by Donna Grant
Things got worse from there. Apparently, Usaeil had begun killing Druids to take their magic and strengthen hers. No doubt she had gotten the idea from the Others—which she had helped to create.
Usaeil had been the one to come to Skye and ask the Druids to guard the Fairy Pools. It gave the Druids a false sense of power that Usaeil had proven when she came to Skye and took two Druids, one of them Corann. Because the Skye Druids had more magic than other Druids, they increased Usaeil’s power significantly.
Corann, in his infinite wisdom, had known his role in the game Usaeil and Moreann—the Druid from the other realm—played. Corann had long known that his fate was connected to Moreann’s. It was something he’d kept to himself until the end when he’d shared it with Rhona as his spirit passed into the next phase.
The safety the isle always seemed to have was shattered the day Corann was taken. It was a new dawn for those on Skye, but they weren’t the only ones. The Dragon Kings, as well as the Warriors and Druids of MacLeod Castle, also faced new times. The Kings had seemed to come out ahead, at least for the moment. As had the Warriors and Druids. Sorcha couldn’t say the same for those on Skye.
Everything felt as if they teetered on the edge of a knife. One wrong slip and they could fall into a quagmire of shite so deep, they’d never pull themselves out. And all Rhona could think about was Sorcha going to the ritual at the Fairy Pools.
“No way in hell,” Sorcha stated.
Chapter Four
“Skye?” Aisling stated in shock, and a little bit of annoyance. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Cathal was as surprised as she. He was more troubled by why a Halfling would be living on Skye. While mortals without magic lived on the isle, it was a haven for Druids. There were more Druids on Skye than anywhere else in the world.
He and Aisling stood veiled outside a stone cottage. It was perched atop a hill with lovely views in every direction. Reapers could locate Halflings, and he had been drawn to the Isle of Skye whenever he thought about the woman. Unease rippled through him as he wondered why.
“Please tell me you got it wrong,” Aisling prodded.
Cathal shrugged and glanced at her. “We won’t know until we take a look.”
“You go ahead. I’ll stay here.”
He frowned as he faced her, wondering why she seemed so irritated. Then he realized what it was. “You’d rather be searching for Xaneth.”
Aisling released a long breath and met his gaze. “Xaneth helped us. And because of it, Usaeil targeted him. The longer he goes without being found, the more I think he’s dead.”
“If he was, Death would’ve felt his soul. She hasn’t.”
“That doesn’t mean Usaeil didn’t do something to him.”
Cathal couldn’t argue with that. Usaeil had done a great many things that no one had seen coming, including casting a spell that kept her returning from the dead, again and again. Rhi, along with Con and the other Dragon Kings, had finally taken care of that. Though the armies of the Light and Dark Fae had also been involved.
Aisling flattened her lips. “Not that this isn’t as important—”
“You don’t need to say more,” he interrupted her. “I understand.”
Probably more than she realized.
Aisling shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.”
“I’ll take a look inside to see if it’s the Halfling. Be right back.”
Cathal didn’t wait for a response as he teleported inside the house. He got in easily, which meant that there were no markings to keep Reapers out. Not that a Druid would know of such spells, but at this point, nothing would surprise him.
He looked around the homey dwelling, noting the simple décor in shades of light gray, white, and cream. It gave the place a contemporary air, except for the dated appliances that only seemed to add to the charm, instead of detracting from it.
Then his gaze landed on the woman reclining on the sofa. Her auburn curls were spread out on the pillow she rested on as her emerald eyes stared at the ceiling. She wore a pair of jeans and a soft beige shirt and had her injured foot resting on a stack of pillows. He couldn’t believe that he had found her so quickly.
As soon as that emotion went through him, apprehension returned. What was a Halfling doing living on the Isle of Skye surrounded by Druids? Then he thought of the Fairy Pools. There was a good chance that the Halfling was here for the pools. As easy as that connection was, Cathal didn’t buy it.
