Chapter Eight Partners #2
“Me, either.” Deanna bites her lip nervously.
“You don’t have to be a member, kids, you just have to live here. This whole town is my flock, and I look after them the best I can, even if they don’t darken my doors.” Fortnum smiles.
And honestly, that makes me want to darken his doors a great deal more often.
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you. It sounds like you’ve already made a lot of arrangements. And a preacher with a vampire... Wouldn’t that kind of lead to some kind of spiritual warfare?” Deanna asks with a nervous expression.
“Between Jakob and me? Shoot, no. We’ve been co-chairs of the Rotary Club Spaghetti Dinner for the last eighteen years, and my wife and I slept over at his place for an entire winter when our roof caved in because of a record-breaking snow.
In Pine Ridge, if you protect the innocent, you’re on the same side. Come on, let’s go.”
I offer Lady Deanna my arm—and she takes it. It’s all I can do not to fly.
Is it weird that I’m jealous of Blanche?
She looks a little like a pinkish-red Dolly Parton, with a white mane of curly hair, an hourglass figure that someone forgot to stop pouring sand into, and a sweet, nervous smile that just makes her seem so...
perfect. She stares at Dairmuid like he’s on the menu—at least until the other demon, the incubus named Liam, kicks her in the shins and she settles into a chair.
He looks totally human (except for the abundance of black eyeliner and the otherworldly David Bowie vibes he gives off), and Blanche looks about as inhuman as anyone I’ve ever seen.
I pinch myself for the tenth time today, waiting for someone to leap out and yell that we’ve all been shooting an episode about cosplay and LARP (two things I know a lot about, thank you, Aaron).
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Dairmuid handles introductions like the courtly fae I’m sure he is—when he’s not pretending to be a suburbanite.
He bows and nods, and then looks at the vampire joining us in a fedora pulled low and a trench coat with the collar pulled up, and says, “Let me just obscure the sun a bit. I don’t want to lose the warmth though, especially since Rory is here.
” Dairmuid pulls out my chair—and then literally moves a dense gray cloud in front of the lowering sun.
“That was very thoughtful,” Mr. Minegold says in his gentle voice with its faint European accent, removing his hat and placing it in his lap.
“Your baby is so adorable. Can I hold him?” Blanche coos, reaching across Liam with her clawed fingertips (filed down and polished pink, I might add) to get to Rory.
“No,” I practically snarl, pressing him more tightly to my chest. “I mean, no. I’m sorry. I’m overprotective.”
“She has reason to be. The child’s life is at stake. His succubus mother wants a fae soul, and he is her bargaining chip,” Fortnum explains.
Blanche and Liam wince as one.
“She wants a hunk of your soul, huh, handsome?” Liam addresses Dairmuid with lustful eyes, but even though there’s a clear hint of flirtation in his voice, it’s the harmless, flamboyant sort that doesn’t make my hackles rise the same way Blanche’s simple, hungry look did. “I can’t say I blame her.”
Blanche answers. “Blame, yes. Understand? Yes, to that, as well. That makes sense. Succubi need souls to live on—if they remain in another realm besides this mortal one. A realm inhabited by immortals, demons, celestial beings—immortal energy is a food source. The life force. A soul is a meal. A mortal soul is a small meal. An immortal soul is a limitless meal.”
“Then why not bump off one of her own kind? No offense,” I demand.
“Two negatives never make a positive. Not in that realm. In the mortal world? Energy is energy. Sexual energy is the best kind. It makes life. It’s like the catalyst for souls, and you can get it with willing consent, and you can even get it from one monogamous partner if they can keep up with you.
In Pine Ridge, you don’t even need to worry about it.
It’s the love capital of the world. Honestly, Jakob, Ignatius, you should talk to the mayor about getting a sign put up at the city limits.
Something cutesy. Pine Ridge is for Lovers.
Hm?” Liam suggests, sipping a rum and Coke, looking between the pale, regal vampire with silver streaks in his elegantly coiffed hair and the pastor who has a permanently patient smile on his face as he peruses the menu.
“It is appropriate, Liam, but hardly the time to discuss tourism and marketing,” Jakob Minegold says with a dry chuckle. “We know why this succubus wanted Dairmuid’s soul.”
“In order to protect my son, I would give it to her, if I didn’t fear that she would use it for something evil. She mentioned that the peak of her power was coming in the mortal world. I’m not sure what that means or when it is.”
“What the humans call the autumnal equinox,” Blanche is quick to explain. “The peak of sexual power and energy.”
