A Gilded Cage (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 1)

by Auburn Tempest

  “Let’s hope he remains a secret.” Such a pessimist griper. “And yer recovered from the accident?”

  With the contents of the box unpacked, I break it down to put in the cardboard recycling bin with the others. “Mostly. The left side of my face is a pretty gross yellow from slamming against the window during the rollover, but I’ll survive.”

  “Ye know, they have an invention to keep that from happening. It’s called an airbag. Perhaps I’ll send yer Da a quick text suggestin’ that yer next car be up to safety standards.”

  The brass bell rings over the door, and I straighten. “Okay, that’s my cue. I gotta get back to work.”

  “It’s early to be at the pub, isn’t it?”

  “It would be, but no. This morning, I started working part-time for Myra at the bookstore. You’ve told me a million times I have a lot to learn. I figure spending time here with her, surrounded by magical books, and talking to magical folks, I’ll learn tons.”

  “And at the same time, soak in the ambient magic.”

  “You got it. Later, surly. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  Sloan laughs on the other end of the line. “Me too. Try not to get dead yerself.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  Myra sweeps in from the front of the store carrying two Tim Horton’s coffees and a box of Timbits. A celebration tribute, she called it, for the beginning of my new job. “Vanilla chai latte for you and a medium double-double for me.”

  “Awesome. Perfect,” I respond, in lieu of thanks. With no idea what Myra is and not on close enough terms to ask, I err on the side of caution to not create a bond of gratitude with another fae.

  “I brought ye something else too.” She clears the aisle and steps aside to reveal my father following her. “Found him outside staring at the building looking confused.”

  “Hi, Da. What’s up?”

  His scowl of worry is firmly locked in place. “My daughter left me a note that says she’s starting work in a magical bookshop instead of stayin’ home and out of trouble. Since this is where she was attacked last week and forced to kill two men sent to kill her, I thought I had the right to come and check things out.”

  I crack the plastic tab on the lid and take a sip. “I expected as much, and already told Myra what to expect and to keep an eye out for you.”

  “That predicable, am I?”

  “That dependable.” I chuckle and offer him a donut. “So, official intros. Myra, this is my father, Niall Cumhaill. Da, this is Myra.”

  He dips his chin. “Yer a meliae, are ye not?”

  Myra smiles. “Fiona said you left the life over forty years ago. I’m surprised you picked up on that so quickly.”

  “My father is Lugh Cumhaill, Master Shrine-Keeper of the Ancient Druid Order. I suppose some of his meta-composition runs in my veins. I don’t forget much.”

  “No. I don’t suppose you would.”

  I watch the exchange, not sure what to make of it. There is tension in the air, and they’re sizing one another up, but I can’t tell if it’s going well or not.

  “What’s a meliae?” I wonder aloud.

  “An ash tree nymph,” Da informs me.

  I brighten. “So, the tree in the back?”

  Myra nods. “That is my home tree, yes.”

  “Cool. My grandparents have a tree in their house, too.”

  Myra takes the lid off her coffee and pours it into a wooden mug with an intricate handle. “It’s not uncommon for nature folk to include established growth in their homes. It speaks to the kind of people they are.”

  Da is watching Myra, and he seems to conclude that she’s worthy enough to spend time with me because he relaxes and looks around. “Fi says ye’ve been here almost a half-century?”

  “That’s right. The builders were moving up this block and had designs to cut down my tree. We saw things differently. In the end, I won. I bought out this section of the block and designed a building to encompass my tree.”

  “Nice.” I pop a chocolate glazed Timbit into my mouth. Soft and sweet, the beauty of Timbits is that the little round balls of donut perfection are the perfect size to pop in your mouth. “Way to fight the man, Myra.”

  Da crosses his arms over his chest, and I roll my eyes. This is his standard interrogation stance. Here it comes. “The fight that took place in here where Fiona fought for survival. Have ye any idea who the men were?”

  “No. It was the first I’d seen them.”

