always seemed willing, often eager. He’d appeared to welcome the parties and revel in his newly unbounded sexuality.

  But the desire had been a lie, induced by the magic of their bond, a bond Douglas had not wanted. There was, of course, a way to break the bond. Doing so might send Tràth down the slow road to madness and death he’d been on before they met. Did he love Douglas enough to release him? Tràth cursed himself as a coward, the answer clear. He did love Douglas, but he wasn’t prepared to die to prove himself.

  He released the time stream but still didn’t move. His extended grip on the flows had weakened him, but he had no desire to show Douglas that frailty. He let Douglas’ shame and guilt wash over him as penance for his inability to do the right thing and release Douglas’ bond.

  The druid stood, hanging his head. “Goddamn it,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry.”

  “Go,” Tràth said, his voice thick and unsteady. “You have important work to do.”

  “Will you be all right?”

  The bond told Tràth the concern in Douglas’ voice was genuine, but he had no words to respond in kind. Tràth wouldn’t be all right. But he’d chosen his own life over Douglas’ happiness, so he had to press on. “I need a moment. If you’ll excuse me.” He met Douglas’ gaze with some difficulty. “Please.”

  Douglas hesitated, once again looking like the uncertain boy Tràth had met two years before. “Sure,” he said finally and walked through the main door.

  Although he knew his druid would sense his grief, for some reason, Tràth hadn’t wanted the other man to see even one tear fall.

  Chapter 4

  Rory sat in a comfortable corner chair while Huck browsed the shelves in the Hall’s library, which the druids jokingly called the archive. Unlike the complex that housed the Source Stone, this was a library in the human sense. Tall, wooden shelves bore mostly paperback novels the druids picked up on various trips to the human realm. These days, their trips were often to countries where English was not the primary language. Still, they managed to amass a large collection, usually by raiding the shelves of charity shops.

  Before moving to the Otherworld, Rory hadn’t been much of a reader. Instead, he preferred cinema or television. Now, without access to those things, he’d grown to appreciate books more. Novels were a particularly human art form. Faeries didn’t make up stories for amusement. Some of the fae scholars had asked to borrow novels from the druids’ library, and treated them with the respect one would a holy text. What they hoped to learn, Rory had no idea, but they seemed fascinated.

  Huck browsed the shelves, and Rory pretended to read. Mostly he was hiding from Flùranach. Usually they got on pretty well, but she’d taken to badgering him about completing the bonding. She’d said the ritual words, but he hadn’t. She complained that it had been a year and he still wouldn’t commit to their bond. He did love her, but something in him couldn’t completely trust her, not after what she’d done. So what if it had happened nearly two years ago? She wanted him to quit living in the past, to forget how she’d attacked him, forced him to bond against his will, how he’d been completely helpless in the face of her power. He wasn’t even entirely sure he trusted the love he felt for her. He wanted to, but perhaps wishing wasn’t enough.

  While he was pondering and turning another page he hadn’t read, Demi arrived.

  “Did you have the latest Lee Child?” she asked Huck.

  Huck turned at the sound of her voice and smiled. Rory felt for Huck. He was clearly smitten with the lovely German blood druid, but she didn’t seem to feel the same. “When did you start reading thrillers?” Huck asked.

  She shrugged. “I’ve read nearly everything else we have. You like them, so I thought I’d give them a try. They’re quite good.” She blinked as though she’d just noticed Rory. “Hello,” she said.

  Rory nodded. “Hey there.”

  “Hiding from Flùranach?” she asked with a grin.

  Rory coughed. “Of course not,” he said, but her knowing smile told him he wasn’t as clever as he thought.

  Huck gestured to a bookcase on the opposite wall. “I just put it back.” She tiptoed to reach the upper shelf.

  Poor guy, Rory thought. Huck had been relegated to the friend zone with Demi. Despite that, the pair seemed to enjoy spending time together. Her last relationship with a faerie who abused her for months ended with him hunting her and h
er family for years, then getting killed in her living room. Rory didn’t blame her for not pursuing a romantic entanglement. He sympathised with her trust issues.

  Huck selected a mystery novel Rory had bought on his last trip to Scotland. “The organisation here is atrocious,” the American druid said. “One of these days, I’ll get in a mood and sort this mess out.” Their collection had started out pretty well ordered, but each time one of them brought back a couple dozen new books, they went on an empty shelf rather than being sorted in any recognisable way.

