by Meg Anne
Only slightly mollified, Lucas nodded for him to continue.
“As I was saying… Leland’s Binding: a spell to contain and conceal.” As he spoke, Giles’ hands made a motion as if tracing a symbol in the air. Lucas wondered if it was the accompanying rune. “And here in the margins it says ‘to prevent that which should not be found or discovered from being accessed by the unworthy’.”
“Well that sounds fucking useful,” Matthews muttered.
Lucas nodded in agreement. “No kidding. How do we use it?”
Giles stared at Lucas over the tops of his glasses. “You must first have the proper bloodline, laddy. Then it would simply be a matter of drawing the rune and speaking the activation word to infuse it with your intention.”
Lucas stared him down, fighting the impulse to admit that he did, in fact, have the prerequisite bloodline.
“What activation word?” Lizzie asked.
“Naisg.”
“God bless you,” Matthews said immediately.
Giles scowled.
“Say that one more time, slowly for me,” Lucas ordered, trying not to laugh as Matthews smirked.
“Nas-gad-h,” he repeated.
Lucas tried out the unfamiliar word until Giles nodded that he was more or less correct. “Alright, what else?”
Giles shrugged. “That’s as far as I’ve gotten. If you’d let me take this home—”
“Absolutely fucking not,” Lucas shouted.
The other man lifted both of his brows, but appeared otherwise unflustered. “In that case, do you mind if I stay awhile? Under your supervision, of course.”
Lucas glanced at Matthews and Lizzie, who shrugged. That was easy enough to translate, they were saying it was up to him. Frustration rolled through him. He wanted this guy out of here so they could get to work warding the place and he could share what he knew of Skye’s vision with the others. If he wanted more answers, however, it seemed prudent to let the old bastard stay awhile longer.
“Fine,” he agreed tersely. “But no funny business.”
Giles nodded once and went back to scanning the pages, but there was no mistaking the self-satisfied smile that curved his lips.
Lucas studied him a while longer, not sure what to make of the expression. Matthews caught his eye, and Lucas tilted his head to the side. With a nod, Matthews rose and walked over to where Lucas stood.
“Sup?”
“I need you to keep an eye on our friend here while I take care of some things in the rest of the house.”
Matthews lifted a brow. “I wanna know?”
Lucas lifted his palm and trailed a finger along the barely healed cut that ran from the base of his thumb to his pinky.
“Gotcha,” Matthews said. “Not a problem.”
“Thanks.” Lucas placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “For everything.”
Matthews’ hazel eyes met his. They shared the gaze for a moment, years of friendship and understanding conveying so much more than words ever could.
“Always.”
Lucas slapped Matthews’ shoulder once and disappeared back through the hallway.
Time to finger paint.
Lucas stared down at the blade in his hand and the paper he’d drawn the ward symbols on. This fucking sucks. No matter how many times he’d sliced his hand open at this point, it never got any easier.
He stood in Pop’s room, surrounded by silence. Warding had been a lot more entertaining with Skye beside him, mocking his hesitation and pushing him to proceed. Now, he was having a really hard time getting motivated to spill his own blood.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. The bite of the blade as it sliced through his skin made him wince, but he finished it off and stared down at the pooling blood. I’m going to have one hell of a scar by the time this is all over.
He dipped his finger into the blood on his opposite hand and began to paint the symbols on the wall. Seeing them take shape, and knowing their meaning, gave him a sense of peace. Soon they would be safe, even if the Druid managed to find them.
There was no way he was going to screw it up this time, not when they were so close to finding something in that black book to bring the bastard down.
Once he’d finished in Pop’s room, he moved onto the hallway, then he crept into Skye’s room, warding each exterior wall, before sneaking back out. The process went until he’d finished every room but the kitchen, living room, and study.
Since they still hadn't managed to crack open the study, Lucas painted a ward on the door, as well as the walls on either side, not wanting to miss anything like he had at Lizzie’s diner and apartment.
His hand throbbing, he stepped into the living room.
Giles was still buried in the book. Lizzie and Matthews sat nearby, just out of earshot. Lucas made his way over to them, keeping his wounded hand hidden behind his back.
“What have you been up to?” Lizzie asked.
“Warding the house,” Lucas whispered.
“Have anything to do with Skye passing out?” Matthews asked.
Lucas nodded. “She saw our new friend die.”
Lizzie paled. “How does he know about Giles?”
“It’s possible he doesn’t yet. She’s not sure exactly when he dies, just that eventually he will.”
“But it’s always been within a matter of days when she’s had her visions concerning him,” Lizzie murmured.
“Unless we can stop it,” Matthews said tightly.
“Which we will,” Lucas added. “Hopefully.”
They looked over at Giles in unison. He read through the book carefully, making notes on a notepad in his lap.
“Do you need us to get him out of here so you can do your thing?” Matthews asked, eying Lucas’ still dripping hand.
“Yeah. I just have in here and the kitchen left and then he can come back in.”
“On it,” he said before stepping away. “Hey, Giles?”
Giles looked up from the book.
“Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?”
The man’s face scrunched up, and he looked out into the dark and then back at Matthews. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it any less important to get some air though. Come join us on the back porch.”
