Changeling: An Appalachian Magic Novel Book 2 (Appalachian Magic Series) Read online

  Seelies. Most annoying.”

  “They’re beautiful.” Skye defended them in a sorrowful voice.

  “You lure them to the absinthe and then you trap them in it.”

  “My own special recipe,” Claribel said with a smug smile. “I take what the alcohol distillery sends and then I add extra wormwood and a secret blend of other herbs that the pixies find absolutely irresistible.”

  “But—I thought it was Glenna. I saw a vision in the obsidian stone and her bracelet was in it.”

  “Glenna?” Claribel waved a dismissive hand and then carefully sank down, sitting on the floor next to Skye. “That fake? No, she wouldn’t see a pixie if it landed on her nose and bit her. This made her useful to me. I run a profitable, very hush-hush, absinthe distribution on the side. You could say Glenna is my sales rep. Thanks to her word-of-mouth, our absinthe is a very popular drink on campus.”

  Skye tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on escape. At least keeping Claribel talking beat getting zapped with fairy fire.

  “Absinthe is legal now. Why all the secrecy?”

  “Because most of my clientele are under age twenty-one. Don’t want the feds or local authorities breathing down my neck.”

  Skye shook her head. “I saw Glenna put the metal tray over an open bottle of absinthe and trap the fairies. She’s more than your absinthe pimp.”

  “That girl is more clueless than you. Glenna only mixes my special herbs. I tell her that they need be added to the liquor and ‘breathe’ in the alcohol overnight to make the drink more potent. She comes down the next morning and puts the tray over the bottle as the final step in a private recipe for my own consumption.”

  “And she doesn’t see the dead fairies in it,” said Skye. “If this is how you trap them, they’re already dead when you get your hands on them. Khee—I mean—I thought they were tortured for information in the Fairy Wars.”

  Skye winced at the slip. She didn’t want to draw any attention to Kheelan and place him in danger.

  Claribel nodded. “Oh, some of them are tortured all right. I peel the wings off some, and on others I tie strings around their puny little bodies and whirl them around at dizzying speeds. They are all most happy to talk after a few hours.”

  She didn’t want to ask, but had to know. “What about the ones who get trapped in the absinthe?”

  Claribel obscenely smacked her lips. “I drink up their dead bodies. Pixie blood is powerful magic for the Unseelie. I had hoped you would drink some of the absinthe down here. I even provided you with the extra key when you came snooping. I would have enjoyed your reaction to my special concoction. Unfortunately, I had no idea you would find that obsidian stone. It almost gave me away.”

  Nausea rumbled in Skye’s stomach. A combination of pain, flying and learning of Claribel’s carnivorous cravings. “Gross.” Did Claribel plan to kill her and then feast on her flesh?

  “Don’t call me gross, you disgusting half-fairy. You are only marginally above that changeling in the Fae social structure.” She laughed at Skye’s opened mouth. “Yes, I’ve seen the two of you together. It’s my business to watch all you do. But that’s not the reason I hate you.”

  Skye’s mouth and lips went dry and numb. Disapproval or indifference she was used to, but hate was new territory. “Why?”

  Claribel raised her left hand and positioned her thumb ring in the lone ray of light from the hanging bulb. Obsidian and moonstone flecks sparkled on its unique orb of titanium metal. “Lawren gave me this at our betrothal ceremony.”

  The anger was gone and it seemed the old Claribel was back.

  Her face softened, her voice was light and girlish. “It was the happiest day of my life.” She put her hand back in her lap and faced Skye. “We were both committed to Queen Morgana. She granted us important positions of espionage for the Unseelie Court. Lawren and I pledged to eliminate power all enemies in the Seelie Court.” Her eyes hardened, the fury again blazing. “Everything was perfect until Rowena Watters came into our lives.”

  Skye really didn’t want to hear this, she knew where it was heading. She closed her eyes to avoid Claribel’s flushed face and fisted hands.

  “She stole my Lawren.”

  A sudden clap and loud vibration by her feet made Skye open her eyes.

