Blood Rite

by E.J. Stevens

  Blood Rite

  E.J. Stevens

  Blood Rite

  E.J. Stevens

  Published by Sacred Oaks Press

  Copyright 2019 E.J. Stevens

  All rights reserved

  Publisher’s Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Pronunciation Guide

  Pronunciations are given phonetically for names and creatures found in the Ivy Granger series. Alternate names and nicknames have been provided in parentheses. In some cases, the original folklore has been changed to suit the city of Harborsmouth and its environs.

  Ailinn: ah-lynn

  Aleya: uh-LEE-yuh

  Arachne: uh-RAK-nee

  Athame: ah-thaw-may

  Banshee: ban-shee (Bean Sidhe, Bean Sìth)

  Barguest: BAR-guyst (Bargheist, Black Dog)

  Bean Tighe: ban tig

  Béchuille: beh-huh-IL (Bé Chuille)

  Bema: BEE-muh

  Bheur: ver (like air)

  Blaosc: BLEE-usk

  Bogey: BOH-gee

  Boggart: BOG-ert

  Boitata: boy-TAH-ta

  Brollachan: broll-ach-HAWN

  Brownie: BROW-nee (Bwca, Urisk, Hearth Faerie, Domestic Hobgoblin)

  Bugbear: BUG-bayr (Bug-a-boo, Boggle-bo)

  Bwca: BOO-kuh (see Brownie)

  The Cailleach: kall-ahk (The Blue Hag, Cailleach Bheur, Queen of Winter, Crone, Veiled One, Winter Hag)

  Cat Sidhe: KAT shee or kayth shee (Faerie Cat, Cait Shith, Cait Sith)

  Ceffyl Dŵr: keff-EEL dore (Kelpie King, Ceff)

  Chir batti: CHEER bhut-TEA

  Clurichaun: kloor-ih-kon (clobhair)

  Cu Sith: KOO shee

  Daeva: DAY-va

  Demon: DEE-mun

  Djinn: JIN

  Draugr: DROW-ger

  Duergar: doER-gar

  Each Uisge: erk OOSH-kuh (Water Horse)

  Elphame: EL-faym

  Emain Ablach: EH-van ah-BLAH

  Faerie: FAIR-ee (Fairy, Sidhe, Fane, Wee Folk, The Gentry, People of Peace, Themselves, Sidhe, Fae, Fay, Good Folk)

  Fear Dearg: far DAR-rig (The Red Man)

  Fionn mac Cumhaill: FIN mac COO-will

  Forneus: FOR-nee-us (Demon, Great Marquis of Hell)

  Fragarach: FRAG ah roch

  Fuath: FOO-ah

  Gaius Aurelius: GUY-us aw-REE-lee-us

  Galliel: GAL-ee-el (Unicorn)

  Ghoul: GOOL (Revenant)

  Glaistig: GLASS-tig (The Green Lady)

  Gnome: NOHM

  Goblin: GOB-lin

  Griffin: GRIF-fin (Gryphon, Griffon)

  Grindylow: GRIN-dee-loh

  Gwarwyn-a-throt: GWAR-win-uh-THROT

  Gwynn ap Nudd: gwin-AP-need

  Hamadryad: ha-ma-DRY-ad (Tree Nymph)

  Harborsmouth: HAR-bers-MOUTH

  Henkie: HEN-kee

  Hippocampus: hip-po-CAM-pus

  Hob-o-Waggle HOB-oh-WAG-gul (Brownie, son of Wag-at-the-Wa)

  Hy Brasil: HY bra-ZIL

  Ignus fatuus: IG-nus FATCH-you-us

  Inari: i-NAH-ree

  Jenny Greenteeth: JEN-nee GREEN-teeth (Water Hag)

  Kelpie: KEL-pee (Water Horse, Nyaggle)

  Lamia: LAY-me-uh

  Leanansídhe: lan-awn-shee (Lhiannan Sidhe, Leanhaun Shee, Leannan Sìth, Fairy Mistress)

  Leprechaun: le-pre-khan (leipreachán)

  Loup garou: LOOP guh-ROO

  Mab: MAB (Unseelie Queen)

