Blood of Destiny (Witch Fairy #6) Page 5

  It doesn’t take long for us to pick up where we left off before Ambriel interrupted us. I squash the idea that he could be lingering around, watching us. Wrapping my arms around Kallen, I roll us over so I’m on top of him. Kissing a line down his jaw, I bring myself up so that I can keep going down his neck to his chest. Savoring the feel of his lean, muscled torso, I continue my downward progress until I reach the waistband of his jeans. My fingers find the button, and with fumbling fingers, I finally undo it. A low groan deep in his throat tells me he’s not going to stop me out of fear of going too far. I would much rather do this than ask a rock where I can find Fallen Angels. I wonder if that’s what I’m supposed to do? That would be so stupid. ‘Hey, rock, where’s the first Angel?’

  Have I mentioned that I should think things through a little better sometimes? First, I’m surprised that I even had a rationale thought about the rock while I was so close to getting Kallen naked again. Second, ending up kissing a pillow doesn’t even compare to your girlfriend opening up some big, black hole that is now sucking us down into darkness at about a thousand miles per hour. It’s a good thing I had hold of Kallen’s jeans. At least I can hang onto him as we fall. Not that that will do us any good, I’m sure, but it’s nice not to be alone when falling into a void created by an Angel rock. And when we fell, the bed didn’t fall with us, so I really hope we land on something soft.

  Chapter 6

  You know how in some movies, when characters are falling, it takes a long time to reach the bottom and they eventually stop panicking? Yeah, this isn’t like that. All too soon, I see the ground. And it doesn’t look soft.

  “Hold on,” Kallen says, trying to position himself so that he lands first. Aaw, he’s so sweet. I think this is a good time for magic, though. I pull some at the same time he does, which is kind of dangerous because we don’t know where we are and how strong the magic is here. But, I do know that I’m about to squash Kallen into a pancake. It’s worth the risk.

  Turns out the magic isn’t as strong as it is in the Fae realm where it’s purer, but it’s strong enough. Our downward momentum is eased by a magic filled bean bag of both of our making. Invisible, but very effective.

  When we’ve come to a complete stop, we slowly let our magic go and we land softly on the ground. Ever conscious of my modesty, Kallen quickly replaces our shirts as we scramble to get up to look around. Wherever we are, it’s cold. I appreciate the coat he just made me as well.

  We have to watch our footing, because we’re on a large, sort of flat, rock with a bunch of little rocks on it. These little rocks are loose, and as we turn around to look in every direction to try to get our bearings, they are trying hard to make us lose our footing. Kallen has had to keep me from falling twice already. After the fourth time spinning in a useless circle, I look up at Kallen. “Where are we?”

  He shrugs. “I have no idea. This landscape does not look familiar to me.”

  I frown. “Does that mean we’re not in the Fairy realm anymore?”

  Again, he shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine, I am afraid.”

  Great, he picks now not to have all the answers. Looking over the edge of the rock to the steep cliff and water below, I ask, “How do we get down?”

  “I believe we will have to fly or teleport.”

  Yeah, I probably should have thought of that. I don’t think changing into my new Pegasus form is a good idea, though. I have enough trouble with my footing with only two legs. Teleporting it is, then. “I wish I could teleport us to where this Angel is supposed to be.”

  The next thing I know, we’re standing in front of what looks like a bar. Not the kind a ballet dancer would use. The kind where people sit and drink beer all day. I have no idea how we got here.

  Kallen’s brows are furrowed as he looks down at me. “How did you know to bring us here?”

  My turn to shrug. “I didn’t. Maybe the rock brought us?” Taking a better look at our surroundings, we’re on a well-worn dirt road with a string of attached buildings on one side. The other side is rock, dirt, and a few sprigs of grass which is mostly brownish gray. This place is definitely not a victim of overcrowding. There can’t be very many people around, or Fairies or Witches or Fallen Angels for that matter, because the street looks virtually deserted. “Should we go inside?”

