The One and Only Crystal Druid (The Guild Codex: Unveiled Book 1)

by Annette Marie

  Not evil. Not heartless. Not unnecessarily violent—at least, not that I’d seen. He genuinely cared about the deaths of wildlife and fae, and he’d gone out of his way to protect me without asking for anything in return.

  How did a man like that end up with a one-point-three-million-dollar bounty on his head?

  “I think there’s another side to him,” I finally said. “So far, I’ve seen the Crystal Druid, but he’s also called the Ghost—and that’s the alias that earned all the charges against him.”

  Ríkr’s tail lashed from side to side. That’s my clever dove.

  Snorting quietly, I shook my head. “Were you worried I was going soft on him?”

  I was concerned a deceptive and alluring manipulator was spinning a hidden web that you could not perceive.

  Packing my recyclables into the grocery bag with my uneaten soup, I rose to my feet. I couldn’t be sure whether Zak was spinning webs, but I did know there was much more to the Crystal Druid for me to unveil.

  The clinic was closed and the others had gone home for the night. One vet remained, completing paperwork in her office, while I finished the last of the cleaning. No MPD agents had made an appearance, and I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing. They were in the area. Maybe they were collecting more evidence before arresting me.

  I didn’t dare hope they lacked sufficient evidence to arrest me.

  My thoughts all afternoon had fluctuated between MagiPol paranoia and pointless analysis of Zak and his true nature, whatever that might be. It hadn’t helped that every time I’d walked into a room, the other techs had been whispering about “Saber’s hot boyfriend.”

  Hot. Gorgeous. Rugged. Hunk. Man-candy. All words they’d been tossing around.

  I chewed my lower lip as I tidied up the cleaning supplies. They weren’t wrong. His features were striking. Beautiful even, and he exuded a magnetism that was difficult to explain. Plus, he was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, with a commanding physical presence almost as strong as his druidic aura.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. Grateful for the distraction, I pulled it out, glanced at the caller ID, and answered, “Hi Dominique.”

  “Saber.” She sounded troubled. “You know how you asked about the necropsy for Harvey Whitby’s palomino?”

  I shut the storage room door, enclosing myself inside. “Yes.”

  “The vet doing it called me. He was tracking down the new owner of Harvey’s other horses.”

  “He was? Why?”

  “He’d just finished the necropsy, and …” She gulped as though to steady herself. “He said the horse’s heart was … gone.”

  Adrenaline spiked in my blood.

  “The vet opened the horse up, and the coronary arteries and veins just … ‘shriveled up to nothing,’ is what he said. The heart was missing entirely. But that—that’s impossible.” She laughed shrilly, then cut herself off with a cough. “He swears the horse’s chest cavity was intact, with no damage or anything that would suggest the heart had been removed.”

  I stared at the wall, seeing the small herd of dead bucks in my mind’s eye. Seeing Arla slumped over her desk.

  “The vet wants me to bring the other two horses in for chest x-rays. He’s theorizing about some sort of crazy new virus that attacks heart tissue, but he probably just messed up the necropsy somehow. Maybe he missed a wound or … something.”

  How could an experienced vet fail to notice a wound large enough to extract ten pounds of muscle and arteries from the horse’s chest?

  “Anyway,” she said weakly, “thought I’d fill you in since you were asking about it. Were you expecting something like this?”

  “No.” My voice was almost as thin as hers. “I wasn’t expecting this at all.”

  A short pause. “Will you be home in time for dinner? Greta is making maultaschen dumplings.”

  A shimmering flash of white in my peripheral vision. Feline-form Ríkr trotted through the closed door, probably sensing my distress. His gaze lifted questioningly.

  “I can’t,” I replied, my voice hoarsening. “There’s something I need to do this evening.”

  “All right. I’ll save you some, so just grab it out of the fridge when you get home.”

  “Thanks. By the way, did those men in suits come back today?”

  “No, no one was here except Colby for a few hours.”

  “Okay. See you later, Dominique.”

  “Take care, Saber.”

