Page 4 of Druid Cursed

Caedmon Ravenwood stood then, and the room quieted.

“Welcome to Ravenwood Estate and our annual Samhain festivities, Magic, Moonlight, and Mayhem.” His rolling, Irish brogue drowned in momentary applause.

With a wave of his hand, silence fell again.

“I won’t ruin your appetite with a long-winded speech.

Most of you are here to enjoy the unique experience only we can offer.

This year, however, we’ve added a challenge to make the season somewhat more interesting.

The competition is by invitation only. My apologies, but any accompanying guests will not be allowed to attend competition events. ”

Maggie’s stomach twisted. She had to go to every event alone? No Wendy for backup?

“And I’m sure you’ve heard that my brother Kellen has most graciously donated the final reward—larger than any previous year—five hundred thousand dollars.”

Kellen Ravenwood might consider himself above introduction dinner parties, as his absence made clear, but she had to appreciate his generosity.

Maggie still couldn’t believe she had a shot at winning that kind of money.

Hell, she’d settle for a sliver of that.

Maybe there’d be a consolation prize or a runner-up.

With a single glimpse at all the confident, put-together people surrounding her, that might be her best chance.

All she could do was try. The alternative was surrender, hand over the spare key to Darren, and go home—to the four walls of her car.

“The rules are simple,” Caedmon continued.

“You need only participate in the rituals that will occur at various times during the week. Competitors will be notified by invitation. Nothing dangerous, risqué, or potentially damaging to your soul.” He flashed his teeth in a wicked smile, the opposite of reassuring.

“Nonparticipation results in disqualification and immediate removal from the premises, along with your guest. Any competitor unable to complete a ritual for any reason shall also return home directly. Those who remain until Samhain will face a final challenge, after which our lucky winner will be named.” His eyes gleamed in the shadows as all humor died. “Sabotage will not be tolerated.”

A shiver traced her spine, and her fingers went cold.

She wouldn’t be the idiot who crossed Caedmon Ravenwood, but dammit.

Rituals? The contest just had to involve the arcane, didn’t it?

And no set schedule… There was nothing worse to a plan-ahead girl like her than not knowing what each day would bring.

His winning smile returned. “In addition, the contestant who proves to be the most capable in the rituals will be awarded a boon worthy of any member of the Ravenwood family, a prize far more valuable than any amount of cash. The boon will be given at our discretion, to whomever and whenever we wish without announcement. This is our party and we do what we want.” He winked as chuckles scattered among the crowd.

“But know this—your competitors, truly, are more companions than adversaries on this exciting journey. Fun is the bottom line.”

“Fun?” The man sitting beside Cara snorted, then leaned in and lowered his voice.

“I heard that more than a few guests last year departed in the middle of the night after the first ritual, leaving behind whatever they brought with them. Couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

” His eyes glinted. “They refused to tell anyone what happened, said it was too frightening.”

Cara arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like a delicious challenge.”

Maggie pulled her sweater closer to ward against a sudden chill. That wasn’t true. He was just trying to scare off the competition. Hopefully.

“Tonight,” Caedmon said, “recover from your travels. Be alert, be prepared, for the competition rituals may occur at any time. Now, for the initiation.” Caedmon lifted his shot glass for all to see. “ Uisci na beatha .”

Was that…Gaelic? What did it mean?

Cara and the others at Maggie’s table lifted their own shots, holding them high. Right, it was probably just some kind of toast to life or good fortune. She scrambled for her glass. In unison, the crowd repeated Caedmon’s words. With their host, they slammed the shots.

A few seconds behind, Maggie swallowed the whiskey and spluttered.

She mumbled the words, butchering the Gaelic.

Her eyes watered, throat burning like she’d drunk liquid fire.

Water of life, my sweet ass . When the tears faded, she found waiters silently serving the first entrée—soup, without crackers she could snag.

Cara gave her a faint smile. “I imagine this week will be quite the experience for us all. A word of friendly advice from an honest competitor—be certain you want to win. Money can’t buy happiness, and a Ravenwood boon always comes at a price.”

Well, that settled it . Time to ditch this dinner while she still had her dignity. She didn’t need another stranger to mess with her confidence. That was a talent she’d already perfected herself, thank you very much.

Maggie drained the last drops of whiskey without choking and pushed her chair back. “Thanks for the tip,” she told Cara. “This particular peasant chooses to be repressed elsewhere.”

The butler had disappeared—finally. This was her chance. She headed straight for the glass doors behind Caedmon Ravenwood’s table, phone at the ready. A slip-by photo shot for Wendy, and she’d be out, free until tomorrow. The moonscape garden beyond beckoned. Come to the light —

“Maggie O’Malley.”

Damn . She stopped in her tracks. She’d almost made it.

A second before she lifted the camera for her click-and-run, Caedmon Ravenwood stood and bowed, the sort of old-fashioned, stiff and proper bend at the waist no one really performed anymore.

Maggie pasted on a smile. Should she curtsy or something? She managed a cross between a deformed plié and a bob of her head.

He stepped in front of her—tall, dark, and handsomely blocking her breakout route. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

“Er—”

“No need to explain. I recognize the look of someone bent on escape.” Faint creases from a lifetime of smiles fanned out from his eyes. She could understand why Cara sighed over him from afar. He had the easy air of a man who knew everyone adored him for a long list of legitimate reasons.

“For your ill friend.” The butler slipped from behind Caedmon, as if he’d been hiding there the entire time, and handed her a pack of crackers. “I will have medicine sent to your room straight away.”

The plastic crinkled as she slipped the crackers into her jeans pocket. That butler was good. Really good.

“And a mandrake will be sent up as well.” Caedmon winked. “To expel any lingering evil.”

She instantly relaxed beneath his charm, barely noticing as the butler bowed and strode away. “Thanks, but keep your mandrake. Pretty sure it’s the flu. She probably picked it up from the airport. We’ll stick with the crackers and medicine for now.”

“Should you change your mind, simply call for Jeeves. He’ll provide whatever you need.”

“Jeeves?” Maggie laughed. “Is that his real name?”

Caedmon’s teeth flashed in the candlelight, perfectly white and straight.

“No one knows his true name, but it suits him, don’t you think?

” He held out a silver flask. “For you, a parting gift for the evening. Fly free, little sparrow, and take your time. Waltzing through the gardens under the enchantment of the waxing moon is an experience not to be missed.”

“Thank you.” Not accepting the gift would probably be rude, so she tucked the flask into her back pocket. She lifted her phone. “Would you mind a photo? A request from my friend.”

“Of course. Just be sure to get my good side, not the bad.” His black eyes gleamed, a warning behind the humor. “I’d hate to have to hunt you down for staining my honorable reputation.”

Maggie couldn’t hide a shudder as she took a quick picture, thanked him, and slipped away. She was 99 percent certain when he’d referred to his bad side, he hadn’t meant his appearance.

The French door closed behind her, leaving her in the quiet night.

Alone. It had been what she wanted, but the gardens stretched in every direction, making it impossible to know which way led back to her room.

And she regretted wearing her fancy sandals.

Being outside hadn’t been part of the plan.

Still, better to have chilly feet than be stuck in that viper den for another hour.

She took a quick swig from Caedmon’s flask—a little liquid courage—then wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering as she followed the closest path. Her warm room and sick friend were waiting for her. All she had to do was find them.