Blood Tithe (The Lost Cove Darklings Book 2)

by Bekah Harris

  The wheels of fate spin slowly round

  With time, all answers will be found.

  Lyric bit back a groan of frustration. Lochlan took her hand, squeezing for support. The Magi spoke in riddles, their answers and predictions always cryptic. She had forgotten the double-edged sword of the Magi. They always gave answers, but they were rarely clear. Sometimes, it took weeks to unravel their words. But right now, they didn’t have time to continue worrying about Magi Eirinn. The more pressing issue was Felicity’s safety and finding the truth behind the missing humans.

  Padraic must have come to the same conclusion.

  “We will worry about all of this later,” he said. “Right now, we need to make sure my brother is glamoured and has everything he needs to infiltrate Lost Cove.”

  Ardan leaned against the wall beside Ivy, looking unconcerned. He always wore an amused expression many Fae had deemed arrogant over the years—and they weren’t entirely wrong. But when called upon in times of need, Ardan was cunning as a fox and one of the deadliest Fae Lyric knew in either realm.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said, pushing upright. “But I have a few ideas.”

  With a rustling of fabric, the Magi drifted across the room, holding their cadaverous hands out toward Ardan.

  Chapter 17

  Voices swam through Felicity’s consciousness.

  She tried to blink, to open her eyes, but they were heavy. Waking up felt like swimming toward an impossible surface. And she was tired of swimming.

  “How could this have happened?” a voice said.

  Fhaescratch.

  “I don’t know, Father. I thought nothing went on in Lost Cove that you didn’t know about.”

  Felicity wanted to giggle at Tristen’s smartass tone, but she was trapped in her own body. In the distance, there was a repetitive rapping, like someone was using a hammer.

  “Nan must be back,” Tristen whispered.

  Footsteps thudded against the hard floor. Creaky hinges. Quick, light steps.

  “Felicity?” Nan’s voice was like a song in her ears. “Felicity, can you hear me?”

  She tried to respond, but her mouth was dry, her tongue swollen and clumsy.

  “Here, let’s try this.”

  Felicity could feel something close to her face, just before the strong minty scent of rosemary invaded her senses. With a sharp inhale, she snapped her eyes open. A weathered face blurred in front of her.

  Nan.

  “There, now, that’s more like it,” she said.

  Felicity continued to blink, her eyes scanning a large room: stone walls, heavy chandeliers, wall tapestries and sconces that reeked of a Poe story. Clearly, she was in the Laltog Castle. But it wasn’t Tristen’s room.

  “We were worried you were never going to wake up.”

  Felicity turned her head to see Tristen standing beside the bed, his father glowering down at her from a few feet behind him. Obviously, Fhaescratch was ready for some answers, but there was really nothing she could tell him that Tristen probably hadn’t already detailed. The memory shot through her like reopening a wound. The wards in the middle of the forest. The heat that had burned her as she tried to break them. The electric force that had pushed her through the air like a flightless bird. The hard landing that jarred every bone in her body.

  “Can you sit up?” Nan asked. “You cracked your head open, clumsy girl.”

  Felicity tried to laugh, but the force of it sent a surge of pain straight through her. She reached up, lightly touching the source of the pain. Beneath her hair, she felt the prickly point of stitches.

  “You’ll heal faster than any human would, but a split open head is a split open head, Seelie Fae or not,” she said. “Your Highness, I think she could use some help.”

  Then, Tristen’s arm was beneath Felicity’s back, his shoulder supporting her head. He lifted her upper body, as Nan adjusted the pillows behind her, and she was sitting up.

  “Um, thanks,” she said.

  “Now that the Mage is at ease and completely comfortable,” Fhaescratch began, his voice sarcastic, “can you please tell me why there were wards in the middle of my forest and, more importantly, why you didn’t break them.”

  Felicity glared at him. “Because obviously, I enjoy getting my ass handed to me by other people’s spells.” When he scrunched his nose, an extended fang slipped from beneath his lip, so she tagged on, “Your Majesty.”

