Blood

by Michelle Connor

  Danu, help us. Someone trapped fire elementals in them.

  Tongues of flames licked the inside of the sphere as though the fire elemental hunted for a weakness in the design of its prison. Her fingers itched to set the creature free, but although trouble loved her, she didn't return the sentiment, and she was wary to be the cause of any while travelling with the Wild Hunt. Red didn't want someone setting them onto her. She'd had enough upheaval the last two days to last an eternity. What damage would angry fire elementals cause if someone let them loose? She fought against her instinct to help the poor creatures.

  Maybe I'll come back later.

  More exhausted than before, she squeezed into the small gap separating her brothers as they spoke in hushed tones. The warmth of Brogue's and Aelfric's arms brushed against hers. Just being cocooned between them lifted the heaviness from her shoulders, and Red stood a brownie's head taller. Her family had always been her strength, and she hated the fact she would leave her brothers soon, but it was the only option left to live her life how she wished. She didn't even want to contemplate how angry her father must have been when he discovered her missing. She rubbed her palm over her chest, above her hurting heart, as her eyes stung with unshed tears.

  In an attempt to pull herself from the heavy thoughts scrambling around her mind, she said to her brothers, "Do you know where the Lord of the Wild Hunt is leading us?"

  "Hopefully, somewhere with a comfy bed," mumbled Brogue.

  "And food." Aelfric rubbed his belly.

  "I can second that." Her stomach grumbled in agreement.

  The stench of smoke permeated the air and intermingled with the aroma of cooked meat, thyme, cinnamon, and stewed apples. A weird combination, but if left to her own devices, she'd follow the enticing smells instead of The Slaugh and other warriors.

  Her brothers guided her past a row of houses and down another winding pathway. No two buildings were the same. A towering crystal home with cloudy, smooth walls sat beside a deep-purple toadstool, which stood at knee height with a round doorway carved into its thick stem. Ash drifted down from chimneys before laying thickly on the ground, then magically vanishing. She raised her eyebrows.

  I bet Primrose wished she'd have known that spell for keeping my room clean.

  Smoothing her fingers over the pommel of her bone dagger, Red took in the rest of her new surroundings. She didn't know what to look at first, and tried not to gawk and give her lack of experience away. The colours of everything were more vibrant than what she was used to back on Terra. The greenest of grass edged the road—not one blade out of place, as if untouched by the tread of feet.

  The next road was lined with Rowan trees, their scarlet berries hanging like drops of blood among their leaves. On the street corner, under the shade of a thick canopy of branches, loitered a far darrig. He had a burlap sack thrown over a knobby shoulder. His skinny, hairless tail swished from side to side. A red hat slanted on his head, cast a shadow across his rat-like face, but she could still make out his twitching whiskers. As his head turned in The Slaugh's direction, the far darrig hissed, and dropped his sack. A meowing ginger kitten clawed free from the burlap and darted up a tree. The far darrig frantically turned his red cloak inside out before running away.

  Red pointed at the hastily retreating back. "What in Holy Danu was that all about?"

  Aelfric's shoulders shook as he chuckled. "Just another idiot. Some fae are too superstitious. They think if they turn their clothes inside out, The Slaugh won't be able to see them."

  Brogue shook his head. "It's a load of phooka shite, of course, but you can't teach stupid."

  "That's what I say about Aelfric all the time," she said to Brogue. Before Aelfric could retaliate with his fist, she jumped out of his way and kept walking, whistling a playful tune under her breath. No doubt, she'd pay for that comment later.

  The street opened up into a central square bustling with activity. Fae of all kinds, with a rainbow array of skin and hair colours, hurried every which way. The shades ranged from the brightest of yellows to the deepest of blues. Swarms of pixies flitted between the crowd, their high-pitched giggles carrying on the wind. A brave or stupid pixie with a tiny sword strapped to his back pickpocketed something from a Sidth with indigo hair before flying away with something shiny grasped in a tiny fist. Red tightened her grip on her bag and pulled it to her chest.

  Her brothers stopped outside the biggest hawthorn tree she'd ever seen. The tree was littered with white blossom and a glowing sign, which read 'THE QUEEN'S HEAD,' hung nailed into the trunk.

  Her eyes widened in awe. "This is where we're staying?"

  "Wait until you see inside, Sis," said Brogue as he ruffled her hair.

  She batted his arm away and stepped through the doorway, the warmth from her brothers a comfort at her back. Their smoky scents, mixed with the rusty smell of old blood wafting from their caps, reminded her of home. For the first time, she felt an ache in her gut for leaving it as she had. I'm sorry, father.

  Red shook the thought from her head, and her mouth hung open in astonishment at the room she found herself in. She so wasn't on Terra anymore. More fire elementals trapped in witch-glass lit up the inside of the tree, which was at least ten times the size it appeared on the outside. Circling the Inn's reception desk, a never-ending, spiral staircase made from blooming wisteria vines led to higher levels and made her knees weak.

  A trembling brownie with wide eyes sat behind a reception desk. "Hello, how can I help you?" he said with a practised politeness, despite his obvious terror.