  “Who is Annette Webster?” Demi asked.

  Huck spun around, and Rory looked up from his book. Demi stood, holding a card that had been stuck inside a novel. Huck walked over to her and gently took the card from her hand. “Thanks,” he said. “I wanted to keep that.” He slipped the card into his book and closed it.

  “Huck?” Demi said, frowning. “Who is she? A relative?”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “That’s a wedding invitation,” Demi said.

  Huck chuckled. “It is.”

  “The wedding is this coming weekend.”

  “Yep,” he said.

  “Don’t you want to go?”

  “There aren’t any gates to the States,” he said.

  “Hello? The Mistgate we just finished?”

  He shook his head. “Munro said we shouldn’t connect to North America. They call it The Bleak. The faeries are freaked out about something, and we haven’t figured out what. If they thought the Mistgate connected to The Bleak, they’d desert the Halls of Mist. His words, not mine. ”

  “So fly,” she responded. “I’m sure the others would agree to you using some of the money in the druid accounts for an important occasion like that. Don’t you think so, Rory?” she asked.

  Rory shrugged and turned another page. He really didn’t want to take sides. “I’m nae bothered either way.”

  “It’s too late. I probably couldn’t arrive in time,” Huck said.

  “I haven’t been to America, but I know it doesn’t take three days to get there.” Demi put a hand on her hip and gave a stubborn scowl.

  “They aren’t expecting me, Demi. I haven’t spoken or written to any of my family since I came here. I can’t just show up.”

  “Of course you can,” she said. “Why are you making excuses?”

  “Look at me. Do I look human to you?” He hadn’t begun to undergo changes until he’d touched the Source Stone. Now that he had, his ears had spiralling points and his skin had taken on a metallic sheen, as though he wore copper-tinted make-up.

  “So wear a hat and sunglasses,” she said.

  “In a church?”

  “What’s the real reason you don’t want to go? Hardly any of the others of us have family. I only have Lisle and Jago. Munro has only extended family. The others have no one.”

  Rory contemplated ducking out. Listening to these two argue about something so personal made him uncomfortable.

  Huck sighed. “Except for my sister, I don’t get along with my family. It wasn’t a difficult choice for me to leave my life behind and come here.”

  “Do you want to see her?” Demi asked. “It would mean a lot to her, I’m sure, if you went to her wedding.”

  Why she cared so much, Rory couldn’t understand. Maybe obsession with weddings was a woman thing.

  “If I did go, I don’t think I’d go to the wedding. Like I said, I can’t exactly wear sunglasses and a hat in church.” Huck shook his head. “It’s probably easiest for everyone if I stay away. I made a clean break.”

  Leocort stuck his head into the library. “Lady Druid Demi,” he said. “Forgive the intrusion. I wanted to remind you I’m spending the day today with my daughter at the Ashkyne Hall. If you think you might need me, I can change my plans.”

  “No,” Demi said, “You go. In fact, you can take a few days, if you like. Huck and I are going to America.”

  “What?” Leocort and Huck said at the same time. Rory grimaced. Huck hadn’t stood a chance.

  Demi put a hand on her hip. “His sister is taking a mate. He’s going to the ritual. I’m going along for moral support.”

  Huck stared at her.

  On the other hand, Rory thought, maybe Huck could use the situation to work on the friend zone predicament.

  “You mustn’t,” Leocort said quickly. “My lady druid, you should not travel to The Bleak.” He turned to Huck. “I implore you. It is incredibly dangerous.”

  “Seriously?” Huck said. “I grew up in America. It’s a lot of things, but not dangerous.”

  “The demons there could have driven our race to extinction,” Leocort explained. “The only way our people survived was through the destruction of the Danastai gates. The entire kingdom disappeared, and its people were annihilated. Tens of thousands of faeries died.”

  “How long ago did this happen?” Huck asked.

  The faerie tilted his head. “Over ten thousand years ago,” he said.

  Huck chuckled. “A lot has changed since then. There are no demons in America anymore. I think I would have heard.”

  Leocort sighed. “When are you leaving?”

  “I don’t know. The wedding is on Saturday. As soon as we can.”

