Friend or Fae

By Hannah Blatchford

Francesca Frankie Lee is just a small time country kid, a bit brighter than most but as green as the grass on the hills of her homeland. When she wins a scholarship to study in the big city it seems as if all her dreams have come true. But the city couldnt be more different than the quiet empty fields and moors of West Country and Frankie soon discovers that monsters roam this urban paradise.

Frankie is sponsored by a powerful vampire family, but although she is thrilled at the power and wealth this position provides, in the city the old adage fair is foul and foul is fair holds true. The city is a dangerous place where power over others is paramount and no matter how bright Frankie is her ignorance and vulnerabilities cannot make her anything but a target. Those that should have been protecting her seek her downfall and in a moment of violence and awakening Frankie finds herself thralled to another family and at their mercy.

Frankie is soon torn between strange powers and finds that she is not quite as normal as she first believed. In this land humans had no magic of their own, but Frankie finds her strength growing until she becomes a danger not just to herself but to others. She is sent to one of the city institutes used to tame rogue magics, but again she is betrayed. Her powers are used for dark purposes, bringing her into contact with some of the most feared creatures in the kingdom. She flees back to West Country, but the city has changed her for ever and this peaceful little backwater is no longer quite the safe haven she remembers it to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jul 13, 2010
• ISBN: 9781477233764

Hannah Blatchford

Hannah Blatchford graduated with a B.A (hons) in English Literature & Language from Exeter University. She has been a freelance copywriter for several years and this allows her to indulge in her passion for the written word in all its forms.   Hannah has always been fascinated by faerie tales and their ongoing significance and relevance throughout modern life.  She feels that the current trend for paranormal romance novels really taps into this genre and creates a very modern combination of both age old ideas and contemporary ethical and moral dilemmas.       Hannah was inspired to write her own story that would both explore the charming and sometimes dark world of folklore and fairy tales and also engage the modern romance reader. ‘Friend or Fae’ is Hannah’s first novel inspired by the rich history and folklore of the British Isles.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I had come back to the place I started from, back to the memory of when things were bright and the future stretched before me like some great and glorious adventure. Back to when things made sense, when badness was just an idea, a nightmare dispelled with the coming dawn. Home had been for the longest time a vision in my head, one of simple goodness, proof against everything that went to bad and then worse. I could go on, no matter what as long as it was there waiting for me. My strength, my salvation.

As always I got it all so hopelessly wrong.

The house was still there, the rooms barely changed. The trees down the drive just a little bit taller, thicker. The house was still there all right, but not the home.

That had been the dream all along, dying at last with my mother.

Still it made no difference in the end though, either way. Some things you could not run away from, some troubles too deep. Lessons learnt the hard way, the bad way that never faded, images that stuck in your mind but it might as well have been your throat the way they rose up and choked you. Your world, my world it made no difference, the past was a story you could tell however you liked, but never change.

Some days were good days, when I could lie to myself that things would be okay. When I could almost feel normal, as if I had never left this grand old place and things had never had to change. What came to me later in those dark, dreaming hours put paid to that though and as always my mind led me treacherously back to the bleak and inescapable truth.

There was no cure for what one had seen or done.

Standing here in the place of my childhood it seemed as if the countryside around me was the only true thing. That the memories of my time in the city were nothing but phantasms, sent by a vindictive sleep god to torment and destroy me. In this age city folk feared the open land, tainted and made truly wild by fall out from too many years of war and weirdness. But to me the countryside was a harsh but beautiful mistress, her rolling curves gowned in the brightest greens, the deepest browns. Her glory was in her ability to change and shake off the seasons, striding forward in the great circle and never staying still. In the city, where creatures that had lived for centuries wiled away their long days change was stifled, feared, as those that claimed immortally hoarded the precious minutes like treasures to be taken out and admired but never used. For a mortal time and change pushed life along, made it seem real and without it everything was merely stale and flat. Empty. That was how my life had been in the city, as bright and dazzling as any jewel, and as hollow and barren as a fae folk’s promise.

Here in the village in which I had been born change was real and immediate and every time you looked the wild moor had crept even closer, gradually swallowing more and more of the remote farm buildings and houses on the far edges of the village. Far back in my great great grandmother’s day the wild moor had been two national parks separated by vast towns and cities with the Exe in the north and the Dart in the south. Now they were both just one long stretch of wild land that curled down in a horseshoe shape from the north coast of the old Shire, down to the point where the southern towns had fallen into the sea and everyone just called it the moors.

You had to cross its wide expanse to leave the West Country on either side, not that there was much point going down to Kingdoms End. They didn’t like strangers down there and small wonder.

