Page 47 of Druid Cursed

CHAPTER

“I am sending Maggie away.” Kellen sank into a leather chair in Caedmon’s study and stared into the fire. After leaving Jeeves to guard her door, he had wandered the halls, unwilling to join the guests cavorting in the haunted maze event in the gardens, yet not wishing to be alone.

Not wanting to be without her.

In the wee hours before dawn broke, he came to the decision he dreaded. Maggie would resist departing without Wendy. He would use whatever means he must to convince her otherwise. Sorcha would harm her no further once she was home. She would be safe, free of sorcery and fear.

Free of him.

“What are you talking about?” Caedmon abandoned the spell-work at his desk and drew near. “You can’t send her off now.”

Kellen scrubbed his fingers through his loose hair and held his head in his hands.

“The lies Sorcha planted in her mind, they are not easily forgotten or disproved. Maggie no longer trusts me, and I cannot blame her for it.” He rested his elbows on his knees.

“Mayhap ’tis for the best. If she thinks ill of me, she will easier find another man to love her, to live without me.

” He swallowed the bitter pit stuck in his throat.

Ashes and bones, his heart hurt.

“So you’re giving up?” Caedmon barred his arms over his chest. “That’s what you’re going with? That’s how you’re choosing to deal?”

The sharpness in his brother’s tone took him off guard.

“What would you have me do? Sorcha has demonstrated that she has no qualms about using Maggie in her bid to destroy me and steal our birthright. You have yet to find a counter-spell that does not require her blood, and I will not trade her life for mine. ’Tis a kindness to let her go—”

“To hell with kindness.” Caedmon booted the chair, making it shake beneath him.

Fury blackened his visage. “When in the last six centuries has kindness done either of us any favors? And while I’m on a roll, why don’t we toss honesty, honor, and justice into the abyss, too?

In the end, they’re worthless.” He jabbed a finger in Kellen’s face.

“Look what they earned you, brother. A curse. A nothing life. So don’t talk to me about the merits of kindness. ”

Kellen watched in stunned silence. His brother had never exploded at him thusly, not in so vicious a manner.

“Life requires sacrifices. You told me that.” Caedmon paced before the hearth, his eyes wild. “When Mother relinquished us to the druids, we sacrificed nearly everything, didn’t we?” He stopped and looked at Kellen, apparently wanting an answer.

“Aye, I remember.”

“I’m sick of the sacrifices you make, Kel.” He resumed a brisk stride across the room and back. “Sick of the centuries you suffer, how you return for a week at a time and pretend that it’s all copacetic while I continue to fail you.”

“Caedmon—”

“No.” He whirled and faced Kellen. “Go ahead. I’ll keep searching for a remedy that doesn’t exist while you return to your heroic and noble suffering. Just admit that you prefer the act of playing the martyr to being happy.”

Kellen clenched his jaw, anger rising to the surface. “You believe I enjoy my prison?”

“Don’t you? Days of nothing but pondering your ill luck and wondering how badly I’m ruining the family legacy in your absence?”

“I have never thought that of you,” he snarled, standing toe to toe with his brother. “Never.”

Caedmon laughed, bitter. “I’m the knave of the family, Kel. Don’t stop being honest now. You won’t even let me assist you with the wards to protect our land, instead relying on maintaining them every half a century and hoping they’ll last until you’re back.”

“You know why I must maintain the wards alone.”

“Yeah. One mistake, one tragic death, and you’re out. Instead of standing strong together, you let that fear rule you. Instead of letting me prove that I can handle whatever power you might channel into a ritual, you slink back into your solo cave, too proud to accept any offer of help.”

“Pride has naught to do with it.”

But Caedmon did not seem to hear. He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it disheveled on his brow.

“What hurts most is you hold my past against me as much as you do your own. Every wrong move I’ve made, every reckless decision or sketchy spell, I didn’t miss your disappointment.

That little shake of your head. That scowl.

How many times have you chastised me over a woman who wasn’t up to your lofty standards?

But God forbid you sacrifice a woman to break your curse and resume a real life that includes watching me slowly ruin my soul—or losing everything we hold dear at midnight. ”

Kellen lunged at his brother before he reconsidered.

