Page 19 of Druid Cursed

“We already have the counter-spell, you know that.” Caedmon’s smile faded. “But I know what you’re really asking, and no, I haven’t found an alternative to sacrificing Maggie. Even Jeeves has unearthed nothing in his ancient brain. We need to start considering—”

Kellen had reached across the table and fisted Caedmon’s collar without even thinking, his brother’s unspoken words a match igniting his anger. “Slaying Maggie?” he snarled in Caedmon’s face. “Never.”

“Calm down.” Caedmon jerked free of Kellen’s grasp and smoothed his button-down shirt. “Have you discussed any of it with her?”

He took a deep breath to soothe the disquieting swell of rage. What was wrong with him? He usually did not lose his temper so readily.

“I have told her who I am, what we are.” He picked up an owl feather and stroked the quill, needing a distraction from the fire seething too close beneath the surface. “She knows of the curse and her ties to Sorcha. However, she believes none of it, not without proof.”

“Is that all you’ve told her?”

“That is all she needed to be aware of.”

Caedmon’s smirk was knowing. “So you haven’t told her that we need her blood or that she’s your sole beloved?”

The words fluttered through him like the moth he’d freed from the spiderweb. Yet attraction, no matter how powerful or potent, did not a true love make.

“Even if your dubious vision proved accurate,” Kellen said, “I would not burden her with such a truth when my freedom is tenuous at best. ’Twould be kindest to allow her the opportunity to continue her life oblivious to who I may be to her.

” He had only been granted the barest taste of the woman she was, and still his chest ached at the thought of living on solely in her memory, hoping perchance that she would think of him fondly from time to time.

The maudlin image reminded him too much of his past, the brief sparks of childhood happiness with his mother.

’Twas a life that might have been if she had trusted him enough to share the truth of her illness.

Instead, she had surrendered him and Caedmon to the druids, dying alone whilst her children fought to survive in an unfamiliar world.

Kellen fixed his brother with a stare. “Maggie is innocent, no matter her bloodline. She is no witch. We must find an alternate remedy.”

Caedmon paused before speaking. When he monitored what emerged from his mouth, ’twas an ominous sign, indeed. “After becoming druids, we were content, weren’t we?” he said at last. “We needed nothing more than each other and our work.”

“And you, your maidens.” Kellen scowled mildly, more teasing than anything else.

“And you, your sick need for books.” Caedmon crossed his arms, as if he had made some victorious announcement.

“Books have never struck me in the back with a cooking utensil nor threatened to have me drawn and quartered.” Kellen smirked. Checkmate.

“But we have managed to live happily enough, with or without women and books.” The way he watched Kellen, unblinking, his dark eyes shrewd as any raven’s, made his stomach uneasy.

Usually, his hesitation indicated the idea was questionable, reckless, immoral—or all three—and he knew Kellen would disapprove.

Whilst Kellen had questioned his druid master at nigh every turn, refusing to meekly accept any dubious teachings despite the regular beatings, Caedmon had flourished beneath the tutelage.

He had no qualms of embracing the darker rites of their ancestry and using any means at his disposal to whatever end he sought.

They were two faces of the same coin, dependent upon one another for balance.

Without his presence, he feared what his twin may become.

Mayhap had already become. And having gained an extended lifespan when they successfully passed through the fire to become druids and pledged their troth to the land, Caedmon had centuries more to sink deeper into darkness.

“Speak your mind, brother,” Kellen said.

“You’ve suffered for centuries, trapped in Sorcha’s prison. I know thousands of others, myself included, who deserve that fate far more than you. You’re the best man I know, and each time you return to your prison, it’s like a knife twisting deeper in my side.”

At his brother’s unexpected declaration, Kellen’s eyes burned with the threat of tears, and he rubbed at them.

Caedmon generally countered any seriousness with a flippant hand and rarely spoke of his own feelings.

While their mutual regard was largely unspoken, he never had cause to doubt it.

To hear it aloud made his chest constrict and his heart swell.

“I love you, too, Caedmon.” He reached across the table and squeezed his twin’s shoulder. “Had I been given the choice of any man to be my sibling, ’twould be you. Every time.”

