Blood Faerie - Contemporary Urban Fantasy (Caledonia Fae, Book 1) Page 10

  These thoughts disappeared when Imire walked up the path and she saw him for the first time in twenty-five years. She stood and approached him, taking in everything about his appearance. He wore the dark green robes he’d always favoured, but his frame was thinner and his face more drawn. His hair had gone from brilliant white to a dull grey, and his skin had lost its sheen.

  The change shocked Eilidh. Imire was not yet seven hundred, and yet he looked like he approached his second millennium. It was because of her and her warped magical talents, because of her crimes and exile. If he’d let her be executed, it would at least have been over. Instead, he sacrificed his prime for her.

  Without a word, Eilidh rushed to him, embracing him tightly as cool tears ran rivulets down her cheeks. “Father,” she said. “You came.”

  He coughed his surprise and chuckled. “It’s good to see you too, Eilidh. I was astonished to learn you stayed nearby.” He wistfully added, “All this time. I’d imagined you were far away, maybe even over the seas.”

  As a child, she’d heard stories from fae who travelled. She’d learned there were many kingdoms throughout the world, all connected through the Otherworld, but each with a different earthly presence. Not once had she thought to seek out those other kingdoms. She opened her mouth to explain why she hadn’t left, but now she wasn’t sure. How could she say that she’d stayed simply because she hadn’t gone? Here, she knew the dangers, the likely places of influence, where she could safely hunt, where to find water and shelter. The population of humans was small, the air clean, the water pure.

  Finally, Imire released her and held her at arm’s length. “You look tired, daughter.” He glanced over her clothes and her new black knitted cap, which covered her ears and her white hair.

  She didn’t acknowledge his true meaning. Instead, she said, “The blood faerie has killed again. This time he failed to preserve the heart. I encountered him last night.” She gestured to the stone table, and they sat together. “Father, he is so strong. He is practiced in the Path of the Azure, and I cannot defeat him alone.”

  “Why do you feel it necessary to defeat him? Is he your enemy? Has he harmed you?”

  Eilidh blinked. “He has killed two already. There may be others I do not know of. I only know of these deaths because they happened in my city.”

  “Your city?” Imire smiled. “They were human deaths. Tragic, perhaps, and grotesque, certainly, but what are they to you?”

  The pleasure at seeing her father faltered, and she stared at his aging face in disbelief. “I am their Watcher,” she said finally. “They have no other.”

  “Do they know you exist?”

  Had he called her here just to tell her humans were not worth saving? He, who had possibly never spoken to a human? “Evil must be challenged, Father.” She turned back to the city. She knew that many fae would consider her evil, for the mere fact that she’d been born with a talent for the Path of the Azure, an addictive, powerful, and manipulative magic. But she didn’t think her father was one of those.

  He clasped his hand over hers. He may have aged, but he still held power. “Yes, it must.” A smile spread across his face, and she could tell it was an unaccustomed expression. “There are so many things I wish I could have taught you. I did my best, but I just didn’t have enough time.”

  “I’m sorry, Father.” The tears threatened to fall again. “For all of it.”

  “My child, the fault is not yours, but mine. It is only my own pride and fear of losing even this one precious moment that I do not confess to you how deeply my guilt runs.”

  He had known. The thought froze Eilidh in place. When? All her life? From before she was born? As she opened her mouth to ask the hundred questions that flooded her mind, he said, “I can do a small thing, perhaps, to make up for it. I do not pretend to think it will compensate for all, but perhaps it will ease your pain somewhat.”

  A cool breeze dried the tears on her cheeks. She hadn’t even heard him call the wind.

  “I have travelled far, these past decades, searching for some clue that would be of help to you. I spoke to every faerie who would listen, in the Otherworld and the three kingdoms of Europe.”

  Eilidh hesitated. Her father travelled? She had never known him to leave his study out of choice, much less the kingdom.

  “The fae laugh easily and avoid the darkness. It occurred to me that we are a frivolous people. I have always loved my books and I never thought too closely on the subject. Until you left, I didn’t see the truth. But we are shallow and vain, Eilidh. Shallow and vain.” He sighed.

  “What did you seek?”

  “Peace, I suppose. Forgiveness? A way to make restitution.”

  Eilidh smiled at the familiar, wandering patterns of her father’s thoughts. “And what did you find?”

  “In the past millennium, seventy-five faeries have been executed or exiled from the three kingdoms of Europe. Sixty-one for following the Path of the Azure. Fifty are dead.” His voice caught. “Fifty,” he repeated.

  Eilidh understood his pain at voicing the number. Faerie children were rare, and their numbers dwindled as the human influence grew. More and more didn’t even want to enter the human realm, but it was only through the human realm the fae had the power to reproduce. Children were a gift from the Great Mother of the Earth. Fae who remained in the Otherworld would live much longer, but remain childless forever. To lose fifty fae children, even over so long a span, seemed unthinkable.

