Blood of Time: Book 18 of the Witch Fairy Series

by Bonnie Lamer

  “What the hell just happened?” The King of the Fae demands in his most regal voice. Getting his first good look at us up close, he adds, “And why are you covered in dirt?”

  I glance down at myself. My legs and feet are covered in a thick layer of dust from the cavern floor. I imagine my back is too since we were flung to our backs when the creatures first came at us. I don’t bother touching my hair. I can already feel how filthy it got when I was lying there. I could really use a shower. Glancing back up at my father, I sigh. There’s no way I can sneak in a shower while his temper level is set to ‘One Step Away from World Destruction.’ I settle for trying to brush some of the dirt away with my hands with limited success.

  “Well?” Dagda demands when no one responds.

  Turning toward the others, I see they are all patiently waiting for me to explain. I narrow my eyes in my husband’s direction, but he pretends not to notice as he continues to stare blankly at his uncle. Fine. I guess I’ll be the one to explain. Like usual. I should get business cards made up. Xandra, The Great Explainer.

  Turning back to my father, I sigh again. “There was a little snafu with their magical demonstration,” I begin, waving my hand in the general direction of the three kids.

  “I believe ‘snafu’ is too mild a term for what just happened,” Isla drawls, taking up a position next to Dagda. The two have not let their guards down at all. They’re still radiating magic.

  I’m impressed that the kids haven’t drawn magic in response. That can be difficult to control if one feels threatened. Then again, just because they’re strangers to the two Fairies standing before me doesn’t mean the Fairies are strangers to them. They’ve had their whole lives to get to know their grandfather and great grandmother. I doubt the kids feel threatened right now. A quick glance over my shoulder at their relaxed stances confirms this.

  Turning back to Dagda and Isla, I shrug. “Well, they are my kids. What do you expect?” This garners a snicker from Garren’s general direction. His face is the picture of placid innocence by the time Isla turns and glowers in his direction.

  “That is not a given from where I stand,” Dagda growls. He does this between teeth clenched together so tightly, I’m already running through rescue scenarios for his trapped tongue in my mind. He’s probably going to lose a bicuspid somewhere in the process.

  My own temper rises to meet my biological father’s. I’ve had it with his anger and doubts. We don’t have time for them. Planting my hands on my hips, I growl right back at him. “Look, you can either get on board with this or not. But we have a war coming our way with the Council. Yes, THE council. So, we,” I twirl my hand in the air in the general direction of those behind me, “are going to go inside and start planning our defense. You can head back to your palace and pray to whatever gods and demi-gods who aren’t plotting to kill us at the moment that the palace walls don’t crumble around you while you sit there on your ignorant, stubborn, disbelieving butt doing nothing!” I didn’t realize how much my voice had risen until Dagda winces slightly at my last shouted words.

  Beside him, Isla’s steely expression is showing cracks around the edges. “The Council?” she repeats. Is she blanching a little bit under her composed façade? That’s new and unexpected. And unwelcome. The last thing we need is for Isla to be scared. That does nothing to boost the rest of our confidence.

  My anger still has control of my tongue as I respond to her. I round on Isla, my hackles not only up now but marching around in a foul mood wondering why no one has fed them raw meat yet. “Yes, the Council. They want to kill our children. Wait, not just kill them. Wipe them from existence so that no one even knows they were ever born. Which could explain why you can’t see them with your sight! So, like I said, we’re going to go plan our defense with or without those of you who don’t want to stand with us.” I’m about to tell her that she can follow my biological father to the palace, or to hell, when a hand on my shoulder encourages me to end my tirade before I say something I can’t take back. I clamp my lips together and force the words back down my throat. I’m surprised I don’t choke on them.

  “Grandmother,” Kallen begins in a much calmer voice than mine. “At this point, it is vital that we stop arguing about what the four of us,” he points at me, Kegan and Alita, “are quite certain about. You will not sway us from our beliefs, and we have more critical issues to deal with right now. Once the Council has been dealt with, we can come back to this conversation if you would like.” It’s obvious from his tone that it won’t change anything, but sure, we’ll talk about it.

  Isla takes a moment to consider her words. Her eyes study the kids, searching their faces for lies and their bodies for signs of magic. Finally, with an agitated sigh, she says, “Then let us return to the house and figure this mess out.” She turns on her heels in the sand and begins a much more graceful march back to the house than I could have pulled off.

  Despite my words from a moment ago, I’m not quite ready to follow her yet. The other obstacle needs to be dealt with first. While Isla may be willing to put the conversation on hold, I know Dagda. He will fight us every step of the way if we don’t settle this. My biological father is still trying to drill holes into my brain with his probing eyes. I assume he wants insight into what I’m thinking. Or he’s looking for the spot to drill that will give him control over my thoughts and actions. Probably that.

  “Did you forget that I can sense when people are lying?” I remind him.

  “Magic and spells could affect that,” he counters.

  I throw my hands up in the air. “What do you want, a DNA test?”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know I’ve made a mistake. My father’s lips curl up at the edges. He says with almost maniacal glee, “Yes, I believe I would.”

