A Sacred Grove (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 2)

by Auburn Tempest

  I knock my knuckles on my forearm and force a smile. “This is a not-so-fun game I’m playing. See, it’s not scary, Meg. Auntie Fi is fine.”

  When the whimpered tears become full-blown crying, Gran pulls the baby to her chest. “Why don’t ye join the boys at the rings, luv? Maybe ye’ll be able to figure out what to do with those.”

  “I feel bad about leaving you alone with both kids. It was my idea to send Aiden and Kinu in for a rest.”

  She adjusts Meg onto her hip and takes Jackson’s hand. “Och, don’t feel bad. The three of us will have a grand time, won’t we, wee ones? Do you want Gran to show you where the baby foxes live? If you’re quiet, the mommy might come out and let you touch her tail.”

  The two of them glom onto Gran, and I’m officially dispensable. “Nice. So much for your favorite auntie.”

  Gran chuckles and brushes a finger across my cheek. “Off ye go. Figure out how to use those gauntlets. Lugh believes once ye do, they’ll bond with ye fully. Then ye’ll be the favorite auntie once again.”

  I hope so.

  I watch them go, set my mug onto the stone half-wall, and stride off toward the back of the property.

  The action in the rings is audible before I crest the rise. Calum, Dillan, and Emmet are down on the training floor and testing out their new skills. I stand there and watch them for a few minutes before I go down to join them.

  “Hey, boys. Can I play, too?”

  “Hey, Fi. Check it.” Calum waves me over. He’s standing in front of a wooden target board set sixty feet away. There are a dozen arrows lodged in the black bullseye area of the colored rings.

  “Wow, that’s awesome, Calum. You are Robin Hood.”

  “Now watch this.” His grin is infectious as he steps in front of me. “How many arrows have I got left?”

  I glance over at the feathered flights sticking up from the rim of the leather quiver. “Three.”

  He raises his bow arm, reaches back, and nocks an arrow. When he releases, it flies true to the bullseye.

  “Hey, Fi, how many arrows have I got left?”

  “Two.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I look at the flights sticking out of his quiver and frown. “Okay, three.”

  He reaches back and shoots off one, two, three arrows in quick succession as if he’s Legolas Greenleaf. “And now?”

  I look again, and my mouth falls open. “What the hell?”

  “Right? Still three arrows. It’s a refilling quiver.”

  Da jogs down the last steppe of the rings while holding his new staff. He looks fresh from the shower and bright-eyed. “It’s called an Eternalfull Quiver, and they’re a blessing to an archer in battle. How’s yer aim coming?”

  Calum points at the target. “Whatever magical knowledge I downloaded included the skills to put these babies to good use. It’s like they’re a part of me.”

  “Well, ye accepted them as part of ye, so they are.”

  Calum chuckles. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  Da steps off and starts stretching. I’ve seen him work out in the basement of our house, and he jogs regularly, but I’ve never seen him stretch much before a workout.

  It makes me wonder what we’re in for.

  “He’s doing better, eh?” Calum says quietly beside me. “The drinking, I mean. I was worried about him and Granda getting into old squabbles and Da hitting the whiskey to escape. He’s been a little shaky since Brenny, but seems better.”

  “Better, but not enough for us to stop paying attention. He’s kissed me a couple of times, and I’ve smelled it on him when there hasn’t been any around. Two nights ago when he came to find me in the forest, he said you boys were having beers, but he smelled strongly of whiskey.”

  Calum frowns. “No. He had beer with us.”

  “Did he grab any at the Duty-Free that you know of?”

  “The airport chaos is a bit of a blur. I’ll ask D. He went wandering with him when we arrived.” Calum saunters off and heads over to where Dillan is practicing fighting forms with his daggers in hand. He still has his cloak on and his hood up, and I wonder if we’ll ever get it off him.

  I laugh at the thought. It’s not the type of clothing that will blend in on the city streets of Toronto.

  Distracted by my musings, I miss when Da begins his dance with the staff. I say dance, because the way he swings it forward and back, pinwheeling it in front of him and passing it behind his back as he twists and twirls is nothing short of a choreographic masterpiece.

