Ruled by Tainted Blood

by Michael J Allen

  “Sir?” Manda said. “Mister Snyder is on his way down.”

  I sucked in breath that seared its way into my lungs. I shot my head side to side then whirled to the woman behind the counter. “Where did that man go?”

  “Jimmy? He went back over to his station.”

  “No, the man who placed a hand on me.”

  She frowned, glancing around. “I’m sorry, sir. I must have missed him while contacting Mister Snyder.” A mischievous grin lit her face. “I’d be happy to make it up to you. Anything you want...day or night.”

  “I would sooner rut with a diseased animal.” Anger flared in my chest, but was snuffed out when her pain surged into me.

  I’d never been connected to a mortal in that way. My insides—already ravaged raw by the otherworldly experience—writhed with her tumultuous emotions.

  I have to make this pain stop.

  I pushed my will into her once more, heedless of the warning I hadn’t shaken off. “You’ll forget my last words, instead you’ll recall a polite excuse that will leave you mildly disappointed.”

  Energy washed out of me.

  She refused to meet his eyes, addressing Vitae in a flat tone. “If you would fill out the sign-in sheet, I can prepare you a temporary visitor’s badge.”

  “What?” I registered her comment a moment later, but rather than answer stepped away.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Dylan said. “What do you want?”

  I stiffened. A red rage seared up and down my veins. My hands itched to wrap around the impudent wafer’s neck and snap his head clean from his shoulders.

  I moistened my lips, pushing the rage down. I lowered my head so the mortal could not read my eyes. “I’ve come to apologize.”

  “What?” Dylan asked.

  “I apologize...Mister Snyder. I should not have spoken the things I did. A-Quayla wishes you in her life. The Shield requires your expertise, and I have come for your forgiveness.”

  Because I’ve been ordered to obtain both.

  Dylan stared.

  I produced a security card, holding it out with only a slight tremor. “Quayla has not fully recovered from her most recent death so—”

  “She died again?”

  I lowered my head once more. “To save me and our sanctum.”

  “Doesn’t sound like the sanctuary you tout as safe—”

  “You worthle—” I forced my voice to soften. “You are correct. It is for this reason we wish to enlist your services to improve the technology protecting Quayla.”

  “And the rest of you,” Dylan said.

  “Yes.”

  “Which makes your mention of Quayla a way to manipulate me.”

  A talon across his carotid artery would silence this wafer in instants.

  I made my shoulders sag and refused to meet Dylan’s eyes. “I would never intentionally do anything that would make you feel manipulated.”

  “Is that because you don’t wish to manipulate me or you just wished you didn’t suck at manipulations so badly that I can see right through you?”

  I tucked away the card. “If you don’t wish to help, I understand. I am sorry to have wasted your time.”

  And mine.

  “I’ll think about forgiving you—after I talk to Quayla.” He extended a hand. “The card please.”

  I produced the security card.

  “Anything else?”

  “It would be a kindness to Quayla and myself if you could procure her another mobile phone on my behalf. I can provide moneys through my delegate, but my knowledge of tech—”

  “Would have her lugging around an eighties car phone with no service,” Dylan said.

  “Does this mean you will choose one best suited to her needs?”

  “Yeah, I’ll bill you for the phone after I decide what to charge for evaluating your systems.” Dylan turned on his heels and marched toward the elevator bank.

  Sunlight entering the foyer through the windows took on an orange tinge.

  What would the Sidhe Courts do with the knowledge that a shield is fond of that wafer? Especially if she refuses to apologize in the manner that they desire?

  Caelum

  A whirlwind blew Caelum’s new body together inside his nest. Balloons swirled within the alcove on circling currents of essence. He cursed and turned to the freestanding mirror just off to one side. He frowned.

  Taller, skinnier...ugh! I look like a gangly adolescent, I’m really going to have to hit the gym, right after I dye my hair. Blonde isn’t a manly color—even with angelic looks, besides, it makes me look pasty.