“The vernal equinox is the low ebb of our sort of power,” Liam drawls, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “You have to watch out for folks trying to lure virgins away to sacrifice around then—”
Alban Wymark, the warlock and lawyer, makes a little “yeep!” sound of alarm and literally adds a note or a warning or something to his calendar app on his phone. “Double the watches leading up to that, huh, Jakob?”
“Yes, Alban.”
“But the vernal equinox is when the fruits of fertility are ripest and are ready to be gathered. A succubus is able to penetrate this mortal world without being summoned or relying on the sleeping minds of mortals. Once she’s here, she has a window of time to feed, a short window, of course, because mortal souls are like single-serving meals.
” Blanche swallows, with nerves or hunger, I can’t tell.
“I mean, for a demon who lives in the Hell realms. It’s different if you’re here. I don’t... I’m trying—”
“Blanche is new to this mingling with what used to be dinner,” Liam smiles.
I am not comforted. I am, however, surprised, but not mad, when Dairmuid lifts Rory and me, puts us in his lap, and wraps his arm and green cloak over both of us, face hard. “My Lady Deanna is not anyone’s dinner. Is that clear, demon?”
“Easy, fella, I’m just explaining what’s what.
If your Saz gets out and gets her claws on an immortal soul when she arrives in the mortal realm—she doesn’t have to go back, and she doesn’t have to play by the normal rules of incubi and succubi who remain in the mortal realm.
She’ll be here, she won’t have to go back, and she won’t simply have to exist on sexual energy or souls stolen through the dream realm.
She’ll be able to harvest souls and gorge herself for as long as she wants without having to return and ‘share her kills.’” Liam’s jovial face turns grave.
I’m very glad that I’m in Dairmuid’s arms. No one can see how bad I’m shaking.
He can feel it—but then again, I can feel how badly he’s trembling, too. As if by an unspoken signal, our hands find each other and clasp as they rest lightly on Rory’s sleeping chest.
“Our town is heavily protected and warded. We can set up further protections around your house,” Alban says with a reassuring nod in my direction.
“I’m not sure that any charm can stop a mother from getting to her child,” Jakob muses, pale face lined with worry.
Dairmuid’s voice is warm and rich, flowing like some sort of plummy, fruity wine right above my ear.
“The laws of blood and magic are tricky and usually concur—but sometimes they fight. Deanna has been chosen by fae law as Rory’s true mother.
Saz surrendered her child to this mortal woman. Does that help?”
“It may.” Jakob runs a slender finger along his chin, eyes thoughtful.
“There are other immortals in town, aren’t there?
There are other fae here, even though we don’t see them.
I don’t think you need to keep her out. I think you need to bring her in—and slay her,” Blanche says, leaning forward.
Her ruby eyes gleam, but her whole body is pitched in a nervous angle, lip bitten, hands clasped and wringing. Even her tail is twitching.
Liam puts his pale, human-looking hand on top of hers, a comforting gesture.
I expect him to say that’s a ridiculous idea.
I expect Dairmuid to say that’s a horrible idea. He can’t do that to his former lover, mother of his child.
The pastor, maybe. Murder is a sin.
“She’s not wrong,” Liam speaks first. “She got in once. She might be able to get in, always, able to access Rory somehow through the bond of blood. There are other fae here, other types of ancient immortals who prefer to keep hidden, and even those who don’t, like our esteemed Mr. Minegold—he could be at risk.
I don’t know how long a vampire’s soul keeps you full, but one with Jakob’s vintage?
” Liam kisses his fingertips. “It’s probably a few hundred years’ worth. ”
“Thank you, Liam, you flatter me,” Jakob says.
“Let’s not be hasty. It is very noble not to want to continue to serve a force of great evil, which is the reason Blanche and Liam fought hard to come to the mortal realm and fight hard to remain here, changing their lives and their, ahem, dietary needs.
It’s your belief that your former lover does not share those sentiments? ”
Dairmuid’s voice is low and tired. I feel his fingers leave mine, and he strokes Rory’s cheek.
“She deceived me about having my child, lied and hid him, would kill him—all to get my soul or half of his. Anyone who would do that doesn’t seek a pure life.
If she simply wanted to live among mortals, there are ways to do it, and our guests are proof.
It pains me to think of harming her, but I do not want her to harm anyone else. ”
“Can’t we just, like, imprison her in her own dimension?” I ask.
“The baby might always be her ticket out.”