Ruled by Tainted Blood

by Michael J Allen

  I parted curtains of long ebony waves to reveal supple curves and full breasts. A pert smile curled the corner of full lips—not from the beauty of my gorgeous female body, but the tingling power glistening along every inch like a sheen of sweat.

  This ratio is...intoxicating...powerful.

  “You are beautiful in your might, Master, but...,” the coyll’s canid ears pressed to his head, “your gender has been corrupted. You do not wish to be—”

  I lifted a leg like a crane and let blood drip back into my nest. I turned toward the knee-high Wyldfae. “A bitch? Trust me, I will be no one’s bitch, Scurith, but seeming so may encourage others to underestimate me. This body is a weapon suited to controlling wafers and Sidhe alike. With it, I can ensure Atlanta’s peace.”

  And perhaps force Dolumii’s sword to release Mare.

  “I-if you say so, M-Mistress,” Scurith stammered.

  “Master!”

  “Y-yes,yes, apologies, M-Master, many apologies.”

  “Well, let’s find out. Notify Thatch that I am coming.”

  I placed the mostly dry foot onto the warehouse concrete, careful not to set bloody toes on any of the markings defining the magical circle used to imprison and bleed my captives. I lifted the other foot, wriggling toes to help it drip faster.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught motion near the door. The coyll’s tan and grey fur let it blend into backgrounds far more readily than the strong colors of its gnoll cousins. “Stop!”

  Power washed out of me.

  The smaller humanoid froze, paw-like hand on the handle.

  “How very legalistic of you, Scurith, but you know I did not intend you to leave this building.”

  He bowed his head, sandy brown tail tucking between his legs. “I merely wanted to serve your desire, Mist-Master.”

  A flick of one hand lashed a line of fire across the distance and across the coyll’s grey muzzle with a sizzle. Cooked dog fur fouled the air. “A message serves my desire, not an absent messenger.”

  “But the protocols, Master. Royal members of the Courts must be notified in person.”

  “Thatch is a filthy little goblin,” I said. “He will accept a whispering wind and be glad to receive me.”

  Scurith bowed away from the door, ears flicking forward then against his head in turns. He scurried into the small office.

  I examined my body once more. None of the clothing stored in the warehouse could cover my body in a manner suited to its new splendor. I turned to the rearmost area of the warehouse, the sway of my hips throwing off my balance.

  I’d expanded my jail area, adding even more cages designed to hold Seelie and Unseelie of differing types and sizes. The more my Shield captured alive, the more cages I needed.

  A dwarf threw himself at a cage door. “Release me! Holding me is a violation of the Articles of Ararat.”

  “I told you before, you’ll be released once you confess to crimes against Creation and provide the location of our stolen eggs.”

  “I don’t know where your damned eggs are.”

  I thrust out one hip and rested a hand on it. “Pity.”

  I scoured the cages, coming at last to an elven warrior in ornate armor. I circled her weighing my options.

  She glowered at me. “You might look like an elf, but you stomp around like a pregnant yak.”

  My lip curled. “Strip.”

  “You need real perfection to mimic?”

  “I need your clothes, preferably unbloodied,” I said.

  “No.”

  I stepped closer to the bars, feeling a rising surge of magic. I fixed her with my gaze and pushed the magic into my voice as I took hold of the bars between us. Pain burned my palms and nausea washed up my arms.

  I stepped back, seizing my midsection. Summoned magic fled to make room for sudden convulsions. My legs folded. I hit the ground writhing.

  “First taste of iron is always the worst—not that subsequent tastes are much better.” The elf sneered. “Looks like you got some weakness when you stole our strength. Serves you right.”

  It took several minutes for the sickness to fade and more to master myself. Anger replaced the heat stolen by the cement floor. Magic rocketed to my furious call and shot across the distance between my gaze and hers. “Strip and hand me your clothes.”

  A swooping sensation filled the sudden absence of magic, but vanished as my faerie blood restored the used power. The elf warrior handed out her clothes, taking the utmost care to avoid the iron bars.

