Chapter Twelve
Then abruptly three months ago, the trolls switched allegiance from the various gangs to the Men of Valor, the anti-human group against the Monster Treaty, which allowed humans and monsters to live in peace.
And now they were twice as menacing. It especially frustrated her to pay her enemies every time she wanted to use the subway.
“Pay the toll,” the massive creature said. His small head brushed the ceiling of the subway station.
She considered taking this full-grown one down herself like she did in Paris over the summer, but she’d had more space and leverage. She didn’t particularly want to take her chances here.
Kierse fished out a twenty and passed it to the troll. “Here you go.”
Her hand veered to the gun at the belt. She might have gotten used to a safer city, but she was still cautious. Especially with the Men of Valor brewing up unrest.
The troll squinted down at the twenty with his beady little eyes. He grunted in what must have passed for approval, gesturing his hand to the wall where the Men of Valor logo—spread wings pierced through with an arrow—was spray painted on the wall.
“Men of Valor thank you.”
Then Kierse pushed past the troll, swiped her Metrocard, and entered the subway beyond. She shot Graves a text about this new development of the public logos. It couldn’t be good for what they would encounter at the convocation.
She hit the rush-hour traffic on the subway and had to make room for the crush of people leaving their jobs.
Most of them would have taken the bus and refused to brave the subway only a year ago.
She wanted to think it was good news that it was busy, but there was a clear divide between humans and monsters inside.
Many of the humans congregated together and were on high alert for their surroundings.
Kierse switched from the C to the M line at Washington Square Park and watched the line thin as they crossed Williamsburg Bridge into Brooklyn.
Lorcan territory.
Well, it had been. He’d lived and worked here for over two hundred years.
The Druids and High Priestesses had been his people, and he’d kept them and much of Brooklyn safe from the worst of the Monster War.
It was only after the forced binding that he’d been cast out as the leader and that role had gone to his second, Niamh, who had rebelled against Lorcan and taken the Oak Throne for herself.
She hopped off of the subway at the Broadway stop, letting her shoulders drop from the tension in the underground, and headed into Druid territory.
Niamh stood outside of the main office building when Kierse ambled up. “Welcome home!”
Kierse let Niamh pull her into a hug. “Good to see you, too.”
Niamh’s Irish accent was as thick as her burgundy hair, which hung in a long sheet down her back. She’d traded out her practical Druid wear for her typical plaid mini skirt and a white crop top. A duster-style cardigan fell to her knee-high boots.
“I’m guessing by the fact that you’re here that Scotland didn’t work out?” Niamh asked.
“That’s an understatement,” Kierse said, following her down the street toward the Williamsburgh Bank building that held the Druid training quarters. “Stone was a fake.”
“Fuck.”
“And Lorcan was there waiting for me.”
Niamh’s eyes rounded. “Double fuck.”
“He’s in my head, Niamh.” It was so much easier to tell her this than the whole of it to Graves.
Niamh had known Lorcan the longest and been in a polyamorous relationship with his wife, Saoirse.
If anyone could understand Lorcan Flynn, it was Niamh.
“He was in my head when we were in Scotland. And earlier today I was kissing Graves, and Lorcan was in my head again.”
“It’s going to be hard to push him out with the bond in place. But he doesn’t know when you’re kissing him. He might want you to think that he’s always there in your head. But he isn’t.”
“Could it just be stronger? Could it be possible it’s changed?”
“Sorry. You’re in new territory, I’m afraid.
But I’m going to say that he doesn’t know.
That doesn’t mean he won’t try to make it more difficult for you to be together.
He’s still the Oak King. He still hates Graves as like his main personality trait.
And he lost everything to try to get at you, babe. ”
“He lost everything because of his own hubris.”
“True. He’s not making it easy on me, either,” Niamh grumbled.
“What do you mean?”
Niamh waved her off. “Just internal Druid stuff. Many still believe he should rule even though I sit on the Oak Throne.”
“That sounds like him.”
“Doesn’t it? So I’m not Team Lorcan right now, either. But I can see he’s lost his people, his land, his throne all for you. He’s going to fight to win you when he has nothing else.”
Kierse’s head dropped. “I just want him gone.”
