Blood Faerie (11 page)

“Your police? I don’t know.”

They both stared toward the scene of the crime. Munro felt the dark wrongness hanging in the air.

“Come,” Eilidh said. “The blood faerie went south.”

They backtracked away from the body, and Munro felt a stab of guilt. He should make sure the crime had been reported. His training told him he should preserve the scene and stay with the body. If he left, who knew what would happen? And who would discover the corpse? This was a school, he reminded himself. He didn’t want some kid stumbling upon the horror. But he also knew Eilidh was right, and, for Munro, doing the
right
thing, the thing his years of training told him to do, would be a mistake. It would lead to questions Munro didn’t have answers to, and would confuse an investigation doomed to fail anyway, at least as long as the police were searching for a human culprit with ordinary motives. Preserving forensic evidence wouldn’t tell them half as much as using Eilidh to track the killer.

Munro couldn’t sense the presence or scent Eilidh followed through town. He could tell she was frustrated at having to jog slowly enough to accommodate his human limitations, but she didn’t leave him behind. She covered her features with a hood as they moved into the more trafficked streets. Fortunately, the one they chased seemed to have avoided well-lit areas and took back streets wherever possible.

After about a mile of dense city, they moved more openly and picked up their pace. Eilidh stopped from time to time and stood perfectly still, listening hard. Then she would shake her head, and they’d go on, rarely deviating from a path that led straight south. After another mile, they passed the large expanse of the South Inch, down the Edinburgh Road to the edge of the city.

Eilidh stopped again, gazing south, and quivering. “He was just here.” Frustration rippled across her face. “Faith, I can go no further.”

Heart thumping from the long run across the city, Munro stared at her, confused. “Did the trail disappear?”

“No,” she said. “It is too dangerous. There are other fae about. Kingdom fae. I can feel the borders of the Otherworld nearby.”

“Eilidh, I don’t understand. Are you saying this murderer is a kingdom faerie? I thought they were the good guys.”

She snorted. “Good? You would think…” She locked her eyes on Munro’s, and he felt the intensity of her stare. “How is it that he is able to walk the borderlands freely when I cannot?” She paced back and forth on an invisible border, staring south.

Munro followed her line of sight. “What do you mean?” He knew an immense quarry was hidden from view just beyond those trees. Then came the highway, and then nothing but farms and woodland for quite a distance. There would be the odd village tucked along a B-road, but not a lot of civilisation.

“He must be an outcast, like me. None who know the Path of the Azure would be welcome within the kingdom. And yet he is not afraid to continue on.”

“He’s a psychopath.”

“I do not know this word,” she said, flicking her hood back with impatience.

“He must be crazy to do the things he’s done. He’s not going to think like you or I would.”

“Crazy?” She stared at him.

“Isn’t he? How could a sane person commit these murders?”

“There is a difference between evil and insane.”

Munro didn’t understand why Eilidh seemed so annoyed with him all of a sudden. “So he’s not afraid of the kingdom fae. What does it matter?”

“It matters,” she said.

Eilidh suddenly whipped her head around as though she’d heard something. Her eyes widened with shock, and she crouched, ready to leap. “Where are you?” she shouted into the darkness.

“What is it?” Munro asked. “What’s happening?”

“Run!” she cried out. “Go away from here.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

She spun. “No!” she shouted, turning to Munro, her face going alabaster white. She looked like she was about to speak, but then she collapsed.

Munro kept alert and watched the trees as he knelt and touched Eilidh’s neck. Her pulse was strong, faster than he would have expected, but she was alive. Standing and turning slowly, Munro listened. He couldn’t hear a sound from the trees, not so much as the peep of a mouse or a rustle of wind.

He glanced down and saw Eilidh move. She groaned and her eyelids fluttered, but she did not speak.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Cursing that he had no phone and no car, he slipped his arm underneath hers. A few blocks to the north, he would find a pub with a telephone. He could call a taxi from there.

Although she had a slight build, Eilidh was solid and heavier than she first appeared. Rather than throw her over his shoulder, he tried to carry her as though propping up a drunken friend. People would accept the latter without question, but a burly guy carrying a woman fireman-style? That might draw second looks. When a taxi finally picked them up, the driver seemed concerned that he’d have to clean up after a couple of drunks. Munro stuck a twenty in the driver’s hand up front, so at least he wouldn’t worry about them skipping out on the fare.

The night was nearly gone by the time they made it into Munro’s house. Eilidh still had not regained consciousness. She groaned and muttered, but seemed stuck in a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake.

He carried her inside and laid her on his bed, removing her strange leather shoes. He took off his own shoes and shirt and stretched his aching back. It had been a long, tiresome night. He worried about Eilidh, about the case, and about the undiscovered body over at the Grammar.

Exhaustion overtook him. He thought about bunking on the sofa, but wanted to be close in case Eilidh woke up. The last thing he needed was to discover she’d climbed out the window again. He still didn’t know why she’d done that, and they hadn’t spoken of it. When they saw each other at the school, the awkwardness disappeared in the face of other important matters. Now that they were alone and the urgency had passed, he feared the strained feeling would return the second she woke up.

He watched her in the moonlight, her small mouth slightly open and her long white lashes fluttering. He wished he could reach into her nightmare and make it stop. All he could do was hold her hand and whisper goodnight, hoping she would wake in the morning.

A loud ringing caused Eilidh to wake with a start. It took her a moment to recognise Munro’s bedroom. She lay on his bed, fully dressed and alone, although the rumpled linens told her he must have lain next to her.

