Blood Prophecy: Kallen's Tale

by Bonnie Lamer

  What is wrong with her? Have her brain waves become crossed? I feel as if I am speaking to a child, now. “How would a blood oath with me force your Grandmother to protect you? I realize you have not had much magical training, so I will explain. A blood oath is supposed to be between the two people who are directly affected by the oath.” I thought we had covered this.

  Her face has turned even more sour. “I’m not a moron, thanks. I figured that out all by myself as well. But if you are already sworn to protect me as you would your own life, couldn’t the blood oath be worded so that Grandma would agree to help you protect me? Sort of like a backup plan? Protect you as you’re protecting me or something?”

  She has stunned me again. Perhaps she functions best when her brain waves are crossed. “That is a very good idea.”

  “I do have them from time to time,” she says dryly.

  Ignoring her comment, her father asks, “Do you think it would work?”

  I shrug. “If worded correctly, yes, I believe it would.”

  Relief floods his face. I am glad that he is not taking the situation at face value and not letting his emotions sway him into blind faith. “Do you think you could word it in such a way?”

  That is an easy answer. “Yes.”

  “Great, let’s get this going then. The sooner we decide what we’re doing about that woman, the better.” He floats back out the door to break the happy news to the two in the living room.

  I am not quite ready to follow yet. If I want Xandra to be honest with me, then I have to be honest with her, as well. Putting a hand on her arm to stop her from going into the hallway, I lean in as if I am going to kiss her. Instead, I push her hair back and whisper in her ear, “I stayed because I wanted my body to be in the same place as my heart, despite the oath.” Without waiting for a response, I turn and walk out the door. I guess I will find out soon enough if I made the right choice or not.

  A heated discussion has begun in the living room between Xandra’s father and her grandmother. She is not pleased to be taking a blood oath with a Fairy. I did not think that I could like her less. I was wrong. “You expect me to make a blood oath with a Fairy? That’s outrageous! Fairies can’t be trusted. That’s why they were banished from this realm!”

  Xandra comes in on the tail end of her tirade. “I don’t know about all the rest, but Kallen is trustworthy. And I know he wants me to stay alive.” Perhaps I was not wrong in staying. I try to suppress a smile as she slides her hand in mine. I wrap my fingers around hers and give them a gentle squeeze.

  “Xandra, dear, I’m sure you believe that, but isn’t your mother’s experience with Fairies enough to show you their true nature?”

  The woman has just accused me of being no different than a Pooka Fairy. My entire body tenses, and with a clenched jaw, I grind out, “Do not presume to know my nature. I am a Sheehogue Fairy and we have never had a quarrel with Cowans nor Witches. It was my grandmother who worked the magic that closed the realms, protecting Cowans and Witches alike from the Pooka Fae. It was also my grandmother who sent me here to help protect Xandra and keep the realms closed to each other. So you see, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind what my or my grandmother’s intentions are. Xandra is unable to say the same about her grandmother.” Too my great surprise, Xandra’s father laughs at the woman’s taut face as she digests my words. Yes, I may grow to like him very much.

  Through her own clenched jaw, she says, “I apologize if I offended you and your kind. I have been told tales of Sheehogue intervention between the Pooka and the humans, on occasion. But I also understood from these tales that the Sheehogue prefer to remain neutral, and are not prone to intervention unless the situation has become dire. So, you can understand my assumption that you are of the Pooka Fae. I did not realize that the situation had reached the point where the Sheehogue would intervene.”

  I try to loosen my grip on Xandra’s fingers, because if I keep squeezing them like this, I may end up breaking one. Or two. “And as I have heard tales of you and your husband’s treatment of Mrs. Smith. And personally witnessed your husband try to kill Xandra. You can understand my hesitation to believe you to be anything more than a distraction while your husband gathers seven other Witches to take on one Witch Fairy.”