  Great. Where the hell am I going to get a DNA test? It’s not like they have them here in the Fae realm. I’m sure there are spells that could be used, but anything that deals with magic he’ll just argue that some other spell is interfering with the results.

  Outraged now, the normally calm and collected Kallen steps forward. “Uncle,” he growls, ready to rip into the King.

  I got it! I hold a hand up to stop my enraged husband before he rips the King’s head right off his body. “Okay. We’ll do a DNA test.”

  Kallen’s shocked eyes swing to me. “You know he will argue against the magic.”

  I guess great minds do think alike. Or married couples anyway. I nod in agreement about the magic. “Yes, I do know that. So, we’ll do a purely biological one in the Cowan realm.”

  Kallen is trying so hard to be patient and show a united front, but like his grandmother’s calm façade earlier, his is also showing some cracks. Where is the trust, I ask? “We do not really have time for all of this,” he insists. “My understanding is that these things can take considerable time in the Cowan realm.”

  “I know, but I think I can get the results expedited.” When he continues to stare at me in confusion, I explain, “I have an aunt who’s a scientist. She probably knows people who could help.”

  Understanding finally clicks in Kallen’s eyes, and he visibly relaxes. “Right,” he nods. Turning back to Dagda, he asks, “If we do this, will you be willing to accept the results without question and help us?”

  The ‘I got you now’ confidence that was filling his sails of bluster a minute ago falls away. Dagda clears his throat in an obvious stall for time as his brain scrambles to find a way out of this trap of his own making. His mouth opens and closes several times with no words coming out. His vocal cords don’t like to cooperate when they must admit defeat.

  Laying a hand on her husband’s forearm, Tana says with the tiniest of smiles touching her lips, “I believe the answer you are looking for, Dear, is yes.”

  Dagda’s eyes narrow in her direction, but his one stilted word is directed at me. “Yes.”

  With a wide grin, I turn to the kids. “Who’s up for a quick field trip?”
/>   Chapter 9

  Leaving the others to explain to Isla what is going on, Kallen, Kegan, Alita, Dagda, and I remain on the beach with the kids. Mom and Dad wanted to join us, but I politely said no. Okay, more bluntly and firmly than politely. I explained that they would be a distraction and slow us down. Not my proudest daughter moment, but I don’t really have time to mince words right now. Mom tried to argue. But Dad convinced her that I was right. I gave him a quick, grateful smile as they turned to follow Isla back to the house. Garren, Raziel, Adriel and Tabitha left when Isla did. Except for Tabitha, none of them were any more convinced than Dagda of the truth. But like Isla, they were willing to put aside their doubt and have our backs in the coming war. I am going to put Dagda’s obstinance down to being an overprotective father. Sounds better than any of the other options going through my mind at the moment.

  When they are finally all gone, I take a moment to process my options. Where am I most likely to find my Aunt Barb right now? Will she be at home in the apartment she and Gabriel now share in Denver? Or maybe in her lab? She could be in the mountains checking on our house. Mom and Dad did offer the house to her, but she wouldn’t accept it. She figured Mom and Dad and the rest of us would need a place to escape to every now and then. She was right, of course. It’s nice having it there as a vacation spot away from the craziness that sometimes invades our lives.

  Deciding it’s too risky to open a portal into her lab, I decide her apartment is the best option. I can always teleport to the other places if I need to go looking for her. Closing my eyes, I draw the magic I need from the earth. When I have enough, I reach my hand out and pull apart the fabric of the realms. They separate with ease. And no one is sucked into a chasm. I may or may not hear my daughter mutter ‘show off’ under her breath.

  “What the hell!” a deep voice booms. “Who are you? Get the hell out of my bathroom!”

  My eyes fly open. The sight before me has them slamming closed again. My hand flies in the direction of Zyla’s eyes, eager to shield them, as well. There are now several snickers coming from different mouths behind me. I take note that Kallen’s voice isn’t in the mix. Considering his wife just opened a portal into another man’s bathroom while he’s taking a shower may have something to do with his lack of amusement. Why, oh why, didn’t Aunt Barb pick an apartment with frosted glass set into the shower doors. Forget the doors. A shower curtain would have been even better. A thick, no-way-you-are-getting-a-peek-through-this-thing shower curtain.

  Still, there’s a tiny little voice in the back of my head that’s cheering my aunt on right now. I can understand why she’d want clear shower doors. Gabriel has nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to being naked. And now I’m going to crumble to the sand because my bloodless legs are going to dry up and turn to dust. My blushing cheeks have robbed them of the life and moisture giving fluid.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  After a beat, a confused Gabriel wipes the rest of the shampoo from his eyes and asks, “Xandra, is that you?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I’m not familiar with the new apartment’s layout. I was aiming for the living room.”

  I hear Gabriel open the shower doors. Then the rustling of a towel as he wraps it around himself. My hand remains firmly planted on my daughter’s eyes all the while. The entire process probably only takes about ten seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

  “You can open your eyes now,” Kallen informs me tightly. Nope, not a bit of amusement in his voice. Not a single, tiny iota.