Obviously confused, the man stood, still gripping the notepad and book. “All right. I suppose some fresh air would be nice.”
Matthews smiled at him and gripped Lizzie’s hand. “Awesome.” He turned back to Lucas and whispered, “Just let us know when we’re good to come back in.”
“Will do.” Lizzie and Matthews followed Giles outside, and Lucas shut the curtains so the man wouldn't look in and see him finger painting with his own blood. He imagined that would definitely raise some eyebrows, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself.
“All right,” he muttered, “nearly at the finish line, MacConnell.” He looked at his hand and sighed. He hissed as he stretched his hand, releasing flesh blood. He was getting really fucking tired of bleeding.
After painting symbols on the one exterior wall in the kitchen and triple-checking he didn’t miss any, he moved onto the living room.
Two more to go. Lucas finished the two walls, then wrapped his hand in a clean cloth.
“All right,” he said, lifting the symbol paper that had his magic word written on it in black ink. He smirked, remembering the way Skye laughed when he’d shouted shazam the first time they’d tried this. Thoughts of her filled him with purpose and he refocused on the word. “Ingair.” He spoke with confidence and watched as the runes pulsed blue just like before.
He smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment that he’d done something productive in ensuring their safety. The feeling faded as quickly as it came.
The wards changed, and his sparking blue was quickly swallowed up by black. Lucas blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was real. It was. What was left of the runes began to pulse with the new color, moving on the walls with each beat as
if they were alive.
“What the fuck?”
Buzzing filled his ears. It rattled him so badly that he fell to his knees, clutching his head. The door burst open and Giles, Matthews, and Lizzie ran into the room.
“What in the hell have ye done ye bloody fool!” Giles yelled.
Skye screamed his name, and slid to her knees beside him. “Lucas!”
Giles spun in a circle, staring at the walls. “Did you do that on every single wall in this house?”
Lucas nodded, still clutching his head.
“You fecking idiot.” Giles grabbed Lucas’ hand and hauled him to his feet. For his age, the man was surprisingly strong. “Ye had damn well fix this. Now,” he said, as he dragged Lucas through the house and toward the study.
He turned Lucas’ injured palm up and pulled a small blade from his pocket. After slicing a fresh cut beside the one that was still bleeding, Giles looked up at him. “Ye had best do as I say, exactly as I say it.”
Lucas nodded, in too much pain to argue.
“Take yer blood and draw an X through this ward.”
Lucas did as he said, the buzzing still damn near paralyzing him.
“Hold him up! He has to do it!”
Matthews gripped Lucas’ elbow, and Skye held the other. Lucas looked down at her wide amber eyes, filled with fear, and forced himself to focus.
“Good,” Giles said once Lucas was done. “Now repeat after me: cealaigh.”
“Cealaigh,” Lucas muttered, his brain feeling like someone had taken a battering ram to it. As soon as the word was out of his mouth, the buzzing stopped.
“How the hell did you know to do that?” Skye asked Giles, her eyes narrowed and her voice icy.
Had he not been on the verge of vomiting from the pain, Lucas would have asked the same thing.
Giles ignored her, his focus on Lucas. “Ye have no fecking clue what ye’ve just done.”
Chapter 15
Skye
Skye’s heart thundered in her chest and she gasped for air as she stood beside Lucas. She’d been dead asleep when her bed had jolted and a sound like thunder rolled through the room. Without any thought for her safety, she’d bolted upright and sprinted down the hall toward the living room, knowing instinctively that the others would be there.
Seeing the flickering wards and a wounded Lucas had done nothing to calm her fraying nerves. Giles’ cryptic threat was doing even less.
“What the fuck does that mean?” she demanded.
He turned his moss-green eyes on her, blinking owlishly a few times as if the answer should be obvious. “If you wanted the bastard to know ye were here, why not just invite him over for some tea? It would have been safer.”
Grimacing, Lucas twisted toward Giles and snapped, “Who are you talking about?”
“Don’t play daft with me, laddy. Ye know who I am speaking of.”
Lucas’ eyes narrowed, his lip curling up into a menacing snarl, while sweat rolled off his brow. “How do you know who he is?”
Giles tilted his chin defiantly. “Because I am partially responsible for creating him.”
“You what?” Lucas roared, dropping Skye’s hand to wrap a fist around Giles’ throat. He slammed the older man into the wall, leaning down until their noses nearly touched. “Start talking.”
“Lucas,” Skye warned, as Giles’ face began to turn purple.
Lucas flexed his fingers, but loosened his grip. “Talk,” he growled.
Giles gasped for breath, but he never looked away from Lucas. “We were friends,” he said heavily. “When it became clear what he was turning into, we sent…” Giles wheezed, “Wasteland.”
The blood rushed from her face. “The Druid escaped from the Wasteland?” she whispered, horrified. No wonder he was such a psychotic fuck.
Lucas zeroed in on a different fact. “What does that have to do with this house? What happened with the wards?”
