Blood Challenge

by Eileen Wilks

  “Had she not shown up again, I don’t know what would have happened. He was refusing to look for her. He’s not himself, not thinking clearly.”

  “Hmm. Well, if he sniffs the containers the potions were in, maybe he could tell if he’d smelled anything like them the night before, at Friar’s. Might be good to know if she was delivering potions there, too. Or if she got them there.”

  “I suspect he could.” Rule shook his head. “Benedict is too distracted to have thought of this, but Isen or I should have.”

  Lily suspected the lupi were more focused on the Lady aspect of this business than she was. That would be of absorbing importance to them. It probably was important, too, but she had a snowball’s chance in hell of figuring out what the Lady had in mind, so she ignored that in favor of what she might be able to figure out. “You’ve been distracted yourself, and Isen is smart as hell, but he’s not a cop.” She drummed her fingers on her leg. “They’ve persuaded her to stay at Clanhome by threatening to tell the cops about her.”

  “Yes. They hope to learn more about her, of course, but also Isen wants to keep her near Benedict. You know what can happen if the bond is stretched beyond its limits.”

  She damned sure did, and the bond was at its most restrictive when it was new. “Benedict really isn’t thinking straight. She has to be told.”

  “If anyone can move my stubborn brother off whatever high ground he thinks he’s defending, it’s our father.”

  “True.” Lily considered the nature of the threat Isen had used to keep the intruder at Clanhome. Even people who weren’t bad guys could be wary of involving the police, but this woman’s aversion seemed excessive. She was up to something. Of course, sneaking onto both Friar’s and Nokolai’s property already suggested that. “She claimed that Friar is clairaudient?”

  “She was quite definite about it, but wouldn’t say how she knew.”

  “Hmm.” Lily had long suspected Friar had a Gift of some sort, but so far she’d been unable to touch him and find out. “That’s a rare Gift, and a hard one to train, I’m told. Go over what they know about her again.”

  “According to Isen, she looks to be around thirty. She wears glasses. She has a physical impediment of some sort. Her hair is red, long, and curly. She seems to know a lot about lupi, or at least about Nokolai. Cullen’s convinced she’s part-sidhe. Her Gift allows her to hide from others’ perceptions. It doesn’t affect Benedict, of course—”

  “Stop there. I don’t get that.”

  “The mate bond supersedes all other magic.” Rule smiled and ran his thumb along the side of her hand. “When we first met, it worried you that you couldn’t feel my magic when we touched. You still don’t. Your Gift doesn’t work on me.”

  True, though she hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms. “So Benedict’s immune, and that’s why he’s guarding her. She can’t play mind tricks on him. Overusing her Gift makes her pass out?”

  He nodded. “So she said, and she did indeed pass out. Nettie examined her and told them not to try to wake her. She called it a natural recuperative trance similar to being in sleep.”

  “I take it she and Benedict haven’t, ah, completed the bond yet.” With sex, she meant. The mate bond was cemented the first time the bonded pair had sex—which they’d be really, deeply, wanting to do. “Not with her passed out.”

  “I don’t think so, but she’s awake now. When I spoke to Benedict about an hour ago, she was in the shower. Isen plans to resume questioning her over dinner.” Rule glanced at his watch. “Which, on that coast, will be happening soon.”

  “Okay, let’s move to impressions—Cullen’s, Benedict’s, Isen’s.”

  “I didn’t talk to Benedict long, and didn’t ask for his impression of her. But he thinks she knows more about us than she should. As for Cullen . . . mostly, he’s excited.”

  About the chance to learn new magical stuff, no doubt. “He would be.”

  “He’s also suspicious of her motives. That’s typical, if illogical. Obviously she’s not an enemy.”

  “Obviously, we don’t know that yet.”

  “She’s Lady-touched, Lily. She might be misguided or coerced, so they are being careful. But she can’t be a true enemy.”

  “According to you, I’m Lady-touched, too, and I damn near arrested you for murder before I figured things out.”

  He smiled. “But you didn’t. Isen called her oddly innocent. Not naïve or ignorant. Innocent. I’m not sure what he means by that.”

