Blood Lines: Kallen's Tale (Witch Fairy #3.5)

by Bonnie Lamer

  Eyes flashing with anger, Xandra is the one to respond. “What would you like me to do to show you how much control I have right this minute? How about this?”

  “Damn it.” I push back my chair and stand up in an effort to avoid the hot tea that Xandra has thrown at me from burning me in uncomfortable places. Which everyone in the room seems to find funny. Well then, they are going to love this. Her hot chocolate should be lukewarm by now which means being doused with it will not hurt her. Though, her hair dripping with the brown fluid is not the best look for her. I feel a hundred percent better now as I grin at her. Still, I am not stupid. I prepare myself for whatever is coming next from her.

  “That’s wicked. Xandra, you have to show me how to do that!” her brother Zac says, running into the room. I believe he may have just saved me from whatever atrocious thing Xandra was thinking about doing.

  Xandra, who seems to be in better humor now, turns to him. “Sorry, buddy, you have to wait until you’re seventeen to have your magic unbound. Then you can have as many food fights as you want.” I can’t help but shake my head at the archaic Witch custom. Children should be taught to control their magic as it grows, not have it shoved upon them when they reach a certain age.

  “That sucks,” the boy pouts. Turning towards his mother, he says, “Can I come out of my room now? There’s nothing to do in there.”

  Xandra interrupts her mother’s answer. “Actually, we were just going to go outside and see whose magic is better, mine or Kallen’s. Why don’t you get your coat and boots on and you can join us.” To me, she says, “Are you ready?”

  I laugh. “You seriously want to do this? I am not going to go easy on you. I will show you how a Pooka warrior will fight.”

  I see doubt pass through her eyes but she nods. “I seriously do.” I certainly love her courage.

  I incline my head and wave my arm towards the door. This should be fun. “Alright, after you.” As I speak, I dry the uncomfortable wet spots on my clothes and attire myself in winter wear. That is one aspect of Grandmother’s plan that I do not find objectionable. A change in climate would be nice.

  Chapter 2

  It takes Xandra longer to get ready. I have been waiting out here for a good ten minutes while she fiddled with her teeth and hair. She may win this competition simply by causing me to get frostbite before she even shows up. After another few minutes, the back door finally opens and she comes out.

  Turning to her, I say, “How do we do this? I seem to recall that the Cowans had a procedure for fighting duels back in the day. Shall we adhere to those rules?” I measure out twenty paces and then spin around with a grin.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “I can’t believe I’m dating a guy who’s over three hundred years old. Maybe I should take pity on you and let you back out. I’d hate for your old and decrepit bones to give out on you if I get too rough.”

  She is not going to rile me that easily. “You did not answer my question.”

  Xandra looks lost for a moment as she tries to remember what I asked. Then she shrugs. “Um, what do you think we should do?”

  I laugh. “Let us start with something small.” My cousin and I often ambush each other armed with weapons that can cause harm. That seems like a good place to start. With just a thought, I have a loaded crossbow in my hand pointed at her chest.

  With hands on her hips she glares at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Has she learned nothing about me? Of course I am going to shoot it at her. Her reflexive magic should kick in before she is harmed. I hope. I pull the trigger.

  Xandra falls to her knees and covers her head with her hands. She looks so cute sitting there in the snow behind a wall of magic at least a foot thick. But I believe I have made my point. She may be able to react, but what good is defense if you have no proper offense? “You will not inspire fear in your enemy if you crouch in fear yourself.”

  “I didn’t expect you to try to shoot me in the heart with a crossbow,” she accuses.

  I shrug. “If I did what you expected, it would not be a true example of warfare.”

  The sparks in her eye alert me that she is about to retaliate. With more than enough magic to do the job, she sends the arrow hurtling back towards me. It probably would have hit me if I had not instantly morphed into my raven form and simply flown away. I look down at her triumphantly from the top of the closest tree. Though in raven form, I admit that my range for portraying facial emotions is rather limited.

  “That’s cheating!” she yells.

  As she concentrates on the fairness of my actions, I leave the safety of the limb and fly towards her at a high rate of speed. To avoid contact, she falls back into the snow making me laugh. Well, caw actually. That was fun. I believe I will do it again.

  Unfortunately, she is more prepared this time. As I soar towards her, she rolls away and erects a wall of magic. And I cannot stop in time. I try to turn sideways, which is not easy when in the form of a bird, and I barely avoid my beak taking the full brunt of the hit. I make impact with the side of my beak and my left wing. Damn it, that hurt. I believe my nose is broken and my shoulder is dislocated. My body reverts to my natural form, leaving me naked in the snow. I believe I will lie here a moment. The cold actually feels good on my painful shoulder. The rest of me, not so much.

  Xandra crouches next to me and bites her bottom lip in that way that makes me crazy. Even lying here in the snow with a bruised face and aching body. I also like how she is trying not to look at all of my naked bits even though she wants to. “Um, are you alright?” she asks.

