The Dawnvel Druids, - [most inspirational books of all time TXT] 📗

Warren couldn’t handle the guilt. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been with Simone, instead of going out to take over Zander’s guard duty he might still be alive.

Or you’d be dead instead.

Good, it should’ve been me. He wouldn’t be missed like Zander was. Zander deserved to live much more than he did.

He’d stalked through the woods at the end of town for hours now, tracking Cairnath. The last of autumn’s leaves crunched beneath his trainers as he stomped through the undergrowth.

Before daylight came, the gargoyles would retreat beneath the earth, back into their dens, lest the sun’s light turn them to stone.

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Warren had hoped to find one of their dens before nightfall, to catch them unawares and slay them all even as they awoke.

He longed to take out his rage on them, ripping them apart with his magic. He had to release all the pent-up rage inside of him. He wished he wasn’t wired this way, but he couldn’t help it. It was either be angry at the world and everything in it or lose himself to sorrow.

But it wasn’t manly to show such emotions like pain or sadness. The time his dad caught him crying as a boy had been the last time he’d done so.

He’d managed to hold it all in since the morning Zander had been found. He had to be strong for the others. He and Simone had been amongst the first to find him, to see his body.

Niamh had already seemed to know something was wrong when he went to her room to tell her. Warren knew her best, aside from Zander, he thought it only right that the words come from him. She’d sat on her bed, staring at him blankly for an age. She’d refused to believe it at first, accusing him of playing a sick prank on her. She’d even called out Zander’s name, as if he was hiding somewhere in the house. Warren didn’t think Niamh had truly believed until the police came and she’d insisted they take her to see the body herself.

The rest of the clan were still in shock. Simone had cried silently on that first morning, but not since. Mo had broken down the day after whilst he was on the Xbox, playing the game he and Zan always used to play together. Lana and

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Dreg hadn’t shown much grief at all though, and Warren suspected it seemed to the others that he hadn’t either.

He’d been focused on revenge. He couldn’t get his head around it. Who, or what, could’ve killed Zander? And right in the middle of campus too. Had Zander not been able to call to any of them for help? And what could’ve killed him so quickly?

Zander had been his first real friend. The only person he’d been able to trust since his father had shattered Warren’s faith in anyone.

Warren almost wished it had been Cairnath, then at least he had someone to blame. Someone he could slaughter to give Zander justice. Yet he’d seen the body. The markings were clearly dark magic, not Cairnath bites or claw wounds.

“Esgando,” he muttered, holding his wand aloft and moving it from side to side like a metal detector. The tip glowed a dull yellow, but would flash gold if it detected life beneath the earth. It had glowed a few times already, but Warren had only disturbed a badger and a mole so far, not the monsters he wanted.

Fighting soothed him. He knew it was barbaric to admit, but he couldn’t deny it. Destroying evil things gave him a respite from all the dark thoughts that plagued him. From the memories of his childhood, the memories of what he’d caused.

He felt so guilty about his actions that night, the night Zander died. He’d just received bad news about his mother. He’d meant to keep it to himself, to bottle

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everything up like he always did, until he’d heard Simone crying in her room.

She’d just got off the phone with her dad and confided in him about her own problems. He found himself doing the same, and before he knew it, it was like he and Simone were together again. Like the good times. They’d kissed that night, for what seemed like hours. Zander could’ve been fighting for his life whilst they’d hooked up, oblivious to his peril.

Zander was on campus patrol for the first half of the night. Warren was supposed to take over from midnight till dawn. But he’d fallen asleep with Simone. By the time he’d awoke it was six in the morning. He and Simone had run outside after realising Zander had never returned home, and that’s when they heard the students start screaming.

Warren still hadn’t told Niamh that he was partly to blame. She’d never forgive him, or Simone. Part of him was furious with Simone too. He’d awoken by hearing her come back into her bedroom after taking a shower. She could’ve woken him sooner. Maybe an hour earlier was all he’d need to find Zander battling the Baynir and save him.

Warren had been sorely tempted to rage at Simone. To demand why she’d been awake so long without telling him, but he knew that would be awful of him to do. She felt an extreme amount of guilt too. He shouldn’t make it worse.

He usually made things worse.

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He tripped on a tree root and made to swear, but instead a howl of fury escaped his lips. Before he could stop himself, Warren snarled out a spell and blasted the root into a thousand fragments.

He stood over the destruction, chest heaving as he panted.

“What a waste of magic,” came a snide voice.

Warren whirled, seeing the Cairnath leaning on the tree behind him. He looked like a teenage boy, only with green hair and long, pointed ears.

