“That’s it?” Da asks, his eyebrows raised high enough to disappear behind his russet bangs.
“Is what it? Dinner? Yeah. It’s as easy as that. We live in the age of convenience.”
“Fiona Kacee Cumhaill, ye know full well what I’m askin’ ye. Have ye nothin’ ye want to get off yer chest about my involvement with Shannon? Because I figured the moment we were alone ye’d be bustin’ at the seams.”
I set the three glasses in place and turn to face him straight on. “Da, I’m honestly good. I love both you and Auntie Shannon with my whole heart whether you’re together or not. I know how good the two of you have been for our families and you’re right. The dating details are none of our business. I’m a little afraid that if it goes south it might impact our family, but that’s about it. You do you. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
His gaze narrows and he leans closer. “Yer sure?”
I move in and hug him, wrapping my arms around his waist and across his back. “Positive.”
He grips the hair at the back of my neck and kisses the side of my head. “How did I ever manage to raise a woman of such wisdom and character as my darlin’ girl?”
I shrug. “I am pretty incredible, I know. So, on to the next question. Do I get to tell the boys? Or do you want to?”
He eases back and shakes his head. “I have a feeling yer lookin’ forward to it. Have at it, but please make sure no one upsets Shannon. She loves the lot of ye like yer her own. If there are any cross words to be spoken, make sure they come to me and not her, understood?”
“I don’t think there will be, but yeah, I can do that.”
I leave Da in the kitchen, and when I don’t find Sloan in the basement, I check upstairs in Calum’s room. “Oh, so this is where you’re hiding.”
He flashes me a guilty grin and turns from his computer. “I have a rule about not getting involved in the fallout of interrupting naked family members of the girl I’m courting.”
I snort. “Really? And what rule is that?”
“Don’t do it.”
“Oh, that complex is it?”
“Yep.”
“Well, the coast is clear. Everyone has clothes on now, and dinner will arrive in a few minutes. Come down, and you can help me fill Da in on what he missed.”
He stands and points at the mason jar on the bed next to his duffle bag. “After dinner, should we head over to the bookstore with Emmet and see if we can get the ancient ash on the road to recovery?”
“Yeah. I’ll text Zxata and tell him. Maybe he’ll want to join the party.”
“Ye told that Garnet fellow ye’d text him as well when ye returned.”
“Right, thanks.” I pull my phone out and send both of those texts. The responses come back quickly. “Zxata will meet us there. Garnet says for us to swing by his compound when we finish. There’s something he wants to talk to me about.”
His brow pinches. “Ye know where the man lives?”
“No, but Zxata does, and he was heading over there to visit his sister.”
“How is Myra?”
I shrug. “Still unresponsive, as far as I know.”
“I’m sorry, Fi. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
* * *
“Thanks for coming, Emmet.” I hug my brother outside the front door to the Emporium and notice he hangs on a little longer than usual. I ease back and pull my keys out of my purse. Once I unlock the doors, I step inside to release the wards and turn off the security system, then the three of us go inside. “How was your shift?”
“Uneventful. More importantly, how are you?”
As the three of us head into the back room, I fill him in on what happened from the time Liam and I left the table to go dance until now—except for the part about Da and Shannon. I’m saving that for the right moment.
“Liam’s okay?”
“Yep. I wrapped the slug, and he’s wearing it as a badge of honor—a symbol of survival.”
“Well, kudos to you and your Da for saving him, my man.” Emmet bumps fists with Sloan. “Looks like we owe you yet another life-saving win.”
Sloan waves that away. “Lugh and Lara are my family. That means yer my family as well, and Liam and Shannon by extension. I’m happy it all worked out.”
“I hear you.”
“Now, to the next patient.” I turn on the lights to the back room and lead the way. Mr. Tree, a.k.a. Leniya, looks as sickly now as he did three days ago. Thankfully, he doesn’t look much worse, but he certainly doesn’t look any better.
“Hey there, Mr. Tree. I promise we’ll get you fixed up in no time. I brought you some medicine as well as a druid healer and a booster cable to give you a jump start.”