  “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.” Claribel had slammed a hand by Skye’s legs and her face was only inches away. “Your mother must have cast some sort of love spell on Lawren to make him forsake me. Oh, sure, he’d had flings with humans before, what fairy doesn’t? But this time he got caught in a powerful witch’s snare.”

  Skye felt the need to defend her mom. “They must have been truly in love to risk everything.”

  A bolt of energy exploded on her right kneecap and Skye curled up in a ball on the cold concrete.

  Claribel’s voice was shrill and her pudgy body shook with anger. “Rowena brainwashed him. And he didn’t just turn his back on me after centuries together. Lawren forsake his allegiance to the

  Unseelie Court and turned traitor.”

  Skye digested the words and translated their true meaning.

  Claribel’s husband and her mother had fallen in love and Lawren had changed because of that—he had wanted to switch to the side of lightness and goodness. Good for Mom. And good for him— her real father.

  “When I found out about you, it was the cruelest insult of all. When I confronted him about his betrayal to me, to our kind, Lawren didn’t deny it. He actually said”—she spit out the words with contempt—“that he loved you, wanted to be a true father to you.”

  She was their child, Rowena and Lawren’s daughter. This was how she’d come to be half-fae. She actually had a father who loved and wanted her. No wonder the man she had thought of as her real father wanted nothing to do with her. Her mind traveled back to age five when she had come down the stairs for her dance recital. He had gaped at her costume, focusing in on the angel wings. The revulsion that flashed in his eyes was the moment she realized, even as a kid, that he didn’t love her.

  He knew Skye wasn’t his, he even knew her true father wasn’t human.

  Skye struggled to a standing position, placing her weight on the uninjured leg. “Where is he? I want to meet my father.”

  “He’s dead, you idiotic half-breed.”

  Dead. She would never meet him.

  “The Unseelie Court hunted him down and killed him. Nobody escapes us.” Claribel arose and narrowed a meaningful gaze on Skye. “Nobody.”

  18

  Trapped

  Nobody. A half-breed. Nothing special.

  Claribel’s words pummeled like blows at Skye’s deepest insecurities and fears. She had never measured up or fit in anywhere. Not at home, not at school, and not in this new world she had fallen into.

  Outside the basement window, Dark Fae murmurs rose in a tide of excitement. Claribel was going to kill her and she was powerless to stop it. She didn’t have Callie’s or her mom’s witchcraft abilities to fight back.

  Only a couple of hours remained until midnight and Samhain’s arrival. Soon after the moon’s next rising, she would be dead and with her death the balance of power in the fae world would shift. The Unseelie Faes’ strength would increase and the Seelie Fae would eventually serve the darkness or face extinction.

  The iron medallion warmed where it lay at the center of her chest. She raised her right hand and lightly rubbed the solid disc. If she couldn’t help the Seelie fairies, Kheelan would never be free. Even worse, he would end up serving the Dark Fae—helpless to cruel taskmasters more heartless than Finvorra.

  If they let him live.

  She could not—would not let that happen. Callie’s words whispered in her mind, you are more powerful than you know. Everything you need is within.

  “I’ve waited for this night a long time,” Claribel said. “You, even more than Rowena, ruined my life. Lawren wouldn’t have turned his back on me for just your tawdry witch of a mother. He did
it for you.”

  Skye set to work, focused on putting up a protective energy shield against the vibrations of anger shooting from Claribel. Too bad she had lost the hematite crystal when she had flung off her coat.

  “I hope Callie knew what she was talking about,” Skye muttered.

  She tuned out Claribel’s raging, and found that calm center inside herself to chant and raise energy for her intention. Silently, she formed the words in her mind.

  Kindly spirits draw unto me

  Earth, air, fire and sea

  Around me form a protective bubble

  In my hour of doubt and trouble

  Pearly white, opalite rays

  Cast now this Dark Fae away

  I command it with my spell

  Useless is this Claribel.

  As I will, so mote it be.

  Smoky strands of white and purple swirled like an aura over Skye. It worked. With every pulse of her heart, the colors grew more intense and thick.

  “What’s this?” Claribel screamed.

  Through the shield, Skye saw and heard the shrieking fairy but she no longer feared the creature.

