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“So if I take that staff,” Winter whispered, looking at the frail piece of wood he was holding,
“then I become a drùidh just like you?”
Daar frowned. “It’s not that simple, girl. Ye can take this now,” he said, holding it out to her again, “and nothing much will happen, other than ye’ll get a feel for its energy. It’s not until ye make the commitment in yer heart that yer come into yer full power.”
Very slowly, more scared than she’d ever been in her life, Winter reached out and took the small, pale white staff from him—as everyone in the room it seemed, including her, held their breath.
The moment her fingertips touched the wood, a gentle, almost imperceptible trickle of energy moved through her, causing the fine hairs on her body to stir. The muted hum began as a whisper when her hand closed over the staff, then rose to a pulsing vibration that echoed each pounding beat of her heart. Colorful tendrils of light appeared, dancing through the one-room cabin, engulfing everyone in a strobe of sizzling, blinding energy.
“Hold tight,” Daar called from a great distance. “Don’t be afraid, lass.’Tis only the magic welcoming ye. Embrace the knowledge, Winter, and feel its joy.”
She could feel it: the energy filled her, charging even her hair with static, making her reel with weightless freedom. Time stopped. All five of her senses sharpened. She could even taste the powerful colors, individually distinct, swirling around the room in pulsing waves that seemed to begin and end with her.
And then Winter felt something even more acute as she clutched the thin staff to her chest, something indescribable; a sort of sixth sense settled over her in a blanket of knowledge, so powerful that Winter thought she might explode with awareness.
She suddenly cried out as the force of the turbulent maelstrom became too much, and ran for the door. She grappled with the knob, finally got the door open and stumbled onto the porch, mindless to the frantic shouts behind her. She had to get out. She had to leave before she was consumed!
She ran down the steps and into the clearing, nearly tripping over Gesader when he suddenly appeared in front of her. “Help me,” she cried, groping for the fur of his back. “Please, help me.”
Blinded by tears and the swirling energy pulling at her, Winter clutched her pet’s fur as he led her stumbling up the overgrown trail. She had no idea how she did it without benefit of a stump, but the next thing Winter knew she was mounted on Snowball, leaning forward with her face buried in his mane, crying uncontrollably as her trusted friends took her away from the horror of Daar’s cabin.
Chapter Fourteen
“G et out of my way,” Greylen growled, preparing to move Robbie from the door if need be.
“Nay, Greylen,” Robbie said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Winter doesn’t need any of us right now. We’d only be filling her head with more questions. Trust me, Grey,” Robbie petitioned. “I had the same reaction she’s having when I came home from the army and my papa tried to explain my calling to me.” He smiled sadly. “I spent nearly a week alone in the forest before I was able to face anyone again, much less the man who had given me that calling.”
Grey gave Robbie a good glare, then spun to face Daar. “Ye lied, priest. Ye told Winter it was safe to hold the staff, but it nearly killed her!”
Daar held up his hands, backing away. “Nay, MacKeage, I didn’t lie. I just underestimated the strength of Winter’s gift. I didn’t know the staff would react so strongly.”
Grey felt Robbie’s hand return to his shoulder in a calming gesture, yet he didn’t turn to his nephew but continued to glare at the priest.
“She’ll be okay, Greylen,” Robbie said, moving around to his side. “She has Gesader to look out for her, and Mary will likely tag along in the shadows. Winter has a good head on her shoulders. She’
ll eventually reason things out, and then she’ll come back as mad as hell, demanding answers.”
“But there’s a storm coming,” Grace said, lifting fretful, tear-filled eyes to Robbie as she hugged herself. “They’re predicting snow. She can’t stay away for days in a snowstorm.”
Grey reached out and drew his wife to him, holding her head to his chest and absorbing her shivers. “Winter knows every nook and cra
“But ye must go after her,” Daar interjected. “Ye forgot about Gregor. Ye didn’t tell Winter she has to stop seeing him. Ye have to go after her and tell her now.”
It was Grace who spun around and took a step toward the priest, her fists balled at her sides.
“We are not telling her to stop seeing Matt,” she hissed. “She’s had enough bad news without realizing she has to spend the next two thousand years alone!”
“Gregor’s away on business,” Grey said, unable to stifle his smile as the old priest backed away from Winter’s formidable mama. “I believe he’s gone for a few days.”
It was Grey’s news and not Grace’s threatening stance that seemed to make Daar back off.
The priest sighed, walked over to the woodstove, and peered into the pan of soggy bacon. “My breakfast is ruined,” he muttered.
“So’s my daughter’s life!” Grace shot back, going to the pegs on the wall and taking down her jacket. “I want to leave now,” she said. “I have to go to the gallery and explain this to Megan.” Grey helped her slip into the jacket, then turned her to face him. “Megan will worry herself sick if she doesn’t hear from her sister,” Grace continued as she buttoned up her jacket. “She was likely in on Winter’s spying this morning.”
Grey moved her hands out of the way and buttoned the last two buttons, holding her collar in his fists as he pulled her forward to kiss her frowning forehead. “I’ll go with ye to see Megan,” he said before looking at Robbie and nodding. “Thank ye, MacBain, for being the voice of reason this morning.
We’ll try our damnedest to give Winter the time she needs.”
Robbie nodded. “If she’s not back in a few days, I’ll help ye go get her.”
Grey took his own jacket down from the peg, shrugged into it, and pointed at Daar. “Ye leave her alone, priest. She’ll come to ye when she’s done cursing ye out. Then she’ll probably plague ye with questions.” He gri
Daar had his hands clasped to his chest, standing in front of the woodstove, smiling quite smugly. “I just realized something,” he said, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “For as distraught as Winter was when she left here, I notice she took her staff.”
Unable to do more than simply hold on to her horse’s mane as violent sobs wracked her body, Winter didn’t know and didn’t care where Gesader was leading Snowball. A raw northeast wind blew down from the summit, ripping what few leaves remained from the trees as it raked through the denuded branches with an eerie, ominous moan. Winter was oblivious to the building storm as she fought the emotional maelstrom howling inside her.
How could this be happening? How could her parents have kept such a terrible secret from her for twenty-four years? And Robbie. How could her cousin have betrayed her so wretchedly?
But even more horrifying, why her? Why had she been cursed with such an unimaginable destiny? She was nothing more than a dot of paint on a three-story-tall mural, not even significant enough to warrant a complete brushstroke. One human being in billions, and her parents dared to tell her the fate of the world lay in her hands?