Blood Sacrifice

by Maria Lima

  I fell back against the stair rail. This was going to be one hell of a something—were we really going to stay here for weeks? There had to be somewhere else in the area that could accommodate a couple of Kellys and their vampire lovers, right?

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Who is the leader of these vandals? I will tell you. They are encouraged by Evandalists!”

  —Sally Brown, Peanuts (by Charles Schultz)

  I found my room down the left hallway, just as Grace had said. No sign of Tucker or Niko, but the Do Not Disturb sign was hanging from their doorknob. Chuckling, I entered my room to find Adam deep asleep, curled up on his side on the left of the rather large king-size sleigh bed. The clock on the top of the tallboy said it was just half past one—still early. I could try to sleep, in the soporific heat, but even with the ceiling fan going at full blast the room was far from cool. The small window unit was doing its best, but it couldn’t overcome the weather. The disgusting heat wave still blanketed most of central and south Texas with little relief in sight. Was this horrific weather part of this curse? We’d had no rain in weeks, according to Tucker, and no chance of rain forecast in the near future. Had we brought this by our arrogance, by thinking that this land, so long under Kelly purview, would survive the Clan leaving and being replaced by yours truly and the vampire tribe?

  No, I couldn’t think about this now, couldn’t focus on something I had about as much chance of proving as a Millennium Prize Problem being proved by someone who didn’t understand higher mathematics. Maybe I should just lie down and try to relax. Adam and I could talk about this later… tackle that damned parchment again and perhaps make some progress in figuring out what we had to do.

  I quickly tossed my sweaty T-shirt and jeans into the hamper and wandered into the bathroom. A cool shower then a lie down would make things seem better, or at least, not worse. Adam stirred a moment, his eyelids fluttering.

  “Keira?” He sounded groggy.

  I quickly crossed the room and gave him a peck on the forehead. “Shh, love, I’m here. Going to shower first.”

  “Mm, ’kay.” He fell back asleep in less time than it took me to cross the room.

  A small window in the bath overlooked the back of the property. I pushed the curtains aside and peered out, curious as to what the inn backed up on. Nothing much out there but more dry land, some wilting shrubbery and a sad patch of what was probably once a fairly nice bit of lawn. A concrete pad extended below, about ten feet by twenty, just enough for some patio chairs and a couple of small tables—only there weren’t any. Odd thing. Most small inns had at the very least some picnic tables and the standard Texas limestone barbecue grill or even one of those oil drum grills. This looked unfinished, as if no guest ever ventured outdoors. Then again, I thought, if all the Rose Inn’s guests were supernatural—an educated guess on my part—perhaps the usual amenities weren’t needed.

  About fifty yards or so past the patio, a small stand of live oaks seemed to act as a dividing line. What was that back there, anyway? Small stone markers sunk into the ground at regular intervals, brown grass, trimmed to perfection, a small shed off to the right—wait—was that a cemetery? Huh. That was certainly different. Sure, we had an old graveyard on the Wild Moon property, but it had fallen out of use decades ago. Not uncommon to have older cemeteries on ranch properties, but we were in town here, though, admittedly a fairly old part of the city. San Antonio was established in the late seventeenth century, and this area was one of the first settled by whites. This certainly didn’t look like a modern cemetery. The stones seemed worn and some were broken—at least, from what I could see at this distance. The grounds looked fairly well tended. Perhaps I should go check it out.

  The sun glinted off something and I started and stepped back as a man appeared from inside the shed. He carried a hoe, its metal gleaming in the brightness of the afternoon. His movements were those of someone in pain, old and infirm. I couldn’t see his features from the window, as he wore a floppy straw hat. He was clad in loose-fitting chinos and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, worn sneakers on his feet. Probably the gardener. Oh well, time for my shower. I could explore a bit later, after the sun went down.

  After a nice long cool shower, I joined Adam in the huge bed. I’d barely fallen asleep when a pounding on the door woke us both.

  “Keira, Adam, wake up.” Tucker sounded upset. I rolled out of bed and scrambled to put on a robe.

