Page 31 of Druid Cursed

CHAPTER

When Kellen pulled her into his arms, Maggie didn’t argue.

She couldn’t stop shaking. Everything Kellen had said was true.

There was no rational explanation for wind shaping dead leaves into human form, no way to imitate the fear when that voice had mentioned hurting Wendy and named Maggie as her granddaughter.

No way to ignore how Kellen had fallen to his knees as if physically struck, bleeding silver light.

She clung to him, his solid strength and warmth, his spicy scent slowly calming her heart.

Finally, he kissed the top of her head. “That is not the manner in which I had hoped to give you the proof you requested.”

“But you have to admit, it was effective.” She looked up at him, searching for any hint of lingering pain. “Are you okay?”

His features softened. “Worry not for me.”

Not an answer. But she closed her eyes again and laid her cheek against his soft, woolen sweater, his presence an anchor she desperately needed.

If she separated, she’d be tossed away by the raging sea of things that shouldn’t be.

“I’ve always wanted a grandma, but without cookies or sweet hugs, it’s a total letdown. ”

“You are taking a direct encounter with the evil of Sorcha better than anticipated.” Kellen eased back and gently lifted her chin, studying her. “How brave you are, mo chuisle .”

Brave. She blinked back an unexpected burn of tears.

No one had ever attached that adjective to Maggie O’Malley before, and the fact that someone like Kellen, strong, confident, and fierce, saw her as someone with enough courage to stand up to evil?

Maybe she wasn’t the biggest wimp in the world after all.

And when it came to getting her friend back, she’d whip out her own flying monkeys, if that’s what it took.

Wendy had taken Maggie under her wing when no one else had, pulled her out of the solitary box of her own making, and forced her to see that life, even when bad, had too many good things in it to ever give up.

Wendy… She was facing all this alone.

Keep watch for me, Mags.

Wendy’s words rang to memory, as did finding her lost earring in the forest near Kellen’s castle. Sorcha had said that Wendy was fighting back. She should’ve connected the dots earlier. Wendy had been trying to tell her, and she hadn’t caught on. I’ll make up for it now, Wen.

She released a shaky breath. Pretending that the supernatural wasn’t alive and kicking in Ravenwood would be a complete lie.

Denying that she was scared shitless would be another.

Aunt Maeve had nothing on Sorcha in the fright department, and Maggie didn’t have the option of locking herself in the bathroom and waiting for rescue like she had as a child.

All she could do was go with the Halloween flow and use whatever was at her disposal—arcane or not—to get both her and Wendy out of this mess.

Preferably alive.

Finding Wendy and kicking her not-so-great-grandmother’s spirit back beyond the veil had leaped to priority number one. “So what’s the plan? Salt circles? Iron pokers? Some ancient Latin chants?”

For the first time, Kellen looked at her as if she was the irrational one. The nerve.

“I might not be a druid, but I’ve done a shitload of research on medieval history. I know the stories and lore, the beliefs of people and cultures from the past. Just tell me how I can help.”

“The only plan you need is to remain beyond Sorcha’s reach.

Avoid her—and Wendy—at all costs. The safest location is within the main hall, where Sorcha’s magic spells cannot be wrought.

Your room has already been bespelled and warded against her, the locks changed.

I assume Jeeves provided you with a new key? ”

She nodded as her heart rolled in her rib cage, skipping a beat.

His protectiveness made her feel like she mattered more than anything else.

But hiding while others took on the danger?

Not happening. She’d played the coward before, chosen to ignore the cracks in her marriage instead of facing them, minimized herself to make others happy. That wasn’t her, not anymore.

“Don’t expect me to flutter helplessly somewhere out of the way while you make your potions and wave your magic wand.

This isn’t the fifteenth century.” She gave him a brilliant smile and patted his cheek.

Poking the bear—or a freaking real-life, centuries-old druid —was better than running away, screaming her head off, hoping the nightmare ended.

“If you don’t include me in your strategy, I’ll figure out how to rescue Wendy myself. ”

A slow smile curled on one corner of his mouth, and for a pulse-pounding moment she forgot Sorcha, forgot the danger, forgot everything else outside of Kellen.