There were roads that led across the moors to other places, small towns and outposts along the route to the city, but these were rough and ready and they were certainly not very safe, not even in the daylight. Anyone who had to travel across the land here carried a shotgun, loaded and ready to use, and nobody with any sense went out after dusk. Since the land had been steeped in magic following the wars, there was some very weird stuff about.

The main problem down here was of course the Wers. In a funny way that was actually a good thing, as it had kept the really nasty Supes away, protected the land from the constant hunger of the city for people and resources.

It started out on the moors with wild rodents; you know rabbits, rats and the like. It was pretty painful to get bitten by a Wer animal and the contagion in their saliva could burn through your veins in minutes. If you didn’t get help quickly it was usually fatal from animals to humans, you either died from the pain of the venomous bite or the horrible infections that set in later. Some did survive though and that was when the trouble started as from human to human it was not fatal at all, just very infectious. A Wer human didn’t change into an animal every full moon or anything, that was just a dumb old myth. The reality was in fact much worse as the poor bastards changed totally, irreversibly into something quite awful. Their genes went all haywire and started eating themselves up, mutating in something at once more than human and also less. The first time I had seen infected humans up close was in a zoo in the city. Some of them looked all hairy and stooped, lab geeks said they reverted to some prehistoric version of man, and others went all runny like a walking corpse. Perhaps that was also where the whole zombie myth came from, which was also untrue because dead was dead and no magic could reverse that ultimate process. The info plaque on the enclosure wall had said the initial Wer infection killed all the thinking parts of the brain, basically all that made you ‘you’, so despite the fact they said human Wers could live for decades in captivity it was basically a death sentence. If you were bitten there were anti-Wer shots you could take, but they only worked if you caught it quick, and there was no known cure for Werism once it had set in, though they were probably hard at work in their little labs on it in the city I don’t doubt.

I had tried not to think of the city too much since I had come back home, although it was difficult as in reality I had spent most of my life there. My mum sent me there early, when I was just about ten. I had done really well at our little school and I guess she thought I deserved a chance at the big time. No one from my village had any real idea what the city was like though. They thought it was some fabulous place full of wealth and luxury, a real chance to live a decent, struggle free life. In some ways of course that was true, but for the majority the glamour of the city was a lie, a terrible lie gilded with worthless faeren gold.

There were only twelve cities left in the world, one of the leading ones in this small Kingdom I called home. Technology and magic pretty much took care of everything, and there were hospitals, libraries, universities – the works. Carefree people wandered along the high streets buying expensive clothes and going to restaurants for amazing, decadent food. Oh yeah, there was that side of it. At some point in the past, some clever geeks had constructed a huge energy barrier around the cityscape that served two impressive purposes. One was that it kept out all of the undesirables and regulated the come and go of people and trade, and two it filtered out all of the inconvenient bits from sunlight that tended to make some Supes go poof. All the cities had them now, but New Kingdom had been the first, and from a distance it looked like a gigantic snow globe, those ones you shook up to set the little flakes dancing. You needed a pass to get into the city, papers that said who you were and where you were allowed to go and there were only a couple of ways of obtaining one if you had not been born there. I got one for being a smarty-pants and passing all the 9+ exams that my mum had set me up for, in fact I still had it. You could only lose a pass if you did something real bad and got caught. I could go back anytime I wanted. I just didn’t want to. I expect everyone here thought I was nuts.

Anyways I did pretty well at first. The schools there were amazing, a brainy kid’s wet dreams. I lapped up the attention, studied hard and got selected for one of the special grants for the next year. Up until then my mum had been paying for it gods know how, so I was chuffed to monkeys and so was she. It didn’t occur to me to wonder why they didn’t let you go home ever. I didn’t realise most of them thought people from outside the city were less than savages.

Students graduated from city schools at thirteen, then there was this sort of jobs fair and people came to look over the students and pick out the ones that they wanted to sponsor. You couldn’t get into college without a sponsor, and without college points no city university would take you. I nearly died of pride when a bidding war started over me. Happy old me, with my head stuck right up my arse.

The city was rich for a reason. It survived the Supe Wars for a reason. It sometimes shook me that my mother could have sent me to such a place, exposed me to such otherness. I should have been shocked I suppose when I found out what it was like there, but I wasn’t, just merely surprised and kind of excited. I was buzzed up on my own importance and nothing mattered but that. They told me I was clever, pretty and so special, and gods know I lapped it up. I had tried to tell myself over and over that I was just a kid then, that I didn’t know any better. Tried to tell myself I was led astray. But I just couldn’t make myself believe that, not deep down inside where it counted. Some things were just wrong, no matter what spin you tried to put on it and any decent human being would know that. It didn’t make any difference that I left, that I chose to leave it all and come home. Some of my worst nightmares were not about fear at all but desire. Deep, gut wrenching, unbearable desire that I knew was barely under control. I was like a druggie on rehab, watching how long I could go before I broke. And boy, when I went alarms were going to start screaming all over the city.

