The Druid Witch

by J. D. Cavan

  Blake ran his hand through his hair. “I’m losing support for this unit. NYPD and now correction officers have been assaulted.”

  I moved closer to him. “James, we both want what’s best for this city.” My eyes met his and I held his gaze. “Let’s work this out together.”

  I sensed his heart rate as I flirted with him, just as I had with Liam. It was ticking up quickly. His very handsome face flushed. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. I had him eating out of the palm of my hand.

  A part of me was getting what I wanted, but another part of me was appalled at how I was getting it. This was definitely another journal entry moment.

  “I’ll have my people come down here immediately and fix all the violations. We need the holding cells operating.”

  “Alright.” He shook his head. “But I don’t know how you got your way with me this time. You’re going to owe me.” I stepped even closer to him and he almost fell backward. The great and powerful Dr. Blake was intimidated.

  “If I owe you, then what do you want?” I raised my eyebrows provocatively. He couldn’t seem to find the next set of words to ask me out. I gave him a sly grin, and then turned and left the office.

  As soon as I hit the streets, I was struck by what I’d just done. I had used my Akantha side, without the consent of my Lila side, to seduce and manipulate Dr. Blake —and who knows, maybe even cast some kind of spell on the man. Shame on Akantha me.

  I turned a street corner and ducked into a pub. I ordered a pint of pale ale and made a journal entry. As I recorded the James Blake event, I panicked. My changes were happening too fast. I was losing control! I called Dr. Edward’s office and scheduled an emergency visit.

  Chapter 9

  I WAS ABLE to get into see Dr. Edwards. Luckily, she had a cancellation.

  I rushed in and sat down.

  “Two things just happened.” I opened my journal and reported both. I spilled the details of my dream and the second murder scene and then the James Blake seduction. Edwards listened carefully.

  “Did you feel like—” She stopped herself. “Let’s call it your Lila personality. Did it have any control during either event?”

  “No, my Lila personality didn’t seem to have any control at all.” I felt an abject fear at calling a part of myself the Lila personality. It was beyond freaky.

  “Okay.” Dr. Edwards nodded calmly. But I could see it all over her usually calm face. She was disturbed.

  “You’re concerned, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “A little. But we mustn’t panic.”

  “I am panicked!” I blurted. When you’re panicking, it never helps when someone tells you not to. It only makes it worse.

  “Wait a second,” she said soothingly. “You said it seemed like you didn’t have control over your Akantha personality. Perhaps your Lila personality has more of a say than you think.”

  I felt my heart rate drop slightly. She was right. I wasn’t entirely sure. “It’s not so easy because sometimes the Akantha personality helps me.”

  “Go on,” Edwards encouraged.

  “If that side of me has psychic powers, or can get me things I want from people like Dr. Blake, that’s good, right?”

  “Yes, but it can be dangerous.” Dr. Edwards was right about that. “So I want you to keep recording all the events as they occur. Most importantly, track the moments when you have to stop the Akantha personality. Focus on when she’s over the top and putting you or others in danger. I want you to try and fight that personality with the Lila personality.”

  “Then I can see how much control I really have.”

  “Exactly!”

  I knew our time was up but there was a diagnostic question I had wanted to ask. One I was afraid to query but felt compelled to do so.

  “I don’t want to reduce what’s happening to me with a diagnosis, but I think I know what it is. And it’s scaring the hell out of me.” My face flushed, anxiety rising again.

  “If we had to put it in medical terms?” Edwards asked. I nodded. “The closest classification would be Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

  My worst fears were confirmed in a thud of misery. Dissociative Identity Disorder had once been called Multiple Personality Disorder. It was almost impossible to treat. Dr. Edwards must have sensed my terror.

  “But I don’t believe that it is best to think about it that way. If we must use scientific or psychological categories, I think archetypal psychology offers the best explanation.”

  I had heard the term when studying psychology in undergrad but had forgotten most of it. “Does that have to do with Carl Jung and his study of the archetypes of the collective unconscious?”