  Manannán mac Lir: MAH-nah-nahn mac leer

  Mauthe doog: MOW-thee DOO

  Melusine: MEL-oo-seen

  Mermaid: MER-mayd (male Merman)

  Merry Dancer: MER-ree DAN-ser (Fir Chlis)

  Murúch: mer-ook (Merrow, Moruadh, Murúghach)

  Nixie: NIX-ee

  Nuckelavees: NOOK-uh-LAY-veez

  Oberon: OH-ber-on (Seelie King)

  Peg Powler: PEG POW-ler (Peg Powler of the Trees, Water Hag)

  Peri: PER-ee

  Pixie: PIK-see (Pisgie)

  Pooka: POO-kuh (Phooka, Pouka, Púca, Pwca)

  Redcap: RED-kap (red cap)

  Roca Barraidh: ROH-ka BAR-rah

  Saytr: SAY-ter

  Selkie: SEL-kee

  Shellycoat: SHEL-lee-cote

  Sidhe: SHEE (see Faerie)

  Succubus: SUK-you-bus (male Incubus)

  Tech Duinn: tek DOON

  Tezcatlipocan: tehs-cah-tlee-poh-cahn

  Tir na nOg: TEER na NOHG

  Tir Tairngire: TEER TEARN-geer

  Titania: ti-TAY-nee-uh (Seelie Queen)

  Troll: TROHL

  Tuatha Dé Danann: tootha DAY da-NAN

  Tylwyth Teg: TILL-with TEEG (Seelie Court)

  Unicorn: YOU-ni-korn

  Unseelie: un-SEE-lee

  Vampire: VAM-pyr (Undead)

  Will-o’-the-Wisp: WIL-oh-tha-wisp (Gyl Burnt Tayle, Jack o’ Lantern, Wisp, Ghost Light, Friar’s Lantern, Corpse Candle, Hobbledy, Aleya, Hobby Lantern, Chir Batti, Faerie Fire, Spunkies, Min Min Light, Luz Mala, Pinket, Ellylldan, Spook Light, Ignus Gatuus, Orbs, Boitatá, and Hinkypunk)

  Ynis Afallon: un-NIS AH-fuhl-on

  Yue Fei: yweh-fay

  And, on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood,

  Which was not so before. There’s no such thing:

  It is the bloody business which informs,

  Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world

  Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse...

  —Shakespeare, MacBeth

  Introduction

  Welcome to Harborsmouth, where monsters walk the streets unseen by humans…except those with second sight.

  Whether visiting our modern business district or exploring the cobblestone lanes of the Old Port quarter, please enjoy your stay. When you return home, do tell your friends about our wonderful city—just leave out any supernatural details.

  Don’t worry—most of our guests never experience anything unusual. Otherworlders, such as faeries, vampires, and ghouls, are quite adept at hiding within the shadows. Many are also skilled at erasing memories. You may wake in the night screaming, but you won’t recall why. Be glad that you don’t remember—you are one of the fortunate ones.

  If you do encounter something unnatural, we recommend the services of Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective. Co-founder of Private Eye detective agency, Ivy Granger is a relatively new member of our small business community. Her offices can be found on Water Street, in the heart of the Old Port.

  Miss Granger has a remarkable ability to receive visions by the act of touching an object. This skill is useful in her detective work, especially when locating lost items. Whether you are looking for a lost brooch or missing persons, no job is too small for Ivy Granger—and she could certainly use the business.

  We can also provide, upon requ
est, a list of highly skilled undertakers. If you are in need of their services, then we also kindly direct you to Harborsmouth Cemetery Realty. It’s never too early to contact them, since we have a booming “housing” market. Demand is quite high for a local plot—there are always people dying for a place to stay.

  Chapter 1

  I smiled, looking out our loft window at the sun peeking from between the clouds. After days of rainy weather, Harborsmouth glittered as sunbeams hit the glistening buildings. Sparky would be able to go play in the park that had sprung up from our battle with the Wild Hunt. It had been days since he rode on Marvin’s shoulders or learned new pixing tricks from Hob.

