Spell of the Highlander

Page 52

He assessed her a long moment, then shrugged one powerful shoulder. “I’m a Druid, lass.”
“‘A Druid’?” She blinked. “You mean, as in one of those white-robe-wearing, mistletoe-loving guys that thought they could communicate with the otherworld by performing human sacrifices?” In her area of specialization, she was constantly encountering references to the mysterious, much-maligned priesthood. The famous Lindow Man, a late–Iron Age body found preserved in a Cheshire bog by peat cutters in 1984, evidenced signs of ritual murder and, with mistletoe pollen in his stomach, there’d been much speculation about his possible link with Druids.
He winced. “Ouch, is that how the world thinks of us now?”
“Pretty much. Are you telling me Druids were actually magicians of some kind? Like Merlin or something?”
He glanced guardedly around the parking lot. “Jessica, there’s magic all around you. People doona ken it because those who possess it take every precaution to conceal it. Magic has always been, and will always be.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So this Lucan guy is also a Druid?”
“He was once a Druid. He became a dark sorcerer.”
A week ago, she would have laughed herself silly at anyone who’d claimed such things existed. She would have asked them about lions and tigers and bears and ruby slippers with built-in teleportation devices. Now, resting her elbows on the wet roof of her car, propping her chin on her hands, she only sighed and said, “Okay, so what’s the difference?”
“A Druid is born with magic in his blood. A dark sorcerer’s magic is acquired via rigorous study and apprenticeship to black magycks, enhanced by rituals and spells. A Druid respects the innate nature of things and permits the universe its pattern. A dark sorcerer perverts the nature of things to his own aims, changing the universe’s pattern without thought to ramifications. A Druid seeks knowledge to heal and nurture. A sorcerer seeks dangerous alchemy to transform and control. A Druid-turned-dark-sorcerer is far more powerful than either a mere sorcerer or a mere Druid.”
“Well, if he’s a Druid-turned-dark-sorcerer and you’re just a Druid, and a Druid-turned-dark-sorcerer is so much more powerful, then just how do you plan to defeat—oh! Crimeny! Shit!”
Understanding belatedly dawning, she backpedaled away from him, butting up against the rain-slicked side of the car parked parallel to hers. “I can be so dense sometimes,” she breathed. “Because you’re one of the bad guys, too, aren’t you? You turned dark sorcerer, too, didn’t you? It’s the only way it makes sense.”
His whisky eyes narrowed. “Get in the car, Jessica,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. No way. I’m not done yet. You still haven’t told me about that commanding thing you do. When you tell people to do things, and they just do it—what is that, anyway?”
A muscle in his jaw worked and he regarded her a long, silent moment. Then, “‘Tis the Druid art of Voice. Some call it the Voice of Power.” He saw no need to tell her that others called it the Voice of Death, if the Druid was powerful enough. And he was. Though he’d not known he could kill with his tongue until it had been too late and he’d already killed with his tongue. “‘Tis a spell of compulsion, lass. Now get in the car. The storm worsens.”
As if to support his words, the rain chose that moment to turn into a steady, soaking drizzle and a boom of thunder crashed overhead.
But Jessi wasn’t going to let an inconvenient storm interrupt her now. She had a small storm of her own brewing. This compelling thing bothered her. A lot. “Can you make people do things they don’t want to do? Like bad things that would seriously go against their will? Are they even aware of it when you’re doing it to them? Do they remember when it’s over?” she demanded.
The muscle leapt in his jaw again. “Get in the car, Jessica. I’m trying to keep you alive,” he said coolly.
“What if I refuse?” she said just as coolly. “Will you force me into the car? Compel me into it? Now that I think about it, I’m surprised you haven’t already tried to use this Voice of yours on me. Why bother being nice to anyone when you could just command anything you want? Geez, you wouldn’t even have to seduce a woman, you could just order her to—” She broke off abruptly, eyes widening.
“Get. In. The. Car. Jessica.”
“Oh, God, you did try it on me,” she exclaimed. “You tried it the second I set you free. You tried to make me kiss you and show you my breasts. Didn’t you?”