  “Maybe you could tell us exactly what happened when you tried to break the wards.” Tristen stepped in front of Fhaescratch, breaking their stare down—one that Felicity was totally going to win. “I saw it happen, but I don’t know what you were doing or how you felt while it was happening.”

  So Felicity rehashed all the humiliating details. When she was finished, Fhaescratch growled, the feral sound sending chills up her spine.

  “What good is having a Seelie Fae Royal if simple wards can’t be broken?” he growled.

  Felicity raised her brows. “Perhaps if I hadn’t been cast out of Faerie by my own family, I would have full knowledge of the powerful magic I supposedly possess.”

  Asswipe.

  Did he think she wound up unconscious because she was secretly working against him or something? Her head throbbed, and she pressed her hand to her temple.

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Nan interrupted, “but maybe our anger would be better directed in trying to figure out who is behind the wards. If we know who created them, then we stand a better chance of breaking them.”

  “Just in case it is not obvious enough, I think we can all safely assume that bastard Conlan and Tristen’s charming fiancé have orchestrated this entire thing. They’re trying to overthrow me.”

  Duh.

  Felicity fought against the very essence of who she was not to roll her eyes. “I think Nan meant who—as in the Magical signature. As in, who actually cast the spell and strengthened the wards. And let me tell you, I know I’m not very experienced at this point, but those were the strongest wards I’ve ever encountered.”

  “How so?” Tristen asked. “Are you saying they weren’t created by the previous mage?”

  Felicity shook her head. “It’s hard to explain. But the wards I keep up and running every day have a sort of...imprint, if that makes sense. I can sense Moira Kelly in each working, like some sort of residual or spiritual energy gets left behind. Her energy is always light and clever. Usually, when I figure out how her spells work, I smile or laugh because it’s pretty creative. But this? Whoever set up these wards is totally different...unless Moira was possessed by the Devil and we didn’t know about it. It was something dark. Heavy. When I placed my hands against the boundary, it’s almost as if I was gripped by this hopeless feeling. And it was powerful. With the energy I was pumping into it, there’s no way it should have punted me backward like that. I mean, I’m not a football.”

  The more Felicity considered what happened, the less it made sense. Granted, she was a little late to the game, but she was a Seelie Royal, second in line to the throne of the entire Seelie Realm. There was no way a simple ward cast by a human mage should have rendered her unconscious for hours at a time.

  Fhaescratch stopped pacing, his face shadowed as if by some sort of dark realization. But whatever it was, he didn’t give voice to it.

  “Is there some way Kyla and Conlan could have gained access to a Seelie Fae of their own?” Tristen asked.

  “Indirectly, perhaps,” Fhaescratch said, his long nails scraping against the point of his chin. “I would know if they had left Lost Cove. I have purposely kept Kyla off the rotation for human recruitment so that she stays close. Elder Conlan would never demean himself by entering the human world.”

  “Okay,” Felicity said, thinking out loud. “We don’t know exactly who is behind the wards, but we can assume it’s not a human mage, and if it’s a Fae, it’s one far more powerful than me. What’s the only creature more powerful than a Seelie Royal? An Unseelie Royal?”
/>   But it was Nan who spoke, when Tristen and Fhaescratch stared at each other in silence.

  “The Magi,” she whispered. “The Magi are the only creatures with greater magic than Fae royals.”

  Once Fhaescratch had finally forgiven her for: A.) not being able to break the weird wards in the middle of the forest and B.) for bleeding all over the nice sheets while Nan stitched her head injury, he finally let them go. And she was more than happy to head back to the cottage while Fhaescratch and Tristen planned and plotted against their enemies. As they silently traveled back up the dirt path that led to the Mage’s cottage, Felicity spotted Queen Rowena in the distance, walking alongside her gorgeous Palomino. Felicity lifted her hand and waved, the Queen acknowledging her with a dip of her head.