  He snatched a long pin from the nearby table and popped several balloons. The stored essence joined with the whirlwind, topping off his nest once more.

  Caelum turned his back on his reflection, He stepped out of his basin and rounded a privacy screen into his modernly appointed bedroom. Unlike headquarters, the only items older than a single year hung on a wide wall populated with firearms.

  He snatched down a sawed-off shotgun, dropping it on the bed and grabbing twin MAC-10 submachine guns. He added two newer and only slightly less loved M1911A1 semiautomatics to the growing pile on the bed. He yanked a drawer in the wall open and plucked several full ammunition clips from its recesses. He slid the first into a back pocket that wasn’t there.

  Caelum chuckled.

  Right, pants. Well, going out like this would prove clothes don’t make the angel. Then again, having arrest photos go viral probably isn’t good for my career at Circlestone.

  Instead of his normal business casual attire, Caelum dressed out in fatigues. He snagged a belt from his dresser drawer to hold his trousers up on a narrower waist. He paused before closing the drawer to touch an alderwood box gilt with tarnished silver. He touched the gem in his chest and closed his eyes.

  “In service unto death I swear this life unto the Undying Light.”

  An answering thrum of power delivered the small down feather from the Shield’s divine.

  Plucking Summuseraphi’s ass now, I guess.

  He turned it over in his hands, unable to discern any real difference before tucking it into a back pocket, pulling on a shirt and loading up for a night of faerie-splattering reprisal.

  How do I get back with all this hardware? Can’t exactly catch an Uber.

  He thought, idly grabbing empty balloons from his bedside. With a moment’s effort, he inflated them with essence enchanted breath. He tossed each into his nest until out of breath. He cherry-picked a prepaid phone from several in another drawer.

  “Ignis, Caelum. Can you pick me up at my place? I died.”

  He hung up and filled another balloon.

  I’d best keep as much essence on hand as I can.

  Vitae

  I parked outside the small warehouse. The rental wasn’t far enough from Hartsfield-Jackson Airport to escape the roar of landing aircraft. I hadn’t yet bothered to figure out the conventional security system, but had set a series of seeds to give me warning of intrusions both Sidhe and Angelic.

  “Anima?”

  The automata’s voice emerged from my bronze statue. “What can I do for you, Shieldheart?”

  “Please send Nuntium to Thatch in the Sidhe Court and inform him that after giving the Courts’ request as much consideration as they’ve given ours, we are declining the form and flavor of apology demanded.”

  “Yes, Vitae, but I don’t think they’re going to like that answer.”

  “They are welcome to send me another emissary to discuss the topic further if they wish. Though considering the war they’re waging, I cannot vouchsafe his safety.”

  “Understood. Shall I also inform Shield Aquaylae?”

  “Quayla doesn’t need any more distractions from her convalescence. I’m sure she’ll waste enough energy rutting around with the wafer when he visits.”

  “He accepted the security card then?” Anima said. “Shall I activate it and inform her?”

  “Activate the card, but it would be best for
Quayla’s feelings that we keep this a surprise...just in case her wafer refuses to come.”

  “It may not be, my place, Shieldheart, but I commend your willingness to apologize and make peace for the benefit of your fellow shields.”

  I cannot believe I am being condescended to by a mortal device.

  “Thank you for your kind words, Anima.”

  After taking a moment to verify my seeds, I drove my Mercedes into the warded warehouse.

  “Anima?”

  The silence after my second call evidenced the wards functionally separating the statuette from the angelic network. I climbed out of my Mercedes, knocking a heavy briefcase against the door frame. Giving the jostled contents little thought, I stepped over a magical circle drawn on the concrete and dropped the case onto an old wire spool serving as the only table in the otherwise unfurnished space.

  A control just inside the warehouse proper closed the accordion style doors. I retrieved the briefcase en route to the workshop sectioned off on one side of the large space. Dropping it onto a worktable beside a nearly completed stone basin evoked a yelp and an angry buzz.

