Faerie Blood

by Angela Korra'ti

  “Me kind of losing it a little,” I admitted, edging further into the room and shrugging as offhandedly as I could. “You mind if we hang out in here a bit?” To my relief he shook his head, so I sank down into the empty spot next to him on the love seat. “Aunt Aggie wants me to call in sick,” I said then, holding up the phone.

  “And Millicent wants us to get on the computer,” Jude added, plopping onto the chair by the desk and idly swiveling this way and that. “Says she wants us to send some email to some Warders for her, try to find out about those guys at the bar.”

  Christopher’s features twisted; he rubbed his forehead once again, pulling his fingers down along the bridge of his nose as though his headache had gotten a second wind. “Probably knows what she’s about, then,” he said hollowly.

  I watched him, frowning, all too aware of what Jude had told me coming down the hallway—and of Millicent’s revelations about his history. Neither one seemed appropriate for comment. “If it means anything, I got her to promise she’d stop giving you such a hard time,” I ventured instead.

  That made him blink and lower his hand. Hazel eyes going wide, he regarded me with a touch of startled wonder. “You did? Anythin’ to do with you losin’ it?”

  “I got a little cranky, I guess. It seemed to work.” I offered him a rueful little smile, but I couldn’t hold it for long, and I looked down fretfully at my hands as I shifted the phone from palm to palm. “And I guess this thing going on with me gets cranky when I do. Millie kind of had to make me stop it.”

  My little confession seemed to make more sense to Christopher than it did to me; for a long moment he studied me, and then he nodded. All he said, though, was a quiet, “Thank you.”

  Just two syllables and no more, but they felt like an achievement. “Hey, no worries, big guy,” I answered, grinning, and never mind Jude pretending to ignore us as she fired up Aggie’s computer. Just before the screen filled up with the machine’s boot-up output, I caught a glimpse of her reflection within it—and the sneaky little grin she was keeping out of my line of sight. “I figure somebody around here ought to be making you feel at home, you know?”

  His eyes lightening, Christopher said, “You’d best be callin’ in.”

  “Right.” I’d almost forgotten about the phone. My grin eased down a bit, but I let it linger as I punched in the number. And though I didn’t want to, I got up to lean past Jude and type in my login ID and password on the keyboard. “I set the box up for her,” I explained. “I have a login on it.”

  Jude nodded and swiveled around in the chair to consider Christopher. “So,” she said brightly, “you’re from Newfoundland, huh? Do you do music at all? I’ve heard of a few great bands from there—”

  Though Christopher’s morose expression concerned me, I had to tune out Jude’s attempt at cheering him up. After two rings, the voice of our company’s receptionist said with amiable courtesy, “nTrust Networking, may I help you?”

  “Yes please, can you connect me with James Selkirk’s extension?”

  The receptionist patched me through, and my boss picked up instantly. “nTrust, James speaking,” he said, with that sort of brisk, distracted air he always got whenever he was answering the phone and reading his email at the same time.

  “Hi, James, this is Kendis. Listen, I know I should have asked about this before we shipped, but something’s come up.” I paced with the phone in my hand as I spoke, thinking fast about what to tell him. I still didn’t like the idea of lying about illness on either my part or Jude’s, and so I took the only option that seemed left: as much of the truth as seemed safe. “It’s, um, a personal family matter. And I was just wondering if it’d be okay if Jude and I both took the day off? She’s offered to help me out—”

  “Excuse me,” my boss interrupted, distraction leaving his voice and perceptible confusion replacing it. “Who did you say you were?”

  I blinked, frowned, and stopped pacing. “Kendis,” I repeated, a warning bell chiming in the back of my mind. This wasn’t the first time James had been this distracted answering his phone—and ship parties sometimes left even my usually efficient employer a little ragged the next morning.

  But he’d never failed to recognize my name.

  Something in my tone must have alerted Jude, for she broke off her chatter to Christopher as I said, “Y’know… tester Kendis? Sits three offices down the hall from you? Likes to listen to Afro Celt Sound System?”

