Faerie Blood (22 page)

The mischief in Elessir’s sapphire eyes dimmed a bit at my tone. He studied me critically—and for an instant, to my alarm, his gaze dipped along my shirt. Anyone else I would have suspected of stealing a look at my breasts, but I was a lot more worried that Elessir might sense the necklace.
Keep scowling
, I commanded myself, and hoped with all my might that if I pretended there was nothing to look at, he would look somewhere else.

He quirked one eyebrow, which made him resemble a cross between Elvis and Leonard Nimoy, and then he met my eyes once more. “A thousand pardons,” he said, and though I read no such thing in his expression his voice became contriteness itself. “You are correct. Having asked you to meet with me in the first place, I am most remiss to have failed to explain my purpose to you at once.”

I kept my answer short and expectant. “I’m listening.”

“As I mentioned to you before, I am here on behalf of my Court to discuss matters of… shall we say… mutual interest.”

“This means what, exactly?” I demanded, lifting both of my own brows in unspoken answer to Elessir’s little one-browed quirk—and squelching the voice in the back of my mind that fretted over whether I’d pick up that same quirk as part and parcel of the Faerie blood package.

The singer chuckled, low and rich, a sound that hit my ears like the aural answer to finely aged Scotch. “It can mean a great number of things,” he said, “but tonight, it means that I am authorized by the Queen of Air and Darkness herself to extend to you an invitation to become one of us—to join our Court.”

Christopher smacked the table with enough vigor to rattle the ice in the water glasses, then jabbed a forefinger at Elessir. “You can’t tell me the Unseelie fuckin’ Court’s so desperate for new blood they’re trawlin’ for halfbreeds now!” I’d never heard a man snarl before, but Christopher snarled now, his accent surging up like a squall. What I saw in his eyes nearly made me pull him and Jude out of the restaurant right then and there: rage, and behind that, terror.

I grabbed Christopher’s arm, but before I could speak Elessir inquired, cool air against the Newfoundlander’s fire, “And if I were to inform you that such is in fact my very intention?”

“Kendis is half-human! The Unseelie can’t want her!”

Elessir’s upper lip curled into a sneer that might have been part of his Elvis impersonation if not for the disdain that turned his eyes to dark azure frost. “She is also half fey,” he replied, “with the blood of the most powerful Seelie mage born in a recent age. I assure you, Mr. MacSimidh, we are most interested in Miss Thompson.”

Aggravation that Elessir pronounced Christopher’s last name correctly flared through me; it seemed wrong somehow, like an intrusion or an insult. But I pushed it back and shook Christopher’s shoulder hard. It took him effort to tear his attention off the Unseelie—but he looked at me as I blurted out his name.

His eyes scalded me in green and gold, but I kept my hand where it was. “I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I breathed. “Can you trust me on that?”

Tell me yes
! I found myself hoping Christopher would somehow hear that thought, maybe through the current of energy that kept crackling between us. I thought of his smile, and of the anticipation of playing music for him. Maybe even with him. With all else that I’d discovered in the last two days, I needed this man who could kindle a hearth fire within me with one smile to pick up on my silent plea.
I need you to tell me yes
!

Christopher stared at me hotly for what seemed a minor eternity; then, though his eyes remained molten amber, some of his fury drained from his face. “Yeah,” he whispered at last.

He wasn’t visibly shaking, but his shoulder quivered like a plucked violin string beneath my hand—and prickled sharply. Had Elessir’s invitation set him off? Or something more? I desperately wanted to know, but now was not the time. So I squeezed his shoulder and said, “Then amp it down, big guy. For me.”

“By all means, ‘big guy,’“ Elessir purred, “we’re all friends here. Let’s keep it neighborly.”

Right then Jude spilled her water. I’d have thought it an accident if her glass hadn’t tipped over on the precise trajectory to spill right into the Unseelie’s lap, and if a smug little grin hadn’t popped up in the middle of her profuse apologies at the precise moment Elessir wasn’t looking. “I am so terribly sorry,” she babbled, thrusting her napkin at him and then grabbing his and mine for good measure. “I’m just the biggest klutz, I’m always spilling stuff, Kendis can back me up on this! I am just so, so sorry!”

“Think nothing of it,” Elessir said through gritted teeth. It takes phenomenal urbanity to maintain one’s poise with a lapful of ice water, and though he’d claimed to be over nine hundred years old, apparently the Sidhe had not yet perfected his. Just enough good old-fashioned pique to give him away darkened his eyes. The sight perked me up enough that I helpfully waved down our waiter, begging him for extra napkins.

