Page 34 of Druid Cursed

CHAPTER

Lightning forked, electric-white, across the angry sky, and the chandelier in Maggie’s room flickered violently.

Thunder boomed before the jagged reflection had faded, shaking the foundations of Ravenwood Mansion.

The lights died altogether, and the deep quiet of a night without electricity crept in.

She lowered the borrowed Ravenwood library book, Possessions and Purifications , and stared out into the black from the window seat.

With the moon and stars behind storm clouds, she had no way to see.

Great. How would she keep her mind occupied now?

Without Kellen constantly distracting her and no third scavenger hunt clue card yet, all the worry for Wendy gathered like a suffocating weight on her chest, making it hard to gather a full breath.

What if Sorcha had quieted Wendy for good?

She hated that her friend was out there, somewhere, trapped and possibly in pain.

Possessed. And she had no idea how to help her.

Contest cash or not, no matter the entire mountain range of arcane happenings surrounding her, she’d never leave Ravenwood Estate without Wendy.

Backing out wasn’t an option. Until she received the last clue, the scavenger quest remained at a standstill.

The next competition ritual hadn’t been announced yet.

She felt like she treaded water in a shark-infested sea.

It was only a matter of time before the fins showed up.

The heavens opened, and rain drilled the windowpane. A gust of wicked wind howled around corners and shook the glass as if trying to break in.

Maybe curled up on the window seat wasn’t the safest place. Maggie fumbled through the dark, tripping over Wendy’s suitcase on her way to the door. As she reached for the doorknob, a knock sounded, giving her heart a jolt.

“Miss O’Malley, I have a lantern for you.

” At Jeeves’s familiar voice, she opened the door.

He stood there in the dark like a wraith, an oil lantern in his long, white fingers.

It seemed Ravenwood refused to ruin the Halloween experience with anything so normal as flashlights.

He handed it to her with a bow. “Master Kellen, of course, would have preferred to bring the lantern to you personally, but his duties this evening prevent it.”

She’d been trying not to think about that, too. What unavoidable duties could he possibly have when he only had a few days of freedom left, a curse to break, and a witch to crush?

“Was the salt you requested earlier adequate for your purposes?” Jeeves waited for her response, his expression blank of any judgment or curiosity.

“It was perfect.” Maggie almost glanced at the salt lining the threshold between them and wondered if he’d noticed. Salt also lined every windowsill and circled the sink and toilet for good measure. She wasn’t taking any chances that spirits might be able to pass through drainpipes.

“If you need aught else, simply call and I will answer.” He bowed and turned gracefully away.

She set the lantern on the table by the door.

Maybe she wasn’t being entirely fair about being alone tonight.

Kellen had been amazing, the perfect gentleman.

He’d guided her through the library, finding armfuls of books that might help her rescue Wendy.

While she’d pored over articles on spirits and how to kick them out of flesh and bone, he’d brought her cinnamon-laced coffee and the best cheese sandwich she’d ever had, making sure she kept up her strength.

He’d made her feel like she wasn’t facing an impossible situation alone.

Along the way, he’d told her stories of his childhood and pried personal details from her.

Just as it had been freeing to tell him about Aunt Maeve, something she’d kept secret from everyone else until now, it had been surprisingly easy talking to him, sharing more of herself and her past.

And oh so dangerous. He’d made her feel important and interesting. Desired .

Another spear of lightning flashed, with a follow-up peal of thunder that made her jump. The chandelier hanging above the door rattled. She couldn’t stop replaying the leaves in the forest taking human form or Sorcha’s threats.

“White and Nerdy” erupted from her phone on the coffee table.

Her breath caught at Wendy’s ringtone. Maybe the storm had messed with the cell towers enough to finally give them a bit of service. She leaped for her phone and swiped the screen to answer. “Wendy?”

“Maggie, thank God! I’ve been trying and trying to call or text. The connection here sucks.”

Maggie closed her eyes in relief. Wendy’s voice, Wendy’s words, no hint of accent or witchy rasp. She was safe. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m…you wouldn’t believe…creepy.” The call faded in and out, serrated by crackles and silence.

“I’m only catching a word here and there—”

“…lost…no idea…castle…help—”

White-hot lightning flared beyond the window as the connection cut out. A clap of thunder shook the floorboards.

