Flight (Children of the Sidhe)

Flight

J.R. Pearse Nelson

Kindle
Edition

Copyright 2013 J.R. Pearse Nelson

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Author’s Notes:

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

Flight (Children of the Sidhe, Novella Three)

Nathan Jeffries doesn’t entirely understand his affinity for hawks, until he finds he can shift into one. Fae blood is to blame for his good looks and luck with the ladies – but now that luck has turned. Nathan is on an Otherworld assassin’s hit list, and the only person stepping forward to help him just may be playing for the other side in the Sidhe Blood Wars.

Tessa Anndrais isn’t sure where she stands. When Abarta – the assassin – threatens to reveal a family secret, she’s determined to protect her own. She’s never approved of thinning Sidhe blood by mixing with humans. Yet she finds herself watching Nathan, the half-human son of the Lord of the Skies, with enough approval to keep her warm all through the night.

One

“Who told you this?” Tessa Anndrais shoved back the hood of her satiny lavender cloak. It pooled opulently around her shoulders, highlighting her halo of white-blond hair. Her sapphire eyes sparkled. “I could make you my slave for such slander.”

Using that sort of magic drained her for days,
not to mention the idea of controlling another’s mind gave her the shivers after her recent ordeal, but she didn’t have to tell Abarta that. He was known as the Trickster for a reason. He was also wickedly beautiful, though she’d never admit her guilty attraction to the bad boy causing such trouble among the Sidhe – especially now that he’d introduced blackmail into their relationship. The ridiculous Sidhe libido could be a nuisance at times, and this was one of them.

Abarta smiled, his full lips parting to show his teeth.
“I didn’t come here to
share
with you, Tessa. I was told your magic and knowledge are worth your troublesome penchant for independence. You will serve me now.” Shadows slithered swiftly from between the trees. Inky darkness seeped into the clearing where Abarta had insisted she meet him, filling the air until the shadows stamped out the view of what lay beyond. Darkness closed in, so close she could smell its dank, putrid stench.

“Creepy effect, but I’m not so easily fooled by illusion.” Tessa held out a hand and closed her fist, tight. The shadows retreated in a heartbeat, and a
nearby bird sang a bright note of thanks, which was answered by another shrill call. It was her turn to smile. “Tell me why I shouldn’t take you to the Sidhe Authority right now.”

“Easy
. You don’t want to betray me. I’ve made arrangements in case I am harmed, go missing, or otherwise say the word. Do you take me for a fool? Besides, I’ve had third-party confirmation. Without my protection, your brother’s secret will get out.”

Tessa
stood her ground, but her mind reeled. They’d been so careful, but apparently someone had found her family’s secret despite all their efforts to hide it. She weighed her options. She could go along with his blackmail for the time being, or at least play along to keep her family safe. She didn’t exactly disagree with his cause. She had no love for the humans. He needed a spy, and she had to admit she was well placed to get the information he was after.

But Tessa
hated putting herself in another manipulative man’s power. Until recently, she’d had a good deal of faith in the Sidhe – faith that her people were wise, and while not always kind, they had a nobility that other races could only hope to emulate. Tessa’s recent lover, Bertran, had challenged those notions completely. When the opportunity to perpetuate the Blood Wars arose, he’d used her, to the extent of taking control over her body and using her as a puppet in his schemes. She’d trusted him, or at least enjoyed him, and her faith had been sorely tested. She didn’t want another man to have power over her. Not now.

Abarta seemed to read her thoughts
about her ex-lover. “Tell Mikhail you need to know what’s going on after what happened with Bertran. He’ll sympathize. Tell him you want to help. Find out everything the Sidhe Authority knows about the half-humans, and bring that information to me.”

“If I help you, and you succeed, then you’ll tell me everything you know of your so-called third party.” Tessa would never be stupid enough to play along without asking for something that made
it worth her while. Abarta the Trickster – with him any bargain must be worded with exceeding care. Give and take were each a part of the game.

