That’s why Samson was so important. Jett, the third member of her triumvirate, was the Master of Auckland City. In touch with his Light, but awash in Dark as well. Jett was a contradiction. The Dark inside Georgia called to him, yet he was a good vampire. A good Master of the City. Fair. Just. Strong.
But if he alone had been Georgia’s kindred, the Dark Shadow would have taken over, consumed my friend.
Samson, a vampire under my mother’s Lux Lucis Tribuo line, was full of Light. He called to the Nosferatin in Georgia. I think he called to the woman she used to be before she had been turned.
Theirs was a complicated relationship. A lot of give-and-take. Georgia loved Samson. The Dark Shadow considered Jett her mate.
I flicked my eye over to her inner vampire and watched the Dark Shadow take on its incorporeal form. Smoke filled red eyes swept across the small distance between us, steadily meeting mine. The Dark Shadow didn’t like Álfheimr. It blinked and then vanished from sight.
When I next brushed Georgia’s body with my Light, the Dark had receded.
“Stop doing that,” Georgia said mildly. Ediz growled and then hissed. “Not you, shifter-boy. Ellie. I know what you’re doing. Stop.”
Georgia didn’t like being reminded of her dual personality.
Suitably chastised, I looked straight ahead to where my friend had first appeared in Amun’s chamber. There was no denying the scene was a little creepy. Amun and Sophie stood in front of his desk, their bodies frozen. The vampires around the room stood in various positions of movement, a type of motion that was completely motionless.
A shiver ran down my spine.
“How angry is the King?” I asked softly when we all stopped in the middle of the room.
“Oh, you know Aliath,” Georgia drawled. “Any reason to throw a party.”
I closed my eyes and held my breath.
“He cares for you, Ellie,” Georgia murmured. He did. The Fairy King did care for Luc and I. “But never forget who he is,” my friend added. “He was a Herra of the Grey Lords. The nephew of one of the most powerful Dökkálfa Queens. He has ruled Álfheimr for twenty Earth years. He created the chains that imprisoned the Ljósálfar. When he roars, thunder rolls throughout Faerie and its resonant boom can be heard on Earth. And most importantly, El, he is Dökkálfa. At their core, they are cruel and vicious, wicked and predatory. They feed off a being’s life force. Beauty, courage, hope, love. Everything you are they covet. Given half the chance or when caught unawares, Aliath would feed on you until only a shell is left.”
“He would suffer the full and mighty wrath of the Iunctio,” Alain growled low in her ear.
Georgia looked over her shoulder at Papa’s Second.
“Do you honestly believe, Dupont, that a fairy would care?”
“He has an accord with the Prophesied,” Alain argued. I just felt sick to the stomach. Those ribbons inside were tangling.
Knots. Knots. So many knots. This was a bad idea.
“He’s a fairy, spymaster,” Georgia spat. “A Dark member of the Fey. And he’s the King of Álfheimr. Here on Earth, Michel Durand has some sway. In Faerie…” She didn’t need to finish. We were entering Aliath’s domain. Alain wouldn’t be able to telepathically communicate with my father. My mother could no longer sense my Light once we crossed into that realm. Ediz would be considered a threat or a play thing.
And me? I had enchanted blood that called to the Ljósálfar. What the hell would it do to their Darker cousins?
“Say what you really think, Nothus,” I said with a scowl.
Georgia smiled, flashing fang. “Don’t worry, Nosferatin. I’ll protect you.”
The portal expanded, swallowing us whole, and drowning out Ediz’s vehement complaint. Ozone replaced stillness. A crack and boom replaced the Erbörü’s hiss and growl. And then we were there. Before the king.
In a room full of hungry Dark Fey.
10
And My Broken Heart Spilt Its Love
The scents hit me first. Always so intricate and alluring, so deep and tempting. So strong. Then the visual glory that is the Álfheimr realm struck like a second wave. Colours so vibrant you wanted to cry. Fabrics so rich you wanted to reach out and touch them. Beauty so frightening, a part of your soul wept for its perfection. Your heart breaking at the splendour of the gods.
