“There’s no way they’re gone,” Beth said.
There were nods of agreement from the other Druids around the circle, some adding “ayes,” as well.
Sorcha’s arms started to ache. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay in this position.
“It was probably all a lie,” Patrick said.
A woman with dark skin stepped forward. “It isn’t a lie. I can say that because I was part of the Others. Moreann chose me herself.”
Everyone looked at the woman, including Sorcha. She memorized the woman’s features, all while hoping to hear a name.
Beth gave Patrick an I-told-you-so expression. “Between her words and what we overheard, I decided to call this rally together with those I knew were not only powerful enough to stand against the Fae but also strong enough mentally to know what they’re getting into.”
Patrick ignored Beth and looked at the other woman. “Where is Moreann?”
“I don’t know. I’ve not heard from her in weeks.”
Patrick threw up his hands and glared at Beth. “See?”
“But…” the woman said, drawing out the word to get everyone’s attention. “I can tell you that I was visited by the Dragon Kings, who made it very clear that I was to forget anything to do with the Others.”
At the mention of the Dragon Kings, some Druids stepped back, visibly shaken, while others frowned in concern. Sorcha knew of the Kings, but she had never met one. She honestly wasn’t sure she wanted to. She knew they protected this realm and had since the beginning of time, but they were obviously a group that one simply didn’t want to fuck with on any level.
Beth jerked her head to the woman. “Dragon Kings? You never said anything about them.”
“Why does it matter?” the woman asked with a twist of her lips.
“It matters because of who they are,” Patrick told her. “You should take their warning to heart.”
The woman laughed. “The Others were out to destroy the Kings. And it was working, too.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Obviously not if the Others are gone, and the Kings are still here. And why would the Others want to be rid of the Kings?”
“None of that matters!” Beth shouted and slashed her arm through the air to halt any more talk. “We’re here because the Others needed Druids. That’s what we are. If the Fae think they can form a group themselves to take over what the Others began, then there’s no reason we can’t do the same.”
This time, it was Sorcha who rolled her eyes. She debated showing herself to the group to tell them the facts of what had happened between the Others, the Dragon Kings, the Fae, and the Druids. Still, she realized none of them would believe her. They wanted their own version of the facts, and that was the only thing they would listen to. It would be her folly if she allowed them to know that she was here.
No longer able to hold herself up, she let her arms straighten so she could lower herself down. It didn’t take long for her to realize that the words of the group were garbled once more. Sorcha steeled herself and resumed the position to pull herself up.
“We need to take a vote,” Patrick said.
Beth nodded and folded her arms over her chest. “I agree. All for creating a Druid group, raise your hand.”
Sorcha’s gaze scanned the circle to see that more than half had raised their hands.
“Against?” Patrick asked as he raised his.
Fewer people were completely against the idea, but even more in the circle hadn’t chosen a side at all.
Beth flashed a bright smile. “Guess we know who wins.”
“Not so quick,” Patrick pointed out. “Many didn’t vote.”
Beth wasn’t happy to hear that. She must have realized that if she pushed things now, those who didn’t vote might not side with her, which meant that Patrick would have won. Instead, the Druid said, “All right. Let’s take a few days to think about it. Let’s meet back here again in three days. Everyone who comes must vote. Understood?”
The group nodded and began to turn and hurry away as lightning lit up the sky. With that cue, the rain intensified. Sorcha wanted to stay and listen, see if anything else was exchanged. But between her arms aching and the roar of the rain, she doubted she’d be able to hear anything. Deciding to be safe, she carefully lowered herself and looked over her shoulder at the storm that raged behind her.
She then looked at the cliffside and the narrow trail she’d used. The growing darkness, along with the storm, made it difficult to see. She didn’t want to get caught out on the cliffs. It was either go up and climb over the edge with the possibility of someone in the group seeing her. Or she could go back the way she’d come.
Sorcha debated the choices for a moment and decided to chance going back along the cliffs. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten caught in a rainstorm while climbing. But it was the first time in Ireland on cliffs she didn’t know. And, she was alone. Without anchors.
“Well, this night just keeps getting better and better,” she said.
She took a step and was suddenly slammed against the cliffs by a fierce wind gust. Her hands clenched the rock in an effort to stay rooted to the spot. Maybe she should’ve chanced climbing up and over. Then she thought about being caught climbing up with wind like that, and it sent a chill down her spine.
“Slow and steady,” she told herself. The same words her mother had used often with her and her sister.
The rain pelted her now. The droplets were large and heavy as they slammed against her. The lightning, wind, and thunder sounded and felt as if it were on top of her, but she didn’t look up to find out. She didn’t take her eyes from her route, because all it would take was one slip for her to fall. No one would hear her screams over the storm, and her body would likely not be found for days.
She had no identification on her, so the authorities wouldn’t even be able to return her to Scotland. The last thing she wanted was to die in Ireland. She still couldn’t believe she was on the isle the Fae called home. She’d hated it for as long as she could remember, and the current situation didn’t make her feel all warm and fuzzy.
An eternity later—with a couple of heart-stopping slips—she finally made it back to solid ground. Even then, she had to traverse the rocky terrain down to where she’d parked the rental car.
Sorcha picked up the pace. Now that she was off the cliffside, she felt she could move more quickly. It was a mistake. Within minutes, her foot slipped off a wet rock, and she twisted her ankle. She crumpled, grabbing her injury.
“Dammit,” she said as her ankle began to throb.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted lightning not far from her. It hit the ground, causing a loud crack. Sorcha screamed and jumped. She had to get to the car and out of the storm. She wasn’t safe here. But when she tried to put weight on her injured foot, her eyes welled up with tears.
She fell back onto her butt and slapped her hand on the ground beside her. How could this be happening? She knew better than to rush through terrain she didn’t know, but to do it at twilight during a storm? It was a rookie mistake that she shouldn’t have made.
Lightning flashed again, revealing the outline of a man about twenty meters below her. He stood as still as a statue as he faced her. She jumped for a second time, unsure what to do. Was it one of the men from the rally? Someone else?