Page 12 of Druid Cursed

CHAPTER

Even after a speed-walk back to Ravenwood Mansion and a quick, fruitless search through the main gardens for Wendy, Maggie’s mood remained on fuming.

Kellen had trailed her the entire way like a dark shadow, keeping a careful distance—a smart move on his part.

The door to her room slammed behind her.

She didn’t usually surrender to violent tendencies, but the way he had enchanted her and in the same breath kept dangerous secrets just… totally sucked .

Laughter drew her to the windows. In the gardens beyond, guests dressed in black cloaks and wearing crowns of twisted rowan branches, the berries blood-red, scrambled among hedges and gargoyles.

They all carried woven baskets filled with different items, some plants, others moss or rocks.

A woman with long hair the color of moonlight ran down the pavestone path, chased by a man wearing antlers and no shirt.

Mushrooms spilled from her basket as he swept her up, scattering white on the grass.

Other guests lunged for the mushrooms and ran off with their stolen prizes while she shrieked and struggled.

Samhain week at Ravenwood made people do strange things.

And she was no exception. The fact she was here at all was proof.

Maggie flopped onto the couch. She tugged at her bracelet, the last birthday gift her dad had given her before he died.

The magnetite beads gleamed in the light, sparks dancing off the polished gray agates in between.

If she didn’t win, her dad’s house would be sold to the highest bidder.

In six days, she’d be a homeless, out-of-work, discarded housewife.

Dammit, where was Wendy when she really needed a pep talk?

As if conjured by the thought, the door opened, and Wendy walked in.

Her red hair was up in a messy, don’t-care pile, and she still wore her pajama bottoms and True Blood T-shirt from last night.

Wendy never went out in public looking less than perfect, and doing it here, where rich bachelors lurked around corners?

She was obviously not recovered from last night.

But nothing weird reflected in her dark-green eyes as she shut the door with a secret smile.

“Are you okay?” Maggie jumped up. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. You left your phone behind. I was worried.”

Wendy frowned slightly at her phone resting on the table by the door, then slipped it into her pajama pocket. “Mags, did you know that besides the five swimming pools and three hot tubs scattered around the estate, there’s a hot spring in a hidden garden that you can only find by accident?”

“Um, no.” But after seeing the abandoned castle in the forest, she wasn’t surprised.

She gave her friend a hug, then eased back enough to study her face. Wendy wore no makeup, and dirt smudged her chin. She smelled like the outdoors, smoke, and herbs. “That’s what you were doing all this time? Searching for Ravenwood mysteries?”

Wendy paused and blinked several times. “Naturally. And playing seductress to a rich businessman who traded jacket and tie for his birthday suit to snuggle up in the hot springs with me. As it should be.” She gripped Maggie’s elbows, her fingers icy and unyielding.

“Maggie, there is so much to do and so little time.”

“Well, that’s all on you for signing us up, right?” She pulled the earring she’d found in the woods from her pocket. “Lost something?”

Wendy took the earring with shaking fingers. “You found it.” Her voice trembled slightly. She held Maggie’s gaze. “Keep watch for me, Mags.”

A chilled draft slithered into the room, cold enough to sneak through her sweater and make Maggie shiver. “Did you lose the other earring, too? I have to head out for the first ritual in a few, but let’s get some coffee afterward and search for it together. You’ll never believe what happened—”

Wendy quickly shook her head. “Too much to do.” She shoved an envelope at Maggie. “A vital task for you in my absence.”

Written? Why not just tell her? “But—”

“No arguing. I need your help. If you fail me, we’ll both lose.” Before Maggie could respond, Wendy was out the door.

“Wait!” She grabbed the handle as the door swung closed and jerked it open. “Where are you going now?”

The hallway was empty. Only the lingering scent of burnt herbs and the envelope in her hand confirmed Wendy had been there at all.

Maggie walked back into the room, closing the door behind her. All the excitement, the mansion’s archaic aura, and aftereffects of being sick must have addled Wendy’s brain.

The white envelope held a smudged fingerprint, and her name, in Wendy’s neat handwriting, flowed across the outside. It looked like she’d used ink and quill, a perfect touch of old fashioned that only a best friend would know a history nerd like Maggie would appreciate.

