Blood

by Michelle Connor

  Blood - Part One

  The Fae Chronicles Book One

  Michelle Connor

  Copyright © 2019 by Michelle Connor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  Also by Michelle Connor

  Chapter One

  Using her tunic's sleeve, Red wiped her dagger clean until the iron gleamed under the early morning sunlight. The stench of emptied bowels and the sickly sweet scent of blood filled the clearing. The rancid smell was so thick that she could taste it, and she held back the urge to vomit. She sheathed her blade, stepped over the entrails sprawled across a bed of crumpled daisies, and knelt on the grass beside two dead imps. The cold air sunk its teeth into her skin, whilst dew and other undesirable fluids soaked her trousers.

  Her chest tightened. "Will they ever learn?" she whispered, her voice cracked and hollow.

  "What would be the fun in that?" her brother Aelfric said as he kicked the nearest imp's grey leg. "Though these two didn't put up much of a fight."

  The high-pitched, disappointed tone of his voice grated against Red's nerves. She cringed and snatched the cap from her head, causing chips of dried blood to snowfall onto her lap. It was the redcaps' post-battle ritual to soak their caps in the blood of their enemies. The act alone, even before the spectacle of blood running down their faces, could strike fear in the staunchest foe. She leaned forward and pressed hers to the gaping wound in the imp's neck, before slapping it back on her head.

  Blood streamed down her face, congealed on her eyelashes, and painted her vision scarlet. Remorse pierced her chest. "I'm sorry," she choked as she held back tears, her breath fogging the air.

  Cold pricked at her skin like a winter's kiss, and her ice magic cocooned the deceased in frost. With a palm as icy as death, she smoothed both the imps' eyelids closed, shutting out the sight of cloudy, amethyst pupils.

  Red's other hand tingled. Electricity crackled through frigid air. The ground trembled. Several vines broke the soil's surface. They wrapped around the flayed imps' bodies that so closely resembled hers, if not half the size, and pulled the imps into the earth's dark embrace. "Danu, the mother goddess," whispered Red. "Please, take them into your loving arms."

  "You're too soft-hearted," muttered Aelfric as he tapped a sword against his thigh. "It'll get you killed one of these days."

  "So you've said before. But the imps' only wrongdoing was trespassing." She shook her head. "I wasn't going to leave them for the crows."

  Aelfric sighed. "You know father will punish you, if he finds out you've been using your magic again?"

  "I know." Red waved her hand through the air, and where each spilt drop of blood had fed the soil, a green shoot sprouted, shivering and blooming into a garnet-red rose.

  She wiped a sleeve across both eyes, smearing the dampness across her face before dragging herself onto sore feet. "Come on. Our watch is over. Let's head back."

  Congealing blood from Aelfric's kill dripped from his cap and ran in thick globs down his grey-toned face. He smiled before licking the crimson fluid from his lips. "Sure. I'm starving."

  She curled her lips in disgust, turned away, and marched towards home. Her brother followed close behind as she crossed the field and skirted around the edge of a dense forest. Red didn't see her brother as the other redcaps did, a tall, strong warrior with a physique made for battle. She noticed his sly smile, and the laugh lines which cut across his wide forehead and crinkled the corner of his twinkling blue eyes. He was a pain, but he was hers, just like Brogue her other brother.

  She stepped under a low-hanging branch as she covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. Bone tired, her leg muscles ached, and her limbs trembled from patrolling the perimeter of their land throughout the night. She always felt like her head was full of the cook's thick porridge following a night watch.

  Hemmed in on either side by bushes covered in poisonous spines, Red traipsed down the muddy path leading to her home. The sun glared down upon her abode, which sat in a clearing surrounded by massive chestnut trees. Branches swayed in the breeze, casting shadows across the ground. Nature had tried its hardest to take back the land upon which the stone structure rested. Weeds and wildflowers added a splash of colour and beauty where none should exist.