“You remind me of the warrior queens who ravaged battlefields and left only bones for the crows and ravens.” A purr entered his gravelly voice.

“Any druid would be fortunate to have you by his side.”

She couldn’t look away from his dark eyes, caught again in his spell. Let the meltdown proceed.

Luckily, he shifted his gaze to the trees, saving her from such a fate, giving her time to recover. “I presume Wendy is wise enough to understand that fighting Sorcha is futile. As long as she cooperates, she does not need rescuing. Sorcha will not harm her vessel.”

“She cursed you to a prison. Pretty sure she’s capable of lying, too.”

“’Tis an excellent point,” he conceded.

Wendy’s intelligence wasn’t what worried her. She might hide it behind her attitude and party-girl persona, but she was the s martest, sneakiest person Maggie knew—and viciously stubborn.

She’d never forget the time Wendy had plotted revenge on a boyfriend who she discovered was cheating on her.

She’d pretended to be in love while secretly printing posters with the sleazy text messages and photos she’d found.

One night, she’d traded sleep for pinning posters at every restaurant and business, mailed flyers, even made lawn signs to plant in the lawns of friends and family.

By morning, the entire town knew the truth.

And she somehow programmed his home and phone alarms to go off at three a.m. every morning, blaring “Before He Cheats” while his house lights flashed on and off until the song ended.

To Maggie, it was a waste of time and energy.

But for Wendy, it had been pure, savage joy.

Later, bonding over cheating exes had brought them even closer.

Wendy hated being controlled, and if Sorcha believed she’d cowed her, it only meant Wendy was plotting her next battle plan and would strike when it would be most effective.

Stay strong, diva.

Kellen turned and strode to the knee-high pile of leaves, the remnants of Sorcha’s friendly little visit.

Maggie hung back a safe distance. Only a week ago, one of the best parts of autumn was the foliage changing colors, the crunch and crackle beneath her boots, the fun of watching Wendy dive into waiting piles of dead leaves in the park, cackling like a fiend.

She’d never look at autumn leaves the same again.

“Her strength will continue to grow with the nearing of Samhain and the new moon.” Kellen kicked noisily through the pile and stopped at the oak tree beyond, where the knife he’d thrown remained embedded, hilt-deep in the bark.

He pulled it away with a crack . “The veil between the mortal and spiritual worlds will thin whilst Sorcha’s vile sorcery increases.

” He turned and sheathed the black dagger.

“She will do everything in her power to prevent Caedmon from discovering how to break her curse. She knows that if I am free, she will be defeated.”

Her heart stopped, frozen between beats. If Sorcha was real, if everything Kellen had said was true, that meant…

“This really is your last chance at freedom.” The words were no more than a whisper, and saying them made her throat burn. Out of everything she didn’t want to believe, the curse was one of the worst. A few days and he’d be gone. Forever.

“Aye.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “My prison exists. My sentence is real. My freedom wanes.”

She crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his lean waist. “You still have three days and what’s left of today, right?”

His big body shuddered as he folded her into his embrace, pulling her closer. “I will be content with three more days with you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, and why are you here with me instead of spending every possible second searching for a prison-break scheme and how to defeat the wicked witch?”

“Fie, Maggie. How fierce you are, like a banshee. How could I be aught but fueled by hope and valor whilst beneath such zeal?” He brushed her temple with his lips, and his sigh feathered her hair.

“Cursed as I am, my magic cannot harm Sorcha. If I make any effort to assist Caedmon, his counter-spell unravels, and I am instantly summoned back to my prison. Even if that were not so, I prefer to be no other place than right here, with you.”

Such a sweet talker. Before she surrendered to the unhealthy urge to stay in his arms for eternity, Maggie stepped back. “You threw a knife at her.”

“I did,” he said slowly, his expression wary.

“And hit her right in the kisser.”

His mouth tightened. “My apologies. Violence is not—”

“It was freaking awesome, even if it didn’t faze her.”

Kellen opened his mouth, closed it. Laughter rumbled in his chest, low, lovely, and not nearly long enough.

“What did you say before you threw it?”

“Begone, taibhse .”

“ Taibhse ?” She fumbled with the word, her horrible Gaelic probably making every Irishman turn over in their graves and moan in their barrows.