Remnants of Magic (23 page)

The wizards lingered near the front of the pack, listening attentively to Riley. Especially when he spoke of the fey. “The fey still exist, even in this modern era,” he assured the gathered faithful. “They dwell in secret, hidden by enchantments. It’s up to us, those who believe and reverence the fey and their magic, to protect the last groves and hidden valleys, to preserve these mystical places before the fey are lost to this world forever.”

Many nodded and murmured among themselves. Riley persisted, “I was made druid by one of the most powerful of fey, the Sidhe god of magic, Manannan.” He touched the seashell he wore. “I was gifted with his token as a reminder of my pledge to serve him. Which is why I beseech you to support my stance against the proposed expansion of development on this isle. When you feel the power of this place, don’t you feel the magic of the fey humming through your veins? Developers see wide-open space where they can raise great hotels or factories, but aren’t we more than a society of concrete and steel? Aren’t we the trustees of our druid ancestors who knew the magic of this place? Aren’t we as much a part of this island of wind and sky and sea as the Sidhe we once worshiped?”

Riley smiled magnanimously at those around him. Each stared up at him with the same devotion. Only the Sidhe magic within her granted her the power to resist his lure. Even Joe, who should’ve had the Touch of his Unseelie patron to strengthen him, paused in his photography to watch.

“Now, as I was blessed by the Touch of Manannan’s power, bestowing upon me all the power and responsibilities of a druid, so too shall I share his blessing with each of you.”

How the heck did he propose to do that? He was no Sidhe.

Riley removed the seashell with the symbol of Manannan from his necklace. One by one, his devoted followers knelt before him. The first was a vapid-looking brunette, one of his groupies. Riley placed the shell against her forehead. “Manannan and the Sidhe bless you, my sister, so that you may give yourself to their service.” She gasped with his touch and then flung herself at him in an enthusiastic hug that would’ve toppled him if he’d not been prepared for it. He permitted the embrace for a few seconds and then moved her along. One by one, each person gave a similar outburst to his so-called blessing. Whatever enchantment laced that seashell profoundly affected those that felt its power. London’s fingertips had been inches away from it, and she’d still felt its power like electricity. If just being near to him resulted in a wash of overwhelming charisma, there was no telling what effect actual direct contact with the charm might cause. Or if the Sidhe magic that protected her would be enough to resist its influence.

The wizards abstained, but watched with wide grins and nods. Their approval alone set off her internal alarms.

During the blessing ceremony Joe continued to snap pictures. When the last few people approached Riley, Joe got into line himself.

London watched, so intent that her fingernails dug into the stone where she clutched it. She wanted to scream a warning, but he’d be furious if she blew this mission. Even still, Joe didn’t know the power she’d felt from the charm. Didn’t realize how dangerous it was.

Just as the others had, Joe lowered himself to a knee so the blessing could be conferred. From her vantage point, London saw Riley stretch out his hand to press the shell against Joe’s forehead. As the charm made contact, Joe’s back arched as if jolted by electricity.

Chapter Nine

As Riley withdrew the charm, Joe swayed, rubbing his forehead. The druid steadied him as Joe eased to his feet. Just like the others, Joe embraced the druid with a brotherly, masculine hug. Then he backed off. London thought he seemed a little slower after the jolt from the charm, but no one else, not even Riley, seemed to notice.

The druid raised his hands, reclaiming the attention from the small groups chattering joyously around him. “You’re all now initiates of the druid rites!” Riley proclaimed, receiving enthusiastic applause. “I trust that in your faithfulness to Manannan, your lord and patron Sidhe, you will support the continued preservation of the Isle of Man and all of the natural habitats of the British Isles.” Once more they raised their voices in cheering agreement. Even Joe cried out with boisterous approval as he clapped. “Then I entreat you each to meditate on your experiences here this evening and I bid you a safe journey home.”

Dismissed, most of the congregation collected their belongings and filtered away amid excited murmuring. Riley cut short the attempts by a few to engage him in continued conversation. When finally granted a reprieve from his fans, Riley approached the wizards. From behind one of the stones he withdrew a duffel bag, which he passed off to the elder of the two wizards. All the while, his hand cupped possessively over his amulet and the seashell that he’d returned to his necklace. His broad smile appeared more genuine than it had all evening. Definitely not a good sign. Any true servant of the Sidhe wouldn’t count wizards as mates.

