Faerie Blood

by Angela Korra'ti

  We parked as close to Mama’s as we could and dashed at top speed to its entrance. The foul weather had hurt their Friday night business; many tables were empty, and no one else waited in the foyer for seats. Before one of the staff came over, I took the time to borrow Jude’s cell, a bulkier and more battered model than Millie’s, and call Aunt Aggie to let her know we were safe. That done, I murmured to Christopher, “By the way, I’m glad you’re here.”

  A bit of amber faded out of his eyes, turning them a purer green, and the faintest flicker of a smile crossed his mouth. “So am I,” he said.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jude’s beatific smile. But her expression reverted to straight-faced business the instant I looked at her directly, and all she said was a deadpan, “So when you’re about to eat dinner at a Mexican restaurant with an Unseelie Elvis impersonator, are burritos or fajitas called for?” I snickered and was glad of the chance, because magic necklace or not, I was past nervous and right on into scared.

  Which, of course, was why I’d told Elessir to meet us at Mama’s. The food was good, but the local color was better, especially since they didn’t match in the slightest. Given who we were about to meet, the dozens of old pictures and kitschy souvenirs from the fifties, sixties, and seventies were particularly apt—because every last one of them featured Elvis Presley.

  One of the waiters pointed us at the table we wanted, and as we headed for it Christopher leaned over to whisper to me, “Picked this place on purpose, then?”

  “It’ll either stroke his ego or get his goat,” I whispered back. “Either way, should be fun to see how he reacts.”

  Elessir a’Natharion waited for us at the table, occupying a seat on one of the benches that lined the walls and cradling a margarita glass in his fingers with an elegant grace that befitted the finest crystal. Jude sucked in a breath at the sight of him, and I realized that she hadn’t seen any of the Sidhe since Millicent had given her that ointment for her eyes. So she had to be getting the full impact of his tapered ears, gleaming skin, and jewel-blue eyes. Tonight he was dressed slightly more upscale: white short-sleeved sport shirt with a turned-up collar, white slacks perfectly fitted to the long, lean legs stretched out under the table. And, crowning the pompadour that somehow avoided looking ridiculous on him, a black yachting cap.

  From head to foot, despite the rainstorm, he was absolutely dry. And the moment he saw us, I knew he wouldn’t rise to the bait I’d set him by choosing this meeting place. His eyes glittered as they swept over my wet frame. “I see the weather’s still lively. Good evening, Miss Thompson,” he said smoothly. Then his attention slid to Christopher and Jude, especially the latter, as he appended, “And friends. Do sit down.” Lithely he rose from his place on the bench, gesturing for us to join him.

  Jude’s jaw had dropped, and she pulled it back up only when I pinched her shoulder. “Chair,” I mouthed at her. She shook herself, and then circled the table to take the empty place on the bench, next to Elessir.

  I didn’t like the dazzled look on her face or her seating choice. But then again, I wasn’t eager to sit next to the Unseelie singer myself, so I settled for the chair facing him, which Christopher pulled out for me. At any other time in any other place I’d have been surprised and pleased, and told him so; here and now, I didn’t dare take my eyes off Elessir for an instant.

  As I sat down the pendant grew hot against my skin, until I half-expected it to start glowing through the fabric of my shirt—and to catch the Unseelie’s eye at any second. But Elessir was studying Christopher, who still stood at my side, and a different fear gripped me. Would he be able to tell what Christopher was?

  And more importantly, that Christopher was vulnerable?

  Putting on what I hoped would be the best poker face in the history of time, I said to Elessir, “Thanks for agreeing to meet us on such short notice.” As I spoke I poked Christopher’s side, and took the chance that he’d get the hint. Sit down, you. He did, but grudgingly, taking the chair across from Jude.

  Only then did Elessir resume his own place. “No, Miss Thompson,” he said, his every word resonating like a bell cast from purest cordiality, “I should be thanking you for consenting to spare me some of your valuable time.”

