Blood of Retribution (10 page)

Garren is clearly insulted.  “Do you really believe that killing her grandson and his wife would win me her heart?”  He does have a point.

As the shock wears off, it starts to sink in to my brain what just happened.  It’s surprising that the rest of the house hasn’t collapsed, considering the big hole in its side.  It still may, making going back in too dangerous.  But, what is there for me to go back in for?  Our room, and probably everything in it, is gone.  Everything I found dear enough to bring with me from my realm is gone.  Things I can’t replace.  Presents from Mom and Dad over the years like jewelry and books, photo albums from when they were still corporeal and could be caught on film.  Souvenirs from my few trips into Denver.  All of my non-magical clothes.  Gone. 

The weight of the realization cripples me, and my knees give out and my butt hits the terrace floor.  I don’t even realize it until I’m suddenly looking at Kallen’s knees instead of this chest.  Everything that I loved, every inanimate thing that I held dear, is now gone.

Kallen kneels down next to me.  With a gentle hand, he pushes a stray strand of hair from my eyes.  “I am so sorry, Angel,” he says, knowing the thoughts going through my mind.

I try to muster a smile.  “At least we’re okay,” I say.

“We will find who did this,” he reassures me.

Damn right we will.  I will have no qualms whatsoever using my magic against whoever tried to kill us.  A new thought strikes me and a chill runs down my spine.  Looking at Kallen with concern, I say, “Why would they have picked now?  I mean, it’s not like we would be sleeping and sure to be in bed.  So why do it now?”

Storm clouds are already brewing in Kallen’s eyes as he must have been thinking the same thing.  “I fear we may have been followed from the village.”

I can finish the rest of that thought.  “And whoever it was assumed that I would teleport us back to our bedroom instead of the kitchen.”  Wow.  Whoever did this must know Kallen and me really well.  Kallen nods once, his face going so hard that I’m tempted to slide back a little bit.

I can’t help it, my eyes shift to Garren, the odd man out in the household.  Expecting the accusation, he says, “I knew you were in the kitchen.  Why would I have set a bomb to go off in your bedroom?”

I shrug, wanting to believe him for Isla’s sake but I’m not convinced yet.  “You weren’t expecting us to be in the kitchen.  Maybe you followed us home and set the bomb on a timer and miscalculated.”

“Or maybe I could have killed you in your sleep every night since your return to this realm,” he snaps back.

“I would have sensed him following us,” Kallen says tersely.  I can tell he wanted the easy answer of Garren being responsible, but he’s moved past that.  “If there was someone magical following us, I would have felt their magic and you would have as well.”

He’s right.  I’m not always as good at paying attention to the buzzing in the back of my mind when in the presence of someone magical, but Kallen is.  He would have known we were being followed.  Garren is off the list.  “Hey, how about the scribe?  He was the one who called me out in the middle of the village, and he was gone by the time things were calmed down and we left.  His magic was really weak, maybe we both ignored it.”

Kallen’s brows knit together as he ponders this idea.  “I believe that is worth discussing with my uncle.”

A clamor of noise from the back of the house gets our immediate attention.  All three of us pull magic, not knowing what to expect.  With a synchronized sigh of relief, we all let our magic go when the King and his private guards come barreling around the house.

Dagda does a beeline for me.  With his hands on my shoulders, he searches me for any sign of injury.  “Are you well?” he asks.

I nod.  “We were downstairs when it happened.”

Dagda does his own sigh of relief, but that emotion is short lived for him.  Turning to his guards, he says, “Search the house.  Thoroughly.  I want nothing missed.  If you are the least bit suspicious of something, bring it to my attention immediately.”

“I will aid in the search,” Isla says as she comes out the terrace door.  She walked through the house instead of around it.  I want to tell both her and Dagda that’s not safe, but I know neither would listen.  “Kallen,” she says, “are you up to joining the search?  You will know as well as I if anything is out of place.”

Kallen nods.  With a quick kiss on my lips, he stands and follows Isla back into the house.  It makes sense that she didn’t ask me to help, I guess.  My curiosity and desire to explore the house has always been trumped by some disaster.  Like this one.  So, I wouldn’t know if anything is out of place.

“Come,” Dagda says, holding his hand out to me.  “We will wait in my carriage.  I do not like having you exposed like this.”  His eyes have been scouring the shoreline since he arrived.

He’s right.  I am a sitting duck out here.  Putting my hand in his, I let him pull me up.  My legs feel a little rubbery as the shock hasn’t completely worn off yet, but I force one in front of the other.

At the back of the house near the garage, Dagda’s everyday carriage is parked.  Two guards are in place, one on either side, ensuring that it is not messed with.  Dagda opens the door and I climb into the wonderland of blue comfort.  The walls of the carriage are a pale blue and the soft leather seats are a beautiful midnight blue.  The carriage is large enough to transport six, so we are definitely not crowded.  Dagda pulls open a small cabinet door and takes out two glasses and two decanters, setting them on a fold down table he puts in place between us.  In one glass, he pours a clear liquid that I am sure is water and he slides it across the table to me.  In his glass, he pours a brownish liquor that I am sure is scotch.  He downs it one gulp.  I’m guessing that the  burning feel of it as it slides down his throat eases him somehow.  I take a sip of my water and try not to cry over everything I lost in the explosion.

