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I wanted one thing. To return to Duncan. That’s it. I didn’t ask for any of this other stuff. My desire to return was pure, simple. I’m a girl, he’s a guy. We had a connection. One I’d like to explore. Simple.
Except nothing in my life is simple. He is four hundred years in the past. He might have died on the last day we were together, and I can’t even get one of these monumental jackasses to answer that simple question. Did he live?
Here, in the now, where I belong, my life is a mess. My family needs me, my friends need me, and everything is falling apart. It wasn’t like this before I left for Scotland. What have I returned home to? How did it all go so wrong?
“You’re not ready,” the Druid says with a loud harumph as he turns away.
He shuffles down the alley without looking back. Indecision holds me frozen in place. I never would have considered myself an indecisive person, but this, this is different. Above the roiling in my belly there is a fluttering in my chest like a dozen wings trying to break free. Cold chills race up and down my limbs.
The decision is mine. They all keep saying that. Which is fine, but whatever decision I make decides the fate of worlds. Worlds, how funny. A month ago, there was one world. The nice, cozy one in which I lived. Went to school, pursued my dreams. A world in which I was so excited to score a trip to Scotland, the place I’d dreamed of since my mom told me stories of it when I was a little girl.
What a nightmare.
I’m the Destroyer. My decisions have consequences, intended or not. This decision, right now, is simple. Do I want to train or not?
Recalling Duncan’s kiss, my lips tingle. I close my eyes and inhale deeply of his memory. The smell of him, earthy, musky, strong with the scent of animals and sweat. I have to try. I open my eyes and see the Druid at the end of the alley. He’s about to turn a corner, and I know if he does I won’t see him again.
“Wait!” I yell, breaking into a run.
He looks over his shoulder, bushy eyebrows drawing together. As I try to stop I hit a wet spot and slide. The cat on my shoulders I’d all but forgotten, yet again, screeches, digging its claws in, and I yelp in pain and surprise. I pinwheel my arms and pedal my feet trying to stop.
The Druid doesn’t appear concerned in the slightest. He makes a small gesture with one hand, a dismissive wave. I lean into the skid trying to get control. I stop. Hard. There’s nothing in front of me but it’s as if I hit an invisible wall. As soon as I’m stopped the resistance is gone and I’m left panting in front of him.
The cat meows and settles onto my shoulders. Absently I reach back and scratch between its ears. The Druid stares, waiting. I huff a breath, then another, letting my heart rate slow.
“You have something to say?” he asks at last.
“I am ready.”
“I say if you are or not.”
“Please,” I say as all my obstinance drops and fear slides in to replace it. “Look. I know enough to know I don’t know. How am I supposed to make a decision, any decision, unless I know? I…” I swallow hard, really not wanting to say this next bit, but I swallow my pride. “I need you.”
We stare. Silent. Waiting. I can’t read his wrinkled face. There are so many lines that the lines have lines. His thick, wiry, and blatantly nasty beard moves as he chews something that I don’t want to know what it is. The rank odor drifting from him turns my stomach, but I’ve felt his power. I suspect, but can’t be sure, that all of this is a seeming. An illusion that he’s projecting for reasons of his own.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” He nods sharply. Excitement bubbles in my core when he agrees. “Great! When do we start?”
“We already have. Return tomorrow at ten p.m. Do not be late.”
“That late? I have to—” His sharp glare cuts me off and I nod. “Right.”
The cat meows and leaps off my shoulders, moving to the Druid. I look between the two of them for a moment longer, then turn and leave the alley. I don’t know what I’ve signed myself up for, but a decision has been made, for better or for worse.
ChapterTwelve
Day three,I think as I drag myself out of bed.
Everything hurts. Muscles I didn’t know I had hurt. I thought I was tired before but I’ve reached into some new territory of sleep deprivation. I’m no longer tired, or I don’t feel it. Numb is more accurate.
The world is dark, gray, and dreary. If nothing else I’ve been sleeping in four-hour stretches instead of fifteen-minute catnaps. I’m too tired for nightmares. Training with the Druid is not anything like I expected or hoped even. It’s more like I’m training for the Olympics than to use magic. We haven’t used any magic or anything close to it. Not once.
The Keurig beep is a second alarm, pulling me out of the gray fog that passes for my thoughts. I take the cup of espresso and sip without waiting for it to cool. As I pass the mirror I squash the temptation to look. Vanity went the way of feeling rested. Gone into some never never to the point I’m not sure I remember what either of them are.
I make my way to class, but I can’t focus on the professor. There are some discussions at the end of his lecture but I crouch low in my seat every time his eyes pass over to avoid being called on.
“Quinn,” he calls right as I’m almost out the door.
