Blood King (Spirit Seeker Book 1)
Page 24
“That’s it, Charlie,” Elis’ deep, centuries-old thirster voice continued to croon. “You’re good at this. Fighting monsters is what you’ve always done. You can always defeat them.”
Charlie yelped, a sharp, high-pitched cry that sounded more childlike than anything they’d heard from her in the last hour. As if exhausted by the effort it took to scream so loud, she teetered like a bowling pin after being struck.
Catching her in his arms, Elis eased her down onto her mattress, allowing Margot to scoot him aside. She checked Charlie’s pulse, felt her forehead, and with gentle fingertips traced a vein, nearly invisible again, over the outline of her jaw.
Margot’s face brightened. “Her temperature is down. Pulse is a bit elevated but that’s to be expected. I’d still like her to drink my tea when she wakes up.”
Peter clutched his book to his chest. “That may be a while. She’s quite spent, I’m afraid.”
Pressure built behind Sybille’s eyes. This was so unfair. “It’s getting worse. The episodes are becoming more frequent and more severe.”
No one argued with her. Even had they not been experienced in supernatural events, it would have been obvious to them that she was right.
“Sybille.” Elis made his way to her side of the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Charlie only partly responded to my mesmerizing her, and even that took time. It worries me. There will come a point when my skills fail her altogether.”
Sybille shook him off. “Don’t talk like that, not in front of her at least.”
“She can’t hear me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Margot sighed. “Whether she can hear you or not, you two squabbling cannot be good for her. Why don’t you take it downstairs? Peter and I will stay with her.”
Sybille hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Let’s go, thirster.”
“Must you keep calling me that?”
“Today I must.”
They made their way down the stairs and into the living room, where Sybille folded herself into her favorite corner of the couch. As soon as Elis joined her, he picked up where he’d left off.
“I don’t want to think about it anymore than you do, but facts are facts. Charlie is a child of the Low. She was born there, lived there her whole life. That place bears a curse we’re only beginning to understand, but we do know how unearthly powerful it is and that the more time you spend there, the more the Low becomes a part of you. Bringing her here, smudging her with sage and juniper, hypnotizing the shit out of her every time it tries to take over—none of that changes the facts. The Low is stronger than her, stronger than all of us. Charlie can’t win.”
“Which means we’re all going to lose.” Sybille pressed her head into the sofa, wishing she could fold herself all the way inside of it and disappear. “I wish Devin was here to help.”
Elis tensed beside her. “Well he’s not.”
“He could be. We just have to find him.”
“He was stolen by a fae who blinked him out of our universe and brought him to…who knows where. There’s been no progress in locating him, even though we’ve been searching for two months.”
“So? I’ll search for twenty years if I have to.” She turned towards him. “We need to get him back.”
“You need to.”
“We. Me. Charlie. All of us.”
He fingered the obsidian pendant dangling from a silver chain around her neck. “I don’t want to start this argument again.”
“Then don’t. Agree with everything I say and be done with it.”
Elis opened his mouth, but before he could argue further, the doorbell rang.
Sybille groaned. “Can you get that? If it’s Jehovah’s Witnesses, tell them we’ve already found Satan. She’s upstairs sleeping off a bender. Then tell them to go away before she eats them.”
Elis walked towards the alcove, and Sybille was left speculating how they would have gotten Charlie under control had Elis not shown up. They’d found nothing that would work, save for Elis’ mesmerizing skills. If those skills failed to work, they were well and truly screwed.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Sybille bolted upright. Not missionaries or salesman or someone delivering a package then. Someone Elis knew. And from the tone of his voice, someone he didn’t care for.
Sprinting towards the front door, she had only a few seconds to wonder who it could be and what danger they might present. Raelyn, maybe, but she was busy running the Low now that they’d removed the Blood King from power. The lavender fae woman? But she’d already gotten what she wanted.
It was too much to hope that it might be Devin.
Coming to a stop next to Elis, she stared at their visitor in surprise. A man in his sixties with deep-set eyes and a frown that looked permanently tattooed onto his face stood holding a brimmed hat.
“Can I help you?”
The man’s lips quivered as he attempted to force them into a smile. “If you’re Margot’s daughter, then yes you can.”
Elis postured, fangs out. “I’ll ask you again, what are you doing here, Laurence?”
Sybille blinked. “Laurence?”
“He’s the man who returned my spirit.”
“No kidding? You’re not here to take it back, are you?” Sybille had been curious about the man capable of plunking a bloodthirster’s disembodied spirit back inside its monstrous body ever since Elis told her about the experience.
The man shook his head. “No, no. What’s done is done, in that regard.”
“Well, then, what?”
He looked past them, straining to see into the house. Sybille crossed her arms.
“Listen, Laurence, if you’re responsible for making Elis a reformed thirster, then I owe you one. But you also teamed with his evil ex in an attempt to murder him, so that’s a big strike against you. I’m not sure where I stand, but I know I don’t trust you. So if you have some purpose here, make it known or leave.”