  “That’s right. He called a certain malevolent part of all of our personalities the shadow side. He believed that the archetype of the shadow, the darkest parts of ourselves, had to be confronted and contended with to be ultimately integrated into the better parts of ourselves.”

  “That’s more hopeful,” I said with a sigh. I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant to confront and contend with this dark part of my personality, but at least it seemed like something I could work on.

  Dr. Edwards looked at me seriously. “Your Akantha personality is a very specific shadow side of you, many centuries old. You need to stay on top of it as your Lila personality. You mustn’t let Akantha get total control. We don’t know how powerful the Akantha personality could become. If she overtakes you—the better side of you—the repercussions could be very serious.”

  Chapter 10

  I WALKED DOWN the street, lost in my head. I tried to take in what Dr. Edwards had said.

  I felt a dull panic and a feeling of doom when I spotted a man wearing dark glasses, a long coat, and using a cane. He caught my attention because he appeared to be playing the part of a blind man more than actually being blind.

  He turned a street corner and headed down an alley. I went after him. There was something odd about him, like a person in a Halloween costume. I immediately thought of my father. The two times he’d been spotted since he staged his death, he’d been disguised—once by Jake when he was dressed as a homeless man, and once by me when he pretended to be a doctor to see me in my near-death state in the hospital.

  “Excuse me,” I said, following close behind him. He kept walking. “Dad?” I called, coming up right behind him. He turned around to face me. My heart leaped in excitement at the prospect of finally seeing my father again.

  “Hello Lila,” the man said as he removed his dark glasses. My hopes were dashed.

  “Hello, Malcolm,” I replied.

  “You looked disappointed. I suppose you were expecting someone else.”

  “What do you want?” Malcolm was always using some form of sorcery and manipulation. Pretending to be my father in disguise to draw me to him was the least of his evil deed capacity.

  “I see you’re becoming your true self. Just as I had suggested.” He motioned to my body with his cane. Malcolm had been the one who had broken the bad news to me about my Akantha bloodline. He had predicted it, and I could see he was gloating about it. I gave him nothing and just glared.

  “Get to the point. I know you’re not here to congratulate yourself.”

  “Impatient girl. We should be friends, work together—”

  “I don’t think so,” I cut him off. I knew I had to be very careful around Malcolm, particularly with my Akantha personality ready to spring up. Malcolm personified the shadow personality—he was all bad, and if he got to my Akantha side, who knows what might happen.

  “Oh goodness, you’re not there yet. But I promise you this. You will be on my side soon enough,” Malcolm said, as if it was absolutely a matter of fate.

  It bothered me, but I needed to fight any of his potential mind tricks. “I have more control of my Akantha personality than you think, Malcolm,” I asserted, even though I was deeply unsure of that fact.

  “Doubtful. But I’m not here to discuss that. I have something for you.
” He produced a necklace out of thin air and held it up in front of me. It had a red charm, a stone of some kind, dangling off the end of it.

  “This was Akantha’s amulet. Your great aunt’s! The one your mother inherited and then gave to Bernard Devlin. The very one he gave to me so I could lift the curse. My use for it is over. It is for you now. It is rightfully yours.”

  My heart pounded. This was a trap. It was a way to get me on his side. “I don’t want it. That thing has created more harm than good.” Akantha had used the amulet to curse the city decades ago, suppressing all the supernatural beings. Years later, Malcolm lifted the curse using the same amulet with grave implications, including my very own Akantha personality problem.

  “I suggest that you take it, Lila Stone.” His voice became stern. “You’d be foolish otherwise.”

  I stood my ground and refused. I noticed, however, that a part of me that wasn’t Akantha was seriously considering whether I should take it. I didn’t move on it, though. I couldn’t trust Malcolm.

  “I’ll put it to you this way: if you don’t accept this gift right here, right now, someone else will. And I assure you that this other person is someone you certainly don’t want to have it.”

