Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (16 page)

“Sorry,” the guy said. “I only flew in yesterday. Last week I was in Houston.”

The accent startled Rory. A Yank. Funny, he didn’t look American. “Are you sure?”
God, I’m an idiot
, he thought. Of course the guy was sure where he’d been last week.

The group of men glanced at each other and chuckled, although the one in the centre definitely appeared uncomfortable. Rory couldn’t help but remember when Cridhe and Dudlach had found him. His own orientation into the world of druids and faeries had been painful and full of deception. “Yeah,” the guy said, glancing at Flùranach. “I think I’d remember if we met.”

“You must come with me,” Flùranach repeated, and she reached out and touched the guy’s hand. He didn’t have time to react. As soon as her hand glanced his, he jumped as though she’d burned him.

“Flùr,” Rory said firmly. “This isn’t the guy we met.” He tugged her hand, trying not to make a scene. “Sorry,” Rory said. “Must’ve been someone else.” He walked away, practically dragging Flùranach with him.

“But he is a druid,” she said as the men walked away quickly.

“Maybe,” Rory said. “But you can’t walk up to people and tell them they need to go somewhere with you. They’ll think we’re nutters.” How was he going to persuade a stranger on the street he was a druid and Flùr a faerie? They had no plan to convince someone they came from a hidden realm. The whole thing sounded ludicrous.

“He must know what he is,” Flùranach said. Her voice took on the ethereal quality it sometimes did, but Rory wasn’t sure if she meant the guy already
did
know, or that he should be told.

“Don’t worry. We’ll talk to him.” Rory glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “We’ll follow at a distance. Discretely,” he added with a stern glance at Flùranach. “We should talk to him alone, I think.”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” she said. Her mouth curled into a sour frown.

“Trust me on this,” Rory said. “Come on, let’s go outside. This is the main exit. They’ll pass when they leave.”

Flùranach finally agreed, and they went toward the glass wall where they’d come in. Rory felt both astonished they’d found a druid so quickly, relieved, and also worried. Maybe the guy wasn’t what Flùranach thought. Maybe she wanted so much to prove herself, she’d picked someone randomly and intended to use her powers to convince everyone he was gifted. Rory hated himself for his suspicions, but after everything she’d pulled, he wouldn’t put one more deception past her.

Before they’d even gotten outside, footfalls pattered behind them. “Hey. Flùr, right? I think we have met,” he said with an uncertain smile. “I was in Houston last week, like I said, but perhaps before that. I travel to Aberdeen a few times a year with my company. I’m in oil and gas.”

Rory opened his mouth to speak, but Flùranach didn’t give him the chance. She took the man’s hand and held it between her own. “You are a druid, the ancient companions of the fae. I can see your power, nestled inside you, waiting to bloom. Do you sense the flows of magic?” she asked, running her hand up his chest and staring into his eyes.

The guy’s smile faded. He glanced around, as though the ground shook beneath his feet.

“Slow down,” Rory warned Flùranach. “Please. Unlocking is a confusing process.” To the guy he said, “You may feel sick, pass out, have something like a seizure in the next few hours or days. It happened to me too. Remember, you’re fine. You’re more than fine. Don’t let the changes scare you.”

“I…I’ve gotta go,” the man took a couple steps back. Rory shook his head at Flùranach, signalling she should let the guy leave.

“I can help you,” she said. “Come to the Otherworld and take your place amongst the fae.”

Dear god
, Rory thought, cursing himself for not at least discussing a plan with her. He lowered his voice. “We’re staying at the Hunters Hedge in the city centre tonight,” he said. “You can reach us there.”

“But…” Flùranach said as the man walked unsteadily in the direction he’d come.

“He’ll find us,” Rory said. “A true druid won’t be able to stay away if you’ve unlocked his power.”

“Eilidh,” Munro called and sat up in bed with a start. He woke from a sleep so deep, he felt as though he was returning from another world. He sensed his love drawing near.

Had his encounter with the Source Stone been a dream? Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. The change in him had been real.

