Bloodmagic

I buttered one of the leftover rolls from my previous night’s dinner and sat down on the bed with the laptop whilst I crammed it into my mouth. Logging onto the Othernet took a few minutes thanks to my slow internet connection so, whilst I waited, I flicked on the stained kettle to sort myself out a caffeine hit then drummed my fingers against the keys impatiently. I was in a hurry to get up to the Cairn and find these herbs and then pack up my belongings and get out of Dodge.



As soon as I was in, I typed Solus into the search engine but nothing came up. I tried Fae and of course ended up with thousands of entries. Clicking on the first one, a website helpfully entitled Faepaedia, I scanned through its contents.



The Fae are a strong race of daemons that have power over many demsenes. Their true origins have been lost as time has gone by, however they boast of considerable magical powers. Human in appearance, the Fae can transport themselves between planes without the cumbersome requirement for portals. Also known as the Sidhe or the Tuatha De Danann, their homeland has been dubbed Tir Na Nog, a plane that is usually inaccessible to other beings.



Upon Tir Na Nog exist two sections of Fae society: Seelie and Unseelie. The Seelie Court is headed by the Summer Queen, whose palace is located at the Shining Hall, whilst the Unseelie Court, whose ruler is the Winter King, can be found at the Soul Barrow.



In lore it is believed that the Seelie Fae are ‘good’ and Unseelie Fae are ‘bad’. The reality is considerably more complicated and both Seelie and Unseelie are known for causing havoc and destruction. Seelie Fae, however, tend to be less inclined to truly malignant mischief. Both Courts are considerably at odds with each other, despite the role of the Unseelie Fae in protecting all of Tir Na Nog and the balance that each provides the other. Darkness cannot exist without light and summer does not exist without winter.



Hmmm. Nothing particularly new or unsurprising although Solus had seemed offended when I’d suggested that he was Unseelie. If this othersite was accurate, then surely it was actually the task of the Unseelie Fae to decide whether or not I was a threat, not the Seelies. I pondered that for a moment and then shrugged. I couldn’t find anything about Solus himself and, whilst the absence of evidence was not evidence itself, it did suggest that perhaps I shouldn’t be getting my knickers into too much of a twist. He was probably just a Solitary Fae rather than a member of the Trooping Fae, the aristocracy of the Faeries. But it wasn’t paranoia if they really were after you. I glanced around my little bedsit and estimated that it would take no more than thirty minutes to pack up my belongings and go. I was paid up in rent until the end of next week; I’d just have to swallow the loss in income. It would probably take a couple of hours to get up to Clava Cairns, say an hour to find enough blisterwort for Mrs Alcoon, a couple of hours back and perhaps to pass on my apologies and goodbyes to her - and then I could be on my way out of town by early evening.



I found some images of the little plant so that I would know exactly what I was looking for. Opening up one of the image sites fully, I scanned through the information there detailing the herb’s medicinal qualities. Apparently it was good for settling nausea, nerves and high temperatures, as well as reducing the impact of red fever. The site cautioned against using it whilst pregnant, however. I snorted slightly and closed the laptop lid, leaving it on top of the bed where I could grab it quickly later along with the rest of my stuff. Then I hooked up my old trusty backpack and left.



Chapter Five



If I hadn’t been in such a rush to get back so I could say my goodbyes to Inverness then I’d probably have run up all the way up to Clava Cairns in my jogging gear. At least working up a sweat might have staved off the cold somewhat and it would have given me the chance to start to recoup some of my earlier fitness levels. As it was though I was itching to get this last errand done and out of the way so I could get on my way. I hopped onto the local bus to try to cut down on some time. Typically, however, despite the almost complete lack of passengers, the bus seemed to stop every ten metres at every single bus shelter along the way. I could feel my irritation rising and annoyed heat coiling itself around my intestines. I was tempted to march up to the driver and demand that he move just a little bit faster but I had the sense that if I tried anything like that he’d deliberately take his time and fall behind schedule.



After twenty-five minutes of continual stopping and starting, a greasy looking guy clambered onboard, huffing and puffing as he lurched up the aisle. There was the distinct reek of stale alcohol emanating out of his pores and I tried to breathe through my mouth and lean away from him as he passed. The memory of Arnie’s pub was still a little raw and the stench coming off the man reminded me of everything about the place. Not that I missed it of course but at least then I hadn’t been bothered by dangerous Fae or slightly clairvoyant old women or threatening Voices.



Just when I thought I was out of the danger zone and he’d passed me by, however, he spun around and jabbed a finger in my direction. “You! You are burning, little girl.”