“Making deals, making deals. You’re not e
xactly in the position, Tessa. Mikhail’s secrets–”

“I’ll help you,” Tessa snarled, her patience officially at an end. “But if you leak a word of that, you’ll wish you’d never heard it. You’ll wish eternally for an end to the pain I
will subject you to.”

Abarta bowed his head, but she could still see his smile. “I hear you, and your self-righteousness is music to my ears.”

Tessa watched him resolutely. “What about the third party?” she pressed.

“I apologize. I cannot speak of them. Is there another prize you wish to ask?”

Tessa noted how he twined his fingers together as he asked the question. Abarta the fidgeter? What was it he didn’t want her to know? “If I help you, and you succeed, then you’ll leave my family alone for all time.”

“Done,” Abarta smiled as he gazed straight into her eyes, and Tessa
stomach sank. That was too easy, and she already dreaded the bargain she’d been forced to make.

These half-humans were important somehow – obviously more important in the scheme of things than her own blood, if Abarta was so willing to trade for the chance to slaughter them.

Mikhail’s secret taunted at the edge of her thoughts, but she refused to think on that. He’d made his mistakes, but he was her brother, and she’d always looked out for him.
And I’m not about to stop now
, Tessa thought, setting her jaw.

“Return here when I call.” He gestured around the glade amid the Middleworld forest, where he’d directed her for this meeting. “You may go now,” Abarta told her.

Tessa scowled at him. Who was he to order her around? “I will return as my duties allow after I receive your call.”

“You’re a librarian. Is your schedule that full?”

“My rank is Curator of the Texts, and I’ll not justify my availability to you. As my duties allow.”

“Why are you still arguing with me? Get out of here.”

Tessa had wondered the same thing, but she wasn’t about to lose an argument with Abarta. He would fear her, or Mikhail’s secret was lost.

Two

Nathan
Jeffries was not a morning person. As he stirred his first cup of coffee in a window-side booth at the Red Hen Diner, his dark sunglasses were the only thing saving him from the harsh light of day. He took a sip of his heavily creamed and sugared brew, and sighed in relief. The. Best. Coffee. Ever.

Taking a break from work to write his thesis back home in Laurens
, South Carolina, at his mother’s old house, had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn’t realized how much his schedule kept him on track when he was working. Without that anchor, he got lost in the minutia, and hours – hell, days – seemed to fly by in a rush as he avoided work on the very project that had drawn him back here.

His thesis on the differences in breeding habits between subspecies of hawks in North America had seemed like a good fit for h
is rural South Carolina roots. Growing up he’d seen many a hawk soaring over open land, and diving for their prey. They’d always struck him as noble. He loved the way they rode the air currents, with minimal movement. They just soared.

F
or some reason he had trouble finding his bearings since he returned. Maybe it was because the work that drew him to his hometown this time was so opposite of the reason he’d lived here last. His mother’s battle with colon cancer had pulled him back to town for almost a year before she died. He’d itched for campus the entire time, feeling constrained by the small town and the slow pace of life while caring for his ailing mother.

Right after her death he put everything but the furniture in storage and signed over management of the property to a local company
. He moved out, and re-enrolled in graduate school. He thought he would mourn better on his own terms, but he still wouldn’t say he was over her death.

Since returning
, he’d been going through his mother’s things and setting them straight after his two-year break from the reality of her death. She was never coming back, and now he had to decide what to do with all of her things, not to mention the house itself. The housekeeping didn’t help either. Apartments definitely didn’t take this much work. And despite the fact he’d had a property management company checking up on the place and renting it out when they could, the long-term vacancy had left a lot of repairs waiting for him. It was peaceful to pick up his tools and set to work on something tangible, something that showed him results at the end of a hard day and left his muscles aching from effort instead of tedious deskwork.

Nathan
hated deskwork. He was a wildlife biologist because he loved the wild. He was drawn to the outdoors, to doing, to feeling with his own two hands and knowing the world with his own senses. So on the thesis end of things, he’d already wasted nearly a month of his six-month break.