“Shit.” Maggie called Wendy back and only got voicemail. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Rain roared on the roof and punished the windowpanes. Without electricity, shadows ruled, broken only by the lantern and sage-scented candles from the hallway. Maggie paced along the wall of windows, her phone clutched tight as if she could hold onto Wendy through their brief connection.

She reached the end of the windows and pivoted.

Had Wendy regained control of her body? Or could Sorcha retreat enough to allow Wendy to believe she was free, setting them all up?

It could be, probably was , a trick. Either way, she couldn’t just ignore that Wendy was at the castle, in a raging storm, in trouble.

Dammit.

Maggie jammed her feet into her boots and grabbed her jacket and the lantern. Kellen’s lovely dagger wasn’t staying behind—she tucked it in her belt before rushing out of her room. She made it all the way to the stairwell before Jeeves’s cultured voice called out behind her.

“May I assist you, Miss O’Malley?”

For once, she was glad for his super-special skill of popping up out of nowhere. “I need Kellen.”

“I fear Master Kellen remains unavailable.”

She raked her fingers through her loose hair. “Then how about Caedmon?”

“I fear not.”

“Oh, right. The hunt.” Caedmon was king of the hunt and Cara his queen. Her face heated, recalling what Kellen had told her about it.

“Masters Kellen and Caedmon are druids, Miss Maggie,” Jeeves said, almost gently. “They have certain responsibilities to attend to when the veil grows thin and the nights are fraught with danger.”

So he knew that she knew what they were. Which meant they’d all been talking about her behind her back. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Lightning flashed in the window at the end of the corridor, and for a dizzying moment Jeeves’s eyes looked completely silver.

His face seemed more ethereal than human, sharp angles and pointed ears.

As thunder rolled and darkness descended, he again resumed the appearance of an uptight butler.

A few days ago—hell, yesterday —she would have thought she was imagining things.

Now? It was very possible Jeeves wasn’t completely human, either.

That would explain a lot of questions she had about him, actually.

“It is not advisable to be caught wandering this eve,” he said. “I suggest you return to your chambers until morning.”

She almost told him about Wendy’s call, but she was 100 percent sure he’d try even harder to stop her from leaving, and that wasn’t happening. If both Kellen and Caedmon were busy doing whatever , she’d have to get Wendy herself.

Maggie pasted on a smile. “Is the post-hunt bonfire still going?”

“Indeed. They built it beneath the veranda, beyond the reach of the storm.” He eyed her rain jacket meaningfully.

“Great. I’ve been cooped up most of the evening. Might be good for me to go down for a while. Have a drink. Enjoy the heat.” Not that she planned to do any of those things.

“As you wish.” He bowed at the waist and cocked his head, as if listening. “Forgive me, but I must assist another guest. If there is aught you need—”

“I’ll ring,” she said, shooing him away. “Good night.”

Maggie trailed Jeeves and waited for him to vanish down another corridor before pretending to make her way to the garden veranda.

After a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t peeking around the corner, she veered off the shielded causeway into the storm.

She pulled up her hood and squinted against the sheets of rain.

The snarling wind clawed at her eyes and clothes as she avoided the gated gardens and instead ran alongside the wrought-iron fence, toward the woods and the path leading to the castle.

Flames from the bonfire glowed across the gardens. Smoke scented the air, mixing with the smell of sweet pine. The chime of glass shattering on concrete carried on the wind, followed by voices and laughter. Not even the storm of the century kept guests from celebrating Samhain week at Ravenwood.

People were so weird.

Though she wondered now if the other guests were more like Cara, who was only here to get some kind of miracle cure for her grandmother.

Maybe everyone else had a secret agenda involving spells or druid relics, too.

That would make a lot more sense. Maggie was clearly the only one here who needed the reward money.

Hopefully, if someone else won, they’d give at least some of it to charity rather than line their already stuffed pockets.

Once the trees closed in around her, serving as a canopy, the rain lost most of its power, but the short run between mansion and forest had done its damage.

She wiped the moisture from her eyes. Wearing a hood only prevented the crown of her head from getting drenched.

Her face was completely wet. Icy rivulets snaked down her neck and back, soaking into her sweater.