Authors: E. J. Stevens
Tags: #Fantasy, #Vampires, #Mystery, #Young Adult, #Romance
By E.J. Stevens
Published by Sacred Oaks Press
Copyright 2013 E.J. Stevens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Pronunciations are given phonetically for names and places found in
Blood and Mistletoe
of the Ivy Granger series. Alternate names and nicknames have been provided in parentheses. In some cases, the original folklore has been changed to suit the city of Harborsmouth and its environs.
(Bargheist, Black Dog)
(Bwca, Urisk, Hearth Faerie, Domestic Hobgoblin)
(The Blue Hag, Cailleach Bheur, Queen of Winter, Crone, Veiled One, Winter Hag)
(Faerie Cat, Cait Shith, Cait Sith)
(Fairy, Sidhe, Fane, Wee Folk, The Gentry, People of Peace, Themselves, Sidhe, Fae, Fay, Good Folk)
(The Red Man)
(Demon, Great Marquis of Hell)
(The Green Lady)
(Brownie, son of Wag-at-the-Wa)
(Water Horse, Nyaggle)
(Lhiannan Sidhe, Leanhaun Shee, Leannan Sìth, Fairy Mistress)
(Merrow, Moruadh, Murúghach)
(Peg Powler of the Trees, Water Hag)
(Phooka, Pouka, Púca, Pwca)
Tuatha Dé Danann:
tootha day da-nan
(Gyl Burnt Tayle, Jack o’ Lantern, Wisp, Ghost Light, Friar’s Lantern, Corpse Candle, Hobbledy, Aleya, Hobby Lantern, Chir Batti, Faerie Fire, Spunkies, Min Min Light, Luz Mala, Pinket, Ellylldan, Spook Light, Ignus Gatuus, Orbs, Boitatá, and Hinkypunk)
Now it is the time of night,
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide.
A Midsummer Night's Dream
What wild heart-histories seemed to lie enwritten,
Upon those crystalline, celestial spheres!
...Lighting my lonely pathway home that night,
They have not left me (as my hopes have) since.
They follow me - they lead me through the years.
They are my ministers - yet I their slave.
Their office is to illumine and enkindle -
My duty, to be saved by their bright fire
-Edgar Allan Poe,
Table of Contents
elcome to Harborsmouth, where monsters walk the streets unseen by humans…except those with second sight.
Whether visiting our modern business district or exploring the cobblestone lanes of the Old Port quarter, please enjoy your stay. When you return home, do tell your friends about our wonderful city—just leave out any supernatural details.
Don’t worry—most of our guests never experience anything unusual. Otherworlders, such as faeries, vampires, and ghouls, are quite adept at hiding within the shadows. Many are also skilled at erasing memories. You may wake in the night screaming, but you won’t recall why. Be glad that you don’t remember—you are one of the fortunate ones.
If you do encounter something unnatural, we recommend the services of Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective. Co-founder of Private Eye detective agency, Ivy Granger is a relatively new member of our small business community. Her offices can be found on Water Street, in the heart of the Old Port.
Miss Granger has a remarkable ability to receive visions by the act of touching an object. This skill is useful in her detective work, especially when locating lost items. Whether you are looking for a lost brooch or missing persons, no job is too big or too small for Ivy Granger—but you may be on her waiting list for awhile. Hopefully, you are not in dire need of her immediate services. After her role in recent events, where she was instrumental in saving our city, Miss Granger’s business is booming.
If matters are particularly grim, we can also provide, upon request, a list of highly skilled undertakers. If you are in need of their services, then we also kindly direct you to Harborsmouth Cemetery Realty. It’s never too early to contact them, since we have a booming “housing” market. Demand is quite high for a local plot—there are always people dying for a place to stay.
hat do the names
ghost light, friar’s lantern, corpse candle, aleya, hobby lantern, chir batti, faerie fire, min min light, luz mala, spook light, ignus fatuus, orbs, boitatá,
have in common? They are all names for wisps. Corpse candle? Now that was bound to give a girl a complex.
I had recently discovered that I was half fae. My faerie half is wisp, as in Will-o’-the-Wisp—my father, king of the wisps. It was a lot to digest.
Dealing with my newfound princess-of-the-wisps status was stressful, but business was booming and I didn’t have time for random panic attacks. I used to see a therapist to help deal with my anxiety. Lately, I visited Galliel at Sacred Heart church.
Galliel wasn’t the priest at Sacred Heart, though I usually stopped and said hello to Father Michael while there. Father Michael had helped me with my recent demon trouble, but spending time with him didn’t relieve my anxiety like Galliel did. It wasn’t Father Michael’s fault. He was a good priest, as far as I could tell, but he was only human. Galliel was a unicorn.
I was indulging in my guilty pleasure, Galliel’s adoring head resting in my lap, while Ceff spoke with the priest. This was bliss. I had always wondered what true happiness was like, but never thought I’d have the opportunity to experience it for myself. Somehow, during a catastrophic week that nearly brought my city to its knees, I had found my own. Galliel was a big part of that. So was Ceff.
If I were looking for love on Craig’s List, my singles ad would begin something like, “Must Love Unicorns.” Of course, I didn’t have to look for love online. My heart now belonged to Ceff.
Ceffyl Dŵr, or Ceff, was a kelpie. In fact, he was king of the local kelpies. Since discovering my wisp princess birthright, that seemed somewhat fortuitous. It was also extremely dangerous. The kelpie king had plenty of enemies. He also had a murderous, sociopathic wife.
I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like I truly belonged. I had so much to be thankful for; a gorgeous date; an amazing best friend, business partner, and roommate; a wonderful mentor; fabulous new friends; numerous clients; and a pet freaking unicorn.
I should have known that something bad was coming. I have said it before and I’ll say it again; Fate is a fickle bitch.
Most people have skeletons in their closets. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I am fully aware that my boyfriend was born more yesterdays ago than I can count. Since Ceff is a few millennia old, I expect some dusty bones lurking behind the perfectly pressed shirts, faded jeans, and tailored suits—no shoes of course. What I didn’t expect was for Ceff’s skeletons to come storming from the dark corners of his closet with finger bones raised in anticipation of clawing my eyes out.
Ceff was married once. To put it nicely, the woman was a freaking bitch. I’d say the chick was a harpy, but that would insult harpies everywhere and I didn’t want to piss off potential clients. Melusine, Ceff’s ex-squeeze and former queen, was pure malicious evil.
Judging from the memories I witnessed in a psychometric vision I had while hunting for Ceff’s bridle, the woman was also bat-shit-crazy. Coming from me, that’s really saying something. But seriously, what other reason explains a mother murdering her infant child in front of her husband?