  When she was close enough to spot the watcher on duty, she shaded her eyes. Huge wooden doors, which once stood guard against intruders, were rotten and hung from rusty hinges. Crumbled and forlorn, grey stones, weathered by countless years, made up the building's walls and told their own tales of the ravages of time.

  Her gaze trailed up the scarred rocks, and creeping ivy, and moved to the arrow slits cast in darkness, and scattered across the ancient castle's facade. Empty. She squinted her eyes and searched again. Sunlight glinted off metal. She smiled. "Watcher. Two down and three across from the left."

  Aelfric shook his head. "Brownie's arse. How do you always beat me?"

  Red brushed dust from her shoulder while her smile transformed into a smirk. "Easy, I'm better than you." She elbowed her brother aside and stepped into the barren building.

  Evenly spaced torches secured on the walls shattered the darkness of the entrance hall and threw shadows across the cracked stone floor. As Red and her brother's footsteps echoed off the moss-covered walls, the cold, musty air wrapped around her like a damp cloak.

  When they reached an arched doorway, she left her brother behind, jogged down a hallway to the right, and up a narrow spiral staircase, swiping at the cobwebs that clung to the walls. Wooden boards creaked, and a lavender scent washed over Red as she entered her bedroom. Her shoulders relaxed.

  "Good day, my little cuckoo," the maid Primrose said. A pinafore, made from an old hessian sack draped the brownie's three-foot frame, stretched over her bulging belly and dragged on the floor. She hurried around the room with a rag clutched in her hairy hand, cleaning up the drops of blood left in Red's wake. "Shall I draw you a bath?"

  Red picked at the crimson crescents under her chipped fingernails. "Yes. I'm very much in need of one."

  Primrose scuttered to the doorway then glanced over her shoulder. She wiped away strands of shaggy, nut-brown hair, slicked to her forehead. "It won't be long."

  Red turned away, hiding her shame, as her eyes stung with suppressed tears. Candles burnt to tallow snubs added a warm glow to her bedroom, and the fire blazing in the hearth chased away the chill which filled her to the marrow. Sighing, she knelt on the cold, tiled floor. She shivered, and moved the sheet to the side. While reaching under the bed, she swiped her hand from one side to the other. Something sharp pricked her finger.

  Got it.

  She snatched the small mirror sliver she kept there and lifted it in front of her face. Staring back at her was a stranger. She ripped the cap from her head and threw the offending item into the room's far corner. Skin as white as the Winter Court peeked between streaks of blood. It glowed as if carved from a piece of the moon, delicate and easily bruised.

  Red ran her finger over the pointy tip of one ear.

  I wish they were round like the other redcaps'.

  She bared her teeth.

  Even those are blunt instead of needle-like.

  She feathered a finger over a dark gouge which ran across her right cheek. Her two brothers thought the scar transformed her face to
look fierce, but it just made her uglier. As she was his only daughter, her father said he'd gone easy on her when he caught her using magic to protect herself after he forbade it.

  I'd hate Father to punish me when he wasn't going easy.

  Red stuffed the looking glass back under her bed and trudged to the oak dresser under the sole window. She plucked a cloth from a ceramic bowl and scrubbed her face. Freezing water dribbled down her cheeks and dripped off her chin with her tears. She tried to wipe away every trace of her dark deeds until her skin was raw.

  I can clean my skin. What about my soul? Will I ever be able to wipe away its smothering black stains?

  Primrose's small hand halted her frantic movements. Red winced. She hadn't even heard her maid come back in the room.

  Sloppy. Father taught me better.

  "Your bath is run, Mistress," Primrose said, and led Red to a tin tub filled with steaming water.

  The brownie helped her strip out from her soiled clothes and held her hand as she slipped into the bath's warmth. Red took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and sank to the bottom. Submerged, her tears mingled with the pink-tinted bathwater.

  I love my family with all my heart, but I need to leave while I'm still me.