Joe didn’t seem to pay any attention to the conversation between Riley and the wizards, instead coaxing a few of the pretty lassies to pose for pictures. That his camera angle included the transaction going on behind the girls was lost on both them and on Riley.

When the wizards departed with their bag, Joe finished packing up his camera and trailed off after them. Although he’d not given her any signal, London suspected that he meant to follow them. So when the last of the people meandered their way down the hill toward their cars, it left only herself and Riley on this secluded hill with the twilight drawing shadows over the land and only the moonlight and stars to see by.

After the noise of the gathering, the silence of the approaching night seemed incredibly sharp. London finally peered out from around the stone.

Because of the look to her make-up, and her resistance to his enchantment, London imagined that Riley had mistaken her for one of the fey. Not all the fey were as aggressive as the Changelings and Sidhe. Fairies, pixies, and even the Brownies were known for their shyness. Already, Riley had assumed that she might bolt at the first opportunity, so London played up her reticence, hoping to keep him at bay. When she crept out from hiding, she clung to the stone as if for protection. The fear wasn’t completely feigned.

Riley unnerved her. The charisma that so mesmerized his followers wasn’t his own. The fact that he dealt with wizards didn’t bode well for anyone. She suspected that he might even be a wizard himself. So if Riley thought she was a fey, then she was as good as dead.

Chapter Ten

Riley’s easy smile brimmed with friendliness, but the force of his stare fixed her with its intensity. “You didn’t run.”

“I promised that I wouldn’t.” London shifted back a step. At this exact moment she wished she’d brought a weapon. Or, at the very least, her cell phone. Both were in her rental car at the bottom of the hill. Her scant outfit offered no good hiding spots. But then again, she’d not expected Riley to become a threat. Not until the wizards showed up.

He edged closer.

As she raised a hand to halt his approach, London mimicked the cadence of Lugh’s archaic speech. “Be still. Advance no farther.”

Riley bowed slightly, with an innocent spread of his hands. “You’ve nothing to fear from me. I’m the humble servant of Manannan and friend to all fey.”

“A friend to the fey?” She raised her chin, becoming bolder as she slipped into her fey-act. “And yet ally with wizards?”

Riley shifted, twisting back toward the path the wizards had taken when they left, as though double-checking that they weren’t there. Probably stalling for time while he formulated a lie. “I’ve heard a little of the complicated history between the enchanters of Britain and the fey, but that ended hundreds of years ago. Generations before these enchanters were even born. I promise you, no human from the time of the war still lives. I respect your reluctance, though. Old feuds are hard to forget. I mean only to be a bridge, an emissary between fey and humans.” Riley warmed to his topic. The orator in him added persuasion to his argument. “Since humans and the fey broke faith with each other in the great war, the fey have lost so much. As have humans. The fey have been vanishing from the fields and groves. They’ve lost their influence over the Emerald Isle, seeing industry and expansion consume their homes and heritage.” He nodded, seeking agreement from her, but she resisted. “And humans have lost the sense of wonder and magic, leaching the very color from our lives, leaving us with a dreary, gray existence.”

His arguments fell on deaf ears with her. London knew what wizards were capable of. She pressed him. “What was in the satchel?”

“Incidentals, I assure you.” Riley bowed with his head, as if trying to convey submission without really admitting anything. When London backed away, as though she meant to leave, his polite demeanor fractured. “Wait! I will tell you, lady. Please!” And with that desperation, London thought she spotted something of the true man underneath the persona. While his druid act came off like a performance, as much as his courtly attempts to charm her, this fear that shone in him now was genuine. As was his plea, “Just don’t leave.”

Her fey-act was working, but she couldn’t stumble in the delivery. Depending on how much he knew about the fey, he would eventually see through her. London only had to keep him believing long enough to tell her what she needed to know.

“The enchanters, the wizards as you call them, wanted some bit of fey magic. Before pledging myself to Manannan, I was a historian. I uncovered a few trinkets in a grove that was once the home to a tribe of pixies, according to medieval manuscripts.” He cradled the symbol of Manannan on his chain, as if swearing on it. “These bits and bobs came from my own collection. I didn’t steal them.”

