Blood Faerie - Contemporary Urban Fantasy (Caledonia Fae, Book 1) Page 13

  Chapter 13

  The long journey and wakeful night left Eilidh on edge. In the Ways of Earth, she’d only had limited success with the first season, her strongest. Tomorrow would be the height of the third season, and she would have the least connection to her earth power than any other time of year. It left her feeling vulnerable and weak. When Saor told her he’d encountered a few fae on a hunt the night before, she realised how lucky they’d been.

  After they crossed the sound and set foot on the Isle of Skye, Saor used his small talent with fire to dry and warm them before they proceeded. Eilidh could tell he was just as anxious as she. She’d had to live with the idea of having Path of the Azure magic ever since she accidentally cast an illusion that nearly killed one of her kinsmen.

  He had believed he saw a white stag, rare even in the Otherworld, in the highland forests. It had surprised her as much as it did him.

  She remembered controlling the beast like a puppet. She played with it, seeing what it could do. It didn’t have limitations like something real would, but she couldn’t make it do just anything. Trying to discover the rules, Eilidh made it jump in the air. It took great concentration for her to hold it off the ground, but she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t real, after all. Then her kinsman, Piedre, leapt out at the stag, hunting knife drawn. He fell nearly four hundred feet straight down. Neither saw the drop until it was too late. The angle at which the stag stood—up the mountainside from them—deceived their eyes completely. If a fall like that occured in the Otherworld, he would have survived with nothing more than a deep bruising to his pride. In the hills of Earth, though, even the fae were vulnerable to tragedy.

  She could tell by his distance the idea of the Path of the Azure filled Saor with horror. As far as she knew, he’d never seen Eilidh cast it and seemed to be in some denial that it was real. As they walked inland, tension wracked his shoulders. He frowned and focused intently on the flows of earth.

  Eilidh couldn’t keep her mind on their early scouting of the island. She kept thinking back to their conversation the previous night. Returning to the kingdom, even if she were severed, would extend her life by a thousand years. She hadn’t considered that possibility during the past decades. She’d been taught that, as an exile unable to return to the Halls of Mists and walk the magical plane of the Otherworld, she would age faster, although nowhere near as fast as a human. That seemed a blessing to her, condemned and alone as she was. But if she had Imire and Saor beside her, and possibly some of her other friends, if she could once again breathe the kingdom air, would that be worth it? What would she lose? Her earth magic was weak anyway, and she’d never been trained in astral magic. She watched Saor. Perhaps if she wanted to accept his proposal, she shouldn’t go any further. What if she was strong in the Path of the Azure? Wouldn’t that make it harder to give it up?

  “Do you hear something?” he asked.

  “No.” She opened her mouth to tell him what she’d been thinking but changed her mind. She shook her head and added, “Nothing.” Then she noticed a deadness in the air. “They’re here.”

  Saor gave her his full attention, but didn’t ask how she knew.

  “Don’t you feel it?” Eilidh asked.

  “Feel what? I feel nothing.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “The kingdom magic is completely disturbed here, as though we were standing in the centre of a human city. The few thousand people around this island would not be able to achieve that on their own.”

  Saor looked around and she saw his expression change to one of understanding. They stood in a deep forest on an island in the middle of nowhere. A place like this was where the kingdom was usually the strongest. But instead, its influence was minimal. “This isn’t right,” Saor said. “I’ve heard there is a gateway nearby.”

  “If there were, we would be able to smell the Halls of Mist.”

  Saor didn’t argue, but he grew even more tense. The pair continued walking, up the peninsula toward the centre of the island. It took several hours, because they moved with caution in the unfamiliar territory. Suddenly, Saor stopped. “Eilidh,” he said and turned to her.

  She waited for him to finish, but he said nothing more. “Saor?”

  “It’s gone,” he said. His golden skin turned sallow.

  “What’s gone?”

  “The flows. I can’t see the flows.”

  Eilidh’s ability with the Ways had always been so weak she hadn’t noticed the change. For her to see the flows, she had to try. For Saor, it was as natural as breathing. Eilidh turned to a nearby tree and whispered, but it did not acknowledge her words. She turned a puzzled expression to Saor. “Speak to the earth. Try.”

  She’d never seen him so tentative, as though he feared even to say the words. Saor knelt on the hillside and put his hand on a flat, grey stone. Frustration marred his smooth features. In the ancient fae tongue he said, “Water.” His forehead wrinkled into a frown. “Path. Strength. Ages.” Each word became progressively angrier until he shouted, “Fire!” None of his words had any effect. Stone magic was opposite on the spectrum from her weak air magic, so Eilidh had never been attuned to his casting. But as he spoke the words, she felt their hollowness. Something in this place robbed him of his connection to the earth.

