Blood Faerie - India Drummond Page 0,2

in front of her. If she’d wanted to, she could have reached out and traced a finger along his laces, or lashed out and broken his ankles, depending on her mood.

She had no desire to hurt the human and knew if she did, it would only bring more police. She dismissed the idea that he might capture her. Humans were bigger, yes, and stronger, of course, but Eilidh was not defenceless. She hid only to protect her secrets.

Most fae could pass for human on cursory inspection, and depending on their colouring, some even at close range. But no human could stare deep into her eyes and not sense the Otherworld. The locals had an expression, “a fey look.” It wasn’t too far off the mark. Her white hair could be a wig or dye. But her eyes had flecks of silver that swam with the magic of her people. Her blood was pure and her lineage ancient.

The police officer’s feet turned after a few long moments. He walked up and down the car park, nearly all the way to the old mill. Eilidh didn’t move. She knew how to be patient. She’d stalked both deer and men for hours. Eventually he gave up and returned to St Paul’s Square. When he did, she followed in the shadows.

***

Cridhe trembled, his eyes fixed to the south, his blood coursing with power. The tension in his limbs relaxed as he released the darkness that hid him. When that beautiful warrior had spoken her enchantment, she’d teased the edges of his power. It had aroused him even further. Considering that his skin already tingled and every sense, both physical and magical, was heightened from the kill, it shocked him that any sight could distract him. He anticipated the delights to come later that night and recalled the unbearable pleasure of every past sacrifice. Still her memory tugged his attention. But why? He’d heard of the outcast, naturally. He had not expected to encounter her or to be both pursued by and drawn to her.

A siren started some miles in the distance and drew closer. How could she stand living among them? Under the best of circumstances, he loathed the noises humans made with their cars and trains, but tonight the wail screamed in his thrumming ears. He had to get away from the city to finish what he’d started. Cridhe had little difficulty evading the kingdom Watchers. His blood magic closed their ears and eyes to his presence.

He inhaled deeply and let the scent of fresh blood fill his nose. His fingers went to the pouch that hung across his body, and caressed the human heart that still beat through the power of his blood magic. His essence throbbed with vitality so fierce he caught his breath. Suddenly consumed with hunger, Cridhe turned and left the city behind.

Chapter 2

Police Constable Quinton Munro stopped dead in his tracks. He could have sworn he heard tapping behind him, but when he turned, he saw no one.

“Spooked, eh?”

Munro sought out the speaker, expecting a ribbing from his partner, but even though Getty’s voice was full of bravado, his face was pale and shaken. They’d been first on the scene. “It’s a dead vicious one, that,” Munro said.

“Aye,” Getty agreed.

Munro fought the urge to turn again. He might have convinced himself he’d imagined the sounds, if it weren’t for a prickling on the back of his skull. He felt as though he was being watched. Things like that happened, and he knew not to dismiss it, no matter how tempting it might be. His sergeant said he was both the unluckiest bastard on the force and the luckiest. The other coppers called him haunted. He’d like to chalk it up to luck, but luck was only supposed to sneak up on you every once in a while, to explain the inexplicable. It didn’t hang around your neck like a bloody millstone.

So nobody was surprised when Munro called in that he was on scene within moments of an emergency treble-nine call. When he’d told Getty to take a left off Atholl while returning to the station after a domestic, Getty didn’t argue. In fact, his partner didn’t seem to think twice. Munro had a difficult time not telling him to hurry.

Sometimes a bad feeling nagged. Other times a hunch would twist his gut. This one screamed in his head and clawed the insides of his eyes.

Sergeant Hallward barked his name as he approached the Police Do Not Cross tape