I may have been naive and just a little bit dumb, but I was not stupid enough to think they would really let me off the leash. One false move and the Supe Containment Forces would be down on this place in minutes blazing merry hells out of anything that moved. The worse thing was they wouldn’t kill me, just make me go back. And I knew, knew it as I sure as I knew anything about myself, that next time I wouldn’t be strong enough to leave.

CHAPTER 2

Someone banging on the front door like a crazy jerked me out of my dismal reverie and it took a long moment for the details of my surroundings to filter back in. It was daylight, the weak sun just trickling over the wilds of the tangled garden out the back, the kitchen damp and chill with misuse. When my mother had been alive this place had been the heart of the house, a fire constantly burning in the range, herbs hanging from every corner. Now it was silent, empty and I had been lost in dark thoughts for so long the cup of tea clenched in my pale fist had gone quite cold.

The hammering started up again, setting my heart pumping as if city assassins really would go to the front door, politely demanding my head on a silver plate.

I set the cup down on the side in a careful, exact way, willing the sudden trembling out of my hands. Fear came to me so readily now that I felt crushed by it, exhausted by cowering at every uncertain noise, every terrible memory that rose unbidden. I had not known fear until I had gone to the city and since that time I had known nothing else.

I eased out into the hall my heart in my throat, picking up the small wood axe by the kitchen door on pure reflex. I shifted its weight more comfortably in my right hand and stifled the urge to run and hide. I could feel a thread of panic rising and tried to tell myself again that assassins wouldn’t bother knocking on the front door. I had to actually force myself to open the damn thing, my hands were so cold and stiff with nerves.

I wasn’t expecting Jed, an old family friend and familiar face, but there he was his cheeks pale and his faded blue eyes showing too much white. It took a lot to freak him out; from what I had heard he had pretty much seen it all.

My heart started thumping in dread, but I leaned on my discipline and managed to ask coolly enough that favourite word that seemed to summarize my life.

Trouble?

Jed glanced at the axe in my hand and then looked up, his eyes still a little wild. I held his gaze and dared him to comment.

It’s the Reynolds, down over Fox Lane. He paused, and nearly choked on the next words. They’ve gone rogue.

Rogue, the dreaded word round here, one that filled a man’s spine with horror. A human gone rogue was a human Wer, and just one could take out a whole community if left unchecked.

All of them? I kept my voice calm but my insides were rolling. The Reynolds were a nice bunch, mum, dad and three kids.

Yeah. Even the dogs. Jed ran a hand through his greying hair and leaned his broad frame against the door.

I wouldn’t ask…I know…it’s just the rumours… he trailed off helplessly and looked at me. I stared back. I knew the rumours. They all thought I was some kind of supe-assassin for the military back in the city. Gods they didn’t know the half of it.

Still I didn’t do that stuff anymore, it was too dangerous. Set off all kinds of weirdness in me. I hesitated; knowing that I should say no and shut the door up again, nice and tight.

Jed looked pretty desperate, his eyes washed out like faded denims. A whole family rogue was a pretty major deal for this place, hells it could be a bloody disaster.

I’ll come now. I wish he hadn’t looked so grateful. I mean the man was 6ft 6 and tough as nails. It didn’t bode well that was all I could say.

I least I didn’t have to waste time getting ready. Out of habit, the training so deeply ingrained, I kept a bag under the dresser in the hall filled with goodies and was already wearing my black perma-body armour suit under my normal clothes. It was top-notch gear, the armour as thin and flexible as skin but stronger then Kevlar. It was so light it felt literally like a second skin, and never picked up any dirt. Supe Containment Section (SCS) officers had to wear the full body version at all times, some even did off duty, and it was sad I know but I kind of got into the habit of doing that as well. I had plenty much as anybody to be paranoid about. I shrugged off the faded pink tracksuit I had been wearing over the top and slid into a padded black waistcoat that was hanging up in the hall. Just like old times. I caught myself in the mirror and thought I looked like some jumped up military wannabe - all I needed was some shades. Good. Jed looked at me a little strange and I guessed I must have slipped into professional mode. I might have been a girl but I knew how to stand and move like a tough guy. I paid my dues out in the training yard until I was nearly all cleaned out, and the body suit emphasised the solid muscles of my slim arms and legs.

I followed Jed out the house and jumped into his truck. It was pretty cool, some military left over he brought back with him from the wars. It hammered out over the crappy roads a treat and soon we came up against the red brick village hall in a shower of grit. Jed jumped out and went in, coming back seconds later dragging a nervous looking individual in his wake. I realised it was the vicar, Hamish, coming with us apparently to do the honours. Jed nodded over his shoulder and the hall doors banged shut again, the bolts slamming loudly home. Most the villagers were probably in there; aside from the pub it was a safe house for when the shit went down. I could see a few curious faces peering out of the barred windows, most likely trying to get a look at me. I willed myself not get pissed off. The rumours about me were pretty colourful after all and it wasn’t like much else happened around here.