  I scooped up the bowl of soggy cereal from the windowsill and walked it to our kitchen sink, one gloved hand absently reaching up to tug at the huge snarl of pixie locks I’d woken up with. I should be mad at Hob for teaching my kid to be a total rascal, but I was too damn happy. If you’d told me a year ago that the worst my nights would throw at me were hobgoblin pranks and dirty dishes, I’d have stabbed you.

  Glancing out the window at the glittering rooftops, my smile widened. It’s funny how things change.

  The city had settled into a new rhythm. Instead of being hunted by hellhounds, eaten by slavering water fae, or battling pyromaniacal imps, I was working simple, straightforward cases and coming home to my family. The fact that my new family included a gorgeous kelpie king and an adorable demon child made my breath hitch.

  How could I, Ivy Granger, daughter of the Queen of Air and Darkness, be allowed such happiness? How, after all that I’d learned and all that our city had been through, could I think that we’d ever be safe?

  The truth was, I didn’t believe it, not at first. I saw threats everywhere. But it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, right? At least, that’s what I quipped to Jinx so often, she threatened to have it stitched onto our wedding invitations.

  Yes, stitched. Jinx’s current obsession, beyond increasing our office’s efficiency and reminding me to eat, was embroidered linen invitations. I shook my head with a snort. My best friend was going overboard with wedding planning.

  Our weddings, plural.

  That brought a brief frown to my face followed by the inevitable goofy grin. The idea of marriage still made my skin itch, but it also made me ridiculously happy. I suppose that was the point, at least for what I still thought of as my human side. For the fae, such a union meant much more. In addition to happiness, a marriage oath was a bond that solidified alliances and guaranteed protection for my loved ones.

  It also would make my demon child—no, really, he had come from Hell and been trapped in a witch vessel that held a horde of fire imps, until Arachne had dropped the vessel and set them all free—a prince. Sparky, my adorable, floppy-eared, little guy, would become second in line to the kelpie throne, right behind his adoptive daddy, Ceffyl Dwr. I really hoped that Ceff knew what he was doing.

  Not that logic and faerie bargains were all that mattered. It did feel right to make Sparky officially family.

  Even Jinx bringing Forneus into our found family was beginning to feel like pairing peppermint with our chocolate, although I’d never tell him that. Our adversarial barbs had turned to a playful sniping that I’d miss if we got all mushy. Forneus had gone from enemy to really ancient older brother, the kind who puts spiders in your bed. Actually, it was the other way around. Maybe, Hob isn’t the only one teaching my kid to be a little trickster.

  I glanced over to where Sparky snored, curled up in the dog bed beside our tattered sofa. It was hard to believe he’d only come into my life mere months ago.

  Our family had grown. That scared me. Having so much to live for also meant that I had more to lose. The possibility of threats to Jinx, Ceff, Sparky, Hob, Marvin, Forneus, Galliel, Father Michael, Humphrey, Torn, Midnight, and especially Kaye now that my witch friend was vulnerable, kept me on high alert. I couldn’t let them get hurt again. And I sure as hell couldn’t lose them, any of them, ever.

  But after weeks of jumping at shadows, and months of running emergency drills and implementing new security plans, I’d relaxed my guard. I’d let myself be lulled by the new peaceful state of my city and the growing sense of contentment that came with the bonds of friendship, the bloodshed of allies, and the blossoming of a love so true it made my head spin and lips tingle.

  I’d started to focus on existing problems—solving cases, rebuilding The Emporium, fixing the hole Humphrey had put in our roof, and, Oberon help me, wedding planning—rather than worrying about the unknown. I’d stopped expecting new monsters to threaten our city and chewed on strategies to negotiate with the devils I knew. Heck, I even started thinking of some of my old enemies as, well, maybe not friends but potential allies.

  In other words, I was a fool.

  Chapter 2

  I left the loft, escaping the heap of wedding invitation samples for the familiar chaos of our detective agency. Private Eye’s offices were located beneath the loft apartment I still shared with Jinx, a situation that was becoming more and more crowded. The wedding planning samplers didn’t help, not that I’d decided on what to do about it. Ceff wanted to get our own place, but I loathed anything new, or worse anything old, so I remained at the loft with Jinx, Ceff, Forneus, and Sparky, and Humphrey on his perch on our roof.