  My head spun. Now I was in a real jam. “Who is this person, Malcolm?” I demanded.

  “That I cannot tell you. It is not my place to do so.” I glared at him. I wondered who this person was. It could all be just a lie to get me to take it. Malcolm had no problem with lying. “You have three seconds to decide.” He held it out.

  I counted the seconds and then betrayed something deep inside and took the amulet.

  “Very good girl,” Malcolm muttered.

  I held it in my hand and gazed at it, bracing myself for a wave of sorcery or magic, some form of power to emanate from it. But there was nothing. It was like any piece of jewelry: a lifeless object.

  When I looked back up, Malcolm was gone. I went to slip it in my pocket but before I did I felt something stir inside me. It wasn’t Akantha, or darkness at all. It was my mother.

  I felt tears form in my eyes. She’d worn it close to her heart. A mother I’d never known, one who had died giving birth to me. I clutched the charm and then opened the chain and placed it around my neck. I felt the amulet rest against my chest, against my heart. Whatever magic or power it could have over me, it was worth it. Being close to my mother was worth it.

  Chapter 11

  DEAN HAD A gross expression on his face. “There’s a very nervous, stinky fellow in the waiting room. He’s asking for you.”

  I looked at Dean blankly. Then realized what he was talking about. I’d forgotten I had called him. “That’s Rumble. He’s our informant. I need to speak with him.”

  “Can you do it outside?” Dean waved his hand over his nose.

  “Open the windows and bring him into the interview room.”

  Jess came down the stairs. She had been listening. “Let me do it with you!”

  “Sure,” I replied. It wasn’t dangerous, and it would be good training for her. Dean shot me a nasty look. I didn’t think he or Vovk wanted Jess involved with anything at the SOJ, but I was determined to find things she could do.

  “Before he comes in, one of us has to be the good cop and the other the bad cop—”

  “I want to be the bad cop!” Jess said immediately. Somehow I knew Jess was going to pick that one.

  Dean walked Rumble in and before he could even start denying that he knew anything, Jess flashed her red demon eyes. Rumble stumbled backward in fear.

  “Demon!” he cried, pointing at Jess.

  “That’s right. But I have control over her,” I replied.

  “Let me go,” he pleaded.

  “As soon as you tell me where they took the head goblin,” I said calmly.

  “He’s in jail.”

  I could tell Rumble was lying. Jess growled. “Where’s Blackeye?” She stepped closer to Rumble, who was cowering.

  “I can stop her, or not,” I said. Dean was watching the whole thing disapprovingly.

  “He’s downtown. Alphabet City.” Rumble put his head in his hands and trembled. I had Jess step back. I gave Rumble a cup of coffee and some leftover muffins that Vovk made. He snatched them from me and gobbled them down.

  “Good job. You’re almost there. Where are they in Alphabet City?”

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Jess stood behind me and Rumble glanced at her in fear. “A bar called Spikes. It’s very badass. Don’t go. Not just goblins, wolves also.”

  “Werewolves? What are they doing there?” I pressed him.

  “I don’t know. You the detective. You tell me.” Rumble finished another muffin, downed the rest of the coffee, and belched loudly. Dean shut his eyes and shook his head in disgust.

  Jess took an aggressive step toward him, but I stopped her. I had gotten plenty from Rumble. I told him he was helping to protect the city and then sent him on his way. Dean reluctantly fixed him a small package of leftovers.

  After Rumble hit the streets, Dean told Jess to get back to writing her personal essay. Vovk and Dean were pushing Jess to apply to colleges. I could tell she was less than interested, but I was staying out of it. I had work to do, and a goblin to take care of. I went upstairs to change. If I was going to Spikes, I was going to need a new look.

  * * *

  “OH BOY,” DEAN said as I descended the stairs. “When did you even get those boots?”

  “I rode bikes with my father and Nick, have you forgotten?” I wore black

  biker boots that tied up high on my calves.

