Dark Faery II: The Mercifuls (DarkFaery Book 2) Read online

  Flynn looked at Simon, who gave him a crooked smile.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my leave,” Simon said. “But I would like Flynn to accompany me, if you have no objection.”

  “None. He’s your apprentice,” Mr. Whitethorn replied, looking more surprised than he sounded.

  Flynn gathered his things and left with Simon. Along the way he tried to memorize the scenery so he’d know the way but he felt distracted, and wondered if Simon were doing something. Yet Simon wasn’t even looking in his direction.

  They arrived at the cave and went to Simon’s office. Flynn put down his instruments and waited. Simon gestured for him to sit on the sofa, and sat beside him.

  “Now that your father has made a contract with me, it’s your turn.”

  Flynn turned pale. “You’re going to make me a thrall?”

  “Yes. Not having second thoughts?”

  “No. But I have some questions, like, will I have to drink blood?”

  “No. You’ll still be a light Faery.”

  “What do you mean, a light Faery?”

  “We’re dark Faery – undead. You are living. You still need food.”

  “Can I ask one more thing?” Simon nodded. “You drank wine with my father. I thought you only drink blood.”

  “Did you see the flask? It contains an elixir to make liquids disappear. It only lasts through the hours of darkness, but by the time its effects wear off, you mother would have dumped out any remains and washed the goblets. So she, in effect, would already have gotten rid of it.”

  Flynn smiled. “Clever.”

  “There are times when it would be rude to refuse a drink.”

  “What about food?”

  “That’s different. I’ve experimented with a number of things. I’m able to distract folk to some extent, but in the end, the food would still be there. The tooth Faeries have a magic powder they sprinkle on human teeth to shrink them to the size of Faery teeth. This allows them to carry them home. At dawn they revert to their original size. Teilo was one of those. He supplied me with a good bit of that. I seldom need it. Should I run out, I think he’d do me the kindness of selling me more.”

  “But aren’t people offended when the food reverts?”

  “Any child can tell you how to surreptitiously get rid of food. I’m not making it disappear. I’m gradually making it shrink while appearing to eat. I put the bits into a napkin and take it away with me. I can dispose of it and the early morning creatures have a bit less foraging to do.”

  As he spoke he took Flynn’s wrist, feeling the blood pulsing beneath the skin. He pushed up Flynn’s sleeve, running his finger slowly up and down the inside of Flynn’s arm. Rather than making him anxious, it relaxed him and made his arm feel numb.

  “Now I have a question to ask of you. Will you faithfully serve?”

  “Yes,” Flynn said.

  He watched Simon’s actions feeling detached, as if he were a spectator. Simon’s fangs pierced the inside of Flynn’s arm just below the elbow, and he took a bit of blood. The sweetness of Faery blood was like dessert compared to the ordinary nutrition of Human blood. He wanted so much more, but he stopped after a mouthful of blood.

  Flynn was unperturbed. Simon’s movement of his hand over Flynn’s arm had not only numbed the arm but acted to stun him slightly so that he was nearly unconscious.

  Flynn blinked a few times and looked at Simon, who watched him intently.

  “Are you all right, Flynn?” Simon asked, licking his lips after he licked the puncture marks on Flynn’s arm.

  “Yes. I thought it would hurt. I barely felt it.”

  Simon let go of Flynn’s arm, and the boy looked, but could barely make out the now whitened marks. They looked more like old scars than fresh bite marks. He felt tired.

  “Rest here a bit before you go,” Simon said, and stood up. Flynn’s eyes were closed as he leaned back against the back of the sofa before Simon left the room.

  When Flynn awoke he looked about trying to remember where he was. As he saw the familiar things in Simon’s office, he remembered what had happened. He looked at his arm, but the marks were less obvious now than when he’d seen them before. He rolled down his shirt sleeve and stood up. How long he’d been there was unclear. What if the Vampyres had already gone to – to wherever it was they went during the day? Would he be allowed to leave?

