Blood Faerie (12 page)

“No? Did he take something else?” Taking the heart of the first victim seemed to be part of a ritual, so this second killing must have served some purpose. Unless he had truly gone insane.

“No, but he tried. He succeeded in a way. The chest was opened as in the first murder, and the heart removed. The SOCOs found the heart a few yards away from the body.”

“He left it behind?” Eilidh frowned.

“In pieces. The closest they could figure, it exploded or burst from the inside. They’re hoping the autopsy will tell them more, but we both know that’s unlikely.”

Munro watched her closely. She realised he must wonder whether she knew more than she had told him. They stood, looking at each other for a long moment. Finally, Munro said, “We have to stop this guy. I can tell you’re holding back from me, but I don’t get why. Is it because of the kiss? I’m not going to push you. I’m a big boy. I can take it. And this case is more important than working out my feelings.” He smiled when he said it, but Eilidh could see a residual hurt in his eyes.

It stunned her. She’d convinced herself that he’d only been doing what he thought she wanted. But now he was confessing that he felt something for her? “Munro,” she said. “I am fae.”

Annoyance flitted over his features. “You keep bloody saying that as though I’d forget it. You think I can be around you without seeing how different you are?” Munro looked away for a moment and then turned his blue eyes back to her. “I didn’t mean to say all that,” he said quietly. “I just want you to know you can trust me. It doesn’t have to be awkward between us.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she explained. “I know you want to stop this killing as much as I do, even though we have somewhat different reasons. I do not know if we will be successful. I have never encountered someone such as the faerie who is killing with blood shadows. It would have frightened me even if I had every kingdom Watcher at my back. But instead I have to face it alone.”

“That’s my point. You aren’t alone. I’m right here.”

“You are—”

“Not fae? Yeah, I get that. I’m different, but I’m here, I’m willing, and I’m
not
afraid. I might be different, but I’m not less.” His anger had risen, and she saw the intensity of his feeling shine brightly in his eyes.

“No,” she agreed. “Not less.” She wanted to explain the things he couldn’t possibly appreciate about the dangers they faced. It could cost them their lives and that of many more humans. “It will take some time for me to become accustomed to this new way. I’ve avoided your people for decades. I don’t think you less.” She meant that too, possibly for the first time. The more she talked with Quinton, the more she questioned everything she had been taught about humans. She couldn’t let go of her reservations, but for now, it felt nice not to be alone. She wondered if there was something more as she peered into his eyes.

His face softened as she spoke, and she was relieved to see the anger drain out of him. “Oh,” he said. “I almost forgot. I got you something while I was out.” He went to the living room and retrieved a plastic bag. When he returned, he said, “I nearly picked one with flowers, but decided it wouldn’t suit you. You look good in black.” He pulled something knitted out of the bag, tore off a plastic tag, and handed it to her.

“What is it?” she said, turning the object over in her hands. It was shaped like a cloth bowl.

Munro grinned. “Here.” He took it and stretched the fabric, then nestled it over her head. “It’s called a watch cap and will save you from messing with that silly hood all the time.” He adjusted it snugly on her head, then gently reached over and made sure her ears were fully tucked in on both sides.

Eilidh shivered. He must not have known what an intimate gesture caressing ears was to her people. His face betrayed no sexual intent, but she couldn’t help but respond to the touch.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “I can turn on the heat.”

“No,” she said, feeling the edges of the hat. The fact that he’d bought her a gift touched her, even if it was practical. She couldn’t recall the last gift she’d received. It struck her as strange that something nice was happening just as something horrible overshadowed her life. “I need to go. I’m meeting someone tonight. Someone who may be able to offer advice that will help me.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Eilidh smiled at Munro, and he smiled back. Maybe she
could
have a friend. She couldn’t let herself think of anything more, no matter what her heart wanted.

“No, I’m sorry. I wish you could join me, but I need to move quickly and silently, and the faerie I’m meeting will not appear if he senses a human nearby. Our people are taught not to mix with humans. It is very deeply ingrained.”

“So I noticed,” he said and smiled again, although he appeared disappointed at her refusal.

She didn’t quite know how to say goodbye. Humans shook hands or kissed, but she didn’t feel comfortable with either. Among the fae, excessive touching was not done, even between friends. But Munro saved her from having to think on it further by simply opening the door. “Tell me how it goes then?”

She nodded and stepped outside and down the path. “I will.”

He waved and shut the door.

She could not help but sigh with relief. She enjoyed his company, but she found houses overwhelming. All the trapped scents bothered her, and she felt walled off from the earth. She hadn’t needed to leave quite yet. She had plenty of time before she met her father at the folly. But she needed to eat and didn’t want to turn down Munro’s inevitable offer of strange-smelling human food. And she knew Munro wasn’t ready to watch her hunt. She loped through the city, going unnoticed out of habit. When she crossed the River Tay and headed toward the hills, her mouth started to water as she thought of the fresh rabbit she would have for dinner.

***

The appointed hour was the darkest of the night. Imire had chosen the time when the kingdom borders were largest, so the shifting boundaries would move closer to the city and encompass the folly. Imire would not have to endure the discomfort of leaving the kingdom, and Eilidh would have an easy means of escape to the city, should things go wrong.

She sat cross-legged on the ancient stone table in front of the folly, a scant few feet from the edge of the cliff. The city sprawled below her. The ribbon-like River Tay ran alongside its northern curve. Lights from houses and tiny cars inched along the highway at the bottom of the sheer drop.

She had eaten, bathed in the river, and tried to prepare herself to see her father. But instead of anticipating their reunion, all she could think about was the fifty thousand humans who called Perth home. She was their only chance against a dark faerie, and she felt woefully ill-equipped. How could she fight something she didn’t understand? She didn’t even understand her own talent for the Path of the Azure. How could she come to grips with an ability so much darker and well-practiced than her own? The determination was there, but she didn’t know where to start.

She felt Imire approach long before she heard or saw him. He unmasked his magic and let his presence flow gently ahead. She’d prepared what she would say and how she would behave. The meeting would be as difficult for him as for her. To make things easier, she would tell him she was well and happy and make him believe it at all costs. She would lay out her fears of the dark faerie methodically. He would
have
to see the dangers and at least try to convince the conclave to change their minds and act.

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
.