Blood Thorn

by A. S. Green

  The dark-haired one had a thistle tattoo on his forearm, just like Alex’s. She suspected the bearded brother had one too.

  “Ainsley,” Alex said, rather stiffly. “I’d like to introduce my brothers, Finn and Callum Campbell. Finn and Callum, this is Ainsley Morris.”

  “The formal protocol,” said Finn, the curly dark-haired one, “would be for me to take a knee. But it would probably call too much attention, so I’ll just…” He stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Ainsley shook it. “Yes, let’s not make this any weirder than necessary.”

  Callum, the bearded one in the coat, smiled and offered his hand. Then they all slid into the booth, Callum then Alex on one side; Finn then Ainsley on the other.

  Ainsley glanced up, making eye contact with Alex directly across the table. He jerked his chin up in a gesture that was probably supposed to instill confidence.

  A waitress came over with menus, waters, and four shot glasses filled with what Ainsley guessed was whiskey. When the waitress left, Alex slid a shot in front of each of them.

  Ainsley looked up at him questioningly. “Drinking in the afternoon? I’m not sure my boss will approve.”

  “Shots of courage,” he explained. “We all need it.”

  Ainsley didn’t argue. Just like at Douggie’s, she took it down, then winced against the burn. The brothers’ glasses were already empty. Faint smiles touched the corners of Callum’s and Finn’s mouths, but they didn’t say anything. The silence was awkward at best.

  “These two,” Alex said, “they’re not usually so quiet.”

  “Sorry,” Callum said. “It’s just…you get an image in your head of someone, then when you finally meet them, it takes a second for your mind to adjust.”

  “You’re disappointed.” Ainsley was uncertain how she felt about that.

  “No!” Callum and Finn said together. Then Callum leaned forward, putting his hand flat on the table. “No. I didn’t mean that at all.”

  “What were you picturing?” she asked, but in her mind, she already knew. A queen would more likely look like Harper—taller, thinner, blonder…

  “Older,” Finn said.

  “Older?” she asked, raising her head.

  “You’re just a baby,” Finn said.

  “I’m twenty-one.”

  Callum smiled. “Our last queen, before she—” His eyes suddenly darted toward Alex. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them before Alex dropped his chin and Callum inhaled, continuing his point. “Orla was seventy when she died.”

  Ainsley blinked. When Alex had mentioned their last queen, she’d pictured someone more her age. “So you were expecting me to be gray, wrinkled, and brittle?”

  At that, Callum and Finn both laughed out loud, but Alex shut them up with a glance. “Like us,” he said, “our queens never grow old in appearance, no matter how many years they live. The life force they give to others resides in them as well.”

  “But…” Oh god. Alex had been wrong about her. She wasn’t a queen at all. She should’ve been relieved, but instead she felt a sinking sensation of dread. “I’ve been aging every year. I could show you pictures. This was a mistake.”

  Ainsley pulled out her phone to prove it to them, but Alex laid a reassuring hand over hers and lowered her phone to the table.

  “The physical aging will slow,” he explained, “then eventually stop, now that you’ve reached maturity.”

  Ainsley’s jaw went slack. A new revelation was dawning. This wasn’t merely about her helping his family. If Alex was right about her, very soon she wouldn’t be able to live in the real world. Ten years from now, people would notice she wasn’t changing. She’d be a freak of nature. First an enviable one, but later something for the medical journals.

  Her hand trembled as she reached for her water. Alex watched her closely, his eyes tense, assessing.

  “Hey,” Finn said, turning his body on the bench seat to face her. “It’s not a bad thing. You’ll always have a family with McKee and the rest of us, even after those that you love are gone.”

  Ainsley didn’t know who this McKee was, but Finn didn’t know the first thing about being reassuring. The idea of her mother’s mortality hit her like a shovel to the head. Her mother was everything, the only family Ainsley’d ever had. And now she was supposed to imagine a future without her in it? Her future was with a family of strangers whom she still couldn’t fully understand?

