Blood Prophecy: Kallen's Tale (9 page)

Chapter 7

Coming back to reality is
painful.  In many ways.  Physically.  Emotionally.  Life threatening.  I add
that last part because three pairs of eyes are getting over their shock of
watching Xandra and I practically make love in the snow, and now, at least two
of them are very angry. 

“What the hell was that?”
her father growls.  He has never looked more corporeal than he does right now. 
Color has rushed into him, and I believe if he concentrates just a little
harder, he will have enough form to wrap his hands around my neck.

To my surprise, the Angel
steps in front of me.  “It was not his fault.”  It appears she is determined to
be on all the same kill lists that I am.  I must admit, my feelings of
well-being towards are beginning to grow as she stares down an angry father in
my defense.  If this had happened in my realm, Xandra and I would be getting
married as soon as she regains consciousness.

“I have eyes,” her father
snarls.  “They still work perfectly.”

“The power of the magic was
surging through her and into him.  They were caught in its web and until it ran
full circle, they could not leave it.  They could no more help their actions
than you can stop being see-through.”

I almost chuckle at that
last part.  Fortunately, I am smart enough not to do so.  Instead, I scoop
Xandra into my arms and stand up.  “I will bring her inside,” I say, not
looking at anyone in particular.

“Kallen, please come into
the kitchen after you have seen to Xandra,” her mother says.  “Jim, you and I
need to take a little float around the house.”  I think he is going to say any
number of things about how he feels about taking a float around the house, but
he does not.  Smart man.  I do not think Xandra’s mother is in any mood to hear
it.

I carry Xandra into the
house and down the hallway to her room.  Laying her down on her bed, I sit next
to her for a moment.  She looks so peaceful.  There is still a light glow about
her as the magic settles in.  Her black hair against the pillow is silky soft,
and there is a tiny smile on her lips that makes me want to kiss them.  I push
a loose strand of hair from her cheek and lightly touch my lips to hers.  Her
smile becomes a little brighter, but she continues to sleep.  I have no doubt
in my mind now that she will be fine. 

So, it is time to face the
wrath of her parents.

Chapter 8

As I walk down the narrow
hall, I prepare myself for what is to come.  Xandra and I must be hand-fasted,
of course, after such a display of…affection in public.  In front of her
parents, no less.  I can still feel the euphoria that overcame me when she
began kissing me back.  But hand-fasting?  Am I ready for that?  I simply do
not know.  What I do know, is that I can no longer imagine a life without
Xandra in it.

The Angel is alone in the
kitchen and she is busying herself by searching the cupboards and
refrigerator.  I believe she is going to make lunch.  I hope I am still around
to have some.  Those little discs Xandra had me eat this morning were not at
all filling.  I walk to the table and pull out a chair.  I sit down and watch
the Angel as she begins cracking eggs into a bowl.  I do not believe she is
ignoring me; she is simply focusing on her task.

It is about five minutes
later when Xandra’s parents float through the back wall, startling me.  Again,
they really need ghost bells.  I stand up and say, “I would like apologi….”

That is as far as I get
before Xandra’s mother holds up her hand, cutting me off.  “That is not
necessary.  I am familiar enough with magic to know that powerful spells can
create havoc in our minds.”  Havoc is not exactly what I felt, but I will not
correct her.

I nod my head.  “Thank you. 
I understand that you will want to plan a hand-fasting…”

Again, I am interrupted. 
Her mother is taken aback.  “A marriage?  Whatever are you talking about?”

“In my realm, such actions
would lead to a hand…”  Apparently, the middle of my sentences keep
interrupting the beginning of hers.

“This is not your realm,
Kallen.  We don’t have such old-fashioned ideas any longer,” she says with an
amused smile.  I am about to say something when she continues, “But, that does
not mean that we condone such behavior.  If you are going to remain here with
us, a certain amount of decorum will be expected.”

I am not normally a
blusher.  In fact, I can count on my fingers the number of times I have
reddened as I am now.  And, all of them have been since I met Xandra.  I have
no idea what to say in response, so I sit down and do not say anything. 

Her father floats to the
chair next to mine and pretends to sit.  Without looking at me, he says, “I am
not used to being around magic.  It is difficult to understand its effects.”

I believe that is some sort
of apology.  A rhetorical one.  I continue to stare at a spot on the far wall,
and he does the same.  I know an uncomfortable truce has been formed once again
between us.

“Mother, how long do you
think Xandra will sleep?”  The Witch spirit floats to her mother’s side and
watches her fry up the eggs.

“I am not sure.  She is
reacting differently to the spell than I have seen in the past.”

“When I first met Xandra, I
made the mistake several times of underestimating the power of her magic, and
disasters followed,” I say to the Angel.  She sighs and ignores me.

“Kallen has a point,”
Xandra’s father says.  “If Xandra is the first to have the genetic makeup she
has, then wouldn’t it be wise to overestimate the effects of her magic than
underestimate them?”