  Lily wasn’t either. But she was curious. Intensely so. For so long she’d been it, the only one who knew what a mate bond felt like. The only Chosen.

  Not literally true, she corrected herself. There was a Chosen in Africa, a member of Mondoyo clan. Lily had never met or spoken to her. Neither had most of the lupi, because the woman didn’t travel or speak English. There’d been a Cynyr Chosen, but that was in Wales, and she’d died at the age of a hundred and three before Lily met Rule.

  But other than Lily, there hadn’t been a Chosen in North America since Benedict’s first Chosen died. Now he had another one.

  “Okay, so they don’t know her name or where she’s from,” she said, ticking off the obvious. “But you said they’d found her car, so it shouldn’t be hard to—”

  “No, we do know her name. Sorry. I thought I told you.” Rule shook his head. “Maybe I caught a touch of avoidance from Benedict. He doesn’t refer to her by name, only as ‘she’ or his charge. It’s an unusual name. Arjenie Fox.”

  Lily stared. Could there be two people with that name? “I need my computer. Shit. I need to check . . . Rule, I know her. I’ve worked with her.” And liked her, dammit. “Arjenie Fox is with the Bureau. Someone in the Bureau tried to kill Ruben.”

  Rule’s eyebrows drew down. “It wasn’t her. The timing doesn’t work.”

  She brushed that aside. “I know that. But maybe we aren’t talking about a single player here. Ruben’s hit, I’m hit, and Arjenie just happens to show up at both Friar’s place and Clanhome?” She shook her head grimly. “Chosen or not, that’s too damned suspicious. At best, she knows more than she’s telling. At worst, she’s part of it.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  THE night air had that silken feel Arjenie associated with late spring evenings back home. No fireflies, though. Did they have fireflies in this part of California? She asked Isen, who said no, then told her about some of the bugs they did have.

  Isen Turner was an excellent host now that he wasn’t threatening her. He listened as well as he spoke—and he was an entertaining speaker, whether he was talking about wine or bugs—and he had a sly sense of humor. Clearly he wanted his guest to feel special.

  Special, and relaxed enough to tell him things. That was okay. It wasn’t as if she’d accidentally start blurting out stuff about Dya.

  She was having a wonderful time. She was very conscious of Benedict sitting beside her, though he didn’t say much. Cullen Seabourne did. He’d gotten over his surliness. When Isen took a phone call and left the table to speak with someone privately, Seabourne amused both of them by flirting with her. He was a bit outrageous, but clearly just playing, so she relaxed and enjoyed herself. How often did a woman have an absurdly sexy man say her scent was as fresh and mysterious as a summer night, or that her hair reminded him of calling fire to dance on his fingers?

  When Isen returned he still wore his earbud and he placed his phone nearby. Benedict looked at him with raised brows, which made her think this wasn’t Isen’s usual behavior. She hoped not. Aunt Robin didn’t allow phones at the dinner table, and Arjenie agreed with her.

  “A developing situation,” Isen said vaguely. “My apologies. I need to stay on top of things, but it’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  That made her curious, of course, but it wasn’t any of her business, unless they were about to be attacked by another clan or something. But surely he’d be doing more than keeping his earbud in place if that were the case.


  By the time the silent Carl took away their empty plates, it was fully dark. Carl replaced the lasagna with cheesecake, and the wine with coffee. “That was excellent,” Arjenie said after she swallowed the last bite of her cheesecake.

  “Would you like another piece?” Benedict asked.

  She eyed him. His expression didn’t give much away, but she suspected he was amused. “No, thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” Cullen Seabourne said. “You only had a pound or so of lasagna, along with a few slices of garlic bread—no more than four or five, surely. Plus the cheesecake, of course.”

  No doubt about the expression on that gorgeous face. He was laughing at her. “I suppose you’re wondering where a skinny thing like me puts it all. I have a high metabolism, especially when I’ve been using my Gift. That sucks the calories right out of my body.”

  “That’s not how Gifts usually work.”

  “No.” The meal was over. It was time for the question-and-answer portion of the evening. “I believe it’s normal for those of the Blood, though admittedly my sample is small—me, a few brownies, a half-blood sidhe, a couple others. Do you need to eat after you’ve been through a Change?”

