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 actually 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. Claribel knew about her and Kheelan. “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 was still 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.