Blood Bargain

by Maria Lima

  But today is fucking hell. This isn't what he'd bargained for those few years ago when he'd crossed the river to find work. Lucky for him—at least, so he'd thought—he'd found a job right away. He'd had to travel a ways north, nearly two hundred miles. Border crackdowns weren't helping any. Did help that he knew English, though. Priests were at least good for that and the foreman at the ranch seemed to like it.

  He shakes his head again hoping his brain would. Wait—is that a light in front of him?

  "Hello?” His voice disappears into the matte black. Nothing. He must be imagining things.

  He sniffs, his nose beginning to run. Damn it. That shit had been way too harsh. Either that, or he'd have to cut back. He can't remember the last time he'd started a day without a little pick-me-up. Life as a ranch hand sucked, but there were compensations. It felt so damned good while he was doing it, but his body felt worse and worse when he crashed.

  A big sniffle reminds him that he didn't even have a pack of tissues. A quick swipe with the back of his hand helps the runny nose. Shit. That wasn't snot. That was blood. He doesn't need a light to figure this out. He can smell it. Can sort of see it in the grey half-light of the cave mouth.

  The wind picks up and drives the rain further into the cave. Damnation. He crawls a little deeper into the cave, around the first bend. It's darker here, but dry. Good thing it was here. For a minute there, after he'd fallen from the cliff, he thought it was all over. But the drop wasn't too bad and the rain made the ground muddy enough that he only sprained his ankle a little. Still, how fucking stupid.

  He wipes his nose again, smears blood across his face. Disgusting. It's not a full-fledged nosebleed yet, but it's working its way there.

  He blinks as the not-light seemed to flicker in the distance.

  "Hay alguien aquí?"

  The darkness seems to suddenly grow darker, all ambient light from the overcast day extinguished as if a sudden night had fallen. Immediately, the passage narrows, its walls seemingly inches from his face. He reaches out, needing to lean against the cave wall but can't feel anything in front of him. The coffin-sized space suddenly becomes endless, a bottomless, wall-less expanse of pure blackness, sucking away all light, all sound, all—

  What the hell is that?

  Eyes. Those are eyes.

  Bats? No, too big. They look like...

  I gasped, suffocating in the dark pressure, my mind whirling with flickering images. Rough matted fur scraped against my face, my neck. I turn my head, needing oxygen, needing ... I coughed, grabbing onto my brother, fingers grasping at fur. His side moved. Still alive. I tried to rise up, to figure out what happened. Another breath and the darkness slammed me again.

  * * * *

  I came to, groggy and with a headache the size of well ... Texas, and wrapped in the utter darkness of the cave mouth. Evidently, my flashlight was dead, missing or broken. Damned visions. At least this was a useful one, showing me Alex Robles had indeed been in this cave and had seen something that spooked him. Being in this small dark space was enough to spook me.

  Whatever had triggered the vision, this one was different from the others: fuzzier, less distinct. Could be he'd been here long enough ago that the essence, or whatever, had faded.

  "Tucker?” I called out, feeling around the cave floor. Nothing. I got to a crawling position, trying to figure out the best way to deal with this. My brother (I hoped) was still in here with me, maybe unconscious, but here. Niko was still outside, but he couldn't come down to help. I couldn't see a damned thing, not even a lighter darkness so I could determine the direction of “outside."

  "Niko?” I raised my voice. “You still out there?"

  No answer.

  How long had I been out? Was it dawn? Niko might have had to escape the sun or maybe it was still dark and he'd gone to get help ... or maybe he couldn't hear me. It wasn't a great leap forward to assume that whatever wreaked havoc on me and Tucker could also block us in here and block all sound getting out ... not to mention light. My kingdom for a freaking match or Zippo so I could find the flashlight. If I'd been smart, I'd have brought in the lantern with us. Smart was obviously not my middle name today.

  I patted the floor around me. Dirt, loose rocks. Seemed like the same place I'd been in, so I hadn't been carted off by unknown cave magick. My head throbbed, as if a thousand tiny steel drum bands pounded out a calypso beat in my brain. Fucking hell. “Tucker, damn it, you better not be gone.” Or be dead. I did not want to think that thought. No way.

