Blood Prophecy: Kallen's Tale (5 page)

Xandra looks up at me.  “I’m
impressed you were so quiet after he said that.  I almost expected to feel you
pulling magic any second there.”

Attempting a deep breath
again, I say, “Even though I have never been accused of being anything other
than gentlemanly, I thought it best to let your father have his say.  I am a
guest in his house.”  Hopefully, not for long.  Building that house up the
mountain is sounding better by the moment.

“Are you really the same guy
who showed up naked in the woods last week?  Cause you’re certainly not acting
like him.  I think I liked that surly, sarcastic, not afraid to say what’s on
his mind, guy better.  This guy,” She moves her hand up and down to indicate
all of me, “is kind of dull.”

I am about to take my
frustration with her father out in a verbal sparring match with her, until I
see the glint in her eye that tells me she is teasing.  “Is that so?”

She sighs and nods her
head.  “I’m afraid so.”

With a deep growl, I think
of a much faster, and pleasant, way to alleviate my frustration.  I put my arms
around her waist and lift her from the ground, drowning out her amused squeal
with my mouth on hers.  I am proving her father’s point, but at the moment, I
do not care.  All I care about is the feel of my lips on hers, her tongue
dancing with mine.  I would give anything for something soft to lay her down on
and cover her body with mine. 

But, this is not the time. 
Slowly, I end the kiss and let her slide down until her feet are once again on
the ground.  “Still prefer the surly, sarcastic guy?  Because I can bring him
back.”

She smiles contentedly and
shakes her head.  “He had his moments, but I guess I don’t miss him as much as
I thought I did.”

Just what I wanted to hear.  Grinning,
I pick up her grandmother’s bags.  “I am not the biggest catch for hand-fasting
in the Fae realm for nothing.  No one can resist my charm.”  I chuckle at her
jealous expression and walk back to the house. 

Chapter 3

I set the suitcases on the
floor next to the Angel.  She does not hesitate to start opening them.  She
begins to pull out magical paraphernalia as if she just came from the magic
market and spent her life savings.

“What is all this?” Xandra
asks, peeking around me at the coffee table where the Angel is placing the
items.

The Angel answers before I
have a chance.  “I’m sure you are familiar with some of these items, and I’ll
explain the others…”

Xandra cuts her off, and I
try to cover up a chuckle when she says, “Before you start making assumptions
about what I know and what I don’t, you should just assume that I don’t know
it.  I didn’t even know magic existed until last week, and the only magic I’ve
used has been my Fairy magic.”

The Angel’s eyes are about
to pop out of her head.  That is the same reaction I had when Xandra first told
me this.  “You didn’t know that magic exists?”  Her eyes shift to her daughter
and the Witch spirit has the decency to look embarrassed.  So much of this mess
could have been avoided if she had only told Xandra about her heritage and
started her training young. 

“I thought I was keeping her
safe from the magical world.  I had no idea that as soon as she turned
seventeen, the Fairies would come looking for her.”  The Witch’s eyes shift to
me briefly.  “If Kallen hadn’t taught her to use her Fairy magic, she may not
have survived.”  Now, I believe my eyes are about to pop out.  I did not think
that she would say anything that sounded complimentary towards me.  Maybe I
misjudged her.

The Angel looks at me with a
new understanding dawning in her eyes.  Perhaps she is seeing me in a different
light.  “You must have taken quite a risk coming here to fight against your own
kind.”

My mistake.  She was simply
thinking of yet another way to insult me.  “It was the Pooka who came to this
realm to do harm.  They are neither my kin nor my kind,” I reply, wanting to
say so much more.

Like mother like daughter, and
now the Angel looks embarrassed.  “Of course.  I apologize for not
distinguishing between you being a Sheehogue Fairy rather than a Pooka.”  What
is her deal with Fairies?  To the best of my knowledge, there has never been a
disagreement between the Sheehogue and the Angels.

Turning away from me, she
says to Xandra, “You have not used any type of spell?”

Xandra shakes her head.  “No. 
Unless you count combining my saka with Mom to make a mana.”  The obnoxious
words the Witches use for magic cause her to stutter a little.  “But Mom worked
the actual spell and had Aunt Barb mix the plants for the salve.”

“I believe you mean using
your mana to create a saka,” the Angel corrects her.

Xandra rolls her eyes,
making me smile.  “Can we just call it magic like the Fairies do?  It’s a lot
less confusing that way.”  Finally.  That really needed to be said.

The Angel nods.  “That is an
excellent suggestion.”  Angels refer to magic as magic, as well as Fairies.  I
did not think she would argue.