Here the Fey have no need for glamour. In Álfheimr, they can be themselves. The Hyrða can wear their green skins without censure. The Fīfrildi can float on gossamer wings without drawing an eye. Sharp teeth and curved horns are normal, even admired. The vibrant colours of their eyes are spellbinding. The silver of their hair a metallic shine.
They are beautiful and otherworldly and as lethal as the sharpest blade. But their bite does not cut skin or puncture veins. It’s more insidious than that. A Dökkálfa simply homes in on your courage, your hope, your love, feeds off your beauty, eats all of your soul. Suppressing those things while in this realm could mean the difference between life and death.
I scanned the magnificent hall we’d arrived in, took in at a glance the number of Fey in the room, then located the biggest threat.
Aliath, King of Dökkálfa, sat on an intricate throne made up of twisted red vines and sweet smelling white roses. His silver blonde hair floated around his regal looking face, his vivid green eyes drilling into my body. I lowered my gaze, not wanting to be trapped by those beguiling peepers, and concentrated on the superbly made black clothing he was wearing.
Their skins may be a multitude of fascinating colours, but the Dökkálfa always wore black.
Purposefully bowing low, I fisted my hand over my chest and greeted the most powerful fairy I had ever encountered.
“Greetings, Aliath, Terra of the Grey Lords, King of Dökkálfa and the Fair Lands. I am honoured to be in your Court and in Álfheimr.”
Silence echoed throughout the grand hall, not even a rustle of heavy silk fabric. Not even an indrawn breath of predatory anticipation. A silence that echoed as if for millennia, so profound and unfathomable.
I stood up, my gaze slightly adrift of all that overwhelming beauty, my palms sweaty, the Kilij a welcome presence at my side.
“Are you?” Aliath asked, his voice a thousand chiming bells inside my head. My body swayed. My fists clenched. I turned my heated gaze on the King.
Aliath began to laugh.
“Éliane,” he said, chuckling. “You are exactly what my weary Court requires. So long have we lived without entertainment. Come,” he said, standing. “Walk with me.”
I flicked a glance at Alain; he looked for all intents and purposes unconcerned. But when his eyes met mine, I saw his worry. Fleeting, there one second gone the next. Had I not known Alain Dupont so well, I would have missed it.
We walked to greet our death.
My eyes scanned the room again, alighting on Georgia. She lounged on an antique looking sofa, the spindly legs too delicate to carry the Nothus’ weight. Her eyes met mine, the Dark Shadow winked. If Georgia could put on a show of nonchalance, then so could I.
I’d been raised by the best at hiding his emotions, after all.
I fell into step beside Aliath and casually walked out of the room.
The King didn’t say a word until we were well outside of the building, some distance away down a curving path bordered with sweet smelling plum coloured roses.
“Your mother loves this garden,” he said eventually. “I have the flowers replanted every season in a different shade, and make her walk here blindfolded until she can guess the colour.”
I couldn’t imagine my mother doing such a thing, but the Fey can’t lie. Or, at least, the Dökkálfa choose not to. But as anyone knows, a fairy is quite adept at twisting his words until they are a mere semblance of the truth.
“That would be a sight to see,” I murmured.
Aliath’s smile was a physical touch along the side of my jacket’s sleeve. A soft brush of amusement that I actually felt but didn’t dare turn my face enou
gh to see.
“Of course, you are aware of her favourite colour,” Aliath said. Not a question. I answered anyway.
“Black.”
“You are so like her in so many ways,” he said. “But it is your father’s blood that makes you enchanting.”
I did swing my head enough to look at him then. My father had always called my and Luc’s blood enchanted. Hakan had called it kan büyülü, which I’d later found out meant the same. It’s what the Ljósálfar craved. It’s what I suspected had awoken the Mhachkay, or at least had awoken Hakan Bahar. It’s what my father had said was calling many more creatures to me.
“My father’s blood,” I repeated, watching Aliath’s profile carefully.
“No vampyre has ever fathered a child. And Michel Durand has fathered two.”
The Fairy King did mean my blood, then. Not just my company, but that which runs through my veins; half Nosferatin, half Nosferatu.