  “I’ll need a couple of hours to organise a team of Mistwatchers. At least four, but I’d be happier with twelve.”

  “We’re flying,” Demi said. Leocort looked puzzled, so she elaborated. “Munro doesn’t want us to connect the Mistgate to the Americas, so we’re going on an aeroplane. A flying machine? The flight is a long one, too. At least half a day in the air.”

  The Mistwatcher paled.

  “Sorry, Leocort,” Huck said. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take you on a flight like that. The human government requires papers.”

  Despite his obvious fear of the idea of a flying machine, Leocort pressed on. “We’ll take Flùranach,” he said. “She can use her powers of illusion and persuasion to get us past their security.”

  Huck shook his head. “She isn’t available. She’s working with Rory.” When Rory opened his mouth to object, rather liking the idea of a couple of weeks on his own, Huck didn’t let him get a word in. “Even if she were, the human security uses machines to detect intruders. Even if she could fool all the eyes of the men around us, she couldn’t trick the machines. They’re immune to illusion.” Huck clapped Leocort on the shoulder. “Really, we’ll be fine. I promise you, America isn’t dangerous. Not any more so than any other human realm. Whatever these demons were, they must be gone.”

  Leocort bowed to the druids. “If you’ll excuse me.” He left quickly.

  Huck stared after him. “Well, that was strange and abrupt. What’s he going to do, do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Rory said.

  Demi smiled at Huck. “I’m sure Omi won’t mind taking care of Jago, but I should check. And I need to pack.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Huck’s cheek, gave Rory a wave, and flitted out of the room, looking pleased with herself.

  Huck followed her with a mutter, leaving Rory on his own. He cringed when he heard Flùranach’s voice calling to Huck, asking him if he’d seen Rory.

  Rory really wasn’t in the mood. He’d come in here just to get a breather. Sometimes they got along great, more than great, even. Other times, she wouldn’t leave him alone about bonding. She begged, argued, flirted, and cajoled. Occasionally she even refused to speak to him. She never stayed angry long, but Rory hated the drama. Couldn’t she just accept their relationship and enjoy it for a while? What was her bloody rush?

  She stepped into the library, her eyes fastening on Rory. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you were looking for Munro.”

  He stood. “I haven’t had a chance yet. I just stopped in to grab a book, in case we have any downtime while we’re staying in London.” He guided her out of the library. By tradition, only the druids went in there. He wanted to keep it that way. They needed someplace that was theirs alone.


  Flùranach batted her eyelashes. “Is reading really how you want to spend our downtime?”

  Relief washed over him. The fractious mood she’d been in earlier seemed to have dissipated. “Absolutely not,” he said. He kissed her, and she leaned into him.

  “Just think how much better everything will be,” she said in a low, sultry voice, “once we’ve bonded.”

  Rory stiffened. Bloody hell. “I need to look for Munro. The whole point in coming back was to tell him about Sheng.” Sheng was a Chinese translator from Australia and an air druid, according to Flùranach’s magical senses. They’d discovered him at London Heathrow airport, but only made initial contact. They planned to meet with him again later to reveal the truth about the Otherworld and invite him to join them.

  “I still think we should have just waited to tell everyone else after we convinced Sheng,” Flùranach said. “I don’t understand why you insisted on coming back here first.”

  He grumbled. He’d done so because he didn’t want to spend the six-hour gap alone with Flùranach, considering the mood she’d been in earlier. “We aren’t going to manipulate any new druid. If Sheng doesn’t want to join us, he doesn’t have to.”

  “Of course not,” Flùranach said. “But he’ll want to. Now that I’ve activated his dormant druidic powers, he’ll want to be part of the Hall.” She flashed Rory a smile. “No one can resist me long.”

  Rory sighed at her attempt at humour. It rankled, partly because he knew she believed what she said.

  “Come on,” she said. “It’s nearly time. You can talk to Munro tomorrow or the next day. There’s no rush.”

  “Fine,” Rory said, tired of arguing. “Can you promise me one thing, though? Could we just go this trip without talking about bonding?”

  Flùranach hesitated. “I thought it was good for us to talk about our feelings.”

  “We have,” Rory said. “I know how you feel, and you know how I feel. Now we need to let it rest for a while.” He sighed again.