She flipped the envelope over. It had been sealed with red wax, but no raven stamped into it this time. The imprinted design of a scythe choked by brambles gave her a creepy feeling, like having an insect crawling through her hair. Carefully, she peeled it open and read inside.

Three items to find before the new moon

A ring with a secret

A boy’s hidden key

A rock touched by magic

Defeat my enemy to set me free

That conniving, sneaky, wonderful, redhead vixen.

Maggie grinned. Wendy knew how much she loved scavenger hunts, puzzles, and riddles.

For every haunted house tour Wendy tortured her with, they’d agree to do something Maggie loved.

She had yet to meet an escape room she didn’t adore, even when she failed to get out.

She should’ve expected Wendy would find an activity while they were here to take her mind off the possibility of losing… everything.

From the start, Wendy was the one person who had taken the time to crack her introvert shell and really get to know her.

She knew when to listen, when to talk, and when to kick her ass out of thinking and into action.

There was no one else in the world like Wendy, and she’d never quite understand why Wendy chose her.

Maggie turned the card over. On the back, Wendy had written the first clue.

Go to the castle tower in the woods.

Thank you, Kellen Ravenwood, for unknowingly showing her where to find the first item on the list. She grabbed her room key, opened the door, and nearly tripped into a man standing right there .

Jeeves stood in the hallway as if expecting her to escape that very second. He bowed, simultaneously fluid and formal. “Miss O’Malley. Your presence is required at the sacred oak grove immediately for the first ritual. I am here to escort you.”

Her heart rabbit-hopped as he held her gaze. Of course, the ritual. Wendy’s scavenger hunt would have to wait.

He pivoted on his heel and swept an arm elegantly toward the stairway. “Shall we? The other participants await your arrival.”

“All of them? It’s not nine o’clock yet.”

“The other competitors chose to arrive early.” He watched her, unblinking.

“Okay then,” she said with a sigh. “Escort away.”

She followed Jeeves through the maze-like corridors of the mansion and into the gardens. Then he led her toward an oak grove so grand and gnarled, it had to be remnants of a primeval forest from before men roamed the earth. A hush fell as she slipped into the gloom beneath their tangled branches.

Jeeves halted at the border. “The walkway will lead you to the appointed location, Miss O’Malley. Do not stray from the trail.”

The warning prickled her neck. The path meandered between ferns and tree trunks wider than both Ravenwood twins put together before disappearing around a bend.

Mist floated along its edge like thick smoke.

“Are there grumpy bears I need to worry about? Territorial bobcats? A pack of rabid wolves? Nettles and poison ivy?”

When Jeeves didn’t answer, she pivoted back to the sunlight. He was gone. Of course.

She took a steadying breath. Nothing to do but forge onward.

Moss and pine needles silenced her steps, and her breath clouded in air suddenly cold and scented with clover.

A pale moth fluttered from a toadstool scabbing a rotted log and seemed to lead her way along the path.

A strange sense of crossing the border separating reality and dreams coasted through her, both thrilling and spooky.

Betwixt and between . One of Aunt Maeve’s favorite terms.

The path curled around what had to be the great-grandmother of all oaks, and Maggie dragged her fingertips reverently over the rough bark as she circled its massive trunk.

She could have sworn the limbs trembled, its leaves sighing in response.

Or maybe she was just in desperate need of a second coffee.

On the other side of the tree, Maggie paused.

A clearing the size of a modest backyard swept out before her, guarded by menacing oaks on all sides.

About a dozen people, some she recognized from last night’s dinner, kneeled on the grass in a perfect circle, barefoot and silent.

Her fellow competitors. Some had feathers in their hair, others leaves or flowers.

Mist blurred their edges into silhouettes, and moisture glittered on their faces.

A bowl sat center stage on a flat stone the size of a garden sundial.

Smoke smelling suspiciously like sage billowed from it, blending with the mist. She swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat.

The atmosphere reminded her too much of her Aunt Maeve and The Incident, the entire reason she avoided all things supernatural.

Mistakenly interrupting a scary, mystical ceremony as a child was more than enough trauma for a lifetime.

“Little sparrow.” Caedmon broke from the tree trunk he’d been leaning against, and Maggie nearly jumped. The black hood he wore added a sinister vibe. “Timely as ever.”

“I was…preoccupied.”

“Yes, carousing with my brother.” His teeth flashed white in the gloom.