Christopher settled back in his chair, taking his time before holding out his own napkin. “In the name o’ bein’ neighborly,” he rumbled, eyes glinting with an irony that almost matched Elessir’s.

In the middle of this storm of confusion the food showed up, giving me a bit more time to figure out how to address the Sidhe’s invitation while we got the plates arranged. Then I looked Elessir square in the face and said, “So, about your proposal, then: no.”

The singer regarded me thoughtfully but did not pause in the act of bringing a bite to his mouth, and he took the time to chew and swallow before making his reply. “Might I trouble you for your reasoning?”

“Easy.” The thought of Elessir with damp trousers was inordinately cheering, rather like how imagining your audience in their underwear is supposed to help overcome stage fright. I didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Not interested in working for the Dark Side, thanks.”

Elessir’s other brow rose to join its mate. Then he glanced around the table, at Jude’s innocent expression and Christopher’s truculent glare, and at last back to me. “Ah,” he chortled, “is this where I’m supposed to say ‘Join me, and together we will rule the galaxy as father and son’? You seem like a cleverer girl than that.”

“Are you saying the Unseelie aren’t the bad guys of Faerie?” asked Jude, seemingly raptly caught up in Elessir’s every word. I hoped she was faking it. The stunt with the glass suggested she was on top of things, but my friend had a suspiciously bright gleam in her eyes. With the Sidhe’s impact on me, not to mention what I’d learned about the fate of my dad, any sign of overly warm attention to the singer was worrisome.

Note to self: get Jude a Ward of her own.

“Precisely, Miss Lawrence,” answered Elessir, constructing a fajita from the sizzling vegetables and tortillas he’d been brought. “Far be it from me to denigrate the
Star Wars
movies, but it’s rather juvenile to base a personal philosophy on a space opera, don’t you think?”

“That’s rich,” I said, “coming from a guy dressed like he just escaped the set of
Fun in Acapulco
.”

Elessir burst into laughter, an incandescent smile springing out across his face. “Touché,” he said, winking at me over his fajita as he took out a portion of it in several small, swift bites. Then he went on, “Nevertheless, my point remains. Opposing forces such as Jedi and Sith, man and machine, light and darkness, good and evil… they’re all simplified in cinema, condensed to two-hour servings an audience may take home and dissect to their heart’s content. In real life, such things are seldom simple.

“True, Seelie and Unseelie have stood in opposition since long before your race began to measure time. But even those names, given us by your people, are simplified—Blessed and Unblessed Courts, indeed. Blessed by whom?” The Sidhe smirked as he swung his gaze around the table. “While I intend no offense to any religious beliefs you three might hold, my people have not found that human deities have the slightest interest in us.”

Christopher’s brooding glower held fast as he grumbled, “Don’t even try to make the Unseelie out as good and decent. None of us are buyin’ it.”

“Do try to catch up, Mr. MacSimidh,” Elessir retorted with delicately barbed patience. “You’re falling behind.”

“Seelie and Unseelie are outmoded, black-and-white concepts in a world that exists in shades of gray,” I cut in. “We got that. Move on.”

The Sidhe singer gave me a look even more guileless—and more worrisome—than Jude’s. “By all means. What may I do to demonstrate the good faith of my Court?”

I paused, my mind racing as I sought the best path to the information I wanted. Millicent had been clear about the difficulty of getting an answer out of the Unseelie. Aggie, though, had said that the Sidhe wouldn’t lie if asked something point blank—in other words, the direct approach. I knew it. So I ran with it.

“Answering a few questions would be good.” I ticked off each one by lifting a finger off my fork. “One, who were the Seelie at the Penguin? Two, do you know anything about why my boss has no clue who I am anymore?” More irritation than was wise got into my voice with those last words, but I couldn’t help it. It scared the hell out of me that I could be wiped out of someone’s memory as easily as deleting a file off of a computer, and I couldn’t stop thinking of it happening to Jude. Or Aggie. Or, though I’d known him for only two days, Christopher. But I couldn’t afford fright—not when we needed to find Millicent. I held that back for now, though, unwilling to put that question forth quite yet. “Three… I’ll get to that.”