  Crawling forward bit by bit, I eventually came to a wall. I'd probably traveled all of five feet. Hard to tell in near-sensory deprivation. If I concentrated, I could hear my own breathing and something that might be my brother. I sure as hell hoped it was him and not something else.

  Keeping my right hand on the wall, I slowly rose to my feet. Was it smarter to try to walk the circumference and eventually find the outside opening or keep crawling? I had no freaking idea. Oh shit, maybe I'd hit my head harder than I thought. My cell phone was in my pocket. I fumbled for the phone and flipped it open. A green glow illuminated the cave area nearest me. At least it was something. No signal, though, so I couldn't call. Waving the phone around, I tried to locate Tucker.

  There, a few feet away to the upper right of where I was. A foot. A human foot. Tucker had managed to shift back.

  Using the phone, I made my way over. Thank goodness, there was the flashlight. I picked it up and flipped it on. Blessed, blessed light. I shut the phone and put it back in my jeans pocket.

  "Tucker,” I said, patting his arm, his shoulder. “C'mon, snap out of it.” I shook him a little. “Tucker?"

  A muffled groan turned into a mumbled curse. “What the hell?” My brother rubbed at his eyes. “Are we still in the goddamned cave?"

  "Bingo.” I sat back on my heels. “I tried calling for Niko, but got no answer. I don't know if he's gone for help or what."

  "Here, give me a hand up."

  I put the flashlight down, and reached for my brother, catching him under one arm and helping him to sit.

  "Ouch,” he complained. “Damned rocks."

  I chuckled. “Yeah, well, being naked in a cave might be non-conducive to comfort, even for you, big bro. I can go out to the car and get you fresh clothes, but I vote we get off this damned island."

  "I'm one hundred percent behind that.” He got to his knees. “Except..."

  "No, there is no except,” I said. “We get up, go to my car and leave this horrible place. Then, when our dear great-great-grandmama gets back home from Vancouver, I will call her and ask her what the hell she meant by creating this fucking ward so that we keep getting zapped by it. I've had enough of this, Tucker. Honestly, I'd figured you would've, too, what with all the non-planned shapeshifting."

  "We came here to see if we could find any evidence of Alex Robles,” Tucker said, rising to his feet.

  "Oh, no worries. Been there, done that,” I replied. “While you were sleeping, I got another round of smell-induced visions. Alex was here, all right, cranked to the gills and wasted out of his mind. He fell from the overhang, sprained an ankle."

  "You saw this."

  "Yeah, full living color ... more or less."

  "Meaning?"

  "This one wasn't as sharp as the previous ones. Not my standard Change-O-Vision near-HD quality.” I thought about it a moment. “You know, it felt different somehow, more like watching a grainy several-generation deep VHS copy. Not as much of a full-fledged immersion vision as those I had before."

  "Huh.” Tucker scratched his head and looked around. “So where'd he go?"

  Damn. Where had Alex gone? He obviously hadn't climbed out through the deadfall. The growth and debris there was way more than three months worth. I sincerely doubt he'd climbed up the overhang. It was possible, if you were a really good rock climber, but without gear and as much under the influence as he'd seemed in the vision, plus with a sprained ankle, I doubted he could have climbed over a pe
bble, much less up fifteen feet of limestone in the dark.

  "Well, hell,” I said. “I don't have any clue."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  "You think he went further into the cave?” Tucker grabbed the flashlight from me and shone it to the back, towards the tiny, tiny hole. Well, okay, not so tiny, but still, really small.

  "I'm thinking he must have,” I said. “Otherwise, his remains would be right here. Maybe he got stuck?"

  "It's a possibility."

  I took the flashlight back and shoved at my brother. “So, go check it out."

  "You want me to go down there?” Tucker asked. “Seriously? Have you looked at how narrow that hole is? Definitely not recommended for naked spelunking."

  "Tucker, really. Don't go inside, go to the edge, stick your head in,” I said. “See if you can smell anything. After this long, it's likely to be bones and such, but you could probably tell."

  Tucker shrugged. “That's a fact.” He ambled over to the entrance, placed both hands on either side and leaned in ... or tried to.

