Seelie (The Falcon Grey Files Book 1)

by Sarah Luddington

  “They were?” she asked.

  My head pounded and I desperately wanted to lie down in a dark room and be still. “Humanity turned to science, the Seelie can’t, we are dependent on the raw essence of life for our existence. Taking life with guns can damage us, the disassociation from the earth in modern farming drains us of life. We are different, other. We vibrate at a different level. We gain power through the earth herself, especially a powerful Seelie like me. Only I’m not feeling very powerful right now.”

  “Marcus hurt you,” she stated.

  “Not hurt. I’ve been cut off from my people a long time, it’s making it hard to recover.”

  She held her hand out. “Give me the keys. You need to sleep.”

  I stared at her. “How do I know you won’t drive back to London the moment I close my eyes?”

  “You can’t do this on your own, Falcon. We’ll phone the office, tell them we are following a lead, a ritualistic killer with a pack of followers. We’ll point them at some more of your Dvergar, it’ll keep them off our backs for a few days. Then we go to Scotland. We find a way to end this and I can go home,” she said.

  I stared into her dark brown eyes. She looked calm, at peace with the madness around us – around me. “If we return to the city we die, you understand that, right?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  I gave her back her car keys with relief.

  When we left the restaurant Bethan raided the large shopping centre and loaded clothes, food and cleaning products into the Jeep. She then washed and cleaned my neck properly and dressed me in black t-shirt and jumper. I felt better. She rang the office, holding her phone away from her ear as Hoggart bellowed his unhappiness with us. Once she’d calmed him down I found myself bundled into the truck and we left the motorway services.

  Sleep overwhelmed me in moments.

  A hefty poke in my ribs woke me. “Hey, where now, boss?” asked Bethan.

  I blinked heavily, trying to rid myself of dreams about Marcus. “Where?” I asked, my tongue thick and brain slow.

  “I’ve come off the motorway. We’re above Hadrian’s Wall. You know I’ve never been this far north,” she said.

  “You’re chirpy,” I accused.

  “I’ve been drinking Red Bull all night,” she grinned.

  “Oh, joy,” I said. Manic DC Dar. The sun pressured the night on the horizon but so far the night was winning the battle. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard; six thirty in the morning. I’d slept all night. “We need to go to the Highlands. But I can’t find the address on Google or any of our databases, so I’m guessing it’s rural. I have the address of the nearest village, it’s on the way to Skye.”

  “Cool,” she said. “I like driving up here but the snow might start being a problem.” She spoke very quickly and her movements were jerky.

  I hid a smile. “Why don’t I drive for a while? We’ll be safer.”

  “Okay, you drive, I’ll read the map. I guess I could do with the break. Can we find somewhere to eat soon? I think I need coffee and toast. I’d like toast.”

  I patted her leg. “I think I can manage that but you might be better off without the coffee.”

  She smiled at me brightly, climbed out of the Jeep and walked around to the other side. I climbed out and stretched. I breathed in frigid air and the cold hit me hard in the face, wiping away the last of the sleep. It smelt of ice and the old world remembered only in fairy stories and myths. I loved Scotland. Wrapped up tight in its own separate universe somehow.

  I took over the wheel and we trundled through the early morning, enjoying the freedom of the roads and the white crisp blankets which smothered everything, making it all appear soft. We stopped and ate breakfast, which did a great deal more to aid my recovery than the appalling food of the day before, and continued our journey into the magical mountains.

  Eventually the Red Bull wore off and Bethan curled up on the backseat, sleeping soundly. I couldn’t help but remember the nights we’d spent together as lovers. I’d never known anyone be able to just switch off and sleep; it didn’t matter what kind of night we’d had, she’d just curl up, totally separate to me, and sleep.

  It did mean I had time alone to think about Marcus and my sister. These were not happy thoughts. I wondered how long it had taken Leo to gain control over Marcus after I left him. What had she done to convince him to hunt me, other than stealing his pelt, leaving him stuck in mortal form? Removing a pelt, though possible, killed most of us – so she must have done some serious damage beforehand, using the skinning as a last resort.

  The thought of Marcus being under anyone’s control struck me as both sickly humorous and horrific all once. My sister had made a play for him more than once, but Marcus’ only interest lay in me and those we decided to play with together or separately. When I’d run from the Seelie Court I knew he’d be weakened but I didn’t think he’d become her puppet. Guess I’d been wrong.

  The first few years of living among mortals full time took all my concentration. I fought constantly to be normal and at first everything took effort. Moving like a mortal, rather than the smooth way we Seelie walked, made every step difficult and a conscious effort. Remembering the language also proved tricky. Nineteen seventies England didn’t respond well to ‘thee’s’ and ‘thou’s’. I’d learned English a very long time before post-modernism. My only priority in those early days was protecting my young sibling and ensuring we remained hidden until everyone gave up looking for us. I’d enrolled him an old fashioned boarding school, which didn’t rely on the national curriculum so much as it prepared boys to learn to fend for themselves. Then I’d joined the British Army as a Paratrooper because I liked falling out of aircraft, from there the SAS, and when my agelessness became a problem I ‘died’ and moved into law enforcement. I relocated my brother to a different country and finally started his academic education. It takes a long time before the Seelie are ready to learn by sitting still and paying attention. In all that time I’d thought about Marcus every day but knew my duty to my brother was far more important.

