Blood and Mistletoe by E. J. Stevens Read Free Book Online Page A

and bring Marvin home.
    I took a deep breath and pulled my gloves off, one finger at a time.  I felt naked and was glad for Jinx’s steady presence at my back.  If anyone had to see me like this, at least it was the one person I knew I could trust.
    I stared at my bare hands and the frozen red liquid just inches away.  What was about to come next wouldn’t be pretty.  Hopefully Jinx would keep me quiet enough to avoid any curious cops or passerby.  If we were up on Joysen Hill, where vamps and other beasties routinely hunt, screams from a dark alley would be commonplace.  Too bad we were on the edge of the Old Port.  The last thing we needed was a tourist stumbling in and witnessing my bizarre investigation methods.  I shook my head, banishing thoughts of screaming bystanders and police interrogations.  I’d just have to put my faith in Jinx.
    I plunged my right hand into the ice and gasped at the cold as it burned against my skin.  I closed my eyes against the image of frozen blood touching my hand.  Seconds later, the black of my eyelids was replaced with the image of a dying faerie.  I had shifted from reality to a vision and the images were coming in full bloody Technicolor.
    And the vision was coming from the perspective of the killer—oh goodie. 
    Warm liquid ran over my hands from the slashed neck of a merry dancer.  I held a ceremonial knife to the faerie’s throat and whispered guttural words in a foreign tongue.  Scarlet threads of power rose from the body in radiant tendrils to twine up my legs and arms.  I felt drunk on the rush of power as I drank the faerie’s remaining life essence.
    I staggered to my left, leaning against the brick wall of the alley.  I steadied my hold on the faerie and the ritual blade in my blood slick hand.  My eyes flicked down to the skeleton bundled in my cloak, resting in the shadows.
    “Soon my beloved,” I whispered. 
    I continued the incantation, careful to guide the stream of blood along the blade into the bottle nestled in the palm of my hand.  The crystal bottle gleamed red and gold with an inner fire and thick black and scarlet smoke rose from within to swirl around the bottle’s mouth.  The magic was working. 
    Blood dripped into the bottle as I chanted, filling it to the brim.  With a satisfied grin, I used the stopper to seal the bottle tight.  But my spell was not the only thing that required blood.  It was time to leave payment for those who serve me.
    I shifted the weight of the body in my arms, letting the head loll back to expose the drying wound.  I drew my blade across the faerie’s throat, making a second incision.  A small trickle of blood flowed and I held the body out to dangle above the icy ground.  Blood dripped and pattered onto the cold pavement, forming a steaming puddle.
    The last drop of blood fell to the ground and I threw the body in a heap against the wall.  My minions would dispose of it later.  Holding my gore covered hands to the sky, I laughed.  My power was growing and the day of the ritual was fast approaching.  I had the tree and the blood.  All was going according to plan.
    I pulled a sprig of mistletoe from my pocket and flung it at the exsanguinated body.  As if bleeding the immortal dry was not enough, the red caps would be certain to feast on its flesh before carrying the remains to the ritual fire.  The kiss of death, indeed.  I laughed again, walking jauntily away.
    As the killer moved further from the blood cooling on the ground, my perspective shifted.  I was no longer looking out through the twisted killer’s eyes, but the new view wasn’t much of an improvement.
    Slinking away from the congealing puddle was a beautiful female faerie.  She was obviously not afflicted by the cold as she prowled happily with bare feet across the icy ground.  Her pale limbs moved with the lithesome grace of a ballerina.  The faerie sashayed to a dramatic halt beside the bundle of bones resting on the