  I disconnected the call and my arm fell to my side. My pulse thudded in my ears, blood rushing. Dread roiled through me, wavering dangerously close to outright fear.

  Saber? Ríkr prompted.

  “The killer is stealing hearts,” I whispered. “The palomino’s heart was gone. That’s how all the animals and fae have died.”

  He was silent for a moment, then concluded, And that is how Arla died.

  “Yes, and the MPD knows it. That’s why they’re investigating … and that’s why they haven’t tried to interview me yet. They think I killed her with some kind of dark, heart-vanishing magic, and they’d don’t want to set me off. Maybe they missed me on purpose yesterday.”

  They are dancing around you, Ríkr mused. Keeping you in their sights without cornering you.

  How could the MPD be so naïve as to think a witch could wield magic capable of stealing someone’s heart from their chest without inflicting a wound? That wasn’t the kind of magic fae gifted to anyone.

  Was there any way to prove my innocence? How long until the agents moved against me? Zak and I still had no clues, no strong leads.

  But we knew the killer had targeted Arla. Had she known something significant enough for them to consider her a threat? If she had, I needed to know what.

  Lifting my phone again, I pulled up the new listing in my contacts called “CD.” Crystal Druid. We’d exchanged numbers before he’d taken my truck, and I was now glad we had. He was back out on the forested slopes of Mount Burke, searching for more clues, and he needed to know what we were dealing with sooner rather than later. I typed a brief message.

  I found out how the palomino died. The killer is definitely a fae. Contact me as soon as you have reception.

  I hit send, stuffed my phone in my pocket, then paused. Jaw tightening, I yanked my phone back out, typed two more words, and sent them before I could overthink it.

  Be careful.

  Jamming my phone into my pocket again, I swept out of the storage room, Ríkr trotting at my heels. We had no time to waste.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I drove through the privacy hedge around Arla’s property, and my shoulders stiffened with new tension. A row of cars was parked in front of the house, bathed in the golden beams of the evening sun.

  The coven had gathered—and no one had told me.

  A bad sign.

  Coven meetings always took place outside unless the weather was poor. The witches were probably in the trees somewhere. I might have enough time to get in and out before they returned.

  I backed my truck up behind Laney’s silver Prius, ensuring I could make a quick escape. “Ríkr, can you find the coven and warn me when they head back this way?”

  The white cat on my passenger seat slanted his ears sideways. Leave it to me.

  I opened my door and he leaped over my legs, landing on the gravel drive outside. He took two bounding leaps, then transformed into a screech owl and flew toward the trees. As he disappeared, I reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out a small lock-picking kit. I suspected Laney had deleted my access code for the lock, but even if she hadn’t, I didn’t intend to use it.

  Calm quiet lay over the property as I went to work on the front bolt. I twisted the tiny wrench, the bolt turned, and then I was inside.

  The house was dead silent. I stood in the entryway for a long moment, listening, then ghosted down the hall. The kitchen and living room appeared empty; no one was home. My boots were silent on the carpeted stairs as I headed up. The door to Arla’s
office was closed. I’d half expected it to be barricaded with police tape.

  I tugged a handkerchief from my pocket and covered my hand before trying the handle. Locked. It took two seconds to pop the lock, then I swung the door open. A wave of reeking air hit me in the face. Laney hadn’t cleaned up.

  My gaze skimmed the room as I stepped inside. As far as I could see, nothing had been touched. Had the MPD been through here? Or were they waiting for a future stage of the investigation?

  The empty desk chair drew my focus like a magnet. Despite the countless times I’d seen Arla sitting in that chair, alive and well, all I could see now was her limp body slumped in it.

  I nudged the chair out of the way and faced the desk. A framed photo from last summer, Arla’s large glasses slipping down her nose and Laney’s natural brown hair curly with a perm she’d hated the moment she’d gotten it done, sat beside the monitor. Using my hanky to keep my fingerprints off any surfaces, I wiggled the mouse to wake the machine. The screens blinked awake, revealing a login screen.

