“Yer brothers are circling the site. There’s no sign of the fae, so we assume they have them caged and cloaked somewhere close by. The boys went to find the perspective from where Pip saw things. Once the water boils, Barghest will release them from their prison, and we’ll move in. When they have eyes on the fae, Emmet will signal us.”
“What’s the signal?”
“With Emmet involved, there’s no tellin’.”
I smile, kinda jazzed to see what he comes up with. He’s been awarded more than a few Oh! Henry bars for his pranks. Emmet has a creative and slightly off-kilter mind. “So, we’re not at the boil and bubble, toil and trouble stage of the evening yet?”
“Close to it, I expect. The fire’s been ragin’ for ten minutes, and I’m sure they’re boostin’ it with their powers. It’s full dark now. If I were them, I’d be anxious to get started.”
My shield tingles, and I pull off my hoodie. I’ll need freedom of movement to fight, and my ugly bark arms and tattoos might work in my favor and gross out the Black Dog members.
I shuffle back to the cluster of druid heirs and ignore the wide-eyed stares when everyone takes in my Frankenstein impression. “The others left to encircle the clearing. When they locate the fae, they’ll signal, and we all move in to fight. Sloan and Tad, your primary job is to rescue the fae and poof them to the Doyle grove. We’ll sort them out later. For now, we need them safe. We need to restore faith in the fae and prove to them that we’re still their protectors.”
“I want to fight,” Tad says.
“You will, but the fae are the priority.”
Tad runs a finger over the bark gauntlets attached to my bare forearms. “A spell gone wrong, beautiful? If ye want to swing by my place sometime after all this is over, I’ll help ye reverse it.”
“Keep it in yer pants, McNiff.” Sloan pulls a dagger from where it’s sheathed against his thigh. He points the business end at Tad and scowls. “Ye have no business pretendin’ to know what those bracers are about, and she’ll not succumb to yer smile and fall into yer bed like some chippie.”
Sloan’s use of the word amuses me to no end. I accused him once of wanting to make me his new world chippie. It’s fun to know he does pay attention.
The steady beat of a bodhran brings the chanter from earlier back into the center of the clearing to begin the ritual.
Day to night, and life to death.
Dark Mothers in every breath.
Demeter, Nemesis, Hecate,
Kali, Morrighan, Tiamat,
Bringers of destruction, ye who embody the Crone,
We offer these fae lives, power in blood and bone.
I search the darkness at the far side of the clearing for Emmet’s signal. “Come on, Em. It’s gotta be happening.”
The redneck lyrics of a country song blaring at top volume break the pregnant silence. The Black Dog druids freeze. The sound of a fiddle picks up in the clearing and a strobe of disco lights start flashing up into the night sky.
“He didn’t,” Da says.
I snort and grab a branch from the ground. “Oh, he did.”
Cotton-Eyed Joe blares through the air, and the sound-activated strobe machine picks up on the frenetic beat. Colored lights explode into the sky and create one helluva laser light-show diversion.
“He gets this from yer mam.” Da produces his staff and launches into the fray.
I follow behind while raising my hands and calling my gift. “Nice try, old man.”
There’s a moment when the clearing is solid chaos, and I wonder how we’ll know who’s on what team. Then I see all the black cloaks. It’s nice that the enemy wore a uniform so those of us who don’t know the faces of all the players can keep things straight.
Bruin, Aiden, Emmet, and the Perry twins flood in from the opposite side of the clearing. I hear Eric Flanagan’s whimper on my right flank and understand his terror. Bruin in a full raging run is a terrifying sight to behold.
“He only attacked you because you attacked me. Your fault. Don’t do it again and you’ll be fine.” A bolt of energy streams at us, and I wind up and connect with it using my branch. It’s a line drive up the middle but leaves me holding splinters.
I think about my enchanted spear and regret leaving her at home in Toronto. “Gawd, I miss you, Birga. I wish you were here right now.”
The moment I call her, she appears in my hand. The enchanted spear that belonged to my ancestor, Fionn mac Cumhaill, is a thing of wonder.