  Queen Rowena saddled up every day for an evening ride through the pastures and wooded trails, yet Tristen told her the horse didn’t have a name.

  Who didn’t name their prized horse?

  Felicity had taken to calling the magnificent creature Monarch, since she found her to be more regal than the actual queen.

  “How’s your noggin?” Nan asked, pulling Felicity from her thoughts.

  “It hurts like a mother f—”

  “I get the point, Felicity. There’s no need to finish that sentence.”

  She finished it anyway. In her mind. She couldn’t just start the phrase and not finish it.

  “I agree that the Magi could be behind those wards,” Nan said quietly.

  She was unusually serious and quiet. Not herself at all.

  “How would a Magi end up in Lost Cove, though?” Felicity asked. “I thought they were, like, bound to stay in Seelie or something.”

  “They dwell beneath the Winter Court castle, deep beneath the earth in the Halls of Divinity,” Nan said. When they reached the cottage, Nan stepped forward and unlocked the door. “They spend their time communing with the ancestors and consulting the ancient texts. They are the protectors of the Seelie Fae and do the bidding of the royals.”

  Felicity stopped in the doorway, allowing the information to sink in. “So that would mean…”

  Before she could finish the thought, a clattering from the back of the cottage froze her in place. She met Nan’s eyes, raising her brows.

  Now what?

  She was still feeling like some tweaker coming down from an electric high, her body stiff with Zombie-like movements. The hum of the power continued to surge in her limbs, and she didn’t know how effective she would be in a fight. She signaled Nan to stay where she was and crept ahead, her movements awkward.

  Maybe it was just Raven, though she had been spending the bulk of her time outside of school with Dante Zamora. Not that Felicity could blame her. Maybe Dante had stopped by for a visit, and their sudden arrival had sent the two of them scrambling for their clothes.

  She smirked at the thought. She would give Raven hell about this until she died if she caught the two of them doing the naughty in their shared bedroom.

  When she crept into the hallway, the door was cracked. Felicity counted to three before bursting inside, armed with a snarky remark.

  It wasn’t Raven and Dante.

  The man who sat on the edge of her bed was the hottest creature she had ever beheld with the sun-kissed skin of a Greek god and the body of a gladiator. His golden waves swept all the way down to his nicely sculpted shoulders, which were covered by the tightest black T-shirt money could buy. He was way too old for her—at least in his thirties, but older guys could definitely be hot. And given the fact that he had broken into her house to perch on her bed, he was probably deadly. For all she knew, he was some perv who had just raided her underwear drawer. But while he appeared completely human, there was something extra about his energy.

  Gritting her teeth, Felicity gathered her magic in her chest until it warmed. Then, she felt it surge through her arms until her hands erupted into blue Seelie flames.

  “Cute trick,” he said.

  He gave her a lopsided smirk just before the smoky darkness of Unseelie magic drifted from him in an oppressive cloud. Felicity had never seen it before, but Nan had told her all about it during their daily lessons.

  The obviously glamoured Fae pressed his index finger to his full lips.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Felicity asked, ignoring him.

  “Your father sent me.”

  “Which one?”

  His smile widened, revealing a set of startling white teeth.

  “Both of them.”

  Felicity folded her arms. “Fine. Who are they, then?”

  “King Barrett of Seelie and Lochlan, consort of the former Queen Lyric.”

  Nan appeared behind her in the doorway.

  “Ardan?” she whispered.

  “Very good,” he said. “I knew there was a reason I always liked you.”

  Nan snorted. “Not even a glamour from the Elder Magi himself could fully disguise that arrogant smirk.” She gestured toward his Herculean physique. “A bit much, don’t you think? I didn’t realize the Magi took personal vanity into account when casting heavy glamours.”

  “But, Nan, I’ve always been so special,” he teased.

  Felicity stared at them, as Ardan rose and Nan crossed the floor to embrace him.

  “I’m here to help,” he said, “and to discover why humans are disappearing at such a rapid rate.”

  Felicity met Nan’s eyes.

