Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (15 page)

“What do you think this is?” Oszlár asked quietly.

The question seemed innocuous, but Munro could tell by the eager looks on the others’ faces that they expected something profound. He had no clue what they wanted, so he didn’t say a word. The stone drew him forward.

Then, from somewhere deep in the rock, a glow formed. The change was subtle. At first Munro thought the radiance a trick of the light. It grew until no one could mistake the source.

A high-pitched hum started quietly but increased in volume until Munro’s lips buzzed. He glanced at Oszlár, whose eyes swirled with magic. Each of the other keepers looked as enraptured as the elder. They leaned forward with anticipation. What did they expect him to do?

Munro glanced at Oszlár, “Can I touch it?” he asked.

Oszlár bowed in response and stepped back.

The glow grew more intense until the light appeared to burst through the surface of the rock. The bright luminescence showed through the fleshy parts of his hand as he passed it over the artefact. A rune of light appeared atop the cold stone. Munro fought to catch his breath, uncertain why his body responded so strongly.

He recognised the rune instantly, even though he’d never encountered it before. The intent came through with absolute clarity. “Foundation,” he whispered, then amended this translation. “Transformation.” He shook his head. He was almost there. “Origin.” He glanced back at Oszlár.

The keeper said quietly, “We translate this symbol as
Source
.”

“The Source Stone,” Munro said, turning back to the artefact. He ran his hand over the surface more confidently before placing his palms on either side of the rune.

The stone had Munro entranced. He didn’t know much about the artefact’s lore. Some said the Source Stone gave faeries their power. He understood by its feel this wasn’t true. This piece had been crafted by earth flows, and not just any magic had etched the runes. Munro recognised the timbre of druid magic.

Music played in his head, a strange, haunted melody. Every pore on his skin tingled with such intensity, his hairs stood on end. Exhilaration more forceful than any sexual peak shuddered through his body, and he couldn’t supress a primal groan.

Pain and pleasure coursed through him in equal measure. His back arched as magic surged through his blood, pumping his heart with a fierce rhythm. He rushed to heights of ecstasy before the flows finally released him in a rush of power.

Tears streamed down his face, and Munro fell limp against the stone. When he managed to stagger to his feet, he turned. Each of the keepers bowed low. “Draoidh,” they said one after the other.

He’d experienced a similar sensation before. The first had happened when Eilidh unlocked his druidic powers. The next came when he entered the Otherworld the first time, which set off another kind of transformation. It also heightened his senses, gave him increased stamina, and changed his physical appearance, giving him a fey look. On his first visit to the Halls of Mist, a strange shift occurred within his body. Now he understood. He could trace those reactions in some way to the magic of this artefact.

Shimmering gold tinted his skin. Placing his hand on his chest, he felt his heartbeat. It no longer kept a steady rhythm. For the first time in his life, Munro knew with absolute certainty who and what he was. He was dying. “I need to lie down,” he said.

He didn’t remember how he got to the Caledonian Hall, or the many faces of those who helped him up the long stairwells. Someone must have supported him across the bridge over the mists, mists he now knew came from the power of that artefact. He could feel the Source pulse and radiate even from a distance.

Ríona guided him to his suite, but he hadn’t remembered her appearing. She undressed him and washed his clammy skin with soft, cool cloths. When she took off her clothes and lay next to him, he tried to form a coherent thought. “I can’t,” he said.

“You are draoidh,” she replied with a whisper. “You can take any lover, claim any mate, give any order, and expect it to be obeyed.”

He didn’t have the energy to shoo her away, so he let her stay. Everything he was would be dead by morning, of that he felt certain. He wanted to protest but lacked the strength. His mind fell into darkness as he listened to the whirring cells in her body.

The hotel where Rory and Flùranach had spent one awkward night didn’t offer even a meagre continental breakfast. Rory didn’t mind. Although he missed sausage and bacon, he had an idea the meat wouldn’t taste right to him anymore, like the Coke at the bar hadn’t. He didn’t want his fond memories of the smell of crackling bacon ruined by the reality of too-salty, processed meat. He took Flùranach to a supermarket on Union Street, and they bought fresh fruit and bottled highland spring water.