Her spear is a wickedly sharp chunk of green Connemara marble latched onto the end of a gnarled ironwood stick with an enchanted creature’s sinew. I haven’t learned what creature yet, but I sense that it was rare and powerful.
“I missed you, girlfriend.” Birga is old, raw, and rough.
Although she’s not pretty, she ebbs with power—and together, we are a force. We cut a swath through the enemy and make our way closer to where my brothers fight.
Da is a phenom. I could watch him spinning his staff forever and never tire. He’s a natural. Brutal and swift, he uses the blade at one end and the club at the other.
Aiden is a beast with his sword and strength. I know Kinu worries, but she’s never seen him like this. Maybe that’s a good thing. Perhaps it’s best that she knows him only as her loveable protector.
Calum must be perched in a tree at the end of the clearing because volleying rounds of arrows arc at us, and although no one is standing still or staying in one place, he’s only picking off the Black Dog.
He truly is our Robin Hood.
Dillan has his hood up—big surprise there—and wields his dual daggers as he minces, stabs, and slices his way through black-cloaked men.
Then there’s Emmet. My nutty, sweet, goofball of a brother is… “What is he doing?”
“He’s a buffer.” Sloan spins off an attacker and turns so we stand back-to-back. “The naked man in the fortress must’ve been Fionn’s buffer.”
Emmet’s dancing around, raising his hands, casting, and deflecting…he’s not so much fighting but cavorting.
Cotton-Eyed Joe must be on a loop because we’re on our second time through. Emmet looks as amused as he was the first time around. “What does a buffer mean?”
“He’s a power booster to the party.”
Oh, that’s interesting. His hands are up, and he’s casting like a fiend, with a wide smile, so whatever is happening, he’s having fun with it. He’s good, and he’s safe.
That’s all that matters.
“Oh shit.” The ground beneath my feet rumbles and crumbles. Sloan grabs me around the waist and flings me clear. I’m flying. I’m falling. Part of my mind stalls out from being catapulted in the air. The other part searches my trajectory for what I’m going to hit.
Tree.
I crash into the wide trunk of an ancient ash. When I hit, I have my arms up to protect my head. I expect to break at least one of my forearms, but I barely feel the impact.
I crumple to the base of the tree and roll to my knees. With solid ground under my feet, I spin in time to see Sloan swallowed by the gaping earth.
“Sloan!”
I run and dive at the closing hole. There’s no way for me to get there in time. The ground seals and the ache of losing another person hits me so hard, my legs fail. My knees hit the ground, and the jolt causes me to bite my tongue.
“Pull yerself together, Cumhaill. It’ll take more than an Earthquake spell to take me down. I portaled out.”
I launch up and punch him in the gut. “Don’t do that. You scared the crap outta me.”
He buckles at the waist and gasps. “I can tell.”
I hold out my hand and call Birga. The moment she’s firmly in my grip, I feel our connection and turn back to the fight. “Come on, Mackenzie. Now’s not the time to lally-gag. Villains to kill and fae folk to save.”
He lets out a coughing laugh and straightens. “Apologies. My mistake.”
Surrounded as they are, and dropping like splatted
flies, it’s easy to read when the Black Dog members realize the tides have turned and there’s no escape. Some drop to their knees and lace their fingers behind the backs of their heads in surrender. Most of them choose to fight to the death.
I feel exactly how excited Birga is at the prospect.
Four months ago, the concept of lethal force was reserved for only the most heinous of criminals. I never would’ve taken a life myself but understood that my father and brothers might be put in that position.
Now, I see the world from an altered perspective.
Things are different in the fae world.
Three men rush in from my right and I duck the blade of a sword and swing Birga to keep them at a distance. A creeping vine wraps around my left foot, but I’m too busy defending to untangle from it. When the first man rushes, I sink Birga’s spearhead into his stomach and swipe left.
I stumble to one knee as the vine pulls tight and tugs my ankle out from underneath me. I try to counter the Creeping Vine but don’t affect the spell. My other two attackers take advantage and launch forward.
Rolling to my back, I brace for impact.
