Chapter Thirty-One
Sage
"I don't know why, but I'm nervous," I admit, arms crossed tight as we wait for the druid to arrive.
Eira volunteered to pick her up from the airport, so now it's just the three of us waiting. I rub the celestite crystal in my pocket like a worry stone, the surface smooth and cool against my thumb.
It's not just the spell. It's the fact that, once this is done, I'll have no excuse to stay. No more 'until I'm protected' or 'until it's safe.'
If I stay after this… it's a choice. With all its consequences.
"We've got the crystal, the money, and some rabbit food for her. What's there to worry about?" Kayden says, arm sliding around my waist.
He's balancing a glass of scotch in the other hand. He's been sampling flavors the whole day and still settled on his favorite liquor in the end.
"It's not rabbit food," I grumble, eyeing the hummus platter. "Okay, maybe the carrots and celery. But the crackers are fancy."
"It'll be fine," Asher says quietly, brushing his knuckles against my jaw. The touch is feather-light but grounding. "We're here with you."
I nod, though my stomach is doing slow flips. Having them beside me helps, since I'm not sure what I'm doing.
Soon enough, we hear tires on gravel. The car stops.
Eira steps out first, graceful as always, with her flowing clothes and that serene, not-quite-human stillness she carries. The woman beside her is the surprise.
I expected someone older, wiser in the gray-hair-and-bone-charms kind of way, but the druid looks barely thirty. Mid-thirties at most. Short black hair, dark eyes sharp as obsidian. Small frame, but there's weight in her presence—authority without effort.
"Hi," she says as they enter the living room. "You must be Sage. I'm Maeve." Her voice carries an Irish lilt, melodic, but with an edge beneath it.
"Nice to meet you," I say, stepping forward.
After short introductions, we all take our seats.
Eira grabs drinks—sparkling water for herself, juice for Maeve—and they settle into the armchairs.
I take the middle of the couch. Kayden perches on the armrest beside me, sipping his scotch.
Asher sits next to me, posture upright, spine rigid like he can't quite let go of his soldier's reflexes, even in his own home.
Maeve studies us with a slow, assessing gaze.
"I don't usually respond to summons," she says, crossing one leg over the other. "But I was curious. Eira told me what you are. I've never met a made-nymph."
"She mentioned the generous commission, too, I'm guessing," Kayden adds dryly.
I elbow him, but he only grins.
Maeve doesn't blink. "Money helps," she says, then tilts her head at me. "But let's be honest—if I were in this for cash alone, I'd be knocking on Darius Hawthorn's door. He'd pay better than any of you could."
My stomach twists. "How did you—?"
She waves a hand. "Darius is the most powerful satyr in North America. You're a nymph, asking for a protective spell against a satyr. Took about five seconds to put it together."
Her dark gaze holds mine. "But don't worry. I haven't reached out to him. I'm not here for leverage. I'm here because I'm curious. And because Eira asked."
She says it like a promise, but I still feel the tremor of unease settling deep in my bones.
"You'll still help us, then?" Asher asks.
I notice the phrasing—us, not her. I appreciate that more than I can say.
Maeve leans back in her armchair, legs crossed with the casual grace of someone fully in control. "Yes," she says, "I know what you need. And since you've got the celestite—" she glances at me.
I nod, pressing a hand to the stone in my pocket.
"Then it won't be difficult. But," Maeve adds, tone shifting slightly, "I want something else. Aside from the payment."
Of course she does.
"I want your story," she says simply. "How you became a nymph."
I tense, my body reacting before my brain can catch up. The memories roll through me like a wave—visceral, vivid, unwanted.
Beside me, Kayden shifts. I can feel the heat change in him, protective energy rising like static. "And if she doesn't agree—"
I place a hand on his knee.
"It's okay," I say quietly, locking eyes with him.
He studies me for a beat, trying to read how much of this is bravado. I can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn't. He gives me that choice.
I turn back to Maeve.
"All right. I'll tell you. But afterward, you'll do the spell. No conditions. No clever loopholes."
Maeve nods, her expression serious now. "You have my word. It's an old rite, but not a difficult one."
I nod, take a breath, and begin.
"I was in my late twenties. Homeless. Lost. I'd burned every bridge back to the life I'd come from—family, privilege, all of it. I fell in with a radical environmental group. At first, it was protests and campfire talks. But over time… it got heavier."
My voice stays steady, but my fingers twitch in my lap.
"We lived in communal barracks, followed the cause like it was religion. We fought for forests, oceans, wildlife. All of it. Some of it was legal. Some of it wasn't. I didn't care."
I glance down, watching the shadows between my fingers.
"One campaign took us to a protected forest in Washington State. Ancient land, sacred, in a way. It had been quietly and illegally sold to a development company. They planned to gut it for condos."
I pause. The next part scrapes at something raw inside me.
"We chained ourselves to trees. Blocked equipment during the day. But we knew that wouldn't be enough. That night… we went back. Sand in oil tanks. Valve removals. Sabotage."
As if sensing my rising distress, Kayden's hand finds mine and pulls it into his lap, threading our fingers together. His thumb presses into my palm, grounding.
Asher doesn't say a word, but his hand settles on my knee. A quiet squeeze of solidarity.
I let myself breathe into their presence for a second before continuing.
