Doppelganger Blood (10 page)

My eyes stop on a group of people who are most definitely not Fairies.  Each of them has hair so red, it brings to mind the setting sun when it touches the horizon.  Their eyes are a brown so deep, they
are like dark chocolate and look as delicious.  Their skin is tanned and freckled with such a healthy glow it makes you want to reach out and touch them to make sure they’re real, not simply a mirage.  Tinkling laughter is coming from the group.  It is not the beautiful laugh of the Angels.  The laughter of these beings is enchanting.  It calls to you and makes you want to frolic with them.

Whoa, frolic with them?  Shaking my head, I realize some sort of enchantment
really is emanating from them.  I turn a questioning eye to Isla.  “Elves,” she says.  “Be careful.”

I don’t ask her why because I’m pretty sure I already know.  Whatever enchantments they weave draw people to them and, I suspect, put them under the
Elves’ control.  “Definitely,” I reply.  The rest of the group has joined us and I notice Gunnar’s eyes are firmly directed toward the Elves.  Probably best to get him out of here.  “Come on,” I say, putting a firm hand on Gunnar’s arm.  He walks forward but his eyes never leave the Elves until we are safely behind the throne room’s doors. 

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he asks, “Who were they?”

“Elves,” Adriel says with a pinched face.  “You will want to avoid them if you do not want to become their slave.”  Gunnar’s eyes widen in surprise but he doesn’t say anything.

I lead them across the room and behind Dagda’s throne.  I open the do
or which leads directly into his office and am relieved to find my gorgeous husband with him.  Kallen’s face breaks out into a huge grin and he comes forward to give me a hug.  He stops mid-step when he sees my Grandfather and his
friend
.  He turns questioning eyes to me.  I shake my head slightly and give him an ‘I’ll tell you about it later’ look.

Dagda’s eyes have narrowed in my grandfather’s direction as well.  The two men size each other up and I believe they each find the other lacking.  Despite this, Dagda says in his velvety voice, “King Sveargith, welcome.  I am certain this has come as quite a shock.  May I offer you a scotch?”  He holds his own glass a little higher.

Clearing his throat, Grandpa says, “It certainly has.  A scotch would be nice, thank you.”

Wow
, such civility on both sides.  Amazing.  Dagda nods to Sindri who quickly walks to the table with the scotch to pour some out for Grandpa.  Turning to the rest of my party, Dagda walks forward and says, “Welcome.  It has been a very long time since I have had the pleasure of a Skin Walker’s company.”  He leans forward and kisses Jadyn’s cheek and then he shakes Conor’s hand.  “Can I offer the two of you a drink, as well?”

“Definitely,” Conor says which earns him a disapproving look from Jadyn.  “No, thank you,” she says.

Dagda nods in Gunnar’s direction.  A show of respect for his station as guard but of course he doesn’t offer him a drink.  He’s on duty.  Lastly, he brings his eyes to Mohana.  “I did not realize we would have the pleasure of a Seductress Witch.”  I am wondering why his words are full of venom when Dagda says, “You will find most Fairies immune to your…charms, as you see I am.”

Oh.  Mohana was projecting someone else’s façade.  I assume Tana’s.  It is difficult to see the blush
flooding her cheeks due to the dark pigment of her skin, but it is definitely there.  She’s not here five minutes and someone is already calling her out on her lame ability.

Startled, my grandfather asks Mohana, “What does he mean?”

Petting his arm, Mohana purrs, “It is simply habit, my sweet.”  Grandpa isn’t buying it but he doesn’t say more.  He takes the scotch Sindri offers him and takes a stiff drink.

Kallen closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms for the hug we both need.  Stepping back after a moment,
I say, “I see you and Kegan were successful with the Sasquatch.”

A darkness passes over his face before he can school it.  “Yes,” he says tightly.  I want to ask him more about it, but I suspect it is a story best not shared with everyone.  I let it drop.

