The Earl's Childe (22 page)

Bigger problems that, I guiltily admit, didn't keep me from glaring at Lily and readying a zinging insult to her intelligence. Fortunately, the arrival of Ivy and Ash interrupted what might have been a nasty round of sibling warfare.

Tapping me on the elbow, my youngest sister said in a small voice, “Mum wants to see you and Lily for a few minutes.”

“Sure.” Looking at the circle around us, I added, “See you all later,” before making my escape, though I threw a more sympathetic smile at Max as Jared and Chris seemed to move in closer to him. Guys. I didn't understand them any better than I did girls. Maybe I just didn't understand people.

I heard Lily following me, but I didn't look at her. She wasn't used to losing
anything
, but she didn't have to take it out on me.

We followed Ivy to my parents' office, where both of them were waiting. Isis now had an extra blanket over her where she dozed, clearly exhausted from the salt-laying exercise. Mum and Dad thanked the twins and, after sufficient kisses and hugs, told them to go back to their friends in the library and to be good for Mariah and Eric, the assistant coaches who were “on duty.”

When the twins were gone, my parents briefed Lily about what had happened in the gardens. Her face fell. “Oh! Heather, I'm sorry! I didn't realize—” She stopped herself as she caught the sharp ends of our parents' gazes.

I waved it away. “You were being my sister. It's fine.” She could totally owe me later if I needed her to cover my butt.

After sharing another look with Dad, Mum pulled out two boxes from behind her chair. “These came this afternoon, none too soon, I'd say.” She handed each of us one.

I got my box open faster. Inside was a knife, slightly longer and thinner than the boot knife I already had for camping and such, but of a darker metal. It resembled the iron knife Joe had “borrowed” from his dad's office when we went after Ehrwnmyr.

Mum supported my theory. “They're iron. With everything that's going on, your Dad and I want you to keep them on you at all times. We hope you don't have to use them, but…well, you know.”

We both nodded solemnly.

“The sheaths should fit inside your field boots,” she continued. “Make those your first choice for footwear. If you have to, clip them to your belts and pull your shirts down to cover them some, but we don't want to take any chances of anyone seeing you with weapons. Understand?”

“Yes, ma'am,” we both murmured. Slender, made of black metal, and extending higher than the handles of the knives, the sheath clips were hard to distinguish from our boots once we tucked them beside the decorative buttons on the outsides of our calves.

Before dinner, with the office door closed, Mum went over knife safety and some general moves with all of us, Dad included. Before I left the office, Mum handed me my cell phone.

“We're beyond grounding, now,” she said. “Keep this with you, charged and on, at all times. Call either your dad or me for anything. Understand?”

Of course I nodded. No question or argument there!

Though I liked the feel of my cell back in my pocket, I don't know how I got through dinner. I was quite aware when Mum excused herself early, and I wondered why. All I wanted to do was get to Ermie's stable, talk to him, and hopefully hear back from the two pixies!

CHAPTER

11

Because my kelpie relationship negotiations weren't complicated enough…

As Mum and I approached Ermie's stable, she called my name. When I looked at her, she'd put down the crate of two chickens she'd been carrying (because Ermie liked to “hunt and kill” those, too) and was taking out the knife in her boot. She put it down just outside the stable entry. I did the same. “It's respectful to him,” she explained.

He was watching us, and I could feel his confusion at our actions.

Yes, I appreciate that. And yes, I understand why you are armed now. I smelled a red cap near. And something else…

“Something
what
else?” Mum asked, opening the crate. The chickens sauntered out, clearly unaware of their fate. They'd barely picked up to a jog when we chased, or rather herded, them into the kelpie's pen.

Tilting his head and looking at the birds with condescending incredulity as they pecked carelessly around his hooves, he darted towards one and caught it, breaking its neck in a second. The other bird finally ran, but he caught it with a barely measurable increase in effort. With a sigh that didn't need words to communicate a sarcastic “well, that was fun and challenging,” he picked up both chickens and trotted to the corner, where he lazily lay down and started eating them.

You welcomed the “something what” here. It is among your horses. I can smell it
.

I folded my arms at Ermie and fixed him with a glare. “Are you trying to find out what we know? Is that why you're not telling us what you think or know it is? Or are you testing us to see if we're going to keep it a secret from you?”

Ehrwnmyr stopped eating and looked at me. Someone
is getting clever
.

I had a feeling that thought was sent just to me, so I shot back.
Someone is getting predictable. At least in thinking he's better than everyone else
.

He blinked, then sneezed into the chicken bodies, scattering feathers.
Yes, I have a sense of what he is. Yes, I am interested in what you know or think you know. Yes, I was curious if you would tell me
. After a pause, I felt that little shift in my head and knew he was talking just to me again when he said,
Would you prefer me to be less predictable? I can do that, you know, being that I am older and stronger and likely far wiser than you, precious child
.

I couldn't keep from narrowing my eyes. Mum noticed, I could tell, but busied herself with a broom. I had to win this one. With a smirk that didn't make me happy, I replied only to Ermie.
I know a few things. I know that if I order you to stay predictable and tell me things, you have to do that. If I'm careful enough with my wording, I can demand a lot, you know. But I don't do that, do I?

He snorted again. With the level of
sulk
I got in my head this time, I was surprised he didn't outright pout at me. What can I say? I was getting sick of the “I'm so better than you because I'm a four-century old super-monster” attitude. He went back to eating his chickens and purposely (I'm sure) splattering feathered guts around his pen.

