The Druid Witch

by J. D. Cavan

“That’s bullshit.” She gave Dean and Vovk a nasty look, clearly picking up on the fact that they had talked to me about her. She stood up and walked away. “I’m going no matter what you say,” she called as she climbed the stairs leaving the chamber. I put my hands up in the air. Jess was a headache, plain and simple.

  “I’ll speak with her.” Vovk hurried out of the chamber after her.

  “She wants to be like you,” Dean said. “So start acting like a good role model.”

  “Your own little mini-me.” Nick roared in laughter, as did Liam. Dean shot them snippy looks.

  “That’s enough!” I quieted the group. Then I realized I was acting like an uptight jerk again. They were just having fun, lightening the mood. “Sorry, I’m under some pressure,” I apologized. “Before we end the meeting, does anyone have anything else?”

  “Yes,” Dean said. “Vovk requested that we all eat together tonight. Or at least sit at the same table. I agree with Vovk. We are trying to create a normal atmosphere for Jessica.”

  “A good family environment, one happy SOJ family,” Liam said with a chuckle. “Good luck.”

  “I’m in. I’m starving anyway, and Vovk’s making steaks.” Nick got up to leave and I adjourned the meeting. As Nick and Dean left the chamber, I took a call from Silvio.

  “Hey, looks like someone took a bunch of money from Miller. Hacked into his broker accounts. We got motive now.”

  “Do we?” I asked. “Why not just take his money? Why drum up a murder charge if you don’t have to?”

  “Maybe she tortured him to get his passwords or somethin’ and it got outta hand?” Silvio replied.

  “Doubtful.” Silvio had a point but it seemed like a stretch. “I didn’t get anything from the escort. Her story held up. I have to go.” I hung up. Liam was standing next to me like he wanted to say something.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “So I have a thought.” He paused. “Why not bring Nessa O’Shea on as a member of the Society of Justice? She’s well-trained in all forms of combat. And she needs a job.”

  “One vampire’s enough!” I replied. There was that edginess again. Maybe it wasn’t just the coffee and stress. I had another nagging sense: it could be my dark side coming out. The Akantha equation—an equation I didn’t even understand, let alone how to solve, could be rearing its ugly head.

  The thought never left me. I carried Akantha’s blood—that dark druid witch—and what it would do to me now that it was awakened was yet to be determined.

  “What does it matter if there are one or two vampires working for the SOJ? Seems like an arbitrary excuse,” Liam said.

  “I’ll tell you what’s not arbitrary. Nessa’s obviously up to something besides just coming to New York City to— “ I searched my mind for her exact wording. “To heal.”

  Liam gazed at me. Those eyes that always softened me didn’t this time. “You’re hurt about this.”

  “I’m not,” I replied. Even though I was.

  “Nothing’s changed between us—”

  I cut Liam off. “Yes it has.”

  “Well, nothing’s changed for me. How I feel.”

  I walked away from him and up the stairs. “You have old stuff to take care of with Nessa. Don’t try and tell me otherwise.” I shut the door, leaving him in the chamber.

  Liam had been spending time with Nessa, and I was sure they weren’t just “catching up.” I was hurt, and angry, and I didn’t trust Nessa. The more I thought about it, the more I sensed that she was interested in a lot more than just getting Liam back. There was something else Nessa was after in this city. I just didn’t know what it was yet.

  Either way, something was wrong with me. I had to admit it. Liam tried to talk about his feelings for me and I just stormed away. Whatever was happening to me was beyond a grumpy mood. Being a psych major, and psychiatry student at one time, I at least knew that much.

  Good thing I had an appointment with Dr. Edwards tomorrow. I needed a therapy visit. Dr. Edwards knew all about my Akantha issues. If this was a problem, which it very well might be, I wanted to get ahead of it.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT I dreamed of Thomas Miller’s penthouse.

  It was as if the murder was occurring and I had the perspective of the killer. I watched him struggle and die on the floor of his bedroom before I woke up in a start.

  I was covered in sweat and breathing like I’d just finished the NYC marathon.