  James remained polite, but he also remained baffled. “Are you sure you have the right number? There’s no Kendis on my team.”

  Christopher sat up straighter on the love seat. “Hang up,” he urged, his eyes taking on a spark of amber.

  Unnerved, I blurted into the receiver, “Ah, let me check… gee, you’re right! I screwed up the number. I’m so sorry for bothering you, bye!”

  “No problem. Have a nice day.”

  Click. Silence. I stood there holding the phone as I tried to assimilate what had just happened, and then I looked in worried bewilderment at the others.

  “Ken?” Jude prodded, paling as she took in the look on my face.

  “Our boss,” I said, “just had no idea who I am.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Two words, chica: not good,” said Jude, urgency sharpening her features as she snatched the phone out of my hands and hit the redial button. When the receptionist answered her call, though, my friend launched into her brightest, perkiest voice.

  “Hi! Can you put me through to James Selkirk? Thank you very much, yes, I’ll hold… hi, James, this is Jude.” Her eyebrows went up, and between her expression and the words she said next, I could tell she was having a far different conversation with our boss than the one I’d just had. “Yeah, you pegged me. I need today off. I know I should have asked in advance, but it’s urgent… no, no, I’m fine. Friend of mine’s having a family emergency, though. Her name’s Kendis Thompson. Have I mentioned her to you before? Oh, I could have sworn…” Jude frowned at me then, her face in direct contrast to her airy tone, but kept on talking. “Yes, that was her just now, actually, sorry about that; she’s pretty shaken up right now and I was having her call in on my phone. She must have hit the speed dial for you by mistake… no, it’s okay. Anyway, she needs me to give her a hand. That all right?” It must have been, for she drew in a relieved breath and flashed me a thumbs-up. “Yeah, I should be back in on Monday. See you then. Thanks, James. Bye!”

  I stared at her as she hung up. “He didn’t react at all to my name, did he?” I asked unhappily.

  Jude shook her head, brown eyes troubled. “Not a bit,” she said. “Sounded absolutely normal, except for the part where he doesn’t remember you’ve worked for him for the past five years.”

  “This can’t be coincidence. Not now, not with—” Dread crackled through me. I fought it down as I started to pace, crossing my arms along my chest and drumming my fingers along each elbow. My fingertips seemed more sensitive than usual. Each little impact set off sparks through my system, which reminded me of the surge of prickling that had hit me out in the kitchen, and stirred it back into life.

  Christopher got up and stepped in front of me, gripping my shoulders. The weight and warmth of his hands stopped me in my tracks, but it was the anxiety rising in his face that drew my eyes up to his. “Sounds like a spell,” he said. “Was your boss with you in the bar last night, when the Unseelie sang?”

  “Yeah, our whole team was there for our ship party—um, for computer software. Jude and I are testers,” I explained at his baffled look. Then I went cold, thinking of Elessir a’Natharion and his bewitching voice. His song had almost done me in.

  Had he hypnotized James with it too? Sanjit? Marshall? Alex?

  “You think that singer did something?”

  “He’s Unseelie,” answered Christopher. His face turned grim again. “They delight in wreakin’ havoc with mortals.”

  Jude protested, “But he was fighting with the others. And he said hi
s, um, Court wanted to talk to Kendis.”

  “If he wants somethin’ of you, it’s all the more reason for an Unseelie to twist knots in your mind.” Those words came out of Christopher so dark and cold that I knew I didn’t want to know what could put that kind of tone into his voice.

  And yet, I had to. I reached up to lay my hands on his, squeezing his fingers, wanting to chase that shadow off his face—and out of my own thoughts. “That red-headed Seelie wanted something out of me, too,” I said. “And he laid a way bigger whammy on me than Elessir did.”

  “Don’t think that doesn’t worry me, either.”

  “You know about these things,” I began, and then faltered. Now was the time to ask for his help, but I wouldn’t push him the way Millicent had done. Nor could I begin to think of the right questions to ask to work it all through on my own. So I settled for invoking a promise. “You said at the bar last night that you’d tell me what you could. You still will, won’t you?”