  Is she serious? I scowl at her at first, but an idea is trickling into my swelling brain. “I would feel much better if you kissed me.”

  I love how gullible she is. She closes her eyes and leans in for a kiss. I use the opportunity to call to three of the Fairy darts I had made when the Witches were planning to attack. I stick all three of them in one of her arms. The desired effect is immediate.

  With slurred words and clouding eyes, she says to me, “You’re naked. I like you naked.”

  I can’t help but grin at that. Leaning up, I whisper in her ear, “Maybe someday I will get to see you naked.” God, I hope it is soon.

  “Uh uh, I don’t want to get married yet.” I chuckle as she pushes me away. She may be drunk but she is not stupid. She knows exactly what will happen when I finally get her naked.

  Sitting up, I clothe myself and add winter attire again. My back and rear end, amongst other areas, are grateful. I lean towards Xandra again and say, “Then how about if I take you prisoner instead.” Calling upon my magic, I pull iron deposits from deep within the ground. It winds up and around capturing her wrists and ankles. Her Fairy half should be bound by the iron.

  Xandra looks up at me and her eyes are bloodshot as if she drank too much wine. Since Fairy darts make her drunk that is not surprising. Looking down at her wrists and then back up at me, she asks in that cute little slurry voice, “Wa’s iss?”

  Triumph is thick in my voice as I say, “Iron. Guaranteed to prevent even the strongest Fairy from escaping.”

  A full blown pout forms on her face. “I don’t like it.”

  I cannot help giving her a kiss on the cheek. What I would really like to do is kiss her until she does not care if having sex means we have to get married. I refrain due to the large audience behind us. “You are not supposed to like it, my little Witch Fairy. That is what war is all about.”

  She gives me a severe look. Trying to stand up, presumably to storm off, she falls back down on her butt. I believe she forgot about her iron manacles. This is probably one of the funniest things I have seen. Ever. My laughing only makes her look more severe.

  I am prepared for a drunken tongue lashing, but instead of talking to me, she looks down at the iron around her wrists, “You don’t want to be on me,” she slurs. “He’s the one you want.” She nods her head in my direction.

  Perhaps I put too much poison in her system. I stop laughing an
d kneel in front of her. “Are you seriously talking to the iron?” She nods her head and she looks so cute and ridiculous, I cannot help but laugh again.

  Until I feel the amount of magic she is pulling. I try to scramble away but I am not fast enough. In a surprise move that I did not anticipate, Xandra makes the iron let go of the hold it has on her and sends it to me. Before I can even blink my eyes, I am constricted by iron. I can already feel it burning my exposed skin on my wrists. It will not be long before it melts my skin from my bones.

  Having proven yet again that her magic is strong enough, and stronger than mine, Xandra is attempting a dramatic exit. It would be much more effective if she would stop falling back into the snow every time she stands up. On her fifth try, she is finally able to bring herself upright. With a final look down at me, she says, “If you were nicer to the iron it would have liked you better and done what you wanted it to do instead of me.” She turns and walks away.

  I shake my head. Drunk or not, I am convinced she truly believes that. Again, a show of ignorance regarding her magical strength. I ponder that as I lie here being painfully eaten away by my iron restraints; left in the cold snow surrounded by magic that only Xandra can reverse. Perhaps someone will send her back my way after she sobers up a little. Though, last time she was like this it took her several hours to sleep it off. I believe by then, the iron will have reached fatally toxic levels in my system. Yet again I detrimentally underestimated her strength and control. I am a moron and I need to apologize. At this point though, that apology may be my deathbed confession.

  Xandra has made it back to the house were her family and Grandmother are watching. It is always a treat to have so many people watch your utter defeat. I can feel Grandmother’s gloating from way over here.

  “Are you okay?” I hear Xandra’s Aunt Barb ask.

  More slurred words from Xandra. “No. Drunk.”

  Apparently, her aunt was not made privy to what happens when Xandra is attacked with Fairy darts. “Drunk? How can you be drunk?”

  “Fairy dart.” Xandra says, followed by, “Ow! That hurts!” She must have realized that the darts were still in her arm emitting poison into her system.

  I thought my humiliation had reached its peak. Apparently, it had only stopped to rest halfway up the mountain. The six foot wall of snow that rises up next to me and then buries me within its depths is the apex. Even under this much snow, I can still hear the laughing.

  After a moment, the snow is swept from me by Grandmother’s magic. She is standing above me now. “I believe you have fallen short in your demonstration of Xandra’s lack of control.”

  If the iron was not sucking every ounce of strength I have left, I would create a wall of snow to bury her under. “Her reactions are not planned. She reacts on impulse and often overreacts, causing a great deal of collateral damage.” I will admit it is much more difficult arguing my point from the precarious position I am in.