“So, Stormy is part kelpie? Can you tell how much?” Mum asked, putting the broom away and pretending she totally wasn't aware of our secret telepathic exchange and the fact Ermie was acting like one of my younger siblings in Time Out.

“Stormy?” Precious name. A human chose it, I'm sure
. He continued munching, flicking his tail so it thudded on the ground.
Yes, and not really. Not without meeting
.

“Why not without meeting?” Mum continued.

With a belabored, feather-fluttering sigh, he answered,
Because the horse side always wins out. Similar to animal fey, the children of kelpies and mortal beasts are mortal, with only some extra sense and ability and likely a hint more personality. But as I told you when you captured me, since my father was killed, I have seen no other like me, not even part-blood. I merely recognize the scent…and the lack of power. And the lack of blood
.

“So, how much trouble could having this part-kelpie on our property be? With a castle full of kids and teens?” Mum leaned on the fence casually, though the tone of her voice was anything but.

Ermie paused in his eating for several moments to look at us.
It depends on how you define “trouble.” I doubt he eats meat or actually hunts. He'll be far stronger than any horse you have handled. Definitely more headstrong. He'll think more. And even if it is merely hay and grain, he will eat more. I also doubt he'll be well-behaved for anyone he doesn't respect, which, considering how much stronger even mortal horses are than humans, could, possibly, be trouble
.

“He and I, and he and Max, are having some respect conversations.” Mum folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “They ended well, in the poor, weak human's favor. Surprisingly enough.”

Ermie gave my mum a onceover.
Not so surprising, actually. Your family captured me and have worked with me. I don't consider you weak. For humans, anyway
.

“Wait, was that…?” I paused, looking at Mum. “Almost a compliment from Mr. I-Am-So-Awesome?”

Mum smirked. “He
really
wants to meet Max's Son of Storms.”

Have I mentioned how much I love that creature's chosen names?
There wasn't much left of the chickens, so Ermie stood up, stretching.
Although, have I also said how I truly, appreciate that you let
me
choose what you call me?

Well, at least his second rhetorical question was actually sincere.

Shaking off the paddock dirt and mud (he seemed to prefer mud), his coat appeared to grow shinier and his appearance more horse-like. Arching his neck and raising his tail so that it streamed out behind him like glorious black ribbons, he picked up a high-stepping trot and circled in front of us.
I would cause no mischief or “trouble” if I were to be allowed to see this other creature. I truly have not seen any other of my kind, besides my father, and I was but a colt then. Even a half- or a part-blood would be a sight
.

Even his telepathic voice seemed silkier and shinier. He might not be able to outright compel us with charm magick or whatever, but he could certainly lay it on thick.

Mum raised her eyebrows at me, still wearing her half-smile. “Would a ‘let us think about it' work for you for now?”

It is not a “no.” And I appreciate your consideration of my feelings
.

Clearly, Ermie really, really,
really
wanted to meet Max's horse. So much so that I couldn't pick up a trace of sarcasm in his statement, which meant it was worth the significant amount of effort I know it took him to scrub every ounce of it from his voice. Or, just maybe, he was actually being sincere.

“Next question,” I began. “Have you seen two little pixies here? Or have you heard anything from Lady Fana or Lord Cadmus tonight?”

No. Should I?
His tone didn't sound altogether happy about this new possibility.

As I pulled him out to groom him again, since I was all for him staying in a good mood, I explained what had happened in the garden. He didn't say anything for several minutes, so I gave him a gentle poke in the shoulder.

“Well? Any of your ‘I know fey beings best' commentary?”

I have never met the pixies nor have I actually met the ruling daoine síth of this land. Do you trust the pixies?

“I don't know. One of them poked Ivy and cut her finger. And bit or cut our nanny, after you made the storm, because she picked a flower. They were at that meeting in the woods.”

That they attended the meeting only means they showed interest. You described nothing of anyone swearing any allegiance then, unless you left that part out
.

“I told you everything. Nothing got left out as far as I can remember! And I'd remember something that big. I was the only one they asked to do that there.”

Mum looked out the front of the stable at the sky, made a face, and then pulled out her phone. “I still can't deal with how late the sun is out in this freakin' country,” she muttered, then shook her head. “It's getting late, though. If they were going to keep their word, would they even know when to come? Could you…send a message to Heather if they arrive after we leave?”

Are you leaving already?
I sensed in my head that he didn't actually want us to leave. Or, at least, he didn't want to face the daoine síth on his own.

“I've got a chore schedule to put together…” Mum paused, looking between me and Ermie, then fixed her gaze on the kelpie. “Another question for you. Michael and Jack ran salt lines down all the roads leading to the other stables and partway here. How effective will they be? Will they keep the red caps from harming anyone so long as they stay within those lines?”

Ermie chewed in thought.
I can test them for you
.

I looked at Mum, who bit her lip.

“So, if I lead him around the perimeter?” I asked. “While I maybe wait a little longer for them?

“Are you not able to cross the lines?” Mum asked Ermie, not answering my question.

With a snort, he responded,
Considering it was Heather's father, who despises me and whose magick is upon the boy I cannot touch—even if you needed me to carry him to safety, I may add—who laid the lines, if they are sufficient, then I am quite sure even I will be repelled by the lines, even upon Heather's invitation
.

Mum opened and closed her mouth. “Michael doesn't use magick. I cast the spell on Rowan, and I wasn't even really meaning to. I just wanted him to be assured he was safe. Michael didn't even believe in the fey until we captured you at the loch. And once Heather was in her room, he pretty much spent an hour in denial, worried it was his meds acting up.”