  The failure visibly shook Saor. For the first time, she had to acknowledge she hadn’t been entirely confident in their mission. Just because Imire heard a few rumours about elder outcasts did not make it so. Still, as she looked around this place and felt the lack of kingdom influence, she grew excited at the idea of meeting another azuri fae. It had been easy to think about giving up talents that had never been anything but a curse to her. But if she were not alone, what would that mean?

  She gave Saor’s arm a reassuring squeeze and took the lead. Now she dismissed her earlier idea of turning back. She had to do this. It was possible the lack of kingdom influence could be caused by something other than the Path of the Azure. She had no idea what it could be, though, and she was determined to unravel the mystery.

  She led Saor, who with each passing hour seemed more troubled. His golden eyes were vacant and fixed on something in the distance. Several times he didn’t follow, and she had to double back. She found him heading the way they’d come. “Stay with me,” she said softly.

  Eilidh led them in a broad curve over the high mountains and past the sheer cliffs. The terrain was rugged, and it slowed them down, but she believed the fae would stay away from people. Wouldn’t they? She paused to consider. She didn’t stay away from people, so why was she assuming these faeries would? She’d made the same mistake any kingdom fae would make, thinking that human settlements were the antithesis of their power.

  With that realisation, she changed direction, heading straight north. She based her judgment on the deadness of the air and how disoriented Saor became. The more agitated he grew, the more confident she was about their direction. To make progress more certain, she began to follow a human road. Few cars passed, with only an occasional bus. Now she held Saor’s hand. He had stopped responding to her completely, but at least she did not have to fight him to get him to follow.

  Once, Saor stood motionless. Eilidh waited patiently, thinking he might simply need to relieve himself. But instead of saying a word to her, he began to speak with someone, or something, she could not see. He looked down, as though the person was quite small. He turned to Eilidh and said, “We need to go south.”

  “Why?”

  He nodded again in the same downward direction and repeated Eilidh’s question. He listened for a moment and said, “She says we’ll find the ones we’re seeking there.”

  “No,” Eilidh said. “We go north. Come, Saor.”

  “But…”

  “No.” It had to be an illusion. Someone wanted to lead them astray. That could only mean whoever cast it must be close. Only an astral faerie could cast illusions, that much she knew. She felt both triumphant and excited, until Saor started to yell. He jumped and sla
pped at his arms and legs, as though something crawled all over him.

  “Stop.” Eilidh put her hands on either side of his face, holding him firmly until he stared into her eyes. “It isn’t real, Saor. Trust me.” She didn’t even want to know what he could have seen to put him in such a state.

  “Please, Eilidh,” he pled with her. He started to run, but she grabbed him by the arms. They struggled as she forced him to meet her eyes.

  “Clear your mind, Saor.” She wasn’t sure which of her words had the effect, but suddenly Saor calmed. He looked down at his body, then back at her. The panic had gone, but some horror remained. She understood his reaction and why all fae were afraid of illusions. If someone could interfere with the thoughts of even a disciplined faerie like Saor, how could they trust anything they saw?

  Holding Saor’s hand, as much to make sure he didn’t wander off as to comfort him, she spoke to the air in a firm, clear voice. “The blessings of the Mother upon you, elder.” The forest had an unaccustomed stillness, but she received no reply. “You have severed our connection to the earth. We are no threat to you. We wish only to speak with you.”

  A soft blue glow appeared on a path ahead. It led away from the road and into the forest. Eilidh approached, leading Saor by the hand, and stopped a few feet away from the glow. It hovered just above a delicate footprint. She examined the mark in the dirt. It appeared to be natural, but Eilidh knew she shouldn’t trust her eyes. The glow could be attempting to lead her astray, just as something had done with Saor.

  Eilidh stopped and considered. She could take the chance and follow, knowing it might lead them into danger. On the other hand, the footprint pointed further north, not south, as Saor’s illusion had. In the end, she could think of no good alternative. As long as she was following an illusion, the caster had to be nearby.

  They stepped forward again, and as soon as they reached the glow, it disappeared, but the footprint remained. Just ahead, she caught sight of another blue glow. She went to it and saw the faintest trace of a footprint on the ground again. If Saor had been his normal self, he could have followed the trail unaided. Just as Eilidh had that thought, the glow appeared in front of her. She stepped forward, and it moved a few feet away. The influence no longer showed her footprints, but slowly led her deeper into the woods and over a stream.

  After a half hour of walking, they came to a clearing. In the middle was the last thing Eilidh expected to see: a slightly rundown human cottage with a car parked alongside the stone driveway. Sprigs of grass grew around the vehicle, and a small pair of feline eyes peered from underneath it.

  The front door opened, and a human woman came out. Her skin had a pinkish glow with freckles across her nose. Hair the colour of rust gathered loosely around her shoulders. She wore jeans and a cropped t-shirt with the word sugarbabe across the bosom.

  “This is private property,” the woman said.