  Her computer was locked? When I’d found her body, the screens had been glowing with a map of the crossroads valley and Zak’s bounty listing. I clicked in the password box, the cursor blinking expectantly, but I couldn’t even guess.

  Giving up on the computer, I shuffled through the items on her desk. There wasn’t much—bills, reminders, MPD paperwork, and an agenda book. What had I expected? A folder labeled “Suspicious Fae Activity”? Pushing my loose hair off my shoulders and fighting my hot frustration, I stepped back. Should I check the closet?

  Using my hanky, I rolled Arla’s chair back into the spot where I’d found it. The wheel caught, grinding on something.

  I crouched. On the stained floor beneath the chair, a gold chain was caught under the wheel. Lifting it, I slid the object out. A heart-shaped locket. I pried it open and squinted at the two tiny photos inside: Laney and a vaguely familiar man.

  Tension prickled through me. I didn’t know why, but I was suddenly certain that I needed to leave. I slid the locket into my back pocket, then sped across the office and closed the door, ensuring it was locked as I’d found it. Back down the stairs. Along the hall. I slipped out the front door and locked it as well, glancing over my shoulder for any sign of Ríkr.

  Three steps away from my truck, I pulled up short as a voice spoke.

  “Returning to the scene of your crimes, Saber?”

  Around the corner of the house, the entire coven stood in the shadows, watching me. Short, heavyset Deanna held a shimmering green orb the size of a beach ball in her hands, and inside it, a snow-white owl glared with furious blue eyes. Her pixie familiar sat on top of the orb, her dragonfly wings fluttering for balance and her tiny hands glowing as she maintained the magic that had captured Ríkr.

  Laney stepped to the front of the group, glowering at me with unmitigated hatred.

  “Trying to clean up the crime scene?” she asked venomously. “Or did you come to rob me now that you’ve killed my mother?”

  “I didn’t kill her,” I said automatically.

  Laney’s features contorted with rage and grief. “I found you standing over her body!”

  “Why would I kill—”

  “Save it, Saber.” She drew herself up, her tone shifting to one of command. “As acting guild master of the Coquitlam Coven, I am detaining you on suspicion of killing Arla Collins.”

  “You are detaining me?”

  “If you didn’t do it”—her lip curled in a skeptical sneer—“then you have nothing to worry about. You can stand trial in front of your fellow witches and prove your innocence.”

  A sharp, twitchy feeling rolled down my back and through my limbs. “Stand trial? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The coven is putting you on trial for murder,” Laney said coldly. She gestured at the witches standing with her. “We’ve all agreed that we deserve the truth. You’ll stand before us first, then we’ll present our findings to the MPD.”

  Scarcely able to believe what I was hearing, I scanned the coven’s faces and realized Pierce wasn’t with them. He wouldn’t have agreed to this insanity.

  I flicked a glance over my shoulder. My truck was right behind me. I could leave—but I couldn’t abandon Ríkr.

  “Let my familiar go,” I said flatly.

  “You were hiding his powers.” Laney waved at the green sphere trapping him. “You never once said he could shapeshift.”

  “Why does that matter?” I looked to Ellen, the most senior coven member. “You can’t seriously support this. A witch trial?”

  The elderly witch, who’d always been friendly before now, peered down her nose at me like I was grimy slug in her garden. “I’m wondering why an innocent witch is protesting the chance to show her coven that she isn’t responsible for a heinous crime.”

  My hands curled into fists. I was innocent, but I couldn’t prove it. I couldn’t prove anything. I couldn’t even explain why I was here. They’d probably watched me pick the front lock and enter the house like a thief.

  With that thought, I realized nothing I said, now or during their “trial,” would convince them I wasn’t a killer.

  People knew. They could sense that I was dangerous. That I was capable of violence. No matter how nice I acted, the best I could do was make them second guess what their instincts were telling them—and at the slightest confirmation, they always turned on me.

  Seven years as a member of their coven, and this was all it had taken for them to label me an enemy.

