Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (17 page)

“But your hair!” she squealed. “It’s pink! Won’t people laugh?”

“What?” he said and glanced in the mirror behind the dresser. She’d coloured his hair neon pink. The change was only an illusion but not one a human mind could penetrate, not even a druid’s.

“Fix it,” he said sharply.

“No,” she said. “I like pink.”

“Goddamnit, Flùr.”

“I don’t want to go home,” she said. With a playful wiggle of her fingers, she shifted the illusion a second time. Black and white striped fur covered his skin. With pink hair on top. She fell into another fit of laughter.

Rory went over to her and snatched her off the bed, forcing her to stand. He shook her shoulders. “Stop!” he shouted.

Her eyes opened wide, and her smile disappeared. “I was only playing,” she said softly. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “Why don’t you want to play with me anymore?” She dropped the illusion, and his appearance returned to its natural state.

“Flùr,” he said, gently releasing his grip and running his hands down her arms. “Everything has changed. You aren’t a little girl anymore. We can’t be like we used to.”

She leaned forward. “Then let’s play as adults do.” She kissed him on the lips, but he pushed her away. She fell back and sat on the bed.

“We can’t be like that either. Jesus. You’re eight years old!”

“How long was I unconscious?” she asked.

“Two weeks—a half moon,” he replied. Didn’t she remember?

“In that half-moon, I saw a thousand years’ worth of time. I wasn’t unconscious. I remember everything.” She shook her head. “I’m not a child anymore.” Despite her assertion, her voice sounded small.

He knelt in front of her. “I don’t understand what happened to you. None of us do. But this doesn’t seem right. I can’t be what you want.”

“All I ever wanted was for you to be my druid.”

“I would if I could, but this isn’t meant to be.” He pitied her. Nobody understood what she’d been through. She needed a friend, but being alone with her frightened him.

“Would you truly?” she said, watching him.

“Of course,” he said.

“If there’s one thing I learned from the time stream, it’s that there’s no one future. Time holds more possibilities than we can count.” She looked at him strangely. “There’s no such thing as
meant to be
.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she gripped him with her magic. A noose of power wrapped around his neck.

“I can touch your bond,” she said. “Just like with all the others. It’s an unopened flower, a nub. Your power has been unlocked, so its edges are more splayed than the man at the museum, who was still closed up tight. When my magic brushes against the end, it quivers. Can you feel my power?”

Rory didn’t even have the ability to nod. He could barely breathe. Clutching at his throat, he fought against the darkness.

“I have one too,” she said. “Mine has a long tendril. But when I try to touch yours with mine, it doesn’t connect.” Frustration rang in her voice. “Why won’t you bond with me?”

“Can’t breathe,” he gasped.

“What?” She looked at him as though she’d been far away in her thoughts. When she gazed into his eyes, she relaxed her grip barely enough. “If only I could knit the bond together, I would show you we
are
meant to be, as much as anyone else.” Her eyes went dark. “Did Munro tell you the words he said to the queen when they bonded?”

Rory shook his head, still struggling. He could breathe a little easier, but not by much.

“You’re lying,” she hissed. “I hear your thoughts! Why would you lie? You said you loved me!”

“I do,” Rory said, the sharp pain in his throat causing tears to stream down his face.

“Then tell me the words.” Her face had changed, and Rory was alarmed. This wasn’t the Flùranach he knew.

“
Dem’ontar-che
,” he choked out.

“Now say the words again. This time like you mean it,” she said, tugging at his will.

Unable to resist, his throat made the sounds. “
Dem’ontar-che
.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, pain ripped through him. Agony consumed him. He wanted to hide in unconsciousness, but Flùranach wouldn’t let him go. Her mouth met his. Small fingers pulled at his clothing. Her body pressed against him, and skin met skin. He had no control. His flows wrestled against hers, but he stood no chance against her enormous power. The more control she took, the more she revealed of her own mind. The view terrified him. Her consciousness appeared like a great, roaring abyss.

He couldn’t even look away. She held him down, body and soul. He thrashed in his thoughts, but his body wouldn’t respond to his commands. Against a magical being of her power, he never stood a chance. She took everything from him and forced him to watch, his mind screaming in protest.

