Chronicles of an Urban Druid

When a back-alley brawl leaves me marked with a bizarre Celtic crest on my back, I become a beacon for all things whacked and weird. My dad is obviously freaked when he sees the tat, but he won't discuss it. So, I do what any stubborn redheaded lass would - I ignore all advice and fly to the Emerald Isle to get answers. And yeah...you know that saying about hindsight being 20/20? True story.

My outlook on life isn't complicated - any day that passes when nobody tries to kill me or someone I love gets put into the "good day" column. Simple, right? Lately, good days have been hard to come by. Since I totally ignored Da's warning three months ago and flew to Ireland to embrace our super-secret heritage, I've seen the world in a different light - a mythical and magical light. I am a Druid.

Since being marked as the heir apparent, I've been stabbed, kidnapped, black-listed, tortured, targeted, and accused of being the cause of pretty much every magical mishap that's hit the streets of Toronto. To some, I'm a nuisance, to others a curiosity, and others still - a problem to be eliminated. Whatevs, haters gotta hate.

Growing up with five older brothers taught me how to take a hit. Lucky for me because the hits I take as a druid make me yearn for the good old days of sucker punches, rope burn, and steamroller.

Assuming my role as the druid representative for the Lakeshore Guild of Empowered Ones is both an honor and a curse. It puts me in a position to make important changes in a flawed system but also puts me in the crosshairs of a lot of powerful people.

On a good day, wearing the Fianna mark tosses me into topsy-turvy trials. It's a scramble but I manage to hold it together with the help of amazing family and friends: mythical, magical, and mortal. But despite best-laid plans, collateral damage occurs.

The moment you let your guard down and think you've got a handle on life—you jinx it. I bust my butt on the daily, smoothing the rough edges after moving in with the boyfriend, making amends to angry empowered ones, and patching things up with hostile in-laws. Things are good on the home front with my job, family, and friends. I've got this, right? Wrong. Cue the centrifuge of life spinning me around while the gods point and laugh. Or, in this case, the goddess. Hecate, Goddess of Witchcraft and Magic, deity of night and ghosts, supreme tormentor of friends.

The focus of my life as an urban druid is to stand as a guardian of nature. The focus of my life as Fiona Cumhaill to stand as a guardian of my family. Seriously. Don't screw with my family. It's a no-brainer, drop everything, and take up the fight topic for me—If you need me, I will come. So, when darkness conspires to overtake the light and people I love are sucked into the wake of evil, the Toronto crew grabs the go-bags and answers the call.

When Garnet brings Team Trouble in to investigate a string of discarded bodies, none of us likes where the evidence points. My Spidey-sense says something isn't right. In the human realm, the evidence doesn't lie. In the empowered realm . . . nothing is as it seems.

Life is a balance—at least that's what I'm told by people smarter than me. Try as I might to spend quality time with Sloan, family, friends, and companion animals, my magnet of mayhem often has other ideas. Adulting is hard. So when I move an adolescent dragon into my backyard, why don't I anticipate the craziness that will ensue? Maybe Sloan's right and I am ridiculous. I like to think I'm an optimist. Either way, it takes a group effort to figure out the mess we find ourselves in and what to do about it.

We all make mistakes, but for most of us we die and they're forgotten—not so if you're immortal. For gods and immortals, grudges live forever. One moment of poor judgment, a lack of understanding, or simply being oblivious to what's going on around you can elevate you to the top of someone's to-do list. Be careful who you piss off. Amid murder, ex-lovers, jewel heists, and much, much wine, the Cumhaill fam jam stays the course of fighting the good fight and standing behind our friends. Ni neart go cur le cheile . . . There is strength in unity.

In life, you start off and get what you get—that's fate. Then you grab the reins and steer your path—that's free will. Fate versus free will . . . it's mind bendy. But what if you want to change your stars? When a gathering of reapers descends on Toronto, and a mass-death is pending, Clan Cumhaill fights through kidnappings, betrayal, and death to discover what will cause the disaster. Is it a vampire war, the theft of a powerful artifact, or an empowered icon gone rogue? There's no way to know until the danger unfolds.

The Culling draws ever nearer—looms really—like a big, fat cloud of doom. With evil brewing, our enemies grow bolder, the warriors of light and dark scramble to be ready for the Winter Solstice, and the Cumhaill fam jam digs in to face the battle of our world's alignment. No biggie . . . Team Trouble is on it. For now, the human populations remain oblivious to the imminent battle to come. If we continue to do our jobs right, it'll stay that way. What you don't know won't hurt you, amirite?

The world is about to tilt on its axis. Good versus Evil. Light versus Dark. There's a balance to the world's alignment and every thousand years the Earth Realm, the Fae Realm, and the Spirit Realm collide, igniting a period of rebalancing. And while the empowered sects battle for a stronger foothold and fight to find ways to strengthen their forces, the humans go on living blissfully unaware. Which is good. Blissful ignorance is exactly where we want them to be . . . Well, some of us, anyway. As the volatility rises, the aggressive races protest.

It is the Time of the Colliding Realms—the Keening—the Culling. Everything that happened over the past eighteen months has led to this moment. The good and the bad. The triumphs and the tragedies. Now my family by blood, by choice, and by circumstance face the battle to balance our world's alignment.