The Witch spirit speaks up. 
“When we combined our mana…I mean magic, to heal Kallen from a wound created by
iron, I was not a strong enough vessel to channel her magic.  Once it was
focused on his wound, I had to let go.”

The Angel is confused.  “What
do you mean by not a strong enough vessel?”

I will try to word this so
she will understand, since I have way too much actual experience with it.  “Her
magic burns hot and fast, and she draws more magic than any other magical being
I have come across.  It cannot be channeled by another without causing physical
harm.  It feels like being burned from the inside out, and it is impossible to
contain it if she loses control.”  I glance sideways at Xandra as vivid
memories run through my blood.  She gives me a sheepish look in return.

“She healed his wound almost
instantly,” the Witch spirit adds.

The Angel’s eyes fly back to
me.  “Healed?  Completely?  I’ve never heard of such a thing; iron does massive
internal damage to a Fairy.  How is that possible?”  Well, it makes a lot more
sense now that I know that Xandra is part Angel.  Her grandmother’s eyes find
mine as my understanding is mirrored with hers.  Only Angels can heal
instantly.

Xandra shrugs in
discomfort.  She is beginning to understand how rare an ability this is.  “I
just did what Mom told me to do.  I visualized his wound healing.  And then it
healed.”

The Angel shakes her head.  “Unbelievable. 
You are certainly a remarkable young woman.”  She pats the spot next to her on
the couch.  “Please, join me and I will explain what I’ve brought with me.”  I
can understand why she wants to move on to a different subject.  This one is
hitting too close to home.

I lean my shoulder against
the wall and cross my ankles.  This should be amusing to watch.  Xandra looks
over the stuff her grandmother has brought with her, and she has no clue what
any of it is.  Finally, she looks at me with a question in her eyes. 

I know what she is asking.  “It’s
all defensive magic,” I say.

“Xandra, give your
grandmother a chance, please,” her mother rebukes gently.  I would like to
gently rebuke her for her for how she has handled all of this.  She has no
reason to give Xandra a hard time about being skeptical.

“Fine, it’s just my life
we’re playing with,” Xandra grumbles under her breath as she sits down on the
couch next to her grandmother.  I say under her breath, when I really mean, loud
enough for the entire room to hear it.

“And I have every intention
of keeping you alive,” the Angel says.  Xandra gives her a sour look and sits
as far away from her as possible on the couch. 

Her grandmother tries her
best Angel smile to win her over.  I do not believe it is going to work.  “Why
don’t we start with something simple?  We’ll make a mojo bag for you to wear. 
It will help protect your person from magic which causes a physical attack,
deflecting the attack back towards the Witch responsible.”

I wonder when I should tell
her what a bad idea this is.  She apparently was not paying attention earlier when
I explained that Xandra pulls too much magic to perform simple spells.  She may
end up blowing up the house.

“You mean like Witches’
bottles?” Xandra asks.

Her grandmother nods.  “Yes,
if a Witch bottle explodes around you while you are wearing the mojo bag, it
will flare to life and cause a, for lack of a better word, a force field around
you, sending the spell back to the one who used it.  But, it may only be used
once, so you will need several of them.”

She holds a small leather
pouch out and Xandra takes it.  “Okay, I’m supposed to put stuff in it?”  I
cannot help a snicker, which earns me a dirty look.  This is not going to end
well.

Ignoring me, her grandmother
continues with her Witch magic lesson.  “Yes, you will put an assortment of
items in it that are known for their protective properties.  Then you will say
a spell that binds their collective power, and holds it until needed.  This is
considered low magic – magic that invokes an item’s natural power.  It’s also
called Earth magic.”  I suppose yawning loudly would be rude, but this is
already tedious.

Xandra looks bored, as
well.  I find her impatience amusing when not directed towards me.  “What
first?” she asks to move things along faster.

“You will need to use
several herbs and stones.  The first will be yarrow.  It’ll provide protection
as well as boost your self-confidence.”

I snort.  “She is definitely
not lacking self-confidence.  You may want to start with something that will
lessen her self-confidence.” Ah, another dirty look.  She is cute when she does
that.

They both ignore me now,
which will be to their detriment momentarily.  Her grandmother has her fill the
bag with the required items as she continues to explain what each thing does. 
Finally, she looks at the Witch spirit.  “Where might I find your grimoire?”

In a cave, directly
northwest from here.  Buried under an avalanche.  Because of Xandra.  I am
impressed the Witch is not forthcoming with that information.  “I no longer
have it.”

“Did you lose it in your
travels?”

