Faerie Blood: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Changeling Chronicles Book 1) (13 page)

“Oh shit.” I backed away, fetching up against the block’s door. I’d handed every one of my iron weapons over, and had nothing but a few sopping-wet spells hidden in the inside pockets of my coat. And salt, which only worked on dead things.

Idiot.

The horse leaped into the air, talons outstretched. I instinctively threw myself to the ground and rolled over, getting a second soaking for my trouble. I ducked into the building’s shadow and yelled for help.

Unsurprisingly, nobody showed up. I was only a human, way down on their priority list.

Hooves tapped on the path as the beast stalked towards me, huge head swinging. The creature’s skin was blue-black, its mane thick and soft. There was wild beauty in its movements, but I’d never been a horse person. And its teeth, when it opened its mouth, were like sharp white razors.

I’d backed against the wall. If I ran, it could jump fifteen feet and catch me.

The beast charged. I dodged to the side, my back catching against its hooves—it had moved fast enough to turn into a blur, and changed directions just as quickly so it didn’t collide with the wall. I jumped to my feet, digging into my pockets for—anything.

The kelpie waved a talon and a whip-like cord of water latched itself around my ankle, yanking me into the air. The contents of my pockets—spells, jars and all—fell to the ground and smashed. Blood rushed to my head as the summery garden swung around me. Wet hair hung around my face. I fought to free myself, but the whip—whatever it was—gripped like an iron cuff.

Teeth closed around my other ankle, and I screamed.

Before the teeth could chomp down, the beast’s feet slipped out from underneath it. I fell, landing in a rolling movement on instinct and skidding to a halt on the grass.

The kelpie howled, flailing. It had walked into whatever I’d dropped from my pockets, and something hurt it. Wait. I’d carried a jar of iron filings in there as a backup plan. Small amounts of iron weren’t painful, but coupled with broken glass and the kelpie’s feet were torn up.

So was my ankle. I got to my feet, wincing, as the kelpie leaped over my head in one smooth motion. It disappeared into the fountain, and a final wave of water crashed over my head. I spluttered and gasped, eyes stinging, but the faerie horse didn’t reappear.

I groaned, brushing sodden hair from my face and checked the damage. Its teeth had pierced the skin and the wound already itched like crazy.

“You total
dick!
” I screamed at the flat door. “I hope your beauty spell gives you both hives.”

Alain’s face appeared in the window and she mouthed something at me. I moved closer, my ankle throbbing with each step.

“What?” I snapped.

“I saw something,” she whispered.

“You saw—the missing kids?”

“No. But someone came here. The Lady of the Tree. She’s one of the most powerful Old Summer spirits in this part of the country. She lives in the Old Oak in Pleasance Park.”

Before I could respond, she’d closed the window.

Okay.
So I had a clue. Anger still burned inside my veins as I hobbled across the lawn to the exit. First, I’d get my weapons back. Then, I’d see what this Lady of the Tree might know. But like hell was I ever walking into a faerie’s lair unarmed again.

By the time I’d limped home, my ankle was bleeding worse than ever. Luckily, Isabel had left the insta-dry spell on the threshold because of the rain last week, so once I walked into the building, all the water immediately vanished from my clothes. Sometimes living with a witch was kind of awesome. I unlocked the flat door, hobbling inside on one leg.

Isabel raised an eyebrow. “What happened this time?”

“Faeries.” I spat out the word like a curse. “I’ve had bloody enough of them.”

“You’re bloody enough,” she commented, looking at my ankle. “I’ll get a healing salve.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” I limped into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. Isabel was rarely fazed by my tendency to get injured at least once a week.

One healing salve and a microwaveable meal later and I felt slightly less like death. I watched Isabel set up her latest batch of spells while waiting for the healing to kick in. Our version of home entertainment. She didn’t want a TV, and I found they made me jumpy as hell on bad days anyway. Having a piskie flying around was enough.

“You stink of kelpie,” Erwin informed me.

“That’s because one tried to take a bite out of me,” I said. “Have you ever heard of the Lady of the Tree?”

“The Lady of the Tree?” He spoke in a reverent tone. “She’s the wisest of Summer’s faeries.”

“Summer, huh.” I’d never had reason to really think about the distinctions between Seelie and Unseelie—all faeries in this realm were unpredictable anyway. If a faerie had been behind the disappearances, which realm had it come from? Might Summer or Winter be involved? Not that I could do anything if they were. And where I’d been in Faerie didn’t fit into the usual rules.

It killed me, having to contact Swanson again and tell him I still didn’t have any new leads. I wasn’t about to walk into faerie territory again while bleeding like this, so I’d have to delay until my ankle fully healed. All I had was a nebulous clue and a name. A faerie. Considering the way my luck was going, I couldn’t count on this Lady of the Tree, however wise, knowing about the disappearances either.

My phone buzzed again as soon as I’d reached the sofa after setting it down on the coffee table, and I hesitated before getting up. As I’d already called Swanson, it must be either Larsen or the landlord, neither of whom I particularly wanted to talk to.

Isabel got there first. “Since when did you have the Mage Lord’s number?”

What?
“I don’t,” I said, taking the phone from her. “He doesn’t have mine either…
Larsen.
I’m going to kill him.”

“Who’s on your hit list next?” asked Vance Colton. I’d hit the ‘accept call’ button while still speaking.

“Larsen.” I pressed the phone to my ear. “He should know better than to give out my number to strange men.”

“Strange men? I’m insulted. I think you know me quite well by now,” he said. “What are you doing?”

Er… “I’m at home.” No reason to mention my little excursion.

“Come to the manor.”