  “Damn it, Marcus, I miss you,” I muttered.

  Bethan stirred when I made it to Stirling and we opted to stop for lunch. The day was now brutally cold so I decided we needed more supplies. We went shopping for several hours and Bethan made the most of being let loose with my credit card. By the time we finished we could have trekked to the North Pole. We trundled on, both of us hoping for a proper bed that night. We finally stopped in Glencoe, the night thick around us once more and the snow deep. I didn’t want to drive through the dark as the radio informed us there would be blizzards. Now the creature had Bethan’s true scent, it wouldn’t stop just because the phase of the moon had changed, so we were still in danger of being eviscerated.

  The hotel we found looked like more like a fortress than a house and the heavy walls did little to invite you over the threshold. We walked through the thick wooden doors, ushering in cold wind and snow. The huge hall glowered at us and the vast fireplace gave the illusion of warmth but the flames did little to heat the place. Stuffed stags’ heads, their antlers thankfully free of cobwebs, stared down with glassy eyes. The polished wooden floor made echoes of Bethan’s footsteps, while mine were almost silent. A man appeared from behind a dark tapestry depicting some battle or another, Scots dying in many and varied noble ways dominating the scene. His washed out red hair stained his scalp and grew alarmingly from his face. Not so much weatherbeaten as weather stained.

  “You’ll be wantin’ rooms?” he asked without the usual preamble of a ‘hello’.

  “Room,” I said. He glanced at Bethan’s left hand and sniffed.

  “Aye, well, if that’s the way you want it. Have you come for the skiing?” he asked, as if remembering protocol. Someone had doubtless informed him that taking an interest in his guests was good business practice.

  “Um, no,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said – end of conversation.

>   We signed in under separate names and Bethan tried hard not to laugh at the constant muttering of disapproval.

  “Your door,” the ‘r’ rolled excessively because we were clearly southerners, “Is at the top of the stairs on the left. Will you be staying for Christmas?”

  “Thank you,” I said, picking up a key large enough to knock out a burglar, if thrown with precision. “And no, we won’t be staying for Christmas.” His tone told me clearly enough we wouldn’t be welcome.

  I’d booked a double room because I still feared for Bethan’s safety and I wanted a bath. I needed to wallow in hot water.

  We climbed up the sweeping wooden stairs to the landing and found a surprisingly tasteful room when we let ourselves in. All modern conveniences were available including some very good quality scotch in miniature. When we arrived in the room I instantly started to pull off my clothing.

  “Can anyone join in?” Bethan asked, watching.

  I grinned. “Only if they promise to be good.”

  “You know I’m very good,” she said. “Have you bought me a Christmas present yet?”

  The segue didn’t work in my head. I was too tired. She walked toward me and placed her hands on my chest, a thin t-shirt separating our flesh. Her large brown eyes looked up at me and she smiled. I recognised that smile and felt more like the hunted than the hunter.

  “I haven’t had time to do any shopping except today,” I said, trying to think with something other my cock.

  “Then maybe, as we’re off the clock, we can give each other a very nice Christmas present,” she whispered.

  “Um,” I said, struggling to find a reason not to take advantage of this situation. Found one. “Marcus,” I said as if brandishing something I’d lost.

  “He isn’t here,” she pointed out. “And he’s your ex.”

  “Not really ex,” I said. “More MIA at the moment. He’ll never be an ex.”

  She huffed. “I’m trying to seduce you, Falcon, please stop talking about your male lover.”

  “I’m just not sure this is a good idea,” I said, still not moving.

  “I am. I might be dead tomorrow,” she said.

  “Bethan...” I pleaded.

  She huffed. “Fine, if that’s what you want. It was only going to be a screw. I wasn’t asking for a visit to Gretna Green.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Go away, Falcon,” she said, turning her back on me.

  By the time I’d had my bath, Bethan had hers and we’d eaten in a large dining room, quite alone but enjoying excellent food, we were once more friends and comrades. We trundled back upstairs and took no time in drinking some of the fine scotch before vanishing into sleep. Bethan wore one of my new t-shirts, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. She looked like a doll dressed in a child’s clothes. When she climbed into bed, I wrapped my body around her and we fell asleep in moments.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I woke feeling disorientated and aware of another body in my bed. I let my memories catch up while trying to work out what had dragged me from the arms of Morpheus.

  Bethan lay on her back and she snuffled quietly. The room itself was silent beyond the slight knocking in the central heating system. I slipped out from under the duvet and closed my eyes. A whispering prickle spread over my arms and back to race across my scalp, making my hair stand on end.

  “Marcus,” I whispered. I pushed back and felt his presence outside in the snow. I dressed quickly and quietly before slipping silently out of the room. I doubted the front door would be open and I’d heard dogs earlier so didn’t want to risk the kitchen. I returned to the large dining room and went to the window. The sash opened silently and I vaulted easily onto a drift of snow.