“How amusing.” Elessir’s eyes sparked with interest and challenge; a feline smile slid along his mouth. He finished off his fajita, then took up his margarita glass once more and twirled it around within his fingers. “You decline the invitation of my Court, and yet demand information of me. That seems hardly equitable.”

I speared the last bit of my taco onto my fork, ate it without looking, and drawled, “Humor me.”

Elessir gave me another luminous smile. “If you put it that way, darlin’,” he drawled right back, “Ah’ll jes’ ask for only a couple lil’ ol’ favors in exchange for tellin’ you what you wanna know.”

“Figures,” Christopher grunted, while Jude looked back and forth between us like a spectator at a tennis match. “Tell him to fuck off! You can’t bargain with the Unseelie!”

He had a grip on that rage, but the terror I’d glimpsed behind it was leaking through; Christopher’s eyes looked haunted. It triggered a strong, distracting need in me to touch him, and I didn’t care if Elessir noticed; I slipped my hand under the table and squeezed Christopher’s knee. “Tell us what you have in mind,” I ordered Elessir as I did. “But if I don’t like what I hear, I reserve the right to tell you to, as the gentleman beside me has suggested, fuck off.”

“Free will is the hallmark of all sentient beings,” the singer agreed without batting a single black eyelash or shifting the angle of his gaze. His smile grew ever so slightly larger and more catlike. “And just because I like your face, I’ll even answer the first question for free. The Seelie at the Electric Penguin were Malandor, a Seelie lord, and his lieutenants Tarrant and Melisanda. Malandor is a mage of no small repute in both Courts of the Sidhe.” His gaze bored into my own. “Furthermore, I’m given to understand that he is your mother’s brother.”

He couldn’t have staged a better reaction to that little announcement. Christopher jolted, Jude let out a squeak of shock, and I felt my blood turn to ice within me. “T-that—” I heard myself stammer, scowled, and fought to level my voice. “That bastard who put the whammy on me is my
uncle
?”

“That is what I said, my dear. Now, about your second question…”

Right. I forced myself back on track, though I was about to freak at the notion that the Sidhe who’d ensnared my will with his was a blood relation. “What do you want in exchange?” I said. Christopher’s hand slipped over mine, wrapping my fingers within his. That helped.

“My Court requires,” Elessir easily replied, “that I bring back either you yourself or confirmation that you possess the potential for your mother’s power. A simple test will give me the confirmation my Queen commands.”

“What kind of test?” My eyes narrowed.

“Power lies in blood, Miss Thompson. If you’ll permit me contact with just a few droplets of yours, it will suffice to tell me of the power that lies within it.” The Sidhe’s casual expression did not change; the smile still played across his lips, and his eyes still gleamed. But it seemed mask-like somehow, effectively concealing what was going on inside his beautiful head. He slipped one hand behind his back and brought out a tiny silver dagger. This he presented for my inspection. “I’ll need but a prick of one finger, nothing more.”

Christopher’s fingers tightened their grip on mine. Jude bit her lower lip, shooting an uncertain glance from Elessir to me. Me, I felt a shiver of dread trickle right down my spine. This had ‘bad idea’ written all over it. But did I have any choice but see it through?

“Can you answer my questions with something besides ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I can’t tell you’?” I asked, suspicious of loopholes, and Elessir evidently approved of my caution.

“Yes, I can,” he assured me, placing his hand in reach of mine. “The proverbial ball is in your court, darlin’. Your serve.”

How else could this backfire on me? “Before I say yes, promise you won’t be using this to harm me or any of my friends or family,” I insisted, hoping that Aggie had been right. I couldn’t think of anything more point-blank than this.

“Consider it promised. Neither by this act nor by your blood shall I harm you or your loved ones.”

“Heard and witnessed,” Christopher said. “The word of a Sidhe is binding, Unseelie, even for you.”

That was that, then. Praying I wasn’t doing something stupid despite my claim to Christopher, I held out my hand. “Get it over with.”

Elessir inclined his head and took my hand in one of his, then agilely flipped the dagger in his other one around into position. With a swift, light prick, he poked the tip of my middle finger.

Blood welled up in a bright scarlet bead, but the Sidhe pressed his fingertip over mine before the droplet could fall onto the table. A crackle of new energy shot through my system at that small pressure. The necklace beneath my shirt thrummed; the sense of a shield all over my skin grew stronger. Elessir seemed to sense it, too. His lips parted just a bit before he shivered infinitesimally and let go of my hand.