  Cracking an eye open, I see he’s right. All of Gabriel’s important bits are now covered by a layer of terry cloth. I take my hand away from Zyla’s eyes and find my daughter blushing almost as deeply as I am. A glance over my shoulder shows me a pink cheeked Alita peeling her fingers away from her own eyes. Kegan is wearing a scowl almost as deep as my husband’s. I guess the only ones snickering were the teenage boys.

  “What are you doing here?” Gabriel asks. I have to give him credit. He’s freaking out a lot less than most people would be right now.

  Clearing my throat and keeping my eyes above his jawline, I ask, “Is Aunt Barb home?”

  As if on cue, a soft, feminine voice calls through the bathroom door, “Gabriel, are you okay? I thought I heard you shouting.”

  Gabriel reaches a thick hand out to the doorknob and turns it. The door opening surprises Aunt Barb, who was just about to knock on it. She stumbles forward a little and Gabriel reaches a strong arm out to catch her. It’s only then that she notices the huge portal in her bathroom and lets out a startled yelp.

  Placing a hand on her chest, she complains, “Xandra, you are going to be the death of me.”

  Stepping through the portal, I give her a rueful smile. “Sorry, Aunt Barb.”

  Reality sinks in, and my aunt remembers where we are. Her eyes fly to her fiancé and take in his mostly naked form. “Oh,” she gasps.

  “Yeah, sorry for that, too,” I mumble. “Forgot the new apartment has a different layout. I was aiming for the living room.”

  Gabriel’s chest rumbles out a chuckle. “I think I scared her as much as she scared me.”

  Deciding we’ve all had enough of a show, Aunt Barb says to him, “Why don’t you go get dressed. I’ll put on some coffee.” Staring through the portal, she sees the crowd behind me. “How many cups will I need?” she asks.

  “Five,” I tell her. “The other three don’t need the caffeine.”

  “Mom,” Zyla whines. “We drink coffee.”

  I give her a doubtful look and turn back to my aunt. “Five cups of coffee and three glasses of whatever you have that they can drink would be great.”

  My aunt is staring at me dumbstruck. She’s not even blinking. I’m about to poke her to see if she has gone into some catatonic state when she finally blurts out, “Did she just call you Mom?”

  I smile at Zyla and Xavion over my shoulder before turning back to my aunt. “That’s why we’re here. We need you to run DNA tests to prove to my father that these are actually his grandkids.”

  “But, they’re practically as old as you are,” Gabriel points out.

  “Time travel,” Zyla informs him.

  Gabriel shakes his head. “I will never get used to all of this.”

  Aunt Barb pats his dark, bare chest. “Me either, Honey. Me, either.” Gently pushing out of his embrace, she says again, “You go get dressed. I’ll put the coffee on. Or maybe something stronger. I think we may need it.” With that, she turns and strides down the hall. Gabriel follows, still shaking his head.

  I usher everyone through the portal and close it. All the while hoping that I won’t someday need to wipe Aunt Barb’s or Gabriel’s minds of their memories of magic just to preserve their sanity.

  Chapter 10

  The apartment Aunt Barb and Gabriel share is considerably larger than her last one. It has three bedrooms, a living room, a full dining room and two and a half baths. So, it always surprises me that her kitchen is tiny. There’s definitely not room for all of us to crowd in there and sit at the little table built for two in the small alcove. Instead, we congregate around her dining room table.

  Well, not all of us. There are only four chairs, so I direct the kids to park it in the living room for the time being. They’d probably just prove to be a distraction as I explain things anyway. Because I’m certain that I’ll be doing most of the talking, I take a seat at the table. Since he’s King of the Fae, Dagda does too. Kegan urges Alita to sit in one of the others as she’s holding baby Keelan. Good move on his part. I know from experience that no matter how small and light babies seem when you first pick them up, they sure do get heavy after a while. Alita gratefully sits down and snuggles her sleeping son against her shoulder. The last chair is saved for Aunt Barb.

  Gabriel returns first. He’s dressed in jeans and a lilac colored button-down shirt that somehow looks masculine on him. It also compliments his dark complexion. Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he says, “Sorry for the rough look
. You arrived before I had a chance to shave.”

  Color flushes my cheeks again. “Sorry about that,” I mutter. What is the apology protocol for opening a portal into one’s bathroom while he’s showering? Is three or four I’m sorry’s good enough, or should I also send an apology gift later? Maybe something along the lines of nontransparent shower door decals? A lead shower curtain? Isla has a few etiquette books in her library. I’ll have to research it.

  Gabriel waves off my apology. “I assume whatever brings you here is more important than my morning shave.” He gestures with his thumb toward the kitchen door. “I’m going to give Barb a hand. We’ll be just a minute.”

  We can hear them moving around in the kitchen and the clink of dishes as they gather what they need. I’d offer to help as well, but I figure they need a few minutes to collect themselves. I can hear low voices as they work. I strain my ears to try to catch pieces of their conversation, but they’re too quiet. I guess Aunt Barb lived with kids for too many years to make a rookie mistake like not keeping her voice low if she doesn’t want to be overheard. I’m sure whatever they’re saying isn’t bad, I’m just nosy.