Giles seemed to shrink in on himself. Whatever secrets he was keeping, he did not want to relive them. “We tried to stop him, but we were too late. He was after the power, ye see. He warded the house to know if one with the blood stepped foot here. When ye made the wards, ye created a beacon. It’ll bring him right to ye. By mixing yer blood with the remnants of his wards, he’ll be able to track ye wherever ye go now.”
“Fuck!” Lucas roared, slamming his free fist into the wall beside Giles’ head, causing the man to flinch and the wall to crack. Fresh blood began to drip from his already wounded hand.
Skye slid down the wall until she sat on the floor. There was no way she could save any of them. They were on borrowed time now. The Druid was coming. He might already be here.
“Who’s ‘we’?” Matthews demanded, his voice quiet in the echo of Lucas’ rage. Giles shook his head, wilting further. “Doesn’t matter. They’re all dead. I’m the only one left. I’ve been the watcher for the last twenty-five years. Keeping my eye on this place so I would know if evil had indeed returned.”
“What happened to our grandfather?” Lizzie demanded, her lower lip trembling.
Giles looked at her over Lucas’ shoulder. “He’s dead,” Giles said flatly. “Ye have no granda anymore.”
“How is that possible?” Lucas asked. “We just spoke with Pop…”
Giles lifted a brow, clearing his throat. “Did ye now?” Giles’ voice had changed, sounding reedy and thin.
Lucas staggered back. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“It was you?” Lizzie asked, her voice bordering on hysteria.
Skye and Matthews shared a look, both uncomfortable witnesses to the MacConnells’ family tragedy.
Giles’ eyes were filled with regret as he nodded slowly. “Aye, lass. It was me.”
“But… why?”
Giles’ shrugged. “I made a promise to Maggie. When she knew what ye might become”—he glanced at Lucas—“she dinnae want ye to step foot here, lest the Druid find ye.”
“Nan put you up to this?” Lizzie whispered in shock as fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. From what Skye recalled, their grandmother had died soon after Lizzie was born.
“But if you sent him to the Wasteland,” Skye said from her perch on the floor, “there would be no reason to think he could come back.”
“Aye.” Giles nodded. “If he had been any other man. But he’d already killed all but two of the remaining Druids. He was more powerful than any of his kin. There’s no telling what he was capable of.”
“Then why send him at all?” Skye asked.
“It was the only way to protect ourselves. We had to try.”
Skye shivered and wrapped her arms around her body protectively. She’d already guessed he was incredibly powerful; he was capable of doing far more than anything she’d ever heard of. But to kill all but two… and to be sent to the Wasteland and escape. They really didn’t have a clue who they were up against.
“Who’s the last Druid?” Lucas asked woodenly.
Giles’ eyes were filled with sadness when they met his. “Why ask what ye already know?”
“If there were two, and I am one… who is the other?” Lucas demanded.
“‘Twas yer da.”
“My dad wasn’t a Druid,” Lucas bit out, shaking his head in disbelief.
“No, in the end it seems he wasn’t. But we dinnae know that at the time. We couldnae take the chance that he would inherit your granda’s power, so we sent him away.”
“That’s why we moved to Chicago.”
It wasn’t a question, but Giles nodded anyway. “Aye.”
“Why did we ever come back here then? Did my dad know?”
Giles nodded. “I think he was looking for the book.”
“The book?” Lucas asked, his brows furrowing over stormy blue eyes.
Skye froze, staring up at Giles as understanding dawned. “The book at the library. It was his.”
Lizzie whimpered, and Matthews wrapped an arm around her, pulling her shaking body against his. L
ucas whipped his head around and stared at Skye.
“My dad’s?”
“The Druid’s. Lucas… we have his spell book.”
A dark smile twisted his lips, and his eyes glistened. Skye couldn’t remember ever seeing him look the way he did now—like a predator who’d just spotted his prey. “I’m looking forward to taking him out with his own damned spells.”
Skye shifted her attention back to Giles. “You had it all this time, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“Why not give it to Lucas’ father?”
Giles shrugged. “‘Twas safer with me.”
“Then why give it to me now?” Lucas asked. Even though Lizzie had been the one to find it, there was no doubt it was meant for Lucas.
“Because ye need it.”
“Do you think you could stop giving us half-ass answers for a second,” Matthews glared at him.
“I’m telling ye what ye need to know.”
“In your own fucking time,” Lucas responded.
“You could have told us all of that the second you stepped foot in this house, and saved us a whole hell of a lot of trouble.” Skye folded her arms over her chest.
“Possibly, but I didn’t know ye well did I? Could be ye were working with him too. Now I know yer not.”
Skye rolled her eyes.
“So you’ll help us?” Lucas asked.
Giles nodded grimly. “As much as I can. I dinnae have any power of me own, but I know the craft. I can help ye understand whatever’s in that book.”
“Why should we trust you?” Matthews asked.
Giles shrugged. “I need to make amends. I helped create that monster. I’d like to help put him down now, and more permanently this time.”
Skye watched Lucas weigh the words before nodding. “Fine.”
The finality of the word washed over them all, and the rest of them relaxed. For better or worse the five of them were in this together now.
Skye stepped into the kitchen with death weighing heavy on her shoulders. Although not actually responsible for the situation they were currently in—she’d merely predicted it—Skye couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for tonight’s outcome.