Suddenly, voices sounded in the room, but Rory couldn’t respond. Strong hands wrestled Flùranach away, and he was released. Weeping, he curled into a ball beside the bed.

A man’s hand touched his shoulder and pulled a blanket off the bed to cover him. “It’s okay, Rors. I’m here.”
Munro
. “It’s over now. You’ll be okay.” Even though Munro stopped Flùranach’s physical assault, her presence welled inside him. She stole his bond. Nothing would be okay ever again.

Munro paced the hotel room floor, waiting for someone who might never arrive. His undirected rage kept him in motion, even though he tried to calm down. If this supposed druid did show up, Munro had to move carefully with him at first. Christ, what a mess.

He didn’t even know who to be angry at. Flùranach was the obvious choice, but having gone through an intense transformation himself, he questioned whether she should be held entirely responsible. Plus, no matter how old she appeared, she was eight years old. A child by any standard. Rory made his share of dumb choices, but Munro had been a cop long enough to know you don’t blame the victim for things they can’t control. The druid was no match for Flùranach. Oron should have watched his granddaughter more closely. Eilidh perhaps shouldn’t have come down so hard on Flùranach, which indirectly led to the girl running away in the first place. And guilt rested squarely on his own shoulders as well. If he’d been around more, maybe Rory wouldn’t have tried to do this on his own.

His mind spun, and the powerful high he experienced after touching the Source Stone faded quickly. Although some changes had been permanent, he was starting to come down and feel very human again.

Flùranach’s attack worried Munro for many reasons. His primary concern was Rory’s well-being, but what if any azuri fae could force a bond on a druid? Before, the prospect of kingdom status hadn’t worried him. Now they
needed
to attain the standing of the ancient draoidh, if for no other reason than to protect themselves.

At Griogair’s insistence, Munro had brought three faeries to search for Flùranach and Rory: one azuri to disguise them with illusion and two earth faeries to act as trackers. It took all three to restrain Flùranach’s magic. If only they’d arrived earlier. Even five minutes might have been enough.

The attack shattered Rory’s world. Time and patience would help more than words. Although the bruises would heal, Munro couldn’t yet gauge the extent of the psychological and magical injuries. Whatever flows Flùranach used to force the bond, Rory was experiencing serious pain. Unfortunately, the trauma of the assault meant Munro would need to take care when questioning him.

Munro told the faeries to take Flùranach back to the Otherworld for Eilidh to deal with, and offered to let Rory stay behind to wait for the new druid. Learning Flùranach actually found one had been a bit of a shock. If she had the ability to gather druids, punishing her for her crimes became more complicated.

When Rory heard Munro’s plan, however, he’d gotten panicky. Flùranach needed him, he’d said. The idea of a bond compelling him to follow someone who had violated him turned Munro’s stomach, no matter how remorseful she seemed afterwards. Rather than cause Rory more pain, Munro agreed to let him return to the Otherworld too. He wanted to go as well, but someone had to stay behind, and he was the logical choice. The faeries wouldn’t know how to talk to a recently unlocked druid.

Now all Munro had to do was sit in the dingy motel room and wait. Rory’s description had been vague. He didn’t even know the guy’s name and only had Flùranach’s word he was a druid. Only time would tell. The guy wouldn’t stay away long if she unlocked latent powers. Munro decided to give him twenty-four hours. If he didn’t show up, Munro would head back to the Otherworld and return another time.

When two hours passed with still no sign, he picked up the phone book and found the number for the Aberdeen Royal Infirmary. His mobile was long dead, so he used the hotel phone. He worked through the menu of options and at least two wrong connections before getting through to the Accident and Emergency department.

“Hello,” he said when a woman answered the phone. “This is PC Munro with the Tayside Police.” They didn’t need to know he’d left the force more than six months before. “We’re on the lookout in this area for a white male, mid-thirties to mid-forties who may be suffering from a condition which would lead to seizures, disorientation, possibly a fever. He’s American, dark hair, and just under six foot. Have you had anyone fitting the description brought in tonight? It’s important we locate him as soon as possible.”

