Page 13 of Druid Cursed
One of the other contestants muttered something beneath his breath, clearly annoyed at the delay. Maggie ignored him. By her estimation, she was right on time.
“I did not carouse.” She narrowed her eyes at Caedmon, and when his smile widened, she huffed. “I found my missing friend, no thanks to you Ravenwoods.”
Now his smile seemed frozen in plaster. “Excellent. I’ll call the hell hounds off the hunt, and we’ll all sleep sound tonight. If you’ll please remove your shoes?”
Hell hounds? She bit back a retort. As she kicked off her boots and socks, Kellen drifted in from the mist, looking as if he’d stepped out of a haunted mirror. Like Caedmon, he wore a thick black cloak, oversize hood up. Runes glimmered silver on the cuffs and collar.
“Maggie.” Her name, said in that deep, lilting voice, shot electricity through her nerves.
His gaze fixed on her, he crossed the few steps between them and stopped beside his twin.
“May I?” He held out a glossy black feather, a delicate strip of leather wrapped around the quill with a sprig of lavender flowers.
Try as she might, she couldn’t remember why she’d walked away from him earlier, what he’d done to rile her up. Unable to look away, she nodded, her throat too tight to talk. Her heart pattered faster.
Solemnly, he took a lock of her hair and nimbly wound the feather and flower through the strands.
He finished tucking it behind her ear, and as he drew back, his knuckles grazed her cheek, leaving a trail of warmth.
He pushed a bracelet of tawny-colored agates onto her wrist and leaned near, not releasing her hand.
“You have naught to fear in this sacred place.”
“Good to know. I wasn’t so sure, walking here.”
“Oh, aye.” He straightened. “Do not stray from the path for any reason.”
She really wished he’d said it with a hint of humor.
“If you’ll be so kind as to take your place between Patrick and Cara, we’ll get this party started.” Caedmon gestured toward the empty spot between Cara and the gorgeous, snooty guy who’d found her unworthy of even speaking to last night.
Great . She’d been hoping to spend every minute of the contest with her two new favorite people.
The wet grass and earth squished like a sponge beneath her bare feet as she took her spot in the circle of competitors and lowered to the ground.
“And here I was believing that kneeling in the cold for the last ten minutes was a test of our patience,” Patrick said beneath his breath. “Now I see it was just to wait for the latecomer.”
“It’s only just now nine o’clock,” Maggie muttered back, her face heating at the callout. “I followed my instructions explicitly. You’re the ones who all went off script.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Cara start to smile, but she couldn’t be sure if it was meant to be with her or at her.
Hoods up, Kellen and Caedmon entered the circle from opposite ends.
They both spoke quietly in Gaelic—she assumed—as they strode with slow, measured steps.
Kellen’s cloak brushed the grass as he swept by, and maybe it was her imagination, but the green blades seemed to brighten beneath his feet.
The brothers met at the middle, the bowl between them.
Maggie focused on the bowl and the smoke rolling out from it, her hands damp with nerves.
Caedmon struck the rock with a stick, and water burbled up from its base, a neat trick.
There had to be a pipe or something under there.
Kellen reached inside a leather pouch at his side and sprinkled powder the shade of periwinkle over the bowl.
The substance sparkled like fireflies as it floated through the smoke.
A sweet, flowery scent filled the air, and the smoke thickened, choking out sight.
Cara and Patrick, Kellen and Caedmon became nothing more than silhouettes in the gloom.
The earth rumbled, and Maggie planted her palms on the ground, steadying herself.
Between one blink and the next, the smoke and mist vanished.
A pool of clear, blue water lapped at her knees, centered perfectly within the circle of competitors.
The same rock that had held the bowl rose from the depths.
Dragonflies skimmed the water’s surface, iridescent shades of green, cerulean, and purple.
What the hell? Was this a hologram? Or were they drugged?
Beside her, Cara gazed at the water, her brown eyes wide. A heavy quiet settled over the clearing, and no one seemed brave enough to break it with words. Whatever Kellen had put in the smoke was some pretty powerful stuff.
“Friends, now the initiation may begin.” Hands tucked in his cloak, hood flung away from his face, Caedmon surveyed them, like a king before his subjects. “Each of you will retrieve a rock from the pool. What you choose, how you respond, will inform the Fates of your worthiness to continue.”