  I sauntered back into the main warehouse. “Scurith?”

  The little coyll appeared.

  Smaller than their larger cousins, coyll made up for their weakness with better magic skill. It was for that reason that I’d spared Scurith and pressed him into service. “Teach me to bespell these clothes to suit my tastes.”

  “Yes, Master. At once.”

  Once I had repaired and enchanted the armor into a resplendent mix of rich, verdant greens, silver and gold, I drove my Mercedes across town to the Central Presbyterian Church.

  A block away, an Atlanta police cruiser flashed its lights at me. It took all of my will not to blind the wafer and leave him behind to park or crash. Still, I was a life phoenix. Protecting the interrupting wafer was my duty, even if I was protecting the mortal shield from his own impertinence.

  The chirp of his siren almost prompted me to reconsider.

  He took his sweet time sidling up to the car window. “License and registration?” He scanned my face, eyes sliding down my armored dress as he licked his lips. “On second thought, step out of the car please.”

  I caught the man’s hungry gaze.

  Normally, I’d have had The Isaac replace identity papers after a death, but I’d died a dozen times without contacting him. No one needed to know my business. I was a Shieldheart protecting my Shield. That was all that mattered.

  “Ma’am?”

  I pushed power out between my lips. “Truth is, there’s no need for this, constable.”

  “Yes, ma’am, there is. You were speeding, and now I intend to make you bend over so I can ogle you.”

  “No. God created woman to be a helpmate, an equal partner. Your attitude disgraces His Creation.” I pushed more power into my voice. “Women are not objects. You will not treat them or think of them in that manner, do you understand?”

  He whimpered.

  “Answer!”

  “I will no longer treat or think of women as objects.”

  “Correct. As for speeding, you now realize the vehicle you thought was mine was actually another. You made a mistake. You’ll do better next time. Now let me go with an apology.”

  “I...I think I made a mistake, ma’am,” the officer said. “You’re free to go with my apologies.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Mark down in your logs that you gave me a warning and then forget the whole incident.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Tell me I can go.”

  “You may go.”

  I sped away without waiting on the officer to step away from the Mercedes’ door. I parked at the church and strode across the lawn around the side.

  A little old lady glared at me. “This is God’s house, not some pagan hostel for harlots and deviants.”

  I stopped, turning slowly to the grey-haired harridan and her bony, brandished finger. Essence welled into my narrowed eyes. “I think you will find this is God’s yard. That’s his house, and since I see none of his light in you, what gives you any right to hurl judgement at a servant of His Undying Light?”

  She snorted.

  Magic frothed and fizzed in my center, shooting through my core and down one arm like foam made by warm root beer poured on ice cream.

  Her eyes locked on my fingers as she shrank away from me.

  I followed her gaze to emerald flame licking my fingers. “If I were you, I’d divest myself of self-importance, go in there and humble yourself to your Maker—before He has His anointed send you to
meet Him in person.”

  I turned my back and marched around a trestle arch. Too-dry vine roses wove through the latticework. I dug an acorn and a small pinecone from a belt pouch, but hesitated.

  This is no way to represent the Undying Light.

  Transferring everything to my off hand, I squeezed my center and caressed the vines with the life energy pulsing in my hand. Ruby essence streaked with evergreen and violet spread up and down the plant. Buds and leaves exploded from hydrated, healthy stems. Crimsons blossom clusters flowered. Beneath the thick foliage, thorns lengthened and their tips darkened to violet

  Better. A crown of glory for the Most High.

  I articulated and intoned the opening incantation with easy precision, filling the archway with swirls of summoned magic.

  And without angering the heavens...unlike a certain greenhorn.

  A wide cobbled path led me up a rise under a star-filled night. Dark trees grew up to the path’s edge, allowing me to see the sky through winter-stripped branches. Shapes moved in the distance, eyes gleaming yellow without light to reflect.

  I drew Dolumii’s sword. The hilt writhed beneath my fingers until it reformed into a perfect fit. The hilt bent around my slender fist, the violet glow along the dark blade casting long shadows on tormented faces mouthing silent horrors. I drew Gherrian’s sword with similar results, save the pumpkin orange hilt where eyes narrowed but no mouths moaned.

