Here Be Monsters [2] (6 page)

To do such a thing rankled Thom. He'd always believed that there were two factions to the Sidhe—two courts. If an UnSeleighe became King he believed it would destroy the cohesive need for the unseen enemy to exist. They would join as a single peoples again and be weaker than before.
 

The UnSeleighe's blood was what the Fallen wanted. And if the vampire community at large in the Mortal Realm learned about the properties of his blood—they would clamor for it. They could even attempt to invade Underhill to retrieve it. Or set up traps at any known cairn portals to the human realms. Thom had to know which Winterbourne lived. And so far he had only found two.
 

Abyssinian.

"My lord?"
 

Thom looked up at Xe-Faun, all worry about the elf's loyalties vanishing. "How far have the police gotten in discovering who is killing the UnSeleighe? I know they blame Oberon—but the killings continue."
 

"I'm afraid not very far—they suspect the culprits are elves—Seleighe battling UnSeleighe. That they are making the deaths look as if the vampires are going after them. Blaming another race." He sighed. "I'm afraid they'll stupidly redirect their search on vampires again and not focus on the real—"
 

"Good."
 

Xe-Faun stopped and pursed his lips. "Good? Sir? I thought you would want the attention on the dead elves to move away from the vampires—"
 

"And focus on us?" Thom barked out. He'd not meant to be so loud, but he was frustrated and ill tempered. He'd gotten nothing from the Prince and wasn't sure what else to do with him. He couldn't keep him wounded and chained indefinitely.
 

"Sir," Xe-Faun said meekly. "I don't mean they should look at us—but what if they suspect Miss O'Donnell? What if she discovers your covenant with—"
 

Thom had his hand around Xe-Faun's neck in seconds. It was one of the few times he'd caught an elf off guard. Xe-Faun looked shocked, and Thom knew if Xe-Faun thought about it, he could easily overpower the human. But he was a loyal elf, and Oberon had given strict orders to follow the regent. "We do not speak about that in these halls—did I not make myself clear?"
 

Xe-Faun nodded, but his eyes were dark.
 

Thom released him and apologized. "I worry—that's all. Let the police chase after ghosts. It is my belief that another group learned of the legend of the Winterbourne," he watched Xe-Faun's features. He wanted that realization to sink in—what would that mean? "And they are killing off the UnSeleighe in order to find one."
 

The truth? Thom knew the truth of the ever-mounting dead bodies. Somehow the vampires had learned of the Winterbourne and were killing indiscriminately trying to find one. It meant they only had the rumor, and not the legend.

"But…they can't believe it's true."
 

"For a vampire, even a hint of the possibility could override common sense," Thom said.
 

"Yes I understand—but to just kill elves and taste their blood? I've seen what happens when a vampire drinks our blood. They can't be just…sampling it?"
 

"How would be know either way?" Thom half smiled. "If they did taste it—there wouldn't be any body left as evidence."
 

Xe-Faun nodded.
 

"But no matter—there
are
vampires out there killing our kind. We have to find them, and stop them. Can you do that, Xe-Faun?"
 

Xe-Faun came to attention, bowed and left the room.
 

Thom sat back in his chair.
 

He wanted things the way they'd been when Titania had been the Queen, and Oberon her King. He wanted that simpler life again, before the opening of the Cairns. Before….

Before the ugliness of his true home stepped in.
 

Underhill was changing. Emptying out into the Mortal Realm, a little every day. It was elven magic that kept it alive, that kept it in existence, but as their population dwindled here, Underhill had started to turn gray and then black along its borders.
 

Thom had never known it to
have
borders. But he'd seen them. And they grew closer ever day.
 

Even as the human world regained a bit of its magic. If even one Fallen returned to Underhill with the magic of a Winterbourne's blood in its belly—there would be no stopping it. It would destroy everything in its thirst for revenge. Thom learned of Oberon's cover ups—of how he'd gone out in the world to be a detective in search of justice, when all he'd really been about doing was finding the Fallen and killing them to protect his brother.
 

Thom had to stop it. And to stop it he had to make sure there were no other Winterbournes alive. He had one. And he still searched for the other one, hiding in the Mortal Realm. Once he had both—he would destroy the cairns, destroy the Winterbourne, and restore glory and power to the High Court.

- 7 -

Siobhan found shelter from the day a few blocks from where she'd left Song and the police. A few of the bullets had grazed her and the flesh over the wounds had healed, as had her throat. The muscle beneath them still smarted. She'd slept for five hours, buried in the basement of one of the numerous abandoned warehouses in the neighborhood. But then she'd come awake during the daylight hours. It didn't happen often—only when she was in need of blood.
 

Or when she was uncomfortable where she was or sensed danger. And being shoved into an abandoned waist high freezer in a crumbling building on the wrong side of town made her
really
uncomfortable. She liked the security of her own place behind her walls.
 

Kids came and went somewhere upstairs. A few had even ventured down below exploring. But she'd been able to put off enough of an
angry vibe of menace
that many of them ran off quickly.
 

Aby had always said he could sense when she was in a bad mood a mile away.
 

Abyssinian. Where
was
he? He was always appearing when she got into a spot. But last night there had been no sign of him. Not even a whisper. Had he even made it back from Underhill yet?
 

It's official—I'm worried.
 

There were more pressing concerns that weighed on her as she sat in the darkness of the basement.
 
Like…what the hell
was
that thing? It called itself
Maeve
. It felt like an elf—but had the outer workings of a vampire. It drank blood. It had fangs—sort of—and it'd been proven that an elf could not be turned. The process always killed it. And any vampire that tried to drink and elf's blood usually impersonated a pipe bomb.
 