  “If nothing else, it will be warmer.” There’s a biting wind here that is clearly saying it isn’t going to be getting any hotter out here.

  Kallen walks to the door and slowly pushes it open. Outside, it’s not sunny. The sky is overcast and gray, the clouds are dark, and you can practically see the wall of a storm moving in. The inside of the bar makes the outside look positively sunny and bright. I blink several times before I can even make out the stools and tables close to us. I think it’ll be another few minutes before I can see any further into the interior.

  “Are ye crazy, lassie? Close the damn door!”

  I have no idea who just said that, but he’s right. Cold air is quickly pushing the warm air right out of the bar. Kallen closes the door behind us and puts a hand on my lower back to gently push me in the direction of the voice.

  After we walk a few steps, I can see a little better. There are four people sitting against the bar, two men at a table playing cards, and another man with a sketch pad sitting alone in a corner. He looks comfortable with his pencil and ale. A lot more comfortable than I feel right now. Moving closer to the bar, my mind is racing to figure out what I’m going to say. ‘Hey, have you seen a Fallen Angel around here somewhere’ probably isn’t going to cut it.

  “Ye come o’er today? I didn’t think the ferry was running with that storm rollin’ in,” the bartender says. He has an accent that to me sounds Irish. Not a strong Irish, more like he was English and moved to Ireland.

  “It made a special trip for us,” Kallen says smoothly. I try hard not to look as surprised as the bartender.

  “Then ye mus’ be freezing half to death. Sit down and I’ll get ye some coffee.”

  I’m not a big coffee drinker, but that’ll give me some more time to think about what I’m going to say. Kallen waits for me to take a seat at the bar and then he sits down next to me, his leg firmly next to mine in a show of support.

  It only takes a minute for the coffee to be set in front of us. “What could possibly be so damn important tha’ ye faired the bloody ocean with a storm rollin’ in?” the gruff bartender asks. He’s around sixty with a wind chapped face and hair that’s thick and mostly gray, but there’s enough red to show that he used to have an impressive head of red hair. He also has an impressive middle that’s pressed against the bar as he wipes the surface around us.

  “Um, we’re looking for someone,” I say. Even to my ears, I don’t sound confident about it.

  “We are seeking a lost relative,” Kallen says. “We have tracked him to this island.”

  It didn’t really hit me that we’re on an island. An island we’re not familiar with, nor do we know what realm it’s in, and with a storm rolling in. Great.

  “What’s ‘is name?” the bartender asks.

  “We don’t know,” I say, which earns me a snarky look from Kallen when the bartender looks at me doubtfully.

  “We believe he has changed his name,” Kallen says, trying to fix my blunder. Then again, he’s assuming we’re meeting a man. I’ve met plenty of female Angels. Now, I’m annoyed by his sexist assumption. Okay, maybe I’m reading a little too much into it, but I’m nervous.

  The bartender laughs. “Ye don’ e’en know the bloke’s name? How do ye plan to find ‘im then?” Good question.

  Kallen comes to the rescue again. “We will spend some time here and hope that family likenesses will give him away.” Wow, he said that with a straight face. Impressive, considering the only family likeness will be that he used to have wings and I have part time wings. Not exactly telling signs of kinship.

  “Ye can try the Tory Inn down the road some. There shou’ be some rooms to let since
the tourist season is ova.” An Inn. Tourist season? Um, I’m pretty sure now that we’re back in my realm. The honking of a car horn outside confirms that. Not to mention the telephone on the wall in the corner.

  I don’t miss the same realization flitting across Kallen’s face before he puts on his picture perfect poker face again. “Is it far from here?” he asks.

  “Nah, jus’ down the road a bit. I hope ye brought some warmer clothes than that, though.” He looks around. “Did ye leave your luggage outside?”

  “Yes,” Kallen said and I feel him pulling magic. I’m positive a full set of luggage just appeared outside the door. “We will head out as soon as we finish our coffee.”