  The man has always been coordinated, but lawdy, lawdy, Miss Clawdy. With his heritage powers restored and his amp-up from the statue in the fortress, he’s phenomenal. I can’t help but stare. Gran said he was skilled with a staff, but I never expected this.

  “Fi, you’re gonna catch flies.” Emmet closes ranks. “Your mouth is hanging open.”

  I point at Da, and his jaw drops.

  “Holy geez, is that our old man? ‘Cuz it looks like him, but I’ve never seen him do anything like that before.”

  The staff cuts through the air with such precision I can’t wrap my head around it. When he slows, the four of us bow and lower our hands in praise. “We’re not worthy.”

  Da chuckles and kisses the staff. “It’s been a long time since I’ve fallen in love.”

  Dillan laughs. “Just take it slow, Da. She has a spear on one end and a club on the other. I can’t see it working out for you if you rush her.”

  I roll my eyes and call for a family sparring match. “Hand-to-hand? I’m not a hundy percent sure I trust the skin as tough as bark theory of my new freaky bracers, and Emmet and I didn’t get weapons last night.”

  Emmet scowls and throws up his palms. “Naked guy blasted me with a shit ton of knowledge, but I’m not sure what good that does me in a battle.”

  “Do ye remember what ye learned, Emmet?” Da asks.

  “Nope. But it seems to come to me in waves when I need it. Watch this.” He closes his eyes and opens his palms to the sky. A moment later, three squirrels bound over the crest of the top tier of the rings and scurry down to sit in front of him. The next thing I know, he’s chattering and making squeak and click noises, and they’re responding.

  “Is he talking squirrel?”

  Da has one eyebrow raised so high it disappears behind his russet hair. “That’s bizarre. Even in the druid world of communicating with animals, that’s bizarre.”

  Emmet looks at us, and the chattering continues.

  I snort. “Whoa, Em. You’re still talking squirrel, dude.”

  He pauses, then shakes his head. “Sorry. I said it’s really weird, eh?”

  “Yep. You win the prize for the most unique power. And hey, look at it this way. Now you can be the one to organize the squirrel army in our neighborhood.”

  Dillan barks out a laugh. “Emmet Cumhaill, the Pied Piper of Cabbagetown.”

  It’s close to three when Aiden emerges from the back hall. He looks refreshed and rather pleased with himself. I don’t want to know what that look is about. Lalalala. He grabs the last of the rhubarb strudel and pops it into his mouth. “Where are the monkeys?”

  “Sleeping on the foam in the living room.”

  He almost chokes and pounds a fist against his chest. “You got them both to nap? At the same time?”

  I giggle. “I can’t take any credit. Gran’s a druid superpower in her own right.”

  Finished chewing the strudel he wolfed down, he lifts the lid of the cookie jar and snags a handful. “What are you guys working on?”

  I reach out, and he hands me a few. I frown at the mountain of musty parchment spread across the table in front of me as I lean back and bite into molasses heaven. “I’m trying to find a reference to safeguarding the fae from necromancy. Well, honestly, any reference to necromancy.”

  “And you’re not getting anywhere?”

  “Granda is so much better at reading ancient script, but he got called in by the Nine Families for
a pow-wow. He took Da with him if you can believe that.”

  Aiden reaches down, picks up a piece of paper, and reads. “To you alone, ‘tis given the heavenly deities To know or not know; secluded groves Your dwelling-place, and forests far remote.”

  I blink. “Is it me or does that make your head want to splatter against the wall?”

  He drops the paper back into the pile. “It’s not you. Here, have another cookie. You don’t have to decipher a cookie.”

  I chuckle and accept the sugary diversion.

  “What else did Granda and Sloan gather while we were in the fortress?”

  I lean down and pick up the box on the floor beside my feet to look through the contents. “Loads of paperwork, a few cool wood and horn goblets, a couple of old gold coins, and this is cool.”

  I pull out a wide bone ring. “It’s rough and asymmetrical and in no way fancy, but it speaks to me.”