The aroma of frying eggs is
filling the room, making my stomach rumble.  The Angel does not respond until
she has turned off the stove and placed eggs on two plates.  The toast she had
put in the toaster has popped up, and she places a piece on each plate, as
well.  “Yes, it is true that Xandra seems to react to things differently than I
have seen other…Witches.”  Insert the word Angel here to get her true meaning. 
“Very powerful ones have performed the spell without trouble.  I think that it
may be her Fairy blood that is causing something to go a little haywire.”

She does not even have the
decency to look me in the eyes when she says that.  My face is red for a whole
different reason now.  I am back to wanting to help a particular Fallen Angel
find her way back to her own place.  “I agree that there is something in her
blood that is causing things to not turn out as planned, but you and I both
know it is not her Fairy blood,” I growl, having a hard time staying in my seat
instead of throttling her.

The Witch spirit’s eyes capture
mine.  “What do you mean?”

I am about to tell her that
she will have to get that answer from her mother, the one who is now as pale as
a spirit, but the phone rings.  All eyes are suddenly on the small black bit of
plastic on the counter.  “Answer,” the Cowan spirit says.

“Where is my wife?” an angry
voice snarls.  I find this phone thing absolutely fascinating.  Yes, Fairies
have different ways of communicating over great distances, but none as
convenient as this.

“You haven’t had a wife in
over seventeen years, Sveargith.”

“You have walked right into
the devil’s trap.  Get out now, while you still can.”

“I can say with a rather
large amount of certainty, the devil does not take the form of a seventeen year
old girl.”  I bet she can.

“Athear, see reason.  Let me
get you out of there.  Come home, where it’s safe.”

“Why on earth would I want
to leave?  This is my first chance in over seventeen years to see my daughter
and get to know my granddaughter.”

“Athear, your daughter is
dead.  Do not be fooled by those spirits.”  The grandfather does not believe
his daughter is the spirit floating next to her mother?  How odd.

The Angel shakes her head. 
“You are a stupid old man Sveargith.  You know that our daughter’s spirit
remains.  And it is no wonder that she does with the likes of you out gunning
for her daughter.  Your granddaughter.”

“Athear, I am not going to
have this argument with you again.  I am on my way there.  I will pick you up
and we will get you somewhere safe while I and the Witan do what is necessary.”

“If you hurt one little hair
on my granddaughter’s head, you will regret it.”  The wrath of Angels is
legendary.  I can see why.  The fires of hell are burning in this Angel’s eyes
at the moment.  Even her daughter floats away from her.

The Witch King tries another
tactic.  “Honey, I know how desperately you have wanted to find Quillian all
these years.  But wishing something to be true doesn’t make it true.  Spirits
do not remain in this realm intact.  They are but shadows of their former selves,
and they are easily used as puppets for practioners of black magic.  The girl
and that Fairy she is aligned with are confusing you with these images.  You’re
confused.  Let me help you.”  The Witch is lucky he is not here in this room
with his wife.  I am convinced that she would kill him on the spot. 

“If you show your face here,
with or without the Witan, you had better be prepared for a fight.  And
Sveargith, you have only had a small taste of Xandra’s magic.  You will be
unpleasantly surprised if you go up against her again.”

“I am willing to take my
chances.  I will win this,” the Witch King growls.  “Even if that means I have
to drag you out of there and then destroy that house and everyone in it. 
Living or spirit.”  He disconnects the line.

My grandfather died long
before I was even thought of, but I am guessing I would have had a better
relationship with him than Xandra has with hers.  How can this man be so sick
and twisted?  I am with the Angel on this.  If he harms one hair on Xandra’s
head, he will regret it.

“Eggs?” the Angel asks me,
as if nothing has changed.

“Yes, please.”  She sets a
plate of fried eggs and toast in front of me and it is the best food I have had
since I came to this realm.  It is good to know that not everything comes in a
can or a box.  Everyone is quiet as the two of us with functioning stomachs eat
our fill.

When we are done, the Angel
reaches for my plate and brings it to the sink with hers.  “Julienne, where
might I find your herb box?”

“In the closet in the
pantry.”

The Angel opens the pantry
door and finds the box.  Bringing it to the kitchen table, she examines it,
picking up a piece of something here or there to look at more closely, and
sometimes to smell them.  She is attempting to figure out the potency of what
is in the box.  Most of these things have probably been left dormant for
several years, since its owner has not had functional hands to pick new ones.

After a few moments, the
Angel looks up at me.  “I am going to need a few things.  If I make a list, do
you think you could find them?”

“Yes, but I may need help
navigating the forest.”

“I’ll go with you,” Xandra’s
father says.  “I know where Julienne found most of this stuff.”

That will make things a lot
easier.  If he does not purposely get me lost in the forest to keep me away
from his daughter, that is.  As the Angel writes her list, I attire myself in
warm boots, jacket, and hat.  Handing me a piece of paper with more than a few
items on it, I walk outside behind the floating spirit.