Darkest Skies: Of the Blood, #3

By J.R. Pearse Nelson

Half his heritage is a lie. She's harboring family secrets. Neither are what they seem. 

After a hundred lost generations, conflict is brewing in Otherworld. The Sidhe's unloved part-human children, abandoned to the mortal world, are suddenly their greatest source of hope.

Nathan has always felt more at home in the wilds than with other people. But he had no idea just how different he was. 

When his long-absent father reveals he's not of this world, it's in tandem with even worse news. 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 isn't sure where she stands. When a family secret is threatened, she's determined to protect her own. She's never approved of thinning Sidhe blood by mixing with humans. So what does she care if these half-humans are lost to an assassin? 

But she has more in common with the young Lord of the Skies than she wants to admit. Maybe, together, they can keep the darkness pervading Otherworld at bay. Or maybe her attraction to this particular half-human will prove the undoing of all she knows. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.R. Pearse Nelson
• Release date: Aug 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393262107

J.R. Pearse Nelson

J.R. Pearse Nelson is a fantasy and romance writer who has authored more than 20 novels. She hails from Oregon, USA, where she lives with her husband, two teens, and two dogs among the plentiful trees and clouds of the Pacific Northwest. J.R. weaves tales rooted in mythology, bringing legend to life in modern-day settings and fantasy realms. When not writing, you can find her making magic in the kitchen and enjoying long walks or "rambles" outdoors. J.R.'s books include the Moon Garden Mysteries paranormal cozy series, the Aeon Society fantasy romance series, and the Water Rites fantasy trilogy. You can connect with J.R. and learn more about her fiction at her website. Visit jrpearsenelson.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

Soft, velvety arrows of light found their way through the thickly nested branches of the forest canopy. They struck the forest floor, spotlighting tiny red and gold mushrooms and rainbow clusters of wildflowers as Brigit, goddess of home and hearth, made her way through the deep shade of the wildwood.

She should have felt right at home. And maybe she would have ignored her misgivings, if she hadn’t been so long away from the forests of Tir Nan Og. There was something different about this place; something had shifted in her absence. The shadows felt darker, the sounds of stirring wild things seemed muted, distant. She didn’t understand it. This place was old. Very, very old. The vibrancy of the wildwood could not be darkened in a mere twenty-some years. The idea was nonsense.

Brigit’s eyes were on the path in front of her, but her senses stretched out well beyond her body as she tried to make sense of what she felt here. She’d been living beyond the veil for years, so it had been a long time since she was this deep in the Middleworld forest. She did not fear this place, could not fear it, even with the distressing changes she felt. She, of all people, would never be harmed in the wilds of her homeland. But she was worried.

The rushing sound of wings filled the air, and a large hawk dipped into view. All thought of the woods fled her mind in a heartbeat when she saw it. Landing on the path ahead of her, it stretched its wings wide.

Brigit could see the change, though it would have been too fast for most to catch. The bird grew, and it changed. It wasn’t exactly pretty. Bulging, rippling flesh, feathers receding to reveal pale skin, his facial features melting and resolving into their well-loved shape.

Just the man she’d been looking for.

Nemglan. Brigit greeted him with a small nod. The Lord of the Skies was not going to welcome her visit, despite her stubborn affection for him.

It had been a long, long time since last they’d met. He looked exactly the same. He looked good, and her eyes soaked him in like spring water in the midst of drought.

Brigit. His voice was soft, but strong. She knew from Merah that he rarely used it anymore. He kept to himself, to the skies and to his wooded paradise. He smiled at her, laughter softening the stark planes of his face, and she knew he would tease her before he said a single word. Her heart ached even as he spoke. Rarely does such beauty grace my woods. So…the goddess of home and hearth has returned to Tir Nan Og. Are you making the rounds of old friends? Nice to know I still made your list.

Oh, he would always be on her list.

It is good to see you. Brigit maintained the distance between them. She had to share the news she’d come to share. He wouldn’t forgive her if she put it off. There’s something you need to know.

He inclined his head, his eyes pinning her, still so like the hawk. She could lose herself in those eyes. Again, as she had all those years ago. But she owed him an explanation. She had to tell him of the Blood Wars.

Brigit found her voice and began the story she’d come to tell. It’s about your son…

The woodland glen was still. Even the wind had ceased stirring the branches above. Or maybe her senses were clouded by rage. Tessa Anndrais replayed the words that had just been spoken in her mind, unwilling to accept them. Blood rushing in her ears, she faced the object of her wrath.

Who told you this? she demanded. She shoved back the hood of her satiny lavender cloak. It pooled opulently around her shoulders, highlighting her 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. 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. The unnatural darkness closed in so tightly 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 in a quick motion of ending. 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? He grinned manically, sure of his own game. 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 exactly 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. 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. 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.

Tessa’s 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. 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.

Chapter 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 his 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.

For 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 west to Colorado 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