Ruled by Tainted Blood

by Michael J Allen

  She must be persuaded to select study materials and depart without dawdling.

  The opening elevator halted my march. I framed a reprimand for Caelum only to find Aquaylae’s mortal. He eyed the foyer with a mixed uncertainty and awe.

  My anger at Caelum’s transgression blossomed into fury at the insolent mortal. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to check on Quayla,” Dylan entered the foyer.

  I closed until we faced one another nose to nose. Nails dug into my palms, a growl adding to the force of my words. “I told you she is no longer allowed to associate with wafers.”

  “I heard you the first time, and I allowed you space to stabilize her, but I’m not about to walk away on your word.”

  “How did you gain access to this floor? Mortal piracy?”

  Dylan lifted a security card. “You left Quayla’s purse behind.”

  I snatched away her card. “I made our position clear. Be gone.”

  “You don’t intimidate me, Vitae. I’m not leaving.”

  While finding fault in his tenacity remained beyond me, his blatant refusal to accept his place lit my eyes with power. He would learn proper deference. Once he cowered, eyes open to the realities, I’d see him rewritten.

  “You should be afraid.”

  Dylan stiffened, his countenance hardening.

  “You are an insignificant mortal trespassing in the halls of giants. Your casual lusts—”

  “I love her.”

  “Fine.” I pressed my lips together, holding tight on the pulsing power rising within me. “Your love distracted Aquaylae from her duty, risking her permanent destruction. Her purpose is too important to allow your feelings to jeopardize her. She won’t be returned to that apartment or your bed.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Try to grasp your own language, mortal. Aquaylae has no further use for you. Be gone.”

  Dylan’s voice rose. “I will only leave once I hear her send me away with her own lips.”

  I seized him, drawing him close enough to smell his horrid breath. My skin tingled in hot pulses “You’re not good enough, not welcome and not wanted. You will see reason.”

  My anger vanished, leaving me awash in sudden cold calm.

  Dylan’s expression went slack. He turned, glazed eyes wide. Aquaylae’s reflection filled his eyes, disgust bending her features.

  Tears slid down his cheeks and his face screwed up in pain. “Q-Quayla...how could you say something like that...I thought you loved me.”

  The space in front of him remained empty even though Aquaylae stood reflected in his eyes.

  “Fine. You’re not thinking, not making sense, but I’ll give you space.” His angry retort brought me back to the present.

  Aquaylae emerged from the library. Her expression brightened. “Dylan? I thought I heard you.” She hobbled across the intervening space. “I’m so glad to...Dylan, what’s wrong?”

  Dylan’s head snapped to one side, swinging back and forth between Aquaylae and the reflection. “How are there two—” His face contorted. He smashed Aquaylae’s phone against the marble tiles. “Fine, you can both burn in hell for all I care.”

  Aquaylae’s voice cracked. “Dylan?”

  The mortal whirled toward the closed elevator only to turn back. “Well? You wanted me gone, so let me out of this birdcage already.”

  I stepped forward, swiping my access card.

  “Wait!” Aquaylae shambled forward.

  I caught her, restraining her until the closing doors removed the troublesome mortal from our lives. “You’re better off without him.”

  “He makes me happy.”

  The corners of my mouth bent downward. “If your happiness comes from external indulgence instead of duty and service, you’ve greater issues to conquer.”

  “How could you drive him off like that? What did you say to him to turn him against me?”

  “Only what was necessary. Nothing of consequence.”

  Aquaylae shoved a finger into my chest. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Vitae stated Dylan was not good enough, not welcome and not wanted here,” Anima said.

  Aquaylae slapped me across the face. “I’ll never forgive you.”

  She stormed off, leaving me to rub my cheek.

  “Thank you, Anima.”

  “You were rude, but I saw no reason for Dylan’s reactions,” Anima said.

  No, his response was all due to what was reflected in his eyes...something no one else saw. How was such an illusion possible?

  I turned my tingling fingers over and again.

  “Anima, one of Caelum’s brownies must still be here.”