  Eilidh opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Why would the strange glow have led her here? Then Eilidh realised what was peculiar about the woman. She stood perfectly still. She waited with the patience a human could never show. “You are fae,” Eilidh said.

  The woman tilted her head.

  A noise came from behind Eilidh, and she turned and saw another woman standing behind her. She had the same colouring as the woman by the house, but she had more angular features. Her expression was also less friendly. “Might as well go up,” she said, “since you can’t be persuaded to go home.”

  Everything about her said, You aren’t welcome here, but Eilidh had a job to do, so she led Saor onward.

  ***

  The three other druids—Douglas, Rory and Phil—all had talents with the element of water. They were friendly enough, but they acted wary and showed consistency in their disbelief that Munro’s abilities had spontaneously emerged. Although Munro was now fairly sure Eilidh had uncovered his abilities, he had to stick with his story. They also insisted on a demonstration of his powers before they would speak openly, even though Frankie told him they were cousins.

  “I’m not sure I can do anything on command,” he said. “It always happens when I’m not thinking about it.” They were sitting around a white, metal table in Rory’s back garden. The sky had taken on the flat, pale grey it did on late summer nights, when the sun stayed up until nearly midnight. He showed them the bear and the teardrop he’d made and explained how it happened.

  Douglas and Phil seemed satisfied, but not Rory. “Stone, you say? That’s pretty rare.”

  “Is it?” Munro shrugged. “Just seems like rocks and metal are the only thing that have done anything for me. I don’t really know all that much about it.”

  Rory picked up the stone teardrop and held it by the wide, bulbous end. A green glow so faint Munro thought it might be a trick of the light emanated from Rory’s fingertips. A single drop of water slid down the channel to the tear’s point and splattered onto the table. “It’s a genuine piece,” he said finally.

  Frankie explained, “All druids use talismans like those, although some of us are better than others at making them. The medium tends to depend on the talent. Since the four of us are attuned with water, wood works best for us.” He started to go on, but Rory cut him off.

  Rory tapped the teardrop onto the top of the metal bear’s head. “What we don’t know is who made them.” He seemed to be the leader, with Phil and Douglas staying quiet and taking their cues from him.

  “Come on, Rory,” Frankie said. “I couldn’t have made that. Could you? There aren’t any other stone druids around. Only someone with talent in stone or fire could have made that.”

  Rory reluctantly handed the piece back. “You’re a copper, right?”

  Munro nodded. Frankie had told them about his job when they’d all been introduced.

  “So you probably saw Craig Laughlin then.”

  Munro froze. Craig Laughlin was the second victim, the one whose heart exploded. “No,” he said. “I never saw him. I’d been off sick and wasn’t working that night. You knew him?”

  Douglas sat forward. “What kind of sick?”

  Munro didn’t want to talk about it. “Passed out at work. Had a seizure or something. It’s all bogus. The docs can’t find anything wrong. Probably was just stress.” He shrugged.

  Douglas and Phil exchanged a look, and Rory relented. “Sounds like what happened to most of us. Unlocking isn’t an easy process. That’s why we’re surprised it happened on its own. I’ve never heard of that.”

  “What does this have to do with Craig Laughlin?” Munro asked.

  Frankie leaned over and said quietly, “He was one of us.”

  “A stone druid like you,” Douglas added.

  Rory cast a glare that silenced the entire table.

  Just then, the side gate opened and two more men walked through. One was tall and lanky in a black t-shirt and ripped jeans, while the other had an athlete’s build and buzzed blond hair. “Hey,” the tall one said to Rory, then stopped when he saw Munro. He looked him over for a second and turned his attention back to Rory. “Boss wants us,” he said.

  “Boss?” Munro asked. He had a feeling it wasn’t an employer. Not at this time of night.

  Frankie chuckled. “That’s just what Aaron calls our mentor, Cridhe. We gotta go though. You can take my car back to my house to get yours. I’ll get a lift with one of the guys.”

  Cridhe? It could be a fae name, but then it could be some kind of nickname too. “Your mentor? Can I tag along? Maybe he can help me figure out how my abilities got unlocked.”

  “Sure,” Frankie said. “He’ll want to meet you.” He glanced at Rory and the new arrivals, but no one raised an objection.

  Just then, Munro’s mobile rang. He put the phone to his ear. “Munro,” he said. He listened and glanced up at the five men. “Christ,” he muttered as he hung up. To the group he said, “Sorry, it’ll have to be another night. I’ve got to work.” He turned to Frankie. “Does the offer of your car
still stand? I have to go in right away.”

  Frankie frowned. “Another murder? Already?”

  The response unsettled Munro, as though his cousin assumed there would be another killing and was only surprised by the timing. Instead of answering, Munro thanked his host and said goodbye to the others. “Nice to meet you all,” he said with a wave as he took Frankie’s keys.

  His cousin followed him out to the car. “The gear box sticks a little,” he said, opening the driver’s side door.