Blood Tithe (The Lost Cove Darklings Book 2)

by Bekah Harris

  She was too much of a freak to remain in the human realm, but she couldn’t go back to Faerie. Yet she didn’t really belong in Lost Cove, either. Was there anywhere for her? God, she didn’t even have a home, not really.

  And Tristen?

  He was the icing on the cake.

  Sure, Felicity understood why they had to sneak around and why they couldn’t be together, even though he was the first guy she had ever really been interested in. She’d landed herself a job that demanded celibacy, and he was engaged to the extremely murdery daughter of the former Laltog King of Lost Cove. And what if Kyla was right? What if Tristen only felt what he seemed to feel because of her blood? What if she was meaningless to him apart from the cursed DNA that flowed through her veins?

  “You just can’t make this shit up,” she said, laughing. “Is that honest enough? Do I have enough of a baseline yet?”

  She had no clue who she was even talking to, but when she opened her eyes, the flame of the candle danced higher than before, and she felt surprisingly...lighter. Some of the tension between her shoulders had eased, and she felt more relaxed. Hell, maybe she’d actually get some sleep in a bit. But first, she had to try to connect with someone from the other side. The only deceased family member Felicity knew of was her mother, the Lady Slaine, who had been executed two days after Felicity was born. But she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to summon her. What did one say to the black-hearted traitor that had spawned her and then had been executed for it two days later?

  The whole thing was one ginormous catastrophe.

  Shrugging, Felicity took the ceremonial dagger Fhaescratch had given her for the Samhain revel she was expected to attend. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the point into her finger, hissing as she punctured the skin. When a droplet of blood blossomed on her skin, she turned her hand over and squeezed the wound. Blood dripped on the parchment in front of her. She had written a single word to declare her intent.

  Slaine. Daughter of the Dark Queen.

  When the blood had soaked into the paper, Felicity put her finger in her mouth to staunch the bleeding and lifted the paper to the flame, saying her mother’s name.

  “Lady Slaine, the Dark Queen’s daughter,

  Executed for those she slaughtered.

  Lady Slaine, the Dark Queen’s daughter,

  Executed for those she slaughtered.”

  She repeated the intention over and over again, setting the flaming parchment in a bowl and watching it until all that remained were ashes.

  Felicity waited several minutes without incident. Though she didn’t want to admit it, disappointment flooded through her, bringing with it the sting of tears. Fighting for control, she tossed the dagger across the table and wiped her eyes.

  “I didn’t want to talk to you anyway,” she muttered.

  Samhain was going to be a disaster.

  But just as she was getting ready to blow out the candles, the lights in the cottage flickered, the flames bursting before receding and going out altogether. Thin tendrils of smoke rose visibly from the wicks. Moonlight streamed in from the windows. Felicity scanned the room, her heart pounding when she realized she could see her breaths coming out in visible puffs. The temperature must have dropped twenty or thirty degrees.

  “Who’s there?” Felicity whispered.

  In front of the table, a mist seemed to rise from the floor, the air around it frigid. She pulled her sweater more tightly around her to fight against the sudden chill. Finally, a woman’s figure appeared and gradually took shape.

  Felicity felt her mouth fall open with a sharp intake of breath.

  It didn’t matter that she’d never met her before. There was no mistaking her mother.

  Slaine was slender with curves in all the right places, just like Felicity. Her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes shone like Christmas lights, despite the frosty sheen that covered her. It was as if someone had left her to freeze to death in the middle of a snowy field. Her skin was a bluish gray, and her lips were purple. Snowflakes and frost clung to her skin and hair, catching the light like diamonds. The woman’s eyes rolled until they focused on Felicity.

  “Slaine?” Felicity forced herself to speak, her voice shaking. “It’s Felicity. Your daughter.”

  “I know who you are,” her mother said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, reminding Felicity of the silence of death. “Why are you living among Laltogs?”

  “It’s kind of a long story.”

