by Jayne Hawke
The cait sidhe perched on the edge of the kitchen counter and very carefully applied jam to a scone that she had cut in half. Deep furrows had formed between her brows where she concentrated as she slowly slid the jam across the surface of the scone. Lifting it to her eye level, she assessed it before she smiled and took a bite out of it.
“I don’t like when the jam is uneven,” she explained.
That process seemed like far too much effort. I liked my breakfast to be easy to stuff into my mouth without any thought required. I wasn’t going to be capable of real thought until after my second cup of coffee.
“You know it’s blasphemy to eat those scones without clotted cream,” Cade chided as he strolled into the kitchen.
Kerry wrinkled her nose.
“Why would I put clotted cream on them?”
“It’s how they’re supposed to be eaten,” Cade said as he pulled the clotted cream out of the fridge.
“Says who? They’re my scones,” Kerry said grumpily.
“Says tradition and people with taste buds,” Cade said as he made a bee line for the scones.
Kerry glared at him.
“You are not ruining my scones with that cream,” she said as she scooted the box behind her.
“You are not claiming the entire box of scones. Hand two over,” Cade said.
He was wearing a black t-shirt with his pyjamas; I was beginning to wonder if he was allergic to shirts of another colour. Maybe I’d get him a nice blue one for the winter solstice and see if he got a rash.
Kerry narrowed her eyes.
“Go and get your own scones,” she said.
“Cat, stop being an idiot and give me two scones,” Cade said with a sigh.
Kerry muttered and grumbled before she plopped two scones onto a plate. Cade made sure she could see as he slathered a thick layer of clotted cream onto them before he added uneven dollops of blueberry jam. Kerry’s mouth was puckered into a miserable scowl, which only deepened when Cade took a big bite of the first scone.
“Now that is how scones are supposed to be eaten,” he said with a victorious grin.
Ethan had finally finished wrangling with the contract issue he’d been tackling. That left him free to sit down with the rest of us as we tried to figure out what to do about the fae bloodline that was being targeted.
“I vote we let the witches kill them. They have it coming,” Kerry said.
“We cannot let the witches exterminate an entire bloodline. A war will break out between the fae and the witches,” Ethan said.
“I still think they have it coming,” Kerry said with a shrug.
“I’m not disputing that. What they did to those witches was appalling,” Ethan said diplomatically.
“Do we know if the witches at least get the usual vampire benefits? Huge bank accounts, frilly shirts, perfect skin?” Dean asked.
I was very impressed with his even tone and straight face as he said it. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from giggling.
“Wait, do people just gain huge bank accounts when they get turned?” Cade asked.
“I think so? I mean they’re all rich. I think they wake up thirsty and then they’re given a big mansion, bank account, and a wardrobe full of frilly shirts,” Dean said seriously before he took a sip of his coffee.
“That vampire thing is looking up... can they turn cu sith?” Cade asked thoughtfully.
“You already have a large bank account and can buy multiple mansions if you want,” Ethan said.
“You can never have too many big bank accounts,” Cade said.
“He has a point,” I said.
“As I was saying... We need to decide what to do about the bloodline. They’re targeting mongrels as well as those of pure fae blood. I don’t believe we have any way to warn the mongrels, but we might be able to warn the purebloods. However, that provides its own problems. If word gets out that someone is targeting them, their enemies will send assassins and try to use the witches to cover their tracks. And of course, the higher ranking of the line will try and exterminate or control the witches,” Ethan said.
“So, we ignore the fae and focus on taking out the witches,” Dean said.
Ethan took a long drink of his coffee.
“I believe so, yes. We do, however, need to try and track down every member of that line within this territory,” Ethan said.
I bit back a groan. That sounded like tedious paperwork.
THIRTY-SIX
Tracking down the members of the bloodline was slow going. The fae didn’t put things like that online. There were no nice genealogy websites. That meant trawling through birth announcements and trying to get into the fae social media websites. Kerry was working on the social media while I slowly looked through the social-focused news websites.
Rolling my shoulders and uncurling on the couch, I decided I needed coffee, and maybe some of that wonderful dark chocolate Ethan liked to keep around. The rest of the pack were settled into their respective seats around the living room. Ethan had settled next to me, Kerry was in the armchair nearest the door, Cade and Dean were on the two-seater directly facing the huge TV. Everyone had just settled into their places as though we’d lived there for years.
I padded into the kitchen and began looking through the drawer devoted to coffee beans. I’d never seen such a thing until I’d met the pack. There was a huge range and variety there, and every coffee-producing country was represented. I didn’t think I’d tried more than six of them, each rich and incredible.
A soft tapping coming from the window near the sink big enough to sit in caught my attention. Looking up, I frowned at the window, wondering if a bird was trying to break in. To my chagrin, it wasn’t a bird, but our friendly neighbourhood assassin.
I crossed my arms and glared at the elf. He have a big sigh that made his shoulders rise and fall before he pointed at the back door. We kept the door firmly locked with numerous magical protections over the locks and doors. I made a shooing motion and returned my attention to the coffee while hoping he didn’t have another dead body with him.