  Her eyes are full of pure, unadulterated hatred, but her words are wheels made for backpedaling. “Yes, I can understand why there is hesitation to trust me. It simply took me by surprise that I would be making a blood oath with a Fa…with you.”

  Xandra tries to wiggle her fingers, letting me know that I am squeezing too hard again. Just as I am ready with my retort, Xandra’s father crosses his ghostly arms and says, “That’s the deal, Athear. Take it or leave it.”

  Correcting her posture so that she is sitting bone straight, the woman says, “I will make a blood oath with whomever you would like. I am here to help.”

  The one that looks the least sure about this is Xandra’s mother. She may desire her mother’s company, but the worry lines on her face go a long way to prove that her doubts are almost as great as the rest of ours. “Are you sure, Mother?”

  Squaring her shoulders again, the woman says. “Yes, Quillian, I am.”

  “Her name is Juilienne,” growls Xandra’s father.

  She inclines her head towards him. “Of course. It will take some getting used to on my part, but I will adjust. Are we ready to begin?”

  That is my cue. To the Witch spirit, I say, “If you do not object, I would like to set the terms of the blood oath.”

  She hesitates a moment, but it does not take her long to relent. Honestly, I cannot believe she hesitated at all. This is Xandra’s safety we are dealing with. Surely, that comes before a mother whose actions have had her on the run for all these years.

  “Okay.” Then she turns towards her mother. “Mother, please take the knife and add your blood to the bowl.”

  The woman is about to grab for the knife when she pulls her hand back and her breath catches. Accusation clear in her voice, she says, “You are using your athame for a blood ritual?”

  “It’s a little late to be concerned about that.” The Witch Fairy says pointedly. Xandra has told me about how her mother had to stab two guards to get away from her parents. “It has already shed blood. A little more will not make a difference.”

  Good lord, is the woman actually going to cry over a knife? There are bigger things for her to be worried about at the moment. After she finally drips several drops of blood into the bowl, she hands me the knife. Athames are a Witch thing. It does not bother me at all to use it. I repeat the process of stabbing my finger and letting the blood drift in the bowl.

  “Speak the words of the oath,” the Witch spirit says.

  Gladly. I am going to make sure that this woman can cause no harm to Xandra or her parents. Trying not to look smug, I begin. “By this blood, let Queen Athear Levex join me in my oath to protect Xandra Illuminata Smith from harm or death, whether by magical, natural, spiritual, Cowan, blood relative or any otherworldly means. This binding will forsake previous loyalties forged by blood, marriage, debt or friendship. If we choose to sacrifice our own lives for our cause, our dying breath will be spent in an effort to fulfill the promises set forth with this binding.” Death can be painful, but death from a broken blood oath? Much more so. It is like burning from the inside out. Slowly. “Let the laws of the Sheehogue take precedence over Witch law in concerns to this binding, and let the Witch and Fairy magic come together as a force to hold this oath true and unable to be unbound by either.” Suddenly, the woman looks smug. I have a very bad feeling about this.

  As Xandra’s mother recites the words for the blood oath binding, I go over the oath in my head, trying to figure out why the woman is smug. “Bound by blood, moon and tide, by this oath you must abide. If by traitorous heart you deceive, or by lack of courage you mislead, count that breath to be your last, as the earth will claim its next repast.”

  Our blood sparks as it comes together and
a billow of smoke rises from the bowl. When it clears, the blood has turned the color of amber. Why? Because I just got my answer as to why the woman is feeling smug. Angel blood reacts differently to blood oaths than any other magical being’s. She is an Angel. And even her daughter does not know this. And now, because I was so meticulous with my oath, I am bound under Sheehogue law to keep her secret according to a treaty created centuries ago. I cannot even imagine how pissed Xandra is going to be about me not explaining what just happened. I lock my eyes with the Angel’s and I know she senses the cold fury rising behind mine. I will find a way to get even with her for this.

  Leaning over the bowl, Xandra asks, “What was that?”

  Xandra’s mother turns to the Angel. “Did you attempt to nullify the oath?”

