“Looks like we’re taking a family trip to Quebec. Maybe we’ll retrace the migration route of the French settlers.”
“We’re kind of settlers. Trend settlers.” He snorts.
“Druid settlers…breaking new ground and lighting the way for all those who gave up before us.”
He enlarges the text on his screen. “Check it. The underground source of the Laurentian’s aquifer is Georgian Bay, and it says here that it reaches to High Park.”
I blink at him. “High Park? Seriously? That’s five miles from our house.”
“Crazy, right? Who knew all this was going on underneath our feet?”
“Who knew, indeed.” We travel along for a while, and I keep an eye on the GPS screen. “What do you think our chances are?”
Emmet leans back in the shotgun seat and shrugs. “I have no idea. Can we penetrate five miles of prehistoric stone? Will there be magic under there? If there is, will it be pocketed or accessible? There are a lot of ifs.”
I hit my indicator and take the highway onramp to the 400. “I love that Gran thought of freeing the magic into the water table. If it flows naturally, it is better for everyone.”
“And it beats us blasting through the earth’s core every hundred feet to try to build our own ley line rivers. I looked into how we could shift the tectonic plates of the shield thinking that might work, but it’s seriously one huge-ass sheet of stone—no faults, no wiggle room.”
When the highway expands to four lanes in both directions, I press down on the accelerator and get us moving. We have a long day ahead of us and a short time to get it done.
To avoid getting caught in Toronto traffic, we decide to skip the Rouge River System as our first stop and go straight north out of the city and up to Lake Simcoe. It’s a two-hour trip to get there. Then we can use country roads to move east and come down once we get past the Greater Toronto Area.
Emmet is lost in a geological rabbit hole of information. “Lake Simcoe is a remnant of a much bigger, prehistoric lake known as Lake Algonquin.”
I chuckle. “You’re going to use up all your data researching fun facts. You should save some.”
He closes his search and drops his cell into his lap. “More importantly, I don’t want my phone dead if we need to call for backup from the middle of nowhere.”
“There’s that too.” I turn up the radio, and the two of us ride in companionable silence. Emmet’s good like that. He’s all jabber and goof when life is chaotic, but he doesn’t have to fill every quiet space with the sound of his thoughts.
“This whole thing blows my mind,” he says later.
“Which whole thing?”
“Tectonic plates, glaciers, pocketed magic… Think about it. We’re talking about releasing magical mojo that’s been trapped for millennia. Does age make it powerful old magic? Does magic go stale?”
“Like a day-old donut?”
“Just spitballing. There’s so much we don’t know.”
“Preach. I think about that every day.”
He stares out the window as the factories lining the highway thin out and we pass longer stretches of natural land. “Think about it. We may have all the magic we need trapped just beyond our fingertips. It’s cool.”
“Cool, yes. Convenient, no.”
I follow the 400 until the GPS lady tells me to get off the highway. “What’s our Plan B in case this fails?”
Emmet looks over. “No idea. We hope it doesn’t fail?”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
We arrive at Lake Simcoe’s shore, and I follow the instructions until we’re driving with a large body of water on our right-hand side. “Okay, where are the beaches we can use to gain access to the water?”
Emmet looks into that and calls up another search. “It looks like there are six close by to choose from…oh, and one of those is a nude beach.”
“So, there are five to choose from.”
Emmet snorts. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Nowhere near going to a nude beach with my brother.”
“Oh, good point. I hadn’t got there yet. Yeah, hard pass on Bare Oaks. How about Innisfil Park? It’s close, people won’t be nakey, and it looks like it’s less populated than some of the others.”
“Good, we’ll start there.”
Emmet navigates the way, and after I park in an empty public lot with about fifteen spots, he hops out and looks at the parking kiosk. “How long are we staying?”
“An hour? I have no idea.”
He slips his bank card into the machine and comes back with a receipt. “It’s three dollars an hour. I bought two. Put that on the dash.”
