Blood Sacrifice

by Maria Lima

  “Wait, you either?” I pulled away from Adam and joined Drystan. “How can that be? Didn’t the Tuatha Dé Danann fight the Fir Bolg? There had to be a Challenge issued then.”

  “My dear child,” he began.

  “Seriously, Drystan, stop calling me that. My name is Keira. Your endearments aren’t helping.”

  “Very well. Keira, then. The Morrigan and her battles are but ancient history to me. I was born less than two millennia ago during the time of the Rhufeinig.”

  “The Romans?” Tucker’s brow furrowed. “Then you and my clan chief are of an age.”

  “We are.”

  I glared at Tucker. How was that important? “Fine, whatever. Read this. I unrolled the parchment and handed it to Drystan. “See what you can tell us that we don’t already know.”

  He nodded and complied. I returned to my chair, Adam sat next to me, a parody of our side-by-side throne-type chairs in the Hall. Even Tucker and Niko had unconsciously (or consciously) completed the picture, each of them standing at our sides, ready to fight bear—or Sidhe kings, as the case may be. As I waited for Drystan to finish reading, I mentally explored my pissiness. Adam’s father hadn’t done anything really, other than stay out of the fray when we’d confronted Gideon earlier. In Faery, when we’d discovered Gideon’s bloodline and his heir status, Drystan had done little but observe. So like the Sidhe, sit back and watch the others fight, then scoop up the spoils. Only… Adam was full-blooded Sidhe, plus vampire. He wasn’t the type to sit back. Had he learned this from his vampire teachers? Or was I missing some key component of Drystan’s nature?

  “This parchment is heavily warded,” Drystan said after ten long minutes. “I can but read a few words, primarily those along the sides. They seem to be spells of concealment.”

  “How so?” I asked, suddenly more interested. “I’d not picked up on that.”

  “Some of the runes,” he said. “When taken separately, they are nothing more than words—oak, vine, Gideon’s lineage.” Drystan chuckled. “Though him referring to himself as the son of his mother amuses me.”

  “Yes, well, go on,” I prompted. “Unless that’s relevant.”

  “Only in that he has ceased to align himself with me,” Drystan replied. “It seems he expects nothing from me. From my people.”

  “Given up, has he?” I muttered. “Well, then.”

  “The runespells?” Adam asked. “Could you explain more?”

  Drystan pointed to a few places on the parchment. “There and there,” he said. “Come look.”

  Adam and I joined him. He pointed to a couple of illuminated runes, plain words surrounded by inked pictures of leaves, curlicues. “I guess it’s not just for pretty?”

  “No. It’s a spell,” Drystan explained. “This and this here.” Two runes tied together with what looked like thorns. “Alone, that would mean ‘Kelly’ and ‘blood,’ but with the thorn vine…” He straightened and turned, addressing all four of us. “This Challenge is spelled not only directly to you and Adam, but to be readable only to those who share Kelly blood.”

  Adam’s eyebrow raised. “I can read it because Keira and I share blood,” he said. “But you cannot read it?”

  “Precisely,” Drystan agreed. “I can read some of the spells, but not the primary text of the Challenge.”

  “Then we need Gigi,” I said. “None of the rest of us can decipher all of this.”

  “One word, Dau—I mean Keira,” Drystan said. “When I say ‘share’ Kelly blood, I expect the spell is quite literal.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Adam frowned and looked at the parchment. “Bloody hell.” He slapped the desk. “He’s right. He means ‘share,’ as in not a full-blood Kelly.”

  “But Tucker—” I began.

  “Tucker is pure Kelly, but he shares blood with us both and with Niko,” Adam said. “He is no longer precisely full-blood Kelly as the blood of others runs in his veins. He is bound to us. I share blood with you, therefore I share Kelly blood, as does Niko due to his bond with you and with Tucker.”

  “Damnation,” I exclaimed. “That bloody good-for-nothing weasel. Gigi’s not going to be of much help.”

  “I am truly sorry,” Drystan said. “I do wish to assist.”

  Adam nodded. “I understand, Father. Perhaps you could help another way.”

  “I am willing.” Drystan gave Adam a short bow, this one from peer to peer. “What did you have in mind?”

