Faerie Blood (20 page)

“I thought I was the one that took a blow to the head!” he shouted. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said about the Unseelie? What in the name of God do you want to contact one for?”

“Can
you
find her?” I yelled right back.

It threw him. “Can I—what, how?”

“She’s a Warder! You’re a Warder!” He winced as I used that word to his face, but I didn’t let up. “Millie said she felt your blood hit the grass, that she was able to track you. Can you track her?”

His mouth worked without sound for a second or two; then, as seemed to be his habit, Christopher pushed his fingers restlessly through his hair. He’d bound it back up in its ponytail after his shower, but several strands escaped confinement now in the wake of his distress. “Maybe,” he grunted, and that one word visibly cost him. The volume dropped away from his voice, though the agitation still burned in his eyes. “Damn it, girl, it’s not that easy!”

“I know.” I stepped closer to him, praying he could somehow see in my face that I did. More softly now, I said, “And I don’t want you trying anything magic anyway till we’re sure it won’t hurt you. So we need to do something else, don’t you see?”

Jude put in, only slightly less fiercely than Christopher, “But going to talk to a guy who may have turned the brains of everybody on our team into pretzels? Come on, Ken, what are you planning to say to him? ‘We’d like fries with our lobotomies, please’?”

Her ‘we’ did not elude me, and I managed a bit of a smile as I whirled around to her, but I wasn’t any more willing to back off from Jude than I was from Christopher. “He was fighting the Seelie,” I reminded her. “And they’re the ones after me. If they’ve done anything to Millicent, he could be our only lead.”

She gaped and then deflated, slumping back into the papasan. “Damn. I hate to admit it, but you may be right. Who else can we go talk to about this anyway?”

“It’s too soon to go to the police,” Aggie murmured.

I started pacing again, too wired to stand still for long, but I nodded vigorously at my aunt. “And even if it wasn’t, just think of how calling 911 saying ‘we’d like to report that a little old lady has been kidnapped by elves’ would sound.”

Jude made a face. “Something like ‘bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-click-bzzzz’,” she drawled.

“So,” I concluded, “unless somebody tells me right now they have a better idea, I say we try Elessir.”

Christopher had gone still. As I paced past him, though, he reached out and grabbed my arm. “If you’re set on doin’ this, lass, then we find out as much as we can about him first.”

Energized and strangely buoyed by the prospect of something meaningful to do—even if Millie very likely in danger had brought it on—I flashed the Newfoundlander my brightest grin. I was worried about Millicent, make no mistake, but I needed this. I needed something to do. “Don’t worry, big guy,” I said. “We’ve got people to email for help, his email address to check out, and the entire Internet to do it in.”

If there was anything to be found online about Elessir a’Natharion, then Jude and I would find it.

Back at Aggie’s computer, I found email waiting from both of the other Warders. The first, from a woman named Connie Standing Wolf in New Mexico, provided no interesting data but did ask me to convey a hello to Millie; the second, however, was more helpful. Aaron Flannery of Minnesota, in his younger days, had crossed paths with the Sidhe called Melisanda, and relayed that she was an honorable warrior who had never before seemed willing to violate the Sidhe-Warder Pact. He knew nothing of any associates she might have or anyone whom she might serve, but could at least tell me that she claimed allegiance to the Seelie House Kirlath.

Heartened, I sent both Warders grateful replies and asked for anything they could give me on Elessir a’Natharion. That got me pay dirt.

Warders in practically every state in the South had sighted Elessir over the last twenty-five years, sometimes busking on the streets, sometimes appearing without warning to sing in out-of-the-way bars. He had never gone against the Pact—at least in a Warded city—but rumors of his activities outside of them were rampant. Stories of people encountering him, vanishing, and reappearing dozens of miles from their homes with empty pockets and no memories of their encounter followed him wherever he went. One or two of those who’d disappeared had never reappeared at all.

“Unseelie or not,” I said, peering with narrowed eyes at the text on the screen before me, “he sounds like some kind of criminal.”

“Same thing,” Christopher growled.

We then plugged his name and the email address on the card he’d given me into search engines. That told us that the site that hosted the address did in fact exist and had domain name service through one of the national registrars. Its whois record listed a Tam Lin in Scotland as its administrative contact.