  “How did they find this place, do you suppose?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” She blows across the surface of her coffee. “There were three of them. I only saw the two Fiona left behind. Maybe the third knew where the shop is.”

  “Fi says yer spell allows only those who need yer wares to find ye.”

  “That’s right.”

  I swallow. “Then maybe they felt they needed to find me and gained access because I was here?”

  I see by the look on Da’s face he doesn’t buy that. “I knew where ye said the shop was, but couldn’t see past the fog of the spell to come inside. In fact, I was havin’ a hard time fightin’ the urge to move along. I think the logic of the third knowing where is sound. He likely brought the other two.”

  “Show her the picture of Skull Trim. Maybe she’ll recognize him.”

  Da reaches inside the lapel of his jacket and pulls out the sketch Kevin drew up for us last week. None of us recognized him, and we haven’t had any luck figuring out who he is or why he has such a hate-on for our family.

  Myra holds the sketch at arm’s length. It doesn’t take more than a glance, and she hands it back. “Him I know. He’s been here a good many times. He goes by the moniker Barghest.”

  I swallow my drink and grab another glazed chocolate ball of bliss. Da doesn’t look happy. “What am I missing?”

  “Barghest isn’t a name. It’s a mythical, monstrous dog that serves as an omen of death.”

  “There’s no way that works out in our favor. So, that’s why you said moniker and not name.”

  Myra nods. “I can’t imagine anyone having that as a natural surname, no.”

  “Barghest,” Da muses. “All right, well that gives us something more than we had. I don’t suppose he’s paid for any purchases with a credit card or ordered anything delivered that we might be able to trace back?”

  Myra shakes her head. “No.”

  I recall something she mentioned. “Has he ever given you his number? You said you never forget a number.”

  “No.”

  “Do ye recall what he’s purchased?” Da urges. “Maybe if we can’t find where he is, we can discern what he’s up to.”

  Myra sets her coffee down and pulls a large black ledger from under the counter. “That I can tell you. I track what brings back all of my repeat customers.” She flips to the back of the book and flattens the page open. “Here you go.”

  Da looks over the list, his finger running down the page. “Would you mind if I take a picture of this?”

  “If it helps you find the man responsible for invading my home and attacking my guests and me, you’re welcome to anything you need.”

  Da takes the picture and checks that it’s in the gallery. “Very helpful. What time are you finished, Fi? I’ll have Kyle and one of yer brothers come to pick ye up.”

  The rest of my week is split between the bookshop and home. With Barghest, a.k.a. Skull Trim still at large, when we’re not working, we stick close to home. Calum’s been staying at Aiden’s to help cover Kinu and the kids. Dillan’s been working day shift and spending his nights at Shenanigans watching over Kady, and that leaves Emmet and I reading the spells in Beauty and trying to become proficient before we’re attacked again.

  “Fuck me.” Emmet flops back on the grass of our backyard and stares at the gray sky. Summer is hanging on by a thread, the late October chill threatening to drain the last of our autumn warmth. “Nothing happened.”

  “Don’t worry about it.�
� I try not to let my disappointment show. “We still don’t have enough fae energy to do three-quarters of these spells.”

  “We need more power!”

  “I’m givin’ her all she’s got, Captain!” I flop on the grass beside him and stare up at the clouds. “I’m sorry it’s so much less fun for you guys than it was for me in the beginning.”

  “It’ll come, Fi. In the meantime, we can kill it at a party.”

  “I wish you could feel how it was at Gran’s and Granda’s. There, you can feel the potential energy pulsing from the ground and trees and wildlife. It’s in the air and fills your lungs with this tingle. It’s like living life on a whiskey buzz.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever come close to that here?”

  “I did. In true Taurus form, I thought I could bull my way through any obstacle. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Three-legged dog.” Emmet points at a cloud overhead. “I miss Brenny.”

  I take his hand in mine and squeeze. “Me too.”

