Page 18 of Druid Dreams

I really hate this. Him. I really hate him right now. “Tell me.” I demanded.

He turned a pompous smile to me and took a deep breath. His chest expanded with his inhale, and he slowly stood up from his chair. He had always been one for theatrics.

“Jack.” I ground out through clenched teeth.

“I guess you still haven’t read that letter, the one Nathaniel left for you?” he cut his eyes at me and I nodded my head in silent agreement. Shit, I haven't read the letter yet. When my facial expression changed he raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me and quickly returned that self-important look to his face. “So, Sloane King, may I present to you...” he paused dramatically, “Drum roll please...” he slapped his hands on his thighs, “Your mates.” Jack flourished his left hand towards the table full of guys and bowed at the waist. Yep. I hate him right now.

“Franklin,” I shouted. “Can we get some liquor, please?” I was trying to process the news as fast as I could, really I was. I think I need some whiskey. It was made for shitshows like today. That should help, right? Fuck! All I could do was blink as my eyes scanned around the table. I was stunned speechless, but then that fucking pull in my chest made so much godsdamned sense that I felt like a fucking idiot. Gods fucking damn it, this popsicle licking, son of a Devil loving whore!! He fucking knew!? “Jack, I’m going to fucking kill you.” I told him with certainty. They weren’t a bad bunch to look at, but seriously? He could’ve shared the news with me sooner. Like, as soon as he found out.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say? I don’t think I heard you properly.” Vaughn had both eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline, shaking his head as he addressed Jack. Novak had a knowing grin on his face, like he was privy to some joke that went over everyone else’s head. Briggs was just blinking.

Stone looked over at Briggs like he was worried. “Are you okay, mate?” He stopped abruptly before adding, “Uhm, man. Fuck,” he stumbled eloquently, suddenly uncomfortable with the male term of endearment. I get it. I really fucking do.

Briggs stood from the table. “I, uhm, I’m fine. I think I just need some fresh air.” He was still blinking every two seconds as if that could erase his memory of the last four minutes. I wish it worked like that.

“We’re outside,” Novak laughed and moved his arm around like he was showcasing my yard to the shocked shifter.

“This makes more sense now. Ya knew, didn’t ye, Novak? I’d been wonderin’ myself...” Palmer trailed off, nodding his head until he saw that we were all looking at him but NOT understanding.

“Wondering what?” I asked warily. I couldn’t fucking help it. I needed to know what in Hell's name was going on right now. I didn’t want to know, but I needed to know, damn it. I thought I might be officially freaking out on the inside. Where the fuck is the liquor, Franklin!?

“Sooooo,” Jack sang, “Four apprentices, two Princes, and the future Queen of Supes walk into a bar...” his joke trailed off as he wiggles his hips, “Now, you’re just missing one more, bitch, and then you can really get this party started.”

Palmer

Saturday Late Morning

“...You’re just missing one more...” Jack said eagerly.

That sentence played on repeat in my head. Over and over and over again. One more. One more what? Mate? Surely not. That would make six of us. I thought back over his ill mannered joke. Four apprentices, check. Two princes? Nope, just the one. I’d never heard of any supernatural creatures having more than two mates, except Amelia King. She had three. But, Sloane? She had six? Was that what Novak figured out earlier? That feckin’ eejit. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.

“Missing one more what?” Vaughn inquired quietly. He was never one for red tape. Also, I had it on good authority to assume he was shite at math.

“A sixth mate, what else would I be talking about?” Jack looked around at all of us and paused for a second. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Did I miss it?” He sounded a little sad, like he’d be really fucking happy if he had seen a ghost.

“Holy shit, where is Franklin?” Sloane questioned herself as she got up from the table to walk inside. We all stayed silent and still. No one seemed to know what we should think about the situation. Those dots that were floating around my head started to hasten their efforts in connecting. I was lost in thought but I vaguely heard Jack yell “read that letter while you’re in there, bitch.”

“Who is the sixth?” Stone was the first to get to the point. I was curious too, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice just yet. I only knew one other prince. A ball of dread appeared in my stomach at that realization. I hope he didn’t say...

Jack answered Stone, confirming my musings. “Names York, but I can’t find him anywhere. I know enough about him to put in a good godsdamn search but he hasn’t surfaced for abo-“

“Two years? Give or take a couple months,” Briggs interrupted.

Yeah, we knew York. That fucking Druid. He dipped out one evening and never came back. No calls, no letters, no notes with the wind. Nothing. The elemental jackass up and vanished. The fucking Druid? Really?

“You’re joking, right?” Novak peered over at Jack. “Just, tell me you’re joking. Even if it’s a lie.”

“No, I’m not. He’s the sixth and we need to find him. The sooner the better. Sloane is in danger and once she amasses all her power,” he let out a deep sigh and ran his hands through his hair, “Lets just say she’s gonna have an even bigger target on her back than she already does.”

All those leftover dots still floating about my brain finally connected in one huge “holy fuck, how did I not see that” grandslam of a headache. That was why all six of us were so close. It had to be some kind of secondary bond. We couldn’t find her so we stuck to each other. I looked around the table at all my friends, and I couldn’t help but see a pattern. If we were all mates to Sloane then the seven of us were going to make one overpowered team. It wouldn’t just be a target on her back. Oh no, we’d all have targets on our backs. This is a fucking disaster. What the fuck are we gonna do?

I’d read about mate bonds. I knew, theoretically, what happened when the bond snapped into place. Now that I was thinking about it, I could actually feel the pull that drew me to her. We would share some of our powers. Our bond would be unbreakable, except in death, but with a bond shared between so many we could potentially keep each other alive. Our weaknesses could become strengths, but our love would become a weakness to be exploited. Love? Right. Okay, Palmer, you're getting a wee bit ahead here, mate. Fuck. Mate?

I stood to pace the patio. Pacing helped me work through all my thoughts. It was a nervous reaction for some, but it grounded me. I ran through all the things we were each good at, thinking about training schedules and what we could teach each other. I knew I was getting ahead of myself, but for once in my life, I felt like I couldn’t do this without a solid plan. I liked to stick to facts, but I was also pretty good at winging shit. Not this though. Nuh-uh.

“We need ta train,” I stated firmly, drawing everyone’s attention. “We need ta start workin’ on any weaknesses we may have and figure out some sorta schedule. Someone needs ta be near Sloane every hour. I know she can handle herself, but two, or more, is always gonna be harder to fight than just one.” I slowed my pacing and watched the guys all nod their heads.

Jack chimed in. “I'll call Grim. He can help too, when he’s not working. He loves Sloane. We should also start looking for the Druid. You guys seem like you may have had a falling out or something, but she’s going to need him.” He reached for his phone and began typing. I was assuming it was a text to Grim. Whoever that is.