Emmet chuckles. “Thanks for that.”
I wink at him and press my hand on the tree’s trunk. “It won’t be long now, buddy. Once Zxata gets here, we’ll be—”
“Zxata is here.” He strides through the doorway from the front of the store. “I brought a friend as well.”
I smile as Dora follows him in and wow, yeah, now I’m excited. If Pan Dora is willing to help us, I can’t even imagine what kind of druid chops she’s got. “Welcome, Dora. Thank you for coming.”
Dora steps close to the tree and brushes her fingers over his crumbling bark. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. I’m more than a little rusty.”
Sloan’s eyes are wide, and I know he’s thinking along the same lines of awe-inspiring wonder as me. “I have no doubt ye’ll bring us nothing but successful results. It’s an honor to work at yer side.”
Emmet’s confused, but honestly, that’s not an uncommon expression for him. “Oh, do you possess nature magic, Dora?”
She offers him an adoring smile and dips her cleft chin. “In another lifetime, I did, yes. I might have a bit of magic left in me somewhere. Shall we give it a try and see?”
“Sure. I’m a buffer. Do you want me to boost you?”
She shakes her head, and her bright purple hair flows loosely around her broad shoulders. “Boost Mocha Manliness over there. He’s got the most focused healing abilities in the group.”
Before Emmet asks how Dora could know that, I interrupt. “Gran created a remedy to counteract the base magic of the Evening Shade Wizards. With that and our combined efforts, I have faith we’ll have Mr. Tree lush and blooming in no time.”
“How would ye like to do this?” Sloan asks Dora.
She seems embarrassed by the attention, but I can’t blame Sloan for handing over the torch. There’s no way I’m going to lead this band of merry men.
Not with her here to take charge.
“We’ll kneel around the trunk and pour the remedy as we pass the jar withershins from one to the next. If you have a spell to cast, that is your time. Then, we’ll plant our palms flat against the earth. I’ll speak a formal healing incantation, and the four of you can call upon your Guardian of Nature bonds to infuse the healing.”
Dora kneels directly beneath the weeping gash in Leniya’s bark. The burn mark from the dark magic makes my heart ache. Zxata kneels next. I take my position, then Sloan, and Emmet.
Sloan uncaps the remedy and pours a sweeping arch of the deep, mulberry mixture in front of him. As the liquid soaks into the ground along the base of the tree, he says,
As the tincture pours
So, yer health restores
Remove and banish
Dark magic vanish
Radiant health is yours.
He hands me the jar, and I repeat his actions and words before giving the remedy to Zxata. We go around the tree withershins—the pagan way of saying counter-clockwise—until Emmet finishes and hands the empty jar back to Sloan. He sets it aside and presses his palms to the earth.
We all follow his example, and I close my eyes.
“Guardian of Nature,” I say, then focus on my connection with Myra’s home tree. I remember Gran’s teachings from that first day in her garden.
Empty yer mind of the noise tha
t buzzes inside yer head, no questions, no expectations, no turmoil.
Like then, the connection builds beneath my palms. It starts deep in the soil beneath us and arcs up into the palms of my hands, through my wrists, and into my body’s core. The energy isn’t strong and warm like I’m used to.
It’s sluggish and cold.
Poor Mr. Tree.
I reset my focus as Dora starts the incantation. Her words are harmonic and roll off her tongue as if she speaks them every day. The language is strange to my ears, but something ancient and instinctual inside me recognizes it.
My shield warms against the flesh on my back, and I feel Dora’s energy signature radiate through our connections. Her power snaps in the air and makes my lips tingle. Even with my eyes closed, I’m aware of the living force that is nature.
I sense the rich nutrients of Gran’s remedy soaking into the earth beneath my fingertips. It sinks deep, burrowing into the darkness to find Leniya’s roots. The healing moisture seeps, drop-by-drop, into the pores of the home tree’s root system. It carries restorative energy and healing sustenance. It cleanses the destruction of the dark spell.
Dora’s voice has a strength to it that makes my ears pop.