  This was her mother. But she had also betrayed her own family and her Court. Could Felicity even trust her? She had summoned her, but did she really want to know her? Evil as everyone claimed her mother to be, Slaine had still pleaded with Barrett to hide Felicity among humans. For all Felicity knew, she was only alive because her mother had begged Barrett to hide her. Torn, Felicity took a deep breath.

  “Basically, no one told me who I was, and King Fhaescratch tricked me into coming here. Now, he’s using me for my magic.”

  “Do not trust the Laltog King,” Slaine whispered. “He is loyal only to himself and would betray his own blood for power. The same can be said for Rowena.”

  Well, that wasn’t surprising, Felicity thought. “Wait, you know Queen Rowena?”

  “I have heard stories of her cruelty,” Slaine said, “though Fhaescratch is the more formidable enemy. He allied with my sister, Teagan, and welcomed her to his bed. He betrayed his own wife, Rowena, to lie with her before ripping my sister’s still beating heart from her chest. She is with me now in the Shadowlands.”

  “He cheated on the Queen?” Felicity blurted.

  “No one knew of Rowena then,” Slaine answered. “From the Shadowlands, we see all, and Teagan must face the betrayal over and over again in death. Fhaescratch returned to Rowena before fleeing to the Laltog nest he now rules. He gained the friendship of King Erroll before betraying him to take his kingdom. Fhaescratch is not to be trusted.”

  Damn. Felicity didn’t even know what to say about that.

  “You must always be two steps ahead of them,” her mother continued.

  Then, Slaine looked around, studying the cottage. Her eyes darted from corner to corner, window to window. She held out her hands.

  “There is a threat here. Something dark and forceful hiding beneath the surface, waiting until the time is right to strike. Be on your guard.”

  “What is it?” Felicity asked, leaning forward. “Is it in the forest?”

  Slaine met her eyes, and Felicity could see a sadness there that was almost palpable. Her mother cocked her head to the side, studying her. Then, she reached out, touching the birthmark on Felicity’s cheek, left there by her father’s kiss, and smiled. Her mother’s fingers were frigid, and her touch chilled Felicity to the bone.

  “You have my determination,” Slaine said, “but you have Barrett’s kindness. That’s good. Do not allow your happiness to be tainted by bitterness. My own thirst for vengeance led me to the NetherRealm.”

  Slaine pulled her hand away, warmth taking its place. A deep sadness settled into Felicity’s chest, making her want to cry.

  “Is it awful there?” she asked. “In the NetherRealm?”

  Slaine smiled, but there was no warmth or happiness in it. “I dwell in the Shadowlands. There’s darkness and crying, and I relive my death every moment of every day. But you are different. Not dark, like me. A soul like yours will be bound for the Summerlands.”

  “Well, I guess that clears up the heaven and hell debate,” Felicity mumbled.

  Then, remembering what an idiot she was being, she reached out, but her mother dodged her touch. Felicity pulled her hand back, stung by the avoidance.

  “I’m sorry,” Felicity said. “I’m sorry I never got a chance to know you.”

  “I am not sorry at all,” Slaine whispered. “It’s what I wanted. It’s what was best for you. Had I lived, I still would have sent you away so that you wouldn’t be poisoned by me as I was poisoned by my own mother
.”

  It was the total belief in her words that sent tears pricking Felicity’s eyes. Her mother truly believed she deserved her fate. She truly believed Felicity had been better off without her. She would have abandoned her, even if the situation had been different.

  “Heed my warning,” Slaine said. “There is darkness here, and it will rise up soon. Keep your wits about you, and trust no one but yourself.”

  With that, Slaine began to fade.

  “Wait,” Felicity pleaded. “Wait! I have so much more to ask you…”

  But she was gone, taking the cold with her.

  What remained of her burrowed into Felicity’s soul like an empty well, housing echoes and darkness that sent her collapsing onto the tabletop.