  “I assure you Vitae, I kept ceaseless track of their activities. After confirming their departure, I ran an additional deep scan. There are no faeries present in our sanctum.”

  I nearly ordered Anima to run another scan, but a horrifying thought stopped the words in my throat. I stormed into my bedroom and knelt next to my basin. I inhaled. The sweet coppery tang of my blood covered the contamination, but it couldn’t mask the Sidhe taint from prickling my skin.

  I reenvisioned my deaths and rebirths.

  Faerie blood must have contaminated the essence from which I was reborn.

  Horror and disgust warred with curiosity and delight.

  Such contamination explained the sudden influx of selfish thoughts and quixotic temper. More importantly, it further explained what I’d considered strange attention I received when visiting the two faerie Courts.

  My eyes shot to the wall separating my and Mare’s bedroom. My smile blossomed.

  The influx of Sidhe blood in my reborn body seemed to have granted magical side effects not least of which control over mortals. If I were able to turn such abilities to my conscious control, I might be able to control the Unseelie sword enough to free Mare’s soul. She could be reborn. In the meantime, enhancing my abilities allowed me to shore up our defenses, shoulder some of Summuseraphi’s growing burden and prove myself worthy of ascension.

  “Vitae?”

  “I apologize, Anima. I thought the mortal’s behavior a reaction to magic, but as I am unable to sense any faerie hiding in our home, I must’ve been incorrect.”

  “With all respect, Shieldheart, my own senses are far superior to yours for this purpose.”

  “I apologize for not trusting you.” I headed for the elevator. “I will return once I have satisfied a query or two.”

  Quayla

  My bedroom door didn’t slam anywhere near as hard as I intended. Tears streaked searing, angry lines down my cheeks. I threw myself onto the old four-post bed, knowing but not caring how much I needed those tears to refill my nest.

  I’d barely landed on the coverlet when I rolled off and paced the confines of my antique-appointed cage.

  Vitae—who’d betrayed and abandoned me—had also jailed me within the sanctum, refusing me all exit until he deemed my health and my nest sufficiently recovered.

  “Shield Quayla?”

  “Not now, Ani, please.”

  “I just, well, is there anything I can do?”

  “You can let me leave.”

  “I am truly sorry, but I cannot,” Anima sounded sorry too.

  Fine, if I’m not good enough for Vitae’s Shield, then I’ll leave.

  I forced my weak legs over to my nest, snatching up both hilts. Fury flashed my flesh to essence in moments. I planted my left leg in the basin’s center, positioned my curved knives on either side of my leg and scissored them through my thigh with an agonized shriek.

  “Quayla!” Ani cried.

  I teetered away from my still standing limb and smashed my lower back against the bureau. I hopped back into my nest, bare foot splashing in the liquid from my leg and sliced my karambit across the other leg.

  As I teetered atop my severed leg, a solid two-handed shove launched me backward. Lightheadedness assaulted my tumble.

  “Quayla, you have to stop,” Anima pleaded.
“That’s too much essence at once.”

  I wanted to demand how she could possibly know, wanted to scream how impossible it was for her to know what is was like to be alone, mistreated and abandoned. My shock-befuddled brain refused to form the words. A high-pitched whine sent ripples through my essence. I bore down, demanding my watery substance to rebalance and regrow the lost legs.

  Unconsciousness beat me silly before I learned whether or not my essence obeyed.

  Detective Foxner

  Sabrina Foxner sat in her car, staking out Quayla Buckler’s apartment. She’d parked kitty corner a little way down the street—as close as she dared after her Captain had ordered her to close the unsolved case.

  I’ve never let a case remain unsolved before and I’m not starting now—besides, he can’t tell me how to spend my personal time.

  The Jahammer electric motorcycle remained in the otherwise empty parking space. Nothing moved behind the curtained windows. No lights snapped on to illuminate the third-floor apartment. The motorcycle never moved. There’d been no sign of Buckler or her boyfriend at all.