  The rumble of a big truck coming down the back lane has us both sitting up. When the brakes squelch right behind our house and four burly guys spill out of the cab, we both roll to our feet.

  “Can I help you?” Emmet meets them before they open the gate.

  The guy with an electronic pad looks down and taps his screen. “I’ve got a work order here for trees to be planted, a prefab gazebo to be constructed, a koi pond dug, and there’s a note here to landscape the yard to the point of being lush.”

  Emmet and I lock gazes, and we’re both bewildered.

  “Who ordered it?” I ask.

  “Name on the invoice is Kyle Cumhaill. Name on the credit card is listed as Calum Cumhaill, the same address. Are either here? Can I get one of them to sign off?”

  Can my grizzly bear sign your work order? No.

  “I’ll sign for them.” I take the iPad and remove the stylus. I look at the total and grimace. Damn. I’m sure Calum didn’t mean for the druid thing to cost him that much.

  “Do you know what you want where, or would you like Garish to help you? He’s our landscape designer. With such a big job, he tends to come along to see if he can be of help.”

  I hand him back the signed work order. A pickup truck pulls in behind the landscape truck, and another guy with three girls in the same uniforms join the fun.

  “Holy shit,” Emmet says.

  “True story.” I nod. The one talking to us is staring. Right, he asked me a question. “Yeah, sure. By all means, let’s talk to Garish.”

  “We needed it,” Kyle growls that night. He stayed out of sight for the entire day but finally materialized for dinner. “After centuries of living in the Blessed Isle, I’m accustomed to a certain level of ambient energy. I’m not expecting things to be the same here, but if we can dial up the power a notch or two, we need to try. Ye’ll never be the druid yer meant to be if ye can’t put fuel into yer tank. I talked to Sloan about it, and he agreed.”

  “How did you talk to Sloan about it?”

  My bear sways his head and crinkles his nose at me. “He called while ye showered a couple of days ago.”

  “And you answered my phone?”

  He gives me what I assume is a feigned look of indignation. “What, I’m not allowed to check on him after he almost died? We escaped prison together. We hung out in yer happy place together. He’s grown on me.”

  Liam stops in mid-process of stacking the dirty plates and scowls. “Wait. Go back. What does that mean, Sloan hung out in your happy place?”

  Cue the arched brows around the room.

  Dillan’s catcall whistle cuts the tension. “Are you holding out on us, Fi? Are you and McSurly doing the dance of twenty toes?”

  “Seriously? No. It’s not like that with him.”

  They all let out scoffing laughs.

  “It’s not.”

  “Does he know that?” Liam sets the plates on the counter. He turns his back on the sink, leans against the edge, and crosses his arms. “From my seat on the sidelines the week he was here, that’s exactly what it looked like.”

  Okaaay, Liam is genuinely mad.

  I want to wave away the crazy, but don’t want to dismiss Liam’s feelings. I haven’t had any quality alone time with him since I got back. In all honesty, I’ve been too wrapped up in my life changes to notice what’s going on with him. “Did I do something to piss you off? What am I missing?”

  “Do you really want to know? Are we doing this?”

  “Hey! Who wants to see the backyard?” Calum grabs his beer and stands. Emmet and Dillan jump out of their seats like their asses are on fire to follow.

  “Come on, Bear.” Emmet hustles him out of the room. “Let mom and dad fight in private.”

  I’m standing there, feeling like someone fast-forwarded through the movie of my life, and I missed a critically important part. “Why are the rats abandoning ship? What’s going on?”

  Liam’s body language is closed and hostile, and I don’t like it. I step right up in his grill and force him to look at me. “If I did something, and there’s something you need to get off your chest, spill it. I know we haven’t had time—no, change that—I haven’t made time since I got home, but—”

  He moves so fast I don’t register anything until—holy hell, he’s kissing me.

  For the briefest moment, my sense abandons me, and I enjoy it. Liam’s a good kisser. His lips are soft yet firm, and the anger he feels tingles through me with heady passion.

  Then my senses return.