I place the receipt face-up and pull the keys from the ignition. “That should be plenty of time to figure things out. Any idea where we’re going?”
“There’s a path and info board over there.”
I follow Emmet to the board and trace my finger over the shellacked map that marks the bike and walking paths, and water access. “Okay, so we’ll take the dirt path straight to the water and see how things look from there.”
“Cooleroo.”
“Bruin, do you want to come out and play?”
Sure do. I want to secure the area.
I smile at the flutter in my chest and the build-up of pressure that precedes my bear’s release. He bursts from me with a gentle pop of pressure in my lungs and a swirl of a breeze around my body. “You do you, buddy. Have fun. You should be fine in bear form, but if you run into any trouble, spirit out and find us.”
Stay locked and loaded, Red.
Such a worrier.
Chapter Nineteen
Emmet and I tromp along, and although we’re here with a purpose, the pristine, natural surroundings make our mission a pleasure. Autumn is an amazing time of year in Ontario. It’s after the thirty-eight-degree Celsius heatwaves of July and August, and before the minus thirty-two-degree winter freeze of January and February. With Thanksgiving and changing leaves and Halloween, it’s awesome.
Since connecting with our druid heritage, the natural world has grown on me more than I ever expected. “We should start family nature walks on the weekends. Maybe give Kinu a break and take the kids with us.”
Emmet smiles up at the autumn sun breaking through the canopy of leaves. The dappled light covers him in patches of sun and shadow. “Sounds good to me.”
“Keeereee.”
The shrill cry has me searching the break in the trees ahead and focusing on an enormous bird plunging its talons toward the surface of the massive body of water. In an almost uninterrupted descent and ascent, it flaps its mighty wings and pulls back into the air with a fish wildly thrashing in its clutched talons.
“Respect.” Emmet fists his hand over his chest. “Is that an eagle?”
“Osprey.” I’m not sure how I know.
We watch him carry his prey up to a massive twig nest at the top of a tall tree. “Lunchtime.”
My stomach growls and I search the forested shoreline for a good spot to venture out. There isn’t one, which is likely why there aren’t any other people here. “I could use some food too, but it looks like we’re out of luck here.”
“Agreed. Our next stops, Johnson’s Beach and Centennial Beach are ten minutes up the road and look much more heavily used by the public. I bet there will be a food truck or vendor there.”
“Okay, let’s do what we came to do and move on.” I stare out at the body of water and wonder how we’re going to get out there. “You didn’t happen to bring a canoe did you?”
“Damn. Sorry, I left it in the pocket of my other jeans.”
“Unfortunate.” I search the shore, wondering where to start. “It’s late to ask, but how do we figure out where the magic is?”
Emmet snorts. “Now you think of that?”
The two of us stand there glancing around, feeling a little daft. I send a quick text to Sloan and look around. “Come on, Emmet, buffer me. I need to find magic. Our lives
depend on it. Access your naked man magic and tell me how.”
He laughs. “Maybe my naked man magic would’ve been stronger with the Bare Oaks naturalists.”
“Still a hard pass.” I wave that away and pull my phone out of my pocket when it vibrates. I read the text from Sloan and smack my forehead. “Divining rod. Okay, that makes so much sense.”
“Do we know how to do that?”
I turn my cell for him to see. “Sloan sent us a spell.”
“Yay, Sloan! That boy is clenched tighter than a camel’s ass in a sandstorm, but he has know-how.”
“True story.” I skim through the spell and read what we need. “Okay, this looks doable. We need a forked branch from an oak or ash tree or a yew shrub.”
Emmet’s bright green eyes widen. “I can do oak. Do you have any idea what ash or yew look like?”
“No. Yew?”
Emmet snorts. “I see what yew did there. Yew so funny.”
“Oaky doaky, let’s get serious.”
“Oh, yew are such an ash.”
I look around. “Thankfully, there is no one here to hear us murdering humor.”
Emmet laughs. “Isn’t there a saying about cracking jokes like no one is watching?”
“That’s dancing.”