  “What is it?” I asked as I flung the door open. Tucker’s hair was loose, flowing wild around his shoulders. He wore only a pair of boxers.

  “Carlton just phoned,” he said as he handed me my mobile. “Sorry, I think I put your phone back in my stuff by mistake.”

  “What is it, what’s wrong?” Adam joined us. He’d pulled on a loose bathrobe, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor.

  “Tucker says Carlton phoned,” I said.

  “I was half asleep when I answered,” Tucker explained. “Something about the old cemetery. I told him we’d call back.”

  “The what?” I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “The one out back?”

  “What one out back?” Tucker asked.

  “The cemetery behind this place,” I said. “I saw it through the bathroom window. Some old man was out there hoeing.”

  “I was not aware of a cemetery here,” said Adam. “Though admittedly, I’ve not been here in a long time.”

  “Well, from what I could see, that graveyard out there is at least a century old.” I motioned Tucker inside our room and shut the door.

  “I doubt Carlton cares about this cemetery,” Tucker said as he planted himself in an armchair. “He was talking about the one at the Wild Moon.”

  I shrugged, and hit the speed dial number for the sheriff’s office in Rio Seco. Yes, I still had it programmed into my phone. Not for Carlton, former boyfriend and now just friend, but as the local law. At the rate things kept happening in Rio Seco, it made sense.

  “Sheriff’s office.” A woman answered.

  “Daisy, it’s Keira Kelly,” I said. “Carlton asked me to call?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Keira?” The smooth voice of my former lover came on the line. “Where the hell are you?”

  Tucker rolled his eyes at Carlton’s question.

  “In San Antonio, why?”

  “I wondered. Is your… is Walker with you?”

  “Yes, Adam’s here. So’s Tucker. What’s going on, Carlton?” I sat on the bed. Adam joined me.

  “Last night, I got a report of someone three-wheeling or something up near the old crossroads, up there at the far end of the Wild Moon property. I figured it was some kids going on the conservatory land, so I didn’t think much of it. Sent Rudy out after lunch to take a look in case they’d torn down any fences or anything.” He paused a moment. “You’re not going to like this.”

  “I’m already not liking this,” I said, my crankiness coming to the fore. “Look, Carlton, I’ve had very little sleep and it’s hot as hell so could you just get on with it?”

  “Someone’s defaced the cemetery.”

  A chill ran through me. “Defaced how?”

  “Gravestones unseated, garbage all over the place, tags—you name it.”

  I handed the phone to Adam and closed my eyes. “Deal,” I said. I couldn’t. Not this time. I’d spent ages as a kid, keeping the place tidy, clean. Learning respect for the human dead, learning what it meant to not be human, to be a Kelly. I’d tidied, scrubbed, kept it up. Then a few months back, before I’d Changed, I’d found my cousin Daffyd there, living in a pocket of Faery closed off from the rest of his people. He’d been watching out for me, keeping an eye on me.

  “Larsen,” Adam said, his voice neutral. “How bad is the damage?”

  I could almost see Carlton scratching his head, his brown hair cut regulation short. We’d been lovers for a while, when I was much younger and more naïve, thinking I could enjoy caring about a human. He’d wanted to get married. We’d fought
and both of us left Rio Seco—him to San Antonio and the police department, me to London and the bosom of the European branch of the family. I’d met Gideon there. Met Adam. Perhaps it had all been meant. Who knew? In any case, this confluence of my former lovers and my current lover/husband/consort was getting far too insane for me.

  “Bad.” Carlton’s voice sounded bitter. “I haven’t done anything more than snap photos and try to cordon off the place as best I could. I’ve stationed a deputy there for now. I think you all need to come take a look.”

  “Tell him we’ll be…” I stopped before I could say we’d be there soon because, no, we wouldn’t—we couldn’t.

  “Thank you for the information,” Adam said. “Could you perhaps email Keira the photos? We’ll see what we can do. Do you have any leads?”

  “Not really. I’m guessing kids getting high, maybe gangs because of the tagging, but none of us here could recognize the tags. Hang on a sec.” I heard him fumbling with something and a beep or two from the phone on his end. “Texting you the pictures.”