  I step back, a hand on his chest as I catch my breath.

  He stares at me and doesn’t seem any less annoyed. “Say something.”

  I swallow and try to think. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No. I uh… I just don’t understand.” There were times in my late teens when I wondered what it would be like with Liam. But then, the family ties overruled, and the curiosity passed. “What changed?”

  There’s a tentativeness in him I’m not used to. We’ve always been at ease with one another. “When you left without a word, I was angry and hurt. Then you went missing…”

  Gawd, this again. “I’m sorry. I hate that you all suffered through that, but I didn’t have a say in the matter.”

  “I get that, but during those weeks, it dawned on me that we’re more than an extended family. You and I have always been a good team, but by the time I figured out there was more, you were gone.”

  “But I’m back.”

  “Yeah, and when you came back, I wanted to talk to you about it. Every time I came near you, he was here. You may not realize it, Fi, but you’ve got a crazy, chaotic draw to you. I don’t blame Sloan for getting caught up in it, but I was caught in it long before him.”

  My mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and I feel like a goldfish.

  His mouth quirks up in a crooked smile. “You can’t tell me you never thought about it.”

  I pull a chair under my ass before my knees give and I end up on the kitchen floor. “Sure, I’ve thought about it.”

  “And?”

  I run my fingers through my hair and try to draw enough oxygen into my brain to say the right thing. “I agree we’re a great team and I love everything about you. I think… It’s just the past couple of months have been a lot. With all the changes, I’m not in the headspace for dating. Not you or Sloan or anyone. I’m focused on my druid stuff. That’s my passion right now.”

  Liam nods. “That’s fair. And it’s cool. Consider the door open if or when you’re ready to walk through it.”

  “And if I want to remain besties and family?”

  He shrugs. “We’re a lock either way.”

  Liam bends and kisses my forehead. It’s a chaste brush of his lips. Then he grabs his beer and heads out to join my brothers in the yard.

  I take a long swig of my beer and close my eyes. “Okay, so that happened.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The ne
xt day when Da and the boys are working, Liam hangs out with Kady and me and plays the part of our chauffeur. Thankfully, it’s not weird. He’s the same Liam he’s always been, and I’m relieved. The two of us drop Kady off at Shenanigans for the lunch shift. Then he takes me to the emporium for my mid-day start with Myra. “You can’t see it, can you?”

  I watch as he squints at the storefronts. His brow is pinched, and his eyes narrowed. He gets the same look on his face when one of his migraines is taking hold.

  “Don’t hurt yourself. I wondered.”

  He abandons the attempt and breaks his gaze. “No. I don’t see it. I think I should be going.”

  “That’s normal. Myra’s spell has a bit of a get along now kick to it.” I gather my purse and my snack bag and get out. “Thanks for the ride. You’re working the bar tonight?”

  “Yeah, nine until close.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I stride toward the shop, relieved that the romance issue is over, and I can focus on being the first urban druid to figure out what it takes. One thing about Ireland is that there are ley lines that create access points and a transfer of energy.

  “I need something like that in Toronto,” I tell Myra twenty minutes later. “Have you ever been to Ireland? The feel of the magic is so different there.”

  I pull the last of a half-dozen books from the shelves—a regular customer called in the order and will be by to pick it up before three—and take them up for Myra to double-check and wrap up.

  “Never been.” Myra uses the pricing gun to ring in the books. “I get my strength from my home tree. As long as he thrives, I thrive.”

  I think about the landscaping work Kyle instigated. For all the pushback I gave him, he’s not wrong. We need it.

  “Hopefully, that will work for us, too. You should see my backyard. I thought Da was going to shit bricks when he came home last night. He’s been good about the whole thing, though…considering.”

  “Considering?”

  I shrug and straighten the spines of some new arrivals. “Considering I became a druid against his wishes, got my four brothers caught up in it, am taking over the backyard, have a grizzly bear living in the house, and generally smashed to bits any sense of normalcy and order he established over the past forty years.”