Rusty, my ass. She’s incredible.
I send all the healing energy I can into Leniya’s roots and farther still into the tree’s connection with Myra. I embrace the link with the source energy, and it surges from my arms, into the ground, and out into the natural world.
Druids are the conduits of earthly power, Gran told me. It will never harm ye as long as ye hold it in yer heart with reverence.
I do. I am a conduit of our Divine Lady’s gifts. She ignites in my cells and, through me, rights the damage done to this ancient ash.
I listen to Dora and her words spin in my mind, painting scenes of forgotten times. I swallow. It’s disorienting. My stomach tightens, and my breathing picks up.
Wait. I don’t like this—
A jolt of power shoots up my arm like a rocket and throws me into the air. Distantly, I hear Sloan and Emmet shout.
I am weightless.
I fly backward until I ass-plant hard on a patch of mossy scrub and come to a violent, crashing stop. My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh, and I lay on my back, gasping to get reacquainted with oxygen. A cool breeze blows over my face, and I open my eyes to the champagne sky of twilight.
As suddenly as the power surge hit me, I remember having this exact sensation once before…
I gasp as my heart hammers behind my ribs.
“Oh, crap.”
Chapter Thirteen
“We meet again, fair Fiona,” my great-great-great-who knows how many greats-grandfather says. I stare at the ruddy face of my ancestor, his messy, blond braids swishing beside his face as he bends to help me up.
He clasps my wrist and hauls me to my feet with an easy smile and unstrained strength. “Fiona mac Cumhaill, blood of my blood, my heart sings to be in yer company once again.”
“Good to see you too, Fionn.” I brush off the bits of nature smudging my butt and shake off the timewarp trippiness spinning in my head. It’s a warm, autumn evening, and I’m staring up at a massive gray and red stone castle with soaring spires and flag-tipped towers. “Where are we this time?”
“The Castle of Carlisle.”
“When are we?”
He places his arm against his navel and bows while sweeping his other arm out to the side. “Fiona, welcome to the final days of the fifth century.”
As his words hang in the air, I blink at the smell of farmyard, the sight of peasants with oxen, and the sound of horse hooves clomping on hard-packed ground. This isn’t the first time he’s sucked me back in time for a bonding moment, but it’s no less disorienting.
“Why am I here?”
“For a quest of critical importance. Here, cover yourself with this.”
Fionn hands me a heavy green traveling cloak with oak leaves embroidered in gold around the hood’s edge and down both sides of the lapel. I swing it around my shoulders, and he stands before me. After tucking my hair back behind my head, he latches the bronze broach at my throat and lifts my hood to cover me.
“Why am I hiding?”
“I need hardly tell you the passage of time changes practices of what is common and acceptable. Here, in the now, a female wearing breeks inside the castle walls would draw us undue attention and likely unwanted scrutiny.”
I roll my eyes and pull the two sides of the cloak closed at my navel. It drapes to the dirt ground at my feet and hides my inappropriate femaleness from view.
“Why are they staring?”
“Merely curiosity. You are quite visibly a Celt, yet you have the flawless, porcelain skin of royalty and wear the clothes of a manservant. It’s only natural you draw notice.”
We round the back of a wall made out of bound bunches of collected twigs and join the common folk’s movement. Even with the cloak on and the hood up, people seem curious about me. I drop my gaze and try to blend.
“How proficient is your Celtic Brittonic?”
Fionn casts me a sideways glance. “Your understanding of ancient tongues. Celtic Brittonic, it’s what was generally spoken in this part of the world from the sixth century B.C. to the sixth century A.D.”
“Oh, yeah, not good. I didn’t even know what it was.”
Fionn frowns. “What have ye been doin’ with yer time? I thought ye’d be further along by now.”
The comment stings and I straighten and lift my chin. “Since you ignited your mark on me and threw me to the whacked and weird wolves, you mean? Well, let’s think about how I’ve spent my time. I’ve been kidnapped countless times, poisoned, hexed, stabbed, and shot at. I’ve been held captive and impaled on the altar for blood sacrifice. In between all that, I returned to Ireland, retrieved your precious Fianna heirlooms, built a fae grove, stopped a necromancer massacre, and freed the ley lines of Toronto so ambient magic can now flow freely. It may not tilt your scale, but for me, it’s been a busy four months.”