  He flashed me an unnervingly beautiful smile. Caught between it and the richness of his voice, I found myself remembering his singing—and almost relaxed. My memory whispered of the sweetness of a Sidhe hand upon my brow and a Sidhe voice twining like a vine through my hearing, and of floating anchored by nothing but a pair of titanium eyes. That tiny part of my mind wondered if Elessir could set off the same floating within me. It wanted him to try.

  Then the necklace nipped at my mind, sharp and hard, and drove that dangerous wavering within me out of my consciousness. Only a layer of faint warmth all over my flesh remained, and suddenly Elessir’s voice was nothing more than a voice. I nearly leapt right out of my chair and kissed Christopher on the spot. His magic had worked. Score one for the home team.

  But I remained where I was, a lot more comfortable now behind my poker face. “You’re welcome,” I said, and wondered if I imagined the surprise in Elessir’s eyes at the nonchalance of my reply. “I’ll feel better about this little dinner date, though, if you’ll tell us what you want.”

  The Unseelie reacted well, I had to admit. He turned his charming smile around to Jude and Christopher, and the momentary surprise I’d thought I’d seen vanished beneath his poised veneer. “An introduction to your friends would be a proper beginning,” he suggested, “as I don’t believe we had the chance to get acquainted at the bar.”

  “Jude Lawrence,” piped Jude in a tone a little too friendly for comfort. I shot her a glance, wondering if she should be the one wearing the Warded necklace and whether I could kick her underneath the table, but I didn’t have to try. She shook her head as though to clear it, and took on a far more normal expression. “Not Judy or Judith, if you don’t mind; Jude.”

  “As you wish,” Elessir replied, before turning a quizzical eye on the Newfoundlander at my side. “And you, mortal?” he inquired, lifting his margarita up for another sip.

  “Christopher MacSimidh.” His expression and voice, in direct contrast to Jude’s, were harsh.

  Just behind his glass, the Sidhe grinned darkly. “Said like a man who’s been taught not to give his name to the scary, spooky fey.” When Christopher only glowered, Elessir darted his head forward and added, “Boo.”

  “Quit it,” I demanded, perversely pleased to see Elessir being aggravating. It made it easier to keep a stony face of my own while I strove to ignore the heat of the pendant in my shirt. “This is not getting me any answers!”

  But our waiter returned as I spoke, bringing three glasses of water, a basket of chips, and small bowls of salsa. “You folks ready to order?” he asked us cheerfully.

  Elessir lifted a slim finger to call a time out on the beginning of my interrogation, and then turned a guileless expression upon the young man ready and waiting, armed with notepad and pencil, to jot down our requests. Since the waiter was looking at me, I asked for the first thing that came to mind: basic beef tacos.

  The waiter then looked at the Sidhe. Elessir flipped into drawl mode and said magnanimously, gesturing at Christopher and Jude, “Go ’head an’ git these nice folks first.”

  In short, clipped syllables Christopher asked for the same thing I did, not once taking his eyes off the Unseelie singer. Even as he took Jude’s and Elessir’s orders, the waiter seemed unable to take his eyes off the Sidhe as well; as he walked away he sneaked one last look, shook his head, and mouthed ‘Nah’.

  As long as the waiter was in view Elessir pretended not to notice, but his gaze turned devilish as soon as we were alone again. I smirked at him. “You milk this Elvis thing for all it’s worth, don’t you? Do you hang out in Burger Kings in Tennessee?”

  Elessir gave me a broader, darker grin. “No,” he said, the drawl switching off, “but I almost caused
a riot last time I went to Graceland—you should have seen the staff when I got onto the second floor. Should I be flattered you’ve done your homework on me?”

  “I wouldn’t be,” I said bluntly. Nothing the Warders had told me in email had been flattering, to say the least. “And I still don’t buy that you look that much like Elvis Presley. You’ve got to be pulling something magical.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve made disparaging remarks about my appearance. It might lead me to believe you find it objectionable. Would you prefer I resemble someone else?” Elessir’s gaze slid meaningfully to Christopher. “Him, perhaps?”

  Christopher snapped with withering disgust, “For God’s sake, we came here for this?” But a betraying, all too visible blush reddened his cheeks, stretching past his ears to the back of his neck.