I grip Birga in both hands and use her to keep the men off me. I grunt at the weight of two grown men landing on me. One has a dagger and is banging the blade’s point against my side. He’s getting nowhere.
As much as I hope someone will see I’m in trouble and help me, Da’s words ring in my head.
Yer always responsible for saving yourself. Always.
The world spins as the vine around my leg pulls harder and drags me toward the woods. I’m skidding over the uneven ground. With my shirt rucked up, each rock sticking up from the soil should be scraping and scoring my flesh. They aren’t.
One of the men kicks me in the ribs.
I expect the air to rush from my lungs with violent force, but I barely feel the impact.
I see the beauty of Fionn’s bracers. Honestly, in this instance, I don’t hate having skin as tough as bark.
The guy who kicked me might’ve thought I’d reel from the strike and be dizzy and gasping, but I’m not. When he comes at me with a follow-up attack, I use his moment of confusion to my advantage.
I release Birga with one hand and grip his face. Frostbite.
He screams in rage as the skin of his face freezes beneath my touch. When he pulls back, he rips and cracks his brittle flesh. His buddy curses when he sees bits of his friend’s face stuck to my hand.
I flick the chunks of cheek into the grass. “Did you want a facial, too? Two for one, tonight only—Equinox special.”
When he lunges, I’m ready.
I prop Birga up, and her green marble spearhead buries deep. The man’s blood bursts free of his chest. He falls forward, and I’m coated in a fountain of scarlet fluid.
It’s soooo gross, but I don’t have time to worry about looking like an extra in a Saw movie. I’m at the edge of the clearing and about to lose sight of my family.
Rolling to the side, I brace my feet against a tree’s trunk and refuse to let myself get dragged into the shadows.
This vine is determined to take me.
I can save myself.
I register the shifting shadows and swing my vision, trying to see who or what is approaching. The vine around my ankle is wound up to my crotch and is obsessed with pulling me into the trees.
Using Birga, I work on cutting myself loose. She’s super sharp, and I want to avoid slicing my leg off. The Tough as Bark might keep my skin free from damage against regular offenses, but what about against enchanted blades?
I’m not willing to bet my leg on it.
The shuffle of footsteps closes in, and I spin onto my knees. I’m getting nowhere on the vine, and I’m losing my hold on the tree.
Warning tingles across the back of my neck, but I can’t see who’s coming. Someone is watching me, and it doesn’t feel like a Black Dog minion about to attack.
It feels more sinister than that.
I grip Birga and strain to see into the darkness.
Bruin. I need help. Someone spelled a vine to drag me into the forest. I can’t break the spell and can’t cut loose. I feel him waiting for me. Watching.
The roar of my bear explodes in the clearing behind me. There’s a violent threat in the timbre of it, and I know it’s for the fear he feels across our bond.
A moment later, he’s there. He swipes the vine pulling at me, swings his head, and roars.
“I’ve got her, buddy.” Dillan drops to his knees beside me. Sloan’s there too, and he casts an illumination spell so we can see. Bruin turns and charges off into the woods.
“Have ye got her?” Da runs to join us. “Christ, Fi, where have ye been?”
I blink at my father, and when Aiden, Calum, and Emmet arrive, they’re wearing the same worried looks on their faces.
“I got kidnapped by a crazy-determined Creeping Vine spell. I couldn’t break it.”
“That’s a lot of blood.” Emmet points at my top.
“Not mine. I took out three during my drop-and-drag trip to the woods.”
Da helps me to my feet and wraps an arm around my hips while Dillan and Emmet cut the vine and untangle it from my leg.
“So, a vine drags ye away,” Sloan says. “And ye still managed to take down three men?”
I brush at the death I’m coated in, but there’s no helping it. I’m a disaster. “Uh, yeah, but then I got here and knew I couldn’t break free. I panicked. I felt someone or something in the trees. He wanted me—was waiting for me. That’s when I freaked out and called Bruin for help.”
“And thank the Powers ye did.” Da presses his hand to the side of my head and kisses my temple. “We lost track of ye, Fi. I don’t know how, but ye dropped off the map.”
