Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Acolyte training,” Kierse repeated slowly. “Is that what Ethan is doing?”
“Yes. It takes years of rigorous work to become a full Druid.” He shot her an easy smile. “Luckily, we are long-lived, as are wisps. So we have the time.”
“And that’s why no one has heard from him since I left?”
“Ah, most Druids grow up in the Order. We don’t get many from outside. But the first line of training is removing attachments to the physical world.”
Kierse narrowed her eyes. “You mean brainwashing them into good little soldiers.”
“If that is what you want to believe. The Druidic Order is a lifelong commitment. We focus on a large swath of knowledge—nature, the elements, astronomy, philosophy, rituals, spells, justice.” His eyes cut to her once before he added, “The changing of the seasons.”
“And fighting.”
“We strengthen the body through martial arts and weaponry,” he agreed. “How can you mete out justice if you cannot enforce it?”
Kierse didn’t think he had any right to enforce anything, personally. But he had kept Brooklyn in better shape than Manhattan, so perhaps some of their discipline made sense.
“Where do the High Priestesses fit into this?”
“Thinking of your friend, Genesis?”
Always. A part of her wondered if Gen should have taken the same deal Ethan had, but Kierse hadn’t wanted to lose her. Was she now five months behind on her own training? Could she have done more here?
When she said nothing, he continued, “The High Priestesses have their own development. They also train physically and in rituals and spells, but their focus is on the healing arts. It is more a subsect of the Druidic work. There are all genders of Druids, but only female High Priestesses.”
“There are no men or nonbinary people with an affinity for healing?”
“There are,” Lorcan conceded. “It’s just a different alignment. Different training.”
Kierse made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. They reached the end of the corridor, revealing a massive vault door. It was the width of three people standing shoulder to shoulder with reinforced steel across the sides. If Kierse had to guess, she bet it was several feet thick. A feat of modern ingenuity—not something she would have expected to find in a building built in the 1800s.
“Oh yes, and there’s this,” Lorcan said, gesturing to the door.
“You let all your acolytes walk past your vault?” Kierse asked. “Isn’t it a security risk?”
“It’s warded.” His eyes slid over her. “Not that that affects you, of course, but I would hope the five feet of solid steel would keep you out.”
“You’d be wrong,” she said with no bravado. She could break that vault, and she wouldn’t even need a drill to do it.
“Well, there’s security on it day and night. Just in case you want to try.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
“I would so like to watch you work,” he teased.
She huffed. It was too easy. He probably didn’t even keep the sword in there. Not that she had any reason to steal it from him. That was certainly not part of her deal with Graves. He’d lost it fair and square to Lorcan. He’d have to figure out how to get it back himself.
“This way,” Lorcan said with a sly smile.
They came to another bank of elevators and took one up until it opened to a central atrium. Kierse’s breath caught at the sight. The interior was massive, with forty-foot arched doorways that looked more like they belonged in Versailles, not Brooklyn. It had a high domed ceiling with a kaleidoscope mural in blues, orchids, and pastel pinks. Much of the original glass windows, chandelier lighting, and antique craftsmanship had been restored. The cashier and clerks’ offices shone in gold against one side of the room, in front of the original intercom system and the historic vault Kierse had been expecting for a building of this age. The walls were marble and the floors a reconstructed mosaic in glossy cream, gold, and white.
At the center of the atrium stood a loose circle of acolytes in brown robes, watching a man and a woman face off. An instructor, a Druid in his fifties wearing green robes belted at the waist and loose pants, was giving instruction.
“Begin,” he said.
Lorcan nodded at the fight as the pair launched at each other. “This was what you wanted, right?”
Kierse furrowed her brow as she homed in on the pair. The woman was short, at least a head below Kierse, with a cropped blond bob that swung as she moved like liquid. Her opponent was roughly Kierse’s height with skin the color of an old sepia photo and close-shorn dark hair. He was built like an ox, with corded arms and broad shoulders. His back was to her, but the second she watched him move, she cried out. “Ethan?”
At the sound of his name, her best friend turned. Their eyes locked, and his widened in shock. His soft face had become angular. His black coils were cut from his head. Where he’d been all lanky knees and elbows, he’d filled out with hardened muscle. The prominent scar that ran down one side of his face was the only thing that didn’t seem to have changed. Her soft-hearted friend who wore his heart on his sleeve had been replaced by this huge man.