Faerie Blood (21 page)

“Do it fast, then,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “We don’t have much time.”

Christopher nodded twice, and then shifted his stance before me as if bracing himself for a blow. His chest heaved as he pulled a long breath into his lungs; around the pendant, his hand tightened its grip. His eyes closed.

And a blast of warm, raw power rushed up from somewhere far beneath my feet, filling my vision with a wash of green and gold and whipping in random eddies around my entire frame. In that same instant something seemed to catch fire deep within me, something that surged out to meet and merge with the energy that surrounded me. When it did, that energy abruptly focused. I felt it draw itself together into a small, radiant sphere that blazed like a star around my hand—and Christopher’s. Though I couldn’t see it, I knew then that I’d grabbed his hand with my own.

The energy faded. My vision cleared just in time to see Christopher stagger and begin to collapse.

I cried out and wrapped both my arms around him, barely aware of Jude dashing over to help me prop him up. There was warmth all over me now, strangely comforting warmth like clothes fresh from the dryer, and it almost blocked out all else except the pendant I now wore and the man I held. Jude gasped out something that had to be ‘are you all right?’, but her words zoomed right through my hearing without stopping to make sense.

With an effort, Christopher lifted his head; with another, he met my gaze. Renewed pain etched lines of weariness across his face, though even through their haze of exhaustion, I could see amazement glimmering in his eyes. It needed no explanation, for I was just as stunned as he was. And I was certain that, just like me, he could feel the current of power flowing back and forth between us more strongly than it had before.

“Y-you shouldn’t have done that,” I stammered. “Your head…”

“Only way to get you Warded, lass,” he said hoarsely.

Aggie, her expression brimming with a sharp concern that suggested she now wondered if she’d done the right thing, asked, “Then you’ve done it? Will it hold?” Christopher managed another nod, and she added, “Will
you
?”

He straightened then, though he did not yet take either his hand or his eyes away from mine. I wanted nothing more in that moment than for him to be hale and strong again, and as the thought flashed across my mind, something pulsed through our joined hands. Color began to creep back into his cheeks. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I think I will.”

Relief kindled like a bonfire deep within my chest. I had no idea what I’d just done—but if the easing of the pain from Christopher’s countenance was any sign, it was a good thing. Right then, I was profoundly grateful for any goodness we could get.

“Then we should get moving,” I said. On impulse I squeezed Christopher’s fingers, and then let them go so I could turn around and give my aunt another hug. “We’ll be back as soon as we can, Aunt Aggie. We’ll check Millie’s place on the way, just to be sure, and I promise we’ll call when we get to the restaurant. It shouldn’t take us too long.”

“Where are you going, Kendie baby?” Aggie held out the slip of paper on which she’d written Millie’s address in her perfect copperplate until I took it, and then hugged me back, her arms trembling with the strength of her own embrace. But, true to her word, she stepped back, steeling herself for me to depart without her.

“Downtown.” I gave her the most reassuring smile I could muster, and gestured to the others. “Come on. Let’s get to Mama’s.”

Millicent’s house was one of the last one-family homes
tenaciously holding on amidst the businesses and apartment buildings all up and down Aurora Avenue. It looked like her, small and ramshackle, trimmed in faded siding and shutters with peeling paint. She wasn’t in it. Though none of us mentioned it, we were all disappointed and unnerved. It meant we had to go ahead and drive downtown to meet Elessir and continue the search.

Fremont to downtown Seattle is not normally a slow drive, but the traffic lights and the weather were against us. The tattoo of rain against Jude’s truck, the beat of her windshield wipers, and the curses she leveled at every car we passed were all that broke the silence of the ride; Christopher and I kept quiet, letting Jude focus on the roads. He leaned against the back seat window, eyes closed and gathering his strength, while I fingered the wolf’s head pendant. It was warmer than it should have been from my body heat alone. Every time I closed my hand around it, I was aware of Christopher’s presence even without looking his way.

We parked as close to Mama’s as we could and dashed at top speed to its entrance. The foul weather had hurt their Friday night business; many tables were empty, and no one else waited in the foyer for seats. Before one of the staff came over, I took the time to borrow Jude’s cell, a bulkier and more battered model than Millie’s, and call Aunt Aggie to let her know we were safe. That done, I murmured to Christopher, “By the way, I’m glad you’re here.”