  I grabbed my phone and checked the time. It was eight in the morning, later than I had wanted to sleep.

  Still half asleep, I took a shower and got dressed. In my somnambulistic state I felt like I was back in the dream, inhabiting the killer in Miller’s penthouse. I had seen some pretty gruesome murder scenes before, but I’d never had post-traumatic nightmare-type symptoms over it.

  I raced downstairs, heading for the meeting room—and coffee—when I smashed into Dean.

  “Where’s the fire?” Dean glanced at me up and down. A strange look fell over his face.

  “It’s an emergency coffee situation.” I tried to push past him.

  “Hold it!” His face scrunched. He took a step backward to get a better look at me.

  “What?” I put my arms out.

  “What are you wearing? And what’s with the dark makeup?”

  I glanced down at myself. I’d gotten dressed in a half-conscious state and surprised myself. I wore a snug tank top with a bit of cleavage showing and an extra tight pair of black jeans. Definitely not me, but Dean’s reaction seemed over the top.

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Dean,” I said as I worked my way over to the coffee maker.

  “We’ve been best friends for years and one day, poof! Vampy makeup and skin showing? You’ll have to excuse me for noticing.”

  Liam walked in the front door and past the meeting only to stop dead in his tracks. He laid eyes on me. “Wow,” he blurted. I felt him staring at me. “Are you off to someplace special?”

  “I just felt like it, is that okay?” I took my glasses off, which I never do, and walked toward Liam. I had his attention. His eyes sparkled in desire. I thought I might just catch a glimpse of his fangs.

  “You look different is all,” he muttered uncomfortably.

  “Different?” I came up close and peered into his eyes. I sensed his heart rate. Rapid.

  “Huh, yah… I mean in a good way.” He was flustered, a rarity for him.

  This was so not something I would do—and I knew it as I was doing it. But I had to admit that I liked it. I had control over Liam and it felt powerful. Then I broke my gaze and strolled away. Liam stood there, watching me. Then he seemed to shake it off and continue on his way.

  Dean threw his hands on his hips as I approached. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “Relax, Dean, I’m just having some fun,” I said, while another part of me was saying to myself: Fun, where the hell did you come up with that?

  “Is this insecurity over Nessa? She is crazy beautiful—” Dean injected, interrupting my internal dialogue.

  “Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better about the whole Nessa thing.” I took a big sip of coffee.

  “You didn’t let me finish. If this is because of Nessa and Liam, well she’s got nothing on you, love. So don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” In truth I was, but it was more about what was happening to me. I finished my coffee. Suddenly everything hit me at once. The way I had just acted with Liam, the Nessa thing, the murder and my dream…all spinning away. I dazed out.

  “Lila, hello! You’re going to be late for Dr. Edwards,” I vaguely heard Dean saying as if he was off in some faraway land.

  “Sorry, Dean. I’m spacey.”

  “It’s a good thing you have a therapy appointment this morning. Did you forget?”

  I rubbed my forehead and checked the time. It was already nine-thirty! I shook my head. Where the heck was the time going? I seemed to be losing track of it.

  “Gotta run, thanks
Dean!” I filled my travel mug full of coffee and booked across town. I hadn’t seen Dr. Edwards in a week and it seemed like my entire world had changed.

  Chapter 6

  I BURST INTO Dr. Edward’s office.

  “Hello, Lila,” she said.

  “Sorry I’m late. Since last session I’ve got a murder and a goblin problem, but that’s not the worst of it.” I sat down in my usual spot, in a chair across from Dr. Edwards.

  “What’s the worst of it?” she asked.

  Dr. Edwards had her clipboard in her lap and was ready to take notes. She was dressed as she normally was: impeccable skirt, jacket, and a set of tasteful pearls around her neck. If I’d taken a different journey and completed my psychiatric training to become a therapist, I’d imagined I would dress just like Dr. Edwards.

  “Something’s happening to me,” I reported.

  “Such as?”

  “First off, look at me.” I stood up and turned around.