Flùranach chatted, as full of energy as though she’d slept well, and asked questions about the surrounding buildings. While Rory thought the dark grey granite gave Aberdeen a cold, austere appearance, the craftsmanship and architecture fascinated Flùranach. The city seemed so different to Skye, where she’d grown up. The faerie realm had nothing to compare either.

A cold wind bit at Rory’s ears, and he wished he’d thought to bring different clothes. Unlike Munro, Rory and the others still wore their usual jeans and pullovers, but an anorak and a pair of gloves wouldn’t have gone amiss right about now. Also unlike Munro, he hadn’t gained the ability to ignore heat and cold. Rory hadn’t spent much time in Aberdeen, but he had come here once or twice, and every bloody time he froze his arse off.

They walked around for a little while in the early morning, then stopped and ate on a bench across from the Berryden shopping centre. Rory tried to quiet the dread in his stomach. What had he done? He realised now, in the literally cold light of day, people were likely going spare about them disappearing. He’d also not considered that the Otherworld gates closed at dawn, so he couldn’t take her back now, even if he managed to convince her it was for the best. By the time they got home, they’d have been gone more than a full night and day. Faerie children were fiercely protected, and even though Flùranach had changed, he couldn’t imagine Oron would shrug this off.

“What’s wrong?” Flùranach asked as she crunched on a small green apple.

“Your grandfather is going to kill me,” Rory said. “We walked around all evening and didn’t sense a thing. Coming here was a mistake.”

Flùranach tossed her apple core onto the grass. “We can’t go back until we find another druid then.” Her tone was light, and she didn’t seem worried.

“You planned this all along, didn’t you?” Rory fumed. “You said we would come and poke around for a few hours. Nobody should have even known we’d gone. How the hell did you talk me into this?”

“Don’t be angry,” she said, and when she looked at Rory, her words pulled him, as though she’d given a command.

He tore his eyes away from her and stood up. “Don’t do that.” Backing away a few steps, he wouldn’t let himself meet her gaze.

She laughed. “Averting your eyes won’t protect you from astral influence.”

“Goddamit, Flùr. Stop. I have a right to be pissed off.”

“I thought it would be more pleasant to not be angry, but if you want to fume, go right ahead. Wallow in your fury,” she teased.

That made the situation worse. He was still mad, but now he also felt guilty for
wanting
to be angry. “Look, I just wasn’t planning to go on the run.”

“Neither was I. You must believe me.”

At least this time, he didn’t sense her trying to make him believe her. “We’ll stay here for the morning, walk around the shops till noon, but then we move on.” Panic started to set in. She was right. They couldn’t return to the Otherworld empty-handed now. “As soon as people realise we’re both gone for real, it won’t take long for someone to ask the borderlands Watchers if we’ve passed through.”

Flùranach nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “They’ll search Caledonia first. I counted on us having at least a few days.”

Hearing her admit she’d manipulated him and lied hit him like a punch to the gut. He sighed, trying to get past his anger and make a plan. “If I was conducting the search, Scotland is the first place I’d look. It’s home. We know how to get by here, something that’s tough to do in the Otherworld. Because faeries can sense each other’s magic, I can’t pass myself off as anything but human there. Here, with your ability to change our appearance, we could go undetected indefinitely. Our only advantage is we picked Aberdeen instead of Skye or Perth, which is where they’d search first. The best we can hope is that the choice buys us a few hours.”

“Okay,” she said, frowning. He could tell she hadn’t planned this out as well as she’d believed. “Then what?”

“These shops will open soon, and we’ll take a walk around as people start to gather,” he said, gesturing across the way. “There’s a retail park down the road which usually has a decent-sized crowd, then we should go down King Street toward Guild Street. The bus station and the train station are close by. We’ll have to figure the fastest way to get to Edinburgh.”

“The wastes?” she asked, trepidation shaking her voice.

“If we want to be around as many people as possible, we need to go to a bigger city.”

She glanced around. “This is the biggest human city I’ve ever seen.”