  “Well, that’s new,” said Marcus, helping me out of the drift which conspired to swallow me whole. “I’ve never seen you so clumsy.”

  “I’m tired,” I said, justifying myself.

  “You’re becoming too human,” he accused.

  “Are you here to insult me or tell me something useful?” I grouched, brushing snow off my backside.

  “Can I not just want to see you?” he asked.

  I glanced at him in surprise. “Really?” I asked, hope flaring.

  He smiled and the sadness in there made me aware of the reality of our situation. I sighed. “What’s wrong this time?”

  “She knows you’ve left London. So does the monster. She’s sending Dvergar up here and more. There is a trial going on in your absence. You’ve been charged with the murder of your brother unless you can produce him, which of course you can’t. The Hunters are being sent after you in force. Including me,” he said quietly. “She knows we’ve made contact.” Marcus stepped toward me and a gust of sharp wind blew from behind me. He inhaled and I realised I’d made a rookie mistake. His eyes widened in shock.

  “No...” I held my hands out. “No, Marcus, I didn’t, I haven’t, I promise.”

  “You stink of her,” he said, shock and hurt clear. He backed off from me.

  “No. It’s not what you think. She is sharing my bed as my friend, because it’s safe and gives her comfort.” Or at least it gave one of us comfort.

  “Falcon, how could you?” he asked, clearly not listening.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” I said. I wanted to grab him, pull him close, make him scent her body but not sex on me.

  “You have your news. Change your procedures accordingly,” he said, his voice colder than the snow.

  I couldn’t believe this had gone wrong so fast. From one moment to the next we were changing roles and I couldn’t keep up. I knew of one thing which would make him stop and make him listen to me. The majority of me balked slightly at the idea but I also knew if I were to redraw my relationship with Marcus I had to take it apart once piece at a time. I dropped to my knees in the snow. “I am telling you the truth, Dominus,” I whispered meekly.

  Marcus stopped. I dropped my eyes to the moon-slashed snow. “Little Bird,” he warned, uttering the name in a tone only he used to tell me I walked on thin ice.

  “She wanted it, I turned her down, I promise. I want only one thing. I only ever wanted one thing,” I spoke to the snow, quick and quiet, remaining on my knees.

  A low groan came from Marcus. “Get up,” he said.

  I frowned and risked a glance at him. Black on black a three dimensional shadow against the white. “Dominus?” I asked.

  “Highness, this isn’t the time – it will never be the time,” he said. If I dropped to my knees to tell him something, he never used my inherited title to place himself under my control rather than the other way around.

  I wanted to talk to my lover, not my slave. I relaxed back onto my heels but didn’t rise from the snow. “Talk to me.” He needed me to be his friend, a good compromise.

  Marcus turned away, the long black braids still and quiet in the small breeze. Being here, on my knees, looking up at him, I found myself captured by his obvious strength and grace of form. I also saw great pain. I knew the Breath of Life would be keeping the worse of the agony from him, but this pain looked far worse than anything I’d witnessed in a living person.

  “I lied,” he whispered. “She knows exactly where you are. I’ve told her everything. I can’t help it. I’ve betrayed you, Falcon. I’m supposed to find your brother by seducing you, gaining your trust. The trial is real. They are going to condemn you to death. It’ll be open season. Your head on a silver platter and she wants me to bring it. I belong to her. I fuck her whenever she demands it.” The last words were spoken in agony. He let out of low groan of pain and sank to his knees. “I’ll tell her everything. I have to; you have no idea what she’s capable of...”

  His head fell forward and a sob wracked his body.

  It didn’t take me as long as a heartbeat to reach his side. I hesitated but he didn’t need Little Bird, his willing submissive who waited for permission to be allowed to touch his Dominus. He needed Falcon, his best friend, his lover, his protector. I dr
ew him into my arms and for the first time in our lives, Marcus wept.

  I heard a sound behind us and glanced over my shoulder. A sleepy Bethan stood in the open window. She watched me silently before beckoning. “Get him inside before you both freeze to death,” she said quietly. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Her surprising and practical approach to the scene made me pull Marcus straight from his slumped position against my chest. I lifted his face to mine and on a night of firsts, I kissed his mouth. He hesitated for a moment but succumbed to my gentle persuasion and his lips parted. I held him with a terrible tenderness, as if he’d shatter and our tongues met, blended, grew strong and in moments we were not clinging to each other in misery but desire.

  He drew back first, far too soon. His forehead pressed against mine, our hot breath mingling in the cold air. “Falcon, I can’t,” he whispered.

  “Do you love me still?” I asked.

  “You know I do,” he said.

  “Come with me. Stay with me.”

  “Is that an order, Highness?” he asked.

  “Does it need to be?” I asked in return. I’d never given him an order, in all the years we’d been together, until I’d ordered him to protect Bethan. I didn’t want it to become a habit.

  “Yes,” he said, voice small and tight.

  “Then it’s an order,” I said.

  “I need you to say it all,” his voice remained pinched and his grip on my neck tightened painfully. Had his sense of self shifted so far he no longer understood how to be my dominant?