  He takes possession of it to get a closer look and turns it in the band of light that streams in through the open ceiling. “And what is it saying to you?”

  “First, it’s not meant for us. As clearly as I felt the pull of the statues signifying the rightness of us claiming the gifts last night, I know this ring is meant for another.”

  “And second?”

  “It wants to be claimed.”

  He hands it back. I’m still studying it when Sloan strides into the kitchen from outside.

  Sloan nods at the two of us. “Good afternoon. Lara sent me in for the healing potion she made up for the Doyle grove. She said it was here in the kitchen.”

  I point at the water cooler jug sitting on the floor by the door. Next to it, there’s a tube and spray nozzle that reminds me of Patty’s Super Soaker. “It’s that big jug and the pouch of herbs and mixed ingredients beside it.”

  I get up to help him and cross the kitchen floor. The closer I get, the more my hand tingles. Stopping right in front of him, I open my palm and look at the ring.

  “What’s that you say?” In truth, it doesn’t say anything, but I get impressions, and the message is quite emphatic. “It appears you’re the chosen one for this relic. The two of you must be meant to be, because it’s quite insistent.”

  Sloan arches a brow. “Are ye makin’ that up because ye think I was upset last night?”

  “I know you were upset last night, but no. This has nothing to do with that. It’s literally vibrating in my hand, eager to get to you. It didn’t do that with Aiden or any of my other brothers I showed it to this afternoon.”

  He eyes the bone ring. “Ye think it’s enchanted then?”

  “I know it is.”

  “And what do ye think its enchantment entails?”

  I chuckle. “Don’t you dare give me the scaredy-cat routine. I got rushed to put on bark bracers and look at me. I’m a freak who should pose for the next cover of Inked Magazine.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Aiden frowns.

  “And, ye’ve been a freak for as long as I’ve known ye, Cumhaill. I don’t know why it would bother ye now.”

  His jab hits its mark. I take a step back and press a hand to my chest. “The kids wouldn’t play with me today, and Meggie cried when she saw me.”

  Sloan matches my retreat and touches the bark on my arm. “I’m sorry. I was makin’ fun, and it wasn’t nice. If yer so unhappy with the inking, have ye tried to take them off?

  I hold out my arms. “Seriously? You don’t think I tried a million times? No. They are where they want to be. I think Granda is right. I need to get on board with them. Then they’ll go internal like my brothers’ ink.”

  “Technically, that’s the opposite of what ours do.”

  I throw Aiden a glare. “Not helping.”

  He holds up his palms and makes a hasty exit, after grabbing another handful of cookies on his way out.

  I take the beat of time while he makes his exit to get over my hurt and when I turn back to Sloan, I hold out the ring. “Okay, back to you. It wants you. I’m not making it up. It’s not a consolation prize. It’s determined that you’re the one.”

  Sloan takes the ring from me and slips it onto his middle finger. The moment it settles into place, I feel the energy ease.

  “Nice. It’s happy.”

  Sloan flexes his fingers in and out and looks at the back of his hand, then flips it to look at his palm. “And you have no sense of what kind of enchantment the ring holds?”

  “Nope. Just that it luuurves you, hot stuff. Do you feel any different? Any hints about what it does?”

  He looks around the kitchen and shrugs. “Nothing yet.”

  I grab the pouch of mixed herbs and point for him to resume his task. “Then we await the big reveal. Consider me your shadow until the mystery is solved.”

  After rolling his eyes at me, he picks up the jug of grove remedy and holds his hand out for mine. “Yer ridiculous. Ye know that, don’t ye?”

  Chapter Nine

  We materialize along the desiccated tree line of the Doyle grove. Iris Doyle and a couple of other people are busily working with the damaged trees. It’s been two days now, and it doesn’t look much better than it did that first day.

  “We aren’t staying long, are we?” I press my hand against my growling stomach. “I slept through breakfast and only had strudel and tea for lunch. After working out in the training rings all day, I’m getting hangry.”

  “Keep in mind, yer the one who tagged along on my errand. It hardly gives ye the rank to commandeer the schedule of my comings and goings.”