  The lack of activity made no difference. Her Captain’s orders weren’t enough to change the fact that Buckler was guilty—new body or no new body.

  Nothing about this case makes sense, why should this? I know I’m right. She’s the one I want.

  Sabrina’s thoughts drifted back to the off-balance coroner’s assistant—Brantley something. He’d been adamant the odd ritual weapon had been made out of troll, something from horror films and apparently the world of super-geekdom. He insisted the bone grew before their eyes. Nothing grew that fast, not even the beansprouts they’d made them all grow way back in school.

  Nothing natural anyway.

  Brantley had been just as certain about the weapon as she was about Buckler’s guilt. She shook the thoughts from her head.

  I’m grasping, desperate to prove my instinct right even if that means embracing something as ridiculous as magic.

  Sabrina would wait. She’d catch Buckler. All she needed was an excuse to enter Buckler’s apartment one more time.

  Vitae

  I sat in my car for several minutes with my eyes closed, trying to feel the power I’d used to make Aquaylae’s mortal more malleable to reason. Like the others, my essence thrummed with the power of Creation. Discerning the foreign power gifted me by a tainted rebirth proved a search for a specific needle in a canyon filled with them.

  My importance as a life phoenix often relegated me to overwatch from the sanctum. It wasn’t a matter of being weaker than the other shields, but only I could enhance the raw elements corresponding to the other shields’ essences in order to empower or heal them.

  Case in point, I had the ability to help Aquaylae back onto her feet. I simply had no intention of rewarding her laziness. We needed a strong Shield in the face of Sidhe war, but even at full strength Aquaylae would only be a weakness, a drain on our resources.

  We need Mare. If I can access Sidhe magic, I could bend it to my will, make it serve the greater good...make Dolumii’s sword release Mare back to us.

  I pondered the ramifications.

  Sidhe taint corrupted life, and there wasn’t anything to me but life. If taking Seelie or Unseelie essence into myself granted me addition abilities, made me a stronger shield, then it offered a mechanism for shoring up our defenses.

  First, I must determine if the feat is repeatable.

  Both Anima and my nest were tied into the angel network. I knew of no way to separate the automata from that network, and the runes carved into my nest’s basin and enchanted couldn’t be removed. Anima would sense any rebirth. The automata would record the information, querying me for the cause of death for its report to our Praefectus.

  Experimenting with Sidhe blood wasn’t forbidden in the strictest sense, but our new divine didn’t have much sense to start with. Our creation had equipped us with a certain amount of free will, promoting inventiveness in the cause of duty. Protecting my Shield and the Praefecture of Atlanta was my duty.

  If pursuing mastery over magic offers the slightest chance of rescuing Mare, I’ll pursue this through hell itself even if harnessing Sidhe magic serves neither Shield nor Atlanta.

  There was an element of risk involved, but the worst-case scenario seemed death and rebirth. Like Mare—and unlike Aquaylae—I was willing to discomfort myself for the greater good.

  All of which remained hypothetical until I acquired a source of Sidhe blood. The obvious avenue for acquiring such dwelt in the Goblin Market. Unfortunately, Aquaylae’s gauche assault in that quarter effectively closed the Market off as a source.

  Probably for the best, purchased blood wouldn’t include species, age or gender statistics, hampering analysis with a large unknown variable.

  Fortunately, Sidhe activity was higher than normal.

  “Anima, please provide me the location of the sentry net’s largest dead zone.”

  “There is a large unmonitored area on the North perimeter, near the King and Queen buildings.”

  “Of course.” I started the car. “Thank you.”

  “Do you require backup?” Anima asked.

  “No.”

  I exited the garage into moderate traffic. Like it or not, over the last century Atlanta had grown in leaps and bounds. The addition of the automobile created a constantly worsening situation that outstripped road capacity, exacerbated by American entitlement to operate vehicles solo rather than the more community minded transit paradigms in Europe. Little could be done about surface streets short of demolishing whole blocks and redesigning the system. A few of the other metropolitan Shields reported attempts to create multilevel surface streets. Citizens unwilling to pay higher taxes or suffer commuting inconveniences combined with ever present governmental misappropriation stymied those projects.

