By India Drummond
Unjustly sentenced to loss of life, Eilidh ran--away from faerie lands, to the streets of Perth, Scotland. simply as she has grown acquainted with exile, neighborhood police find a mutilated physique outdoors the deserted church the place she lives. Recognising the homicide because the paintings of 1 of her personal style, Eilidh needs to pick out: flee, or learn how to faucet into the forbidden magic that expense her every little thing.
"Eilidh detected the greasy smell of evil moments sooner than she heard the scream less than. She perched in St. Paul's steeple, observing Perth's overdue evening pub-crawlers via rotting slats. The scurrying footfalls of people didn't carry her curiosity, nor did the seeping ruby blood that unfold quick over the flat, gray paving stones. as an alternative, her eyes became north alongside Methven highway, looking the resource of that generic smell.
Evil smelled like not anything else, worse than a rotting corpse, worse than sewage and affliction, extra vile than the fumes that billowed from smooth equipment, extra cloying than the disgrace of drunken whores. this actual evil used to be clean, yet no longer really natural. It combined with rage yet was once contained, sophisticated, as if gestated within the abdominal of historical hatred. This evil held promise, and for the 1st time in a long time, Eilidh hesitated, a bit afraid. "
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Extra resources for Blood Faerie (Caledonia Fae, Book 1)
Gloha would have been glad to help her even if it wasn't to pay the Sin Tax. There was a trough and bucket beside the stall, and brushes too. Gloha dipped the bucket full of water, and approached the Glyph. The creature shied nervously away from her. " Gloha said soothingly. "You don't have to be afraid of me. " She spread her wings and pumped them a couple of times. The Glyph settled down. Gloha washed her, getting the fur and scales and hooves clean so that they glistened and shone as they should.
The flowers grew in patches of color, and the color spelled P-E-A-C-E. That was Gwenny's work, all right. She landed by a prettily manicured front gate. There was a goblin guard, neatly uniformed. He snapped to attention as she approached. "A courteous greeting, Lady Gloha," he said politely. " Gloha was taken aback. What was the matter with this goblin? He should have greeted her with an insult or a threat, or at least a sexist innuendo. That was the way male goblins were. It was expected. She didn't trust this.
Her mild little mind had prevailed over the cloud's fury, and she had mastered (or maybe mistressed) the first challenge. But there would be two more, and they wouldn't be any easier than the first. She had gotten through as much by luck as by wit, and might have used up her supply of both. Should she give up her quest? But then she would never find her Perfect Mate and True Love, and would have to endure unhappily forever and ever alone, which was a fate worse than "marriage. She wasn't ready to face that dreary prospect.