  How could a woman she’d never known leave her feeling so empty? So hopeless?

  Though Felicity had no name for what she was feeling, she curled onto her side and did something she rarely did. She cried. Heaving, sloppy sobs, complete with snot, puffy eyes, and red nose. She couldn’t really even explain why—just everything building up and spilling over.

  Too exhausted to move, she wept until she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 11

  Lyric never imagined she’d be standing at the end of a long table, about to deliver a briefing to the Unseelie Council in the dark castle’s war room.

  Yet here she was, ready to stand before leaders of the enemy realm that had split from the Seelies so long ago.

  Lochlan stood proudly beside her, waiting, as the Fae on King Padraic and Queen Juliet’s advisory council filed into the fully warded room to take their respective places at the table. She thought Padraic and Juliet would be the last to enter, but much to her surprise, her daughter, Queen Ivy of Winter, and Ardan, her Royal Consort and King, trailed behind them. Ivy gave Lyric a warm smile, and Ardan dipped his head toward her as they took their place behind the Unseelie Royals. Lyric smiled at Ardan, who she hadn’t seen since her actions to bring him back from the NetherRealm led to her banishment from the Seelie Realm seventeen years ago. He was as handsome as ever, resembling his brother Padraic with olive green skin, black hair, and dark eyes.

  Would King Barrett be joining them, as well?

  Lyric wasn’t certain how often Padraic and Juliet communicated with the Seelie King, especially given the insult he dealt Juliet when he had seen Felicity holding hands with Tristen, the Laltog Prince. Ivy was the one who most often spoke with Barrett, given their history as lovers and the continuity of their friendship. Would he involve himself in the issues surrounding Lost Cove, given his vow to Fhaescratch?

  When Padraic cleared his throat, the quiet murmuring among the advisors quieted, and all heads turned toward the Unseelie King.

  “Trusted advisors and fellow Unseelie Fae, we are gathered this morning to discuss the emerging details of the situation with Fhaescratch, the self-proclaimed King of Lost Cove, a realm hidden within the human world. As you know, I have appointed Lady Lyric and Lochlan to head the investigation into his activity, as they are the most familiar with the human realm. Queen Juliet will also give insight into the behaviors of the Laltogs and the humans.”

  The King gestured toward Lyric and sat down beside his wife. Lyric’s chest constricted, feeling somewhat out of her element in the midst of so many dark Fae, as was the nature of the Unseelies. It seemed a lifetime ago that she ruled Winter, that all of the Fae that now watched with such skepticism would have shaken in terror or stared in awe at her presence. Now, she was like a stranger in a strange land, an outsider who had long ago lost her seat at the table.

  Raising her chin, she took the news clippings Lochlan handed her and tacked them to the wall behind her.

  “As His Majesty informed you last week, Lochlan and I had been living among humans in a small town called Prosperity Glen for the last seventeen years. We made our home there until it was no longer safe for us there.”

  There was no need to rehash the details about Seth Erwin’s abduction, since Padraic had already apprised them of all of the events leading up to the discovery of King Fhaescratch. All except the part about Felicity’s involvement. No one else knew that for seventeen years, Lyric and Lochlan had raised the second heir of Seelie among humans. No one else knew Felicity even existed, and it was safer for everyone involved to keep it that way.

  “After discovering the hidden realm near our town and discovering the recruiting tactics Fhaescratch uses, King Padraic offered us sanctuary in Unseelie to investigate whether or not the Laltog King was being truthful. He stated that humans were recruited to his realm, only abducting them when they had an urgent or specific need. That alone is against Fae law and every moral code both realms are bound to respect. However, these news articles from the human media suggest he was not being honest about his criminal activities.”

  She went on to explain each missing persons case, detailing the commonalities among all the victims.

  “They are young, able-bodied humans of both genders,” she said. “They are athletic and strong, not to mention of a reproductive age.” Lyric glanced at her husband. “Lochlan has been going back through cold cases throughout the years, and the same pattern fits there, as well. I’ll let him explain.”