  Eager as I might be to experiment, there was no rush or rage. I would arrive in due time, enjoying the best of mortal composers along the journey.

  Part of me hoped for another breach in the Veil. I hadn’t had the opportunity to test my captured elven blades in combat, and there were no guarantees the large dead zone in our net would hide readily available Sidhe.

  I reached Atlanta’s northern perimeter without Anima reporting any incursions. The corporate bastion remained busy even as evening came into its own. Commercial businesses served workers, commuters and companies running round-the-clock business models. Mortals bustled hither and yon, pursuing their little hordes of wealth, power or pleasure.

  And there will be a Sidhe in their midst somewhere trying to make a deal.

  I cruised along streets, keeping an eye on my surroundings and listening to my essence. Sharply-dressed and beautiful people amid the masses offered prospective suspects.

  A turn off of Ashford-Dunwoody onto Hammond brought me close enough to feel a Sidhe. It took longer than acceptable for me to sight the faerie. I’d been looking for glamour and flash, not a shamble.

  Vilicangelus postulated that a shamble encounter had inspired Charles Schulz’s Pig-Pen. The Sidhe creatures lived and breathed filth. It clung to them like an ever-present cloud, only settling when they went immobile.

  I drove into the parking structure.

  A practiced beggar would’ve waited near the pay stations, where people had their currency at the ready and slow exit processing piled up the vehicles. The shamble lurked off to one side. The carrion feeder didn’t care about currency, only easy prey.

  “Anima, please see if you can find any indications of missing persons in my current area.”

  The shamble turned its back and wandered away the moment it saw or—more accurately—sensed me.

  “There have been a number of missing persons reports around Perimeter Mall.”

  Parking in a reserved spaced guaranteed my vehicle would be towed if I lingered. There wasn’t any reason for concern. I’d finish the shamble easily. I jogged up the shamble’s filthy wake, drawing my Seelie Champion blade. The Unseelie
creature had derailed my search, but I could not allow the vile beast to wander Creation. Technically, a shamble was a Sidhe creature, but the idea of infusing the filthy thing’s blood into my essence was unconscionable.

  “In the name of the Undying Light, I command you to stop.”

  The shamble groaned something, but didn’t slow its retreat. I picked up the pace.

  “I commanded you to halt.” I tightened my grip on the sword despite how it fitted itself to my hand. “Continued resistance will require me to take aggressive action.”

  Much to my disappointment, the shamble stopped, turned and gave me a filthy look. “Ain’t doing nothing.”

  “You are outside Faery, and I have reason to believe you’ve been preying on mortals.”

  Up close, shadows and phantoms slipped the shamble’s control, betraying the creature’s disguise of a homeless human. Phantasms swirled and vanished: a shrieking woman, an elderly man and a Nubian corporate professional. Their appearance lasted less than an eye blink, but I needed no further evidence that the shamble had murdered mortals and kept their souls.

  In my younger days, I might’ve pretended not to notice, closed peaceably for a surprise attack. The sight of stolen souls bit deep. Heat washed down Gherrian’s blade into me and back over the sword in a swirling red and gold corona.

  I rode the wave of fury straight for the shamble’s throat.

  The shamble slipped under my strike, moving far faster than its name implied. It dropped its glamour, revealing the mishmash of detritus that made up its body. I positioned for a thrust only to have the beast hurl a woman’s soul into my face.

  Her terror hit me like a runaway Clydesdale. My battle cry became a shriek of terror. In the moment of distraction, the shamble swung both arms. A sickening energy colored like a black eye bound two thick limbs launched from the Sidhe like a zombie bola.

  They hit me shoulder and ankle hard enough they knocked me horizonal. Arm bones snapped. Leg bones shattered. Cracked ribs threatened to puncture my innards. The flesh bola snapped back like it had been connect by a bungee cord as a shamble leg curved itself up in an uppercut to catch my airborne body in the hip.