  “Your knights couldn’t best me, but try me if you lust for death.”

  None did.

  I reached the hollow. Cracked, blood-darkened mud replaced the former cobbles. Camp stools replaced cushioned chairs around a new table shaped by hard angles into a jagged M.

  To the left beneath tall pines, a stone tower with lowered portcullis replaced the former silk tent—though ice blue and dark raspberry, evergreen and white still colored its exterior. Right mirrored left, daffodil and crimson, gold and orange failing to soften the tower’s sinister feel.

  A single figure guarded each—cloaked and hooded, but unmoved by the swords still in my grip.

  I called out to the only unchanged feature. “Thatch!”

  A rotund goblin in an Edwardian suit coat and vestment scrambled out of the tiny tent on the far side of the hollow. Long narrow ears extended a middle distance between that of a dark, greasy, ponytail and a nose twice as long. His bowed his head repeated, black bow bobbing as he hurried forward on patent leather clown shoes.

  He eyed the cloaked figures. “You summoned me, Shieldhe—”

  I sheathed a single sword to plant the hand on one hip. “Is there a problem, Thatch?”

  “Um, n-no, no problem, Shield Vitae—are you still called Vitae?” Thatch asked, eyes taking in my new form.

  “I am always Vitae, the vessel is no matter.”

  A rich European accent dried by scorn emerged from my left, “I disagree.”

  The guard’s deep violet, velvet cloak dropped away from his shoulders. Ebony quicksilver framed thin angled features of silver-powdered Mediterranean olive. Armor more ornate than my stolen garb covered the Unseelie Knight in raspberry, midnight and silver filigree. Scaled gloves tucked into his belt by their thumbs.

  The second elf threw off his cloak and bowed with a flourish that swept loose chestnut waves forward to curtain his face. He rose once more, a smirk lifting a corner of his thin lips up a bronze cheek. He too wore ornate armor, though pumpkin orange, scarlet and gold. “I must agree with Knight Dolumii, Lady Shield, though it grieves my sensibilities.”

  “Strange days, Knight Gherrian,” Dolumii said.

  “I must agree once more,” Gherrian said.

  Cold swallowed me, held back by burning magic reaching for my fingers. “I killed you both.”

  “While you fought well,” Gherrian said. “Shield Aquaylae gets credit for our slaying.”

  “A deft kill,” Dolumii said. “More the splendid for slaying all three of us by daring what you feared do.”

  “Reckless.” I seethed. “Not daring.”

  “Whatever slays your enemy,” Dolumii said.

  “As long as the act is honorable,” Gherrian said.

  Dolumii snorted.

  “You admit you were slain,” I said.

  “And assigned to guard an unused gate as punished for my failure,” Dolumii darkened. “Still, I can now reclaim my blade.”

  “I shall take mine too, if you would be so kind,” Gherrian said.

  My eyes flitted from Dolumii to Gherrian to Thatch. “Explain how this is possible.”

  “Surrender my Champion blade, bird,” Dolumii said.

  “No,” I drew my second blade and tightened my grip. “They are mine by right of conquest.”

  “Then I’m afraid we shall take them,” Dolumii said.

  “And you shall get no answer,” Gherrian added.

  They rushed me.

  I pressed down on my essence, compacting it into a tight core.

  Released in the transmogrification, the additional power I’d granted myself through experimentations exploded alongside my essence. Great black-edged crimson wings spread wider than they’d ever extended before. Enchanted elven armor and the Knights’ blades changed with me, plating my phoenix form and wrapping my talons in razor gauntlets—one golden and one blueish silver. Magic crackled along my wingtips, arching from pinion to pinion.

  Thatch gasped. “By the Pit.”

  Both Knights hesitated.

  I didn’t.

  Dolumii drew a sword and summoned a handful of magic as he leapt clear of my talons. His defensive slash scored the armor protecting one of my wings.

