Blood and Mistletoe Read online

  Blood and Mistletoe

  By E.J. Stevens

  Blood and Mistletoe

  E.J. Stevens

  Kindle Edition

  Published by Sacred Oaks Press

  Copyright 2012 E.J. Stevens

  All rights reserved

  Publisher’s Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Pronunciation Guide

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Pronunciation Guide

  Pronunciations are given phonetically for names and races found in Shadow Sight and Blood and Mistletoe, the first novel and novella of the Ivy Granger series. Alternate names and nicknames have been provided in parentheses. In some cases, the original folklore has been changed to suit the city of Harborsmouth and its environs.

  Athame: ah-thaw-may

  Barguest: bar-guyst (Bargheist, Black Dog)

  Blaosc: blee-usk

  Brownie: brow-nee (Bwca, Urisk, Hearth Faerie, Domestic Hobgoblin)

  Bugbear: bug-bayr (Bug-a-boo, Boggle-bo)

  Bwca: bu-ka (see Brownie)

  The Cailleach: kall-ahk (The Blue Hag, Cailleach Bheur, Queen of Winter, Crone, Veiled One, Winter Hag)

  Cat Sidhe: kat shee or kayth shee (Faerie Cat, Cait Shith, Cait Sith)

  Ceffyl Dŵr: Keff-eel Door (Kelpie King)

  Clurichaun: kloor-ih-kon (clobhair)

  Daeva: day-va

  Demon: dee-mon

  Each Uisge: erkh ooshka (Water Horse)

  Faerie: fayr-ee (Fairy, Sidhe, Fane, Wee Folk, The Gentry, People of Peace, Themselves, Sidhe, Fae, Fay, Good Folk)

  Fear Dearg: far dar-rig (The Red Man)

  Forneus: Fore-nee-uss (Demon, Great Marquis of Hell)

  Galliel: Gal-ee-el (Unicorn)

  Ghoul: gool (Revenant)

  Glaistig: glass-tig (The Green Lady)

  Griffin: griff-in (Gryphon, Griffon)

  Grindylow: grin-dee-loh

  Hamadryad: ha-ma-dry-ad (Tree Nymph)

  Hippocampus: hip-po-cam-pus

  Hob-o-Waggle Hob-oh-wag-l (Brownie, son of Wag-at-the-Wa)

  Jenny Greenteeth: Jen-nee Green-teeth (Water Hag)

  Kelpie: kel-pee (Water Horse, Nyaggle)

  Lamia: lay-me-a

  Leanansídhe: lan-awn-shee (Lhiannan Sidhe, Leanhaun Shee, Leannan Sìth, Fairy Mistress)

  Leprechaun: le-pre-khan (leipreachán)

  Mab: Mab (Unseelie Queen)

  Melusine: Mel-oo-seen

  Mermaid: mer-mayd (male Merman)

  Merry Dancer: mer-ree dan-ser (Fir Chlis)

  Murúch: mer-ook (Merrow, Moruadh, Murúghach)

  Oberon: O-ber-on (Seelie King)

  Peg Powler: Peg Pow-ler (Peg Powler of the Trees, Water Hag)

  Peri: per-ee

  Pixie: pix-ee (Pisgie)

  Pooka: poo-ka (Phooka, Pouka, Púca, Pwca)

  Redcap: red-kap (red cap)

  Saytr: say-tur

  Selkie: sel-kee

  Shellycoat: shell-ee-cote

  Sidhe: shee (see Faerie)

  Succubus: suk-you-bus (male Incubus)

  Titania: Ti-tayn-ee-ah (Seelie Queen)

  Troll: trol

  Tylwyth Teg: till-with teeg (Seelie Court)

  Unicorn: you-ne-korn

  Vampire: vam-pi-r (Undead)

  Will-o-the-Wisp: Wil-o-tha-Wisp (Gyl Burnt Tayle, Jack o’ Lantern, Wisp, Ghost Light, Friar’s Lantern, Corpse Candle, Hobbledy, Aleya, Hobby Lantern, Chir Batti, Faerie Fire, Spunkies, Min Min Light, Luz Mala, Pinket, Ellylldan, Spook Light, Ignus Gatuus, Orbs, Boitatá, and Hinkypunk)

  Introduction

  Welcome to Harborsmouth, where monsters walk the streets unseen by humans…except those with second sight.

  Whether visiting our modern business district or exploring the cobblestone lanes of the Old Port quarter, please enjoy your stay. When you return home, do tell your friends about our wonderful city—just leave out any supernatural details.

  Don’t worry—most of our guests never experience anything unusual. Otherworlders, such as faeries, vampires, and ghouls, are quite adept at hiding within the shadows. Many are also skilled at erasing memories. You may wake in the night screaming, but you won’t recall why. Be glad that you don’t remember—you are one of the fortunate ones.

  If you do encounter something unnatural, we recommend the services of Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective. Co-founder of Private Eye detective agency, Ivy Granger is a relatively new member of our small business community. Her offices can be found on Water Street, in the heart of the Old Port.