  Simon entered the room and Flynn breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Better now?” he asked.

  “Yes. How long have I been here?”

  “About half an hour. You should be fine to go home.”

  “How will I find my way?”

  “You needn’t worry. You will. And when you need to come back here, you’ll find it, although you won’t be able to tell anyone where this is.”

  He led Flynn out to the front.

  “When will I come back?”

  “You’ll know,” Simon told him.

  He didn’t know whether or not Simon was being deliberately cryptic, but he knew he’d get no more out of the Vampyre tonight. He flitted home, arriving just as the first rays of sunlight started to turn the sky a deep purple and orange.

  9

  Flynn awoke the next day and looked at his arm. Yes, there were the tiny marks. No one else would have noticed. He didn’t feel different from the day before. Somehow he thought he would.

  He stretched and got out of bed, dressing as he had done for school. It was odd to not know what he was doing.

  He wandered about the village for a while after breakfast. Some of his friends had leisure to chat or play flit ball, and he enjoyed the free time, although he was preoccupied with wondering how he’d know when Simon wanted him.

  He went home to dinner as the sky darkened, and his father wondered aloud when his apprenticeship would begin.

  “Simon hasn’t sent for me yet,” he said. “He works late.”

  Flynn had just finished eating when the marks on his arm began to vibrate. He rubbed the spot and heard Simon’s voice in his head.

  “Oh,” he said. His parents looked quizzically at him. “I just remembered Simon did mention my coming to see him after dinner.”

  “You’ll have to keep a better head on your shoulders than that if you’re to succeed,” Mr. Whitethorn said.

  Flynn left the house. As Simon had assured him, he knew how to go. He felt a little like he had a homing device inside his head – or perhaps it was the thrall marks.

  He arrived at the cave thrilled that he’d found his way.

  “Hello, Flynn,” Lana greeted him. “Simon is waiting in his office.”

  Flynn hurried down the corridor. He knocked on the door and waited for Simon to tell him to come in.

  “About time you learned a little formality,” Simon remarked.

  “Well, you are my master now.”

  Simon smiled. “See that you remember that.”

  They began with flute, since Simon played that. As they worked on one of Shauna Faun’s early songs, Flynn had a hard time with the rhythm of the piece, and finally Simon played it through for him. His playing nearly made Flynn cry with the beauty of it. He’d never heard Simon play alone before. Perhaps all of the instruments together shielded the listener from the exquisite beauty of a single instrument.

  Simon misread Flynn’s expression.

  “I’ve been playing for over 200 years. Don’t be discouraged.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t. It was just – I’ve never heard anyone play so well.”

  “You’ll play as well.”

  He had Flynn play the piece again and again, noting things that needed correction each time, and finding Flynn an apt pupil.

  “You need rest,” Simon remarked finally. Flynn had to admit he felt tired. He’d never played for so long a time, but he felt the worth of it.

  “I wish I could stay here,” Flynn blurted.

  “That isn’t possible. Besides, you need rest from the instrument or your improvement will slow. Tomorrow
we will work on the harp.”

  “Thank you for accepting me, Simon.”

  Simon studied the boy. He had no pretense about him.

  “Good night, Flynn.”

  Flynn returned home and fell, exhausted, into bed.

  Flynn’s days began around noon. He did whatever ‘light Faery’ things he needed to do and just after dinner, about 9, he left for the cave. They rotated through his three instruments and voice, Simon teaching him the songs, sometimes switching into something more ancient. He quickly improved and soon Simon played a harmony around Flynn’s melody. When he became proficient, he played harmony to Simon’s melodies.

  Saturdays were completely free for Flynn. The traditional day of play for Faeries, Faerie lights in the forest occurred each Saturday evening. He wasn’t expected to miss this or other light Faery frivolity carried on by his clan. He suspected Shauna Faun spent that time in pursuits he knew nothing of. He was glad of the day of rest; Simon was exacting in his training.