  “If my brother is dead set on staying in the so-called new world,” Adam said, “perhaps he could be persuaded to choose elsewhere.”

  “Yes,” I said, excited to have an option. “Drystan, there are hundreds of caves in the Southwest if Gideon’s dead set on this general area. New Mexico, Colorado, Arizona is full of them as are other places. You can create a door to Faery, can’t you? You are high king, after all.”

  “I can.” Drystan looked thoughtful. “Though, I dislike this place, this new world of yours. These lands are too raw, too rough. However, I could create a new door if I must. I would perhaps be amenable to creating a place for Gideon and his family if that is his wish and if this will assist you.”

  I’d begun to speak when without warning, Drystan turned and threw out his hands, a spark of angry energy flung away from him, splashing against the back wall of the office, tearing a slice of paint and drywall away, exposing the stud. “Centuries, for century upon century I have lived in a fair peace—at least a truce—alongside my Seelie counterparts within a country small enough to fit many times into this Texas of yours. And now, an errant son of mine chooses to begin what must surely end in war.” He stomped over to the wall and with a gesture repaired the rip he’d created. “Whatever Gideon wishes to accomplish by issuing Challenge, I cannot believe he is the instigator. This reeks of manipulation and collaboration. He is far too young to be this subtle.”

  And far too unlearned, I mused. Gideon was many things, but a work this convoluted meant he’d had help. My mother, surely. Someone else? I wish I knew more about the Seelie players, the courtiers who’d fluttered around Branwen, whispering, flattering. Not important enough to sit above the salt at the high queen’s table, some of them did rank in my mother’s own Court.

  Drystan continued. “I had thought wars to be things long past, a diversion no longer craved by us Sidhe royals. The modern world is too big, land too available for these kinds of disputes. Though many still prefer the old country that is by our choice, not set by any restrictive boundaries. In fact, one can almost say that our Courts live harmoniously—as unfriendly neighbors.”

  “You mean the kind that nod their heads politely in passing, but no one you’d invite to tea?” I said.

  “Unless forced to.” Drystan grinned. In a flash, I could see Adam in him. That handsome face, slightly different, broader and less sharp, but still, definitely Adam’s sire.

  “Then why do this? Why would Angharad allow this Challenge? Could she be unaware of it?” Adam eyed his father. “Could you ask her?”

  Drystan met Adam’s gaze with aplomb. “I could and I shall. From one monarch to another. If my son is indeed Challenging without the approval of his Queen—”

  “His queen?” What did he mean by that? “Has he pledged fealty to her?”

  “I can see other explanation,” he said. “He got her daughter with child. These are her direct heirs. Angharad may be a scheming bitch, but she would never allow her pups to stray far from her.”

  “Wait, but you accused Gideon of lying about the baby,” I reminded him.

  “I did, and I stand by it. Aoife is too far gone with child. Despite that, if Angharad claims the child as heir, as her own daughter stated, then there is only one explanation. Gideon swore allegiance to the Seelie Queen. In return, she gave him her daughter and the child to call his own. By extrapolation, Gideon is also an heir—at least until the child comes of age and if Aoife does intend to step aside. It is not the way of my Court,” he said, “but Angharad never
leaves the heirship in the hands of a mere child. When her daughter was young, your own mother was heir until Aoife grew to her majority. If what they said at the Reception is true, then my son, your cousin is now acting heir to the Seelie Court.”

  “Hell of a gift,” I said. “Angharad in the habit of handing these kinds of things out?”

  “A gift that will keep on giving,” Drystan chuckled, a twinkle of humor in his eye. “And no, she is not, but Gideon’s Change may have been the catalyst. My counterpart enjoys her power.”

  “Oh, now you know popular cultural references,” I said.

  He laughed. “Indeed. I have not ignored the world above entirely, my dear. On occasion, I find myself intrigued by its entertainment.”

  I shook my head in wonderment. What next? Disco dancing at Court? “So you’ll speak with her?”

  “First, I believe I shall attempt to speak with my son,” Drystan said. “And with his wife. If I can allow him to see the futility of this…”

  “Revenge?” I supplied.

