Chapter Eleven #2
“I count eighteen of them. What do they want? And why were they birds, but now they’re men? What, exactly, are they doing out there? It looks like they’ve formed one of those New Agey woo-woo talking circles or something.” Mabel viewed the images from the camera with a frown.
“I doubt if talking is overly high on their list of priorities,” Owain said, a resolute expression firmly affixed as he marched out of the meeting room, Hunter on his heels, and Mabel and the others following.
Hunter briefly consulted with his tribe members while Owain faced his uncles, the dragons hanging back a few yards. Christian stood midway between both groups, clearly wanting to support his kin, while at the same time being respectful of the eighteen men who stood in a circle, intoning softly.
It was the flicker of red around the men, a faint aura of power that Hunter caught from his peripheral vision, that had his fire reacting. He reached for his élan vital, remembered where it was, and immediately swore to himself.
“Are these guys dangerous?” Mabel asked, close enough he could feel heat from her body.
He gave a half shrug. “I assume the fact that Owain went out by himself means they aren’t deadly, but I don’t like it.
Just as soon as we take care of the weyr situation, and get Dawn to a place where no one can find her, I’m going to get my élan vital back from the Finnish thief, and then turn my attention to that bastard Deus. ”
“I’ll help you,” she said, and, to his delight, cracked her knuckles. “He really is almost as slimy as Papi.”
He was about to answer when the men in the circle, who had been standing shoulder to shoulder intoning a prayer to the gods in an old dialect of Gaelic, suddenly broke, and all turned to face them.
Several of the men frowned at the sight of the dragonkin filling the area.
“What’s with all the dragons?” one of the intruders asked, turning to Owain. “Why do you always have dragons with you?”
“I’m not always with them,” Owain snapped, looking peeved. “Just now and again. We’re working together on a project.”
Hunter didn’t want to interfere unless required, not with Dawn being hidden in a bedroom, protected by three of his personal guard.
But he’d had about as much as he’d take, especially since there was a delicious Mabel to introduce to his bed.
He took a step forward, but paused when Archer pulled out his élan vital and handed it to him.
Hunter shot his twin a look that promised an explanation in the near future, gave a nod of appreciation, and strode forward to take a stand next to Owain, the élan vital in one hand.
“I am Hunter Vehar, master of the Shadow Tribe, and a dragon hunter. This is my tribe’s compound.
The Dark Ones are our guests. You, however, are not.
State your business before I lose what patience I have for unwanted invaders. ”
“You needn’t be so hostile,” one of Owain’s uncles said, stepping forward. “And just so you get off your high horse, we’re here to talk to him, not you.”
“And yet you come unasked to my holding,” Hunter said, shifting the sword to his left hand so he could use his right to start drawing a confinement spell. “What is your name, druid?”
“Béibinn, and you can just stop with the show of dominance,” the man answered, gesturing toward Hunter’s spell hand.
“Did he say BAY-vin?” Hunter heard Aisling ask behind him.
“He did. I wonder how you spell it,” Mabel answered.
“As the possessor of a relatively simple Celtic name, I don’t think we want to know,” Aisling answered in a hushed tone.
“We’re not intimidated by your dark power,” Béibinn continued, his gaze shifting to Owain. “Druids being naturally resistant to it, and all. Owain ap Aidan, we come bearing a message from Jericho, also known as Angharad ferch Cailitin, sister to twenty-seven brothers and four sisters—”
“Three sisters now that she had that batshit-crazy son of hers kill Ozymandra,” one of the other druids interrupted.
Several of them nodded.
“Which batshit-crazy son?” Béibinn turned around to ask of his kin. “There are so many of them. Well, Owain seems to be sane—mostly—but the other three aren’t right in the head. Not right at all.”
“What’s this about Ozy being killed by one of them?” a third druid asked, gesturing toward Owain. “I thought a wrath demon killed her. Didn’t Cillín say a wrath demon killed her? I know he did. Let me text him.”
“Yes, a wrath demon killed her, but it was at that idiot Cadell’s behest. Or rather, Jerry’s,” Béibinn said.
“Doesn’t Cadell go by a mortal-world name now?” yet another druid asked the brother next to him.
