Blood Sacrifice

by Maria Lima

  “The ‘new world’ isn’t all that new anymore, Branwen,” I said. “Modern humans populated this land centuries ago.”

  “A held breath and time for a few thoughts. Nothing more.” My mother eyed me up and down. “You are still young, Keira, and despite your ties to the Kelly clan, you are still half Sidhe. Half Seelie. You belong with us as much as you belong with them.”

  “I belong wherever the bloody hell I wish to belong,” I spat, trembling in my anger. “And that is as far from you and yours as I can physically go. You want this? Well, then—” I swallowed a yelp as Adam’s grip tightened.

  “We shall review your terms of Challenge and respond as per protocol,” he said. “In the meantime, we declare Truce.” He nodded and Niko stepped forward to take the parchment from my mother’s hand.

  Terms of Challenge? Shit. I had no idea what Adam meant. Frankly, I was totally bluffing all of this. I’d heard of Challenge, but only in a learning-about-history way, something vague and well in the past. Sidhe traditions weren’t taught in much detail in Kelly-land, other than in passing and as something that happened to other people. Adam should know, though. He had to. After all, he was the firstborn son and heir of the king of the Unseelie Court. Despite Gideon’s Change and the revelation that he was Drystan’s son by a Kelly woman, just as I was Branwen’s daughter sired by Huw Kelly, Adam remained his father’s heir, though a Sidheturned-vampire prince was far beyond tradition.

  Adam bowed to Gideon, a short obeisance, courtesy only. “Truce, my brother?”

  Gideon remained still, gaze fixed on us both, face tight with some emotion or another. I used to could to read him, but no longer. As I waited for his answer, I suddenly remembered we had a room full of guests. Guests that seemed weirdly silent. I glanced to my right. Couples danced to music I couldn’t hear, small groups mingled, exchanging silent conversation. It was if I’d pushed the mute button on a TV remote. Why weren’t we still surrounded by avid eavesdroppers anxious for a breath of scandal that they’d then take back to their own people? Rumor and gossip were like pure cold water in a Texas drought to most supernatural clans. We all tended to live longer than most humans, leading to ennui and the need for fresh information, new data. But not a one of them appeared to even notice us. Even the group that had been standing near us watching had dispersed.

  “We accept Truce,” Gideon finally said, returning Adam’s bow. Gideon’s gesture was just short of rude, if you cared about picking nits. I’d drilled for ages on the variations on a Courtly bow—how to do it, how long, and how deep were skills taught to every Kelly child, practiced until we knew every iota of this unspoken visual language, every subtle cue. I’d never cared about it, but I knew how to read bows. Gideon had stopped short of a “fuck you.” I bristled, about to respond, my surroundings once again forgotten.

  “Until we meet again, brother.” Gideon stepped back and took his bride’s arm.

  “Until Lughnasa,” Adam countered with a nod of acknowledgment. Five weeks from now. The next holiday and, perhaps not coincidentally, my birthday. I’d turn thirty-eight that day, after one hell of a year. Guess after what we’d all been through the past eight or nine months, I should’ve expected that I couldn’t start my rule peacefully.

  If I had to guess from his smug expression, Gideon had expected Adam to ask for Truce—which I knew was a formal declaration that a Challenge get tabled until the next high holiday. Why? Was he not ready for this Challenge, either? Of course the answer to that depended on the actual words and rules set forth. Everything I knew about Sidhe formal Challenges could fit into less than half a thimble—confused tales mixed up with Disney and the Little Golden Books of my childhood.

  Adam gestured outward. “Now that we’ve settled, please go eat, drink, be merry.”

  “For tomorrow, we fight,” I muttered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Life’s challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they’re supposed to help you discover who you are.”

  —Bernice Johnson Reagon

  With an audible pop, the noise and chatter of the crowd intruded on our little bubble. I belatedly realized that we’d been inside some sort of privacy pocket. Had I unconsciously isolated us? Or was it someone else’s doing?