“Same.” Moisture sheened Caedmon’s eyes. “If not you, then The Rock. I’d never worry about needing a bodyguard to save me from any knitting needles flung my way.”

Kellen frowned. “I’d prefer to be replaced by someone astute, not christened after a stone.”

“I’ll think of an alternative.” Caedmon cleared his throat, and along with it, his humor. “The first ritual worked better than my best protection charm. The power from the guests amplified our reserves.” He grimaced. “At first.”

Cold gripped his neck. “Explain.”

Caedmon sat in his chair, as if the weight of the world were suddenly too much to bear. “Every year on Samhain, always at dusk, Sorcha battles to break through your wards. Without you here to strengthen and rebuild the spells, she’s come close to succeeding a time or two.”

Kellen nodded, the chill seeping down his back.

The accusation in his twin’s tone was impossible to miss.

For centuries, Caedmon had sought his approval to create new wards.

Together. But he would not risk another life, especially his brother’s life, by making the mistake of channeling his power through another druid again.

“She has to know I found the counter-spell to your curse, which means she’ll put all her super-power bitch energy into her efforts this year.

Breaking the outer ward days before Samhain is proof enough.

It’s her last shot. She may be a joy-sucking scum-spawn, but she’s also intelligent.

She knows she can’t overpower us both at full strength.

If you’re free, she’s done, which is why I was so particular with my guest list this year.

We need their fragments of magic gathered at the rituals for the counter-spell, to add a surge at the right time and keep the crone at bay, no matter what wicked spells she weaves. But…”

All of this he already knew. His brother was stalling, hesitant to break the bad news. “Just tell me,” Kellen said. “Please.”

Caedmon’s throat worked as he nodded. “What we gathered at the first ritual and channeled to the ley line is gone. Somehow, Sorcha siphoned the power to herself and used it to weaken the second ward.”

“Fie.” Kellen swiped a hand over his face. “How?” Even with the stolen fragments of energy from the ritual guests, Sorcha should not be capable of wielding such strength or interfering with the ley line itself.

“That’s an excellent question. I don’t know the answer.

Yet. However…” Caedmon tapped the parchment spread on the table, held down by very specific paperweights, rocks in symbolic colors of power.

His gaze again took on that intensity Kellen did not care for as he lifted a rock from the table, then held it out in his palm.

“I offered Maggie’s stone from the initiation ritual to the ancestors last night, seeking their guidance. They sent it back, like this.”

The amber gleamed golden as if lit from within. Kellen leaned in closer. Trapped inside the amber, the flat eyeball of a bird had formed, pierced with a spike from a Hawthorn tree.

His blood went cold. With the rock attached to Maggie, the message from the ancestors was clear.

A portent of death. Her death. By a Ravenwood.

“Maggie’s blood can’t be substituted.” Caedmon set the rock down. “You can’t argue with the ancestors.”

“I most certainly can and will,” he vowed.

“Kel, I need you here with me. Nothing else matters.”

“Nay. I will not sacrifice an innocent life for my own. Especially Maggie.”

Caedmon’s jaw clenched. “And what about Ravenwood, the land itself? Have you thought about what will happen here with your permanent absence? Already, there are effects from your imprisonment. It will only get worse.”

Kellen sighed heavily. He could not deny the noticeable change. “I wholeheartedly believe you will find a way to free me without harming her. Even now, with these new developments, I am confident in your skill. Our fate is in your hands, brother. There is no one else I would trust it to.”

The tension eased from Caedmon’s features. “I won’t stop until you’re back for good.” His throat worked, and his smile was strained. “I bumped up the next ritual to dawn—we need all the strength we can get, as quickly as possible. Sorcha’s going down this time. I’ll make sure of it.”

At the reminder of the competition, the goals Maggie had revealed earlier struck him like a blow to the chest. The thought she would not regain her home or open her charming boutique pained him as if the lost dream were his own.

“’Tis a shame Maggie revealed no magic in the initial ritual. Of all your guests, she would benefit most from winning.”

“We don’t know for sure your wee little sparrow doesn’t have magic.” Caedmon adjusted one stone slightly, turning it at an angle with a slight frown.