  Miss Granger has a remarkable ability to receive visions by the act of touching an object. This skill is useful in her detective work, especially when locating lost items. Whether you are looking for a lost brooch or missing persons, no job is too big or too small for Ivy Granger—but you may be on her waiting list for awhile. Hopefully you are not in dire need of her immediate services. After her role in recent events, where she was instrumental in saving our city, Miss Granger’s business is booming.

  If matters are particularly grim, we can also provide, upon request, a list of highly skilled undertakers. If you are in need of their services, then we also kindly direct you to Harborsmouth Cemetery Realty. It’s never too early to contact them, since we have a booming “housing” market. Demand is quite high for a local plot—there are always people dying for a place to stay.

  Happy holidays!

  "If I could work my will," said Scrooge indignantly, "Every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart."

  --Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  Chapter 1

  I woke to the smell of gingerbread and coffee. Too bad the two were one and the same.

  “This is why I hate the holidays,” I muttered into my cup. “Who messes around with a perfectly good cup of coffee?”

  “You’re just grumpy because Ceffyl stood you up last night,” Jinx said.

  “Well, it was a lame excuse,” I said.

  I dropped my gloved hands into my lap, staring through a sheet of sleep mussed hair at the snowmen that danced maniacally around my pajama pants. I was pouting. Damn, I never pout, but I had been excited about our date last night. Which in retrospect was silly—I hate Christmas.

  But this was my first holiday season with a boyfriend and I had wanted to do all of the normal date stuff. Instead, I sat home and watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for
the gazillionth time. Jinx had suggested wearing the Christmas pj’s we’d exchanged as gifts last year. I traced the smiling snowmen with a gloved finger, wishing I could be that happy for once.

  Ceff had promised to take me to the tree lighting in Fountain Square. I didn’t like crowds, and usually avoided them like the plague, but Ceff had lured me with promises of hot chocolate and my weight in peppermint cookies. He also said he had a present for me.

  My heart thumped and I shivered as chill fingers of fear and anticipation ran up my spine. What kind of gift would a kelpie king give me?

  Would it be something pretty, romantic, practical, magical—would it drive me insane?

  I discovered early in life that touching unknown objects could lead to terrifying visions. I was nine years old when my psychic gift reared its ugly, traumatizing head. I’ve been wary of receiving gifts ever since.

  Strong emotions leave behind an imprint. People like me, with a talent for psychometry, can tap into that psychic imprint and see glimpses of an object or persons’ past.

  Psychometry requires physical contact, thank Mab. That’s the reason why I wear gloves twenty-four-seven. It’s definitely not a fashion statement—Jinx is the fashionista in this friendship. I had learned the hard way that covering my hands helped to keep me sane.

  Too bad an impermeable, full body suit wasn’t practical. In fact, it would be potentially fatal. I may be part fae, but my human half still has to breathe. Plus, Jinx would never let me leave our loft apartment dressed in a full body condom. That would be breaking too many fashion rules. Alas, I should have been a pooka.

  “Pfft,” Jinx said with a shrug. “Ceffyl is king of the kelpies, give the guy a break. I’m sure he isn’t thrilled to be swimming in the freezing cold ocean while negotiating boring hunting treaties between kelpie and selkie tribes.”

  It was true. Ceffyl hadn’t been happy about cancelling our date. He’d broken a length of wooden railing in frustration when the call came in.

  *****

  We’d been walking along the waterfront under the stars, our new favorite pastime, when Ceff had stopped to stare intently at the bay. Ceff leaned casually against the railing, but I could hear his teeth grinding over the lapping sound of the waves.

  A head surfaced near the docks, bobbing like a fishing buoy on the gentle waves of the harbor. The water fae waved its webbed hands and began speaking to Ceff in a high pitched chatter that sounded similar to the squeaks and chirps of dolphin song. The words were unintelligible to my ears, but the message was clear. Ceff was needed elsewhere.

  And when duty calls, kelpie kings have to listen. He wasn’t happy about it. Storm clouds passed across Ceff’s dark green eyes, making them shift to black, and he held the railing in a white knuckled grip.

  Ceff nodded once toward the bay and, with a strange bobbing bow, the water fae messenger returned to the dark waters from which he came. Ceff continued to stare into the harbor as if he could alter the message the tides had brought him by will alone. I held my breath and waited.

  “I regret that I must cancel our date for tomorrow evening,” Ceff said.

  His voice sounded calm, like a gentle burbling stream, but the shattered railing beneath his hands told another story.

  “But it’s the tree lighting,” I said. “It only happens once a year. Can’t they wait one day?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he said. “My people and a neighboring selkie tribe are both insistent that if they do not gain exclusive fishing rights over one small patch of ocean, then they will starve to death. It is foolishness, and I suspect the truth behind the dispute will have little to do with food supplies, but I must go before a small argument spirals into a war between the water fae. It is my duty.”

  “Do you really think they’d wind up killing each other over a patch of water and some fish?” I asked.

  “Fae wars have been started over much less,” he said. “But do not worry. Selkies are some of the most peaceful of our kind. I am sure I can negotiate a treaty and return before the Winter Solstice.”

  “Okay,” I said lamely. “At least we can still make it to Kaye’s solstice celebration.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Have you enquired about the dress code? Witches can be very particular about their festivals and ritual gatherings, especially the eight annual Sabbats.”