  Just before turning away to accompany Aoife, my mother nodded to me, a weird roll of her head seeming to indicate that she’d been the one to produce the silence bubble. I returned her nod with one of my own. A silent acknowledgment tinged with grudging thanks. I should’ve realized it myself. I was glad, though, that we hadn’t aired our dirty political linen to those who’d sworn fealty to us. No need to undermine our position. Not that we had any intent to play rulers in the traditional sense. Neither Adam nor I had any taste whatsoever for that kind of life. We’d be there for them. We’d help when necessary, but for all intents and purposes, each clan could do its own thing. Only if they intruded on us would we intervene.

  Adam squeezed my hand and led me away, motioning to Tucker and Niko to follow. Gideon and his cronies had melted into the crowd. I caught a glimpse of Old Joe, former trash man, who’d recently discovered his true heritage as a Changeling fey child thanks to me. Joe nodded and smiled at me, then turned back to his conversation with a cute dark-skinned woman dressed in moss greens and browns. A hamadryad, I thought. One of many representatives we’d met tonight. All of them ours, oathsworn and bonded. Our people. Sobering thought, that.

  “So what are these Challenge rules?” Tucker piped up as soon as we’d maneuvered our way past the majority of the crowd and to the back of the room.

  Niko handed the rolled parchment to him. “Would you care to do the honors, love?”

  “Wait.” The voice came from behind me.

  I turned to see my mother approaching us. I gritted my teeth. Really? Did she have no couth at all? I hadn’t exactly hidden my antagonism toward her. Surely she’d not forgotten that in the past five minutes—or thirty years.

  “I just wished to…” She stopped at a safe distance—safe being well outside my physical reach. “Keira, you are my daughter. I never meant…”

  “What? You never meant to ignore me? Toss me away like last week’s inane diversion?” I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to rein in my temper. Count to ten, Keira, I reminded myself. No, count to a thousand and ten.

  “Branwen.” Adam gave her a short nod, ruler to lesser queen. “Was there something you needed?”

  “No, Adam, wait.” I placed my hand on his arm. “I want to speak with her.”

  “As you wish.” He began to retreat, but I tightened my grip. “No. Stay.” I took a deep breath. “Branwen, some months ago, before I Changed, I had a vision of a time when I was still Below, still with you. I was maybe just turned seven. You were arguing with Daffyd’s father Geraint about letting me stay with you. You said I was worth something, to give me a chance. You fought for me then. Why this now?”

  A slight start, then my mother’s expression returned to stoic. “You know Daffyd?”

  Did I know my Sidhe cousin? The cousin who’d been holed up in a pocket of Faery located on Wild Moon property for decades, watching me? Did she not know we’d not only met but traveled together? He’d accompanied us to Vancouver, where I’d flown in great haste after hearing that Gideon was dying. Part of me wished he’d done so. Instead, we’d learned that Gideon had also Changed and that he was Adam’s half-brother. Afterward, Daffyd had returned to Faery using the faery door at Victory Square. Or so he’d said he would. He was part of my mother’s Court, supposedly. His father definitely kowtowed to Branwen. Had Daffyd not returned to the Sidhe?

  “You could say that,” I answered my mother’s surprised question, trying to be cautious. Did she not know anything that had transpired? What had Gideon told her—or conned her into most likely?

  “Very well. I would speak privately.” My mother motioned to a corridor that led back from the main reception hall. “Is there a room there we could use?”

  “No. Speak here
and now. This is my family, my blood. We have no secrets.” I crossed my arms over my chest. The formal reception hall had once been a house, renovated inside and out, and decorated by my great-great-granny as part of her contribution to my new status. Most of the inside walls of the one-storied building had been removed to create one large room, but there were still a couple of small rooms in the back that had been set up as private parlors. The entire basement of the house was my very well-appointed physical and magickal training facility. There was no way I wanted Branwen in anything resembling family areas.

  “None?” She looked me over with cool appraisal, then did the same to Adam, to Tucker, to Niko. A faint sneer appeared and swiftly vanished as she regained control. “I say there are many secrets within this family of yours. Secrets about your heritage—”

  “About Gi—Minerva’s genetics experiments? None of that’s a secret. We know.”

  “You know that your leader’s motive was to bring all the clans, tribes, fair folk under Kelly rule?”