  “Can we trust him?” she asked.

  Nan nodded.

  “Tell me everything,” he said. “I have a score to settle with your Laltog King, and I cannot wait to unleash my fury.”

  Felicity took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t betraying Tristen’s trust. But when Nan nudged her with an elbow, Felicity opened her mouth and spewed like she had the stomach flu.

  Chapter 18

  Raven’s eyes teared up with heat, rage, and dust, as the Laltog guard forced her against the stone wall and shackled her wrists above her head. Without a word, he turned from her, leaving her in the darkness.

  Focusing on the dirt floor beneath her, she took several deep breaths, trying to slow her heart rate, which had sprinted faster than her mom running from the cops. When the adrenaline finally started to wear off, she felt shaky all over, like she’d stuck a fork in an outlet or something. She blinked, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness.

  What the utter fuck had she just walked into?

  Militarized formations of Laltogs. Officers she had never seen in Lost Cove zapping newborn vampires with cattle prods. Kyla and Elder Conlan finding them. She shook her head, pissed as hell she hadn’t listened to Dante.

  And where was Dante?

  Whatever was happening to him was her fault.

  She pushed away the dark possibilities that took shape in her mind. She needed to focus. If she could survive long enough to get the hell out of here, she needed to store as much information as possible.

  She was in a massive barn, new from the looks of the wood. Unpainted. Metal roof. There were no barnyard smells—no cows, no horses, nothing. This barn was for the ranks of vamps she had spotted outside. No, the army of vamps. And this was their barracks. Raven scanned the area, trying to blink the shadows to life. From what she could tell, she was inside a small room with no windows, the only light slicing in through splinters in the separated wood. The inner walls were made of stone. The floor was dirt.

  Something moved in the corner.

  Her heart flipped in her chest.

  “Hello?” she whispered.

  “Raven?” a voice answered back.

  “Yes,” she said. “I can’t see you. Who is it?”

  “It’s Alice,” the girl said.

  “And Campbell,” another voice whispered.

  Alice and Campbell, the two humans who hadn’t shown up for school the last two days. Shit.

  “How did you get here?” Raven asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Shhh,” one of them whispered.

  Footsteps scraped ac
ross the ground outside, accompanied by the sound of something heavy being dragged.

  Dante. What if it’s Dante?

  And somehow, she knew it was. But it had been at least ten minutes. What had they done to him during that time?

  Raven held her breath, trying not to make a sound. Because if she allowed her darkest fears to manifest, she was going to scream.

  With the high-pitched squeak of new hinges, the door creaked open. The dragging sound continued, growing closer and closer until she spotted shadows moving.

  Chains rattled beside her. Dante’s bloody face flashed momentarily as his body passed through a slant of light. The guard leaned down, slapping his cheek.

  “Wake up, hero,” he said.

  Dante didn’t move. Fear wrapped its icy fingers around Raven’s throat when his head drooped to his chest.

  The guard laughed. “You’d better be tougher than that if you plan to survive what’s about to happen to you.”

  With that, he stalked away, leaving them in darkness. His words sent cold panic washing over her.

  “Is that Dante?” Campbell whispered.

  “Yes,” Raven said.

  She tried to reach out for him, but the chains caught, pain slicing through her wrists with the movement.

  “Dante?” Raven asked. “Can you hear me?”

  He responded with laughter.

  “Dante?”

  “I’m here,” he whispered.

  The chains rattled as he lifted his head, resting it against the hard wall.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “Pretty sure my nose is broken, but I’ve had worse.”

  And didn’t that statement just sum up both their lives?

  “Campbell and Alice are here, too,” she said.

  “Really? How did they get here?”

  Chains rattled in the darkness. “Campbell stopped by the house to walk me to school,” Alice said. “I had to go check the pasture gate before I left because my little sister left it open after she went to the barn to milk the goats. Two of them had gotten out and were headed toward the woods, so Campbell came with me to help catch them. We kept hearing this noise in the forest, like some kind of wild animal…”