  When she could no longer hold her breath, soap-tasting water filled her nose and mouth, and she spluttered to the surface. The blood-stained clothes lay in a heap on the floor in a silent accusation. Her lips quivered.

  If it isn't already too late.

  Chapter Two

  Banter and rowdy laughter boomed from the other side of the wall. Red took a deep breath before pushing open a pair of heavy oak doors embedded with metal studs. The creaking hinges announced her arrival. A meaty aroma filled the room, followed by silence, as three dozen heads turned her way.

  Fabien, a warrior ten winters her senior, glared from his seat at the other end of the room. The bruise under his left eye had lightened from a deep purple to the yellow of autumn leaves. She'd managed a decent hit to his face during their last training session.

  Standing tall, she smirked, and stared at a frayed tapestry of a battle scene that hung on the far wall. Tiny stitches made up the image of men mounted on horses, carrying shields and spears. Only a hint at their original browns, blues, and reds remained.

  She counted to five, and conversations resumed. With her head high, she marched towards the other side of the dining room and took a seat between Aelfric and Brogue. "Hey, you two."

  "Hey," they each mumbled between bites. They were so much alike. If it wasn't for Brogue's once-broken nose and paler blue eyes, most wouldn't be able to tell them apart.

  She filled a plate with venison and dandelions from platters laid out on the oak table, and poured the last dregs of purple wine into her goblet. "I see you two left some food for me today. You both eat like you're bloody Jack-in-Irons and have their giant-sized stomachs."

  "No, just giant-sized...muscles." Aelfric flexed his arms, his rough grey skin stretching over the sinew. "And we thought we'd be nice today as we don't want you to waste away."

  "Yup. If you were any smaller, Sis, people might mistake you for a brownie, or worse, a pixie." Brogue puffed his cheeks and blew a blast of air in her direction. "A gust of wind could blow you away."

  "Or perhaps the nettles I left in your beds did the trick in teaching you both a lesson after the last time you ate everything." Red stuffed her mouth and hummed as an earthy flavour coated her tongue. She washed it down with a gulp of blackberry wine.

  Brogue elbowed her, sending her drink splashing over her chin and fingers. She glared. Wide-eyed, he gave her a mischievous smile full of razor-sharp teeth.

  Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She spun around. Aelfric stabbed a fork into her meat and dragged it towards his plate.

  Arm flashing forward, she pierced the back of his hand. "That's mine!"

  Aelfric yelped. Blood bloomed around the fork's tines and dribbled onto the table. While he pulled the fork free, she stamped on Brogue's foot.

  "Ouch! What did you do that for?" he shouted, his forehead furrowed.

  "For being the distraction." She shook her head and pointed between the brothers. "I'm not as dumb as you two."

  Brogue fluttered his eyelashes. "Would you believe me if I said he made me do it?"

  "Oi!" said Aelfric, wrapping a torn piece of shirt around his hand.

  "Yes." She clipped Brogue around the ear. "Mother dropped you on your head too many times as a child. Anything's possible."

  Brogue splayed his hands over his heart. "That's just cruel."

  "What else are little sisters for?" She grinned and crunched on bitter dandelion stems.

  "Target practice," her brothers said in unison. They bumped fists.

  "Funny. Where's father?"

  Brogue shrugged. "A messenger came from the queen. She's calling for a Wild Hunt."

  "Again?" Red dropped her fork on the table. "Do you think I'll be able to take part this time?"

  It might be my chance to discover the world beyond our borders.

  "I doubt it," said Aelfric under his breath.

  Brogue stared at the wall.

  They knew something she didn't. Secrets. Her family was bursting with them. She'd given up trying to figure out what they were moons ago.

  She shook her head. "But I turn eighteen soon, and I've never left our land. By the time you two were my age, you'd travelled to three of the four courts. How's that fair?"

  "Haven't you learned by now?" Aelfric said. "Nothing is."