  He nodded. “Yes, that, I suppose. From the little I know of him, Gideon is not above seeking to win over his brother. He tried me first, and I gave him nothing but an enjoyable life. He could have remained with me, Below, in my corner of Faery. It would not have been an onus.”

  “No, but then he wouldn’t have been able to lord it over us—over me,” I said.

  “Yes, well. You are correct. Perhaps persuading him will be fruitless, but I shall attempt to do so. If I cannot, I will venture back to Faery and request an audience with Angharad. While I am there, you all must abide by the Truce. You must act as if nothing can be done to stop the Challenge.” He faced me, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Keira, do not take this lightly. Challenges come with a great price, both from the one receiving as well as the one issuing.”

  “How so?”

  “Gideon had to tie this Challenge with blood and promise. I do not know what particular rituals he chose, as I cannot read the words, but the runespells alone taste of darkness. This is no idle threat, nor foolish endeavor. The consequences to him may be as serious as those to you.”

  I fell back into the chair I’d so recently vacated, a shiver running through all my bones. Gideon meant this. This wasn’t some sort of childish revenge fantasy of his. Not when he’d had to tie something equally precious to the Challenge. What in all the bloody hells had he begun?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Honor isn’t about making the right choices. It’s about dealing with the consequences.”

  —Midori Koto “The Samurai” (Highlander: The Series)

  “All we’ve got here is bad choice after bad choice,” I muttered as once again, I tried to reread the parchment. Damn Gideon and his obscene timing. Drystan had left nearly an hour before, hoping to track down his wayward offspring and get some answers. Not that I held much hope in that. After Drystan had refused Gideon’s blatant ploy a few months ago and had reconfirmed Adam as heir, I was sure that my cousin wouldn’t give Drystan any information.

  We were back to square one—leave or pay the consequences. No other wise words had revealed themselves in our further perusal. I’d tried a few spells I knew, even some I hadn’t really studied (with the help of Tucker). Still, the words remained as slippery as Gideon’s underlying motives.

  You think Odysseus had it bad with Scylla and Charybdis? I was flailing between dumb and dumber in my own options. “So if we leave, we’re golden, but then we have to send away our vampires, the people we’ve sworn to protect. If we stay, we’re breaking nine million stupid Faery rules that will quickly bite us in our respective asses. But we don’t know exactly what those bites will consist of. Nor are we sure what we have to do to get to come back.”

  Adam nodded, a solemn look on his face. “Basically.”

  I threw up my hands. “Just… ugh.” What in all the hells were we supposed to do? Frankly, the land didn’t mean that much to me in and of itself. I’d be happy anywhere as long as I had my family with me—and that meant Adam, Tucker, Niko, and the rest, including the vampire tribe. The only problem was ceding this place to Gideon. If he’d been anyone else, any other person, I’d be tempted. Hell, if Drystan had been on board with Gideon, I’d say take it and relocate, and then trust to Drystan to keep his son in check. Except there’d be no holding of Gideon’s reins on Drystan’s part now. Just how had my former lover conned my mother into jumping on his personal bandwagon and waving the “Gideon Rocks” flag?

  “Retreat, regroup, rethink.” Tucker stepped closer and put a hand on my arm. “Keira, it’s only smart to take advantage of this truce period. We’ve got five weeks. Let’s take the opportunity to figure out how we can succeed.”

  Adam agreed. “There is no point in making a final decision now. You know I’d willingly hand over the ranch to Gideon if it would make him happy. This land means little to me as such.”

  I smiled at him as he echoed my earlier thought. “Nor me,” I agreed. “But with Gideon, it’s never straightforward. Never just what’s on the surface… especially if my mother and her aunt are involved, but I’m willing to ride this out until it’s done. You?”

  Adam nodded. “Whatever you wish, my queen.”

  I smacked him lightly. “Quit that crap. We’re going to get enough of the formal ritual bullshit with this Challenge.”

  He threw me a smile. “As you wish.” Turning to Niko, he continued. “We can send the tribe back to the UK, get Andrea on the phone and make arrangements. Sooner the better.”

  “On it.” Niko turned on a heel and exited the room.