“Sindri, please have chairs brought in so all of our guests may sit,” Dagda orders.  To the rest, he says, “As the only ones from a closed realm, I thought we should discuss a few diplomatic and safety issues before you are thrown into the melee.”

Good thinking.  I admit, I need
this information as much as our visitors do.  “Thanks, Sindri,” I say, accepting the chair he places behind me.  He smiles and directs another Fairy where to put the two chairs he is carrying.

When we are all situated, Dagda sits down behind his desk.  It doesn’t escape my notice
that this is a bit of a power play on his part.  He has announced himself to be the most important person in the room by separating himself from us with his desk.  I’ve never really thought about it before, but from the look on Grandpa’s face, the same thought has crossed his mind.  He is not at all happy about being placed in a subordinate light.  The testosterone in the room is on the rise and I’m afraid I may start sprouting hair in unwanted places from it.

“It is quite an array of races you have assembled here,” Jadyn says.  I don’t miss the assessing gaze she gives my biological father. 
He is handsome, after all.

“Indeed,” Dagda says.  “It has been millennia since so many have come together in one place and there are reasons for
this.”

“We’ve picked up on the animosity out there,” Conor says.

“Can you guarantee we are safe here?” Grandpa asks.  It sounds more like a challenge than a question.

Coolly, Dagda says, “I can guarantee you are safe providing you do not seek out trouble.”

Pretty soon, they’re going to be smacking each other in the face with gloves and fighting a duel.  I know which one would win.  Grandpa would be no competition for Dagda.  “Can we get back to the topic at hand?  You guys can snipe at each other later.”

If Adriel hadn’t snuck off when she caught sight of Raziel talking to
a Faun in the great hall, she would be pinching me about now.  I half expect Kallen to put a warning hand on my shoulder but he actually looks amused.  Dagda and my grandfather do not.

Regardless, Dagda does get back on topic.  “I realize you may have limited information regarding these other races from your mythology in your realm.  Most of them left the Cowan realm long ago but tales of them still exist.  Unfortunately, as have the stories of the Fae, the information has been greatly watered down.  Very little remains of the truth.”

“Is this to be a lesson in Cowan mythology or are you going to get to the point?” Grandpa huffs.  Seeming proud of her ‘man’, Mohana wraps her arm through his again in encouragement. 

I feel Dagda pulling magic and the danger levels in this room have surpassed any we walked through to get here.  “Grandpa, please let him finish.”  Dagda stiffens slightly at my use of the familiar term, but what he doesn’t know is how much my grandfather hates to be called Grandpa.
  Why should he care what I call him, anyway?

Red faced, my grandfather doesn’t respond.  After a moment, Dagda continues.  “
The Dragons are going through a time of great change in their realm.  Because of your granddaughter’s,” this word seems to stick on his tongue like a stray dog hair, “efforts, they have changed their diet from Goblin to beef.”

“They ate
Goblins?” Jadyn says in surprise.  I’m not sure if she’s aghast that they ate them or that they stopped.  Goblins don’t have the best reputation in the Cowan realm.

Dagda inclines his head.  “Yes.  Once, the
Goblins were little more than a food source as they had the intellect of cattle, but as they evolved, they became sentient beings.  The smarter ones separated from those who had not moved up the evolutionary ladder and they struck a bargain with the Dragons.  They offered up the less intelligent members of their society as food in exchange for their own freedom.”

Mohana gasps.  “How barbaric.”

“They’re Dragons, not bunnies,” I grumble.  I don’t know why I’m defending them, I helped bring about the end of this practice.  Kallen gives me a questioning look but I ignore it. 

“No, they are fire breathing monsters,” Grandpa says.

“Probably best not to share your opinion with any of them,” Kallen says dryly.

“But you are correct about the fire breathing,” my biological father says.  “Most have a range of approximately ten feet.  It is best to keep at least this much space between you and one of them.”

“Ryu, the one we met outside, has a longer range due to his side.  Best not to go near him at all.  And you should probably avoid telling him you are related to me,” I say.