  “You killed your aunt ten years ago,” Laney declared, a faint tremor tainting her words. “And you killed my mother. You’ll stand before the coven and confess your crimes, then the MPD will convict you—and execute you.”

  My chest filled with shards of bloody glass, shredding my lungs with each breath I took. Shards. Shattered pieces. The broken remains of who I might’ve been had life been different. The sharp, gouging remnants of a functioning human being.

  The snap of my switchblade extending rang through the silence. I didn’t recall drawing it from my pocket.

  “I didn’t kill Arla.” My voice was low, husky. “But if you don’t release my familiar, you’ll find out what happens when I actually want someone dead.”

  Laney’s face went white. “You wouldn’t dare—”

  My feet moved. I was walking toward her. Gliding. The air shivered around me, and a soft hum escaped my lips—the first notes of a haunting old Irish melody.

  They were backing away. They were afraid. Finally, they were afraid. I didn’t have to play at being someone else. I didn’t have to hide my teeth, pretend, fake every word and expression.

  I smiled, and it wasn’t the “nice Saber” smile. It was my real one. The one that found its way across my lips when the blood rushed in my veins and I felt alive. I felt powerful. I felt like myself, not a stupid, vapid, declawed fake.

  “Release him,” I suggested, the words crooning.

  Laney lurched back into Nina. “Ungel!”

  At her cry, a bright orange lizard the size of an iguana appeared on her shoulder. His bright yellow eyes flashed as he raised his head, his throat bulging. He spat a mouthful of flame.

  As the sparks scattered through the air, they swelled into the shape of fiery butterflies. Tiny wings fluttering, the swarm rushed toward me. I coiled to dive beneath them—and the air beside me shimmered as a waist-high shape appeared.

  Ellen’s stocky hob slammed into my side, grabbing hold of my left leg. He wrapped his thick arms around my thigh and squeezed. I tried to wrench away, but despite his size, he was powerful and heavy. His pupilless brown eyes stared up at me as he crushed my leg, holding me in place as the swarm of burning butterflies closed in. Heat washed over me, fast growing painful.

  As the fluttering, flaming wings formed into a fiery dome, Laney called shakily, “You will stand trial in front of this coven, Saber. We aren’t giving you a choice.”

  Spinning my knife in my hand, I
coiled my arm to drive the blade into the hob’s face.

  The writhing swarm of flaming butterflies rushed toward me, their heat scorching my skin—and a gust of wind blasted over me, snuffing out the fiery insects. Unnatural gloom dimmed the evening sun, drenching the yard in deep shadows.

  The air cooled, the darkness thickened, and power buzzed across my senses—familiar power. The flow of energy through the earth twisted as a fae moved from the ethereal demesne and into the physical plane.

  Shadows coiled in front of me, then solidified into a … a woman.

  Around my height. Porcelain skin. Silky raven hair that swept down her back to her knees, the locks drifting around her as though a gentle breeze were caressing her. Silky garments clung to her curvaceous figure and left her smooth midriff and flat stomach exposed. The layers in her long skirt revealed glimpses of lean, graceful legs.

  Her inhuman emerald eyes moved across my face, then turned down to the hob clinging to my leg.

  “Move,” she commanded in a throaty purr.

  The hob released me and scrambled backward, his thick features contorted with fear. Her full red lips curved into a pleased smile. Her hands floated up, the movement dripping grace.

  “Stop!” Laney shouted. “You can’t—”

  The fae woman lay cool hands on my shoulders.

  Power rushed over me, a tingling weightlessness, and the world dissolved into mist and shadow. Laney and the rest of the coven turned to dim silhouettes that kept fading. The house and trees shimmered into dark semi-transparency, and pale fog swirled and eddied around me. A soft rushing noise filled my ears.

  Holding my shoulders, the fae asked, “Are you harmed?”

  “No.” My voice sounded oddly deadened, as though I were in a soundproof room.

  “Excellent.” The corners of her mouth lifted into a wider smile, and she leaned so close our lips almost touched. “Then I have no need to waste energy punishing pathetic witches over an even more wretchedly pathetic witch.”