  "Uhm, Keira,” he said.

  "What is it?"

  "I can't get in there."

  "I'm sorry, what?” I moved closer, pointing the flashlight in the direction of the cave entrance. “What do you mean you can't get in? Stick your head closer."

  "I can't.” Tucker stepped back. “It's like there's a barrier."

  "Hang on, let me look.” I peered past my brother, but didn't try to cross the threshold. “I don't see anything."

  "I didn't say I could see it.” He sounded cranky.

  "Okay, okay, keep your britches ... never mind, you aren't wearing any.” I stepped to the edge of the opening and shone the light down. The floor sloped downward at a steep angle once past the narrow doorway. From this angle, it was hard to tell how high the interior ceiling was, maybe six or seven feet. Not utterly claustrophobia-inducing, but damned close. I turned away, intending to pick up a rock and throw it. A shimmer caught my eye.

  "What was that?” I whirled back to face the entrance, pointing the flashlight.

  "What was what?” Tucker asked.

  "That shimmer. Didn't you see it?"

  "Nope. Doesn't seem to be there now."

  "No, it doesn't.” I bent down, keeping my eye on the opening, and picked up a small stone, a couple of inches wide. I tossed it and it skipped merrily down the tunnel, disappearing around a small bend about ten feet down.

  "Huh.” Tucker frowned. “I swear, I could not put my head past that entrance. You want to try?"

  "Not really,” I said. “But if we want to find out if Alex Robles came down here, I'll go as far as stepping inside. How's that? Maybe Gigi warded this against you in particular—or maybe, against Kelly shapeshifters in general, seeing as how Rhys said he and Ianto used to come hunt out here. Those two are as bad as ten-year-olds, poking their noses in places they shouldn't. It could be dangerous down there and Gigi wanted them to stay out."

  Tucker laughed. “That, sister mine, is a distinct possibility."

  "Okay,” I said. “I'm going in and taking the flashlight with me. I'll step in a couple of steps or so and, if all's well, I might go as far as that bend, to see if by chance I see Alex's remains."

  "I'll wait right here."

  I reached a tentative hand towards the opening. No resistance, no barrier. Flashing a nervous smile at Tucker, I braced myself and took a step through. A flashbangflash of light and it went dark.

  * * * *

  "You came. You heard me calling you.” The mellifluous voice chimed in my ear. I rubbed my eyes.

  "Damn it,” I said. “Did I black out again?” I blinked against the bright white light. Where the hell was I? Inside a cave, it seemed. Rock walls glistened with pyrite and other shiny bits. Above me, stalactites hung way above my head, not close enough to be menacing. Where was all the light coming from, though?

  A melodic chuckle made me turn my head. To my right stood a tall, slender figure, dressed in shimmering white robes. Silver-grey hair fell from a high forehead, over its gown, past the knees. Androgynous to a fault, its steel-grey eyes looked at me as it asked, “Are you hurt?” The voice was soft, musical even, but I could feel the sharp edge behind it, as if listening too closely could cut you.

  "Tell me I'm dreaming or having another vision.” I put my arm over my eyes and started to count to ten.

  "No vision, Keira Kelly,” it said. “You are indeed here."

  I sat up, then stood. Well then. Not so imposing after all. We were nearly of a height, it was a few inches taller.

  "You know my name?” I crossed my arms. “Who the hell are you and why did you bring me here? Wherever here is.” I opened my stance a little, squaring off, giving it a bit of Kelly attitude.

  "This is our place, our home. You are kin. I called and you came.” It looked at me with a neutral expression on the pale smooth face. Even with my enhanced senses I felt nothing, could sense nothing. No, not a vision, definitely.

  "Your place, my ass. This land belongs to Adam Walker.” Not exactly, but I wasn't about to split hairs. What I knew of the Sidhe other than my not-so-pleasant childhood memories could fit inside a very small thimble, but one thing I did know: Land ownership conveyed a hell of a lot more than it did for human land contracts and I wasn't about to concede ownership.

  It nodded. “So it is the Walker who now inhabits the surface. He is one of the blood-drinkers."

