Chapter 37

Quinn was thinking about the concept of home as he drove Anna and Niamh to the Keeper’s house. Home was a word that had outsized importance to an orphan and the Mr. MacLeish’s place was home like it or not, despite his attempts to deny it. He half-listened to Anna and Niamh talk as he pulled his truck onto the road that lead up to the house.

“It’s strange that everything ends with that House. Ultimately, it’s the symbol of the Keeper. It’s long been a mystery to the covens. I’d bet it wasn’t the old man who chose you as much as it was the house.”

“Mr. MacLeish told me that the house was built by old Finn’s grandfather one hundred and fifty years ago. The cabin was the latest in a series of dwellings on the site that stretched back to the melting of the Puget Sound Ice Sheet. Its foundation is laid half in and half out of Opari, making it a Tardis—larger inside than outside.

He stopped his lecture when they spotted the Druid. He sat on the top step of the big wrap-around porch, gazing down at the river. Katrinka sat in front of him, one step down between his knees. She was obviously spellbound. She sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead. The druid held a wooden wand to her throat. Quinn’s runes throbbed as they picked up on the power than swirled around it.

The Hag stood behind him. Rocking side-to-side, crooning, and muttering to herself.

Sweet mother, she is far gone.

The door to the cabin was wide open. Obviously, he had had time to go through the place to find whatever he was looking for.

Quinn got out of the truck and walked up to the porch.

“I assume you are the one the Leprechaun called the Druid,” he said mildly “Why are you on my property?”

“I’ve been looking for a particular item for over five hundred years, boy. It’s a book of sorts, a scroll. The author was a defrocked priest who believed in the old Gods, so he wrote a spell in blood on the tanned skin of the first lamb of spring. The scroll is stored in a sleeve of white silk.”

The man put his hand on top of the little girl’s head.

“My bargain for you is this. Find it for me and I will only kill you. These others may go free. This girl has served her purpose and gained me entry, but unfortunately, the house hides its treasures. It’s a blessing that all my attempts to kill you failed.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” Quinn said. “That doesn’t sound like much of a deal.”

The druid waved the wand and a wall of pain crashed through Quinn, driving him to his knees.

“I know all about those protections the trolls gifted you, boy. They are useless against the old magic. Loose that symbiote you carry and I will cut the girl’s throat.”

Quinn shakily got to his feet, mind racing for an opening.

:Nimah, you and Anna circle around behind him. When you get a chance, grab the girl and take shelter in the house. Don’t come out till I come get you.

“Why do you want the book, Druid?”

“It’s a key to life. It takes an iron will to live as long as I have, boy. The things I’ve had to do to stay alive would sicken you, but they were a necessary. The book will give me a spell that will free me from the risk of taking a soul for my renewal every fifty years. I will have that peace of mind. Stop delaying, or this girl will suffer pain you cannot imagine.

Quinn watched the Hag as she paced in circles clockwise then counterclockwise on the porch behind the druid muttering and chanting.

The drone of her voice must have irritated him because he shouted, “For God’s sake, woman. Would you be quiet.”

She ignored him. Her muttering grew more strident.

:Quinn, Anna says that she’s moving deosil and widdershins. The Hag is spellcasting.

Quinn smiled suddenly.

“Tend to your associate, Druid. She calls.”

“What are you talking about, boy?” He turned and looked at the witch who had slashed her palm with a small black knife. She fetched a coin out of her pocket and placed a round coin in the blood.

The Druid’s eyes grew round. “Why do you have that token? I told you to give it to the assassin,” he shrieked. “Stop that right now.”

“Oh Sweet Mother, the power. I love the power,” her voice was shrilly ecstatic. “All the lovely, lovely power.”