  At the end of the first month, Simon reviewed with Flynn how he was doing. He was pleased.

  “You are far more adept than you believed yourself,” Simon said. “I can make you more so.”

  “How?”

  He took Flynn’s wrist and ran his fingers along his arm.

  “You already made me a thrall. Are you going to make me a Vampyre?”

  Simon smiled. “You are not ready for that.”

  Flynn was relieved, yet clearly he was missing something.

  “Then what?”

  “We often take blood from our thralls. It binds you closer.”

  “What good will that do?” Flynn asked. “I’m not planning on leaving.” Something in Simon’s tone and look was more intense. This was not the smirking Vampyre or the patient, if distant, teacher. This was – Flynn couldn’t help think of it as closer to the true nature of the Vampyre. It was somewhat intimidating – no, frightening, really, although Simon had done nothing to make Flynn afraid.

  “When I take your blood I leave something of myself. It enhances your abilities.”

  “You mean this talent isn’t really mine?”

  “Oh, it is. If you had no talent, I couldn’t give it to you. This is an enhancement. It is the development of your own skill, only more quickly. Your apprenticeship won’t go on as long as many others do in your society.”

  “And this will get me to being a Vampyre faster?”

  “Yes,” Simon agreed.

  Flynn relaxed against the back of the sofa. “Fine. Have at it.”

  Simon grinned and went about taking some of Flynn’s blood. How nice it was to have a willing thrall. Flynn might question things to the point of distraction, but it was his nature to want to understand. Teilo’s blood had always had a tinge of unwillingness to it. Although it was sweet Faery blood, it wasn’t as pure a delight as Flynn’s.

  Simon realized he’d been lost in thought and not paying as close attention as he should. He had taken a bit more blood than he should’ve done. He looked at Flynn’s pale features as he rested his head with eyes closed against the sofa. Simon licked closed the thrall marks. It wouldn’t do to kill such an apt pupil and willing subject. He needed Flynn as much as Flynn wanted to be a part of Shauna Faun.

  Simon watched him for several moments, but the boy didn’t move.

  “Flynn?” he called gently, watching for signs of breathing.

  Gradually Flynn opened his eyes and saw concern on Simon’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” the boy asked.

  “Nothing. You seemed –”

  “That was amazing. I felt like I was floating, and I saw all of these scenes, but they were places I’ve never been.”

  “Probably my memories,” Simon replied.

  “So, you and Zoe?” Flynn asked.

  Simon looked shocked, then smiled. “Yes.”

  “Will I – well, when I’m a Vampyre will I have a mate?”

  “You might.”

  “But they all seem to be taken and there are more guys than girls.”

  “You haven’t met all of us. We actually have more females at the moment. But you don’t necessarily have to stay with those in the coven.”

  “Do you always partner with your new Vampyres?”

  “No. Zoe was the only one I made that I’ve partnered with. And I’ve made males. I have not mated with a male Vampyre.”

  “But you could?”

  “I don’t think I could. Others have.”

  Flynn breathed a sigh, and Simon realized that the boy had been afraid of being forced into that sort of alliance.

  “No one is forced here to do anything against his will. No one is forced to stay in the coven. You will, of course, be under my tutelage when you are first reborn, but that is for the purposes of learning to be a proper Vampyre. You will be like a child for the first year. Your only urge will be blood. You have to learn to be civilized.”

  “You mean I won’t even play with the band?”

  “You may. Once you’re calm and learn your appetite, you’ll be able to do more.”

  “I won’t be able to control myself?”

  “It is something you need to learn.”

  “So, what if the others get angry with me?”

  Simon smiled. “Would you be angry with a baby for soiling itself? We all need to learn. You may even hate me for a time because it will be my duty to see that you don’t become destructive.”

  “Why would I be destructive?”

  “We don’t drink Faery blood. Yet it is the sweetest, most desirable in all the world. You will be tempted. But you cannot give in to that particular lust. It would be the death of us all, light as well as dark Faery.”