After a moment of blurry confusion, he recognised the guest room in the Caledonian Hall. He lay alone on the swing-bed, naked and draped over the blankets. His body retained the defined musculature of a young, strong human, but his skin shimmered. He went to a mirror hanging on the far wall. His hair had once been a sandy blond, but now it shone gold. What struck him most, though, was his eyes. They swirled a deep, ocean blue like the eyes of the fae.

The well of his magic called out to him. He visualised it clearly, as a pit of pure, clean clay, waiting to be moulded into whatever shape he wanted. A heady sense of power rushed through him, telling him he had the power to create anything. The entire universe, all the universes, would bend to his touch.

Voices trailed from down the hall as Eilidh approached, accompanied by others. He sensed their essence, their magic.

The queen walked into his room, and he turned slowly and smiled. She stared in disbelief. Her thoughts rang clearly, almost as though she mind-spoke to him. Whatever changes had taken place strengthened their bond enormously.

“Quinton?” she asked. The surprise in her voice echoed the expressions on the faces behind her.

He didn’t have to answer. The question was a reflexive comment, Eilidh’s way of stalling to give herself a moment to take in what she saw. She recognised him, if not by his face, then by their bond. Even though he stood naked in front of a group of faeries, all staring at him, he felt completely unashamed.

“You touched the Source Stone?” she asked, her emotions betraying that she already knew the answer.

He tilted his head.

“You’ve changed.”

“I am what I always have been,” he replied.

A worried expression crossed her face. She turned to the faeries behind her. “Speak of this to no one.”

The others exchanged apprehensive glances.

Munro stepped forward. “I am
draoidh
,” he said with a growl. “If you utter one word before your queen gives you leave, I will send you to
Ifrinn
myself.”
How did I learn that word?
he wondered absently. His vision blurred as a blue glow emanated from his eyes.

Eilidh blinked at his words, and the three faeries paled. “Yes, my lord,” one of them said and bowed. The other two followed suit. Taken aback, Eilidh didn’t correct their form of address or the fact they showed more respect to him than to her.

“Go,” Munro said, waving a hand toward the door. The trio scurried away quickly.

“What happened to you?” Eilidh’s tone was hushed and reverent, but he felt her fear. Was she afraid of him or of the uncertain future?

“Come here,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her forehead. She melted into his arms. “Don’t be afraid,” he said.

“You appear like a faerie to my senses,” she whispered. Pulling back, she looked into his swirling eyes. “How can this be? How can a stone turn you from human into a faerie?”

“It didn’t,” Munro said, brushing his hand through her white hair. “Don’t you see? I haven’t changed. I’ve been awakened.” He thought back to his previous life as Quinton Munro, beat cop on Scotland’s city streets. He would never be that man again. He motioned to a side room and led Eilidh in, then sat beside her on a low, inclined seat. “I began to suspect when I read the Killbourne Wall.” He told her how he had interpreted the runes on the monument, and the story of the twelve druids who created the first Otherworld gate. “One interpretation might be that the humans who fashioned that portal arrived in the Otherworld, met the fae, and developed a relationship. They may have learned from them, eventually developing bonding magic.”

Eilidh nodded. “I have heard of the Killbourne Wall, however, few have the skill to read it themselves. It isn’t a tale often taught. Its runes are ancient, complex, and the story has been a matter for debate and controversy. I know only that the artefact is a rare piece that relates a fable.”

Munro shook his head. “The Killbourne Wall is no fable. I sensed the creator’s intent clearly.”

“You said one interpretation. What is the other?”

“The draoidh were powerful sorcerers. They didn’t discover the Otherworld. They made it. They didn’t meet the fae, but created them with their hands. On the other hand, perhaps the fae were their descendants. Either way, those draoidh were the fathers and mothers of your race.”

“But…” Eilidh’s voice trailed off.

“I understand now why the draoidh were held in such high esteem. They created the Source Stone. They had the ability to fashion talismans to detect and activate deeper magic. Can you imagine what it would mean if Aaron, Rory, Douglas, Phillip, and I had the understanding to make an artefact that powerful?”

“Great Mother of the Earth.” Eilidh leaned back. “Do you think it’s possible? Do you believe yourself to be as powerful as the draoidh in ancient times?”