Xandra ends up confessing.  “No,
I did.  I caused an avalanche and it got buried in the cave Kallen and I were
staying in at the time.

“Avalanche?  Cave?”  The
Angel is beginning to sound like a parrot.

Xandra’s father has had
enough of this inane conversation.  “The details aren’t really important, are
they?  Can’t you just write the spell down for her?”

The Angel snaps back to what
she was doing before the whole grimoire thing came up.  “Of course.”  She finds
a writing utensil and a pad of paper in her purse.  She writes down the spell
and hands it to Xandra.  “Now, just hold the bag close to you and while saying
the spell, imagine a defensive wall coming up around you.”

“Okay.”

Okay, there is no way I can
let Xandra say this spell with her grandmother so close to her.  I may not be
happy with the Angel, but this could go very badly and she will end up getting
hurt.  “You may want to move away from her,” I say, trying hard not to laugh at
her naivety.  All I get is yet another dirty look from Xandra. 

Her grandmother looks me at
impatiently.  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”  Okay, it is her injury I was trying to
prevent.  “Go ahead, dear.”

I am undecided about whether
or not I should leave the room.  Xandra does not know it, but this spell, when
it backfires horrendously, will tell me how she feels about me.  If I am
unharmed, then her feelings mirror mine.  If I become collateral damage, well,
there is always that house up the mountain I want to build.  I really do not
want to be collateral damage.  I take a deep breath and hold my position
leaning against the wall.

Xandra stands up to recite
the spell.  “Herb and stone, heart and mind, with my will may all combine. 
Protect my body, my life, my soul, from forces dark who strike first blow. 
Evil magic based in sin, sent back before it can begin.  Those in my heart will
be unharmed, by this Witch’s protective charm.”  And then there’s a loud
explosion.

The coffee table beats the
couch to the window and shatters the glass as it flies through.  The couch has
a passenger as it goes flying.  I guess the Angel will be a little more likely
to believe me in the future.  As the couch flies into the door, she is thrown
off and ends up under the window.  She is out cold from hitting her head
against the wall.  Other than a few scrapes and bruises, and obviously a
concussion, she looks okay.  She is breathing and not wheezing, so I believe
she is fine.  The recliner has flown into the fireplace, making me glad no one
asked me to build a fire earlier.  Me?  I am standing against the wall, as I
was before, watching the shocked face of my beautiful, powerful Witch Fairy. 
Completely unharmed.

Xandra’s eyes fly to me and
her relief that I am not harmed is tangible.  Which curls my lips into a
knowing smile.  She cares for me as deeply as I care for her.  “Guess that
answers that question.”

She is confused for a moment
and it is fun to watch her face as understanding dawns.  A massive amount of
blood rushing to her cheeks tells me when she knows what I am talking about.  Instead
of acknowledging it, she asks, “What happened?  It wasn’t supposed to do this,
right?” 

I cannot help but chuckling
as I push away from the wall and walk towards her.  “No, it was not.” 

She turns to look at her
spirit parents, also unharmed, and they are in complete shock.  Not surprising,
since this was their first real taste of their daughter’s power.  Xandra is
only slightly less shocked than they are.  “What went wrong?” she asks.

That makes me laugh.  She
honestly has no clue how strong her magic is.  That makes her even more
delicious.  “Nothing went wrong, my little Witch Fairy.  You did everything
correctly.”

Doubt washes over her face
as she looks around the room that looks as if a bomb went off.  “Then why does
the house look like a tornado stormed through it?” 

I laugh more.  What a great
analogy.  She is the perfect storm.  “How aptly put.  You are a tornado
personified.”

Her eyes narrow in my
direction.  “Will you please just answer my question?”

Oh, but it is so much more
fun to tease her.  “This,” I say as I sweep my arm around, “is what happens
when what should have been a gentle summer breeze, is replaced by a tornado.”

“If you don’t stop laughing
at me and answer my question, I’m going to blow you up next.”

She is beautiful when she is
angry.  I cannot keep the amusement from my voice as I answer her question
before she really does lose control and unintentionally blow me up.  “The
average witch would be the gentle summer breeze.  The spell would have been
cast, the mojo bag would have been properly stored for future use, and the
Witch would have gone on her merry way.  But if you replace the gentle summer
breeze with a tornado, you create a spell so large, that it cannot be contained
by a tiny little leather pouch. Therefore, instead of being stored, the spell
is cast out.  And where a normal Witch would have created a thin wall around
herself, your wall is a hundred times thicker and needs more space.  To make
room, it removed all obstacles except for those you specifically told it not to
harm.”