Grandpa turns hard eyes
in my direction.  “Someone else you have offended beyond redemption?”

Sitting straighter in my chair, I say, “What I did was melt his insides so that he became a pile of scales on the floor while keeping him conscious enough to feel the pain before I healed him and made him good as new.”  This shuts Grandpa up.  Jadyn and Conor look at me with renewed respect
, or fear I can’t tell which, and Mohana looks upon me with disdain.  It’s mutual.

“A deed which went a long way in convincing the
Dragons to discontinue their diet of sentient beings,” Kallen adds, pride in his voice.

When I turn my attention back to Dagda, I see pride on his face as well.  I try not to squirm in my seat.  I don’t like them being proud of me for committing such a horrific act.  “Moving on,” I say.

Dagda takes his cue.  “Yes, moving on.  The Sasquatch and Centaurs are here under a temporary truce.  Their races have been at war for as long as anyone can remember.”

“Why?” Jadyn asks.  “What could beings so different have to war over?”

“The same things most wars are over,” Kallen says.  “Power and land.”

“Are they from the same realm?” Conor asks.

“No,” Dagda says.  “But the Sasquatch are hard on the land they occupy in their realm.  The race as a whole has suffered from an extreme
mutation of the tyrosinase gene.
   
Because of this, they have very little pigment in their skin, hair and eyes. 
Though we may see this as a defect, this lack of pigment is prized among the Sasquatch.  The less melanin in their bodies, the happier they are.  To maintain this effect, they eat foods rich in flavonoids.  In their systems, this further inhibits the production of melanin.”

“Um,” I interrupt.  “I appreciate the chemistry lesson, but what does their lack of pigment have to do with the
Centaurs?”

“Patience, my love,” Kallen whispers while Dagda narrows his eyes at me, debating if
he wants to chastise me or not.  I sigh and sit back in my chair.

“Unfortunately, the
Sasquatch live in a realm lacking arable land.  Their realm is mostly harsh climates and craggy landscapes, meaning they have to plant the same ground season after season, never leaving an area fallow.  As their main diet is plants, this is a problem for their continued existence.”

“The
Centaurs’ realm, on the other hand,” Kallen says, “is rich with arable land.”

The picture is becoming clear. 
“And the Sasquatch want it.”

He nods.  “Correct.  Their rationale is that the
Centaurs are primarily meat eaters.  They do not need the land as much as the Sasquatch.”

Dumbfounded, I ask, “So, what, the
Sasquatch want to trade realms with them?”

“It is a little more complicated than that,” Dagda says with a small
, amused smile.  “When the conflict first began, they wanted to share the Centaur realm.  The Centaur were not willing to give up their hunting lands to produce crops.  They argued they would have less game to hunt if their natural habitats were taken from them.  When the Sasquatch met resistance from the Centaurs, they declared war.  They have been fighting ever since.” 

As he speaks, I know
this information has been etched onto my to-do list.  Someday, I will need to bring an end to their war with some mutually agreed upon compromise.  I’m not going to worry about that today.  One problem at a time.  “What about the Fauns?  They share the realm with the Centaurs, right?”  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Grandpa scowling at me.  Apparently, I’m supposed to know all this.  I want to stick my tongue out at him, but with great self-control, I don’t.

“They do,” Kallen says.  “But the
Fauns are not really a part of the war.  Being both meat and plant eaters, they scavenge their food from the same lands the Centaurs hunt.  A symbiotic relationship exists between the two races.  They cohabitate in peace and the Fauns want nothing to do with the war.  They have agreed to abide by whatever terms the Centaurs lay out.”

How nice for the
Centaurs.  I wonder if this has anything to do with the size difference between the two races.  Being half goat instead of half horse, the Centaurs would be a mighty foe to the Fauns.  “Got it,” I say.

“Is this the end of our lesson?” Grandpa asks, his tone unnecessarily snippy.  What is his problem?  Dagda is doing a good thing here educating us so we don’t go out there and make things worse.
  Or get ourselves killed.