  "Enough rooms for us all." Gwynn pointed over his shoulder.

  The brownie gulped and reached behind him for the room keys. "Please enjoy your stay at The Queen's Head."

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  The suite was on the second floor, a blessing from Danu. Red's aching legs wouldn't have carried her up another flight of steps. She unlocked the door. Her brothers marched into the room, checking for threats. She didn't have the breath to offer help. Not that they'd have let her.

  She staggered across the room. Moonlight shone through a round window, shimmered over a rug of daisies sprawled across the floor, and washed the room in a silvery glow. A floral, woodsy scent washed over her as she trampled the flowers; a balm to her soul and a reminder of the forest back home. She dropped her bag beside the moss bed, which buttered up against the wall. She shucked her cloak. Yanked the crusted cap from her head, and ripped a few hairs from her scalp. Wincing, she threw the cap on the unusual bedside table that sprouted up from the floor. The shrub's uppermost branches and leaves wove together to create a flat surface. Unstrapping her dagger sheaves, she placed them down.

  Exhausted, she sank onto the bed's mushroom-latticed mattress. The instant comfort reminded her of her father's hugs. She blinked away tears. Red would have given anything for her father to be able to hold her in his arms. Heavy-hearted, she unlaced her boots and let them thud to the floor. Lying back, she untied her hair and ran both hands through the damp strands, fingers catching in knots. A tap turned on in the bathroom. Someone knocked on the door. I should get that. Her eyes fluttered shut. Soon. Another knock. She cursed.

  "Don't worry, Sis." Brogue stalked out of the bathroom. "Stay right where you are. I'll get it."

  A smile tugged at her lips. "You do that."

  He sauntered across the room and yanked open the door. "Finally," he grumbled, stepping to the side.

  Two air sylphs floated into the room, carrying food trays. The aroma of spices filled the room. Red sat up, her stomach cramping. One air sylph hovered next to the bed, passing Red a steaming bowl of soup and chunk of bread. The other moved between her brothers and handed out more food.

  Manners lost to hunger; she shovelled the broth into her mouth. On her third spoonful, she chewed on something which squeaked between her grinding teeth. It had a texture similar to a mushroom, and her taste buds burst with a horrid, silky earthiness she knew from childhood. She s
wallowed the snail and dropped the spoon in the steaming bowl of grey sludge nestled between her crossed legs. The metallic handle clinked against the ceramic lip. Hot liquid sloshed onto the back of her hand. She grimaced at the burning sting and wiped her skin clean on her mud-stiffened trouser leg. "Which one of you numbskulls ordered the snail soup? "

  "What's wrong with it?" mumbled Brogue between slurping mouthfuls. "Although I prefer my river slimes drenched in garlic butter, the soup isn't half-bad."

  Aelfric leaned forward in the wicker chair, which his large frame dwarfed. The legs squeaked with his shifted weight. Branches tapped against the window's glass pane, their shade dappled his face in shadows. He pointed his spoon at Brogue. "That's because you have the palate of a gnat... and they eat phooka shit." Leaning back, he used a chunk of bread to sponge up the last dregs of his meal, and popped it in his mouth.

  Red chuckled and pointed at Aelfric's splattered chin. "Does that mean you enjoy eating phooka shit too?" She waved a hand in the air. "Don't answer that." Rocking back against the twig headboard, she rubbed a palm across both eyes. "Right, now, I'd give anything for some of cook's lumpy porridge."

  "Will this do instead?" Brogue grinned and reached behind his back before presenting her with a sponge cake. Someone had placed it on a white porcelain plate and drizzled the top with chocolate sauce. "Did you think we'd forgot what day it is? We might not have Terra's moon to know the time of the month, but we can count. Happy birthday, Sis."

  Red settled the bowl on the shrub bedside table, her face and heart warmed as much as its contents. She crawled off the bed, approached Brogue, careful to avoid knocking the plate out of his hand, and pecked his bristled cheek. The day escaped her mind with all their misadventures, but she wouldn't let them know that. "Thank you," she choked around the lump in her throat.

  "You're welcome."

  Aelfric scooped her away from Brogue, enveloped her in strong arms, and kissed the top of her head. "Happy birthday, Trouble. Welcome to adulthood."

  Her words muffled against Aelfric's chest. "I can't breathe."

  "Come on. Breathing is overrated." He squeezed her tighter, laughing when she smacked him on the back. Placing her back on the floor, he retreated a step and chucked her under the chin. "Time for us to head to our room. Enjoy the cake, then get some rest. We have got a busy day hunting rebels tomorrow."

  "Lock the door behind us," Brogue ordered as they left.

  Red turned the key. The bolts clicked into place. Birdsong drifted through the window and shattered the lonely silence which had settled over the room. She eyed the cake, then her bag. The last few days events settled over her aching body and glued both her feet to the floor. Even the motivation to clean properly and get into fresh smelling clothes did nothing to make her legs move. Eyelids heavy, she pressed her shoulders against the door and thumped the back of her head against the wood.