  Our coffee that we will have to pay for. In whatever kind of money they use in Ireland. Crap. This keeps getting better and better. I wonder if I can use my magic to make some? But if I did, I’m pretty sure that it would disappear as soon as I pulled my magic back. We’ll have the same problem at the Inn. Except there, they’ll probably want a credit card. I wonder if Kallen has thought about this yet. “How much do you think a room at the Inn will cost?” I ask.

  The bartender chuckles. “On a tight budget, are ye? Nan’ll fix ye up right. Might even let ye work for the room since it’s off season.”

  Hmm, that wouldn’t be so bad. Kallen could get a lot done using his magic and his muscles. I smile up at him and he gets a suspicious gleam in his eye. Geez. Where’s the trust in this relationship?

  “On second thought, I could use a little help around here me’self. My arthritis is acting up somethin’ fierce.” He looks Kallen over. “Ye look strong enough to lug some kegs up and down the stairs.” Looking at me, he says, “Ye could do some light cleaning and tending bar. What do ye say?”

  “Tryin’ te get more time wit’ Nan yeself, eh Patrick?” one of the toothless gentlemen at the end of the bar says. Then he cackles in a cute, crazy old man way. Well, his mother would probably think it was cute, anyway. If she was still alive.

  Patrick grins. “I could use a few mo’ minutes in the lass’s company.”

  Alrighty then. Didn’t need that mental image. But, we do need his generosity. “Do you have somewhere we can sleep?”

  He gives my ring finger a quick glance. Where he finds the left hand-fasting band on it. And the one on Kallen’s. He shakes his head. “Ye two are awfully young to be married. I have a room out back with a cot ye can share. Won’ be the most comfortable night sleep ye e’er had, but it’ll do for the little sleep ye probably be gettin’ nowadays.” Then he gives us a knowing grin that makes me want to cringe and crawl under my stool. My face is beet red and I have suddenly become the day’s entertainment in the bar apparently, since everyone’s now laughing. Even Kallen is trying to hide a tiny smile. I can’t do anything about the rest of them, but I can elbow Kallen in the ribs. Which I do. It just makes him grin. It’s not until I start to pull magic that he sobers. Quickly.

  “Patrick, you’re embarrassing the girl,” the man at the corner table says. “Sorry, lass, you won’t find the best manners around here this time of year. Everyone is winding down from the tourist season and buckling down for a long, hard winter.”

  The man gets up from his table and comes to the bar. Holding out his hand, he says, “I’m Ray.” Ray’s accent is one hundred percent American. I would say he’s about ten years older than me and he has a stockier build than Kallen’s, but he appears to be all muscle. He’s tall, with light brown hair and blue eyes that are the color of a stormy ocean. They’re not pretty, per se, but boy are they sexy. I could stare into them all day. Which I’m doing right now.

  I put my hand out to his. “I’m Xandra and this is Kallen. My husband,” I add awkwardly.

  Ray holds his hand out to my now annoyed fiancé. “Nice to meet you, Kallen.” Kallen shakes his hand and if I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of them are having some sort of strength contest with their hands. Ray is the first to give, but he does it with a grin, saying with those white teeth now showing that he did it because he was amused, not because he lost.

  There’s something about Ray that’s distracting. I guess I felt it when we first walked in, but now it’s like a buzzing in my head. Finally, my brain kicks in and I want to slap my forehead. I don’t, though. The buzz I’m feeling is from being near a magical creature. Ray is some sort of magical being. I wish I could tell the difference between Witch, Fairy and Angel magic. It would come in handy in situations like this.

  Without even thinking about it, I start pulling magic again as my anxiety grows. Ray’s grin grows wider. “Patrick, bring my new friends more coffee before you put them to work. They’re freezing and it’s making them on edge.”

  “You got it, Ray,” Patrick says as he lifts the coffee pot from its warmer on the back of the bar. He puts a little more coffee in each of our cups even though neither of us has touched them.