“Was there a ‘please’ in there somewhere?”

“Please do me the honour of coming to the manor. I’ve left you alone for a day, which means you’ve likely got yourself into trouble.”

“He’s got a point,” said Isabel, who was listening in.

I sighed. “Right, fine. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

CHAPTER TEN

Lord Colton didn’t answer the door this time. A young woman dressed in secretary-style work gear did, and gave me a friendly smile that disconcerted me a little.

“You’re Ivy, are you?” she asked. “I’m Wanda. It’s been a while since we’ve had any new blood here.”

Speaking of blood, my ankle had finally stopped bleeding, though blood stained my ankle and covered my left boot. Wanda, however, didn’t seem to notice. She must be one of his staff, but it threw me that there was nothing magical about her appearance. I’d expected everyone here to walk around in cloaks like
Harry Potter
extras.

“Is Lord Colton waiting for me?”

“He’s in there.” She pointed at a door at the corridor’s end.

I walked along, wondering why he hadn’t invited me into his office. The answer became obvious when I passed by the door to the room we’d spoken in last time. At least five people stood inside, looking like they waited in line. Wanting to speak to him? What was he doing, holding out on them?

I opened the door at the end of the corridor. To my surprise, it led into an open conservatory which looked out across bright green lawns. Not as bright as the ones on half-blood territory, but the garden looked well-tended, with flowerbeds Isabel would be proud of and hedges carved into animal shapes around the edges. A grand piano sat in the corner of the conservatory, and a number of potted plants were scattered around the polished floor. I stopped. I never did like plants, and after my latest escape, I expected to find faeries hiding in every corner.

Nearby, Lord Colton spoke into his phone, giving some kind of order. As usual. How many mages did he command? Had to be at least fifty. He was responsible for the whole region. This house must be their main headquarters, but it didn’t look as though many other mages were present. Otherwise someone would be back there, dealing with his visitors.

He saw me and nodded. “Yes, I’ll speak to him later. I’ve got a client bleeding all over my floor.”

Bleeding? Oh, shit. I’d left bloody footprints all the way from the door.

“What did you do?” he asked. “I spoke to you five minutes ago. You can’t have been attacked already.”

“You called me when I was in the middle of healing up,” I said. “No chance to wash my shoes.”

Technically I did have time, but I wasn’t used to walking into fancy places like this. Larsen didn’t care if I got blood everywhere when I walked into the clean-up guild.

“Quentin, please clean the blood from the floor,” he said.

A short figure popped out from behind a plant pot, barely up to my knees. His tanned, knobbly skin made me recoil.

“Faerie,” I hissed.

“I’d kindly ask you not to insult my assistant,” said Lord Colton, putting his phone away. Or rather, pushing it at thin air, where it promptly vanished.

“What? Me or him?”

The faerie bristled, glaring at me with beady bird-like eyes.

“Quentin here is my assistant.”

“You have a faerie slave?”

“Slave?” Quentin looked insulted.

Lord Colton eyed me. “I thought you knew about faeries. Brownies have a compulsion to clean houses—well, any building. If I didn’t tell him to, he’d do it anyway. Once they’ve moved into a home, they see themselves as guests of whoever lives there.”

“And that’s not exploitative?” Sure, I knew brownies, but I’d never have pictured one in a place like this.

“Not if I give him the choice in the matter. Quentin, you can leave.”

The faerie looked up briefly, shrugged, and carried on cleaning.

I blinked. “That seems… wrong.”

“He does as he wishes. Not unlike yourself. Did I hear you were poking around the half-blood district?”

Dammit. He’d probably had people tailing me. “Yes. They’re the closest to the faeries, so I figured they’d know if anyone decided to pop over here for a visit.”

“And did they?”

“No clue. They won’t listen to reason, and one of them sent a kelpie to take a bite out of me.”

“You’re good at making enemies, aren’t you?”

I glared at him. “You try reasoning with a half-blood. It’s like expecting common sense from a troll.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Perhaps. I’ve spoken with half-bloods before and found them amenable, but perhaps they’re more respectful of authority figures.”

He did
not
just say that. “Wish I’d called you first. See how you like getting chewed on by a kelpie.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re giving me that look again.”

“What? Like I’m about to skewer you?”

“You look more like you’re pouting.”

“I don’t pout.” What game was he playing this time? “You know there are people in your office waiting to talk to you, right?”

“Unfortunately,” he said.

“What, isn’t that your job?” I’d thought he was dedicated to his work. Obsessively so, even.

“We’ve dealt with all the priority cases today,” he said. “These are people asking for favours. It’s our policy to help any mage who needs assistance, but there are always those who take advantage.”

“Because they can afford it?” I sure as hell couldn’t. Even if someone blew my house up in a magical explosion, I’d have to go to Larsen for help.

Ugh. Larsen. I repressed a shudder. He’d screamed the place down when I’d admitted to losing the changelings, and told me not to set foot inside there again until I’d caught them. Unfortunately, I’d used every last drop of changeling blood in the last tracking spell, so the odds of finding them again were needle-in-a-haystack low.

Larsen could wait. Finding those kids was more important.

Lord Colton frowned at me. “Our rates aren’t extortionate. Your boss underpays you.”

I snorted. “You tell
him
that. In fact, you’re welcome to. He’s pinned the blame for the changelings’ escape on me.”

“What?”

Dammit. Why the hell had I told him? Every piece of information I gave him could be used against me. He was an asshat, but he seemed to have got over the accusing stage by now.

I shrugged. “I’ll handle it. Once we’re done with this case.”

“He’s asked you to bring the changelings back?”