I closed my eyes, shutting out his ire which wasn’t helping, and tried to block out recent events, but they kept pushing through—images of James, of the airport, the security guard, and the letter from Nora.
Gage’s voice penetrated the silence, this time soft but no less powerful, as if conscious he was settling a frightened rabbit. “You must relax, Brydie. Still your thoughts. Open your mind.”
I frowned, trying with everything I had to push the images away. Taking a deep breath, I called on the techniques I’d learned from Nora, then exhaled on a long sigh of sound, pushing all the distracting thoughts aside.
As the last vestiges of breath left my mouth, I felt it—a minuscule ripple of awareness, so slight that it seemed I had almost imagined it. I repeated the process, taking yet another breath, concentrating on that small spark. Gage and our surroundings faded to nothing, and I felt it again, this time a flicker of intense energy. I concentrated on that ripple with all my being, and an imperceptible taste bloomed on my tongue. It wasn’t until I swallowed that I discerned the faintest residue of woodsmoke and forged steel.
It felt like him. It smelt like him.
Gage.
My eyes flew open, immediately capturing his piercing cerulean eyes. He must have seen it on my face, for there was a glitter of understanding in his depths. “You felt it.”
I nodded, cognizant of how dangerous he looked—like a predator observing its prey. He had an unrefined edge as if he stood half in the realm of beasts and half in the realm of man. I shook my head at the fancy, shifting my gaze away lest he catch a glimpse of what was there.
“I can smell woodsmoke and steel. But it was more than the scent; it was a feeling—an image,” I stumbled. “As if I stood next to a burning forge as someone honed steel.”
The tension left his face, and a glint of what appeared like approval gleamed from his eyes. “Very good.”
“That smell—is that your signature?” I questioned, wondering if he would taste like that if I kissed him. The thought shocked me, slamming through my defenses, and I fumbled out another question, hiding the truth of it. “And every time you use magic, can others trace it?”
“Yes. All Druids use the energy in the natural world around us. We have an affinity for one or a number of them. And when we use that energy, we leave a signature. That signature is only discerned by other magic wielders. It’s almost imperceptible, but if you look for it, it’s there.”
“For how long?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes minutes, sometimes days. It all depends on how much energy you use. In my case, what happened here tonight will take a few days to fade.” His gaze turned cold and distant, and his next words were clipped. “Anyone who has come across my signature before will recognize that I was here.”
My heart stuttered. “That means Talorgan will know!”
He nodded. “Of course, but there’s no point hiding it. He knew you’d left New Zealand, knew that you came to Scotland. The security guard confirmed that for him at the airport. And she would have been acting on his orders to plant the bomb on your suitcase and follow us.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. He was right. I was also beginning to understand the pressure he carried, constantly trying to protect me, always one step ahead of an immortal bent on killing me. “How long will it take to awaken my magic?”
Gage cocked his head to the side, considering me closely. “That depends on you.” His eyes were unreadable. “But before we even start, we need to get you to the Estate. It’s the only safe place we have, heavily warded so Talorgan can’t enter. Our biggest problem will be getting you there and the longer we stay here, the higher the risk.” He paused then, glancing swiftly to the right, eyes locking on the road as it whispered into the mist. “Thankfully, though, our ride is here.”
I followed his gaze, wondering at what he could see that I couldn’t. Seconds later, I caught the faint sound of an engine. Before I could question his sight and hearing, he grabbed my arm and hauled me into the dense forest, deep into the shadows.
“Crouch low. Stay here and don’t move,” he ordered sharply into my ear. “It feels like Ian, but I won’t be sure until I see him.”
Before I could reply, he’d turned and strode away to stand some ten meters away.
The car approached, the noise of the engine intrusive in the complete stillness of the night air. Gage stood by the road, one hand raised. The vehicle erupted from the mist and immediately slowed, pulling over a few meters from where he stood.
From my vantage point, I could see it was an old Range Rover, paint peeling off in places. I crouched even lower behind the expanse of trees around me and tried to quiet my breathing. A tall figure emerged from the driver’s side. He left the car still running. With the glow of the headlights, I could discern he had long brown hair. It flopped over his forehead, grazing the top of his glasses. He moved without hesitation toward Gage, clapping him on the back in a one-armed hug.
The movement surprised me, mainly because Gage accepted it.
“Gage.” The man’s voice was low and easy. He stood at least a foot taller than Gage, his body lanky and slim.
“Ian,” Gage said in his clipped voice, but there was an undertone to it, something I hadn’t heard before.
Ian looked about, on either side of the road. “Where is she?”
At his lack of response, Ian’s eyes drifted back to Gage’s face. “You need to test me, don’t you?” he asked resignedly.
Gage nodded, his voice brooking no argument. “You know the deal, Ian.”
Without hesitation, Ian lifted his arm. “Sure, man, I understand.”
I watched as Gage reached out and grasped Ian’s forearm. A soft glow emanated from the contact and I swallowed my reflective gasp as I glanced at Ian. He was tense, his face twisted in a grimace. Whatever Gage was doing, it wasn’t pleasant.
Seconds later, Gage released him and stepped back, jerking his head over his shoulder. “She’s this way.”
Ian didn’t hesitate to fall beside Gage, his long legs easily keeping pace. I refused to meet them cowering in the trees, so I stepped out and came toward them, my hand out in greeting.
“Hi, I’m Brydie.”
Ian stopped in front of me, an easy smile on his lips. There was genuine warmth there, nothing hidden. He didn’t hesitate to take my hand firmly in his, squeezing it warmly. “My name’s Ian. I understand you’ve had it a bit rough since arriving in Scotland.”
Gage stood a foot away, still and silent as he faced the road, eyes searching for threats. He seemed content to let Ian do the talking.
I squeezed Ian’s hand back in greeting, not at all threatened by his presence. His scent was subtle, like freshly polished wood. “If you call being kidnapped, shot at, and a bomb going off, then yes, it hasn’t been the best introduction.”
Ian’s lips turned up even more. “Well, that’s a shame Scotland hasn’t given you a warm welcome. I will do my best to rectify that.” He flicked a glance in Gage’s direction, as he added, “Gage tells me you need a place to stay for the night.”
“It’s safer to be unpredictable,” Gage broke in. “I thought we could stay at yours. Talorgan will expect us to go to the safest place tonight, and I guarantee he’ll have someone waiting for us on the road to the Estate. I don’t want a repeat of what’s just happened. We’ll only grab a few hours shut-eye, and some supplies before heading out tomorrow.”