Shoulder the Skye (Skye Druids #2)(38)
Author: Donna Grant

 

“And now the son is being accused.” Her mother’s lips twisted. “I knew Emily well. She was a sweet soul who loved her children beyond reason. I can’t imagine how she’ll react when she hears about Elias. And with Elodie finally back on Skye…” Her mother grunted, shaking her head.

 

Her father patted Kirsi’s folded hands. “If the dreams return tonight, and you still can no’ see them clearly, we’ll take the next step.”

 

“Thanks. I think I’m turning in.” She rose, kissed both of them, and put her cup in the sink before walking to her bedroom.

 

Kirsi closed the door and kicked off her shoes before falling face-first onto the bed. She grabbed one of the faux fur pillows and hugged it to her as she rolled onto her back. She had hung pink lights around her room, casting the space in a subtle glow. Her bedroom was her sanctuary, her refuge. As she stared at the lights, her eyes began to lose focus, and her lids became heavy. She closed them and was almost immediately asleep.

 

“You know what to do.”

 

Kirsi was in that space between sleep and dreaming. The voice was strong, distinctive. Feminine. It came from all around her. She tried to open her eyes to see something.

 

“Forget about seeing. You know what to do.”

 

But she didn’t.

 

“Yes, Kirsi, you do. You always have. Now is the time. Look deep within yourself. You know what to do.”

 

Who was this person talking to her?

 

“One who is reaching across time and space. Lower your walls.”

 

What walls? She was trying to understand, to see.

 

“You don’t need to see anything. That’s why the dreams are eluding you. Stop looking and feel.”

 

Kirsi tried to do as the voice asked, but she wasn’t sure what to even attempt.

 

“The time is coming. You need to be ready. You know what to do.”

 

“I don’t!” Kirsi yelled.

 

“You always have—in this life, and the hundreds before. Lower your walls. The time is coming. You must be ready. Just remember, you know what to do.”

 

Kirsi’s eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her chest. This time, she remembered every word.

 

 

 

 

 

Ferne sucked in a much-needed breath and yanked the blindfold from her eyes. She shivered despite the heat of the fire where she sat before the hearth. Rain beat a steady tempo against the windows, but she barely heard it. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

 

She had finally reached Kirsi. It had taken her far longer than it should have, but the Druid was exceptionally strong. Kirsi had no idea of her power yet. It was by happenstance that Ferne had stumbled upon her to begin with.

 

And if she did, then so could the evil that continued to grow on Skye.

 

Ferne had no interest in going to the infamous isle. Her family had been driven from it generations ago, and none of them had stepped foot on Skye since. It was why she had reached out the way she had to Kirsi.

 

All Ferne could do now was watch and wait to see if the young Druid figured things out. Rhona needed to be warned. All the Druids on Skye—mie and drough alike—needed to prepare.

 

How the largest group of Druids in the world didn’t realize what had happened boggled her mind. The fact that they didn’t know told Ferne just how critical things were.

 

She rose on shaky legs and walked around her small flat, pulling the sheets from all reflective surfaces. By the time she reached the kitchen, she could barely stand. It took great effort for her to open the fridge and get out the container of orange juice. She drank it straight from the carton, liquid seeping from the sides of her mouth and running down her face.

 

Ferne gulped down several swallows before lowering the jug to the nearby table. She half-sank, half-fell into one of the chairs. She then kicked the fridge door closed and leaned her head back. It had been some time since she had used so much magic at once. But it had been imperative.

 

After so many failed attempts to connect with Kirsi, Ferne knew her time was running out. Yet, even now, she wasn’t sure that what she had done would be enough. Her gaze landed on her mobile. It wouldn’t be hard to find Rhona’s number and call her. It was a last resort. Unfortunately, they were nearing that point.

 

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and drank more orange juice. The sugar helped her recover her strength. She wouldn’t be fully back to normal for another thirty minutes or so, but at least she hadn’t passed out.

 

The dull headache that always followed such use of magic began. She reached across the table for the bottle of ibuprofen and took three pills. Her eyes drifted shut. She didn’t know how long she hovered there before a loud banging startled her.

 

Her brother’s angry voice reached her through the door. “Open the fucking door, Ferne.”

 

She pushed to her feet and walked the short distance to the front of the house on semi-solid legs. After unlocking the three bolts and lowering the wards, she opened the door.

 

Mason’s stormy gray eyes met hers and, somehow, grew even angrier. He stepped into the flat and closed the door behind him. He gently took her face in his hands, turning her head one way and then the other. He must not have liked what he saw because his lips pinched. “Goddamn it. What have you done?”

 

“What had to be done.”

 

“I felt your magic across London. The others will have, too.”

 

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Then let them come for me.”

 

His nostrils flared as he released her. “They’re already on their way.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

 

 

 

 

Bronwyn could feel Elias in the house. His presence was everywhere. Somehow, he filled the manor in a way that no one ever had. It was distracting, disturbing. Downright off-putting.

 

Yet her thoughts drifted to the magnetism she felt between them. The primal attraction that went deeper than anything she’d experienced before. The longer he was around, the stronger she felt it, like weighty bonds. Those ties weren’t heavy. No, they were light as a feather, but as strong as the mighty mountains of Skye. And as bottomless as the sea.

 

Elias filled her every thought no matter where in the house he went. She could feel him, like a pulse. And when he was near, the desire was so absolute, so momentous, that she wondered how she hadn’t given in to the yearning, the bone-deep ache to feel his body against hers. It would be good between them. Great, even. She knew it with a certainty that alarmed her.