  "He is. And you?” I didn't relax, staring into eyes the exact same color as mine. I knew what it was, not who.

  "Not a blood-drinker.” The words were said with distaste, the speaker's mouth pursing as if to spit out the very thought.

  "No shit,” I said. “Sidhe don't drink blood, they take souls."

  I squinted against the sudden flare of brightness. It was as I'd thought; the light came from it as well as from the glowing walls. Flashes of red-orange chased through the clear white shine. I guess I'd pissed it off. Good. I wasn't in the mood. Tucker was probably yelling on the outside of whatever the portal was that I'd crossed.

  "Let's not play games,” I said. “Who are you? What clan? Why did you bring me down here?"

  "We did not bring you,” it said. “You came. We called you."

  "Excuse me?” I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Called me? How?” I looked around. “And unless you have a mouse in your pocket, who the hell is ‘we'?"

  "You are kin. We called. You came."

  "Seriously, I have no—"

  A whisper insinuated itself into my brain. “Here ... come ... here..."

  "That was you? You're the one fucking with me."

  "A crude statement but yes. It was I."

  I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off its face. “You had no right. The energy barrier, the energy that hit us outside, that was you, too."

  It nodded. “I apologize. I meant for you to come alone. Your brother's presence intensified the warding and it had an unfortunate side effect on both of you. Had you come alone, you would not have been affected."

  "Oh, gee, glad to hear it. Now, why the hell did you want me to come here?"

  From somewhere behind, a figure stepped forward, allowing me to see it ... no, him ... clearly. This was no Sidhe. I knew this face, who was—oh fuck. I knew him.

  "Greg Pursell?” Dressed in robes similar to those worn by the Sidhe, the young man looked no different from the ten-year-old photo his stepmother had shown me earlier today. A young twenty, still nearly beardless. His eyes, however, told another story, holding sorrow and knowledge beyond human ken.

  "Yes.” He spoke in a soft tenor, voice not nearly as musical or other-worldly as the Sidhe, but not quite human.

  "I saw a photo of you today, taken about ten years ago, right before you disappeared. You look exactly the same."

  The Sidhe, who had yet to identify itself, began to speak. Greg placed a hand on its arm. “Please, let me explain to her."

  It nodded and stepped back.

&n
bsp; "It was my dad,” Greg said. “You say that picture was taken ten years ago?"

  I nodded. “That's what Bitsy told me."

  "Bitsy?” He looked puzzled.

  "Your dad's wife,” I explained. Oh, crap. If he didn't know of Bitsy, did that mean he didn't know about his parent's divorce and his mother's subsequent death?

  "Ah. So. I suppose my parents split up then."

  I nodded and took the coward's way out. No way was I about to tell him his mother was dead.

  "Then, well, eleven years ago, I was diagnosed with leukemia."

  "Not AIDS?” I broke in.

  "What? No. Why did you think that?"

  "That's what the rumor is,” I said. “That you were gay, sick with AIDS and that you went off on a caving trip and then went missing. Some people say your dad kicked you out of the house for being gay."

  Greg's laughed echoed throughout the chamber. “Gay, huh. Oh well. No, not gay, not that it really matters anymore. Not AIDS. I had a sense for fashion and I liked faeries ... this kind.” He motioned to the Sidhe. “I'm a bit of a nerd. Reading Tolkien, Charles de Lint, all sorts of fantasy tales. One night, after my diagnosis, I was sitting outside on the back porch at my dad's ranch, feeling sorry for myself and caught sight of a faery. At first, I thought I was hallucinating. Good pot.” Greg smiled. “Except I wasn't. The faery came up to me and started a conversation. I was out there alone that night. It was late. I told him about how sick I was. He told me about his world."

  "So you offered to come live down here?” Made sense if the leukemia was untreatable.

  Greg shook his head. “No, I didn't know that was possible. I liked the company. All my other friends stopped calling me when I got sick. As if I could make them sick, too.” He shrugged. “What can I say?

  We're all pretty self-centered when we're twenty.” Sometimes when we're a hell of a lot older, I thought as I looked at Greg's Sidhe companion. Did it—he—lure Greg here with the promise of eternal life, a sort of reverse-changeling?