  Lochlan dipped his head at her, as was customary, before addressing the council. “I went back through the human news archives at the local university nearly a hundred years before Fhaescratch was ever in charge of Lost Cove. There was one missing person in each of the nearby towns approximately every two years with more in larger areas close to Lost Cove, like Asheville. This trend continued for decades...until three months ago.”

  “What changed in the last three months?” Queen Juliet asked.

  Ivy met Lyric’s eyes from behind the Unseelie Royals and gave an encouraging nod.

  “Fifteen young people have gone missing,” Lyric said. “All of them fit the same profile. And I haven’t checked in areas farther away. In my opinion, there are likely dozens more than we have discovered so far. The question is why Fhaescratch would be taking humans at a more frequent rate and a higher volume.”

  “You see, intelligence reports from the Seelie Realm suggest that Lost Cove was established just after the end of the first Darkling Uprising,” Lochlan added. “We can assume that Erroll, one of the leaders of that rebellion, brought the first humans to that realm in order to feed his coven. Over the years, those humans formed their own families and reproduced. Some of the families have probably been there for hundreds of years.”

  “And?” An Unseelie Councilman with unusually large ears pushed his hair out of his black eyes. “What does that have to do with what’s happening now?”

  Lyric stepped forward. “Don’t you see? There were maybe a hundred Laltogs in Lost Cove, if that. But there were hundreds of humans. There should be plenty of blood to feed the Laltogs. They have no need of recruiting more humans at such a high volume.”

  Heads nodded across the table.

  “So, what do you believe Fhaescratch is up to?” Padraic asked.

  Lyric’s heart pounded, and bile rose to her throat. What she was about to say had the power to turn the entire Fae world on its end.

  “I think they’re turning the humans.”

  Juliet gasped, baring her fangs. Padraic pounded his fist on the table to keep order among the frantic conversations that had erupted among the council.

  “To what end?” Padraic asked. “What could Fhaescratch possibly gain by turning humans?”

  “Please consider what I am about to say with an open mind,” Lyric said. “This is only a working theory. Fhaescratch never meant to turn Queen Juliet into a Laltog. He simply gave her his blood to heal injuries she had sustained. There have been rumors of humans being turned for centuries, but I don’t think Fhaescratch even knew he could turn a human into a Laltog, since the Fae cannot be turned. But when my niece Teagan attacked Juliet, dealing her fatal injuries, she still had Laltog blood in her system. To our knowledge, she is one of the first humans to b
e turned. But we could be wrong. Human vampire legends have been around for centuries. Have those legends merely evolved from sightings of Laltogs, or did Erroll and other Laltogs in the human realm figure this out long ago? At any rate, now that Fhaescratch knows it’s possible to turn humans, perhaps he is going to raise an army of fledglings and march against Faerie.”

  Lyric paced back and forth in front of the closed door to the Unseelie War Room. What she had suggested was unthinkable, but wasn’t doing the unthinkable how most usurpers gained the upper hand?

  “Be still, my love.”

  Lochlan placed both hands on Lyric’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss her. Warmth pooled in her belly and spread outward. Even after all these years, he could reduce her to a puddle with only a kiss.

  “In my experience, Fae leaders don’t want to hear the truth,” she said, after he pulled away. “If they don’t see it, and it isn’t affecting them immediately, nothing happens.”

  “Yet the days of rulers like Endellion are over,” Lochlan said, leading her to a padded bench. “You made certain of that.”

  “And they still banished me.”

  Lyric could hear the bitterness in her words, but she was bitter. She had done the entire Faerie world a favor by turning Endellion’s own vow against her, and still, the Seelie Elders had banished her from her own court where she had ruled peacefully for centuries until Ivy had taken over. While she would never regret raising Felicity, she had missed seventeen years of Ivy’s life. She couldn’t help but be bitter.