Just as the woman put Munro on hold to check, a loud knock sounded from the hotel room door. Not wanting to waste a second, he hung up the phone. He would dial her back if he needed to.

A glance through the peep-hole told Munro the person on the other side of the door might be the druid. He unlatched and opened the door. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. “Come in.”

The man in the corridor hesitated. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Flùranach. I know,” Munro said and moved aside to let him pass.

The American walked in, seeming dazed. It wasn’t until he stepped up that he noticed Munro’s face. His gaze went to Munro’s pointed ears, then he looked at his eyes. Munro gave him credit for not stepping back.

When he entered the room, he glanced around. “Where are they?”

“They had to go but asked me to wait for you.” Munro gestured to the room’s only chair.

“This is crazy.” The guy turned to go, but Munro caught his arm.

“If you leave now, this is the last time you’ll see us. I can’t stay here much longer.” Munro fought not to shudder. For the first time, he felt weaker in the human realm. The distinct lack of earth magic around him sapped him and made the air smell like death. No wonder the faeries hated this place.

“You’re not human.” The American lowered himself into the chair.

Munro shrugged. He gave the best explanation he could come up with that was both true and brief. “I’m something in between.”

“Where do you have to go?”

This wasn’t how Munro wanted to introduce a human to the concept of being a druid, but none of them had a clue what they were doing. He wondered if, once upon a time, druids developed a system for easing someone into this different life. “We call our home the Otherworld. It’s the realm of the fae.”

“All this is real then?” Without waiting for a response he said, “I feel different. Sick. Kind of misty in my head. I would’ve blown it off, but tonight I did this.” He pulled a half-burned toothpick out of his pocket.

The blackened wood intrigued Munro. Fire magic was rare in druids, or so he’d been told. “Can you do it again?” He sat on the edge of the bed and watched the guy stare hard at the remaining end of the stick.

“No,” he said finally. “I keep trying, but when I did it the first time, I wasn’t even thinking. I was at a club with some friends.” He tried to laugh the experience off, but he sounded worried. “What’s happening to me?”

“You’re a fire druid,” Munro said. “A sorcerer. Our powers come naturally, but we require contact with the magic of the Otherworld to unlock them.” When the guy looked confused, Munro said, “Flùranach is fae.”

“She doesn’t look like you.”

Munro chuckled. Flùranach likely wore an illusory disguise when she met him. “This is a lot to get a grip on. We all had a difficult time in the beginning.”

“You used to be like me?”

Munro nodded. “A lot has happened, but yes, I’m a druid. Stone is my sphere.”

“How many of us are there?”

“Only four others I know of. Recent history in the faerie realm has made their relationship with humans distant. They lost much of the knowledge of druidic magic. There may be many in the world, their abilities still unlocked.”

“Can I meet the others?”

“Sure,” Munro tried to smile, despite the exhaustion and worries on his mind. “I will bring them here in a couple of weeks, once you’ve had time to consider your choices.”

The American looked crushed. “Why can’t I go with you now?”

“I’m going to the Otherworld. It’s not like visiting London. Travelling through the gates gives a shock to the system. Crossing over even once changes you. You’ll have difficulty returning to a normal life once you breathe the air.”

The guy nodded, but then changed the motion so he was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I want to go. I’ve got nobody to go home to, and I won’t be around in two weeks. I’m due back in Houston by the tenth.” He twirled the burned toothpick end in his fingers. “I need this.”

Munro stared at him hard. Flùranach might’ve coached the guy, and he might be faking. Munro didn’t have any way to be certain. He also didn’t know if the new druid was ready. He nodded toward the bit of wood in the guy’s hand. “Burn that again, and I’ll take you.”

The man concentrated for all he was worth, but nothing happened.

Munro stood. “I’ll come to the museum where you met Flùr and Rory an hour after sunset in three days. We’ll talk then. You may do better with some time and practice.”

Beads of sweat broke out on the man’s forehead. “I can’t…”

“Look, don’t worry. I couldn’t do much of anything in the beginning. The magic requires time.” He walked toward the door. “I’ll meet you on Thursday,” he said.