  “I’m sorry,” Finn said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s more than a little upsetting,” Ainsley said, then she looked up at Alex, whose eyes had gone softer than she’d ever seen them. “You never told me anything about this.”

  “I didn’t want to overwhelm you too soon,” Alex said, “but Finn’s right. You have a family with us.”

  Ainsley shook her head, disbelieving. She’d always wanted a big family, even older brothers. But what had happened to her life? She was a botany major. She was supposed to go to graduate school and become a Distinguished Fellow of the Botanical Society of America. Did they expect her to give it all up?

  “And we take care of our queen,” Callum added, which for some reason made Alex’s eyes go hard again.

  “Anything else I should know?”

  Callum and Finn exchanged a look. Apparently sensing her unease, Finn took a different tack, his tone suddenly and surprisingly light. “Well, you should probably know to talk slowly in Callum’s presence. He’s not that bright.”

  Finn’s body jerked beside her, presumably because Callum had just kicked him under the table. They were obviously trying to make her comfortable with this shift in topic.

  “Actually,” Callum said, mimicking Finn’s teasing tone. “Unlike Finn, whose greatest attribute is opposable thumbs, I graduated from Columbia.”

  “First in his class,” Alex added.

  Ainsley nodded thoughtfully and, despite her lingering concerns, played along. “I’m sure having a couple more centuries of life experience didn’t give you any sort of advantage over your classmates.”

  Finn chuckled. “I love it. She’s got your number, Callum.”

  Ainsley smiled, though her mind was still on the news they’d shared. She hoped that would be the last of the bombshells. She needed time to process.

  They ordered, and their food came. Ainsley watched as Alex and his brothers dug in. They looked so…normal…even though the food in front of them probably wouldn’t have been their first choice. She could still see in her mind’s eye the scene in the alley, and the bags of blood in Alex’s refrigerator.

  “What’s it like working for our brother?” Finn asked, shoveling in another mouthful.

  “Is he as bullheaded in the office as he is at home?” Callum added.

  Ainsley glanced at Alex, and his eyebrows rose, waiting for her response.

  Her eyes flicked to Callum, then to Finn. “Well…he is incredibly bossy.”

  “Maybe that’s because I’m the boss,” Alex suggested.

  She ignored him. “And I think he scares most of his employees.”

  Finn chuckled at that, but Callum asked, “Does he scare you?”

  “No,” she said, pretending to be more confident than she actually felt. “He’s all growl. No bite.”

  Finn and Callum roared with laughter, while Alex’s expression darkened. He undoubtedly heard the accusation in her tone. More than once now he’d made her think he was going to kiss her, only to retreat as soon as she moved to meet him.

  Girls got called teases all the time. Ainsley didn’t know what the male equivalent was, but the picture in the dictionary looked a lot like him.

  “Someone else called you growly once,” Callum said, turning to Alex. “Who was that?”

  “Ellen MacGreggor,” Finn answered. “That farmer’s daughter from Glenfinnan, back when we still lived in Scotland.”

  “Right!” Callum said, shooting a finger at Finn, then he turned toward Ainsley. “McKee was only twelve. H
e’d hide in the heather and pretend to be a wolf, just to give her a scare.”

  “I didn’t realize there were wolves in Scotland.” All Ainsley could picture were sheep and those caramel-colored cows with the shaggy bangs.

  “Not anymore,” Callum said. “The wolves were wiped out, much like us. But back then there were still a few. When the MacGreggor girl realized it wasn’t a real wolf, she chased McKee off with an iron rake howling, ‘Wanty bolt, ye growly loiter-sack!’”

  Callum chuckled in the telling of it, but Ainsley’s mind was stuck on his throw-away comment. They were wiped out, much like us.

  When Callum's eyes settled back on her, his expression turned serious. “Christ. What’s wrong?”

  “You were nearly wiped out?” she repeated, looking at the three male ba’vonn-shees. The thought of any species’ extinction was repugnant to her scientific mind. She understood how the world tied together; remove just one creature—no matter how tiny or rare—and the entire ecosystem was thrown off balance.