  “To the UK?” I asked. “What if we need them closer? It’s a good ten, eleven-hour flight from London back to Austin, then another hour here.”

  “A good point,” Adam said. “But I feel that they will be safer at my estate. This fight is not theirs.”

  I nodded. “True… yet, still…”

  “I know. Having our entire backup force gone from here is worrisome to me, as well. That said, should it come to a war, as my father fears, vampires versus Faery? Fangs against magick is not something I wish to see. It would be slaughter.”

  I shuddered as I envisioned the bloodletting. He was right. I turned to my brother. “Tucker, would you call Bea and Dixxi for me? I think they need to know what’s going on. Tell Bea I’ll call her in the morning.” I glanced over at the clock on Adam’s desk. “Shit, it’s well past the wee hours,” I said. “Closing on three. Better yet, don’t wake them up, Tucker. Send a text or email and I’ll make sure to call them later.”

  “Will do,” he said as he left.

  I let myself sag back down into a chair, my mind whirling with random what-ifs and how-comes. “You think we’re doing the right thing, Adam? I hate the idea of going through with the Challenge, but frankly, I’m scared shitless about the true reasoning behind it.”

  Adam drew closer, putting his arms around me. I shut my eyes, just letting myself absorb the comfort he offered.

  “We’re in a tough situation, Keira,” he whispered. “As I said, the land itself means little to me. You know I bought it so I could be near you. I’ve accomplished what I needed to.” A quick peck on the lips then he continued. “I realize it is different for you. You grew up here. These are your people, your realm, so to speak. Leaving permanently, ceding the Challenge now would be foolish. Until we know the consequences…” He let his voice trail off and pulled his head back, catching my gaze. “You have good instincts, my love. We stay nearby, figure out the Challenge and do our best to win.”

  “And if we don’t?” I voiced my deepest fear. “Losing to Gideon… will it mean our lives?”

  “Possibly,” Adam said. “The Challenge in and of itself seems far too vague on its surface. I need to know specifics. I’ve not had to decipher the Old Tongue in too many centuries and don’t wish to make a guess. My initial supposition would be that Gideon wishes to have the land and the door to Faery. However, merely wanting to call this place theirs is too stupid, too tra
nsparent a reason for all of this. My half-brother is ambitious, greedy. He wants something dark, something he doesn’t wish to expose now… not even to his bride, I’ll wager.”

  “You think?” I was being facetious, but Adam took the words at face value.

  “I do. I have no knowledge of why Angharad wed her daughter and heir to Gideon, since I am still our father’s heir. Gideon has no claim to the Unseelie Court. Nor do I know why Aoife would so easily give up her claim to the throne. If the Seelie queen were looking to unite Faery, to gain influence over my father’s Court, this seems a rather awkward way to do it.”

  “And awkward is the last thing the Seelie Sidhe are. Devious, yes, but awkward, never.” I kissed Adam’s cheek. He stood and leaned against the front of his desk, the very pose I remember so clearly from months ago, when I’d first entered this office. Now, instead of wondering what this amazing person wanted of me, I wondered how I’d ever made it this far without him—and how very lucky I was that we were together. Sure, I’d bet all the barbecue sauce in the entire state that if I weren’t married to Adam, weren’t blood-bonded to him, that Gideon wouldn’t have come up with this insane idea. At the same time, I wouldn’t give Adam up for the world.

  “Where do we go?” I asked. “You started to say something earlier about a place you knew?”

  “A small inn, near downtown San Antonio. It’s quite old. The proprietor specializes in our kind.”

  “Huh, that’s different,” I said. “Hadn’t heard of any place like that. A vampire inn?”

  “Not precisely. More of a place where those of us who are Other can stay, no questions asked. The owners are human, but part fey. There have been several seers in their family.”

  “That’ll work, I suppose. You, me, Niko, Tucker?”

  Adam stood. “Yes, I think just the four of us. Liz and the twins should return to the Kelly enclave in Canada. Be safer there.”

  “They’ll not like it,” I said, knowing my brothers. Rhys and Ianto may be less knowledgeable about Faery, but they’d met Daffyd, spent a little time in his company. “I think it’s going to be tough selling this to them.”