Winter Solstice: An Immortal Highlander Novella (Druid Series) by Mandy M. Roth

Chapter
One
    The night
air was bitter but the fresh blood pumping through Gordon O’Caha’s body warmed
him. His cheeks were even slightly flushed—something that didn’t happen often.
The man he’d fed from had been fat and jolly, stuffed in a Father Christmas
suit and wreaking of whiskey. A second glance back at his “dinner” showed him
the man was still slumped in the darkened alleyway. The man was propped
haphazardly against an old building. Exactly where he’d left him after feeding
from him.
    Gordon
adjusted the collar of his long, black leather coat and slipped on his gloves.
He smoothed the front of his black Prada dress shirt. It matched his slacks. He
had a thing for all black and cared not what others thought on the matter. He
also had a taste for the finer things in life.
    Freshly
fallen snow crunched beneath his designer dress shoes as he stepped out from
the alley. He worried not about his tracks. They’d never be linked to him.  
    The sounds
of Christmas music, playing from loud speakers, carefully hidden away on lamp
posts with wreaths, filled the air. With only a few days left until Christmas,
the streets were busier than normal for this time of night. Last minute
shoppers weaved paths past one another, each too absorbed in their own personal
matters to notice that of any others.
    A
policeman stood waving several older women across the street. Gordon stared at
the man, willing him to look in his direction. The man did. Once eye
contact was made, Gordon simply drew upon the gifts of his kind, using nothing
more than his mind, to instruct the man on how best to handle the situation of
the drunken man in the alley.
    The
policeman would call for help. It would arrive. The drunken man would sober up
in the hospital with a warm bed and food in his stomach. No one would remember
the presence of the mysterious man—Gordon—because he simply willed it so. With
a mix of ancient druid magik and the power of the blood drinkers running
through him, he was a force to be reckoned with. None could deny him that much.
    “Och, it’s
almost too easy,” he muttered, partially under his breath as he strolled out
and onto the busy sidewalk. Life lacked surprise anymore, not that what he did
counted as living. He existed. Plain and simple. And this was his night. Yule.
The longest night of the year. The day when the Celtic myths of old tell of the
Oak King killing his brother the Holly King. All Gordon was fully sure of anymore
was on this night he was afforded more darkness, allowing him greater freedoms.
    His cell
rang and he ignored it, already knowing who was calling. One of his cousins.
Probably Coyle. The O’Cahas were fiercely loyal to their family and they alone,
in the world of magiks, refused to abandon him to the darkness. After the
attack, they tried their best to get him to see reason—to return with them and
continue to fight the good fight, but he couldn’t. He was no longer a good man.
A full-blooded druid. Now he was tainted with the blood of demons.
    His phone
rang once more and he knew it was Coyle again. Coyle liked to try to reconnect
with him during the holidays. The Winter Solstice was a favorite of his
cousin’s.
    “I do nae
need family. I need no one,” Gordon said partially under his breath.  
    Something
slammed into Gordon and suddenly liquid fire ignited against his groin, drawing
with it a groan from him.
    “By
Dagda!” Blinking in surprise, he reached out quickly, catching hold of the
pixie before him. The woman, coming only to his mid chest, was tiny in his
arms. She wiggled, almost managing to break free of his barely there hold. Eyes
as green as the grass near the bog at the base of the land he played on as a
child stared up at him through a shroud of thick lashes. Long wisps of blonde,
unruly, curly hair fought to be free of the clips holding it up. There was a
bit of the old country in her. No doubt about it.
    The darker
side of him—the side that should be sated for weeks