He might be veiled, but it didn’t mean that someone couldn’t hear him. All Fae could veil themselves for a few seconds. Only Reapers—and a special few Fae like Rhi—were powerful enough to do it for as long as they wanted.
Cathal couldn’t tear his gaze away from the Halfling. She had been pretty in the middle of a storm, drenched and needing help. Now, she was so stunning, she stole his breath. Her creamy skin had a few freckles scattered across her nose and along her chest. Her toenails were painted an iridescent gray with a chip on the inside corner of her left big toe.
She hadn’t moved her gaze from the ceiling, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that she thought about. He wished he could reveal himself and talk to her. That almost made him snort because he wasn’t what anyone would call a talker. He much preferred the silence. There was so much a person could notice and pick up on if they only shut their mouths for a few minutes. Unfortunately, few people adhered to such a rule.
Except the Halfling.
Cathal found himself moving closer to her. He noticed that she wore a delicate gold necklace that had a shield knot dangling from the chain—a symbol of protection for the Druids. At the sight of it, his trepidation doubled. In a blink, he returned to Aisling.
The female Reaper stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a foot tapping in annoyance. “Took you long enough. Where are we off to next? I felt a Halfling near Arran.”
“It’s her.”
Aisling’s foot stopped mid-tap. Red eyes slid to the cottage before returning to him. “You’re sure?”
“Go see for yourself.”
She took him up on the offer. A few seconds later, Aisling returned. “Fek me. It is her. Did you see her necklace?”
“Aye.”
“She’s on Skye, wearing a Druid protection symbol. I don’t think there’s any denying that she’s a Druid.”
Cathal hid his grimace. “And a Halfling.”
“Bloody hell.”
He shrugged, trying to throw off his worry. “It isn’t the first time.”
“It is for a fekking Skye Druid.”
“It explains why she was spying on the Druids in Ireland, though.”
Aisling rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yeah. She was doing it for her people here. Shite. I honestly believed that the Halfling we searched for wouldn’t be here.”
“The Skye Druids are powerful. The fact that she’s also a Halfling makes her particularly interesting. I cannot imagine what kind of magic she has.”
Aisling blew out a breath and dropped her arms to her sides. “All right, big guy. How do you want to play this? You obviously have some kind of connection to this Halfling, so I’m going to let you take the lead. And do not assume I’m doing that because I’d rather be elsewhere.”
If there was one thing he’d learned about Aisling, it was that she was as tough as any male Fae he’d ever known. In most cases, tougher. Each Reaper had been through their own kind of Hell in their previous life. And while they didn’t share such things with each other, he had an inkling that Aisling’s story was particularly appalling.
But she was loyal to the Reapers. She also had more confidence than anyone he knew. Cathal suspected that it was just an act to hide her scars. They all bore them—both visible and invisible—and he assumed Aisling’s might be the worst out of all of the Reapers. The fact that she was stepping back had nothing to do with her being unable to make decisions, and everything to do with the fact that she recognized he was somehow attached to the Halfling.
/> Cathal wasn’t at all happy about that connection, but he couldn’t ignore it either. “She doesn’t appear to be going anywhere for the moment. Let’s split up. See what you can find around the isle.”
Aisling twisted her lips. “I think it’s a good plan, but we should be careful. After what Usaeil did, Fae won’t be welcome here.”
“They can’t stop any from coming. Besides, we aren’t Fae anymore. We’re Reapers.”
She cocked a brow at him. “That doesn’t make things better. No Fae can know about us. That means Halflings, too.”
“Some have known about us.”
“Do you really want to push that? Now? After everything we’ve been through?” Aisling asked.
Cathal thought about that for a moment before he shook his head. “You’re right. I wouldn’t even know what to say to her anyway. I don’t even know her name.”
“I’ll go check around the isle. You stay here. You might find something.”