  Seabourne’s eyebrows lifted. “We do, as a matter of fact. You consider yourself of the Blood, then?”

  “Genetically, I’m about three-fourths human. Magically, I’m of the Blood, but I may or may not be sidhe in that respect.”

  “Ah.” He glanced at Isen, who gave a small nod. “Maybe you could explain.”

  “I can. I’m not used to it, but I can do it. Do you want to ask questions, or should I give you a . . . well, not a summary. I don’t abbreviate well. But I could tell you about my heritage.”

  Isen answered this time. “Please do.”

  “Okay. I’m asking you to be really careful about what you repeat to anyone else. I’ll explain why in a minute.” She put a hand on her chest. Funny. Her heartbeat had picked up and her mouth was dry. “This is harder than I thought it would be. It’s been such a big secret my whole life. I’ve never spoken of it to anyone outside of family. Well. The short version is that my mother was human. My father is sidhe. Low sidhe,” she added.

  “The distinction doesn’t mean anything to me,” Isen said. “Low sidhe?”

  “Sidhe divide themselves into three groups or classes: High, Middle, and low. High Sidhe are the immortals. There aren’t many of them. I’m told that most people in the sidhe realms go their whole lives without seeing a High Sidhe. Middle sidhe are the elfin nobility—and the way they determine who’s noble is confusing, but never mind that for now. Low sidhe are everyone else. Well, not humans—”

  “There are humans in the sidhe realms?” Isen asked.

  “Sure. We seem to be everywhere. What I meant was that low sidhe includes a lot of elves, plus a lot of mixed bloods, plus races other than elves who share in the sidhe magical heritage.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s complicated, but they determine who’s sidhe and who isn’t based on bloodlines and on common magical descent. It’s possible for magic to be passed on in ways that have nothing to do with the physical DNA. Pixies are a good example. They can’t interbreed with elves, so there’s no shared DNA, but their magic is descended from sidhe magic—don’t ask me how—so they’re considered sidhe.”

  “Interesting,” Isen murmured. “I suppose that’s why you consider yourself of the Blood? Your magic isn’t human, and I suppose your blood would interfere with lab tests. Yet, if I understand correctly, you aren’t sure if it’s sidhe magic or not.”

  “It’s more that I don’t know if the sidhe would consider me sidhe. That’s sort of important. My father is just under half sidhe by bloodlines—fifteen thirty-seconds, to be precise. His mother was a one-woman melting pot. If he were exactly half-sidhe, he’d automatically be considered low sidhe. Since he isn’t, he had to be tested. His magic tests as sidhe, so he’s sidhe.”

  Isen nodded thoughtfully. “You haven’t been tested?”

  “No.” She sighed. “Like I said, it’s complicated. My father did register my birth, which means I’m entitled to be tested, and he thinks I would test as sidhe. Not because I’m powerful, but my Gift is a sidhe ability. Kind of a rare one, too,” she added. “Or so he said the last time I saw him, but that was years and years ago. He isn’t exactly attentive. But I’d have to go to one of the sidhe realms to be tested, and that isn’t possible, which means I’m sort of at risk.”

  Benedict spoke for the first time in quite awhile. “What risk?”

  “There are, um, some people in some of the realms who might want to breed me or use my blood.”

  He growled.

  She blinked. “Wow. That sounds exactly like a wolf. I didn’t know you could do that when you were being a man.”

  He took a slow breath and looked at the lovely man sitting across from her. “Seabourne, do you know what she’s talking about?”

  Cullen Seabourne took his time answering, his expression abstracted, as if he were thinking hard. Or maybe seeing hard. He was watching Arjenie the way a mongoose watches a cobra. “Some blood is more magically potent than others. I assume that’s what she refers to.”

  Arjenie nodded. “Yes, and there are some spells you can only do with sidhe blood. I’ve made some guesses about what they might be, but Eledan wouldn’t tell me, and I suppose that isn’t important right now. I’m considered Sha’almuireli kin now, but if I tested as sidhe I’d be Sha’ almuireli—or possibly Divina’hueli, since my father does have some of that in his bloodline, but he’s Sha’almuireli, so I probably would be, too. If I turned out to be sidhe at all, that is. But being Sha’almuireli, however lowly a member, would probably keep me from being grabbed.”

