Blood Faerie Read Online Free

Add to that the alcohol on their breath, and…Eilidh stopped mid-thought. The woman had smelled of all of those things, but the man had not. She noticed it when he’d returned alone. The woman’s scent clung to him in a faint, familiar way, but she wouldn’t have even noticed him if she hadn’t heard him. He smelled natural: no perfumes, no smoke, no alcohol. The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed.
     
    After the night’s weather, it would be impossible to pick up even a faint trail, but Eilidh tried. She could smell nothing but the acidity of the street overlaid with the pleasant wafting sweetness that came with summer rain. She paused, bracing herself to do something she didn’t like to do. She would not cast the azure—she would simply listen. The forbidden astral magic welled easily, pooling in her mind. Her thoughts opened, and suddenly she could see herself from above. With god-like eyes, she scanned the street below, aching with the details of every pore in the stone, each fleck of moss in every tiny crevice. Blood and death flooded her senses, and she could almost feel the life in those diluted cells that crept away with each tumbling raindrop. Larger forms of life: a white moth, a heather beetle, a small brown spider, a cluster of rats, birds flapping overhead, the force of their tiny existence beat loudly in her enhanced hearing.

    Overwhelmed by the sensations, Eilidh fought to come back into her own mind, but her inexperience with the astral flows left her unable to control the power that thudded in her body. Even as she fought with herself, she recognised in a flash what was missing from the spot where the man’s body had fallen. The knowing came before the words, but as the words formed in her mind, something else intruded.
     
    Outcast. The word shuddered through her entire existence, relentlessly pressing in her ears. Outcast. He called to her, and Eilidh’s mind was wide open because of the unpractised astral casting. The word echoed, beckoning and holding her as though he knew her past, future, and every intimate thought. How could one of the blood touch her thoughts? The realm of a blood faerie was flesh and bone, while an astral faerie touched perception, memory and illusion. Eilidh knew she should fight it, but her body was heavy and her magic wrapped in the miasma of her heightened senses.

    She didn’t have to ask who it was. Only a powerful faerie could do this. While she could have pretended it was one of her own kingdom come to redeem her, she didn’t waste time on such hopes. Besides, she could taste the tang of blood magic in her mouth. None of the kingdom knew those rites.
     
    Eilidh fell to the wet paving stones. She heard voices and felt the rough touch of human hands on her arms and throat. She smelled their breath. Their words came loudly, but the meanings took longer to take hold in her throbbing mind.

    “You’re okay.” The voice soothed her and a part of her relaxed.
     
    He had gone, no longer picking at the edges of her thoughts.

    Eilidh opened her eyes and met the worried expression in his, which were a dark shade of blue. “Munro,” she whispered. Her thoughts were now her own. She sighed. Her mind calmed, and she realised what was missing from the murder scene. Still looking intently at Munro, willing him to understand, she said, “The death occurred here. The casting of blood continued elsewhere.” The words felt strange within her mouth, and she realised how long it had been since she had talked to someone else. English, of course, was not her native tongue. It had been spoken by humans in this land all her life, so she’d been taught. She also knew the tongues of the fae, Picts, Gaels, Swedes, and Celts, as well as Latin, even though she’d been born many hundreds of years after the Romans had come and gone from this island.
     
    She struggled to sit up. Munro searched her eyes, seeming puzzled. Had she said something wrong? English had changed