“Nut’s blessing,” I replied steadily. Our goddess Nut had undoubtedly had a hand in my mother’s pregnancy. The Ambrosia had spoken at the time of the life-giving power of Light. Nut is all Light. I’d always assumed it was the goddess’ involvement which had enchanted Luc’s and my blood.
“And yet your brother is consumed in the Dark,” Aliath said pleasantly, coming to a halt before a marble statue of the former queen. Even smoothed from aeons of weathering, the viewer could see her alluring beauty and the taint of rot underneath.
Aliath gazed up at his aunt’s sculpture, his hands clasped casually behind his back.
“There is Light and Dark in all of us,” he murmured. “You know this.” I nodded. “I see it in you. I see it in your mother and father. I do not see it in Lucien.”
“You’ve seen him,” I said, making sure not to phrase the sentence as a question. An answered question would leave me in his debt. I felt I was enough in his debt already by merely still living. “You know where he is,” I added, my voice flat.
Aliath turned toward me, his eyes so bright I stumbled back a step. He dimmed them, marginally, but his presence still felt too heavy, too vast, too much.
“I am aware of every soul in Álfheimr,” he said, those bells chiming.
“Even those in Ljósálfar,” I managed to gasp. He didn't relent, his presence as consuming as ever, the weight of his magnificence a physical pressure on my head.
“I see far and wide, I sense all that traverse my lands. But I cannot see your brother.”
“But you said…”
“I said that I do not see Light and Dark in your brother. Because I cannot see him at all. But I can sense him.”
I shook my head. Aliath was trying to make a point in typical roundabout fairy fashion.
“Your Majesty,” I tried. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
Aliath dimmed his presence enough to face me, allowing me the honour of looking directly into his eyes and not have mine weep bloody tears from the sheer beauty of his being.
“Éliane, you are a beacon of Light,” he said softly. “I felt you even before you arrived in my Court. If you were to walk out of sight, I would still feel you. But I would also be able to ‘see’ you. You are not quite Mœðr.” The Fey word for mother or mate. “You are more.”
I let out a slow breath of air. Being ‘more’ wasn't always a good thing in this place.
“More,” I said.
“More,” he replied, then added. “Elska to all.”
My mother had told me the story of Lutin, Prince of Ljósálfar, who had forced her into a marriage because he believed her to be his elska. His love and his alone. But is that what Aliath meant?
“Elska to all,” I repeated, unable to ask him what I wanted without incurring a debt.
“To my people, you are a treasure. One we can bask in and share. To the Ljósálfar you are a píka. A gift. A girl. A reward. To covet and keep hidden. To enjoy alone. To laud over the rest. You are power personified. It is you who have broken their chains.” Oh, Goddess. “Light lies within you, Éliane, beyond anything a Ljósálfar can ever hope to possess. You are a prize, a font of beauty, their love, hope and courage rolled into one.”
From a Dökkálfa, that was high praise indeed. And frightening.
“But Luc is not full of Light,” I said, bringing us back to Aliath’s original point.
“No, my dear,” the King said. “Should he have even a small smattering of Light, I would see him. I would know exactly where he is. But all I sense is Darkness. A deep hole, an unfathomable rift.”
My heart broke apart and left only fractured pieces.
“To the Ljósálfar, you understand,” Aliath said, “this is the opposite of a gift.”
I lifted my face to the King of Dökkálfa and met eyes full of sorrow. I started weeping.
He brushed a tear from my cheek, brought his thumb to his lips, and licked the drop with his tongue. I pulled on every reserve I had to tamp down my emotions.
But the ribbons twisted, and my Sigillum swirled, and the King of all Fairies said…
“He is their nightmare.”
And my broken heart spilt its love.
11
Don’t Mess With The Dark Shadow
Alain somehow managed to find us. I hadn’t even realised we’d strayed from the manicured paths to a secluded area of the garden. The scent of roses wafted on the air. The smell of ozone always present. The King of Dökkálfa surrounded.
Alain’s slashing sword, as it hacked its way through the protective and thorny vines around us, glinted in the late afternoon sun. The flash of silver roused me; the irony of a vampire carrying that particular metal amused.