Laurence scrunched his hat between his hands. He kept his shoulders curved forward and seemed to be having difficulty maintaining eye contact. Either their presence made him nervous or whatever situation he’d found himself in did. “I’m here about my granddaughter. If you help me save her, I’ll tell you where Devin Vargas is.”
The hour struck and the grandfather clock chimed. One… Sybille breathed. Two… She composed her thoughts. Three… She resisted the urge to sic Elis so they could torture out of him whatever information he supposedly had on Devin. Four…
“Who’s your granddaughter? Is she a bloodthirster you need us to kill? Because we’re sort of busy with another job right now.”
Five.
The man stood a little taller, shoulders back. “Oh no, no. She’s not one of them.” He scowled at Elis, then attempted a neutral expression with Sybille. She didn’t blink and neither did he.
“Well, who is she then?”
Six.
The last chime resonated through the alcove as Laurence spoke. “Her name is Charlotte. But everyone calls her Charlie.”
Don’t stop now. Keep reading with your copy of BLOOD FAE available now. And sign up for the City Owl Press newsletter to receive notice of all book releases!
Don’t miss more of the Spirit Seeker series
with book two, BLOOD FAE, available now.
Sybille Esmond discovers a deep aversion for fae. One kidnapped her friend. Another is threatening her niece. All of them are pissing her off.
But Sybille is a psychic, not a soldier, and when her best friend Devin is taken by a strange fae woman, she’ll have to fight like hell to get him back.
All while keeping his niece safe, and her blood-thirster boyfriend, Elis, at bay. He keeps openly wishing she’d join him in the undead life. Sybille won’t let Elis’ unsavory desires, evil spirits, or the barriers between worlds keep her from rescuing Devin.
She’ll travel between realms and risk war. The fae want control over those Sybille holds mos
t dear: Devin, his possessed niece, and even Earth itself.
If she can’t stop the fae war, everyone she loves will either become a war prize, or wind up as collateral damage.
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Acknowledgments
Tales of vampiresque beasts have been woven into our lives for thousands of years. Our fascination with these dark beings—who pay for immortality with their own humanity—has failed to fade. Urban fantasy is folklore reimagined; as someone who writes/reads this genre, I owe a great debt to several millennia of storytellers, most with names lost to time, for developing the rich context I drew upon for this book.
Thank you to my brilliant editor, Tee Tate, for seeing this story for what it could be. Your encouragement came at all the right moments! To the entire City Owl Press team, this story could not have been in better hands. A special thanks to Tina Moss for managing the project with such professionalism, and for holding my hand whenever I needed it. Thank you to my fellow City Owl authors—I am honored to be included in your ranks.
To my writing friends: I would have called it a day long ago if it wasn’t for the sense of community you gave to me. To Debra Goelz and Darly Jameson, I’m not sure thanks will ever be enough. I owe you both puppies and mermaid sparkles and all the good things in the world. To Jessica B. Fry, Sarah Benson, Vic James, Lindsey Lippencott and the rest of the Wattpadres, thank you for bringing me into your fold and making me feel like I belong. To Kristine Inchausti, you are the greatest writing bestie and contest buddy a woman could ever hope for. Thank you to all my Wattpad writing friends—Rita Kovach, Leigh W. Stuart, Tamoja Oja, Kristin Jacques, Gaby Cabezut, Keri-Lee Kroeger, Calla Roark, Jolene Straus, Red Harvey, Rebecca Sky and everyone else who I’ve connected with through that platform. A special shout out to Lynn Santiago for hosting the contest that sparked the genesis for Blood King.
To my friends and co-workers, old and new, thank you for the companionship, advice, and laughs at different stages of my life: Patrick Gulke, Kim Auterio, Lisa Taglialavore, Sue Elsey, Jill Nealey-Moore, Tina Piper, Heather Purcell, Paula Smith, Barb McClard, Beth Carroll, Jessica LeClair, and Amie Abendroth. To my parents, Randy and Nickie Bryant, thank you for showing up to each activity I took part in, and for reading everything I write—except when I tell you not too! Thank you to my sister Jennie McCann and her kids Adam, Anna, and Austin for being the creative and awesome people you are. Thank you to the Gammon-Kunz side of the family for always making me feel like one of you.
Most importantly, thank you to my husband, Drew Kunz, and son, Silas. Life is a lonely path unless you make a concerted effort to walk it with others. Get your stakes and magic crystals ready: we still have a long journey ahead!
About the Author
Photography by Drew Kunz
Amber K. Bryant is an award-winning speculative fiction and romance writer living deep within Sasquatch territory in Washington State. Her stories have gained over ten million reads on Wattpad, where she has built a world-wide fanbase. She collaborated on a short story with R. L. Stine and won several contests judged by Margaret Atwood. When she isn’t writing, she works as a librarian and spends time with her husband and son enjoying the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. She has yet to spot Bigfoot but has faith it will happen one day. Blood King is her debut novel.
www.amberkbryant.com
About the Publisher
City Owl Press is a cutting edge indie publishing company, bringing the world of romance and speculative fiction to discerning readers.
www.cityowlpress.com
Additional Titles
BLOOD FAE
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