Caedmon stumbled back into the chair, his eyes wide, and Kellen leaned over him.

“Maggie is not remotely comparable to the women you take for a single night and then discard. Her life is worth any sacrifice on my part, and if that includes returning to my prison until the end of eternity, so be it.”

“And what of the sacrifice the land will make for your choice? The people we’re sworn to protect?

Me ?” Caedmon gripped the armrests of the chair, his fingers bloodless.

“I can’t defeat Sorcha alone. You know that.

She knows that. You would save the life of one woman at the expense of your own kin. Of an entire realm.”

The noose around Kellen’s neck tightened, stealing all words. Caedmon spoke the truth. And yet he could not accept that Maggie’s death would result in aught but ill. His only hope remained in Caedmon discovering a miracle before midnight, less than twenty hours away.

“I’m sure your noble sacrifice will keep you warm and fuzzy while you go mad and I fight Sorcha alone.” Caedmon grinned, his eyes black as pits. “While Maggie spends her nights moaning another man’s name.”

Sucking in a breath, Kellen straightened. Gold gleamed at Caedmon’s throat—their mother’s locket. He ripped it from his brother’s neck and stalked away before he surrendered to the very noble urge to instead give his brother a swollen eye and bloody lip.

And to do something, anything to numb the aching, ragged void in his chest.

…

By the time morning made a sullen line on the slate-gray horizon, Maggie had dressed in her favorite jeans, sweater, and boots, her hair in a ponytail, ready for action.

Ignoring her scratchy eyes, swollen from crying too long, too hard, she slipped the rock in her pocket beside Caedmon’s leather pouch and sphere.

A healthy amount of emergency salt was already in her other pocket.

Cara’s friendship bracelet fit perfectly on one wrist, her father’s last gift on the other.

The necklace of charms rested between her breasts, cool on her skin.

They’d proven useless against ghosts, but she’d take whatever protection she could get, imaginary or not.

Hesitating only a second, she tucked Kellen’s dagger in her belt beneath her sweater, next to the spindle Wendy had planted. As much as it reminded her of him and threatened her hastily rebuilt defenses around her heart, going into battle without the only real weapon she had wouldn’t be smart.

She grabbed her coat and cracked open the door to her room. The hallway was empty, but just like the silence, empty spaces meant nothing in Ravenwood.

Halloween morning. Time to do or die.

No, do. Definitely do.

It had taken all night plotting with Cara to settle on her next move.

She’d reclaim the ring and key from Caedmon and regroup.

Together with the rock and all three scavenger hunt items gathered, she’d find a way to summon Sorcha.

Maybe her witchy great-grandmother would be reasonable if she asked nicely to release Wendy.

If not, she’d use the silver sphere in her pocket, hope Caedmon’s anti-possession spell worked, grab Wendy, and run like hellhounds snapped at their heels.

Forget the final ritual and any shot she had at the competition cash. As long as Wendy was safe and free and far from Sorcha, it would be enough of a win.

After that, she’d figure out how to survive. She’d briefly let herself grieve losing her home, her dreams, the man she’d thought she found in Kellen. Then she’d find a way to forget him.

Her heart seized, and she blinked off another burn of tears.

Stupid heart. Don’t think about him.

If she cracked, she’d ruin everything. Despite all the contingencies that might affect success, doing something was better than wallowing and hoping she wasn’t wrong about Ravenwood honor.

Sure, they’d kept secrets and told lies by omission, but murderers of innocent women they were not—no matter how wicked her ancestor might be.

She made it to Caedmon’s study without being surprised by a sudden appearance from Jeeves. Where was he? The emptiness was unnerving, as if all Halloween events had been canceled, the other guests expelled during the dark hours.

The study door was ajar, and she peeked inside. Caedmon sat alone in a leather chair before the hearth, staring into the crackling flames.

Maggie pasted on what she hoped was a friendly, innocent smile.

If either Ravenwood suspected she had plans of her own, who knew what they might do?

She had to assume they still wanted her trust and cooperation.

She had to be careful to pretend everything was fine, to not give away her solo scheme to save Wendy and skedaddle.

“Hello? Caedmon?” Holding onto the doorknob, she leaned inside, as if just passing by and noticing the door was open.