  I considered Gigi’s past actions. Manipulating genetics by “encouraging” pairings to try for multiple Kelly heirs? Summit type meetings with leaders of the supernatural world? Well, yes, of course she was trying to unite the tribes. Frankly, we had to unite, to work together. I had no doubt that Gigi saw herself as a sort of committee chair or council leader, but planning to take over the world herself? What purpose would that serve? She was always ruthless and ambitious, but why the hell would she want to be the one queen of the known universe? Then again, why in all the hells would Gigi plan or do anything? I’d never expected her to have played god—effectively creating me, Gideon, my late cousin Marty, in some sort of twisted cross-breeding experiment, trying to force more than the usual single heir. Heirs were special to our clan: instead of having one primary Talent at adulthood, we could use all the Kelly powers. As far as I knew, this was the first time in all known history that there were two of us.

  “Maybe she is. Maybe she isn’t,” I said. “Regardless of Gigi’s ambitions, this Challenge is still ridiculous.”

  A tinkle of a laugh. “How very charming that you still use a childhood name for your clan chieftain.”

  “Your point being?” I suppressed my instinctive eye roll. Childish, whatever. I hadn’t been able to say “Minerva” when I was brought to her as a child, speaking only Welsh and scared out of my skinny self’s wits. Rescued from Below, from the Welsh seat of Sidhe power and brought to my father’s people, I’d glomped onto my brother Tucker and learned to call my great-great-grandmother “Gigi,” for the two “greats.” I’d only begun to refer to her by her official first name after my Change earlier this year.

  “No point.” My mother just smiled her enigmatic smile. Typical of the Seelie Sidhe, I thought. Say something to just say it, to perhaps dig to see if they were pushing a button or ten.

  “Then answer my question. Why did you seem to want me, but then let me go?”

  “I knew you had the potential for magicks, as do all of Kelly blood. When you did not demonstrate our own people’s magick, then I knew there was only one solution.”

  “To treat me—”

  “Do not impugn that which you know nothing of.”

  “Then enlighten us.” Adam took my hand. “Enlighten us all. If you knew Keira was more Kelly than Sidhe, why did you not simply arrange for her to be raised with her father sooner?”

  “It was not that simple.” She sighed and brushed a hand over her face. An affectation? Perhaps. I’d not known Sidhe to allow themselves to seem tired or less than perfect, especially those of Seelie origin. “I waited until I knew that her Kelly strain was stronger than the Sidhe strain. I knew there was another, being raised Above, by his mother. Son of the Unseelie King. Geraint wanted to bring the boy to us, and I argued against it. If we brought the boy to us, we tempted the wrath of his father. Instead, we chose to have your father raise you. You, we could monitor Above. Geraint’s son, Daffyd, volunteered to be your guardian. We’d hoped to pair you with your counterpart—”

  “Gideon? You knew about him and were matchmaking?” I’d expected some sort of lame explanation but this took the cake. “You were the ones who set Daffyd on me? Did you close the door to Faery, too? Lock him in there?”

  “A miscalculation.”

  “Some miscalculation,” I growled. “This entire thing is ridiculous. All of you people plotting to match me up with Gideon for what? To control the supernatural world through us?” I threw up my hands, every muscle wanting to incant spells, to cause bodily harm. “Did you ever consider that I would not be your puppet to control?”

  Branwen seemed to dismiss my comment. “Ridiculous or not, we are here and a legitimate Challenge has been issued within the strictures of our kind.”

  “So instead of marrying us off, you marry Gideon to Aoife, instead. What do you think that will get you? Closer to your sister’s throne?” She said nothing for a moment, as if choosing her words. Had I struck a chord? My mother was queen in her own right, but a lesser one. She was not in line to rule the Seelie Court.

  “If you accept it, then we continue and the magicks will decide.” Branwen’s voice remained chill.

  “If we don’t?” Adam asked, his voice calm, but I could feel his fury beneath, barely contained. I knew he was as angry as I was, though he was better at hiding it.

  “Then it’s war,” Gideon interrupted, appearing from my left. He smirked as the words left his mouth, as if he were anticipating just that. A war. A bloody battle.