  “Come now, don’t be modest,” the Sidhe crooned, surveying the mortal male in unrepentant merriment. Then he dropped his voice to a confiding velvet murmur, casting a sidelong glance at me. “You haven’t yet explored the possibilities with Miss Thompson? Perhaps she prefers tall, rugged mortals with accents.”

  Now it was my turn to blush, though I hoped my color hid it, and I added a scowl for good measure. “This is not helping,” I interrupted, hoping he’d back off before Christopher started throwing punches across the table—or I did. How the hell had he picked up on an attraction I was barely starting to acknowledge myself? It had to be a lucky guess, or else he was just being an asshole.

  I hoped.

  The mischief in Elessir’s sapphire eyes dimmed a bit at my tone. He studied me critically—and for an instant, to my alarm, his gaze dipped along my shirt. Anyone else I would have suspected of stealing a look at my breasts, but I was a lot more worried that Elessir might sense the necklace. Keep scowling, I commanded myself, and hoped with all my might that if I pretended there was nothing to look at, he would look somewhere else.

  He quirked one eyebrow, which made him resemble a cross between Elvis and Leonard Nimoy, and then he met my eyes once more. “A thousand pardons,” he said, and though I read no such thing in his expression his voice became contriteness itself. “You are correct. Having asked you to meet with me in the first place, I am most remiss to have failed to explain my purpose to you at once.”

  I kept my answer short and expectant. “I’m listening.”

  “As I mentioned to you before, I am here on behalf of my Court to discuss matters of… shall we say… mutual interest.”

  “This means what, exactly?” I demanded, lifting both of my own brows in unspoken answer to Elessir’s little one-browed quirk—and squelching the voice in the back of my mind that fretted over whether I’d pick up that same quirk as part and parcel of the Faerie blood package.

  The singer chuckled, low and rich, a sound that hit my ears like the aural answer to finely aged Scotch. “It can mean a great number of things,” he said, “but tonight, it means that I am authorized by the Queen of Air and Darkness herself to extend to you an invitation to become one of us—to join our Court.”

  Christopher smacked the table with enough vigor to rattle the ice in the water glasses, then jabbed a forefinger at Elessir. “You can’t tell me the Unseelie fuckin’ Court’s so desperate for new blood they’re trawlin’ for halfbreeds now!” I’d never heard a man snarl before, but Christopher snarled now, his accent surging up like a squall. What I saw in his eyes nearly made me pull him and Jude out of the restaurant right then and there: rage, and behind that, terror.

  I grabbed Christopher’s arm, but before I could speak Elessir inquired, cool air against the Newfoundlander’s fire, “And if I were to inform you that such is in fact my very intention?”

  “Kendis is half-human! The Unseelie can’t want her!”

  Elessir’s upper lip curled into a sneer that might have been part of his Elvis impersonation if not for the disdain that turned his eyes to dark azure frost. “She is also half fey,” he replied, “with the blood of the most powerful Seelie mage born in a recent age. I assure you, Mr. MacSimidh, we are most interested in Miss Thompson.”

  Aggravation that Elessir pronounced Christopher’s last name correctly flared through me; it seemed wrong somehow, like an intrusion or an insult. But I pushed it back and shook Christopher’s shoulder hard. It took him effort to tear his attention off the Unseelie—but he looked at me as I blurted out his name.

  His eyes scalded me in green and gold, but I kept my hand where it was. “I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I breathed. “Can you trust me on that?”

  Tell me yes! I found myself hoping Christopher would somehow hear that thought, maybe through the current of energy that kept crackling between us. I thought of his smile, and of the anticipation of playing music for him. Maybe even with him. With all else that I’d discovered in the last two days, I needed this man who could kindle a hearth fire within me with one smile to pick up on my silent plea. I need you to tell me yes!

  Christopher stared at me hotly for what seemed a minor eternity; then, though his eyes remained molten amber, some of his fury drained from his face. “Yeah,” he whispered at last.

  He wasn’t visibly shaking, but his shoulder quivered like a plucked violin string beneath my hand—and prickled sharply. Had Elessir’s invitation set him off? Or something more? I desperately wanted to know, but now was not the time. So I squeezed his shoulder and said, “Then amp it down, big guy. For me.”

