by Bekah Harris
Blood Tithe
The Lost Cove Darklings: Book 2
Bekah Harris
Published by Twisted Vine Press.
twistedvinepress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Bekah Harris
bekahharris.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
Also by Bekah Harris
Chapter 1
The Simerly twins had been playing with matches again.
Last week, they had caught the straw in the stables on fire, nearly burning Queen Rowena’s prized Palomino to death in the process. Now, Felicity had been yanked from a blissful sleep, barely having time to pull a fleece robe over her undies, because the little psychos had set half the mountain ablaze.
Felicity tore blindly through the night and skidded to a halt at the tree line, a rock poking into her bare foot, and faced the forest. Thick smoke engulfed her in a suffocating cloud. Nan stopped beside her, placing her hands on her knees to catch her breath.
“I’m getting too old for this,” she said, covering her mouth with a flowered handkerchief.
Felicity eyed the mountainside, which was lighting up the night with flames that lapped toward the starry sky, dancing and undulating with seductive heat as they spread among the dry trees and undergrowth. October was basically the worst month ever for the little devils to develop a fascination with matches.
Felicity’s lungs were fine, thanks to her Seelie blood, but the woodsy smoke was not so kind to Nan. Though she covered her nose and mouth, she was exposed to more smoke than Felicity was comfortable with. Ashes drifted through the air, blinking in the night like fireflies. The human volunteers poured in from the village and charged ahead of them, attacking the flames with hoses from an old school fire wagon pulled by a Clydesdale. Felicity did a double take.
A wagon.
Pulled by a Clydesdale.
This was the life the Lost Cove humans had chosen over the modern conveniences of the human realm, proof that there were some things she would never understand.
“What do I do now?” Felicity shouted. The heat from the flames was terrifying, like the devil himself was blowing his breath in her face.
Nan scooted closer, shouting over the chaos. “Concentrate on the elements. Focus on exactly what you need from them. Nothing else.”
As a Seelie Fae, Felicity had access to a bit of each special type of Court Magic—the frigid temperatures of Winter, the crisp air of Autumn, the heat of Summer. But what she needed now were the Spring rains.
Raising her hands over her head, palms toward the sky, Felicity closed her eyes, blocking out the roar of the flames. Nan had taught her to “find” her magic, to let it build inside her, before commanding the elemental power possessed by all Fae.
There.
Deep in her chest, where she locked away her most secret desires, Felicity felt the spark of it. Allowing it to fill her, it expanded from her chest with an electric tingle, her skin buzzing like a live current. Raising her head, Felicity called upon the clouds, imagining them moving across the sky to block out the moon and stars. A breeze whispered against her skin, causing her hair to whip around her face.
Not good. Fire plus wind meant more fire.
With her slow exhale, the wind died away.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and Felicity envisioned dark clouds filled with heavy moisture, expanding like a sponge. In her mind’s eye, she twisted the clouds like a wrung cloth, rain pouring over their small community.
At first, nothing happened. The rumble and crackle of fire broke through her walls of concentration. Fire had always freaked her out, and the thought of her flesh bubbling up from bone threatened to send her running away in terror. But Felicity was not a coward.
“Focus!” Nan shouted, coughing.
Pushing away the stress, the fear, Felicity imagined the rain once more, pouring from the sky and splatting in fat drops that would cool her heated skin. She conjured damp air that smelled like freshly turned earth and wet grass, the rain rushing from the sky in a perfect, unrelenting shower. The more she focused, the more powerful the image became until she felt one drop, then two. Finally, moisture poured from heavy clouds, shrouding their community behind a perfect curtain of heavy rain.
“That’s it!” Nan shouted. “Keep going!”
When Felicity opened her eyes, her arms were glowing a soft blue, lighting up the night like an electric lantern. The downpour soaked her skin and hair, attacking the fire that raged in the trees. A gully washer, as Nan would say.
Holy hellfire, I did it!
She turned toward the trees, pushing her hands toward the fire, willing the rain to fall in sheets that drenched the trees with a makeshift monsoon, putting the humans’ ridiculous archaic fire wagon to shame.
Like, seriously, what was even the point of that useless wagon?
She didn’t know how long she willed the power to flow through her; it was as if there was some sort of magical floodgate that had opened from the ground beneath her, flowing through her body, that connected with the clouds. The crowd of humans and Laltogs grew until nearly everyone in Lost Cove surrounded her, giving her a wide berth to work, while staring up in awe at the storm that beat down from above.