  Claribel raised a wand and the blue streak spewed like lightning from its tip. The energy hit the pulsating shield of color around Skye, but sputtered as harmless as a child’s sparkler firecracker.

  The sparking stopped and there was no sound except the breath of the two facing each other. Inhale, exhale, inhale . . .

  “It takes too much energy to keep that shield up.” Claribel spoke softly, calmly. “Face it, time is running out. You can’t hold it much longer.”

  “Long enough,” Skye said.

  “Long enough for what? If you’re waiting for Kheelan to come save you, you’re doomed.”

  Dread crept through every pore in her body. “What have you done to him?” Despite the fear, Skye’s voice matched Claribel’s in calm control.

  “You will never see him again.”

  The pain lashed, a hundred times worse than any poisonous fairy dart.

  “Liar!” Skye screamed.

  Her concentration in maintaining the protection shield shattered and the white and purple clouds of smoke evaporated. Too late, Skye realized her mistake. She stood, exposed, to the cunning enemy. A blinding flash of blue exploded and she was out.

  He should have been gone hours ago. Kheelan frowned at the blackened sky, visible through the kitchen window, as he poured another endless round of scotch and soda.

  “Be quick with it, changeling,” boomed one of the unwelcome guests.

  Unwelcome to Kheelan anyway. Finvorra had greeted the three traveling Fae, all as thoroughly reprobate and uncouth as himself, with hearty enthusiasm. They had arrived unexpected in the late afternoon as Kheelan had been about to leave and check on Skye. They came to visit their old pal and celebrate the coming Samhain together. Which meant they would be staying overnight.

  He balanced the four drinks on a tray and brought it to the table.

  “—and then I tells her ‘Aye, ye right bonnie darlin’ but don’t ye be bletherin’ all the morn’ after me bender last eve,’” said one of the guests, slamming a beefy fist on the wooden table. Tumblers of watered-down drinks sloshed over from the impact.

  Finvorra snapped his fingers for Kheelan to clean the mess. He set down the freshened drinks, gathered up a few dirty dishes and left to get a towel. Alone in the kitchen, Kheelan snatched a clean dishrag and bunched it in his fists. The old coots should have drunk themselves under the table by now.

  Was Skye safe? He couldn’t stop thinking of his last glimpse of her—pale, bewildered, and furious with him. ‘I can take care of myself,’ she had boasted.

  She had no idea what fairies could do. Right now, she was a valuable commodity to the Seelies and a dangerous menace to the Unseelies. One side would make a move tonight, a preemptive strike for tomorrow night’s battles.

  Kheelan stared out the window. With the setting sun, each passing minute of darkness cloaked his bright dream of freedom until hope became only a distant memory. The blood moon rained down without mercy. The Fae battle would begin with its next night’s dawning.

  “Get yer arse in here, changeling,” Finvorra growled from the next room. He liked to be extra nasty when guests were around.

  Kheelan reentered their room and began mopping up the table.

  “It’s a braw bricht moonlit nicht,” a guest noted with a yawn.

  ‘A brilliant bright moonlit night’, Kheelan understood the familiar saying, so popular amongst the Fae. The four fairies raised their glasses for yet another toast, even as they slumped in their chairs.

  He had to get out of here. Had to protect Skye. Kheelan glared at the key ring holder by the doorway. The empty hook mocked him—where his motorcycle and truck keys should be hanging, it was bare. Finvorra had made sure Kheelan didn’t slip out while he was entertaining his old friends. If he tried to escape, they would notice immediately and overtake him. If he tried to sneak out, he would still be stranded miles out in the country—far from any transportation. Even if he hitchhiked, the odds of a passing driver picking him up before Finvorra missed him were almost nil.

  A loud snore rumbled from the other room. Kheelan softly padded to the doorway to check in on his captors.

  A giant of a fairy was sprawled in a chair, head lolling to one side in slumber. The other three yawned and stretched.

  “Methinks a wee nap would be right braw,” one of them said, rubbing misshapen fingers over his broad face.

  Kheelan went over. “I’ll be glad to show each of you to a spare bedroom.”