I giggled. The King moaned softly. The sun twirled around the moon.
“Éliane,” Alain said urgently.
“Here, let me,” Georgia’s voice said from behind him.
A flare of Light, the crackle of burned branches, and then the vines parted and let them in.
“Aliath!” Georgia growled, her Dark Shadow prowling at the edge of my vision. “Snap out of it!”
“Dear Goddess,” Alain muttered. “I’ll kill him.”
“Sheath your fangs, vampire,” Georgia ordered. “He’s stopped feeding.”
“He should not have fed at all!”
“Ellie,” Georgia murmured, kneeling at my side. Her hand brushed my hair from my eyes. She looked crooked. No, that’s not right. She looked sideways. And then I realised it was me on my side, not her.
I tried to sit up; firm arms held me tightly.
“Aliath,” Georgia said tightly. “Do you wish the Champion to demand your head?”
“How come you get to ask questions?” I mumbled.
No one answered me, but Aliath did make a sound of distress.
“Aliath,” Georgia said again. “Where is your honour?”
“Enchanted,” the King replied, his voice a symphony inside my head.
“Jesus, Ellie, you really do pick ‘em,” Georgia muttered.
I found myself righted, a hard bench pressing into the back of my thighs. Coldness seeped into my fingers and toes, making me shiver. The lack of Aliath’s warmth sending withdrawals throughout my body.
A string of words in Fey followed.
“What happened?” my friend demanded. I wasn't sure if the question was for me. But as you shouldn’t ask a fairy for anything, I opened my mouth to answer.
“Be quiet, bébé,” Alain whispered in my ear.
Fury shot through me, and I pushed the vampire away, only to fall over sideways again, the cold concrete biting into my cheek.
“The enchanted one enchants deeply,” Aliath said from some distance away.
“You knew this, and yet you lowered your guard,” Georgia said evenly.
“My guard was not lowered,” Aliath replied with all the regality of a king. “The enchantment is merely more enticing than I had anticipated.”
“You fucked up,” Georgia snapped.
“Must I caution you again, my Hundr?”
&
nbsp; Georgia’s Dark Shadow growled. I heard Ediz’s hiss from somewhere behind the burnt bushes.
“You know what this means,” Georgia said, ignoring the shifter.
“It means she must return to Earth immediately,” Aliath replied, sounding more himself already.
I lay on the bench and watched butterflies, their words flowing over me like a cool stream.
“No,” Georgia argued. “It means you owe the daughter of the Champion a boon. You have broken covenant. Dishonoured your accord with the Prophesied. Brought down upon your head the anger of the Iunctio.”
“They do not need to know.”
“Like hell, they don’t,” Alain growled.
“Quiet, vampire,” the Dark Shadow said. “I alone negotiate on her behalf. I speak for the Enchanted. You speak nonsense.”
It’s not often you hear the Dark Shadow speak. It means Georgia had given herself over to her inner vampire. Usually, that happened when she had been weakened. I lay there wondering what had weakened my friend enough for the Dark Shadow to rise.
Alain stilled. He knew he was in the presence of a top predator. Even the King had stopped all motion and was watching my friend with keen, green eyes. Ediz was a prowling, slavering creature who dared not enter our arena. Self-preservation was strong in his kind, I thought as I watched the sun dip the moon in a tango-like dance.
I shook my head. The world blurred. The ribbons unravelled, pooling at the bottom of my stomach.
Blech. I was sure I was going to vomit.
“A boon,” Aliath said slowly, his eyes straying off Georgia and landing on me. “I grant you a boon, Enchanted. One boon for the honour you have given me this day. Choose wisely. It will not be offered again.”
“The little one needs food,” Georgia’s Dark Shadow demanded.
“The exchange must be completed.”
“Food first.”
“Boon first.”
The Dark Shadow growled. It sent skittering feet down my spine, making me shift my shoulders with unease, the weight of the Kilij registering as it dug into my thigh.
Blood Entwined (Blood Enchanted, Book 2): A Vampire Hunter Paranormal Romance Series Page 6