She heard voices down the hall. Slipping on her shoes, she stepped into the corridor and crept closer to the source of the sounds. She saw Munro’s visitor through the glass-paned interior door that led into the living room, but unfortunately, it kept her from catching every word, even with her excellent hearing.

A man wearing a police uniform sat in one of the large padded seats humans seemed to prefer in their homes. Eilidh could detect the scent of fried food, sweat, and cigarettes lingering near the entryway. The visitor’s voice was low, nearly a whisper, and he seemed serious and tense. Eilidh could not see Munro’s face, because he sat with his back to her, but she noticed how they leaned forward when they talked.

They spoke about the previous night’s death, and it frustrated her that she couldn’t make out more. She didn’t know how humans could stand to live in these box-houses, where they couldn’t feel the sun and rain or hear the wind.

Just as she was calculating whether she would be able to hear better from the kitchen, Munro’s guest stood. When he did, their eyes met. Eilidh panicked and took a step back. How could she be so stupid and slow as to let someone see her here? But if she ran, would that look worse?

The guest gestured toward her and said something to Munro, who stood. She didn’t know what to do, so she waited.

Munro gave her an encouraging smile and beckoned her closer. He opened the door and stepped toward her. Leaning close, he whispered, “Cover your ears.”

In a well-practiced movement, Eilidh pulled up the hood of her light jacket. If the other man thought it odd, he didn’t say anything, although he did seem surprised to find he wasn’t the only guest in Munro’s house.

“This is my friend Eilidh,” Munro said to the other man. “Eilidh, this is my partner, Andrew Getty.”

Getty kept glancing back and forth between Eilidh and Munro, a smile creeping over his face. He extended his hand to Eilidh. “Haley,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

Munro corrected him. “Ay-lee, without an H.”

Eilidh hesitated, unsure what to do with his outstretched hand. She awkwardly slipped her hand into his for a moment, and felt his strength as he squeezed her fingers and gave her hand a firm downward shake.

“Sorry,” Getty said. “Eilidh. Pretty name. Is it French?”

Eilidh couldn’t help but smile. “No,” she said.

After a slight pause, Getty looked at Eilidh then back at Munro with a knowing grin. “I thought you were supposed to be off sick.”

Munro laughed. “Believe me, I’ll be back as soon as they’ll let me. I went to see the doctor this morning. He didn’t like it, but I got him to approve me going back tomorrow. He said I needed more rest because he didn’t like the unexplained seizure, but the labs didn’t show anything, so I was able to convince him to sign off.”

“As long as you aren’t enjoying yourself
too
much,” Getty said.

“You went out this morning?” Eilidh asked and glanced toward the window. It was too overcast for her to tell the time.

“I let you sleep,” he said.

Then Eilidh realised what Getty had been getting at. “Quinton,” she said. “You did not tell me you had a seizure.” She turned to look into his eyes.

He took her hand and enveloped it in his own. “I’m fine. Promise. It’s just something I had to take care of so I can go back to work.” He kissed her cheek.

She nodded, but didn’t believe that was the end of the story. She had seen how disoriented he was when she first saw him in the woods. But she didn’t press him, because she wasn’t sure how much he would want Getty to know. The kiss surprised her as well, but perhaps that too was for Getty’s benefit. From the grins he was giving Munro, Getty obviously thought Eilidh was his lover. For whatever reason, Munro allowed him to nurture the belief. Uncertain of the dynamic between the two men, she decided to let it go. Munro would have his reasons.

Munro thanked Getty for dropping by, an expression Eilidh found both curious and amusing, and for returning his phone and car. As soon as the other man was out the door, Munro let go of Eilidh’s hand. “Sorry about that,” he said. “How are you feeling?” A frown creased his tanned forehead. “You had me worried last night. I wouldn’t have left you this morning if I hadn’t had to go to see the doctor. If I’d missed the appointment, I’d have been dead meat.”

Eilidh brushed aside his concern. “I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted to talk about was what happened to her last night, hearing that voice in her head, feeling wave after wave of the blood shadows until they overwhelmed her and she lost consciousness. The blood faerie had led her into a trap, knowing she would follow. He was angry with her, and his rage and confusion frightened her. She didn’t want to admit to Munro that perhaps he had been right. Perhaps this faerie
was
insane. The thought ran contrary to everything she believed about her race, but his ravings made little sense. Munro wouldn’t understand either, and she needed to talk to someone who would, but she would have to wait for that. She changed the subject. “Did Andrew Getty bring word of the murder?”

Munro nodded. “A group of teenagers were cutting through the field around nine this morning. They found the body and called 999.”

Every time Munro spoke, Eilidh realised how much of human culture was alien to her. She didn’t understand many of the expressions he used, but at least she picked up the gist of it. She also noticed that he minded that those who found the body were teens. At that age, a faerie would be considered little more than an infant, in human terms, and wouldn’t leave their parents’ care. Humans aged faster, and their teenaged offspring were permitted to act nearly as freely as adults.

“So now they know a killer stalks your people.” Eilidh had hoped to find a way to stop the murders before the human police became aware of that. The greater the crimes, the more police would be involved, and the harder her job would be. With their usual minimal influence and her own speed and power, she managed to avoid the police, at least before her first encounter with Munro. But if they started watching vigorously, she would have to be more careful. That would cost her time.

“Did you know this murder was different?” Munro asked.

“Different how?” Eilidh had not gotten close to the body. She’d focused on catching the blood faerie and hadn’t thought much about the victim.

“The heart wasn’t taken.”