“That figures,” Jude said with a snicker as I read off the name, and Christopher let out a sarcastic snort. My eyebrows rising, I looked between them both.

“Tam Lin the bard?”

“Dazzled by the Sidhe,” Jude replied, “Their most famous human victim,” while she scanned the output flashing by in my command window.

Christopher leaned forward on the love seat, absently casting a glance at what he could see of the computer screen, but most of his attention was on me. “It’s an old Scottish ballad, you know,” he clarified. “All about how a mortal girl’s lover is caught by the Queen of Faerie and she must go after him.”

Oh. Yeah, that was smirk-worthy. “You know it?” I asked.

Though he didn’t smile, I spotted a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve sung it.”

“We get through this tonight, you’ll have to sing it for me,” I said, allowing myself a brief moment to grin at him before I turned back to the keyboard. One more pass through the windows I’d opened showed me nothing else to learn, so it was time for one more email. I sighed, typed in a request for Elessir to meet us at the first place that popped into my head, and sent it off before I could change my mind.

“Pray we can get through it,” Christopher answered. “Tam Lin and songs like it are old, but the truth of ’em stays the same. The Sidhe cross paths with mortals, it’s the mortals that suffer.”

And yet, I was half-Sidhe. And therefore, half-mortal.

Where did that leave me?

Ten minutes later, my email got a reply:

Miss Thompson
—

I’m most pleased to hear from you, and I’ll be delighted to meet with you tonight. Your suggested location is quite acceptable, as it is very close to where I am staying, and I will happily meet you there. But if you wish to make this a group outing, do me the honor of informing me how many seats I should hold at the restaurant
.

Let’s make it thirty minutes from now, shall we? Do be on time; punctuality is a virtue
.

—
Elessir

“Pretentious bastard, isn’t he?” Jude drawled as I logged out of my email account, shut down all the programs I’d launched, and turned off the computer.

“Seems in character,” I agreed. Nervous energy propelled me out of the den and down the hall; Jude and Christopher followed, and I kept talking as I headed to the living room to fetch my shoes. “At least based on what we’ve got on him so—”

I didn’t finish. I couldn’t, with Aggie standing in my way. Her arms were crossed, her lips compressed into an obstinate line; she looked severely displeased. Most disconcertingly of all, she had her purse. “Kendis Marie Thompson,” she announced before I could utter a word, “you are not going to see this…
person
without me.”

Christopher and Jude both blurted out strident protests, which galvanized me into finding my voice. Waving at them both to back off, I exclaimed, “Aunt Aggie, no, you can’t go anywhere near this guy!”

“Then neither should you, baby. Millicent would tell you so if she were here!” Aggie thrust a finger at Christopher, who shifted from foot to foot, profoundly uncomfortable. “This boy here already has. I heard him.”

“She’s right, though,” the young Newfoundlander muttered as he edged cautiously around my aunt and me, aiming for the hiking boots that waited by the couch. “We’ve not much of a choice. Not if he knows anythin’ o’ what happened to Millicent.”

Her brown eyes afire, Aggie snapped a glance from me to Christopher and back again. “I’ve known her far longer than any of you children,” she said, “and I’m as concerned about her as you are! But I’ve already lost my little brother. I may have lost my friend tonight. Kendie baby, I am not losing you too!”

Emotion crashed over me then in a sharp, poignant wave, and I very nearly bailed on the plan right then and there. But I thought of James, of Christopher, and now maybe Millicent as well, all brought to harm because of me. And I thought of what it would do to me if something happened to Aggie, too.

“You won’t, Aunt Aggie, I swear to God you won’t,” I breathed, putting my arms around her and hugging her close. When she hugged me back, I lifted my head and studied her anxiously. “But don’t you see? If I have to worry about you tonight, it’ll drive me crazy. I might screw something up.”

Jude lingered nearby, leaning against the back of the couch, her shoes dangling from one hand and the keys to her truck from the other. “And we really ought to have somebody here anyway, you know. Just in case Millicent comes back, or calls,” she put in.