  “That was light years ago.” Dean waved his hands at me. “The whole thing.”

  This was a far cry from my usual sneakers and jeans. I wore an old beat-up leather jacket, a tight white tank top, and plenty of black mascara.

  “I’m going through some changes.” I wasn’t going to tell Dean that I had Akantha’s blood racing through me.

  “I hope you go through your changes soon enough. It’s making me nervous.”

  “Listen, I need for you, Liam, and Nick to get downtown to the supernatural holding unit. I’m bringing the goblin back in. I need those cells up to code. I promised Blake.”

  “You’re going to Spikes alone? Not advisable,” Dean warned.

  “It will be less intimidating,” I replied.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Dean replied, looking me up and down.

  He was right. Someone else had me now. I was losing Lila quickly and Akantha was getting behind the wheel.

  “Tell Nick I’m borrowing his Harley. I need it for a mission. He’ll understand.”

  Chapter 12

  THERE WERE ABOUT ten Harleys in a line parked outside Spikes, so when I pulled up on Nick’s, I fit right in.

  There were a couple of CPP wolves outside and I felt their eyes all over me as I got off the bike. I took off my helmet and tossed my hair. I put the helmet on the back seat and walked past them through an old set of wooden doors like I was walking into a saloon, six-shooters on my side.

  It was an old dive bar, loaded with werewolves. I counted quickly as I walked in: two by the pool table, two at the dartboard, five at the bar, and one behind the bar. They all looked the same, not one under six-five and built like linebackers. Most were rugged-looking in t-shirts, jeans, and biker jackets. I didn’t even have time to get to the bar when one of them said something.

  “If it isn’t the most feared cop in the city.” A wolf got up from his stool. His frame was so massive it blocked out the bar’s neon lighting. One of the other wolves called him Duke.

  “If you’re good boys, you don’t have to fear me,” I replied.

  I would have gotten right to the point. They were harboring Blackeye, a known criminal bank robber, cop assaulter, and fugitive. But I wasn’t in charge of this one, Akantha was. She was out to have a bit of fun while she worked, and all I could do was observe. I tried to rein her in, but it wasn’t working. Maybe it was all the tes
tosterone in the air and the incredible risk I was taking.

  I sauntered up to the bar. I must have surprised them with my coolness because Duke and the other wolves didn’t say a word. They did watch me carefully, however.

  I leaned against the bar and ordered a shot of cheap whisky and a domestic bottle of beer. The Akantha side of me drank differently, I noted. She preferred the cheap stuff, and a lot of it.

  “We have craft beer here, for your sophisticated taste,” Duke said mockingly. After the demon episode, I had allowed one interview with Gothic Metro News. I’d mentioned that I had a thing for craft beer. Cases of beer from local breweries, like Captain Lawrence, Single Cut, Gun Hill, and my very favorite, Evil Twin Brewing, showed up often at the SOJ doorstep.

  I ignored Duke, playing his head a little, and instead chatted with the bartender. He seemed like a nice young wolf. He was the smallest of them, wore his cap backward and was polite.

  “So, to what do we owe this visit?” Duke asked, but it was more like a demand. He sat down on the barstool next to me.

  “Can’t a girl get a drink?” I stared straight ahead. I tapped my shot glass and the bartender filled it again. I slammed the whiskey down.

  “She can. We believe in women’s rights.” Duke broke out in laughter, as did the rest of his crew. “But you could get a drink anywhere, so why here?” He leaned closer to me. I could sense his aggression now. The others got up from the stools they were planted on and began to surround me. I finished my beer and the other shot.

  Then I felt Duke’s hand on my knee. The others moved in also. Duke stood up and inched his hand up to my thigh. I felt his breath on my neck. They were all close now, too close.

  I threw a knife-hand strike to Duke’s nose, crushing it and sending him backward. He hollered in pain. The other werewolves growled and snarled. They looked as though they would attack when the front door sprung open.