  “Sorry, Ainsley,” Finn said. “We assumed McKee told you about the state of our kind.”

  “Who’s this McKee you keep talking about?” she asked.

  Callum looked startled, then he glanced at Alex.

  “I’m McKee,” Alex said.

  Ainsley’s head jerked in his direction, a rush of distrust flooding her chest. “I thought your last name was Campbell.”

  “It is. McKee means son of fire. It’s said that the first chieftain of the ba’vonn-shees had red hair. It’s a nickname all the chieftains have carried ever since.”

  She let out a breath. She’d once wondered if he was the king, not being able to picture him taking direction from anyone else. Chieftain made even more sense given his Scottish roots. And if he was chieftain, did that mean that this Orla they mentioned had been more to Alex than just a queen? Had she been his wife?

  Those thoughts gave her an odd kind of uneasiness in her gut, so she focused on another question. “How were you nearly wiped out?”

  Another silent conversation passed between them. If they thought they were being subtle, they weren’t. Or maybe it would go unnoticed with someone else, but Ainsley could feel the tension in the air.

  “The English and their clearances ran the human highlanders off the land. Our—” Finn glanced at Alex who nodded, encouraging him to go on. “They were our primary food source, so when they left, we followed.”

  It was a lie. Or at least, it wasn’t the full story. Ainsley didn’t press it, only because she needed to confirm something else, for her own peace of mind.

  “But…when you say food source…you don’t kill people, right?” No matter how weird life had become, she couldn’t associate with murderers.

  “It’s not to our benefit to kill,” Callum said. “We’re more into sustainability. Usually.”

  Ainsley’s stomach turned at the memory of their other brother—Rory—in the alleyway, his mouth red with blood, and the familiar way in which he looked at her.

  Alex bumped his foot against hers under the table. “No one has to die, Ainsley, or even be hurt. You can help us there.”

  “That’s the thing… I don’t really know how to help you. Maybe if there was a manual.”

  “It’s not academic,” Callum said. “It can’t be taught. It’s simply a matter of nature. It’s who you are.”

  Ainsley glanced at Alex; he’d told her as much himself. His expression was soft, and his lips parted as if there was something more he wanted to say but he was holding himself back.

  Her eyes dropped to those lips, and something stirred deep inside her.

  The connection she’d felt toward him since the first time she’d heard his voice, it was like nothing she’d experienced before. Even when they were arguing, she felt his draw. But when he was being sweet and concerned, like right now, the draw felt more akin to compulsion than any simple physical attraction. She suddenly wished they were alone.

  “That’s it,” Finn said approvingly. “See? You’re doing it right now.”

  The sound of Finn’s voice snapped her out of her daydream, and when he nudged her shoulder, she flinched so hard she knocked the back of her head against the booth.

  “That’s enough,” Alex said. “You’re scaring her.”

  “I doubt it, McKee. She is really powerful.” Finn was leaning in now, closer than before.

  “We’re leaving,” Alex responded sharply.

  “Ainsley,” Callum said. “Would you mind waiting outside while we have a quick word with McKee? I mean Alex. Then the two of you can get back to work.”

  Alex look irritated, but Ainsley was happy for the excuse to get some air. She said her polite goodbyes and rose from the booth. Feeling the weight of not one, but now three pairs of eyes on her back, she headed out of the pub and onto the sunlit sidewalk. When the door closed behind her, the weight released, and she resurfaced, taking a deep gulp of clean, springtime air.

  12

  “Sorry about that,” Alex said as he met her on the sidewalk. “Are you ready to head back? We can take a shortcut through the park.”

  “Sure. But what was their assessment?”

  “Assessment?”

  “I assume they wanted me to step out so they could tell you what they thought of me.”

  Alex’s jaw clenched, something he did a lot around her, she’d noticed. “You hit a home run. What they wanted to talk about was their opinion of me.” He gestured toward the corner of the block. “Shall we walk?”