Eventually, the torrent suffocated the flames until they were gone, leaving behind fallen trees, charred wood, and the acrid smell of damp smoke that was sure to linger for days. Smoke hung in the air like a heavy mist, visible in the light of the moon, as the clouds slowly drifted apart. Taking a deep breath, Felicity raised her face to the sky, enjoying the cool feel of the drops against her skin, as she allowed the shower to linger for a bit just to make extra sure the fire was out.
When the smell of smoke lessened and the dampness increased, Felicity exhaled slowly, just as Nan had taught her, allowing the electric energy to fizzle out until it was gone.
When Felicity opened her eyes, Nan had removed the handkerchief from her face. She stared open-mouthed at Felicity, her brows disappearing beneath her hair.
Everyone else was staring, too.
The humans had given her plenty of space to work, but now, all the families closed in on her. Hands reached out in congratulatory pats and nudges, their words echoing through her mind like a disc on repeat. They moved past her after a time, holding up lanterns
toward the trees to make sure the fire was really out.
Once the humans had clustered together in cliquish groups, she could make out the shadows of the Laltogs, who had come down from their hilltop castle—probably to see if King Fhaescratch’s decision to keep her in Lost Cove had been worth it. As a Seelie Fae royal—abandoned and discarded as she was—Felicity’s family was the oldest enemy of the vampire-like Laltogs that had been oppressed and exiled from the Seelie Realm more than five hundred years ago. Her presence in Lost Cove was an insult to the Laltogs, but her magic was proving invaluable. Felicity would be a total liar if she said the fact that she had just saved them from certain destruction didn’t fill her with great satisfaction.
Speaking of satisfaction, Felicity spotted Tristen—the hot Laltog prince that starred in all her darkest fantasies—lurking among the shadows. She could tell it was him by the outline of height and build and the fact that his eyes were glowing red with excitement—because unlike the other Laltogs, he seemed to actually give a damn about her. He had just stepped into the light of a lantern when his parents pushed past him to acknowledge her. King Fhaescratch held a lantern of his own, and, Felicity noticed, there was not a dusting of ash or soot on either of them. Despite the heavy downpour, they were both dry as a bone. Even Anguis, the king’s unsettling pet copperhead, was clean and dry where it twisted around Fhaescratch’s arm.
Not that Felicity was shocked.
Fhaescratch and Rowena both had manipulated their own son to bring her there and then allowed him to take the blame for it. They weren’t really the type to get their hands dirty, even when it came to snuffing out a fire with the power to destroy their creepy gothic village.
When Fhaescratch put his arm around her, Felicity shuddered, and totally not in a good way. His sharp nails punctured the soggy fabric of her robe, as if reminding her who was in charge, and Anguis moved against her back, as he flicked his forked tongue and tightened his coil around his master’s arm. Not a fan of snakes, especially the venomous variety, Felicity fought for composure. At least Kyla, Tristen’s murderous fiancé, wasn’t attached to their royal hips like she usually was. Felicity could only hope the psychotic bitch who’d actually proposed they terminate her was watching from the shadows, gagging on her own jealousy.
“I believe our young Mage has just proven her value,” Fhaescratch said. “I know my decision to bring a Seelie Fae into our community was not without scandal or doubt. I hope this proves just how much of an asset her magic will be to us here in Lost Cove.”
Heads nodded. Approving whispers drifted through the now-quiet night.
Then, Queen Rowena turned to her, dipping her head. “You have done well, Felicity. You contained the fire. None of our buildings were touched, and there were no injuries.”
Relief swam through Felicity’s veins, cooling her fears. They hadn’t been able to find Caleb and Colton Simerly, the little pyros who had found their parents’ box of matches. She spotted them now, their faces greasy with smoke, their blond hair caked with soot and ashes soaked by the rain. They would be punished before the entire community tomorrow, but for now, they were thankfully alive and safe with their parents. This was the second time the boys had found the matches. Felicity couldn’t help but wonder what kind of punishment the boys and their parents would suffer after this infraction.
“School will still be in session tomorrow but will start at a delay due to the late hour of our crisis,” Fhaescratch added. “Now, everyone should get home and rest for tomorrow’s workday.”
Felicity bit back a groan.
Ain’t no rest for the weary. Or was it wicked?
Either way, she would get no reprieve from another day of high school hell. And Lost Cove Academy was almost as bad as Prosperity High.
As the crowd disbanded, Felicity’s best friend Raven burst through the clustering humans, her leg mostly healed from the fateful injury that had made them prisoners in this weird, demented society. When Fhaescratch had discovered that Felicity was the secret daughter of the Seelie King Barrett, he had sicced Anguis on Raven, ensuring they would need to seek medical care in Lost Cove, the antiquated realm hidden like a pocket within the Tennessee mountains. Following a near-disastrous stand-off with her adoptive parents, King Barrett, and two other Faerie Realm royals, Felicity was now bound to serve as Mage, using her magic to keep Lost Cove hidden among the mountain ridges. If she didn’t, Fhaescratch would dangle Raven and Nan in front of her like cat toys.