  “Of the eleven others,” he said, breaking the thoughtful silence, “one is, of course, you. Of the other ten, I heard many rumours, and it’s difficult to sift fact from myth.” He gave Eilidh a smile that begged indulgence. “You know how we fae like our stories and legends.” Usually, those legends found their way into epic poems, chants, or songs. Eilidh doubted very much anyone would ever sing songs about her.

  Continuing, he said, “But one story kept coming up. A story of three faeries, cast out in the early days of the Magical Amendment. The details change…their names, their ages, their crimes, but one place is mentioned in nearly every story: Eilean a’ Cheò.”

  “The Isle of Skye? Why did you search for this information for so long, and why are you telling me about this now? Do you think they could help me fight against this dark faerie?” She considered. It would be invaluable to have three more fae by her side—and elder fae at that.

  “That I do not know.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because they can do what I never could. They can teach you. Unless you develop your power, you have no hope of stopping the evil this blood faerie brings to your city.” Imire squeezed her hand again. “If it were not for the edict forbidding any from aiding you in your quest, I would be tempted to fight him myself.”

  “The conclave made an edict?”

  He nodded, and a flash of anger marred his face. “They are fools. They actually believe you are trying to draw us out of the protection of the kingdom lands.”

  “What? Why would I do that?”

  Imire shrugged. “Revenge, perhaps? They have grown brittle in their minds.” He paused. “I would fight, but the edict is not the only reason. And not all of them are fools. Some believe you mean well and think the dark faerie should be watched. I hope to work with them, to educate them of the things I have learned in my travels. But if I went against the will of the conclave, their hearts would be hardened against you, and our people would suffer in ignorance.”

  “I understand.” In truth, hearing his explanation did make her feel better. She didn’t hold out hope that the conclave would change its mind, but it was good to know not all thought her an evil monster.

  “I have asked Saor to go with you.” Imire gestured toward the trees, and Saor stepped forward. He bowed respectfully to Imire and gave Eilidh a formal nod.

  “To Skye? But what about the edict?”

  Saor spread his hands and gave an innocent smile. “There is no edict saying I cannot travel, only that I cannot investig
ate directly the claims you have made about the blood shadows. If we happen to travel in the same direction, who can say it is anything but coincidence? I have been tied to the borders and my duties as a Watcher for a long time. Many have urged me to go on a retreat. What better place than one known to hold so many stones for communion with the Mother?”

  “Few know of the stories I have told you about, Eilidh. Saor will be safe from recriminations.”

  “Why do you think I need an escort? I was a Watcher myself. I still am, of a sort. I am no longer a child.”

  “Indulge me? Just this one last time?”

  Eilidh glanced at Saor, who watched impassively, then into her father’s eyes. “Of course, Father. I owe you at least that. You gave me life and then saved it, even though it cost you much.”

  Imire stood and looked at the stars. “The night is waning.”

  Eilidh nodded. When the sun rose, the kingdom influence would retreat from this place, and her father would lose the magic and protection of the Otherworld. But an idea struck her, and she couldn’t lose this chance to ask him a question that pressed in her mind. “Have you ever encountered a human with power?”

  He stopped and peered at her. “What sort of power?” His eyebrows narrowed and his expression became serious.

  “Affinity with the Ways of Earth. The power to shape stone with his hands, to speak through stone.” Her eyes flicked to Saor, who also had begun to pay rapt attention.

  “Can he speak the incantation? Does he see the flows?” Imire’s voice grew excited, the way it did when he discovered a scroll everyone thought had been lost.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is this the one you’ve grown so close to?” Saor asked. He couldn’t keep the disgusted sneer from his voice.

  Annoyance grew in Eilidh. “He is a friend. The only friend I have,” she said coldly.

  Imire didn’t acknowledge the tension between Saor and Eilidh. His eyes darted back and forth as though he was reading something in his head. “A true druid? Could it be?” he muttered. His eyes came into focus and he gripped Eilidh’s hand firmly, pulling her close to him. “Can you bring him to me?”

  “Perhaps. I’ll ask him. I’m not certain how he would feel about it. He still seems confused, but I know he has the affinity.”

  “You must bind him to you,” Imire said. “That’s the only way.”

  “Bind him? The only way for what?” Eilidh grew more concerned at the feverish excitement on her father’s face.

  “Go to Skye. They’ll teach you how.”

  “Teach me how to what?”

  Imire seemed to have regained his composure somewhat and he paused and straightened, patting her hand gently. “Go to Skye. I cannot teach you this. It’s in the Path of the Azure.”

  Eilidh nodded, but for some reason she didn’t trust the gleam in her father’s eyes. Bind Quinton? Whatever her father wanted her to do, she had to tread carefully. But if it would hold answers for herself and for Quinton, she must indeed go to Skye. She only hoped she would not be gone long and that the blood faerie would not kill while she was away.