  “I did notice the dark makeup around the eyes. And the cleavage.”

  “I can’t explain it. I dressed like this without even realizing it.” I sat back down and started rambling. “I’ve been edgy, over the top. I flirted with Liam, but not my usual I’ll-wait-for-him-to-flirt-with-me-first innocent kind of thing—more of a seduction power thing. And there’s something else… There’s this weird sense I’ve had at the murder scenes. I’ve been dreaming that I was the killer.” I felt a level of panic spring up inside me. “I’m also dazing out, spacey. Like, not focused. And I’ve got crimes to deal with!”

  Dr. Edwards tried to calm me. “Relax for a moment. Gather your thoughts.”

  I took a couple of deep breaths and then a thought popped into my mind. “It’s like there are two of me. One that got dressed like this and one that would never dress like this.” Perspiration formed on my forehead and I wiped it with the back of my hand.

  Dr. Edwards studied me. “I don’t want you to be overly concerned about what I’m going to say. But this could be the beginning of you experiencing your Akantha bloodline change.”

  The evil witch Akantha’s blood was in mine, and ever since the curse had been lifted, her powers and identity had been likely to invade my personality. Not that I had any idea what that would be like, but what was happening to me now didn’t seem like a bad-witch-past-life thing. It seemed like the beginnings of a nervous breakdown…

  “I feel like—” I paused for a second trying to use the Akantha equation to understand my current state. “—that the Akantha side of me is riskier and would do certain things that my regular Lila side would never do. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes. And as I said, I don’t want to frighten you, but this is likely just the beginning.”

  Now I felt it—the full fear. She was scaring me. “You mean this,” I motioned to my body, “might get worse?”

  “I’m not sure. But try and pay careful attention to any changes occurring from the Akantha side—”

  “I just told you that I’m having trouble paying attention!”

  She nodded understandingly. “Alright, I want you to try this.” She got up and went to her desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out a writing pad. She walked back over and handed it to me. “During the day, I want you to record your thoughts and feelings. Give times and dates and details of events. Like a personal journal.”

  I held the pad in my hand. It was small and had a hard cover, and I knew what she wanted me to write in it. Dr. Edwards wanted to me begin to track my changes, when I was in and out of the Akantha side. It was smart. I could go back and read it and it could help me monitor whatever the hell was happening to me.

  I slipped the journal in my back pocket, thanked Dr. Edwards, and headed on my way.

  * * *

  WHEN I RETURNED to the Society of Justice, Agents Tasso and Silvio were waiting to talk to me.

  I went to sit down at the conference table and Tasso glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. Silvio gawked in a way that made me want to puke. What was everyone’s problem? Put a little eye shadow on and a tight shirt and the world falls apart?

  I decided to get right to business. “What do we have?”

  “Sure, I’d love a cup of coffee,” Silvio said.

  “It’s self-serve.” I motioned to the coffee maker. “Oh, and it’s high test, not the watered-down pretend version of your precinct coffee.”

  “You’re pleasant as hell this morning, Detective,” Silvio grumbled as he walked over to the coffee maker. My mind raced. Was this a journal-worthy moment? I determined it was just my normal impatient Lila side. I could see that parsing out what might be my Akantha side and my grumpy Lila side was going to be very difficult.

  Tasso sat across from me. “There was another homicide last night, almost identical to the Miller case. Young millionaire named John Sanders. Tie around his neck, strangled to death. Escort service.”

  “Different escort service? I asked.

  “Yep,” she replied. “But same killer I bet.”

  Silvio sat down with his coffee. “It doesn’t make sense that whoever killed Miller would do it again. The perp took enough of his money to last five lifetimes, why kill again?” He took a sip and smacked his lips. “This is damn good.”

  “Because this is not just about money,” I replied, ignoring his comment about the coffee. I knew it was good.

  “What else is there besides money?”

  “Power,” Tasso said.

  I nodded. “Someone is sending a message.”

  “And we better find out what that it is.” Tasso stood up, ready to head to the new crime scene.