  “I’m guessing that Sha’ almuireli is one of the Hundred?” Seabourne said. When she nodded he added to the others, “There are a fixed number of sidhe surnames, which designate kinship groups similar to clans—though it’s a great deal more complicated than the way we think of clans.”

  “It certainly is,” she said with feeling. “I don’t understand it all, but—” But she was trying to be brief. Not succeeding, but trying, so she wouldn’t go into that. “Unfortunately, there isn’t any way for me to be tested.”

  “You’ve never been to the sidhe realms, then?” Isen asked.

  “Oh, no. Eledan can cross realms whenever he wants—and that’s usually a middle sidhe ability, not low sidhe, but that’s the thing about mixed bloods. Sometimes we’re just a diluted version of a sidhe. Other times we don’t have any sidhe skills at all, but the other parent’s innate magic gets passed on, only stronger than usual. And sometimes we only get one or two of the sidhe abilities, but we get that full-strength. That’s how it worked with Eledan, and with me, too.”

  “But he can cross, and he wants you to be tested, yet he’s never taken you there for this testing.”

  “There’s a mass limit to what he can carry when he crosses. I’m too big now. When I was little enough for him to take me, my mother wouldn’t permit it. She thought he wouldn’t watch out for me properly, or maybe he’d forget to bring me back. He might have. He’s not very reliable.”

  Benedict spoke again. “I take it Eledan is your father’s name.”

  She flushed. “Yes. I don’t call him Father because, you know, he isn’t. He’s my genetic parent, and he’s got some sense of duty toward me, but it isn’t very highly developed.”

  Benedict’s eyes were flat. So was his voice. “What did you mean about them breeding you?”

  He looked scary again. He sounded scary, too. Why did all that grimness make her want to touch him? Right there, along that hard jaw . . . Behave, she told herself. “The sidhe realms are not uniform, no more than our realm is. Some governments in our world suck at civil rights. Some governments in the sidhe worlds do, too. There’s one place that’s rancid with slavery and other ugliness. According to Eledan, if I ended up there, I’d be used as breeding stock.”
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br />   “And how would someone in this slavery realm know about you?”

  “Like I said, my father registered my birth, so it wouldn’t be all that hard to find out I exist and that this is my home realm. Especially because of Eledan’s profession.”

  This time it was Isen who spoke. “Which is?”

  “Um. We don’t have an analog for it. He’s unusually fertile for a sidhe, so basically he gets paid for impregnating women. Um—not my mother. She was a busman’s holiday. He was in our realm and she drew his attention, and he does have a touch of the sidhe glamour, though even without it he’s almost as beautiful as Mr. Seabourne.”

  “Cullen,” Seabourne murmured. “Lovely ladies should always call me Cullen, not mister.”

  She awarded him a quick grin before continuing. “What I’m getting at is that Mom wasn’t a paid job for Eledan, but he did come back to see if he’d impregnated her. That was partly duty, like I said, but also, the more offspring he registers, the better. Especially sidhe offspring, so we can’t assume he’s right about me testing as sidhe. I suspect he confuses what he wants with what is.”

  Benedict shoved back his chair and stood. “Excuse me.” He strode away.

  She started to rise, too. “What’s wrong?”

  Isen put a hand on her arm. “Give him a moment. “

  “But—”

  “He’s angry. He doesn’t like the way your father treated you.”

  She watched as, in three strides, Benedict reached the retaining wall and leaped almost straight up onto the upper deck. There he began pacing.

  Arjenie frowned. Benedict was truly upset. His father seemed to think he should be left alone, but... “Do you always interpret him for people?” she asked Isen, then patted the hand he’d used to stop her. “Never mind. I think I’ll go to the original text.” She stood.

  Seabourne spoke quickly. “That may not be a good idea.”

  “Resides,” Isen murmured, but to Seabourne, not her. In this context that meant calm down or subside. “Benedict is not you.”

  Arjenie limped over to the stairs. Benedict stopped pacing and looked down at her, his expression not at all welcoming, so she was surprised when he jumped down to land beside her. “You’re supposed to stay off your ankle.”