  I waved to the gargoyle, who appeared to be a stone ornament to normal humans, and shouted, “how’s it hangin’?” before reaching for our office door. That raised a few eyebrows, but the low rumble of Humphrey’s laughter was worth it. I liked the kid and he provided an added layer of security that I appreciated. But I was also responsible for the gargoyle losing his home. The least I could do was let him roof surf until his home was repaired.

  I had inadvertently given Kaye her full powers back, corruptible power that twisted my friend into someone I hardly recognized. Magic is funny that way. It requires balance, and a price. I’d screwed up that balance and my friend had betrayed us, and together we blew up her spell kitchen, along with her entire occult shop. Humphrey, Hob, and Midnight had lost their homes, and Kaye was lost inside her mind.

  Losing oneself, becoming trapped inside your own head, was one of my greatest fears, right after losing any more of my loved ones. For me, it was a daily threat. The gift of psychometry is great for solving cases, but it has a steep downside. It’s what faerie magic and witch magic have in common—it’s all about the balance.

  My psychic gift was one of the reasons I was bothered by the heap of wedding samples that cluttered our apartment. How many people had touched those things, and under what circumstances? The threat of touching those invitations and being pulled down into a terrible vision kept me from going near that corner of the loft. At least, that’s what I told myself. There was also a tiny part of me that felt guilty for planning a happy future when so many still suffered.

  I would fix things. I would rebuild The Emporium, help Kaye recover, and find a way to bring my father home, for good this time, but first I needed to make enough money to cover contractors, my friend’s care, and deep research on breaking curses. For that, I took on the cases that nobody else would. To my surprise, I was damn good at it.

  Humming a tune from one of Sparky’s favorite cartoons, I opened the office door and entered Private Eye psychic detective agency. It was the smell that stopped me dead in my tracks, not that the skeletal face of the vampire sitting in our waiting room was much better. I nearly ran.

  “Corpse candle,” Sir Gaius said.

  Chapter 3

  I should have run. Listening to a dusty old vampire rattle on was torture. Not that bored was the prevailing mood. I don’t think it’s possible to be bored while gripping your blades so tight your knuckles audibly pop, even through thick leather gloves.

  Jinx flashed me a worried frown, but I shook my head. I was fine. Everything was fine. We just had to survive the mood swings of a master vampire who was massively pissed off, but who was also easily ensnared by the min
utia of his so-called harvesting rights.

  Every time Gaius said the word harvesting, I puked a little in my mouth. He wasn’t talking about crops or hay. What good would those things be to an ancient vampire? He was a slumlord with bony fingers in a multitude of properties around the city, including most of Joysen Hill, making him ridiculously wealthy and scarily powerful. But it was his treaties regarding blood and corpses that really got his dusty panties in a bunch.

  Gaius was working himself up again, pounding his fist hard enough to crack the cheap waiting room chair that sat to his right. I was keeping a mental tally of everything he touched, and damaged, so that Jinx could bill him later. No way was I touching anything Gaius came into contact with, but breaking our furniture was just plain rude. Old vampires, the truly ancient ones like Sir Gaius, usually kept a stronger leash on their emotions and honored the long-standing traditions of hospitality.

  Not today.

  The fact that Gaius was coming unglued over such a small matter either meant I was missing something here or he was beginning the final deterioration that took the extremely undead. Neither option was comforting.

  “…blah, blah, blah, legal MUMBO JUMBO!” he hissed.

  Okay, that’s not really what he said, but my brain was starting to shift into survival mode, focusing on the vampire’s tone and body language rather than his words.

  Gaius’ voice was beginning to rise again, gaining a sibilant shriek as his fangs elongated and he started to lose control of his anger. That was my cue. Jinx had been trying to diffuse the situation with lots of questions about the aforesaid treaties, a tactic that proved she was the brains of our little business, but that could only stall the vampire for so long. He was starting to froth at the mouth, a stomach-churning pink-tinged dust forming at the corners of his lips, a sure sign that we needed to end this, now, or at least get his attention off my tasty human business partner.