  “So, no Faery in the world drinks from Faeries?”

  “There are some. They do not live in covens, and they live where Faeries are more numerous. Those places are scarce now. Some who would not touch human blood have been destroyed to save the remainder of light Faery. If you took a single light Faery to his or her death you would have Aoife, Moira Holly and all of the other priestesses and druids on this side of the world hunting you. And they have the power of the goddess.”

  “The goddess is all-powerful?”

  “We are not of the goddess, but she is a powerful adversary. With the strength in numbers she has, we would not stand long, but we would wreak destruction to try to save ourselves. So you will be reined in as a newborn. But I have tired you. Go home and come back in three days.”

  “Three days?”

  “It will give you time to build on what I have given you.”

  10

  “How are things with your thrall?” Harry asked.

  Harry was a medium height, medium build Faery with reddish brown hair and brown eyes. He was the sort in life who blended in with the crowd. He’d been a journeyman blacksmith, so he had more muscle to him than many of the others, but he was still trim. He was far more inquisitive and talkative than the others, and seemed more like anyone’s next door neighbor than a Vampyre. Simon found him amusing, and often ended up confiding in Harry because he was so easy to talk to, yet wouldn’t let on to anyone what he’d been told in confidence.

  Simon shook his head. “He’s quite talented. He’ll truly be a boon to us.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ in that statement.”

  “No, it’s me, not him.”

  “You’d rather have Teilo?”

  “No. In fact, his blood has a sweeter taste to it because he’s so willing. That’s the problem.” Harry looked fascinated. “Harry, I nearly killed him. I was so lost in it –”

  “Perhaps when taking fealty from your thrall a second could be useful.”

  Simon considered. Before now he would have been outraged at such a suggestion. But he wouldn’t have mentioned the situation if he didn’t need a solution.

  “He’ll ask questions. He always does.”

  “He is not privy to our secrets,” Harry replied. “The rest of us are forbidden Faery blood unless we’re tra
ined to the ritual. Who, besides you, Kele and Fiona have that?”

  “So, you’re saying someone else should witness? Would someone else be able to stop me?” Harry studied his nails. “Would you?”

  “As discretely as if I weren’t there,” Harry replied. “My oath on it.”

  Since Simon hadn’t created Harry; he’d had to take a blood oath when he joined the coven.

  “Thank you, Harry. I won’t abuse the service.”

  “May I listen next time he practices? Then he could become used to another.”

  “Yes. He’ll be back in three days. He needs rest but doesn’t realize it yet.”

  Harry nodded. He’d seen many things in his 150 years as a Vampyre.

  Simon wondered if their faith in him as a leader had been misplaced. He’d let sentiment rule reason in Teilo’s case, convincing himself that a Vampyre couldn’t work with the fires required for making shivs when he didn’t really know. He knew for himself how distasteful the heat of the flame was, and how he’d received a few blisters getting too close to the ovens. But he’d had no protection whatever.

  Even if a Vampyre couldn’t do the job, it didn’t much matter. Teilo’s brother and father didn’t make shivs. That Hawthorne fellow in their village did the shiv making. Teilo could’ve made an agreement with him if need be, and sent a thrall to make the exchanges. Hawthorne could’ve been wealthier than he was now if he’d had an arrangement with the Vampyres. No, Simon had been too soft.

  And now Flynn. He hadn’t actually nearly killed him. He’d gone too far in the amount of blood he’d taken at one time, but the amount hadn’t threatened Flynn’s life. The way Simon had been lost in the comparison, the way he’d lost track of what he was doing had jeopardized Flynn. He would’ve had to take far more than what he did to actually kill the boy. But to get so lost in the act, to allow it to control him, that could’ve led to more serious consequences. By the time Flynn realized what was happening, he would have been too weak to make more than a futile attempt to stop Simon. That attempt would’ve brought Simon – too late – to his senses, but he probably wouldn’t have been able to save Flynn enough even to make him a Vampyre.