  The nearest fairy patted his arm. “Ye be a good Tacharan,” he mumbled, shoving a chair to the floor as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

  Kheelan had never been happier to serve the Fae as he directed each of the guests to a bed. Finvorra settled into his recliner by the fireplace and Kheelan watched and waited for the sleep to overcome, a hawk poised for flight. Once he slept, he’d find those damn truck keys. If the fates smiled favorably on him this Samhain, it would be his last look at any Guardian.

  Incessant ringing . . . once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, sensation slowly returned to her numbed nerves. The vibrating rhythm of the ring flowed through her body. Skye shivered and realized she lay on a cold, hard surface. Still, she couldn’t piece together any cohesive meaning to these isolated impressions. Her eyes opened and it was like looking into an old black and white TV set in the middle of a severe thunderstorm— all gray static and only dark outlines for shapes.

  Angry words were spoken in clipped sentences. She knew that voice. Skye puzzled over it.

  More sensation crept through her foggy brain. A burning on her wrists and a sound like a zipper shutting. More pain and the zipper noise by each ankle. Rough hands shook her shoulders.

  “Listen to me, Skye. I want you conscious for this.”

  A face loomed inches away. It was pale and the sagging skin lined with wrinkles. Eyelids of green sparkles and fuchsia lipstick smudged on thin, compressed lips.

  Claribel.

  Skye jerked back and tried to stand, only to feel the constraint of hot metal cutting into wrists and ankles.

  Handcuffed.

  “You are temporarily spared,” said Claribel. “That was Queen Morgana’s personal guard, calling with orders for me to keep you chained while I meet with the Queen at once to discuss what to do with you.” Claribel thoughtfully tapped the side of her cheek with bejeweled fingers. “I suspect armed guards will transport you to the celestial crystal sight and parade you in front of the Seelie Court fairies. Show them how close they were to vanquishing our race and then crush their spirits completely with a public execution.” She leaned into Skye until they were nose-to-nose. The smell of violets was overpowering.

  “By all rights, killing you should be my privilege.” She jerked a fistful of Skye’s red and purple hair and twisted it viciously. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for eighteen years. When you walked in my
shop, I knew who you were at once. Figured a silly twit like you would follow Tanner to college and be drawn to work here. I counted on that four years ago when I opened The Green Fairy.”

  Skye drew a ragged breath when Claribel released her hair.

  Claribel smiled and delicately traced small circles on Skye’s cheeks. “Until later my pretty,” she whispered. Abruptly, she faced the window and screamed, “Watch her closely,” to the Dark Fae watching outside. With no look back at her captive, Claribel made her way up the creaky steps and turned out the lights. The turn of the key in the lock echoed through the basement like a ricocheting bullet.

  She drank in deep, violet-scent free breaths. Claribel was gone.

  For now.

  The relief didn’t last long. Her scalp was raw and tender. The iron in the handcuffs and leg restraints burned into her flesh. She checked their tightness. There was some give between the cuffs and flesh, so the burning had to be caused by her new fairy metal allergy. Terrific. Claribel had done a good job of restraining her. The handcuffs and leg irons were connected by a chain bolted around a concrete column. She stood and checked out her range of motion. Only about three feet in a circular direction.

  Even more than her injuries, being chained like a dog preyed on her mind. What if a fire started? Or what if something happened to Claribel and she was stuck here twenty-four hours until Samhain’s midnight?

  Where was Kheelan?

  Please goddesses let him be alive. Claribel’s threats that she would never see him again were because of Claribel’s intention to kill her.

  It didn’t mean Kheelan had been hurt or was . . . dead.

  Don’t go there.

  A phone rang and the “Sweet Home Alabama” ringtone started. Her phone. In the eerie, orangey moonlight that lent an authentic Halloween aura, Skye tried to locate it by sound and sight.

  There—only a few yards away. She searched frantically for an object to extend her reach and draw it to her. But there was nothing.

  A beep sounded.

  “Skye, it’s Callie. I have the most awful feeling that you’re in trouble. Please call me right away. And if for some reason you can’t—” A slight pause. “If you can hear me, and I sense you do, remember you have the power to overcome whatever the Fae throw at you.” More silence. “Call me as soon as you can.”