  Ray pulls out the stool next to mine, close enough for our legs to touch, and I can feel Kallen tense on the other side of me. He puts a protective arm around my waist. If it wouldn’t raise eyebrows with Ray’s friends, I think he would pull me closer to him.

  Tilting my head, I look up at the cocky magical being next to me. Who is he? Is he the Angel we’re looking for? Or just some Witch jerk who wants to test me. I guess we’ll see. I’m not big on waiting, though. Using the magic I had already pulled, I sweep his chair out from under him. He tumbles backwards onto the floor with a loud thud; followed by laughter from everyone in the room except Kallen and me.

  “What’s the matter, Ray. Nippin’ too much at the bottle today?” Patrick asks.

  Ray stands up and wipes himself off. With grin still in place, he says, “I think you spiked my ale today, Patrick.” He rights his stool and sits down again. He looks over and gives me a wink, which makes Kallen’s arm tighten around me. Okay, he’s either the Fallen Angel we’re looking for, or he’s a Witch with a really laid back personality.

  Patrick throws the rag he’s been using to wipe the bar in a bin and says to Kallen, “Migh’ as well get started. The sooner I teach ye the ropes, the sooner I can ge’ down to Nan’s.”

  I scrunch my brows together. “I’m not complaining, but you just met us and you’re okay leaving us in charge of your bar?”

  Patrick laughs from his belly. “Lass, ye’re stuck on an island in the Atlantic Ocean. Not many places for ye to hide if ye get sticky fingers.”

  Good point. Even though technically, we’re not stuck here. I smile up at him. “Okay, show me how to pour a beer.” My first job is in Ireland where I’m chasing a Fallen Angel because I didn’t want anyone to know I had sex. How strange is my life going to get? I groan inwardly. Every time I think something like that, things get worse. Maybe I’ll be lucky this time. Probably not.

  Half an hour later, Kallen is hauling heavy stuff up and down the cellar stairs and I’ve served three ales to the old guys at the bar. I’ve poured six, though. It’s a lot trickier than it looks to pour ale into a pint glass without it all foaming up and spilling out. Patrick has gone to see ‘his Nan,’ as he calls her. Ray has simply enjoyed the show from the bar stool that I’m tempted to make him fall off from again.

  “Tell me more about this long lost relative of yours,” Ray says, as I attempt to pour another drink.

  I scowl in his direction. “Why do you want to know?” Yes, I’m defensive, but my hands are going to smell like beer for the rest of my life if I keep soaking them like this. I don’t think it’s a smell I could get used to. Ever.

  He shrugs. “Perhaps I know him.”

  Yeah, because it’s probably him. “Okay, we’re looking for someone who has similar…talents as we do.”

  Ray’s brows lift. “And what talents would those be?” Then he winks at me. “Whatever they are, I believe I would like to discover more of your talents.”

  I narrow my eyes in his direction. “Do you like sitting on the stool better than sitting on the floor?”

  A couple of the old
guys down the bar cackle. “Watch out, Ray. She’s a feisty lass,” one of them says.

  Ray’s eyes haven’t left mine. Wow, I still can’t get over the color of blue his eyes are. “That she is, Seamus. That she is.”

  A loud thump makes me jump. Kallen just dropped a keg onto the floor with unnecessary force. I give him a questioning look and all I get in return is a sour one. What’s his deal?

  I don’t get a chance to ask him right away, because the door opens and three guys come in complaining about the bitter cold. Which has travelled as far as the bar already since they are taking their time closing the door. Now I know why Patrick yelled at us when we came in.

  Two of the guys are probably around my dad’s age or older. The third is probably around Ray’s age, maybe a little younger. With all the red and reddish blonde hair around here, there’s no denying we’re in Ireland. The younger guy is tall and has a body that was probably once solid muscle, but may have turned a bit to flab in the last couple of years. His nose has been broken at least once, and his teeth have enough gaps to resemble a slot machine. His hair is cut into a stark, military cut and the scars on his face and neck make me not want to know how he got them.