“Oh, then I’ve got nothing because I rock the dance floor. People should always watch me.”
I spot a forked branch in the scrub and bend—
The blur of a projectile whips past my face. The whistle makes me duck, and I drop as it thwacks into the trunk of the tree. “Incoming!”
The forest spins as I roll to my knees and scan the trees in the attack direction. “Emmet? You good?”
“Fine.” He runs low to the ground and slides in beside me behind the oak tree. “Did you see who’s shooting at us?”
“No. You?”
“No.”
I close my eyes and reach out to Bruin using the shared mental frequency we use without words. We have a hostile in the woods. Intel would be nice.
On my way to you.
“Bruin’s coming.” I lean forward, glance up the tree, and look at the feathered flight on the projectile that buzzed my ear. “It’s a dart.”
“Poisoned dart? Tranquilizer dart? Pub dart?”
“I can’t tell. No dartboard though, so not a pub dart.”
The rush of evergreen and outdoors breezes past me, and my heart rate eases a little. “Bruin’s here.”
A moment later, there’s a roar in the trees fifty yards away, then the crack of wood splitting. Another roar and Bruin tumbles out of the trees and rolls into view with creatures wildly attacking him.
“What the hell are those things attacking my bear?”
Emmet makes a face like he’s concentrating, then smiles. “River otters. Lontra canadensis. Carnivorous, semiaquatic mammals known to be an aggressive member of the weasel family.”
“Hey, Google, stop.”
As quickly as Bruin bats one away, two more climb him. I focus on his health and throw him some curative energy. “Cure Wounds.”
“What’s with the psycho attack otters?”
“No idea.”
“Stop,” someone yells while running from the trees. It’s a tall man, lean and ropey. While he looks dressed as a park worker, I see through his guise immediately. He’s man-pretty, like the elf who kissed me in the Doyle grove. He has long, sea-green hair and pale blue skin and is scantily clad in a seaweed skirt. “Don’t hurt my girls. Please.”
I’m about to stand when the tingle at the nape of my neck goes mental and my shield burns. “It’s a trick.”
I grab Emmet’s shoulder and roll him with me as I dive to the side. The air fills with the hollow clunk of a spiked net falling to the ground behind us. I press my hands to the soil and call upon the stone shield. “Wall of Stone.”
I raise my hand, and a protective blind grows out of the ground to shield my brother. “Detect Magic.”
I’m flooded by the awareness of magic all around us. And not just any magic… “That’s fae magic.”
Emmet grabs my wrist and raises his palm toward our attacker. “Siphon.”
The influx of energy is intoxicating, and I’m quite sure I am now heavily under the drunken influence of an inadvisable amount of fae power. “Birga, do you feel like coming out to play, girlfriend?”
I flex my wrist, and she’s firmly in my palm. I call on my gauntlets, and my skin alters with the effects of the bark protection. Standing tall, I round the stone wall and march at the scrawny man.
Birga spins in my palms and cuts the air with a whistle that sings to my soul. “Call off your pets, or they die.”
The man pales when his sight locks on my natural armor. Yeah, I have a feeling my Tough as Bark will always get that kind of response. ”Who are you?” His eyes are dark and rage-filled.
“Call them off.”
“What are you?”
I raise my hand toward my bear, tighten my fist in the air, and swing my grip. My magical hold on the whirling dervishes attacking my bear sends his otters flying.
The man screams.
He raises his palms toward the flying furballs, but after Emmet’s siphon, he doesn’t have the juice to soften their landing. They collide with trees and hit the ground hard.
I reach out with my instincts and pinpoint what he is. “Naiad, why did you attack us?”
He looks from me to Bruin to his otters. “You attack us.”
“No. You attacked us first. Your dart almost pegged me in the head, your rabid rodents went apeshit on my bear, and your felled net wasn’t a welcome mat.”
“You came to take our power. You project your intentions. You came to take what is ours. You attack us.”
Emmet joins me and frowns at the crazy man. “Okay, I give. What’s a Naiad?”