That idea clearly hadn’t occurred to Aggie, for the resolution in her features faltered, and it was almost as painful a sight for me as her all too palpable fear and concern; it made her look old and worn. To my relief, however, she pulled in a deep, resigned breath, closed her eyes, and nodded to us all. “You’re right,” she whispered. Then she looked up again. “But if I have to be the one to stay here and wait, then I insist on two things.”

“Anything,” I promised.

“You call me when you get to where you’re going, when you’re about to come home, and if you have the slightest bit of trouble.”

“Done.”

“And,” Aggie implacably went on, turning to Christopher, “if there’s anything you can do to protect Kendie, son, I want you to do it.”

Silence fell across the room. Jude shot me a wide-eyed look; I froze, though, all my attention on Christopher. He’d knelt on the floor to put on his boots, but now he stood again, slowly, his face tightening into tense and guarded lines.

I began, “Aggie, no, you can’t ask—”

She didn’t blink. Nor did she take her eyes off Christopher. “You have the same power Millicent does,” she said.

“Yes,” he rasped.

Aggie was not a tall woman, though as she straightened to her full height, her chin lifting, she looked every bit as tall as the young man she faced. “I know you’ve had a hard time,” she told him, her eyes full of sympathy. “But I also know Millie isn’t here and you are. Use that power you got in you, boy, and watch out for my Kendie.” I stepped forward, about to protest, and only then did my aunt look back to me. “I won’t take no for an answer on this, baby. He does this or you don’t go.”

My heart turned over at her expression, and I realized that Aggie was about to face the same fate I couldn’t bear to take on myself: fearing for the person she cared most about in the world. But could I let her ask Christopher to risk doing himself harm invoking magic—just to protect me?

He made the decision for me, though. “Don’t worry,” he said gruffly, glancing my way. “I’m fit enough to do what’s needful.” Then he eyed my aunt. “And there’s somethin’ I can try, maybe, somethin’ Mum used to do for me when I was small. I could try to put a Ward on her.”

Surprise and hope flared in Aggie’s eyes. “You can do that? Ward a person as well as a place?”

Christopher approached me, his brows winging down. “Maybe,” he answered Aggie, but his eyes were on me. “But a Ward gets tied into somethin’ concrete, somethin’ tangible. The land, usually, for a buildin’ or a city. A Ward for a person needs somethin’ you can carry to hold the magic—unless you have magic o’ your own to shield yourself. Say, if you’re a Warder.” He paused, and then added, “Or fey.”

“Something you can carry,” Jude repeated, and as Christopher nodded, a broad grin erupted across her face. She plunged her hand beneath her shirt, pulled out her necklace, and yanked its cord over her head. “Use this,” she said, holding it out. The pendant was a ceramic wolf’s head, beautifully detailed, and tinted in shades of gray and silver to convey the impression of textured fur.

“Jude…” All at once the plan seemed to be slipping out of my control, and I wasn’t at all sure I liked it. I itched to get out the door, to face the Unseelie singer and get it over with, to find Millicent. And, if at all possible, to get back to what had been a normal life forty-eight hours ago. “Jude,” I went on, “that necklace is yours.”

“A gift freely given,” she replied. “I may not know anything about real magic, but I’m betting that’ll help. Plus I bought it off a guy at the U-district Street Fair whose web site talks all about how he works with local materials.” My friend swung her grin back around to Christopher and finished in triumph, “Which means made out of the earth of Seattle, which I’m betting is real important to magic that’s linked up to the city, right?”

For a moment Christopher looked as startled as I felt, but then he began to nod; gingerly, he reached out to take the necklace from Jude’s waiting hand. “Yeah,” he murmured, “it should help.”

“Then do it,” Aggie implored. Her eyes glimmered, though no tears fell along her dark cheeks. “Protect my baby brother’s girl.”

There was no way I could argue with my aunt now, and I didn’t dare to try. Nor did I dare to let Christopher go through with this without trying once more to make certain he’d be okay. “Are you sure about this?” I asked him, raising my troubled eyes to his.

“No,” he confessed. Apprehension stood out plainly on his face; his throat flexed hard even as he spoke. But he looped the necklace’s cord over my head, and though his voice was a feeble whisper, his hand did not quaver. “I’m goin’ to do it anyway, though. Your aunt is right. We—
I
can’t let you go to face an Unseelie without a Wardin’.”