“I know,” Niamh said as they stopped before the bank door. “Come on. I know some people who will cheer you up.”
They climbed the stairs to the first floor and opened the door to beautiful mosaic tiling and marble floors.
The rotunda had been carefully restored with a stunning painting, and much of the original mechanisms still worked in the room.
It was gorgeous, and she was glad that it had been preserved as part of the city’s history. Even if it had been done by Lorcan.
At the center of the room was a group of Druids in brown robes sparring. One final thunk on the mats as a large Druid woman with curly dark hair laid out another guy with ease and they called it. They laughed and shook hands and were dismissed.
Ethan had bulked out since joining the Druids. His corkscrew-coiled hair was cut short, falling short of his dark eyes and the scar that cut down the side of his face, tracing a dark line across his sepia skin.
“Kierse!” he said with a grin as he trotted away from his cohort.
A woman with her red hair piled up in a high bun at the top of her head appeared from another room and bounded toward them.
Gen’s High Priestess clothing was solid white against her pale, freckled skin.
And while she was partially blind from the macular degeneration, she could still see some out of her peripheral vision.
They both threw their arms around Kierse into a group hug at the same time, speaking over each other.
“You didn’t answer our calls.”
“Can’t text in London?”
“Walter and George came back without you.”
“They’d barely tell us what was going on.”
“Not that that isn’t normal…”
“But what the hell?”
Kierse pulled back and held her hands up. “Wait, wait, wait, too much at once.”
Gen huffed. “You fell off the face of the earth and didn’t have the decency to let us know what was going on.”
“I was on vacation?” Kierse said.
Ethan laughed, slapping his hands on his knees. “As if you’d ever go on vacation.”
“Okay. Graves and I were sort of kidnapped by Kingston and taken back to London, where he forced us to walk around the city and go to the opera in fancy clothes. Oh, and he pushed me in front of a train in the subway.”
All three of them gaped at her.
“All of that’s true. Well, except the kidnapping. Graves told him we were going to visit, but I guess he took it upon himself to portal us back. That’s why Graves sent Walter and George on without us.”
“You were really on vacation?” Ethan asked.
“As if that trip to Florida to see Daphne wasn’t enough,” Gen muttered, talking about the August jaunt she and Graves had gone on to get the information about the stone. “Now you get to go to London, too.”
“Next trip, we go with you!” Ethan proclaimed.
“It wasn’t a vacation,” she said.
Niamh held a hand up. “Why were you pushed in front of a train?”
“Kingston was teaching me to portal. He tried to put me in danger to trigger it since that does tend to work for me. It did not work here, and I was almost hit by a train.” Kierse shrugged. “I’m going to keep working on it. So far, I’ve only been able to draw a door.”
Ethan and Gen exchanged a glance.
“What?” she asked.
“When was this?” Ethan asked.
“Like three days ago. I’ve been working on it. I can’t seem to open the door, just draw it into the air. Every time I reach for the handle, it dissolves.”
“We have something to show you,” Gen said.
That sounded ominous, but she followed her friends from the main area of the bank toward the newest addition to the restored building—a magic tree.
Traditionally, there were several magical trees that the Druids worshipped. One of them had been made into the Oak Throne. Sansara had been drained and rebuilt by Jason when he’d been a Druid named Cillian Ryan.
Kierse, Gen, and Ethan had created the new one. They were a triskel—Druid, High Priestess, and wisp—who worked together to work bigger magic. Together they’d saved Kierse’s life from the god magic on the winter solstice, and then as they trained, their magic had turned into this tree.
But now they couldn’t even connect. Fucking Lorcan.
“So about three days ago, I was tending to the tree,” Ethan said. His magic was plant based. He could make them grow or use them as weapons. He’d always loved plants even before he discovered his Druidic blood. “And out of nowhere, it changed.”
“I was working with my healing magics nearby, and I felt it,” Gen said. “The triskel connection activated, and I hadn’t felt it since we made the tree.”
Kierse stopped dead in her tracks as the tree came into view. It was easily twice as big as the last time she’d seen in it, towering into the upper reaches of the rotunda and obscuring the painting. The power that emanated from it was staggering.
And directly before her was a door.