  I battered him with the opposite and thrust my beak at the elf’s throat. A camp stool slammed into my back, driving my body forward to miss Dolumii’s throat. I whirled around, slamming wings together. A wave of magical force aborted Gherrian’s charge.

  “Shield Vitae, you cannot attack Knights of the Sidhe Court without cause!” Thatch yelled. “If you slay them with the Champion blades the consequences would be beyond dire.’

  Dolumii rolled to his feet and slashed.

  I deflected the cut with the talon armored by Dolumii’s transmogrified sword and struck with the other talon.

  Gherrian tripped Dolumii with another stool and deflected my blow. My wing slammed into Gherrian. I snapped my beak after the fallen elf.

  Dolumii stabbed up into my descending body.

  Armor deflected his blow, but I released my anger in a roar. Dolumii threw his sword straight into my face. A wingtip’s twitch slid me to the side as the blade cut across the side of my head.

  Dolumii’s victorious cheer turned to gurgling screams as my hooked beak tore his entrails from his torso. Gherrian leapt off the table onto my back. He hooked his sword around my throat and yanked backward. The blade cut into me. Blood sprayed cut feathers over Dolumii.

  Gherrian’s blade jerked backward through my throat as I transmogrified. He fell backward, striking his head.

  I whipped back around, slamming armored wings through Gherrian’s neck like scissors. Emerald light blazed from my eyes. “Come back from that.”

  “They will,” Thatch said.

  I rounded on him. “How? I’ve slain faerie for two millennium and never had one return.”

  “You’ve never killed the anointed Knight of a Principa—um, leader of one of the Courts,” Thatch said. “They’re lives are bolstered by their liege.”

  I seethed. “Tell me where to find their nests? I’ll finish this once and for all.”

  “That’s not how this works.”

  “No,” I said. “If their deaths drew energy off Vusolaryn or Mariena to bring them back, then they would’ve known of the deaths before we informed them.”

  “They did,” Thatch said. “Vusolaryn and Mariena....um, meant to play you.”

  “So, the only way to rid myself of these two is to slay Vusolaryn and Mariena?”

  Thatch blanched. “You cannot. They are powers beyond anything you could
muster. Attacking them would be like declaring—”

  “War?” I sneered. “We’re already at war.”

  “No,” Thatch said. “Armageddon. You must not even speak of threatening them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Slaying Gherrian and Dolumii in your world was bad enough they want your Aqua’s blood. Slaying them here in the Courts will bring every Seelie and Unseelie calling for your blood. They will stop at nothing to avenge these deaths. I cannot even imagine the outcry for a worse offense.”

  I wrung the hilts gripped in my hand. “Let them come. I will decorate my kingdom with their skins.”

  “Kingdom, Shieldheart? Do you not mean Shield?”

  “Whatever,” I said. “I would hear what you have learned regarding our eggs.”

  “No one is speaking, Shield Vitae.” Thatch gestured at the corpses. “Now, no word will escape their lips save the cry for your True Death.”

  10: Calling the Cops

  Quayla

  I followed Mrs. Cox upstairs. My best efforts failed to rush the woman even though I needed to find Judith. In a way, she was right. She’d left the message on my phone hours ago. Judith was either safe or not no matter how much we hurried.

  Taint on the air thickened with each step, pressing against my skin despite overpowering odors of chemical pine and copious white sage burning in the stairwell. The combination left me nauseous and light headed.

  “Goblin blood really is noxious stuff,” Mrs. Cox said. “Nana swore by lye, but I read somewhere that things from fairy land are supposed to dissolve into goo after they’re killed”

  I wrinkled my nose, trying to hold off a sneeze. “I know the book you mean. That’s not how it works.”

  Mrs. Cox gave me a sidelong look.

  An imperfectly removed blood stain marked where a goblin body had fallen only to be killed by the sweet little old lady.

  I’m going to have to call Summus.

  We crested the landing.

  I slipped around Mrs. Cox, interposing myself between possible danger and the old landlady. More stains that nothing on the planet could remove marked the carpet.

  Nothing mortal anyway.

  “I already killed them, dear.”