The second problem she thought over was the weird elven S.W.A.T. team on the roof as the police came through the front door? She'd felt the elves behind her earlier in the night—heard their heartbeats. Why had they been following her? And when they knew where she was—why had they hung back?
 

Were they just observing?

They had to have been there because of that thing.
Or were they tracking Maeve and not me? Whoever they were—Maeve was afraid of them. Or cautious.

Och…so many unknowns. And somehow Song had been at the heart of it. Everyone converged on him, including Maeve. She'd gotten to him before anyone. Gotten to him…and tortured him. And he hadn't given Maeve what she wanted.
 

After what Siobhan had seen—that fact alone impressed her about Song.

"You play a dangerous game, daughter of Bralewyn."
 

Maeve had known Siobhan's maker. But how? She'd never even discussed her past with Abyssinian. Was it something Maeve had plucked out of Siobhan's mind? She'd called them sisters.
 

Sisters?
 

Not likely.
 

And she'd insisted several times that Song wouldn't tell her where the winter born were. Winter born. That wasn't even something that remotely sounded familiar. What the hell was that? And what did she mean by—

Footsteps straightened her up from where she'd slouched against the freezer. She stood and slipped behind a wall. To her, the blackness of the basement was darker than a room illuminated by a dim bulb. But to a human—it was ink black.
 

She saw him descend the stairs and pick his way around the debris of over turned desks, laundry baskets and then past the rusting hot water heater. And he moved as if he could see as well as she could, though he held a large silver flashlight in his hand.
 

When he neared—

"Yeah…I figured this is where the pull would lead me."
 

It was Keith Song.
 

He looked perfect in her view. His lips were completely healed as was his body. Dressed in a white sweater, leather jacket, tight jeans and sneakers, he looked…
 

Her stomach growled.
 

Song stood a few feet from her in the darkness and offered her a bag. "I got these from your place. Somehow I knew where everything was. Just like I knew where you were." His mouth pulled to the side in a smirk. "You care to tell me what you did to me?"
 

Uh oh.
 

She'd forgotten she'd given him her blood. And a lot of it. And he'd had a significant blood loss prior. He wasn't a vampire—turning was a whole other complicated process.
 

No… he was a…

"Ghoul," and her voice echoed in the basement.
 

He pursed his lips and nodded. "I was afraid of that. You know…I've read all about it. Even did a few feature articles on the process—the pros and cons of it. I never thought I'd become one."
 

She'd made…a Ghoul. Not intentionally. And without thinking of the consequences.
 

Keith Song—the most annoying, patronizing, and strong willed reporter in the city, in essence now belonged to—

Me
.
 

Abyssinian
hated
Keith Song.
 

"Uh…" she said and took her travel bag from him. It was already pre-packed with her emergency kit, including clothing, brush, makeup, sun block and a vial of Aby's blood. "This is going to be awkward."
 

"Uh…yah think?" He shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I have this overwhelming desire to be near you, to serve you, and to offer myself to you. Are all of those are the symptoms of a ghouling, Siobhan O'Donnell? I don't think you're supposed to make someone a ghoul without their consent—which of course I did not give."
 

She opened her mouth to speak and he held up a finger. "But—I remember every nasty god-damned thing that that bitch did to me. And I remember how frightened you looked when faced with her, which tells me you didn't know what she was either. I remember you cutting me down, and trying to save my life. So…" he turned and lowered his head. "I want to say thank you."
 

"Mr. Song—"
 

"Call me Keith."
 

"Keith—" she licked her lips. The smell of him as he spoke had grown more intoxicating. Ghouling did that to a human being—something in the blood that made them more desirable. And delicious. She'd always sort of seen it as a means of the blood of forging a bond between the two.
 

He held up his hand. "I really don't think you meant to—and I've talked to the police to give an account of what happened. That you'd saved me. What I find even more interesting is that Ghouls don't seem to ping on the blood work dial. So they didn't really understand where the bleeding out point for me was since everything had healed up." He rubbed at his forehead. "Though I'm still at a low blood sugar level. Makes me cranky."
 

"Rest is the only thing that will help you with the blood you lost," she finally squeaked out. "The element that has now halted your aging isn't necessarily in the blood, but a part of what makes me what I am."
 

"So it's true then? The part about ghouls not aging?"

"Afraid it is."

"Sweet. So… as you get dressed and I look the other way, you care to fill me in on what the fuck we do now? Oh, and slip in a bit of Ghoul one oh one too. I'm afraid I'm not sure what to do with the raging reversal of my teen age hormones when I think of you."
 

Siobhan blushed as she ducked behind the remainder of a retainer wall and started to dress.
 

"Well first off—before I go into any lessons, I need you to tell me why that creature—Maeve—came after you?"
 

"Well I thought," came his voice from a good distance away. He really had looked the other way. "That it was because she thought I was hot. And I thought she was. Though trust me—when I met her she did not look like that."
 

"Like what?"
 

"All teeth and…" She stepped out in time to see him shudder from the back. He was facing away. "Inky eyes. That happened after we got back to my place."
 

"Glamour…" Siobhan said as she dug her shoes out of the bag and Song turned around. "That's an eleven power."
 

"I would say that bitch
wasn't
an elf," he said and took a few hesitant steps forward. "Not with teeth like that. And the whole drinking blood thing."

"She wasn't a vampire either," Siobhan pulled her sneakers on. The spare clothes weren't really much more than jeans, a white shirt, socks and sneakers. But there was a plastic bag of cash, cards, and a driver's license. She started putting things in all the pockets and grabbed up the vial of Aby's blood Keith had packed in the bag—though Keith wouldn't know it was Aby's. "And it wasn't an elf. I really don't know what the fuck it was. But it creeped me out." She looked at him. "What made her turn on you? Why did she un-glamour herself?"