“We don’t know how to imbue life or magical flows, but we’ve been fumbling in the dark. Each of us experiences a strong compulsion to create. Who knows what we will do once we all touch the stone? I do know this, I’m not the same man I was two days ago. The Source woke something fundamental in me. My mind opened, and I sense power. Mine, yours, theirs,” he gestured toward the corridor. “You see the truth in my eyes,” he said. He wanted to tell her so many things, including what Ríona said about the draoidh taking any mate they chose in ancient times. He intended to make Eilidh his. But this wasn’t the right moment.

She nodded. “You say nothing has changed in you. If that is true, then it can at least be said this discovery will change everything about everyone else.” Her mind ticked as she methodically went through a range of ideas. He watched her in wonder, feeling closer to her than ever.

“This isn’t why you came here,” he said as the understanding hit him.

“No,” Eilidh replied. “I brought news I needed to tell you myself.”

Munro grew tense. With everything happening in Caledonia, what news would bring the queen in person? “What’s wrong?”

“Flùranach and Rory disappeared. We suspect they went to the human realm. The elders wish you to bring them back. As a policeman…” her voice trailed off. Munro couldn’t walk the streets of Scotland without raising a few eyebrows in his current state. Not to mention that with his new status, the conclave wouldn’t exactly order him about as they once did.
Another complication,
she thought, and Munro wondered if she’d intended for him to hear it.

“I’ll go. I need an azuri fae to accompany me, one who can disguise my features as well as their own. Someone we trust.”

Eilidh stood, her relief palpable. “Dress and gather what you need. We’ll return to Canton Dreich. I need to talk to Griogair.”

“If we hurry, I can pass through the gate before dawn. Which one did they use?”

“Obar Dheathain,”
she replied. “Near the city you call Aberdeen.”

Rory couldn’t see the sun from the tiny hotel window overlooking the street, but the light faded. The Otherworld gate would open within minutes. Every hour they stayed in one place was one more opportunity for the Watchers to find him and Flùranach. Her magic changed their appearance, but she wasn’t adept enough to cloak her magical presence from other faeries.

The red light of the digital alarm on the nightstand ticked over one more number. Rory was starting to lose faith the guy from the museum would show. They’d waited half the day. “Flùr,” he said. “I’m thinking we should move on tonight. Maybe a place by the airport can rent us a car.”

“What about the druid?” she asked sleepily. She lay curled up on her bed. “You said he’d come.”

If he really was a druid.
Rory sighed. “You’re right. We should wait for him.” First-hand experience told him the change must’ve already begun. Whether they stayed or not, his druidic powers had started to unlock. He’d need help. “I wish he wasn’t taking so long. What’s he waiting for?”

Flùr sat up and shrugged. “Who can predict what humans will do?”

A few hours stretched by in silence as they waited. Rory paced while Flùranach rested. Finally he flicked on the telly, unable to bear the quiet any longer.

“Is it so bad, being alone with me?” Flùranach asked. Her tousled hair hung around her shoulders and she pulled her lips into a pout.

“Don’t,” Rory said.

“Don’t what?” she giggled.

“Don’t flirt with me.”

“And why not? Don’t you like me?”

Rory stood from his own bed, walked to the loo, and shut the door. He weighed his options. Maybe they should go back. At least Flùr should, if he could manage to convince her to go. He would stay behind and wait for the druid. Either way, he had to get away from Flùr. He couldn’t be what she wanted. Sure, she was beautiful, and what guy wouldn’t respond to her? But he’d always treated her like a little sister. The image of her as an eight year-old refused to leave his head, no matter how pretty she was or how hard she threw herself at him.

He looked in the mirror, as if staring hard enough would force everything to make sense and the right answer would pop into his head. With a sigh, he leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. When he straightened, he jumped back in shock. His hair had turned bright blue. “Flùranach!” he shouted.

A muffled gale of laughter came from the bedroom. “Like it?” she asked. “Let me see!”

He had to get away. He loved her, but he shouldn’t be this close to her, alone, with her flirting like this. Jerking the door open, he strode into the bedroom and gathered his wallet and the change he’d dropped on the dresser. “Time to go,” he said.