“That was the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen,” Raven blurted. “You just put out a fire. With your mind.”
“I’m also available for parties,” Felicity said. “I can pull rabbits from top hats and make balloon animals.”
“But can you saw a Laltog in half and put it back together?”
“That would be entertaining, though extremely foolish to consider.” Fhaescratch’s voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness, reminding them they were never alone. Laltogs’ senses were acute, and their hearing was no exception. Raven clamped her mouth shut, her eyes wide. Felicity had watched Fhaescratch and Rowena blend with the shadows as they made their way toward the castle, but clearly, they had heard Raven’s comment. They were nowhere to be found, but they could do this weird voice projection thing that had the effect of an echo. It was beyond unsettling.
“You did well,” Nan said, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“Even though I basically shunned my family to live among real-life creatures that should be relegated to nightmares?”
“That,” Nan said, “makes me even prouder. Raven is a part of our family, and you did what was necessary to keep her safe. There is no greater love—”
“—than she who lays down her life for her friends,” Felicity finished.
“Exactly.” Nan leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You’re covered in grit and grime. We should get home, girls. No break from school tomorrow.”
“Kill me now,” Raven groaned.
“I think someone else wants to say goodnight.” Nan nudged Felicity. “And his darker half seems to be absent tonight.”
When Felicity looked up, Tristen was lingering by the fencepost next to the pasture gate, talking to Luca, a Laltog from her Algebra class—which she was now passing, thank you very much. She had told Nan about her make-out session with Tristen, about all the confusion surrounding their feelings for one another. She’d left out the part about Tristen’s fangs in her neck and the resulting euphoria and general hotness, but Nan didn’t need to know everything, right? Her grandmother had been unbelievably non-judgy but warned her to be careful. Kyla was unpredictable and jealous—and determined to be queen, though she couldn’t care less about Tristen.
“I think His Highness is waiting on you,” Raven giggled. “We’ll see you back at the house.”
Raven slid her arm through Nan’s and walked through the wet grass. Luca, Felicity noticed, had conveniently disappeared, also. Nearly choking on her heart, Felicity moved toward Tristen on legs that felt heavy and awkward, like she’d just stepped onto dry land after being on a boat for a year. The leathery bat wings thrashing in her chest didn’t match the lazy clumsiness of her legs, and her entire body felt foreign to her.
Get it together, Dumbass.
She took a deep breath, her belly warming as she stopped beside him.
“Hi,” she said, a little too loudly.
Nope. Not awkward at all.
Tristen didn’t speak for several seconds, but the corner of his mouth lifted, as if he were fighting off the urge to laugh. Then, he held out his arm.
“It would be my honor to escort the Mage of Lost Cove safely back to her cottage.”
Laughing at the necessary formality, Felicity took his arm.
“Why, thank you, Your Highness. Believe me, the honor is all mine.”
She drew out the words like dripping honey, hoping the meaning behind them was clear. He raised his brows and cocked his head to the side, flashing a wicked
grin.
Tristen was well over six feet tall, so he towered over Felicity, but she never felt like she was in his shadow. His dark hair was soaked, like hers, and fell in inky strands across the sharp lines of his beautiful face. All the Fae were beautiful, Felicity had learned, and the Darklings were definitely not excluded from that. But where the Seelie Fae were ethereal and luminous, like she had always imagined the angels to look, the Unseelies and Darklings were alluring in a dangerous, foreboding way—like the way a snake or predatory bird could be beautiful and deadly at the same time. Whenever Tristen was near her, it was all Felicity could do to keep her toes from curling. Ever since she’d crawled across a table like a total slutbag to kiss him two weeks ago, he’d been under her skin, and there was no way she could shake him, even if she wanted to.
Remembering they weren’t alone, Felicity snapped out of her lustful thoughts, tearing her eyes away from him. Laltogs and humans lingered near the fields, discussing the fire and the impending fate of the eight-year-old holy terrors who had set it. Laltogs had super sensitive hearing and would be listening to every word exchanged between the Mage and their Prince until they had created several yards of distance, so Felicity and Tristen could never say what they truly meant among the hordes. But there, in the darkness, Tristen placed his other hand over Felicity’s, tracing circles over her skin without detection. His secret touch was somehow even more electric in its forbiddance than if his hands were somewhere more intriguing. Not that Felicity had ever been touched anywhere intriguing before. It was truly a shame.