  “Millicent will know more,” Christopher said, lowering his eyes. “You’d be best off talkin’ to her.”

  He tried to lower his hands too, but I hung onto them and focused on the faint tingling energy between his palms and mine. Its presence steadied me—and pleased me. I trusted it; I trusted Christopher. It made no sense, for I’d known him only a scant few hours longer than I’d known Millie, but I trusted him. “I don’t get this from Millicent,” I replied, bobbing my head down to our hands so he’d know what I meant. “Tell me about it. Tell me about what the Sidhe could have done to James, and if anybody else is in danger! Please. I’m flying blind here, pal.”

  ‘Please’ had swayed him in the parking lot of the Penguin, and it swayed him again now. Christopher nodded and shakily released my hands, staring down at his fingers as though he’d never seen them before. “I don’t know what’s doin’ it,” he whispered. “The Warders, the Sidhe, we’ve all got magic in us. We can all sense each other…”

  “But not like you and I are doing.”

  A sparse smile curled his mouth. “Let me put it this way, lass. My granddad used to say there’s a difference between a fish in the water and a fish on the line.”

  Jude giggled at that, and my face heated as I glanced at her. “Don’t mind me,” she piped, looking back and forth between Christopher and me. The computer’s screen saver had kicked in just behind her, filling the monitor with a slow cascade of stars. “This is fascinating me mightily even if I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That makes two of us,” I admitted, grinning at her and Christopher both. To him, I added, “’Cause you know, I’ve never caught a fish.”

  “Not to worry.” My grin seemed to hearten him, for his scant smile got a little bigger. “Neither have I…”

  All at once he wobbled, and that was my only warning before every nerve ending I possessed fired off at once. My eyes began to burn, and I blinked and scrubbed my knuckles across them, trying to soothe them. I staggered right along with Christopher even as I reached for him, thinking vaguely, Concussion.

  He grabbed for me at the same time, and Jude grabbed at both of us. “What the hell?” she cried.

  “Kendis, are you…” Christopher’s voice thickened. His hands, landing once more on my shoulders, trembled.

  “Help me get him sitting down,” I begged Jude. The prickling rush of magic roared across my senses, dizzying me, almost blinding me, but Christopher was the one who was hurt. I held onto my balance long enough to help Jude guide him back to the love seat. The moment he was on it, I collapsed beside him and mumbled, “And I second her question.”

  “It’s Millicent,” Christopher mumbled. Whether to Jude, himself, or me I wasn’t sure. “Bolsterin’ the Wards on the house…”

  “Ken,” Jude breathed in awe, “right now your eyes are about the bitchingest shade of yellow I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  I slammed the eyes in question shut, trying to ride out what had smacked me. But that only sharpened the sensations coursing all over my skin. “Jude, maybe you better go tell her to quit it,” I said. Christopher slumped against me, his head hanging, and the press of his body against me drew stronger sparks towards it, like iron filings to a magnet. Unable to pull myself out of my own slump, I felt my awareness carried off by the flood of energy within him—

  No. Not energy, but rather, a path where energy could go. I got a brief confused impression of a strike of lightning pulled down a lightning rod, a single bright flash against the bigger, more powerful storm just outside the house.

  “I’ll be okay,” Christopher said weakly. But he couldn’t seem to pull away from me, and I forced myself to lift my head and look at him.

  “Her magic’s hurting your head!”

  He didn’t deny it, and he still leaned heavily against me, but he began to sit up a little straighter. “I’ll get over it,” he rasped. “Keep talkin’. Keeps me focused.”

  Jude, poised to bolt out the door, hesitantly scooted her chair a little closer. “So, uh, hi, Not Feeling a Damned Thing Girl here,” she said, waving a hand at us to get our attention. “How about telling me what’s going on? Ken, you’re really feeling magic?”

  “As we speak,” I said, shaking my head, struggling to clear it. I’d slung an arm around Christopher, and I clung to his shoulders as an anchor against the magic drowning my senses. “What’s she doing out there, anyway? How do you bolster a Ward?”