  The Angel closes her eyes and sighs. “No, I did not." Opening her eyes again, she tells a lie so outrageous, even I am stunned. “That is what happens when a Witch and a Fairy form a blood oath.”

  “Is that true?” Xandra asks.

  Bound by Sheehogue law, I may not willingly identify an Angel to others. So, if I say that she is lying, I will simply have to come up with yet another lie to cover this up. I weigh this in my mind and decide that one lie is better than two. I will most definitely seek revenge for this. Soon. “It can.” I say through tight lips. Then add, “The oath is complete.”

  “Are you sure?” Xandra’s father asks.

  Dragging my eyes from the Angel, I reassure him. “I am positive.” Angel liar or not, she is still as bound to this oath as I am. Xandra is giving me funny looks so I try to avoid moving my eyes in her direction.

  The Cowan spirit’s doubt has not been relieved by my lackluster attempt at reassurance. He turns to his wife. “So, what, now we’re supposed to just welcome her into our home? I don’t like this, Julienne. There is something going on with that woman,” he flings his arm towards the Angel, “that I don’t trust.”

  Xandra is trying hard to get my attention. “What’s going on?” she hisses.

  I know she is not going to believe me, and I know cryptic answers anger her, but I try anyway. “All is well.” Her eyes are practically jumping out at me she is so mad, now.

  Apparently, though, she is going to wait to kill me. She is probably thinking of ways to make it more painful. Turning her attention to her mother, she says, “What now?”

  “I would like you and Kallen to get your Grandmother’s bags from the driveway. Your father and I need to talk to her.”

  A chance to get out of this room. I will carry a thousand bags for the opportunity to walk through that door at this moment. Perhaps being kicked out is not such a bad thing. I could build a little place up the mountain and come back when things have calmed down.

  Xandra stomps ahead of me and throws the door open. She is in all out tantrum mode, I believe. This should be interesting. Taking a deep breath, I follow her outside as I consider the floor plan for my future residence.

  I catch up to her and put my hand on her arm. “She is telling the truth. She is here to help.”

  I’m pretty sure she is going to sprout another head just to have two mouths to rail against me with. I want to step away from her, but I hold my ground. “Really? Just how do you know that? Because some blood smoked and sizzled and you and Grandma made eye contact? Forgive me if that isn’t enough to make me want a group hug with the two of you. I’m a little too selfishly concerned right now with keeping myself alive. I figure one of us should be.”

  That was uncalled for. If she does not believe that I am as concerned about her safety as she is, then she does not know anything about me. Nor does she care to find out. Well, I am done trying to prove my loyalty to her. Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “I thought I heard you say in there that you trusted me. I must have been mistaken.”

  “So, what, I’m supposed to have blind faith in you? Even I’m not that naïve.”

  “Is blind faith such a bad thing when you claim to care about someone?”

  “Are you going to tell me why you suddenly think that Grandma is one of the good guys?”

  Okay, maybe blind trust is asking a bit much this soon in our relationship, but could she not try to have more faith in me than this? I will attempt a different tactic. “There are some things that should be explained by the person who holds all the answers.”

  Did I say two heads? I think she’s about to sprout a third. That was definitely the wrong answer. If I could take it back, I would.

  “Enough of the stupid cryptic speak,” she growls. “Between you and Mom, I’ve had enough of it to last me a lifetime! Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “I can tell you that she took a great risk making that blood oath with me.” That, apparently, was not the right thing to say either. Basically, I think I am screwed no matter what I say.

  “Oh, well, that clears everything up. Thank you.” Yes, I am definitely screwed.

  I am so frustrated; I could pull my hair out. I settle for running my hand through it. “Xandra, I am sorry. I cannot tell you.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  Finally, a question I can answer honestly and not die a tragic death. “Cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  This one is a little trickier. “Because I’m bound by Sheehogue law.”

  “Are you trying to make me hate you? Because you’re on the right path if you are.”