  Ainsley let him lead the way. He took her around the corner to a block entirely reserved as a public green space. A gravel path divided a small dog park from a picnic-recreation area as it wound through floral beds and man-made ponds connected by little streams.

  The daffodils and tulips were past their prime and summer’s colorful blooms wouldn’t appear for several weeks. The ground, however, was still bursting with life in the form of dogwood, purple crocus, bleeding hearts, and creeping snowberries. Ainsley couldn’t help but wonder, had it looked like this before she got there?

  “Nature does get some credit,” Alex said, his voice laced with amusement.

  Ainsley’s cheeks burned, and she muttered, “I wasn’t wondering if it was all me.”

  “You want to know what the limits are of what you can do, and what we would expect of you.”

  “Are you a mind reader?”

  “No,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching, “but I can feel your curiosity. It’s a nice feeling. Similar to when you’re feeling nervous. Not as powerful as when you’re angry, or when you’re—”

  He frowned then bent down at the edge of the stream where a small patch of fairy slipper was struggling to grow. “You see this?”

  Ainsley crouched beside him.

  “It has soil, water, sunlight…everything it needs from nature, but it’s not going to make it.” He looked over at her, catching her eyes, then his gaze dropped to her lips.

  Her face burned, and she looked down at the flowers.

  “Touch it,” he said. “Breathe on it. Just be beside it.”

  Ainsley knew what to expect. This wasn’t the first time Alex had put her to the test. But it still took her breath away when the fairy slipper’s stem began to straighten and the pink bloom lifted its head and leaned—not toward the sun, but toward her.

  “Just like this flower, my brothers and I are responsible for ourselves. But queens give us the ability to take advantage of what nature offers us.”

  He put his finger down to the water. A lady bug with a dislocated wing was floating on the gentle current. Alex rescued it onto his fingernail, then he raised his hand while taking Ainsley’s hand by the wrist and raising it even with his.

  The lady bug tottered from his finger onto her palm.

  Alex then closed Ainsley’s other hand over the top, encasing the injured insect.

  “Give it a second, then look,” he said.

  Ainsley drew in a breath. There was a famili
ar heat in her belly that rose into her chest, then shot down her arms. She uncovered the lady bug. But nothing had changed.

  She pouted, and Alex laughed. “Take another swing at it.”

  From somewhere behind them, Ainsley heard a man’s shout and a high-pitched metallic jingle, but the sound didn’t register; she was too concentrated on the possibility of healing the lady bug’s wing.

  She pursed her lips, which made Alex laugh, but this time the heat shot right into her fingertips, making them tingle. Ainsley uncovered the lady bug, and it flew away.

  She watched it go, then turned her head to look up at Alex when there was another loud shout far behind them and a solid weight hit her from behind, knocking her toward the stream.

  In a flash, Alex’s arms were around her, swinging her up into a cradle hold. He moved so fast, not even the ends of her hair got wet.

  Ainsley looked down to see a young, very enthusiastic German shepherd panting up at her, obviously wanting to play. Alex’s chest rumbled with a feral growl. The dog whined and lowered its head to the ground in submission.

  A man ran up to them. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry. I let go of his leash to tie my shoe. Usually he’s much better behaved.”

  “Go,” Alex said to the man, his strong arms tensing as he pulled Ainsley closer against his chest. “Now.”

  The man visibly shrunk. “Yeah. sorry. We’re outta here.”

  Ainsley didn’t have to see Alex’s face to know what he looked like, especially since the man wasted no time looping the leash around his wrist and hauling his dog away. She let out a breath as they disappeared around the bend, but Alex didn’t relax his grip.

  She looked up to find his face still masked with fury. “It was just a dog.”

  His intensity didn’t waiver. “And you are my queen.”

  Right. Her stomach flipped over. She was never going to get used to that.

  Alex set her on her feet, though she got the strong sense he would’ve carried her all the way back to the office if it wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows. His hand remained cupped around the back of her neck.

  Ainsley glanced down at the stream, looking for more lady bugs. “Do you think my father can do what I can do?”