Sloan curses. “One minute ye were in front of me, and the next ye were gone. Ye gotta stop doin’ that to me, Cumhaill. It’s hard on my nerves. I thought Baba Yaga took ye again.”
I wave that one away. “It wasn’t her. Honestly, I doubt I’ll hear from her again.”
“I may know how we lost track of you.” Dillan stands, holding a section of the vine. He lifts the twining green rope to his nose and sniffs. “This plant has a quality of invisibility to it. I’d guess the more of a hold it got on you, the more unlikely it was that we’d find you.”
I frown. “How do you know what invisible smells like?”
Dillan shrugs. “With my hood up, I know lots of things I don’t know I know. You know?”
My brain hurts.
“Are ye hurt at all, mo chroi?” Granda joins us.
“No. The bracers kept me safe. They’re amazing.”
“They also kept ye from bein’ poisoned.” Sloan eyes the thorns on the chopped vine segments. “I bet there’s paralysis as well as invisibility at play here. If these had punctured yer skin, ye wouldn’t have been able to fight and call for yer bear.”
Granda scowls and moves to see what Sloan’s talking about. “Who’s after ye now, Fiona?”
I shrug. “Maybe no one. Maybe the vine just picked me out of the crowd.”
No one seems convinced.
Da kisses the side of my head again and hugs me. “Or maybe, once again, the Fianna target on yer back has drawn attention.”
I sigh. Yeah, that’s most likely it. “Lucky me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bruin’s back within five minutes, and he’s one ornery bear. He stomps through the woods, crushes plants, and swipes his claws through the scrub while letting out loud bellows of fury. Whoever it was left a very distinct scent, but he’s gone. I’m sorry, Red.
I press my face into the warmth of his fur and breathe in the wilds of the outdoors. “Not your fault, buddy. You’re my hero, you know? You got the girl. That’s most important.”
The rumble of his amusement does a lot to ease the tensions of the night away. Yer hero bar is low.
“Nonsense. You found me, and you kept me from getting dragged into the woods. I’d hate to
think of myself like one of those pathetic girls in every slasher movie ever.”
I’ll always find ye. Or at least, never stop tryin’.
“Like I said. My hero.”
Dillan and Granda are examining the scraps of the vine and the thorns attached. They’re wondering out loud what kind of poison my bracers saved me from. If I had been paralyzed and dragged away, unable to defend myself, things would’ve ended very differently tonight.
I turn away.
I saw the live show. I don’t need a replay.
Truly thankful for the bizarre gauntlets for the first time, I close my eyes and accept the gift that they are. The rush of magic that warms my skin washes me with a sense of rightness. Fionn considered them part of his treasured armor, and I will too. I open my eyes, ready to accept them for the eyesore they are but so incredibly happy to see that Granda and Sloan were right.
My arms are as pasty pale and smooth as ever.
“Thank you, baby Groot.”
With that in mind, I hold my hand out and call Birga. She appears in my grip, and I repeat the gratefulness process, absorbing her into me as well.
Da looks down at me rubbing the spear tattoo lining the inside of my right forearm and nods. “Ye did well tonight, Fi. Ye should be proud.”
I surveil the warzone and smile at Emmet’s strobe machine. “Cotton-Eyed Joe will be tough to beat as a diversion.”
“Right?” Emmet nods and waggles his dark eyebrows. “Touching the nakey guy may have taught me lots of new things to use in battle, but sometimes you gotta fall back on what you know.”
I chuckle and look at Sloan. “Did you and Tad get all the fae evacuated?”
“We did. Tad and Ciara are there now and will protect them for tonight. Emmet and I thought you’d like to come with us tomorrow to check on Pip and her mate.”
“Absolutely. And what about everyone on the rescue squad? Is everyone whole?”
“A few close calls, but nothing Da can’t handle. I flashed Flanagan and one of the Perry twins home for him to tend to. The rest suffered only cuts and some magic burns. They can heal up at home tonight.”
A Sacred Grove (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 2) Page 12