“If Maggie had any magic, dark or not, I would have sensed it by now.”

Satisfied with the position of the stone, his brother shrugged.

“Maybe her power was shielded by Sorcha or simply skipped a generation. Maybe it’s dormant and needs a carnal session with a potent druid to awaken it.

” Caedmon’s grin turned teasing as Kellen growled.

“Maybe it’s been bound to protect us all from its destructive strength.

As long as she stays until Samhain, I don’t care.

But I didn’t summon you here to get all misty eyed or snarly. ”

“Nay?” Kellen tsked, grateful for the change in topic. “Most disappointing.”

Caedmon leaned forward on the table, and his eyes gleamed. “I found Sorcha.”

“Where?” Kellen’s hand fisted at the very thought of confronting the witch in person, face-to-face. She had not had the courage to do so even when she cast her curse centuries ago.

“I’ll do you one better.” Caedmon wriggled his eyebrows. “I’ll show you.”

Kellen leaned over the scrying bowl on his brother’s desk and frowned. It was empty.

“Times have changed, bro. Why use a scrying bowl when you have video?” Caedmon hit a button, and a panel on the wall slid asunder.

He glanced over his shoulder as he slipped into the shadows beyond, waving Kellen to join him.

“Welcome to my personal security room, where no one goes unseen. At least, not for long. Technology makes a druid’s life much, much easier. ”

Kellen entered the hidden chamber. Strange square windows covered three of the walls, revealing locations scattered all over their estate, some within the main hall, others stretching all the way to the borders. He kept a careful distance. “Technology, you say? Or witchery?”

“It’s all on the up and up, Kel, I promise.

I didn’t sacrifice any part of my soul or make any offerings to the dark.

” He plopped into a chair before one frame revealing a black void.

“It’s available to all people, druid, witch, or average human.

” He struck a few buttons on a device resting on the table, and the darkness came to life. “Check it out.”

The scene beyond the window drew nearer and focused, showing a gray sky and the familial cemetery located a good ride from the main hall.

Mist curled like smoke around headstones and marble sepulchers.

A woman moved into view, wearing a cloak without the hood up.

Tall and slender, she displayed glorious auburn hair.

“That bonny lass is Wendy Hayes, your Maggie’s missing friend.” The enchanted screen revealed Wendy crouching beside a gravestone.

Kellen straightened. “If I hurry now, perchance I can catch her there.”

Caedmon grasped his arm before he could spin for the exit. “She’s not there, not anymore.” He waved a hand at the scrying window and touched a button. Wendy froze, as if caught in time. “This happened earlier. Just trust me on this one.”

Kellen rubbed his temple and returned to the magical window. Technology he had no time to comprehend was vexing.

“I’d hoped that Wendy had merely been compelled or bewitched, but it’s worse than that. After seeing this, I’m convinced Sorcha has possessed her.” Caedmon again pressed a button, and the image of Wendy resumed moving. “Watch.”

Wendy began digging at the grave. She paused and, as if she sensed him observing, looked straight at him. ’Twas Sorcha’s unmistakable smile that stretched Wendy’s face. The window blinked out into darkness, erasing the vision.

Cacamas. Another ill-fated first. Never before had Sorcha dared possess another, yet another demonstration of her increased power.

Kellen touched the scrying screen. The glass was shockingly warm considering the autumn chill outside, and he jerked back.

“With a human body, she may pass freely through the wards.”

“Yeah, she wanted us to see this. Such a gloater. But with her nullified magic while within your boundary spells, she’ll avoid being caught at any cost.” Caedmon glanced over his shoulder.

“My guess is her focus will be on sabotaging the remaining wards to have full access to her magic before Samhain. Jeeves is aware and will be on the lookout. Between the three of us, Maggie will be safe.”

Yet he would not rest easy while Sorcha remained loose. And if, using Wendy’s body, she returned to the room Wendy shared with Maggie while she slept, unaware… och . The mere thought churned in his stomach like a pestilence.

Kellen scrubbed a hand down his face. “What sinister mischief did Sorcha conduct in the Ravenwood graveyard?”

Caedmon’s smile was wicked. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”