  The case opened to expose a small crystalline cage, a bruised and battered pixie imprisoned within, and my original volume of the Shieldheart’s Guide to Nests.

  The faerie assailed me with insults and so-called curses

  I rolled my eyes, checking over the precious book. I’d written the guide centuries ago, but as I explained in the forward notes trusting memory with something as vital as nests was the same as leaping unarmed into peril. I opened the tome to the appropriate section, tuning out the angry Sidhe’s grating high pitched droning.

  I circled my new nest, comparing runes stenciled in place from memory against my notes in the book. Several runes proved missing, but not due to absentmindedness. I’d omitted runes responsible for connecting the nest into Anima’s sentry net—the same connecting runes I’d left purposely absent from the seeds placed to watch my warehouse.

  I stopped, staring from the book to the basin and back in shock.

  I’d forgotten to prepare runes locking the nest to my sole use. A shiver went through me as I considered the potential mess resulting from lazy, weak-willed Aquaylae gaining access to the powers I’d be imbuing into anybody reborn from the basin.

  Once I’d confirmed the final arrangement of runes and added a precedence sigil to mark the new nest as my primary rebirth location, I set to work with a tiny bejeweled hammer and file. Time, practice and patience carved exacting runes into the basin’s stone. One feather-shaped leaf of divine silver at a time embossed the markings. Hours of tapping and layering and finishing brought the nest to completion.

  Magic and a sense of connection shrouded the new nest. It might’ve been overkill, but I double-checked each rune an exact duplicate to those in my book one last time.

  Perfection is worth any labor.

  The work had been tedious and draining, but giddy anticipation filled me. Prior to the nest’s completion, faerie blood experiments had been limited to direct absorption. The new nest allowed a whole new phase of tests. In theory, being reborn with Sidhe blood purposely mixed into my essence allowed me to regenerate magical strength just as the faerie did. Instead of exhausting the absorbed magic and being forced to draw in more, I’d generate my own.

  I carried my new nest onto the main warehouse floor, setting it down at the precise geometric center of a circle drawn and rune-decorated with now dark blood.

  The next logical test required courage. It would prove my dedication to my Shield, my worthiness to ascend into the ranks of the divine and prove my dedication to Mare as the highest form of agape love.

  I’d been polluted by Sidhe blood unawares. To protect my Shield and have any chance of freeing Mare from Dolumii’s blade, I had to master Sidhe magic. I had to arrange death and rebirth from essence purposefully contaminated with Sidhe blood.

  I squared my shoulders, summoning my resolve.

  Tainted essence had left me vulnerable to the capricious tempers and tastes of Faery. But the Sidhe blood mixed into my nest had also granted me advantages, had made it possible for me to sense Mare. My Shield needed stronger shields in this time of conflict, but even more important, Mare needed me.

  There’s nothing I won’t risk to free her.

  It would’ve been better to include Ignis and Terrance in my experiments. Properly empowered, the three of us could’ve forced the Unseelie Champion blade to relinquish our fallen shield.

  Unfortunately, lazy living and fraternization with mortals had weakened the others. Complacent and modernized, they lacked the fortitude necessary to devote themselves wholly to their duty let alone to what was needed to free Mare.

  I did not share their weakness.

  Mastering Faery blood will free Mare and give me the strength to dominate the Sidhe once and for all.

  I fetched the caged pixie from my brief case and carried it into the back part of my warehouse. Mostly occupied cages specially designed to hold the denizens of either Sidhe Court dotted the area.

  “You cannot hold us here, bird,” a winter elf shouted with a hoarse voice. “You’re in violation of the Articles of Ararat.”

  I folded my hands together, tilted my head and regarded one of the faeries I’d captured assaulting Atlanta. “I believe if you were to review that armistice, you’d find your rights forfeit by assault upon mortal noncombatants.”

  “We were attacking the Seelie.”

  “Did you or did you not slay a family of three shortly after your entrance into this plane?” I asked.

  The knight chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. “They happened in the way. Totally unintended.”