Looking at me again, Dagda says, “I would appreciate it if you limited your life-threatening disasters to one per day.”

I try to muster a laugh because I know he’s teasing me, but a slight upturn at the corners of my mouth are all I can manage.  “You know me, I’m an overachiever,” I say wryly, repeating Garren’s description of me.

Dagda barks a laugh.  “That you are.”  He pours himself another shot of scotch.  He doesn’t down it this time, though; he simply takes a small drink.  “Any ideas of who is responsible?” he asks.

I shake my head, but then remember what I said to Kallen and Garren.  “The scribe started a mob scene when I was in town.  Could it have been him?”

Dagda thinks about it for a minute.  “He is an annoying old bastard, but I do not believe he is capable of such a thing.  Primarily because of his mobility issues.  The Fairy can hardly move and his magic has all but left him.  He was not a strong Fairy in his youth and the years lessened his power more so than in anyone else I know.”

“He seems to really hate me regardless of all that.  Maybe someone helped him?”  I certainly have enough enemies here.  Any one of them could have helped.

Dagda takes a moment again before answering.  “He is not known for his charming personality, so I doubt anyone was able to stand his company for the amount of time planning something like this would take.  Though, he did send you into the dark magic section without any warnings or cautionary tactics.”  He absentmindedly twirls his drink on the table.  “I believe it is worth questioning him.  I will have him found and brought back to the palace if he has not already returned for questioning.”  Opening a window, he beckons to the nearest guard and gives him the order, and then he closes the window again.

“Now,” Dagda says with a flash of anger as he changes the topic, “tell me what happened in the village today.”  I’m pretty sure he already knows.

My cheeks pink and I look down at my water.  “It wasn’t a big deal.  I mean, the guy has a right to hate me if he wants.”

“Xandra,” Dagda says sharply, causing me to look up.  “A Kingdom is based upon power and hierarchy.  You are the one and only Princess of this realm.  In the realm of your birth, you have a President, correct?”  I nod and he continues.  “If someone physically attacked this man or a member of his family, what would occur?”

My heart sinks.  “That person would go to prison, probably for the rest of his or her life.”

“Then why should it be any different in this situation?”

Because it’s me and I don’t feel like the President’s daughter, or the King’s daughter.  I feel the same way that I did back in Colorado.  I’m just simple ol’ me. 

In a quiet voice, Dagda says, “You are a Princess, whether you feel like one or not.”

Oh.  Did I say that out loud or am I just that easy to read?  “I know, but it’s hard to get used to.  It’s hard to think about someone spending the rest of his life in prison just because he touched me.”

“It is my understanding that he did more than simply touch you,” Dagda growls, having difficulty now keeping his anger in check.

True.  “That’s why Kallen punched him in the face.”

Dagda barks a laugh.  “I will have to thank him the moment I see him, then.  Now, tell me in great detail what happened so I am prepared to question the Fairy later.”

By the time I am finished telling him, Kallen has joined us in the carriage.  I leave out the part of him watching the scene play out from a distance.  I know that makes him uncomfortable just thinking about it.  He’s still feeling guilty and I’m sure he will for a long time.  I give him a reassuring look, letting him know all is forgotten on my part.

A scratching at the carriage door makes me jump.  Opening the door carefully, Dagda jumps back slightly when Taz comes bounding in.  “I found a scent that doesn’t belong to anyone in the house,” he says as way of a greeting.

I’m about to get excited until I remember how recently he came into my life.  “It was probably the scent of Adriel and Raziel.  They live here, but they’ve been on vacation. You haven’t met them yet.”

Taz’s beady little eyes stare into mine.  “Do you think my nose is incapable of distinguishing between Angel, Witch and Fairy?”

“Um, I guess not,” I say, not really knowing how good his nose is, but I don’t want to insult him more in case he really did find a clue.

“What is he saying?” Kallen asks.

“Tell him I’m saying he’s a whacka who should take better care of you so you don’t get killed.  I can’t do all the work.”

I glare down at Taz.  “I can take care of myself.”  His reply is a loud snort. 

“Xandra?” Kallen says, reminding me he asked a question.

I give Taz a hard look before turning back to Kallen.  “He found a scent in the house that he didn’t recognize as one of ours.”

Kallen’s brain goes immediately to the place mine had.  “He has not met everyone who lives in the home.”

I nod.  “True, but he says that it wasn’t Angel, so that leaves out Adriel and Raziel.  I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad don’t have a scent.”

“Oh please, there is ectoplasm clinging to every wall they have traversed,” Taz says, wrinkling his nose.

“Okay, I guess ghosts do have a smell,” I say.  “But it wasn’t their scent either.”