“Where Dryads are tree fae, Naiads are the energy of the rivers and streams. Gnomes live in the hills and mountains and under the earth. Sylphs float in the air. Faeries live in plants, herbs, and flowers. They all live behind the faery glass but have gateways to take on our material form to coexist with humans.”
Emmet swings his finger through the air, taking in Bruin, the downed net, and the flailing otters. “I wouldn’t exactly consider this coexisting.”
I chuff. “No kidding.”
“You have no right,” the Naiad snaps. “Our home. Our magic pond.”
Emmet’s brow arches and he smiles. “Magic pond, you say? And where might this magic pond be?”
Red, Bruin says. Some faeries are as likely to eat ye as help ye, but for them to assist humans, they must be asked. Some of the dim ones delight in attention. The more ye flatter, the more helpful they become.
Seriously? You want me to placate this turd after he tried to kill us?
Ye don’t have to, but ye want to learn about his magic pond and how to access the magic beneath the water. Seems to me that a water fae might be the one with aid to give.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “All right, let’s start on better terms, shall we? I am Fiona Cumhaill, a druid of the Ancient Order of Druids. I’m also a Fianna warrior. And you are?”
“Iridan.”
I turn to Emmet and point at the three furry and groaning mop heads lying stunned and mostly broken across the way. “Emmet, please heal Iridan’s girls.”
Emmet looks from them to the blood on my bear and makes a face. “And when they try to eat me?”
“They won’t.” I pierce the Naiad with a glare. “Will they, Iridan?”
He meets my glare with equal hostility. “You swear he’ll not hurt them more?”
“Not unless he’s defending himself. My brother is a gifted healer in the druid order. It would be his greatest honor to restore your beloveds to full health by way of an apology. We didn’t realize a fae such as yourself lived along the shore of this lake. Had we known, we would have brought you an offering befitting someone of your obvious standing.”
He smiles and lifts his chin. “Yes, we
ll, it was quite rude of you to show up unannounced.”
“Our bad.” I bite my tongue. “Now, if I tell my bear to stand down, do I have your word that there will be no further assaults? I’d hate for our first meeting to end in tragedy. Especially with the exciting news we have for you and the gift we came to deliver.”
“A gift? What gift?”
Yeah, not the brightest bulb. “We came to realign the ley lines in the area. It is our quest to free the magic beneath the stone. That was our intention, not to take it, but to release it.”
The man looks at me and wipes a hand over his face. “Truth?”
“Truth. And since you are familiar with these woods, perhaps you could help us find a forked branch of oak or ash we could use to divine where the ley lines lay.”
“Give me my powers back and I will.”
“Within the hour. You have my word.”
But not yet. I’m giddy with the amount of power coursing through my veins. If I’m to drill down five miles into solid rock, this is exactly the kind of power boost that will help me getter done.
Iridan glares, but in the end, he turns to where he shot the dart from. A moment later, he returns with a strong branch with a definite ‘y’ at one end. “Will this do?”
I nod, having no idea. “Perfectly. You did well.”
I take the stick from him and he stares. I can’t remember the spell and don’t want to blow my cover by letting it slip that I’m a novice who has to read it. To get him to stop staring at me, I point toward Emmet. “Go check on your girls. I’m sure they’ll be comforted by your presence.”
He seems to like that idea and shuffles off.
Layin’ it on a little thick, aren’t ye, Red?
I have no idea. He’s only going to be honored by my attention if he thinks I’m something special.
So, prove to him that yer something special.
I call up Sloan’s text, reach into my pocket to grip my casting stones, and read out the spell.
“Hold onto it, Emmet!” I chase my brother as he is dragged through the woods on his belly like a criminal behind a horse in an old western. He has a death grip on the divining rod and to say it’s working would be the understatement of the century. His jeans are riding dangerously low considering the likelihood of poison ivy, and I’m already carrying the shoe he lost when he got air flying over a log.
A Sacred Grove (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 2) Page 18