Free Blood Faerie by India Drummond

but it had gone quiet. He rubbed it with his fingers, but it did not seem alive as the stone at St Paul’s.

    “Eilidh.” He stopped and swallowed. Her name filled his head, and he had to focus to keep talking. “Tell me about the night Robert Dewer was killed.”
     
    “The man below the church?”

    Munro resisted asking her how many dead men he could possibly mean. He nodded and waited. Part of being a cop was knowing when to shut up and let people talk.
     
    “Do you know, then, who killed him?” she asked.

    Something in her tone set off alarms in his head. “Are you saying you do?”
     
    She nodded. “Of course.”

    Munro licked his lips. He’d figured she’d seen something but hadn’t really expected her to know the killer’s name. He held perfectly still, not wanting to do anything to distract or discourage her, but inside his mind raced. He couldn’t keep her name out of things if she’d seen the crime or knew the killer. He’d have to tell Hallward. He had no clue how he’d manage that, but first things first.
     
    Eilidh sat for a long time without speaking.

    Munro waited. Finally, he said, “Eilidh?”
     
    She didn’t meet his eyes. Her expression had grown distant, and she stared vaguely into the trees. “You must leave this to me, Munro. You cannot stop one who casts blood shadows.”

    “Eilidh,” he said, more sternly this time.
     
    She looked up. “I do not think even I can stop him. He must be an outcast like me, but I do not know his name or what kingdom exiled him. He is not of my own people, I believe.” Then she went on, as though speaking to herself. “The conclave will not help, and you humans are not equipped.” Again she looked at him, her tone sad. “This blood faerie will kill again, Munro. I must find him first.”

    A faerie did this? Munro’s heart sank. He could definitely not take this to Hallward. The sergeant would have him on permanent disability leave so fast Munro would never know what hit him. It was all a bit much to take in, but Munro couldn’t let her slip away. He didn’t want her story to be the truth, but he believed her. He didn’t know what kingdom or conclave she was talking about, but he could tell the news was bad. “I’ll help you, Eilidh. We humans might surprise you.”
     
    He thought she might laugh, but instead she just gave a sharp nod. “You have surprised me very much, Munro. That is true.”

    Munro glanced down at his hands. He continued worrying the small stone in his fingers while they talked. The plain grey stone had been shaped into a smooth, arched teardrop with a curling claw at the top. He hadn’t even felt himself doing it. The shape was simple, yet an elegant curve. Without knowing why, he put the stone into Eilidh’s hand.
     
    She looked intently into his eyes. “You surprise me very much indeed, Munro.”

    “Quinton,” he said.
     
    Confusion clouded her face. “I do not know that word.”

    He grinned, even though he felt the weight of the world. “It’s my first name. Munro is my family name. You can call me Quinton.” He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it. It wasn’t exactly professional. He was a cop and she was a witness. A psycho faerie was killing humans. Yet here he stood, chatting her up in the park.
     
    “Quinton,” she repeated. It sounded rich, as her strange accent pulled a harmony of sounds from the word. “It is a name we will share between us then.”

    Munro didn’t know what that meant, but Eilidh seemed more relaxed than she had since she arrived. Whatever bond of friendship they were forming, he had to get back to the important matter at hand. “Tell me about the murderer, Eilidh. I know you want to stop him. I do too. I can help.” If he’d said those words a week ago, it would have sounded patronizing. After all, he was the cop. She was just a witness. But seeing what he’d seen in the past few days, well, maybe she knew more about this than he did. At the very least,