Maggie’s pulse ticked faster. Sounded easy enough. Too easy. Being sized up by some mysterious source—if she had to guess, the Ravenwoods—wouldn’t be in her favor, especially after she’d snapped at Kellen and ditched him. Her dreams were doomed.
“I have no problem going first.” Cara pushed up the sleeve of her cashmere sweater and leaned over the water. She stared into its depths for a long moment, all attention on her. “Beautiful,” she murmured. “All of them. I hardly know which one to choose.”
“Choose the one that calls to you,” Kellen said into the stillness, his voice kind.
She glanced up at him, and her eyelashes fluttered, color staining her cheeks. “I will.”
Maggie’s stomach twisted. Cara would be perfect for Kellen. So why did the thought of them together make her want to rip up the grass and throw it at them, clods of dirt and all?
She wasn’t the jealous type. And she had nothing to be jealous about. Focus .
Cara dipped her slender hand beneath the surface and reached for the gleaming pebbles resting on the bottom. The water rose to her elbow as her brow furrowed. She then straightened, triumphant, a smooth, black rock held in her fingers.
A faint hum rippled through the ground, so brief Maggie chalked it up to nerves and whatever powder Kellen had tossed into the air. But when both Kellen and Caedmon glowed subtly, a flicker there and gone, she wasn’t so sure.
“Well chosen, Miss Farley.” Caedmon nodded at her from across the water. “The Fates have deemed you worthy to continue.”
Cara smiled, brilliant. A breeze fluttered through the spiral curls of black hair framing her gorgeous face, as if an invisible movie set fan focused on the star of the show.
The man on the other side of Cara pushed up his sleeve and drove his pale, freckled arm into the water, apparently emboldened by her easy victory.
In less than two seconds, he lifted a white rock as large as his hand.
It gleamed with moisture and tiny flecks of embedded crystals, lovely in the light.
Maggie waited for the hum in the earth again, a faint shimmer from either twin. Neither came. She really must have imagined it before.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor. The Fates have spoken, and you may not proceed to the next round.” Caedmon strolled toward them, his trademark smile missing. His eyes resembled black pits, fathomless and empty of emotion. “Jeeves will escort you and your guest off the premises.”
He snapped his fingers, and as Mr. Taylor opened his mouth, a wall of mist rolled over from the pool and enveloped him. The haze limned his silhouette in silver for a moment before fading away, taking the man with it.
What in the hopping hairy hell? Maggie blinked, stunned. More Ravenwood Halloween theatrics? That had to be the explanation—her brain couldn’t process any other possibility.
“Little sparrow.” Caedmon crouched beside her, blocking out Cara completely. “It’s your turn.”
Her heart pounding, she nodded and leaned carefully over the pool. Not a single ripple marred the water’s surface. Her reflection stared back. Behind her, mirrored in the water, both Caedmon and Kellen stood over her like two dark, deadly gargoyles ready to attack upon failure.
Maggie blew out a slow breath and focused.
A smorgasbord of rocks in every size, shape, and shade waited beneath the clear surface, shining softly in the light.
How was she supposed to know which one to choose?
The violet one—her favorite color? The smooth jade shaped like an arrowhead?
An obsidian mammoth that matched Kellen’s eyes?
“Listen to your heart,” Cara whispered, barely audible. The encouragement was so unexpected, Maggie looked up. Cara remained gazing into the water, but her expression held no hint of cruelty or trickery. If anything, she looked thunderstruck, as if she’d just caught a glimpse of God.
Maggie’s hand shook as she reached into the water, surprised at its warmth.
Concentrate on the stones. Her fingertips brushed the bottom of the pool and the waiting pebbles.
A rock the shade of midnight glinted in the sun, catching her attention.
Another one a curious bronze hue was equally pretty.
Neither one screamed to be the one-way ticket to passing the initiation.
For several breaths, she skimmed the rocks, hoping for some sign—an electric sting, a trick of light, hell, she’d settle for a sharp edge that drew blood—but no single stone called to her more than another.
She was going to lose on day one, no home to return to, no money to get it back.
Her dreams would die beneath a hamster wheel routine of scraping by, the idea of running her own boutique gone beneath worry and bills she couldn’t pay.
“Little sparrow, you must make your selection before nightfall.” Laughter laced Caedmon’s voice. “Some of us have been out here longer than others, and I, for one, need sustenance. Or at least a whiskey to tide me over.”