I shied away and glared at him, trying to ignore the sudden thudding beat of my heart. “Get away from me, little man,” I hissed back at him. “I don’t know you and I don’t know what you are on about.”



I desperately tried to work out what he was. Definitely not Fae or pack but he could sense my blood. Vampire? But, no, it was still too light outside despite the midwinter gloom that hung over the sky. He could be warlock, I supposed. Would my silver work against him? I cast a nervous glance up at the driver and wondered if I could disable the guy without appearing to have really hurt him. We were nearing a bend so when the driver’s attention was completely on the road I thought I could direct a hit at his shins and make a dash for it. The bus doors were automatic but I could probably wrench them open without too much difficulty. This depended on the whisky-sodden creature in front of me though. If he possessed some serious power – and to sense my blood fire he probably had a fair amount already – then a little kick wouldn’t do much to get him out of the way. I started to reach up to loosen the silver needles from hair, just in case. They couldn’t do any harm and it was just possible that silver could be a deterrent for him.



As I did so, however, he spoke again, with a hacking cackle that hinted at a few too many cigarettes burning up his lungs over the passage of time. “Ow! You’re just too hot for words. Will you marry me?”



He dramatically fell to his knees and held out a hand. The bus driver called out from the front with the tone of someone who’d seen all this before. “Jack, stop bothering the young lady and get to a seat.”



The tension immediately fell away from my body. He was just a drunk, trying his luck. I’d never have made this kind of mistake when I was back with the pack in Cornwall. In fact I usually prided myself on being to read people’s body language and intentions. All this paranoia and looking over my shoulder was doing me absolutely no good whatsoever. I was jumping at shadows and harmless locals. Jack, for his part, staggered to his feet, and with the expression on his face of someone who had been terribly wronged weaved his way to the back seat of the bus where he promptly lay down and began snoring loudly. The bus driver shrugged at me apologetically in the mirror.



I sighed deeply and pinched off a headache. Goddamnit. I really was reading too much into things – into everything. Solus was real but perhaps my over-active imagination was working over-time to make me stupidly jumpy at everything else. Mrs Alcoon was probably exactly what she seemed: a little old lady who ran a failing bookshop and had a penchant for nasty herbal tea. In fact even Corrigan’s Voice had been so faint earlier today that maybe I’d even imagined that too. I had to get a grip on reality. Once I re-located somewhere else, somewhere I was sure I’d be safe, then I’d have to do my best to stop freaking out at every little thing.



Fortunately, a few minutes later, the bus pulled up at the stop that I wanted. It was still a couple of miles’ hike to the Cairns themselves, but the path was well worn and clearly marked so I knew it wouldn’t take me long. I shifted my backpack to a comfortable position and tied the straps in front to avoid too much unnecessary bounce and took off at a jog.



The path wound itself around some low lying hills sprinkled with lavender coloured gorse bushes and sprigs of white heather. Occasionally I’d catch the scent of the flowers, but mostly what I smelled was good old-fashioned fresh air. I filled my lungs deeply and stretched out my stride, regulating my breathing to match my gait and enjoying the moment. For the first time in a long time I managed to completely empty my mind of my stresses, worries and loneliness and just savoured the moment. A couple of hikers stopped to let me past along the route, nodding greetings as I whipped past them, but for the rest of the trip I was alone. It had been far too long since I’d felt this close to the natural world and I appreciated every moment.



I rounded a bend and then, far too quickly, the Clava Cairns were in front of me. At first glance there wasn’t a huge amount to see – some standing stones were sprinkled here and there in a pretty clearing, whilst smaller rocks were piled together to form largish circular mounds. The contrast of the mossy grey cairns against the brilliant emerald green of the grass and trees was fairly striking, but the grey skies and cold wind rather marred the effect. I moved closer to the nearest circle and peered at it. There was a raised of lip of stones all around the outside, and I noticed that the rocks seem to have been chosen for colour. Interesting. The ones away from me were definitely redder and larger whilst the ones by my feet appeared smaller and whitish. I wondered idly whether that was by accident or design. One never entirely knew for sure with these kind of ancient burial grounds. One thing I did know though was that whatever bodies the Cairns had entombed, they would definitely be human. Any being connected with the Otherworld used cremation to dispose of their dead; the risk of anything using some form of twisted necromancy to make nefarious use of the bodies left behind was just too strong. I shuddered slightly at the thought. At least necromancy was a power that seemed to have fallen through the mists of time. Much like the Draco Wyr, my traitorous mind whispered before I pushed that thought away without examining it any further.