  A moment, then there they were. Tucker and I crowded around Adam on the bed, so we could see the small screen.

  “We received the photos,” Adam said into the receiver. “I thank you for calling.” With that, he disconnected the call and the three of us sat silent as Adam thumbed through the photos.

  Two gravestones toppled onto the dry ground, one broken in two jagged pieces. A pile of something at the base of another stone. What was that? “Is that bones?” I asked. “There, at the base of that marker.”

  “I think so,” Tucker said. “Looks like fur and bones, of some small animal.”

  “Yes.” Adam’s thumb slid across the phone screen, another photo, more vandalized gravestones. Filth smeared across most of them, a few behind the first with some sort of symbol.

  “That is no street gang tag,” Adam said, tone solemn. He pointed to a small symbol. “That’s a Sidhe spell, a warespell of some sort.”

  “Warespell?”

  “It’s meant to be a channel, a way for Sidhe to see and hear what is happening in a place. Sometimes we—they—use bespelled stones or other objects. This marking turned that whole grave marker into a ware-stone.”

  “Then did the damage come because of the Sidhe?” Tucker sounded as confused as I felt. “I guess I don’t understand the logic behind this.”

  “Nor do I,” Adam said. “Someone spelled the marker, but I do not know if this was done before the vandalism or as part of it.”

  “Could’ve been a red herring,” I said. Both men gave me a questioning look. “You know, like when someone fakes a robbery to hide something else they’ve done.”

  “Only a real vandalism to hide what?” Tucker asked.

  “Spells, as in plural spells.” Adam stood abruptly and tossed the phone on the bed. “Get Niko up,” he commanded. “We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Renew. Regroup. Rethink.”

  —Motivational Poster

  Tucker wasted no time in exiting our room. I shivered despite the heat, my body reacting to what I knew now was danger with a capital Magick and Mayhem. “This isn’t good.”

  Adam shook his head and began to dress, pulling on a pair of lightweight cotton slacks. “Far from it.” He rummaged around in the tallboy and pulled out a folded T-shirt. Black, just like the trousers. “Get dressed. We can discuss this downstairs.”

  “What, in the full glare of the afternoon sun?”

  A pair of bike shorts landed on my lap along with a tank top. “I am fully aware that it’s still day, Keira,” Adam said.

  I threw off my robe and dressed. “I know that, Adam. Sorry for the snark, but…”

  “There’s a basement room,” he said. “We can get there down the back staircase. No windows.”

  “You do know this place well.”

  “I do.”

  I followed him out the door and to the left as he headed for the other end of the hallway, opposite the stairs we’d come up earlier. Servants’ stairs? Must be. “So, if you know this place so well,” I continued. “How come you didn’t know there’s a cemetery out back?”

  Adam started down the first step then turned. “I’ve used this as a place to sleep, nothing more. I’ve never seen the grounds.”

  “Oh.” With that, there really wasn’t much more to say. Why was I getting so sarcastic and stupid? What Adam had done before we were together meant little to me. I mean, I knew he and Niko were paired for centuries, lovers for a long time, and family even longer. I didn’t care about that. Maybe it was just this place, so full of whispers of the past, of restless spirits.

  We descended the stairs in silence, past the opening to the kitchen, past the sounds of the women chattering, down another flight into gloom. A carved wooden door stood at the bottom, stained dark with age, its carvings intricate and very obviously done by hand. A weak lightbulb illuminated the landing. I peered at the carvings. “Angels?”

  “Yes, angels, devils, saints, and sinners,” Adam said as he pulled open the door. “This used to be the chapel.”

  He stepped through the silent doorway into the darkness beyond. I followed.

  The cool of the room came as a blessed relief. Inside were several benches of some sort, up front, a table? Adam reached the front of the room and flipped a hidden switch. A few dim overhead lights sprang to life, illuminating wooden pews and an altar. Well then. “I take it ‘used to be’ is a heck of a lot more recent than I thought,” I said.