The tapping resumed. This time from the back door. He stood with his arms crossed and a stubborn expression painted on his face. I wasn’t going to get my coffee until I’d sent him away.
Ethan came into the kitchen to investigate as I reached the back door. A deep growl formed in Ethan’s throat. He moved protectively behind me. I wished I’d kept the Aphrodite witch gauntlet closer on hand. I was still adjusting to using it at all. My knives and daggers were second nature, but this could turn out to have been a good chance to practice with the unfamiliar weapon.
Unlocking and opening the door, I glared at Sin.
“I want to join your pack,” Sin said simply.
“We’ve been through this. There is absolutely no reason for us to allow you into our pack,” Ethan said flatly.
Sin tilted his head slightly.
“That’s what you do. You take in the misfits and vagabonds. The one in plaid was on death row because he killed his lord, the one in black was rejected from all of the other packs for being too soft. And the cat...” He smirked at Kerry. “Well, she ran out on her bonding.”
A deep growl came from Kerry’s throat. I hadn’t noticed her behind me until she growled. Damn cats and their stealth.
I looked around at the pack, my pack, and realised I’d never asked about their pasts. The idea of Cade being too soft was absurd, wasn’t it? He’s was certainly the gentlest of the group, but he’d ripped out throats without an apparent second thought. And what was Kerry’s bonding supposed to be?
“And you think that means I’ll allow you into this pack?” Ethan asked.
“Yes,” Sin said.
Dean snorted.
“We’re a pack of death workers,” Dean said.
I tried to keep my face neutral, but a frown tugged at my mouth. Was I a death worker?
Ethan squeezed my hand while focusing on Sin.
“How exactly is an elf
assassin not a death worker?” Sin asked.
“The answer is still no,” Ethan said as he shut the door.
“I will still watch over you,” he shouted to me through the door.
I didn’t know if that was the type of protection I wanted.
“I want to know everything,” I said as I put some coffee beans from Brazil into the grinder.
“There’s not much to tell,” Dean said.
“You were on death row...” I said over my shoulder.
“And Ethan saved me. End of story.”
I wasn’t sure how much to push. It clearly wasn’t a pleasant story.
“Dean killed his lord after he was found to be abusing and trafficking in shifters. As a son of the Morrigan, I have more sway than other cu sith. I saw great potential in him and brought him into my pack. The other packs didn’t see Cade’s strength. He was smaller than others his age, and they saw his quiet demeanour as weakness. I knew better. As for Kerry-” Ethan said.
“As for me,” Kerry cut him off, “cait sidhe are frequently bound to a fae house or family. We are supposed to take their dead and dying to the other side. Of course, fae don’t die all that often, so we have a lot of free time. I’ve heard that some cait sidhe are given great freedom, and others are revered. I was treated like a dumb beast and servant. I got sick and tired of it and ran. Ethan brought me into the pack, thus taking over my bond. As much as I might poke fun at the hounds, they’re my family, and I’ll never forget what they’ve done for me.”
“I don’t regret what I did.” Dean turned to face me. “I’d kill that bastard again in a heartbeat.”
“And I’ve proven the other packs wrong,” Cade said with a grin.
There was a weird warmth that spread through my chest as I realised they were just as broken as I was. We had an understanding, and that made me feel even closer to them. They were my pack, and we were screwed up misfits together.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Our focus had re-centred on the witches. Dean was in the kitchen preparing a huge dinner while the rest of us were digging for what information we could find. I was looking through Mom’s grimoires, trying to find anything of use there. She’d made comments and mentions of the witches before. Ethan, Cade, and Kerry were trying to find out where the witches were.
I wanted to know why they had started now. The date in Mom’s book suggested that they had been created, or changed, not long after I was born. That meant they had lain low for twenty-four years. Chewing on my bottom lip, I flipped through the thick cream pages of the grimoire looking for further notes on the witches.
There was a lot of information and philosophy surrounding the nature of magic and blood magic in particular, which kept drawing me away from my main search. Mom thought that magic was somehow alive and vaguely sentient. I couldn’t entirely disagree with her, given the trouble my god magic gave me. I’d put that down to it coming from the fallen god, from Dad, but that would have meant that he was screwing with me. Wouldn’t it? My head ached just trying to dig into the details of something like that.
I found another mention of the witches near the end of the first book. Mom said she had found out the exact experiment and ritual the fae had done to forge the witches into the blood witches they were. I still refused to think of them as vampires. It looked as though the fae had lied to the witches and told them that the ritual would bring out their own natural ties to magic, thus giving them better access to the normal witch magic. By the time they realised the lie, it was too late.
The ritual sounded brutal. The fae had slaughtered and sacrificed a total of five people, three of them young witches. The witches themselves had been forced to drink the blood before they endured what Mom believed to be an incredible amount of pain where their very essence changed.
“Do they sleep in coffins?” Cade asked.
I blinked and it took me a moment to realise what he was talking about.
“No mention of coffins in the grimoire,” I said.