A bit of amber faded out of his eyes, turning them a purer green, and the faintest flicker of a smile crossed his mouth. “So am I,” he said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jude’s beatific smile. But her expression reverted to straight-faced business the instant I looked at her directly, and all she said was a deadpan, “So when you’re about to eat dinner at a Mexican restaurant with an Unseelie Elvis impersonator, are burritos or fajitas called for?” I snickered and was glad of the chance, because magic necklace or not, I was past nervous and right on into scared.

Which, of course, was why I’d told Elessir to meet us at Mama’s. The food was good, but the local color was better, especially since they didn’t match in the slightest. Given who we were about to meet, the dozens of old pictures and kitschy souvenirs from the fifties, sixties, and seventies were particularly apt—because every last one of them featured Elvis Presley.

One of the waiters pointed us at the table we wanted, and as we headed for it Christopher leaned over to whisper to me, “Picked this place on purpose, then?”

“It’ll either stroke his ego or get his goat,” I whispered back. “Either way, should be fun to see how he reacts.”

Elessir a’Natharion waited for us at the table, occupying a seat on one of the benches that lined the walls and cradling a margarita glass in his fingers with an elegant grace that befitted the finest crystal. Jude sucked in a breath at the sight of him, and I realized that she hadn’t seen any of the Sidhe since Millicent had given her that ointment for her eyes. So she had to be getting the full impact of his tapered ears, gleaming skin, and jewel-blue eyes. Tonight he was dressed slightly more upscale: white short-sleeved sport shirt with a turned-up collar, white slacks perfectly fitted to the long, lean legs stretched out under the table. And, crowning the pompadour that somehow avoided looking ridiculous on him, a black yachting cap.

From head to foot, despite the rainstorm, he was absolutely dry. And the moment he saw us, I knew he wouldn’t rise to the bait I’d set him by choosing this meeting place. His eyes glittered as they swept over my wet frame. “I see the weather’s still lively. Good evening, Miss Thompson,” he said smoothly. Then his attention slid to Christopher and Jude, especially the latter, as he appended, “And friends. Do sit down.” Lithely he rose from his place on the bench, gesturing for us to join him.

Jude’s jaw had dropped, and she pulled it back up only when I pinched her shoulder. “Chair,” I mouthed at her. She shook herself, and then circled the table to take the empty place on the bench, next to Elessir.

I didn’t like the dazzled look on her face or her seating choice. But then again, I wasn’t eager to sit next to the Unseelie singer myself, so I settled for the chair facing him, which Christopher pulled out for me. At any other time in any other place I’d have been surprised and pleased, and told him so; here and now, I didn’t dare take my eyes off Elessir for an instant.

As I sat down the pendant grew hot against my skin, until I half-expected it to start glowing through the fabric of my shirt—and to catch the Unseelie’s eye at any second. But Elessir was studying Christopher, who still stood at my side, and a different fear gripped me. Would he be able to tell what Christopher was?

And more importantly, that Christopher was vulnerable?

Putting on what I hoped would be the best poker face in the history of time, I said to Elessir, “Thanks for agreeing to meet us on such short notice.” As I spoke I poked Christopher’s side, and took the chance that he’d get the hint.
Sit down, you
. He did, but grudgingly, taking the chair across from Jude.

Only then did Elessir resume his own place. “No, Miss Thompson,” he said, his every word resonating like a bell cast from purest cordiality, “I should be thanking you for consenting to spare me some of your valuable time.”

He flashed me an unnervingly beautiful smile. Caught between it and the richness of his voice, I found myself remembering his singing—and almost relaxed. My memory whispered of the sweetness of a Sidhe hand upon my brow and a Sidhe voice twining like a vine through my hearing, and of floating anchored by nothing but a pair of titanium eyes. That tiny part of my mind wondered if Elessir could set off the same floating within me. It wanted him to try.

Then the necklace nipped at my mind, sharp and hard, and drove that dangerous wavering within me out of my consciousness. Only a layer of faint warmth all over my flesh remained, and suddenly Elessir’s voice was nothing more than a voice. I nearly leapt right out of my chair and kissed Christopher on the spot. His magic had worked. Score one for the home team.