  I bristled. “Allow me to assure you, sir. What happens to you will be absolutely intended.”

  It took all of my will not to choose the elf for the next test. Fortunately, logic overruled passion. I wasn’t ready to test at that level. Early experimentation suggested the power within an elf equivalent to approximately three dozen pixie-sized faeries or three grendling sized Sidhe. I needed more of each type to develop a reliable quantification system, but observation advised prudent caution. Before I utilized another elf for my experiments, I needed to satisfy two conditions.

  Limited experimentation with the blood of only a single court had granted me marginal powers at the cost of enduring the influx of overriding faerie emotions and desires that threatened to thwart both my balance and my control.

  Not that I’m weaker than faerie whims.

  Thus first, I needed to acquire an elf of the opposite Court that the Seelie and Unseelie natures could cancel out the influences intrinsic to their specialized natures.

  Second, my ability to channel their magic needed to be advanced sufficiently so that I could utilize the amount of magic contained in their beings.

  I turned my attention to a set of small metal birdcages. The sight of wilted little faeries made a part of me cringe.

  The winged should never be caged.

  I sized up the new pixie. He looked too healthy to match up with another pixie from an opposite court. I set down the newest captor and evaluated my prisoners for a pairing of like size and condition.

  I am sorry to do so gruesome a harm upon you, little faeries. If this necessity casts me with villainy’s shadow, I shall bear the shame. Protecting this Shield requires that I free Mare.

  I chose and carried my prisoners into the main warehouse. They’d been imprisoned long enough that curses and oaths had surrendered to natural curiosity. They bombarded me with questions, flying against the metal bars to add burning pixie flesh to the taint escaping their ceaselessly, chittering mouths.

  I set them down inside a large, blood circle. A tome of Egyptian blood magic retrieved from my inner pocket allowed a review of the chapter on activating circles. After several minutes rereading, I brought a small pool of essence to my fingertip and touched it to the circle. Runes inside and out flared to life. A softly glowing glisten ran around and aroun
d the circle in an endless wave.

  A smile crept across my face.

  I turned to the cages.

  This is necessary. The Courts refuse to return our eggs. They play at war, staving off boredom by slaughtering innocent mortals. They deserve this—the honor of contributing to the cleanup of their mess.

  I opened the first cage.

  The pixie bit me and darted out the opening singeing one wing in the process. He rocketed toward freedom only to slam into the circle’s edge.

  I snatched the dazed fairy from the air, snapped its head off and drained its blood into my basin. An uneasiness pushed fingers into my gut and twisted. I pushed away discomfort, stiffening my resolve.

  For Mare.

  The other pixie went mad.

  High-pitched, rapid-fire chittering filled the circle with insensible begging and bargains that seemed to split my head. I opened the second cage. Instead of race out, it darted side to side against the cage, trying to avoid my hand. Damage to its wings eventually rendered it flightless.

  The little faerie lowered its head and walked into my hand. “Why, Shieldheart?”

  My head tilted. “I must free...I must protect this Shield. Faerie blood will increase my ability to protect mortals from your war.”

  “We’re only playing at war,” he said. “It could be so much worse.”

  “You’re playing out your war on mortal soil, killing innocents I’m charged to protect in the bargain.”

  It shrugged. “Wafers breed like rats. Given the choice, would you destroy your own lands when another battleground awaited as surrogate?”

  I considered. “You and I are of like mind. You war on surrogate land. I take your blood as a weapon against your kind.”

  “I watched you choose us. Why one from each Court? Did you choose only males purposefully, or by coin’s toss?”

  “You’re a quizzical little fellow,” I said.

  “I’m stalling,” he said. “I don’t want to die.”

  I nodded. “I experienced a number of negative side effects from reincarnating from blood tainted more strongly with one of two tainting Sidhe blood types. My first experiments of absorbing alternate Sidhe essences allowed for some less detrimental balancing. This time I shall reincarnate from essence augmented by balanced taint. I chose your kind for this test due to your weaker magic.”