  "It doesn't mean I can't dream," she replied as she got up and headed towards her father's office.

  Red leaned against the hallway wall and tapped her foot. How much longer could her father converse with his advisor? Meanwhile, her brothers and the other warriors gathered downstairs. They would leave without her if she didn't get her father's permission soon.

  Surely, he can't refuse me this time. I turn eighteen after the next full moon.

  Out the window, darkness veiled the sky. The three-quarter moon hung low, and stars gleamed as if scattered pixie dust. Her father's door creaked open, and she spun around. A redcap, bent with age, shuffled into the hallway and nodded. Balfour was the oldest of their kind, and as ancient as the forest around the castle. He ambled along the corridor, slipping out of sight.

  Here goes nothing.

  She squared her shoulders, opened the door, stepped through dust motes suspended in the air, and marched into the gloomy room. Her father sat behind a huge mahogany desk, eyebrows raised, and ink-stained fingers steepled under his chin. Her gaze sought out his dark grey eyes.

  "No." He shook his head, his black hair sweeping his tunic's collar.

  "But I have asked nothing yet."

  "The queen has called for a Wild Hunt." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You think I don't know why you have sought me out?"

  She took a step forward. "Please, father."

  "Maybe next time."

  "But I turn–"

  "I said 'no!'"

  His words echoed around the room. She jumped back, her eyes widening.

  "Get some rest while you can. We'll need you for extra patrols until the others return." He dipped his quill in a pot of crimson ink and scratched words onto cream parchment.

  "Good night, Father." Red's eyes stung with unshed tears. She halted at the door, opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. Snapping her mouth shut, she stormed out the room. Once out of sight, her shoulders slouched and her head dropped to her chest.

  Why does he keep doing this? This isn't fair.

  She slunk down the hallway. The castle was silent.

  Pixie tits. They've left.

  Red ran all the way to her chambers and perched on the end of the bed, the springs creaking in protest. She sat there, catching her breath. Her thoughts were a twisted web she tried to untangle as the emptiness in her gut spread to the rest of her body.

  He is never going to let me leave
.

  A green splash in the room's corner caught her eye. A plant with white blooms grew from a crack in the stone.

  Even so far away from the earth's touch, something beautiful can sprout. Maybe I can too, if I get away from here.

  She strode to her wardrobe, seized a bag from the floor and stuffed it with clothes and extra weapons before throwing a raven-black cloak around her shoulders.

  Sorry, Father. I love you, but I can't stay here anymore.

  On silent feet, she slipped out of the castle. A watcher cloaked in moonlight trooped past the end of the pathway. Red huddled against the wall, hyperventilating. With each heavy breath, her cheek scraped against the rough stone. The watcher stopped and searched the night. She covered her mouth with a sweaty palm. Please, Danu, keep his sight from piercing the shadows. His eyes skimmed over her hiding place. He pulled a strip of dried meat out of his pocket, cloth rustling, and continued on his patrol.

  Thank Goddess.

  Once the coast was clear, she jogged in the opposite direction. She skirted around the edge of the small meadow, glancing at the dozens of roses scattered across the field. Each marked one of her kills. She rubbed her aching chest and swallowed the lump wedged in her throat.

  Moonlight shone on the path, making the ground shimmer. A damp earthy scent filled her lungs. It had rained earlier, and she loved the fresh smells after a storm. It also made the warriors easier to track, squishing their boot's impressions into the mud. She smiled.

  At the other end of the field, the tracks headed towards Underhill Forest. Squawking, crows burst from the treetops. Red inhaled the night's chill through clenched teeth, hugged her torso, and tread into the trees' deep shade. The forest enveloped her, and the darkness had its own weight and teeth.

  She ducked under a low-hanging branch. A shroud of leaves blocked most of the light, but the occasional moonbeam pierced the dense foliage. Her eyes darted from one silhouetted tree to another before returning to the trail. The warriors' bootprints vanished.