In a blink, Aisling was gone. Cathal didn’t immediately return inside the cottage. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was supposed to find the Halfling for some reason. But why? And more importantly, why him?
Those weren’t answers he was likely to get anytime soon. Cathal wasn’t the most patient Fae, but being a Reaper had made him…adjust. This was different, though. He could feel it in his gut. He wasn’t sure that he liked whatever it was that kept drawing him to the Halfling. It could only mean bad things.
Cathal could stand it no more. He teleported inside the house, making sure his veil was in place. The Halfling still lay on the sofa. She had such a forlorn look on her face that he nearly asked her what was wrong. He couldn’t believe himself. He never got involved in anyone’s business, and yet, that’s precisely what he was doing now. Or at least what he wanted to do.
He could tell himself that it was because of the new Fae group that had formed and the Reapers’ interest in that, but he knew that for the shite it was. He could even say that it was because Death had sent him. The truth was that he would’ve come no matter what. Even if Erith had told him to stay away.
Cathal narrowed his gaze on the Halfling. He wondered if she had done some kind of spell that had drawn him to her. It felt as if she were pulling on a cord that she had wrapped around him. But no Halfling—or any Fae for that matter—could have that kind of control over a Reaper.
He gave himself a shake and used the opportunity to walk around the cottage. There were three bedrooms and one bath. Two of the rooms held furniture, but they didn’t appear to have been used in some time. The third was obviously the Halfling’s. The bed was unmade, and a pile of dirty clothes lay near the door. Other than that, the space was in meticulous order, just like the rest of the house.
Since her room was at the back, he was able to rifle through a few things without making any noise. He didn’t particularly like going through someone’s things like this, but he wasn’t given much choice. They knew nothing about the Halfling, other than where she lived and that she might very well be a Druid.
That still took him aback. The Fae had always come to Skye because of the Fairy Pools, but they tended not to mess with any of the Druids who called the isle home. As far as Cathal knew, there was no direct order from either the King of the Dark or the Queen of the Light instructing them to keep their distance. It was more like something all Fae simply knew.
He stilled when he saw her small purse. It would be easy to open it and find the identification that humans carried so he could learn her name. But he didn’t. He didn’t know why, but he wanted her to tell him.
“What the fek is wrong with me?” he whispered as he turned away and walked from the room.
He halted in the hallway when he saw that she now sat up on the couch. After a moment, she pushed to her feet, wobbling slightly as she tried not to put too much weight on her injured ankle. He wasn’t sure why she hadn’t used magic to heal it. Whether she used Druid magic or Fae, she could heal herself. Yet, she had chosen not to. The longer he was around the Halfling, the more confused he became.
For the next few hours, the woman moved around very little. She ate lunch, went back to the sofa to lie down, got up again an hour later for some tea, then was back on the couch. She put on headphones and listened to an audiobook for about forty-five minutes before she gave up on that with a loud sigh. Then she was back to staring at the ceiling.
Aisling returned to the cottage, and Cathal went outside to talk to her. He jerked his chin. “Find out anything?”
“That meeting we listened to in Ireland? The Druids are going to have one here.”
His brows snapped together. “What?”
“The new head of the Druids, Rhona, doesn’t want it, but others are calling for it. Appears she realizes that she needs to hold the meeting—if only to try and dissuade the Druids from wanting to create such a group.”
Cathal nodded. “Good for her.”
“On another note, there seems to be some kind of ritual at the Fairy Pools taking place soon.”
His frown deepened. “Ritual? What for?”
“Something to do with a certain family here. Rhona is part of it. It seems she’s trying to get someone to the ritual, who hasn’t been for some time. A woman by the name of Sorcha. Their mothers were sisters.”
Cathal found himself looking at the house.
“Did you discover the Halfling’s name?” Aisling asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Did you look?”
“I did.” He swung his head back to her and met her gaze and raised a brow.