“And for what did you trade these fragments of fey magic?”

Riley’s hand covered the amulets protectively.

“They gave you this enchantment, did they not? That grants you this influence over humans.”

“No, Manannan blessed me with this power when he called me as his druid. His token, the shell, was his gift to me. It channels the power that humans feel.” His reply had the casual assurance that rang true. “The crystal is from the enchanters. It allows me to continue Manannan’s work until his return.”

Riley closed his eyes. Half turning away from her, he admitted, “The longing was too great.” His eyes squeezed tighter as he shook his head. “The need too terrible.”

London knew that pain. Knew the terror of an aching that nothing could fill, except the Touch.

“I thought I would die,” he whispered, “and I might have, if not for the mercy of the enchanters.” His eyes slit open just enough to gaze down at the amulet still pinched between his finger and thumb. For a long time, he just stared at it. “I can endure now, but nothing can replace the magic of the Sidhe.”

Finally, Riley lifted his gaze to London once more, offering her the shadow of a wistful smile.

And then Riley glanced just beyond her. His smile faded with the widening fear in his eyes. “I know the fey don’t trust easily, but please, please, you must trust me now.”

“Why?” The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. London couldn’t resist the urge to check behind her.

The second she dropped her guard Riley’s arm locked around her waist. He snatched her right off her feet and back into the center of the circle of stones. London struggled uselessly against his unyielding grip.

Chapter Eleven

“Get off of me, you prat!” London punched down on the arm clenched around her stomach.

Stronger than she’d have guessed, Riley slung her around as if she weighed nothing. “Get behind me!” He unceremoniously dumped her onto her bum in the grass. From a sheath hidden on his calf, he jerked out a polished blade that glistened in the moonlight like quicksilver.

Riley didn’t threaten her with it.

Instead, he positioned himself between London and the three advancing wolves. A confident grip on the handle and assuming an experienced stance. Not ninja-style, but street-wise. “Werewolves, I think. Can you flick out? Teleport or whatever?”

“No.” She scrambled to her feet behind him.

The animals were huge, with legs freakishly longer than any normal wolf’s. The fur wasn’t evenly distributed either, but in rough patches like the beasts were diseased. They snarled at her with massive, white teeth. Menace glowed in their eyes.

London hissed, “Those aren’t werewolves.”

The wolf in the center trotted closer. Through jaws not meant for human speech, he growled, “And she’s no fey.”

Riley cut a frantic look over his shoulder, then back at the animals. “Not fey? Not werewolves? What am I in the middle of here?”

“Those are Changelings.” London snatched up a rock. Not much as far as weapons go, but good enough to bash in a skull.

The three beasts circled them. London backed against Riley, not giving the Changelings an easy angle of attack.

“They’re fey?” Clearly surprised, Riley beseeched them, “I serve the Sidhe, your masters. Back down!”

Wrong thing to say. London knew it the moment the words burst out of Riley’s mouth. Riley knew it a second later when the Changelings charged.

A wolf lunged at London. Huge jaws opened wide enough to snap off London’s entire head. Saliva glistened on the fangs rushing at her face.

Then the animal suddenly jerked in midair.

At the same second, the report of a rifle echoed across the hills.

Even though the animal twisted in pain and death, its momentum carried it forward. It smashed into London and knocked her back. In the chaos, she barely missed crashing into Riley. Instead, London landed hard on her back with the crushing weight of the Changeling smashing down on top of her.

Riley shouted over the growling snap of a wolf and another explosion of gunfire.

London struggled to get the animal off of her, its blood slick and sticky on her skin. She halfway freed herself when Riley dragged the beast the rest of the way off of her. His shirt was torn open. Claw marks gashed down the smooth skin of his chest, bleeding steadily. “The other two flashed out. I might have wounded one, but not bad. Who’s shooting?”

“A friend.” At least, she assumed it was Joe. He might have other backup out here that she didn’t know about. “We need to get away from here.”

“I’ll second that.” He hooked a hand under her elbow and jerked London to her feet. “My SUV is down the hill.”