  Kaye had mentioned the dress code for her party alright. I felt my face burn.

  “Clothing is optional,” I said. I shook my head. “I’m going to need therapy after this party, but Kaye has done a lot to help me over the past few months. I can’t turn down her invitation.”

  “Madam O’Shaye has done much for us all,” he said.

  True, Kaye did help to save the entire city of Harborsmouth. The least we could do was attend her holiday ritual.

  “Well, don’t get too excited about the dress code,” I said. “I’m wearing clothing. Not really a big fan of public nudity, or hypothermia.”

  “I can think of ways to keep warm,” he said. His eyes smoldered, shifting from black to bright luminous green.

  I took an involuntary step back. Not at Ceff’s otherness, I actually thought his glowing eyes were sexy, but at the threat of what they promised.

  Ceff and I had been dating for a few months now, but we hadn’t actually touched yet. No hand holding or stolen kisses in the dark. I had already experienced traumatic visions from handling a piece of Ceff’s bridle and wasn’t quite ready to risk touching the man himself. Coming into physical contact with something old always increased the risk of multiple visions, and Ceff was ancient. What would it be like to kiss an immortal kelpie king?

  I wasn’t ready to find out, yet.

  I dug in my pocket, covering my retreat by checking my phone. No new messages. That in itself was a Christmas miracle.

  Ever since I agreed to take Forneus’ first case, and helped to protect the city against invading, bloodthirsty each uisge, our phones had been ringing off the hook. Jinx had cases scheduled for every day of the week going into the New Year. Business at Private Eye investigations was booming.

  Apparently the fae who lived in Harborsmouth were in need of a private investigator. Jinx and I were happy to fill that niche. But working with fae meant calls at all hours, and Jinx could only field so many of our clients.

  More often than not, the job was something that couldn’t wait. When someone with fangs and claws shows up and says it’s urgent, you know it’s a real emergency. Your options are to either drop everything or turn tail and run. I really picked the wrong time for a social life.

  I guess I should give Ceff a break. I’d had to cancel my share of dates due to emergency cases.

  But now here we were, Ceff and I alone with no beasties breathing down my neck for the services of Ivy Granger psychic detective and Ceff had to leave.

  Story of my life.

  *****

  Jinx rolled her eyes at me while I went back to sipping my noxious coffee. I was at Jinx’s mercy when it came to the grocery shopping, since touching shopping carts and bags of coffee beans was always a bad idea, so I tried to keep her in a good mood. Maybe I could convince her to buy some real coffee. The kind that didn’t taste like it was brewed with cookies, or someone’s old fruit cake.

  “Sorry, you’re right,” I said. “Ceff didn’t really want to go. I’m just frustrated.”

  “Of course you’re frustrated,” Jinx said. She put a hand on one voluptuous hip and pointed a well manicured finger at me. “You’re a twenty-four year old virgin.”

  “Well…well, I have a unicorn!” I said.

  I crossed my arms wishing Jinx would butt out of my non-existent sex life. I’d hoped that she’d back off once I started dating. Instead, my relationship with Ceff just seemed to fuel her need to interfere.

  Jinx turned and wiped her eyes with a dish towel. Was she crying? I was grumpy, but Jinx was used to my mood swings, especially before my first cup of coffee. She set down the towel, looked at me, and started laughing.r />
  “Oh my God, you should see yourself right now,” she said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Dude, you sound like you’re five,” she said. “And you’re dressed in little kid pajamas.”

  “You bought me these pajamas,” I said.

  “I know,” she said, sniffing and dabbing at her makeup.

  “You suck,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And this coffee tastes like stale cookies,” I said.

  “Totally,” she said, nodding. “It was a Christmas gift from Olly. He has a skateboard competition in Oakland, so he dropped it off last night before leaving town.”

  “He bought us coffee?” I asked.

  “He probably regifted it,” she said, shrugging one tattooed shoulder.

  “That makes more sense,” I said. “And he’s too much of a conspiracy buff to drink something someone else gave him. At least it wasn’t Kool-Aid. He would have freaked.”

  “Plus, one whiff and he’d know it smelled like gingerbread men died in there,” she said. “It’s no wonder he gave the whole bag away.”

  “Seriously,” I said. “Nastiest coffee ever.”

  “Want another cup?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  It tasted gross, but a girl needs her caffeine fix. I gulped it down while Jinx took another dainty sip.

  “You know what?” Jinx asked. “This probably tastes exactly like cookie monster pee.”

  I spit gingerbread coffee all over the counter. Jinx could be a total pain, but she really has a way with words.

  And the two of us living together?—always entertaining.

  Chapter 2

  I was finishing up with my morning client when I heard a commotion at the front of the office. Greeting clients was Jinx’s job, but with the variety of faeries seeking our services lately, I figured I’d better check things out.

  There aren’t any walls between my desk and Jinx’s, or the front door, but the mother bugbear sitting in front of me was doing a fine impersonation. Adult bugbears are not only huge, but they’re also covered in fur. This one’s auburn fur stuck out in every direction, making it impossible to see what was happening at the front of the room.