“Four months?” Fionn’s bushy blonde brow rises like a startled caterpillar. “Apologies. Time moves differently in the Nether. I didn’t realize ye’d still be at the infancy of yer journey.”
I stand down a little and uncross my arms. “All right, I know how time warps mess with things. Apology accepted.”
Fionn’s expression relaxes, and his full lips turn up at the corners. “A lass as gracious as she is beautiful. Now, ye said ye retrieved the Fianna treasures. Do ye have my precious girl with ye, then?”
I push my arm out of the cape and pull back my sleeve.
He brushes a gentle caress along the inked replica of Birga tattooed on the inside of my right forearm. “Och, there she is. I can’t tell ye how relieved I am my trove is back in the hands of my clan.”
“All good on that front. My brothers, father, and I have accepted the weapons and taken up the mantle of bringing the Fianna into the modern age.”
Fionn places his closed fist over his chest. “Ye make an oul man proud, lass.”
As crazy as it sounds, it fills me close to bursting to hear him say so. I really do want to honor him and the Fianna of old. “So, tell me about this quest of critical importance. Why am I here?”
“Have ye not guessed yet?”
I look around and draw a blank. History was never my strongest subject, but maybe I can pull a rabbit out of my ass. Or hat, I guess. Pull a rabbit out of my hat.
“So, end of the fifth century, we’re inside the Carlisle Castle…which I’ve never heard of…”
I examine the simple folk coming through the open gates, carrying bundles of wheat on their backs and lumpy and heavy sacks in their arms. Filthy dogs run between dirty kids playing with sticks and rocks.
“Yeah no, sorry, I’ve got nothing.”
He points at the red flags with the golden dragon. It’s a Western dragon with four legs and wings. I chuckle at myself. Before becoming a mother of dragons, I never
would’ve known the difference between a wyrm, a drake, or a wyvern.
I stare at the tunics of the guards standing at either side of the open city gate. They’re wearing chainmail head coverings and cowls and red tunics with the same golden dragon.
“The crest looks familiar, but I’m not sure—Oh! I recognize it. Sloan and Granda showed me ink sketches from the time of Arthurian lore when we looked up where the Eochair Prana could’ve gone. That crest was on the flags in the back of one of the pictures.”
“Where do ye think the dark book went?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. A couple of copies surfaced over time, but from what we learned, the original one—the one scribed in the blood of Morgan la Fey that had all the best resurrection spells—disappeared around the start of the sixth century and was never found.”
He blinks at me. “It seems unlikely, does it not, that a tome as powerful and coveted as the Eochair Prana could remain hidden for fifteen hundred years?”
I nod. “Lucky for the people of those times. From what my friend Dora said, it could’ve brought about the ruination of the balance of all power.”
Fionn tonks my head with his staff.
I groan. “Hey! What the hell? What did you do that for?”
“Checking that ye’ve got working cogs in there and not a vast space.”
“My cogs are working fine, thanks. Or at least they were until you beaned me one.”
Fionn sighs, takes my arm, and hooks it under his elbow. Together we walk away from the gates and up toward the castle proper. “Ye know the dark book came from this time and ye know the dark book disappeared from this time never to be seen or spoken of for at least the next fifteen centuries. What do ye suppose happened to it?”
I hear the thread of expectation weaving through his words. Then it dawns on me. “Me? I have it? You’re saying the reason it disappeared was that I traveled back and took it?”
He looks at me, and I’m sure if he knew the term ‘bingo,’ he’d be saying it right now. “Druids are the keepers of nature and the guardians of fae prana, yes?”
“Yes. Of course… It’s a little mind-bendy to think that current me in Toronto was searching for the book that disappeared when I took it fifteen hundred years earlier but didn’t have it yet. Cray-cray, amirite?”
A Family Oath Page 13