  “I would use my magic to free you but as you know, even my magic is not as strong as Xandra’s. I will go to her now and ask for amnesty for you.”

  “Your generosity is overwhelming me, Grandmother,” I say dryly.

  Grandmother laughs. “You did call this upon yourself.”

  There are so many things I would like to say to her at the moment. None would be beneficial to our relationship. “I would appreciate an expedited request for the removal of my iron shackles as I believe they have eaten through my clothes to cause third degree welts over much of my body.”

  “Of course,” Grandmother says with an ‘I am still laughing at you’ nod of the head. I am relieved when she finally walks away. At least, as relieved as I can be while still being eaten alive by a massive amount of iron that I stupidly called forth from the earth. I would say that there is tragic irony here, but that would be a horrible pun.

  After several long moments, I feel the iron easing its grip and it begins its slow journey back to the earth. I cannot even describe the relief I feel as the last bit has fallen away. I lie in the snow for another moment trying to determine how painful it will be to stand up. I decide it will be quite painful but it must be done regardless. Gritting my teeth, I rise from the snowy ground, ignoring the shifting fabric of my clothes rubbing against my blistered skin.

  Doing a slow walk of shame back to the house, I am greeted by smug smiles and half restrained chuckles. No less than I deserve, I guess. Entering the kitchen, I ignore the eyes of everyone in the room and sit down at the table next to Xandra who is sitting with her head on her arms on the table and her eyes closed. To my great surprise, she speaks first. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  Now I feel even worse. She did nothing that I did not drive her to do. “You do not need to be sorry. I was wrong.”

  Once again she surprises me with her response. Opening one eye slightly, she says, “Okay.” Then she closes her eye again.

  I place my hand on her flushed cheek and she smiles slightly as she cuddles against it. She stops smiling when I pull her chin up gently. Scowling, she pulls her face back and rests it on her arms again.

  It is very difficult to have a conversation with her like this. “Xandra, will you please look at me?”

  “Which one of you?” she mumbles into her arms.

  “The one that is sorry that I am always underestimating you.”

  “Talk to me about it later.” She lifts her head up far enough to point it away from me and places it back on her arms.

  I suppose I must take a hint. With a small chuckle, I say, “Alright.”

  Her mother sounds greatly amused when she says to me, “I think she needs to sleep it off. Why don’t you help her to her room?”

  Xandra’s response is almost unintelligible. “I d’wanna go troom.”

  “You will be much more comfortable lying down,” I say gently.

  “No.”

  Extreme measures are called for, I see. Ignoring my blisters, I rise to my feet with a chuckle and scoop her up off the chair. She complains loudly in my ear. Again, her words are unintelligible and I believe that is for the best. I am not sure I want to know exactly what she just called me; I have the general idea.

  I think the motion may have been too much for her because she has clamped her hand over her mouth in the universal ‘I am going to throw up soon’ pose. The sudden green hue of her skin is another good indicator. I am hoping it will not be on me, though I suspect I do deserve it as I am the one who put her in this state. “I hate you right now,” she says between her fingers.

  “Would it help if I told you that I now agree with you about going to the Fae realm?”

  “No.”

  “How about if I tell you I love you?”

  “No.”

  I am stopped from asking her more questions by the urgent motions she has begun making. If I do not want to wear her stomach contents, I need to shut up and get her to the toilet. As soon as I wriggle us into the fairly tight space of the bathroom, she kneels down in front of the bowl and loses her breakfast. My own gag reflex is trying hard to imitate hers. It is only massive self-control that keeps me from scooting her aside and losing my own.

  The only thing I can think to do at the moment is hold her long black hair. Granted, it is already pulled back into a ponytail, but at least I feel somewhat useful. “I am so sorry I made you feel this way,” I say quietly when I think she is done retching.

  She barely turns her head and shoots a glance of pure loathing in my direction. “So am I,” she growls and then heaves again. Self-control. I am not going to throw up. I will convince my throat to stop spasming.

  “Can’t you be useful and find me something to take this feeling away? Or are you enjoying the show?” she growls. Definitely not the latter.

  I probably loathe myself more than she does at the moment. I cannot believe I did this to her. “I truly thought I was doing this for your own good. As I said, I once again underestimated you.”

  She turns her head in my direction and her pall
or takes on a decidedly more green hue with the movement. “Always great to have a boyfriend who doesn’t have faith in me. It’s the romance I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl.”

  I deserved that. I am such an idiot. I am pretty sure poisoning your girlfriend until she is retching uncontrollably is not in the ‘how to keep your girlfriend in love with you’ handbook. “I guess I deserved that.” Still, I latch onto a glimmer of hope. After all, she has not kicked me out yet or told me to never speak to her again. “From your statement, does that mean that I still hold the status of boyfriend?”

  With a glower, she says, “For now.”