I just stared straight ahead, knowing my face had shut down. My trainer used to tease me about it, calling it my ‘little miss hard arse’ expression. I couldn’t help it much, whoever my father had been he had some serious warlord blood somewhere in his ancestry, leaving me with a jaw line you could strike rocks on. When I got serious my face just went all hard. The only thing that let it down was the smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks and my big dark blue eyes, legacy of my mother’s family. They were soft and expressive, framed by a swatch of long dark lashes. Hells without them I would be one scary woman.

Jed finished checking the truck and literally manhandled Hamish up into the seat next to me. I would have preferred the window spot but too late. I didn’t like him much; being a vicar was a big responsibility in an isolated place like this and I never thought he was much up to the challenge. Still he was here, despite what was waiting for us at the Reynolds house and that was something.

Jed burned it down across the village out onto the back road. Fox Lane was on the outskirts, near the dairy farm. Mr Reynolds was one of the herdsmen and the house went with the job. The dairy farm was important to the village; it supplied most of what was left of the West Country (even the city now and again) and kept a dozen people in work.

Hamish rifled through his bag with a shaky hand checking his stuff. I didn’t need to check mine. Everything was neatly clipped in place ready to go. Training was so hard to break.

I stared straight ahead trying to work out when dusk was coming. Once I would have asked Jed his opinion, now though the thought didn’t even occur to me. Doing little secret favours back in the city had got me used to working on my own, trusting my own judgement. Two hours I reckoned, give or take a few minutes. Not enough time if they had scattered, and that would depend on when they got infected. Wers were really scary in the dark.

Jed turned slightly still keeping his eyes on the road.

You okay about this Franny?

I started. Only my mum ever called me Franny, and she’d been gone a long time. Back in the city I was just Frankie or Miss Lee. Only one person ever used my full name, Francesca but I sure as all the hells didn’t want to think about him.

I realised I was taking a while and nodded.

Yeah fine. That was me, the big conversationalist.

Hamish looked across me uncomfortably to Jed.

When did it happen Mr Turner? Hamish always called people Mr or Mrs. Even if he had known them all his life, which was really irritating and indicated a severe inferiority complex to me. I noticed he hadn’t acknowledged me at all yet and was taking great pains to sit as far away as possible in the cramped cab. I almost smiled.

Rob didn’t turn up for work yesterday morning after his day off so Burt drove past to check his house out. Jed told it all with a pretty calm voice, perhaps only I heard the small tremor seeping through that soft, rolling accent that was all that was home to me. Nothing was moving around but he could see one of the dogs lying in the dirt on the drive. He went back to the farm and got a few of the boys but they couldn’t see anything, just that one dog. Burt reckoned it had been dead for a couple of days, definitely a Wer.

The best we could hope for was that they found the infected dog and fled. Though that didn’t explain why we hadn’t seen any of them for a few days and why they hadn’t reported it. Of course that was plenty of time for a human to survive the infection and turn Wer. Hamish was looking a little green; I guessed he was thinking along the same lines. I glanced at Jed and saw a muscle in his jaw working.

Anything else? I asked perhaps a shade too brusquely. Jed glanced at me sharp like, but I wasn’t one for massaging people’s feelings.

Yeah, one of the boys saw a couple of shapes moving about in the fields earlier. Could have been dogs I suppose.

I didn’t think so somehow. The truck fell silent as we absorbed this information.

Hunting human Wers was not a good job. They were not super powerful or anything, but in the beginning they were totally crazy, rabid. They would do anything to get a bite on you, tear themselves apart even and that was a pretty grim prospect. Standard supe containment procedures were to keep well back and blast the crap out of them then burn the bodies, but those guys had strength in numbers and big spanky weapons. My training had been a bit more up close and personal. Guns were pretty much useless when they jumped you from behind and start trying to chew your neck.

Round here on ground level as it were they had pretty much got it sussed. They dressed up a dummy and smeared it with a bit of human blood. Then they stood it in open ground around where they thought the creature was and all got up trees or on roofs to lie low. They didn’t just blast away as that scared it off and then they would have to track it through the countryside – not fun. Instead they tried to take the thing out with a couple of headshots, stopping it long enough for them to pin it down and fire it. That was about the only way to stop a Wer. They had a bite reflex even in death and it was still infectious for a few months after the body had started decaying. Anyway we had only ever really had one or two Wers tops at a time round here in the past, never a whole bloody family.

When we got to the Reynolds place Burt