She scowled at his reflection. “Don’t you have a flask in your pocket?”
“Aye, he no doubt does.” Kellen folded his arms, glaring at his brother.
“With all manners of extra ingredients to bespell the innocent.” Before she could question that, he moved toward her and said, “Yet he is correct, Maggie. Overthinking your choice will not assist in any manner. Do not allow fear to guide you.” He crouched beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder, a warm, steady weight.
“Close your eyes. Take a breath and settle yourself. Connect with the earth and water. Feel the elements in your soul.”
Sure, why not? Because it was that easy.
But it wasn’t like she was getting anywhere on her own, so she’d give his version a try.
She closed her eyes, drew in a long breath, and released it, shutting out Patrick’s snicker and the murmur of the other competitors, the very real possibility that she would not only embarrass herself royally, but be kicked out of the competition in a puff of mist like Mr. Taylor.
The warm water caressed her skin, a bathwater lull calling her to relax. Grass and soil gently supported her knees. The whisper of a distant breeze spoke a language she couldn’t quite decipher. She had the distinct sensation that if she listened hard enough, long enough, she might understand.
Keeping her eyes shut, her breaths slow and even, she brushed over the rocks waiting at the bottom of the shallow pool. She felt both smooth and rough surfaces, searching with senses other than sight or touch alone, hoping for—
There .
She went still, hovering over a rock the size of her fist. There wasn’t an electric shock or a shiver of heat or ice. Simply a…knowing, like a night wind whispering her name. She opened her eyes and lifted the amber stone from the water.
The hum in the earth beneath her didn’t come. Her stomach sank. She’d chosen wrong.
Maggie forced herself to meet Kellen’s gaze in the water’s reflection. No matter what she would find in his eyes, she wasn’t looking forward to it.
But instead of Kellen, an old woman stared back at her.
She whirled. The circle of competitors had disappeared along with Kellen and Caedmon.
Mist filled the clearing like heavy smoke, the trees making twisted shapes in the gloom.
A few feet away, a crone leaned on a crooked staff, her waist-length gray hair twisted with moss, feathers, and twigs.
Her eyes glittered, shrewd and toxic-green like poison.
“Who are you?” Maggie’s voice cracked, the rush of blood in her head loud as a waterfall. A dizzying sense of déjà vu held her frozen, her feet concreted to the ground.
The air buzzed like a radio station on static, laced with the scent of burnt holly. Danger bit at her senses as the woman smiled in a show of stained teeth.
A man draped in a black cloak appeared in the haze, and even though shadows hid his face, she recognized Kellen.
His fingers glinted with dark-metal rings.
An animal skull decorated with black feathers topped the staff in his hand.
His other hand fisted at his side. The cloak billowed, revealing a glimpse of bare skin covered in silver whorls.
She recognized the knotwork symbols and raiment immediately, if only seen before in her studies.
Druid.
For a second, his feral gaze met hers, and the intensity of his awareness invaded her, shot into her blood like falling stars. Liquid heat pooled in her belly, electrifying every nerve. Never had a man looked so primal, powerful, and utterly perilous, a sliver of fantasy from a different world.
He looked to the old woman and bared his teeth in a snarl.
The crone spun, aiming her staff at Kellen. At the same moment, Kellen unfurled his fist. Light flashed from his hand, and energy exploded in a combustion that knocked Maggie backward, into the pool. She gasped as water, icy instead of the warmth from before, closed over her face.
Someone dragged her up, and she spluttered for air. Flailing, she frantically swiped wet hair from her eyes.
Caedmon held her elbows and studied her, unsmiling. Kellen stood behind him, arms crossed, looking dark and grim. He was fully dressed, no rings or staff with skull and feathers. Patrick, Cara, and the rest of the competitors all watched in wide-eyed silence.
“I’m sorry, little sparrow.” Caedmon released her and stepped back.
Her heart sank, and tears blurred her vision. Rejected. She was out of the competition, lost any chance of winning the cash she so badly needed to survive.
“I, too, am sorry, Maggie.” Kellen pulled up his hood. “The Fates have chosen you.”
“Wait, what?” She blinked at him, sure she misheard. “I’m in?”
“Aye.” Kellen swept away, his cloak billowing exactly like it had in the vision she’d had, inspired by wicked herbs cast into flames. “There is no escape for you now.”