  “Yes.” Adam ran a hand down the edge of the wooden altar, its rounded edge smooth and shiny. No fancy embroidered cloth covered it as it sat naked on the slightly raised dais. “I believe the sisters still use it regularly.”

  “It’s not consecrated?” No duh, I thought. Or else Adam wouldn’t have been able to enter the room.

  “Sacred, but not consecrated,” he said. “No cross, no trappings of man-made religion. It was once blessed, but no longer.”

  “Just a quiet place to pray.” Niko’s voice came from behind us. “I’d forgotten this was here.” He smiled a little and, like Adam, ran a hand down a pew, as if remembering, savoring thought and memory by touch. “It’s a good place.”

  “Where’s Tucker?” I asked.

  “Charming the ladies,” Niko chuckled. “Your brother thought it would be good to get food. I don’t think you two have eaten in a while, have we?”

  “Good idea,” Adam said. “We may be here for quite a bit.” I had to agree, it was a good idea. I hadn’t noticed until now, but I was famished. I think the last actual meal I’d had was sometime yesterday evening, before I’d dolled up for our Reception. I’d grabbed a protein bar this morning while organizing the final exodus with John, but that was about it. I knew that Adam hadn’t fed properly, either. We’d been too wound up with preparations and the little blood shared as part of the ceremony hadn’t been for nutrition but only symbolic. He’d fed a little before he left, but not enough to satisfy. I doubted that either Niko or Tucker had done any better.

  “Tucker filled you in?” I asked Niko, who’d pulled a pew to one side and positioned a folding table in front of it.

  “Yes,” he answered. “Here, help me, would you?” He motioned to another pew. “Could you bring that one over here, too? That way we can sit around the table.”

  I did as he asked. Adam stood silent, facing the altar. Was he praying? Thinking? Probably not the former, as he, unlike Niko, had never been human, never followed a religion. Perhaps just contemplating our limited options.

  My first instinct had been to rush to the ranch as soon as it was dark, only we couldn’t. That damnable Challenge forbade it.

  “So, food’s on,” announced Tucker as he entered, bearing at least two laden trays, with a couple of jugs of water dangling from each hand. “Shall we eat and contemplate our imminent demise?”

  I laughed, unable to help myself. Only my brother. “Let’s shall,” I said. “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tonig
ht…”

  “Tonight,” echoed Adam. “We may die.”

  Food. Drink. Comfort, right? Only not today. Not this afternoon. The sandwich went into my belly like lead. The water sloshed down my gullet, chilling me. We ate in silence, the vampires drinking water and sipping on some blood wine that Tucker had packed. Better than nothing, but I knew that both Adam and Niko would have to feed—which meant Tucker and I had to eat as heartily as possible. I managed to chew through a hefty roast beef on ciabatta with a side of crudités. I knew I needed the nutrition, but I could’ve been eating week-old plastic-wrapped vending machine food for all I tasted.

  “This totally sucks,” I finally said, tossing the last bit of crust onto the tray. “What fucking choice do we have?”

  Adam looked up from some scribbling he was doing on a piece of parchment that had lined the serving tray. “At this point? Nothing.”

  “They’ve desecrated our land, Adam,” I began, my voice rising.

  “And we shall deal with it,” he responded. “I’m trying to figure out these symbols.” He pointed to the paper. “See this?”

  It was a squiggle topped by a slanted line and a few more lines bisecting it. “What language is that in? I recognize the Ogham runes, but…”

  “Ogham runes spelling out… hmm… seems to be some Latin words perhaps. Could be the Old Language, possibly a shortcut spell symbol.”

  “Possibly? Could you be a bit less vague?”

  “Hmm.” Adam murmured something I couldn’t make out, then bent back over his scribblings. “Can’t really,” he finally said, after retracing a symbol or two. “The photos the sheriff sent weren’t clear enough. He concentrated on the destruction, not the symbols. Probably thought they were just scribbles.”

  “Or gang tags,” I said.

  “We’re going to have to go there, aren’t we?” Tucker asked.

  “If we wish to decipher these spell markers, yes.”

  Niko’s eyes widened. “But the Challenge restrictions—”