She stared at him for a long minute before she nodded. “Got it. The ritual is supposed to take place in a couple of days.”
“I know of nothing that would cause the Druids here to do anything for the Fae.”
Aisling rolled her eyes. “They’re fekking humans. I don’t care if they have magic or not, they do some really stupid shite.”
He couldn’t stop the smile from pulling at his lips. “You’re not wrong.”
“I didn’t see anything else around the isle. Most notably missing were the Fae.”
“Part of me isn’t surprised. After what Usaeil did—”
“Most Fae don’t even know about that.”
Cathal blew out a breath as he nodded. “Do you remember how the Fairy Pools came to be?”
Aisling shook her head of long, black and silver braids. “No. Do you?”
“I don’t. There is obviously a connection to the Fae here. There are the Fairy Pools, the Fairy Bridge, Fairy Glen, and Fairy Knoll. Our people played a big part here.”
“But for all of that, the Fae don’t come here very often.”
Cathal shrugged. “That we know of.”
“Perhaps it’s time we dug into the legends to find the truth.”
He grinned at her. “You wouldn’t be having fun now, would you?”
She cut her red eyes to him. “If you tell anyone, I’ll have to hurt you.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said as he held up his hands in front of him.
Aisling’s lips softened into a smile. “I’m glad you helped the Halfling. And I’m glad I’m here helping you.”
“We’ll finish here, then we can both look for Xaneth. He’ll be found. I know it.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
Cathal didn’t bother mentioning that she seemed particularly interested in finding Xaneth. Almost as much as Erith. Then again, he had never understood the minds of women. It was best if he kept his thoughts to himself.
Chapter Five
The first rays of sunlight came over the horizon, dawning a new day as Sorcha stood on the beach. The wind was soft, the smell of salt heavy in the air. Birds began to call as they left their nests to start the day. Memories of her sister, her mother, and herself standing in this exact spot filled her. Lots of laughter, corny jokes, and many serious discussions had happened on this beach.
This cove was one known only to locals, and
it had become theirs. This was the first time Sorcha had been here since her family died. She didn’t stop the tears that came. Nor did she halt the memories. They had assaulted her all night. She’d soon realized there was no running from them. She had pushed them aside for as long as she could.
Whether she wanted them or not, they were there, forcing her to relive the good—and the bad—times.
For so many years, she’d told herself that she enjoyed being alone. It was a lie. Sadly, she’d almost begun to believe it. The truth was that she missed her family so much that the ache threatened to swallow her whole. Nothing could be done to bring them back. And while so many had told her that time would dull the grief, they were wrong. It had only grown.
As the sun slowly climbed higher in the sky, she watched the reflection upon the water. The sound of the waves gently rolling onto the shore before ebbing away was soothing. She’d forgotten just how much she loved it.
Sorcha wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes as she raised her face to the sky. Somehow, by allowing the memories to fill her, she felt…relieved. Her tears dried, and she took a deep, calming breath. She didn’t know why she hadn’t done this before.
Actually, that was a lie. She hadn’t come to the beach because she hadn’t felt worthy. She had a penance to pay, and getting any kind of enjoyment out of life wouldn’t allow her to serve that sentence. A part of her felt guilty, but she hastily pushed it aside. There was nothing remorseful about watching a sunrise and thinking about the past.
A smile touched her lips as she thought about her mother and her mantras. One of her favorites had been: Never let anyone make you feel guilty.
She wondered what her mum would think about her making herself feel remorseful now. But then Sorcha knew what she would say.
“The only one who can make you happy is yourself, Sorcha. You know right from wrong. Follow that and follow your heart. You can’t go wrong in doing those two things.”
Her face crumpled as fresh tears flowed. God, how she missed her mum. By not allowing herself to delve into the past, she had shut out the words of wisdom her mother had so often shared throughout the years. It felt good—right, even—to hear her mother’s voice in her head, repeating the words she had thought so important to share with her daughters.