  Chapter 11

  Munro felt Eilidh’s presence long before he pulled into the drive. It didn’t compel him the way it had when he’d been so feverish. Feeling her presence was like closing his eyes and being able to tell where the sun was in the sky. She was a warmth in his mind. He found that he knew where she went throughout the day, at least in which direction. He often wondered how far away she was and why she travelled from one place to another. Was she investigating the deaths, or did she have other friends and other things to do? He knew so little about her. When he parked his car, he wasn’t surprised to feel her inside his house, but he did wonder why and how she’d gotten inside.

  He didn’t become wary until he heard her voice and realised she hadn’t come alone. “See,” she was saying. “You have to wait a moment for it to happen, but the red dot water becomes hot. Feel it. They don’t even have to call fire.” Munro could hear the kitchen taps being turned on and off repeatedly. Then someone opened the refrigerator. “And it stays cold in here all the time. So meats don’t spoil as quickly.”

  A man’s voice answered, “That’s ridiculous. Why don’t they just smoke their meat?”

  “Maybe they don’t like smoked meat? But look at that. That’s milk.”

  “Cold milk? How could you drink it cold?”

  “I think they heat it up in this heating machine first.”

  “But if they just got it straight from the goat, they wouldn’t have to make it cold and then make it hot later. It’s a waste of time. I never realised what a burden all of these machines would be.”

  Munro stood in the doorway, watching the two faeries peer into his fridge as though it was the strangest thing they’d ever seen. He didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed that they’d broken in. “Eilidh?” he said finally.

  He might have expected her to be abashed at having been caught, but instead she seemed smug. The other faerie managed to look superior, aghast, and bemused all at the same time. Munro disliked him instantly. If Eilidh had an ethereal presence about her, this guy did doubly so. He had straight golden hair that hung down his back and skin that was more yellow-gold than tan. His clothing was definitely not from any shop Munro knew. The faerie wore kidskin trousers that fit his long legs perfectly and a flowing woven shirt of a green so dark it looked nearly black. The faerie was taller than Eilidh and easily reached Munro’s own height.

  “Quinton,” she said, “This is Saor. He was a friend of mine. He will escort me to Skye.”

  Was? Munro ignored the introduction and the flicker of annoyance that crossed Saor’s face when Munro did not return his bow. “To Skye?” Munro said to Eilidh. “You’re going to bloody Skye? When?”

  “Tonight. I wanted to speak with you before we left.”

  Slightly mollified that at least she thought to tell him she was going, he turned his attention to Saor and nodded. “Nice to meet you,” he said, not really meaning it. “So are you an exile too?”

  Saor narrowed his eyes. “Certainly not.” Despite the awkward moment, the faerie held out a bundle of sticks with both hands. “For your hearth,” he said.

  Munro would have thought it a useless gift, not to mention a strange one, but he felt something about the sticks that he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t know what they did, but he could tell they weren’t ordinary twigs. “Thank you,” he said gruffly.

  Eilidh stepped forward and guided Munro to the living room. “You are vexed with me,” she said quietly as they walked, “but I do not understand why. Have I done something wrong again?”

  She stood, holding his arm, blinking at him with those swirling silver eyes, and he couldn’t be annoyed. “I’m surprised you’re going is all. How did you get in the house anyway?” He didn’t know what the sticks were for, so he didn’t know where to put them that wouldn’t be offensive. So he stuck them in the middle of the living room table. He’d ask Eilidh about them later.

  “Through the door.” She tilted her head. “Isn’t that the usual way?”

  He chuckled. “I locked it.”

  “Oh!” she said. “I thought the lock was to keep out human thieves, not friends.” She glanced at Saor, who had followed them. “Should we have waited outside?”

  Munro started to say yes, but imagined what the neighbours would have said if these two had sat on his doorstep for any length of time. “It’s fine. Just unexpected.” He’d work out a way to tell her he didn’t mind her so much, but if she was bringing friends, she really should ask. Since she was leaving town that night, it could wait, he supposed. Besides, he didn’t want to say anything in front of this smug faerie bastard she’d brought with her. He was just so damned arrogant. “Why Skye? And why now?”

  Munro sat down, and the faeries followed suit. Eilidh told him she’d met with her father, taking care to impress upon Munro how dangerous and unusual it was for her father to risk meeting with her.
Munro took it to mean it was equally unusual for her to see Saor, although it was obvious they had some kind of connection. They looked closely at each other and gave subtle nods, as if they could read each other’s thoughts. Eilidh went on to explain that her father believed she might find help among three faeries who lived in Skye. Interestingly, it was obvious Saor did not approve of her giving away certain details. He seemed to want to protect any information about the fae and where they lived—even the outcasts.

  “Why are you going, Saor?” Munro wanted to know.

  “To watch over Eilidh.”

  “Eilidh seems like she can take care of herself.” Munro didn’t want to admit he was glad Eilidh wouldn’t be on her own, but he certainly didn’t like the idea of her going away with this guy.