“I suppose this is the modern era. Even vampires have to enjoy a good bed,” he said ruefully.
I wasn’t entirely sure if was screwing with me or not.
Returning to the grimoire, I saw that the ritual wasn’t ended there. The fae had done a second ritual that allowed them to reach inside the witches and twist their inherent magic. One of the witches had died during that ritual. Mom said she thought the rest of the witches wished they’d died along with her. There was a small note wondering if other witches had endured this and failed before.
It was a fascinating and horrifying read that hadn’t told me anything that I really needed to know. Continuing my search through the grimoire, I moved onto the second book. That held a great number of ritual circles and explanations. I was about to move on to the third when I saw something about witches again.
It looked as though the coven had been driven to ground. Other witches and supernaturals could feel the nature of their magic and drove them away because of it. The witches had gone looking for help, but everyone had turned them away. Mom thought that the magic would evolve over time and allow them to hide their nature. She had some notes about how blood magic is at the very heart of life and death magic, and that makes it more malleable.
I wondered if that was why they’d waited so long. They’d been working with their magic to change and understand it. At first, they’d been terrified and desperate for help, but over the years as they were turned away that turned to bitterness and a need for revenge. Once their magic was strong enough and settled, they felt they were ready to take down the one who had done that to them.
“How have they been hiding their need for blood?” I asked.
“We’re looking into that. There must be a trail of bodies, given the entire coven needs blood,” Ethan said.
“They could have willing people. It’s a common thing in vampire lore, desperate people who adore vampires and are happy to be fed on. If the witches promised they’d be turned at some point, I can see humans falling for it,” Cade said.
The thought made me ill and sad at the same time. I couldn’t imagine being so eager to find some meaning and a place in the world as to turn myself into a walking piece of food.
“That would certainly make it much easier to hide their trail of blood,” Ethan said.
“The humans could be able to help us find them, then. There has to be places where that type of person hangs out. The fae mongrels might be involved, too, so many of them are pushed to the fringes of society,” I said.
“Very true. Unfortunately, it’s difficult for us to get any answers on something they might be hiding, being what we are,” Ethan said.
“Tell me where to go, and I’ll talk to them, then,” I said.
Ethan frowned at me. I could practically feel the protectiveness rolling off him.
“We’ll see what we can find,” he said noncommittally.
I glared at him and prepared to remind him of my kick-ass abilities.
“We don’t want to waste time and energy on a dead end,” Ethan said gently.
I reduced my glare. He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t weak. If I needed to go into the dangerous places, then I would do so with my head held high.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Dinner was, as usual, a feast. Dean had taken it upon himself to cook multiple ducks, complete with plum sauce, spring rolls, and handmade pancakes.
“Where will we find the humans involved with the vampires?” Dean asked as he piled his plate high with spring rolls.
I wanted to, but I didn’t waste my energy on arguing that they weren’t vampires.
“Don’t forget the fae mongrel angle,” Cade said.
“They’ll be in the rougher parts of the city. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in Storm, that club near the wall,” Kerry said.
I grabbed the last of the prawn spring rolls before Kerry could. She already had six or seven on her plate.
“Kit would never blend in at a club, especially one like Storm,�
� Matt said with a grin.
“Hey! Why wouldn’t I blend in?”
“You’ve never been to a club...”
“And you have?” I challenged.
He smirked at me.
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t know why he felt the need to hide things like that from me. It wasn’t as though I’d judge him. I wanted him happy.
“I could blend in at a club,” I said.
“We don’t know if the club is a good call yet. It might be easier to deal with the fae mongrels,” Ethan said.
“They’ll talk to me,” Matt said casually.
“No,” Kerry and I said in unison.
“You said yourself you hate fighting,” I said.
“And I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to anyone who hurts you,” Kerry said.
Matt held up his hands, giving Cade a chance to steal some of his duck.
“Ok, fine. I still don’t think Kit’s a good option. No offence, but look at her.”
“What exactly is wrong with me?” I said as I guarded my food.
“Nothing wrong, you’re just not the clubbing type,” Matt said with a shrug.
“As I said, the club might not be the best option. We need to consider the other places where the outcasts might congregate,” Ethan said.
I wrinkled my nose at the word outcast. It wasn’t wrong, but I hated it. There were some groups of humans that couldn’t find a place within society. Some of them hated supernaturals and wanted nothing to do with them, others just didn’t fit for whatever reason. The mongrels, however, were actively pushed out of society. Most of the supernaturals took great pride in their pure bloodlines, and mongrels went against that. The fact that the fae had created them didn’t matter at all to them.
A law had been brought in while I was a teenager to make it that any fae who produced a mongrel was responsible for said mongrel. They would be tied to the parent’s bloodline and anything they did would go against the parent’s name. Suddenly, the fae were absolute experts at contraceptives, and the rate at which mongrels were produced plummeted. There were still a few where people were too drugged up to really think, but rumours were that the fae paid off the non-fae parent and sent them far, far away. That was assuming the non-fae couldn’t be convinced to terminate the pregnancy.