Gargoyles seeped out from behind the trees around him, forming a wide circle.

Trapping him.

There was at least six, but there could be more of the monsters hiding in the branches above. He could almost feel their overpowering hunger for his blood, see it in their bottomless pits for eyes.

Despite being severely outnumbered, Warren grinned, pulling the dagger from his boot with relish and gripping his wand tighter. At last he had an outlet for his fury. He’d imagine every single one of them was Zander’s killer and make them pay.

A voice at the back of his mind told him to run instead of fight. There was far too many of them, he’d die. But a stronger voice spurred him on. Kill them all, or die trying.

“Any last words, druid.” The Cairnath spoke again, pushing himself off the tree and edging forward.

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“Yeah. Fuerno!” Warren replied with a spell, flinging a ball of flame from his wand. The fire struck the tree as the Cairnath ducked, causing an explosion of splinters. Warren leaped toward the fae before he could rise again, plunging his dagger into the monster’s chest. He crumbled into stone as Warren swivelled to face the others, a new spell on his lips.

Not only were there gargoyles on either side of him, but more gargs dropped down from the forest canopy above, like angels of death.

His wand flared with a second fire spell as Warren grit his teeth and raised his dagger once more. If he was to die tonight, he’d make sure to take these bastards with him.

*

“What the hell!” Bobby yelled, as the window exploded and four figures emerged. He jumped back, whilst the druids behind him snatched their wands free.

“Get behind me.” Simone seized his arm and dragged him behind her as a terrible, inhuman hissing filled the room.

Over Simone’s shoulder, Bobby saw that the intruders were three men led by a woman, Tarin. The group he’d seen earlier.

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She was tall and lithe and her eyes had no iris, only diamond shaped pupils surrounded by whiteness. The men behind her almost looked human, were it not for the grey hue of their skin.

Bobby could almost imagine Tarin’s abnormally white skin and that it was contacts that made her pupils like diamonds, but there was no way he could explain the forked tongue slithering out of her mouth, making that heinous rattling sound.

“Earth-suckers,” Tarin spat the word, her voice disturbingly similar to a normal woman. “Which one of you slew my brother tonight?”

“How did they get in?” Lana demanded. “Why didn’t our shield charm work?”

“Ah, jeez. My bad guys,” Mo winced. “I forgot to do it after Dreg disabled the charm last night.”

“Moron,” Lana cursed, her arms shaking with rage as much as fear as she held her wand ready.

Tarin took another step forward, as the three gargoyles remained by the window. Their long black nails looked sharp as knives.

“Your brother was on our territory,” Simone replied, “not only hunting humans but preparing to kill one. After catching him in the act, I killed him.”

Tarin’s eyes flashed with venom. “All creatures have to eat,” she snarled.

“We don’t complain about you druids draining the Earth dry for your spells.”

“Cairnath can live off animals,” Mo said, his wand pointed in their direction.

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“You humans don’t have to eat meat,” Tarin growled back. “Drinking from humans is a pleasure unparalleled. Animals can’t compare. My sire has claimed this land and proclaimed it a free feeding zone.” She grinned wide, showing a whole mouth full of twisted black fangs.

“Not whilst we’re here.” Simone stood firm.

“Then we’ll have to remove you.” Tarin turned to her gargoyles. “Kill them, but I get the one who slew my brother.”

Bobby wanted to scream in terror, but before he could do anything Tarin pounced on Simone, even as the three men leaped across the room.

Simone readied a spell but Tarin moved inhumanly fast, batting her wand away before trying to gouge Simone’s eyes out. Simone reeled back, before falling into a martial artist’s stance and swivel-kicking Tarin in the chest. The two women began countering one another’s vicious strikes as Bobby huddled behind the soda, praying Simone would win.

“Destraya,” Mo roared, throwing his hand out in a backhand swipe. Orange sparks flew from his wand, hitting a gargoyle in the chest and throwing him across the table.

Lana screamed out a second foreign word, this one causing a spout of flames to leave her wand and scorch the garg attacking her. The monster ducked Lana’s second fire spell, however, which hit the curtain beside the window instead.

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Bobby turned to see the fourth monster heading his way. Realising he needed to defend himself, he looked around desperately for a weapon, snatching an ash-tray from the coffee table.

“Where’s your wandie, friend?” The garg giggled as he advanced.

Bobby heard himself make a weird, panicked grunt as he threw the ash-tray at the monster’s head. The idiot didn’t even duck and the tray exploded across his forehead, opening up a grisly gash.