  I can see that. Each word that drops from my mouth is like a wedge, determined to push us farther and farther apart. I have no clue how to make this better. “Xandra, I am not deliberately keeping something from you.”

  She snorts. She is the only Fairy I have ever met who sounds cute when she does that. “Funny, it feels like you are.”

  I look down at the ground as my brain scrambles for something, anything, that I can say to make this right. Okay, I will see how much damage these words do. “I made a mistake when I set the guidelines of the oath.”

  Confusion starts to override the anger on her face. “You made a mistake?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of mistake?” she asks, not satisfied with my monosyllabic answer. I could have guessed that, but I’m going for the safest answers possible. I have no desire to burn from the inside out.

  “I weaved Sheehogue law and magic into the oath because I was sure that your grandmother was not the Witch she says she is, and that would have exposed her lies. But I stumbled into an ancient law by mistake. I am now bound by it.”

  Confusion was winning the battle with anger for space on her face, but the tides have now turned again. “Kallen, that doesn’t make any sense at all. What ancient law?”

  Does she not understand that if I explain to her what ancient law, I will then be telling her what I cannot tell her? When I do not respond right away, she crosses her arms over her chest and begins tapping her foot. If I was not so desperate to fix this situation, I would be annoyed. “Well?” she asks. If patience was measured by the beauty of a painting, hers would strongly resemble a finger painting. Created with mud.

  I close my eyes a moment. There is nothing more for me to say, other than what I have already. “Xandra, I need you to trust me. Please. Your grandmother is not going to hurt you. She cannot.”

  She makes a noise that strongly bears a resemblance to a squeal. “So, now we’re back to the blind faith thing.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest again, I ask, “Have I given you reason not to trust me?” Other than lying to her about why I came. And about the blood oath. And several other things that I have not told her that could be considering lying through omission. Perhaps that was not the wisest question in the world.

  Several long heartbeats pass without a response. I do not like that it is taking her so long to respond to my question. Even if I have misled her once or twice, my own anger is rising again. I came clean on most of that stuff. Finally, she says, “Is she really bound by the blood oath?”

  There are still miracles. “Yes, she is. Her intentio
ns can only be pure. She would suffer greatly if not.”

  With a sour, but not angry, look, she says, “Fine, but you’re carrying her suitcases.”

  I give her my most charming smile. “Of course. I am always a slave to your desires.” I ignore the tiny voice in my head that is saying there is more truth in that statement than I want to acknowledge.

  “You’re absolutely sure that Grandma’s on our side?”

  I nod. “I am.”

  She looks at me long and hard, until I want to start squirming. Whatever she is looking for in my face, she must have found it, because she says, “Then I believe it, too.”

  Music to my ears. Putting my hands on her waist, I pull her closer. “Thank you for trusting me.” She wraps her arms around my neck and our lips meet in a kiss that erases any doubt of how she feels about me. If we were not in her parents’ driveway, I would let my hands rove over her luscious body. Even the thought of it almost pushes me over the edge.

  Good thing I decided against the hand roving thing. “And you wonder why I follow you two around.”

  I step back so quickly, I almost fall over my own feet. These ghosts need to wear bells or something. It’s unnerving how they can creep up on you. The Witch spirit I can sense to some degree, the Cowan spirit not at all.

  Xandra groans as she looks at her father, which I believe is only going to make the situation worse. I prepare myself for a verbal lashing. Instead, I get an amused spirit looking at us as if he is more amused about interrupting us, than being irate that I was once again kissing his daughter. There has to be a catch.

  “We were just coming back in,” Xandra grumbles with more than a little attitude.

  “It might be difficult to carry the bags and walk to the door with your lips locked like that.” There are several large rocks around here. I wonder which would be the easiest to crawl under.

  Color floods into Xandra’s face, which hopefully draws attention away from mine. “Dad, really? Aren’t you supposed to be talking to Mom and Grandma?”