"We didn't know that some of the workers would come back that night."
And just like that, the air tightens.
"I was at one of the last machines, near the tree line. I heard a commotion, but I figured it was normal. Maybe a warning call for someone getting too bold."
I pause, jaw tightening.
"Too late, I realized the others were running. Scattering. I tried to bolt too, but… There were three of them. Drunk and angry. They were not amused by what we were doing."
I shift, trying to keep my voice even, though the memory rakes through me like barbed wire.
"One of them caught my arm and slammed me hard into the side of a bulldozer. I think he dislocated my shoulder, maybe cracked something. I don't really know. Everything blurred into pain and panic."
I can feel the tension in the room climbing, breath by breath.
"My lip was split. My eyebrow bleeding. I'd hit the metal frame when I went down. I was dazed, barely there. Then they really looked at me and got some other ideas into their heads…" I don't finish the thought. I don't need to.
Kayden growls, low and animal, a sound made to terrify.
Asher doesn't move, but I can feel the storm brewing in him, palpable even in his stillness.
Neither Eira nor Maeve speak. They don't interrupt.
"Do you know who they were?" Asher asks, voice level but tight.
"I'll hunt the fuckers down," Kayden snarls, and there's no doubt he means it. His face is pure violence and dark anticipation.
"I don't know," I lie. "It's in the past."
What I don't say is that Darius found them and made sure they never touched anyone again. That's a different story. One I'm not ready to tell.
"They dragged me into the woods," I continue, quieter now. "One of them covered my mouth. I remember the stench of sweat and cheap beer. Their voices, laughing. My fear spiking so fast it made everything spin."
Kayden mutters a curse under his breath, fists clenched.
"They pulled me deeper into the forest. Out of earshot. Out of sight. It was dark, just slivers of moonlight. I was fighting, but they were bigger, and I was already hurt."
I close my eyes, just for a breath. "One of them shoved me too hard. I fell. My head hit something. Stone, I think. I remember the crack. The pain. Then blood. I couldn't move."
"Their conversation blurred after that. Panicked and slurred. They realized I was bleeding hard and might die. And that… that scared them more than what they were about to do."
"That's where they drew the line?" Asher says, voice laced with disgust. "Not assault. Not brutality."
"Yeah," I breathe. "That was their boundary."
For a beat, no one speaks.
"I don't think they were thinking at all," I say finally. "They ran. Left me there."
I look down at my hands.
"All I remember after that was the cold. The trees. The way everything started to blur. Like I was dissolving. And then… it changed."
I close my eyes again, letting the memory come.
"It was like a dream. Or something older than dreaming. Warmth. Light. Something… ancient. It didn't speak, not with words. But I felt it. Like an offer."
I look up at Maeve.
"And I said yes. I don't even know why. I didn't understand what I was agreeing to. I just didn't want to die alone in the dark."
Maeve perks up, leaning forward. "What did you feel when you woke up?"
I pause, letting myself go back there.
"I felt… everything. The woods were alive in a way I hadn't understood before. I could feel sap running through trees. The grief of roots where the forest had been cut down. The quiet ache of constant death and rebirth all around me."
I shake my head. "Back then, I didn't have the words for any of it. It was overwhelming. Loud, in a way that had nothing to do with sound. I had a headache, but my injuries were gone."
I glance at the floor, remembering. "I got up. Started walking. It should've been terrifying—alone, in the dark, right after being assaulted—but I wasn't scared. I moved like I knew the forest. Like it was mine."
Maeve nods slowly, her dark eyes sharp with interest. "Fascinating.
I've never heard of a transformation like that in modern times.
There are myths, though. Ancient stories of nymphs born from nature itself.
Some were daughters of Titans or gods. And then there's Cyrene—a mortal woman elevated to nymphhood by Apollo after they wed.
She wrestled lions, hunted with Artemis.
Quite a story there, and closest to your case from what I know. "
I let out a breath. "Well, I hope Apollo or Artemis gave her a manual, because I got jack shit. No visions. No guidance. I tried to go back to my old life, but it didn't fit anymore. Everything felt… off. Like I was out of sync with the world I used to know."
My voice quiets.
"Only when I met Darius's people did I even begin to understand what I'd become."
Maeve tilts her head. "And now that you know, how do you feel? Is anything different?"
Her tone is analytical, like a scientist studying a rare specimen.
Fine. I'm not here for sympathy.
"I constantly feel nature. Especially the ache.
The imbalance. It's hard to drown out. I have the power of allure, which is too strong sometimes and unreliable.
I can heal fast. I'm stronger, faster, and, apparently, immortal.
Or close to it. I haven't aged since I was transformed. I was twenty-eight then."
Maeve's eyes narrow. "Most are common nymph attributes. However, you don't seem to be repelled by death."
Her gaze flicks to either side of me—the two protective vampires.
"No," I say, carefully. "I'm not repelled."
She smiles, sharp and knowing. "Quite the opposite, from what I can see. You've shared your blood with them, haven't you? I can see traces of it, flickering in their auras."
I don't respond.
"I don't know why I'm like this," I say instead, shrugging. "Maybe I'm just built differently from other nymphs."
I reach into my pocket, take out the crystal, and place it on the coffee table between us.
"I told you my story," I say. "Do you need anything else?"
The druid shakes her head. "No. I have everything."