Blood Faerie (13 page)

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’ Cheo
.”

“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 investigate 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.

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.

Eilidh smiled her approval at Munro. It made his heart melt in a way he didn’t welcome. She’d made her feelings clear, but when she looked at him like that, he believed he could do anything.

“I voiced the same argument to my father, Quinton, but he asked me to go with Saor, and I couldn’t deny him.”

Saor looked at Munro pointedly. “I was the natural choice. Eilidh and I were once promised to one another.”

He was unmistakably staking out his territory, but Munro didn’t want to make it easy for him. “But not anymore.” His inflection landed somewhere between a question and a statement.

“No,” Eilidh agreed. “Not anymore.”

Saor slipped his hand over Eilidh’s. She seemed surprised at the gesture, but she didn’t take her hand away. “I will always be concerned for Eilidh’s welfare.”

Munro ignored it as best he could. He had to find a way to keep his mind on the job at hand. He took off his jacket, tossed it across the back of a chair, and sighed. Work had been mundane, and he hadn’t gotten anywhere near the murder cases, except to ferret out the latest gossip.

The two faeries waited patiently while Munro made himself more comfortable. He scrubbed his hand through his short hair. Eilidh was going away. He needed her.
For the case
, he told himself as quickly as the thought had formed. And she was going away to Skye, for fuck’s sake. With this…other faerie. He didn’t like it, but he could see the logic in it. She didn’t believe they could stop this blood faerie alone, so it made sense to ask for help. “When are you coming back?”

“Soon,” she said, smiling as though she could read his conflicted emotions.

Damn
. He had no idea what
soon
meant to her, but he supposed it was all he could ask for.

“Quinton,” Eilidh said. “The reason I wanted to speak to you before we left is that I asked my father some questions concerning your abilities.”

“My what?” He knew what she was saying, but he stalled anyway. He really hadn’t given it more thought and instead just accepted that he could tell where Eilidh was all the time. The thing where he felt the life in the stone at the church and shaped the small rock? It hadn’t happened again, so he put it out of his mind, assuming it had to do with Eilidh and not him.