My side pinched as I shifted in my seat, the bullet moving infinitesimally forward. I grimaced at the sharp bite of pain. My magic reserves had begun to replenish, thanks to some protein bars Ian had silently passed over to me. And now that Brydie was asleep, I could finally deal with it. I hadn’t wanted her concern; that was a line that couldn’t be crossed.
As Ian drove into the dark Scottish night, I placed my hand on my right side, directly under the bullet’s entry point. Gritting my teeth to hold back a curse, I sent a small, internal push, urging the bullet to exit by the path it had entered. Thankfully, due to its impact with the Corvette’s door, it hadn’t gone in too deep, missing all my vital organs. I gave a grunt as the bullet dropped into my hand. My flesh proceeded to knit together neatly. I gasped as the last of the wound sealed up, tasting the sharp tang of iron in my mouth.
Too soon; it had been too soon. Still, now we were with Ian, and almost at his warded apartment, I could lie low for a few hours and build up my strength.
“When are you going to tell her?” asked Ian, his voice low in the quiet of the cab.
“She doesn’t need to know,” I snapped.
His hands tensed on the wheel. “She’s Brydie’s best friend, Gage, the only person she has left from her old world.” Ian pulled his eyes off the road and glanced at me, his face set. “She’s going to find out sooner or later—wouldn’t it be best to tell her now?”
I growled. “Now isn’t the time, Ian!”
“Why not? You could lose her.”
“I’ll never lose her,” I said flatly. “The prophecy binds us together—forever.”
“Unless one of you dies,” Ian interjected. “But that’s not the point. The longer you hide Chloe’s identity from her, the bigger the shitstorm will be on the other side.”
I knew that, but I had no choice.
Chloe’s unveiling had been a surprise. I almost missed it; it was a move so insignificant that it could easily have been overlooked. I was watching them at the airport, noting how quiet Brydie was, how uncomfortable in large crowds. They shared an emotional goodbye before Brydie and Chloe’s parents left, heading back to their car. But for some reason, I lingered, watching as Chloe lined up for her security check. She bent down to fix the strap of her sandal. My eyes tracked the movement, and it was then that I’d glimpsed the tattoo on her right ankle. The symbols were achingly familiar, and I instantly understood what they’d meant.
The problem was, as I stared at that tattoo, I knew it was already too late. There was no way I could stop Chloe from boarding the plane without breaking my cover. Talorgan’s spies were everywhere. If he’d gotten wind of the fact that there was another descendant, he would have taken her.
I could manage Brydie; she came with limited baggage. But Chloe was another matter. She had family ties here; extraction would be difficult. Regardless, all that was beside the point when my priority was and always would be, the Daughter of Winter. It was ingrained in me to protect Cailleach’s descendant, even at the cost of losing another. Besides, there was still time, for once Brydie was sequestered at the Estate where Talorgan couldn’t touch her, I would then be able to bring Chloe in. As the fifth descendant, she was the last piece to the puzzle, and we needed her.
Telling Brydie now would be detrimental—having to explain why I’d let Chloe go, even more so. Brydie needed to trust me, and so far, I’d done a crap job of that, literally drugging and kidnapping her. I didn’t care; I’d taken the safe path and damn the consequences.
Brydie’s sole focus for the coming weeks would be on awakening her magic. Thereafter, it would be about building her strength and honing her abilities. The overall focus would be on the tasks she needed to overcome, deciphering the prophecy, and, most importantly, that final altercation with Talorgan. Worrying about what and where her best friend was, wasn’t going to facilitate that. If anything, it would hinder her progress. The best decision was to keep what I’d learned from Brydie—until I’d brought Chloe to the Estate.
“There’ll be no shitstorm,” I replied firmly to Ian, my voice brokering no argument. “Brydie will understand when the time comes. In the meantime, I’ve got McKenzie watching Chloe. She’ll know if Talorgan’s near. If there’s ever any question that Chloe comes under his radar, I’ll be there.”
Ian whistled through his teeth. “That’s a huge gamble. What if you can’t reach her in time?”
“What would you have had me do otherwise, Ian? Leave Brydie?” I snarled, my temper overcoming my good intentions to keep this discussion civil. He kept pushing, and my patience was wearing thin.
Ian made a non-committal answer, but I wasn’t done. “Do you think you can protect her in my absence?” I taunted him softly. “I made a choice, Ian: Brydie or Chloe. You can’t deny it was the right one.”
Ian blinked but didn’t say a word.
“Exactly,” I said softly.
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, the only sign I’d pissed him off. “Everyone knows you made the right choice, Gage, but there’s no excuse for not sharing the news with her. Think about Saul—keeping him in the dark hasn’t ended well.”
I lanced him with a hard stare and growled a warning. “Leave my son out of it!”
It was another loose end that I needed to address, and all because I’d trusted in Nora; that she would end the prophecy as she’d thought. Saul was already nine years old, and like Brydie, was ignorant as hell about the prophecy. I hadn’t wanted to burden my son with its heavy shadow, especially as we all believed Nora would end it, but that reason was now void given the events of the last few days. Saul had to be made aware of his legacy as soon as possible. Especially as he was almost ten, the age when we started to show Druidic tendencies.
“Fine,” Ian snapped, slamming a hand on the wheel. “But if you fuck this up, you’ll have all of us to answer to—and I’m not just talking about the descendants, I’m talking about our clan.”
“I don’t give a fuck about The Oaken Tree!” I snarled in response. “They denied their right to a say when they ignored our call for aid to bring Brydie in.”
“I was as angry as you were, Gage,” said Ian softly. “But they’re scared. You know they were only protecting their young. I know you don’t want to hear it, but if Saul were in their care, you would have made the same decision, regardless of whether it was their war or not.”
I gritted my teeth and looked away. Ian had me by the balls. Releasing a breath, I replied, “We’re Druids, Ian, every last one of us, whether we’re Dormant or not. When combined, we have enough power to ward off any evil. You know as well as I do; we need everyone’s support to win this war. The descendants alone are not enough. The Oaken Tree is our clan, and they’re expected to help, especially given their ancient tie to Cailleach. Every time they fail to support us, Talorgan’s confidence grows, and ours wanes.”
Ian sighed. “I’m not arguing with you on that, Gage, but the only way you’ll get their support is if you work with them, not against them.”
I didn’t respond. The truth was, I had no faith that The Oaken Tree would ever change their position. They’d stood on the sideline for too many generations to repent now.
As the vehicle ate up the miles, and the sky began to lighten, I again questioned if the descendants were prophecy or coincidence. Two of them were my closest friends, and all three of us were renegades—outcasts of the clan. Then there was Brydie and Chloe, both completely unaware of the legacy they’d inherited, but bonded by a close friendship. Was that chance? It didn’t feel like it; the odds were too high.