  Several sets of footsteps, paw-soft, drifted from the hallway. They drew closer. A floorboard complained when whoever wandered the Inn's corridor stopped outside Red's room. Maybe one of her brothers forgot something? With a knot in her throat, she listened. Like echoes blowing in a breeze, indistinguishable voices floated under the door. She didn't know what they said but heard enough to know it wasn't Brogue or Aelfric.

  Magic electrified the air. It shivered across her neck and down her arms. Goosebumps followed, raising the fine hairs. The lock clicked. Adrenaline flooded her tired limbs. She lurched across the room, reaching for the pair of daggers left discarded on the bedside table beside her cap. She'd been careless. Her father's words rattled in her mind, "Never let your guard down. When you do, that's when your enemies turn you into worm fodder." Red's legs gave out, and she stumbled into a bedpost. The sharp pain was distant as she righted herself. Grabbing her daggers, solidness filled both palms, the familiarity steadying. She spun around. Muscle memory took over as she transitioned into a fighting stance, her iron blade leading out front, her bone in a reverse grip.

  As tense as a strung bow, she waited, gaze cast towards the entranceway. The handle wrenched down. The door smashed against the wall, the bang resounded around the room. Eerily, the echo mimicked her pounding heart.

  Clad in the hallway's darkness, the outline of a figure stood in the doorway. At his side, the glowing ruby eyes of a cù-sìth hovered waist-high. The large beast let out a deep-throated growl. Red's innards liquified.

  I've got this.

  She slowed her breath, holding position. Fog surged into the room like a living thing. It snaked into every nook and cranny. Visibility vanished. The knot lodged in her windpipe plunged to the pit of her stomach. Floorboards groaned. Whirling around, she slashed weapons blindly.

  I can't see, but I'll go down swinging.

  A chuckle filled the air. She snapped her arm out, stabbing at emtyness, her quench for blood unsatisfied.

  To her right, claws clacked on the floor, scratching on the wood, followed by the snuffing of a canine nose. She kicked her leg at where the sound originated. Nothing.

  She clenched her jaw. "Are you so scared of a slip of a fae girl, you need the advantage of making her blind?"

  "Tut. Tut. No, need for insults," said a familiar voice.

  Her attacker was the fae from the forest; she'd let escape. She cursed under her breath. This time he had to know what she was capable of with iron and magic. He'd have polished his strategy like she did her blades after a battle.

  Red closed her eyes, listening, waiting. Something slithered up her nose and slipped past her lips. She snapped her eyes open and mouth shut. She coughed, choking on the fog her enemy magically forced into her oesophagus. Someone snapped something smooth and cool around her wrists. Emptiness crowded the space in her gut, where her magic should be.

  Hoarfrost-cold smothered her chest. "What have you done to me?"

  "Don't worry; we won't hurt you. We want to make sure you behave. We need a chat or two."

  As if siphoned into a portal, the fog swirled into a bulging mass and vanished with a pop. Vision clear at last, her gaze snagged on the iron shackles circling her wrists. She shifted her glance to the white-haired fae, and the moss-green hound sat with his tongue lolling over his sharp teeth and foam dripping from his chin. Magic buzzed in the air as a dazzling white light surrounded the cù-sìth and blinded her. When she could see again, Gwynn, The Lord of the Wild Hunt towered over her.

  Red inhaled a sharp breath, her brows knitting into a frown.

  With a jerk, Gwynn pulled down the hood to his cloak, and revealed his battle-weary face. Scars aside, he was a vision of sharp lines and a square jaw. "Hello, Princess Neve. Welcome to the Rebellion." His husky tone stole her breath as he captured her with his steely gaze.

  A hulking figure peeled away from the shadows in the entranceway. Moonlight shone on a blood-soaked cap. Hope filled Red with relief. Her brothers had heard the noise and had come to her rescue. Fabien took one step into the room. His skin puckered as he smiled, his eyes lit with cruelty. Her hope for rescue crumbled. He turned around and slipped out of sight. His footsteps faded as he left her captured. She chuckled, unable to stop herself. Her whole body shook. She knew their feud would come back to bite her in the arse, but she never thought a fellow redcap would leave another with an enemy.

  "We broke the Summer Princess, boss."

  Her a princess? They had the wrong fae. Who'd leave royalty in the woods to die? She bent over at the waist, struggling to breathe as more laughter slipped past her lips. Even to her, the sound was hysterical.

  "I had to leave home. Didn't I? Stupid. So, stupid."

  "That wasn't your home," said Gwynn, his tone self-assured.

  The white-haired fae blew pixie dust in her face. Darkness claimed her.

  End of Part One

  Michelle Connor hails from Grimsby, England. She had her first poems published when she was fifteen. She now writes fantasy fiction with heart.

  Her works include Hers to Save, a coming of age, fantasy seri
es, and Where Ravens Soar, the first book in the Nine World Protection Agency series.

  She likes history, old castles, and loves to read about legends and old religions. This love comes across in the tales and magic she weaves with her words.

  Also by Michelle Connor

  Hers to Save Series

  The Bound

  The Deceived

  The Freed

  Hers To Save: Complete Series

  Nine World Protection Agency Series

  Where Ravens Soar

  Short Stories

  The Ghost of Grym