  “War? So that’s what you want? I’m game if you are.” I clenched my hands back into the fists that had become second nature over the past half hour or so. “No need to issue Challenge, Cousin. I’m here right now and willing.”

  Another smirk slid into a smug grin. “You will fight me?”

  “Anytime.”

  “Keira.” Adam took my hand again. “No fight until we understand the Challenge. If you will excuse us.”

  I swallowed my anger and let Adam lead me away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Accept the challenges so that you may feel the exhilaration of victory.”

  —George S. Patton

  “Technically, we’re not required to actually battle,” Tucker said, his eyes scanning the parchment, which he’d unrolled across the top of Adam’s desk. It wasn’t overlarge, but it seemed to take up the entire desktop.

  After Gideon’s snarky comments, Adam had forced us to do some official mingling with the rest of our guests long enough for propriety’s sake. We’d then left the Hall to seclude ourselves in Adam’s office over at the main inn. No one was there, thanks to the Reception. Most nights, the entire Wild Moon bustled, coming alive from dusk until dawn, sanctuary for vampires and Kelly alike. Tonight, nearly everyone was still at the party. Our day manager, John, and his family were, no doubt, cozy and snug in their own small home for the night. He’d be up at daybreak, tending to the property while we all slept. Adam had built this resort as a hangout for his small tribe of bloodsuckers, most of whom disliked preying on humans and wanted to explore alternative sources of nutrition. He’d bought this particular property in the Texas Hill Country to be near me.

  I sat in one of the side chairs across from Adam’s desk, attempting to remove the fripperies from my hair with Adam’s help, as Tucker studied the document my mother had handed over. “What is it then if not a fight to the finish? Don’t most of these things mean a real fight—like spells, weapons, and so on?” I tugged at something tangled in my hair. Adam pushed my hand aside.

  “Let me,” he said. “I have a better angle.”

  I dropped my hands and pushed the long flowing sleeves from my dress to my elbows. What I wouldn’t give to be dressed in my usual jeans and tank top.

  Tucker tapped with his index finger. “In legend, yes. But, this doesn’t seem to say anything about war or a battle specifically. I’m not a hundred percent sure, but… Adam, would you mind taking a look at this phrase?”

 
“Ouch!” I yelped. “Watch the hair, please.” A piece of my hair had re-tangled in one of the beads that dangled from the intricate headpiece I’d worn for the Reception. A pretty thing, but really a pain to remove.

  “Apologies, love,” Adam said and quickly freed me. “Niko, could you take over here whilst I read with Tucker?”

  “Certainly.” Niko left his post at the door where he’d been standing guard. “Adam, if you don’t mind?” Niko motioned to the now empty doorway.

  I closed my eyes. Men. No matter what bloody species. With a quick mutter and hand wave, I cast a do-not-disturb ward. Nothing complicated, but just enough to give us fair warning if anyone approached. “There. It’s not as if you need to physically guard the door, guys,” I said. “I trust that all of us can move fast enough in case of an attack. Besides, he gave us Truce. Unless he’s got something else up his evil sleeve, he’s not breaking that. There are consequences, right?”

  “There are.” Adam crossed the room to join Tucker at the desk. They bent over the elaborately illuminated scroll, muttering to themselves as they studied the calligraphy.

  Niko took up where Adam left off, his hands gentle and fingers nimble in my hair.

  “You’re good at this,” I said in a quiet voice.

  Niko gave a grunt of assent and kept unweaving my hair from the ornate decoration, placing all the bits and bobs of jewelry onto the table next to me. “I’ve done it before,” he said. “Back when…”

  “Yes, back when.” I closed my eyes and let him work his magic. His hands soothed the tightness out of my scalp. I was so unused to hairstyles fancier than a braid but had succumbed to dressing up to suit the occasion. As he worked, I wondered about the details of his “back when,” as a lonely child born in the first Elizabeth’s era, purchased by some court noble as a plaything. Niko never spoke much about this part of his background. I could empathize with the loneliness, but couldn’t even imagine being someone’s toy, someone’s property.