  “By all means, ‘big guy,’“ Elessir purred, “we’re all friends here. Let’s keep it neighborly.”

  Right then Jude spilled her water. I’d have thought it an accident if her glass hadn’t tipped over on the precise trajectory to spill right into the Unseelie’s lap, and if a smug little grin hadn’t popped up in the middle of her profuse apologies at the precise moment Elessir wasn’t looking. “I am so terribly sorry,” she babbled, thrusting her napkin at him and then grabbing his and mine for good measure. “I’m just the biggest klutz, I’m always spilling stuff, Kendis can back me up on this! I am just so, so sorry!”

  “Think nothing of it,” Elessir said through gritted teeth. It takes phenomenal urbanity to maintain one’s poise with a lapful of ice water, and though he’d claimed to be over nine hundred years old, apparently the Sidhe had not yet perfected his. Just enough good old-fashioned pique to give him away darkened his eyes. The sight perked me up enough that I helpfully waved down our waiter, begging him for extra napkins.

  Christopher settled back in his chair, taking his time before holding out his own napkin. “In the name o’ bein’ neighborly,” he rumbled, eyes glinting with an irony that almost matched Elessir’s.

  In the middle of this storm of confusion the food showed up, giving me a bit more time to figure out how to address the Sidhe’s invitation while we got the plates arranged. Then I looked Elessir square in the face and said, “So, about your proposal, then: no.”

  The singer regarded me thoughtfully but did not pause in the act of bringing a bite to his mouth, and he took the time to chew and swallow before making his reply. “Might I trouble you for your reasoning?”

  “Easy.” The thought of Elessir with damp trousers was inordinately cheering, rather like how imagining your audience in their underwear is supposed to help overcome stage fright. I didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Not interested in working for the Dark Side, thanks.”

  Elessir’s other brow rose to join its mate. Then he glanced around the table, at Jude’s innocent expression and Christopher’s truculent glare, and at last back to me. “Ah,” he chortled, “is this where I’m supposed to say ‘Join me, and together we will rule the galaxy as father and son’? You seem like a cleverer girl than that.”

  “Are you saying the Unseelie aren’t the bad guys of Faerie?” asked Jude, seemingly raptly caught up in Elessir’s every word. I hoped she was faking it. The stunt with the glass suggested she was on top of things, but my friend had a suspiciously bright gleam in her eyes. With the Sidhe’s impact on me, not to mention what
I’d learned about the fate of my dad, any sign of overly warm attention to the singer was worrisome.

  Note to self: get Jude a Ward of her own.

  “Precisely, Miss Lawrence,” answered Elessir, constructing a fajita from the sizzling vegetables and tortillas he’d been brought. “Far be it from me to denigrate the Star Wars movies, but it’s rather juvenile to base a personal philosophy on a space opera, don’t you think?”

  “That’s rich,” I said, “coming from a guy dressed like he just escaped the set of Fun in Acapulco.”

  Elessir burst into laughter, an incandescent smile springing out across his face. “Touché,” he said, winking at me over his fajita as he took out a portion of it in several small, swift bites. Then he went on, “Nevertheless, my point remains. Opposing forces such as Jedi and Sith, man and machine, light and darkness, good and evil… they’re all simplified in cinema, condensed to two-hour servings an audience may take home and dissect to their heart’s content. In real life, such things are seldom simple.

  “True, Seelie and Unseelie have stood in opposition since long before your race began to measure time. But even those names, given us by your people, are simplified—Blessed and Unblessed Courts, indeed. Blessed by whom?” The Sidhe smirked as he swung his gaze around the table. “While I intend no offense to any religious beliefs you three might hold, my people have not found that human deities have the slightest interest in us.”

  Christopher’s brooding glower held fast as he grumbled, “Don’t even try to make the Unseelie out as good and decent. None of us are buyin’ it.”

  “Do try to catch up, Mr. MacSimidh,” Elessir retorted with delicately barbed patience. “You’re falling behind.”

  “Seelie and Unseelie are outmoded, black-and-white concepts in a world that exists in shades of gray,” I cut in. “We got that. Move on.”