Nathan took another swallow of his coffee, and thought of his desk at home, covered with books all run through with sticky notes and highlighters.
Then he looked down at the worn satchel he carried with him. He was drafting his thesis in longhand, because he hated being stuck at the computer. This way he could carry his work with him and jot down the next line or a new train of thought as they occurred to him. This morning he just didn’t feel up to it. He itched for activity, and the woodland trail he’d often hiked as a kid sprang to mind. Maybe observation of the subject of his thesis would turn his mood around.

Nathan
bought a sandwich before he left the coffee shop, and walked back home. He grabbed just a few more things. His camera and extra batteries, a water bottle, and a Gerber knife multi-tool. He drove the ten minutes to Laurens County Park and walked a quarter-mile over the grassy fields before he chose a spot close to a copse of oaks and beeches.

He sank to the ground and pulled his notebook out, hoping inspiration would strike. The
early December day was partly cloudy and almost sixty degrees, much warmer than he’d grown used to for this time of year. He’d left the house in a dark gray Henley, worn jeans and his favorite hiking boots. No jacket necessary.

The
nearly naked trees made it easy to spot his hawks. He could see three from where he sat, at opposite ends of the field, scouring the grass for their next meals. As he watched, the hawk at the north took off from his perch at the top of a beech tree and rose until he was a speck, before diving back into a soar above the field. He dropped again, fast, this time to snatch some small creature from the grass with his talons. The bird retreated to the woodland to enjoy his snack.

An
other of the birds had disappeared while he watched the successful hunter. The third watched him from the east. No one else was around, and the day had taken on an uncharacteristic stillness. Suddenly, the hawk leaped from its branch and descended, but where a hawk should have landed, a man appeared instead.

Nathan jumped back, wondering if short sleep and a house haunted by memories of his mother had driven him to hallucinations. Maybe the man had been there all along, and he was just now noticing him. There was something about his eyes, though. Something wild, and all too akin to the hawk who had just been watching him from his oak-top perch.

“Nathan,” the man spoke. “I need to speak with you.”

“Did that really just happen?”

The wild-eyed man took him in, silent. He chose not to respond to the question, and instead said, “You have a special affinity for birds, do you not?”

Nathan nodded, bewildered.

“It is your nature to take to the skies, to the branch. You must join me.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“I am Nemglan, Lord of the Skies. Your father.”

Nathan took another step back. Nemglan was tall and lean, much like Nathan, with dark blond hair and deep brown eyes – it was like looking in a mirror.
“What do you mean, my father? My father died when I was a baby.”

“That’s what your mother told you. The truth is – well, honestly, the truth is complicated and we don’t have time to get into it right now. Follow me.”

“I’m not going to just follow you.” Was he crazy?

“Nathan,” the man burst out in frustration, “Do not argue! You
must run! You must join me.
Now
!”

“I don’t know what you mean. What do you mean join you?”

“You know what you saw. Do I have to speak it?” Nemglan looked over his shoulder, his features stretching in fear.

Nathan felt something break in the
air; it felt charged like the silent minutes before a big storm, despite the clear weather.

“RUN!” Nemglan seemed to hover a few inches above the ground, and where he’d been there was suddenly a hawk, the transition too rapid for Nathan to catch, despite the fact he was looking straight at the man (or hawk) who claimed to be his father. And suddenly the hawk Nemglan swooped toward him, nipping his upper arm savagely. Nathan felt something change at the bite, at his resulting fear. He sn
apped, and suddenly he knew.

D
arkness had filled the woods beneath the canopy, as if the branches restrained it from taking over the afternoon. It stretched toward them, and an inky blackness began to seep into the field at its eastern edge.

Nathan cried out. He convulsed and felt his body – change. Then he was flying,
everything happening too fast, the hawk chasing at his tail, forcing him on insistently.

They dove into
the cover of the woodland at the other end of the field, where the darkness had not yet filled the space between trunks. Nathan’s stomach dropped as they soared between the interwoven limbs of two oaks. He hit the ground and rolled, wing over wing, colliding with the trunk of a tree and coming to rest.