  His eyes wild, his features tense, Christopher hauled in a long breath. Then he said, “This is a home; it’s had a family in it…”

  “A little one,” I pointed out. “Just Aunt Aggie and me.”

  “That still counts. It makes energy you can build into a Ward.” Christopher’s grimace deepened, and his eyes slammed shut as mine had done. “Her blood would add strength to the house Wards too, but I can’t feel it right…” He clapped a hand to his brow, scowling. “Jesus thunderin’ Christ, it’s not supposed to hurt!”

  Jude frowned and got to her feet. “I’m going to go tell her to stop—”

  “No!” With force enough to drain all the color from his face, Christopher snapped his head up. “She thinks I’m worse than useless as it is!”

  “What, you want to prove her right?” I demanded. “You nearly had your skull cracked open, remember? She can leave off working her mojo till it stops giving you migraines!”

  I was ready to charge outside, find Millicent, and insist she do just that. How much more Warding could the house need anyway, if she’d been adding to it for twenty-seven years? Despite my own overtaxed senses, I beckoned to Jude and lurched up off the love seat, an effort that made the prickling rushing through me ripple perceptibly. But Christopher snared my hand. When I looked back at him pain still drew his features into taut lines, but his gaze was firm and clear.

  “My head’ll keep,” he insisted. “Your aunt won’t, and neither will you.” Those last few words he directed to Jude, who bristled, and he went on, “Sorry, lass, but you won’t.”

  Jude’s dark brows drew together in the way that always heralded an impending argument with the developers at work. “Millie made me put that stuff in my eyes—”

  “Yeah, she did, and that gave you Sight, but all that means is you’ll see what’s comin’ if one o’ the Sidhe does to you what’s been done to your boss. And until Kendis can defend herself, it can happen to her just as well.”

  The very idea of Aggie or Jude struck with the same unnatural memory loss that had afflicted James made my blood go cold. So did the notion of another round of that thrall the red-haired Sidhe had laid upon me. “All right, all right,” I said, “no slacking on the defenses. I get that. But we’d better go tell Millicent and Aggie both about what’s happened to James, at least.”

  Christopher sagged back against the love seat, letting go of my fingers and giving me a weary nod. “Yeah, they’d best know.” He rubbed the very top of his head, but peered up at me beneath his hand as he did. “Are you all right, then?”

 
Was I? I took a quick mental survey, or at least tried to; the attempt to focus made me reel. Breathe, I ordered myself, hoping to calm myself down the way I’d done in the kitchen with Millie. In, out, in, out.

  A few rounds of that helped, and I smiled down at Christopher. “I’ll keep. You just take it easy for a few, okay?”

  “If you’ll bring me a bit more Tylenol when you come back,” he said. The love seat was too short to accommodate his rangy frame with any ease, though that didn’t stop him from shifting position and trying to stretch out along it.

  “I will,” I promised. I didn’t have the heart to suggest he move to the living room couch—and before I could give in to the urge to sit back down with him, I waved at Jude once more to get her to follow me out into the hall. “C’mon.”

  As Jude and I headed out of the den the rush from Millicent’s Warding work subsided almost as suddenly as it had arisen, fading down to a barely noticeable vibration in the air. Just enough of it remained to tug me towards the kitchen. There we found my aunt loading up the dishwasher, and she looked up with a grateful smile as Jude stepped up to give her a hand with the dishes. Millie in the meantime was coming in through the sliding glass door that looked out on Aggie’s backyard, her hat on her head and a “mission accomplished” sort of look written across her face.

  Which was all well and good, but I had a mission of my own.

  “Whatever you were doing out there gave Christopher a hell of a headache,” I announced the moment she was in earshot. “Is this going to keep happening to him every time somebody makes magic go around him?”

  Pulling the patio door closed behind her, Millicent said with a sharp little humph, “Probably. Boy’s got a power link open to the city, but it ain’t stable, and that troll clobbering him can’t have helped.”