  I shrug. “Suit yourself. Consider yourself warned. You won’t like hangry Fiona. She can be abrupt and a bit edgy.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ll watch for the swing in personality. Thanks for the warning.”

  “Sloan.” Iris turns to greet us. “Thank you for coming, son. What have you there?”

  Sloan sets the water jug down, then extends his hand to me for the herb mixture. “Lara asked me to bring this to you. She believes it will nourish the wizened and depleted plant cells and breathe a bit of life back into them.”

  I hand him the pouch, and he empties it into the jug. After dipping the tube in, he gives it a few swishes and screws on the lid. “If ye squeeze the handle here, it’ll spray a fine mist. If ye cast a breeze to carry it—”

  I follow his gaze, wondering what distracted him, but see nothing but dead and dying trees.

  “Sloan?” Iris leans into his line of vision. “Are ye all right, son?”

  “Apologies. I am. Where was I?”

  “Spray the mixture and cast a breeze.”

  He nods. “Yes, spray the mixture and cast a breeze to spread it from roots to treetops. Lara believes it’ll help a great deal, and ye’ll see an improvement by morning.”

  Iris nods. “Kier, help me carry this to the center of the affected area. Lara has sent us a remedy.”

  As the water jug gets taken off our hands and the attention shifts deeper into the grove, I’m still watching Sloan. “What? Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Not a ghost,” he whispers and turns his back on the grove. “Twenty feet along the tree line, at the base of the big fir. What do you see?”

  I follow his directions and study the scene. “Nothing but a big tree. What did you see?”

  Without turning his head, he casts a sideways glance. “Do ye see where the branches rest on the ground, fanned out like a lady’s skirt?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I see a wee fae female curled up as if she’s ill, and she’s holding tiny winged creatures that look even worse off.”

  “You can see the hidden folk?”

  “Maybe, although I’ve never seen them before.”

  “Well, I don’t see them, and I know I can if they want me to because they came to me the other night.”

  “So, ye think she wants me to see her now?”

  I look back at the tree, and my instincts kick in big time. “It’s the ring’s power. For som
e reason, you’re meant to see the unseen. The ring wanted you, and now you can see the fae. Are you supposed to help them? Maybe you need to take them to your father for healing?”

  Sloan blinks at me. “And what does my father know about healing the fae?”

  “I have no idea, but you can’t just leave them there.”

  He looks over, and his frown deepens. “No. Yer right about that. Well, I suppose I should go introduce myself and see if I can help.”

  “Move slowly and make it clear you don’t wish them any harm. They’re skittish and leery of humans.”

  He chuckles. “I’ve studied them my entire life, and yer the expert after one late-night conversation?”

  “I have more real-life experience than you, don’t I?”

  He dips his chin as we stroll toward the big fir. “I can’t argue there. Ye definitely do.”

  We walk slowly, and I let him lead. If the ring chose him, there is a reason. When we’re less than ten feet from where the skirt of the fir tree lays against the ground of the Doyle’s back lawn, he stops and holds up his hands. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt ye. No, no, don’t try to move. I don’t want ye to hurt yerself.”

  I watch and wait, and when he takes a step back, I do as well. “What’s wrong?”

  “Och, she’s nervous. She doesn’t seem hurt, but I don’t want her to move until I’m sure.”

  I grip his forearm and magic rushes through me in a hot wave. My skin ignites, and I get a wave of goosebumps. The magic of his new fae sight extends to me. It flutters in my chest like a moth’s wing, and the veil blocking human vision from the fae realm is gone.

  “Hello there.” I recognize her round globe eyes and bouncy antennae. She’s not the same creature I saw in my grandparent’s grove. That girl was minty green. This girl is more sage green, but she’s the same species for sure.

  “How can we help you?” Sloan asks.

  Her mouth opens and a frantic flood of chatter ensues. I honestly think she’s trying to communicate, but I have no clue what she’s saying. “Did you get any of that?”

  Sloan shakes his head. “Not a word. She nitters like a little woodland creature and I can’t make sense of it.”