  “That’s right, because we already have one clear message from this killer.” I had their attention. “Whoever it is, is going to kill again.”

  I had Tasso and Silvio go to the escort service to conduct the interview while I set out to investigate the new crime scene.

  Chapter 7

  JAKE GREETED ME at the elevator doors of the Sanders’ penthouse.

  While we took the elevator up to the apartment, Jake briefed me on the details of the case. Apparently an escort named Jade—her real name was Kelly Montane—had come to Sanders’ place last night, as she had done before. But this time, another escort from some other service met her at the apartment door. There was a brief exchange and Kelly left.

  “Did Kelly get an ID on the other escort before she left?” I asked Jake. The other escort was obviously a potential suspect.

  “Kelly said that it was too dark in the hallway to get a good look at her,” Jake said skeptically. “I’ve been up there already. The hallway has low lighting but it ain’t that dark.”

  “Fishy.” I knew Tasso and Silvio were likely interviewing Kelly Montane as we spoke. If she was lying, they’d break her down.

  The elevator door opened. I went to take a step and I felt it immediately. It was the same déjà vu experience I’d had at Thomas Miller’s murder scene.

  As I began to search through Sanders’ apartment, it hit me square in the face. It was my dream from the previous night. I realized that my dream wasn’t a replay of the Thomas Miller murder at all. It was actually this murder scene, the one I was at currently.

  My heart started to pound as I stood over John Sanders’ body. He lay in his bedroom, half-dressed with a tie around the neck. I’d seen this in my dream, detail for detail. I struggled to understand it.

  Could my dream have actually been a prophetic vision, a psychic prediction of the murder? I’d never had anything close to a legitimate sixth sense in my life, but maybe my Akantha side was the cause of it. I’d have to talk with Dr. Edwards about this, as soon as possible.

  When I hit the streets, I ducked into a nearby coffee shop. I ordered a large dark roast. I pulled my journal out of my back pocket and began recording the events of the last hour. I needed to track my internal experiences.

  I finished my coffee and checked my phone. I got a text from Dr. James Blake. It was very bad news. I booked out of the coffee sh
op and raced downtown to the supernatural containment unit to meet with Blake.

  Chapter 8

  THERE WERE NYPD patrol cars and NYFD trucks everywhere.

  The street was barricaded off, and black smoke was still pouring out of the building. Jake met me outside the containment unit.

  “The goblin gang blew a hole the size of the Lincoln Tunnel.” Jake pointed at the side of the unit. A wall had been destroyed and a large opening exposed the inside of Blackeye’s cell.

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Yeah, a couple of correction officers in the explosion.” Jake looked pissed off. “Those goblin scum must have used a pound of heavy-duty stuff to do that kind of damage. Blackeye hid under the steel bed in the cell, protected him from the blast.”

  I knew this would be another setback in supernatural and NYPD relations. Since the bank robbery disaster, there had been word that a lot of cops were angry. Now a bunch of correction officers had gotten injured. Not good.

  We walked through the enormous hole and into the containment unit. Dr. Blake emerged from a nearby office with a stern look etched all over his face. He greeted Jake and me, and even though he was somber and obviously concerned, I could tell he was glad to see me. Jake excused himself and Blake took me inside the office.

  “First of all, it’s great to see you again.” His smile was genuine. Dr. Blake had the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He could disarm a tiger with them. He was a charmer, and had tried his powers on me a ton of times.

  “It’s good to see you too, James.” I noted that I’d never called him James before. It was always Dr. Blake. That was weird.

  “You look—” He paused, and I felt his eyes on me. “—really good.”

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  “Anyway, I hate to bring you bad news, but I’m going to have to shut this unit down completely. You have too many violations. I can’t even begin to list them. None of the cells are up to code. And now, with the escape.” He shook his head. “The cops are furious with the goblins over this.”

  I wasn’t surprised. I knew all of this was coming. But I didn’t have any alternative solutions. “We need a place to hold the supernatural criminals so they can get a fair and formal legal procedure. They are part of our society now, at least here in New York City, and they need to be treated as such.”