But I remained where I was, a lot more comfortable now behind my poker face. “You’re welcome,” I said, and wondered if I imagined the surprise in Elessir’s eyes at the nonchalance of my reply. “I’ll feel better about this little dinner date, though, if you’ll tell us what you want.”

The Unseelie reacted well, I had to admit. He turned his charming smile around to Jude and Christopher, and the momentary surprise I’d thought I’d seen vanished beneath his poised veneer. “An introduction to your friends would be a proper beginning,” he suggested, “as I don’t believe we had the chance to get acquainted at the bar.”

“Jude Lawrence,” piped Jude in a tone a little too friendly for comfort. I shot her a glance, wondering if she should be the one wearing the Warded necklace and whether I could kick her underneath the table, but I didn’t have to try. She shook her head as though to clear it, and took on a far more normal expression. “Not Judy or Judith, if you don’t mind; Jude.”

“As you wish,” Elessir replied, before turning a quizzical eye on the Newfoundlander at my side. “And you, mortal?” he inquired, lifting his margarita up for another sip.

“Christopher MacSimidh.” His expression and voice, in direct contrast to Jude’s, were harsh.

Just behind his glass, the Sidhe grinned darkly. “Said like a man who’s been taught not to give his name to the scary, spooky fey.” When Christopher only glowered, Elessir darted his head forward and added, “Boo.”

“Quit it,” I demanded, perversely pleased to see Elessir being aggravating. It made it easier to keep a stony face of my own while I strove to ignore the heat of the pendant in my shirt. “This is not getting me any answers!”

But our waiter returned as I spoke, bringing three glasses of water, a basket of chips, and small bowls of salsa. “You folks ready to order?” he asked us cheerfully.

Elessir lifted a slim finger to call a time out on the beginning of my interrogation, and then turned a guileless expression upon the young man ready and waiting, armed with notepad and pencil, to jot down our requests. Since the waiter was looking at me, I asked for the first thing that came to mind: basic beef tacos.

The waiter then looked at the Sidhe. Elessir flipped into drawl mode and said magnanimously, gesturing at Christopher and Jude, “Go ’head an’ git these nice folks first.”

In short, clipped syllables Christopher asked for the same thing I did, not once taking his eyes off the Unseelie singer. Even as he took Jude’s and Elessir’s orders, the waiter seemed unable to take his eyes off the Sidhe as well; as he walked away he sneaked one last look, shook his head, and mouthed ‘Nah’.

As long as the waiter was in view Elessir pretended not to notice, but his gaze turned devilish as soon as we were alone again. I smirked at him. “You milk this Elvis thing for all it’s worth, don’t you? Do you hang out in Burger Kings in Tennessee?”

Elessir gave me a broader, darker grin. “No,” he said, the drawl switching off, “but I almost caused a riot last time I went to Graceland—you should have seen the staff when I got onto the second floor. Should I be flattered you’ve done your homework on me?”

“I wouldn’t be,” I said bluntly. Nothing the Warders had told me in email had been flattering, to say the least. “And I still don’t buy that you look that much like Elvis Presley. You’ve got to be pulling something magical.”

“That’s the second time you’ve made disparaging remarks about my appearance. It might lead me to believe you find it objectionable. Would you prefer I resemble someone else?” Elessir’s gaze slid meaningfully to Christopher. “Him, perhaps?”

Christopher snapped with withering disgust, “For God’s sake, we came here for this?” But a betraying, all too visible blush reddened his cheeks, stretching past his ears to the back of his neck.

“Come now, don’t be modest,” the Sidhe crooned, surveying the mortal male in unrepentant merriment. Then he dropped his voice to a confiding velvet murmur, casting a sidelong glance at me. “You haven’t yet explored the possibilities with Miss Thompson? Perhaps she prefers tall, rugged mortals with accents.”

Now it was my turn to blush, though I hoped my color hid it, and I added a scowl for good measure. “This is not helping,” I interrupted, hoping he’d back off before Christopher started throwing punches across the table—or I did. How the hell had he picked up on an attraction I was barely starting to acknowledge myself? It had to be a lucky guess, or else he was just being an asshole.

I hoped.