Rory couldn’t help but feel bad for her, no matter how she’d manipulated him. The human realm had to be a little scary for someone so inexperienced and out of her element. “Aberdeen has a couple hundred thousand. Edinburgh has more than twice that. Plus, we need to get far away from the gate we crossed through. If we don’t have any luck in Edinburgh after a while, we’ll move on. Glasgow has a population of more than a million. Bound to be a druid or two somewhere.” He wasn’t sure he believed his own argument. How many druids were really out there? The faerie who collected him and the others took years to do it. Rory shuddered, not wanting to remember those days.

“Why don’t we go to Glasgow first?” she asked.

“I was born in Edinburgh. I don’t have any family or friends there anymore, but at least I’ll know my way around.” Rory sighed. “Come on,” he said. “Looks like the shops are open now.”

As they walked, Rory watched Flùranach for any sign she detected something, anything, from the people around her. The humans didn’t frighten her as they did some faeries, nor did they disgust her. She leaned into Rory and held his hand, smiling at him as though the entire day was a fun outing and they were a couple. Rory had to keep reminding himself
, she’s eight years old. She’s eight years old.
But the more time he spent around her, the less he believed it. She shifted from child-like delight to a sudden haunted expression that came from having seen too much. Then she would shake the mood off like nothing happened. His mum used to get that look when she thought no one was watching. “Are you okay?” he asked her as the sun climbed higher into the hazy sky.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m tired. Not used to being up so late.”

“You can sleep on the train,” he said, hoping they wouldn’t run into any trouble getting south as soon as possible. His instincts told him it could be a long time before they found any success. He was beginning to realise they could be stuck out here, beyond the gates, for months or even years and never find a druid.

An old lady smiled at them as she passed, tutting as though remembering her youth. Rory gave her a friendly nod but felt a sense of loss. He’d always dreamed of having someone as beautiful as Flùranach. By all outward appearances, he was living an enviable fantasy with her draped on his arm. But everything had gotten so twisted. Something nagged at him, telling him this wasn’t how things were meant to be.

They walked through the shopping centre, the retail park, and then down King Street. He decided to cut through Shiprow to head to the train station. He felt a sudden need to get Flùranach out of Aberdeen. He couldn’t help but imagine the streets flooding with faeries, all wanting Oron’s granddaughter back. If he met one of them right now, he’d go along happily. Part of him wanted to face the music, just to get it over with. He hated himself for being such a coward, but he really didn’t want to live his life on the run, no matter how right the cause.

Flùranach tensed. “What’s that building?” She pointed to a beautiful, grey structure with arched windows. Next to it was a tall, glass entrance, seeming almost incongruous along the historic street.

“I don’t know,” Rory said. “Why?”

“Let’s go inside,” she said.

“We really should get to the train station if we’re going to catch something down south today.” He couldn’t bear the thought of spending a second night in Aberdeen, haunted by the wrath likely coming through the gates at dusk.

Her eyes darkened strangely, despite the illusion disguising her race. Rory glanced around, fearing someone else might notice. Her voice went deep, almost like a growl. “We
must
go inside. Now.”

Oddly, he didn’t believe her astral magic caused the shift. These strange spells appeared to be involuntary, and they scared him a little. “Okay,” he relented. “We can see what it is.” He guided her to the entrance and read the sign. “Aberdeen Maritime Museum.”

She led him inside, ignoring the information desk. He held her back. “Are you open today?” he asked an attendant, giving his most winning smile.

The older woman nodded. “Noon to three on Sundays. Admission is free.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Would you like a tour? One’s starting in ten minutes.”

“No, we’ll just poke around.”

While he had chatted with the attendant, Flùr made a beeline for a trio of businessmen near one of the displays in the room beyond. Rory trotted to catch up and heard her say, “You must come with me.”

Oh, crap.
They hadn’t discussed what they’d do if they actually found a druid. Rory stepped in. “Hi,” he said to the confused men, who wore what could only be described as business casual. He glanced at the guy the middle, then the one Flùranach stared at. Snapping his fingers as though he’d remembered something, he said, “We met last week, remember? At that pub? Flùr here thought she recognised you.”