The latter nodded. “The name is Deacon. Names are important, you know? My eldest is dating a trans woman, and she says if we don’t treat her girlfriend as female, then she’ll cut us off. Like I care what gender anyone is? So long as she is good to my daughter, I’m happy.”
“My son is gay, also,” a fourth druid said with a nod. “He came out last year. Can’t say I was surprised, but still, it was nice he felt comfortable telling us.”
His brother frowned. “I didn’t know that. Did you put it in the family monthly newsletter? More importantly, how long has it been since we had a good chat over a pint?”
“Too long. I’ve been busy—well, you know how it is. Let’s go find a pub and catch up now, while we have time. Béibinn can deal with this well enough without us.” The two men turned and strolled out of the circle, chatting quietly.
“You’re leaving?” one of the remaining druids yelled, fairly bristling with outrage. “Do you forget you’re warriors?”
“Aye, they have,” another druid called after the men. “They’ve grown soft living amongst the mortals. Where’s your pride in Clan Cailitin?
“They’ve forgotten their roots,” a different druid said, this one with an obvious sneer. “Mortals used to fear the clan, and now you’re so deep in with them that you couldn’t frighten a snail!”
“Wait ... we’re going to the pub? I promised the missus that I’d go straight back home after we get the blood moon, because we’re not going to have a dry day for the next week and a half, and she’ll skin me alive if I don’t get the deck stained,” a druid in the back said to no one in particular. “I’m for a quick pint.”
“We just told you that you’re too soft. ... Oh, for the love of the twelve gods,” a druid directly in front of Hunter said, slapping his hands on his legs as he turned to yell at his brothers. “Just leave, then, but don’t think we aren’t going to tell Da that you’re bailing on clan business!”
“Aye, I’m of that mind, too,” a druid said to the man who was hurrying off. “Béibinn has this in hand, I reckon.”
Six more druids turned into large ravens and flew off toward the nearest town.
“Ya cowards!” the mouthy druid in front of Hunter yelled after them.
“You’re so hardcore,” the one next to him said as he also shifted into raven form. “We spent centuries doing that, and all it got us were lectures from Da every time he had to resurrect us. Some of us have lives, you know.”
“We’ll not soon forget that you bring shame to the clan,” Béibinn called after the departing druids, shaking a fist at them as they flew off. “Da will have a thing or two to say about that, too!”
“I feel like we stepped into an eighteenth-century French farce,” Mabel whispered, her breath teasing his ear, making him suddenly aroused.
He willed the erection away, promising his libido he would indulge Mabel in the steamiest lovemaking possible later, once the situation with the blood moon was resolved.
“Unfortunately, I feel the same,” he answered before gesturing with the sword and saying to the remaining nine druids, “Is there a point to your trespassing?”
Béibinn, who had been arguing with one of his brothers about whether their father would strike down the sons who had, in his words, turned soft, spun around to face Hunter and Owain. “Eh?”
“You said it was something to do with my mother,” Owain said, martyrdom dripping off each word.
A bubble of inner laughter threatened to burst out of Hunter.
“That’s right.” Béibinn squared his shoulders.
Hunter tightened his grip on the élan vital.
“Jerry demands you relinquish unto her the amulet known as blood moon no later than moonrise tonight. If you refuse, we, Clan Cailitin, will take it from you.” His gaze shifted to Hunter, the kin behind him, and Yrian before returning to Owain.
“And unlike those cowards who’d rather fill their bellies with ale than fight, we will not hesitate to strike down anyone who resists. ”
“Do not underestimate them,” Yrian said softly as he moved next to Hunter, the three men providing a symbolic barrier. “They are more powerful than they appear.”
“Considering the amount of magic surrounding them, I believe you.” Hunter watched as Owain took a step forward, his hands spread wide to show he was unarmed.
As with the druids, Hunter wasn’t fooled in the least by Owain appearing to be humble. He’d heard from the wyverns just what sort of power Owain could wield if called upon, and he counted on the thane to significantly help should the druids hold true to their threat and attack.
“Why does Jerry think I have Desi’s amulet?” Owain demanded of Béibinn, now arguing with a different brother over whether Jerry would have them resurrected if their father struck them down.
Hunter, able to see auras when they were suitably strong, raised his eyebrows at the sight of the red tendrils that burst into a halo around the thane in response. What was the thane doing wielding blood magic? That hadn’t been seen in at least a millennium.