Embrace the Mystery [03] Blood Rose Series (20 page)

Quinlan was the true anomaly in this situation. Margetta would have known to expect Batya at her own gallery, but somehow, in all her preparations, she hadn’t predicted Quinlan’s presence.

Her mind began to work in a way that resembled her father, with a kind of instinctive troll-like precision that flowed from one thought to the next easily. Her faeness was all swirls, magic, and light, but this more rational part of her emerged with a kind of numerical precision.

She let the frequency flow, of instincts and calculation.

She stared up at Quinlan and stretched her vision to see him more clearly. He was only a foot away from the top of the shield. Sweat poured down his face and Lorelei wept.

Quinlan
, she pathed to him.

Got any ideas?

One. You have the power to do this.

Not that I’ve noticed.

* * * * * * * * *

Quinlan felt something new emanating from Batya, something unexpected. At first, he didn’t recognize what it was, then he realized her words carried the feel of her father, of Davido.

He kept up his pressure on holding Lorelei away from Batya’s shield, now inches away, but at the same time he focused on Batya, on the new vibration flowing into him.
What should I do?

I don’t know, Quinlan, except that it’s important right now that you think creatively, outside-the-box.

He almost laughed. He’d never been a creative type. He liked maps where everything was laid out for him. He made war, organized scouting forays, ruled a realm. He even managed the politicking of the various town and city mayors fairly well. But what he didn’t do was conjure up new and intriguing methods of doing anything.

So what could he possibly contribute to this situation other than his brute strength, which had failed him at Batya’s gallery and which was failing him now?

He cursed beneath his breath, but Batya’s trollish stream flowed stronger now, as though gaining substance as each second passed.
Quinlan, think opposites. If your strength can’t beat Margetta, maybe something else can, something you’ve kept hidden from yourself in the same way I didn’t know I had my father’s instincts.

Quinlan opened himself up to Batya’s frequency.
Tell me more.

There’s a mystery here. How can Margetta reach Lorelei through my enthrallment shield? Except for the wind she can employ, why doesn’t she just attack you? Maybe Lorelei needs to be a different kind of focus.

He had no idea what she meant, but he heard Lorelei gasping for air. With only half a foot separating them from the top shield, he was squeezing the life out of the woman he was trying to protect.

“Sorry, Lorelei.” He eased up on his hold and for some reason, Margetta lost her grip and he and Lorelei dropped three feet in the air.

But the moment he began fighting Margetta’s hold on Lorelei, he lost his advantage and started rising toward the shield once more.

Batya’s voice once more entered his mind.
Tell me what happened.

Quinlan didn’t hesitate, but relayed the sequence of events.

The focus must involve Lorelei somehow.

A new strategy emerged like lightning and he knew what to do, maybe because Batya streamed her new energy toward him, or maybe he’d finally had a new thought.
Batya, train all your attention on Lorelei and I’ll do the same. Use this new trollness on her.

You got it.

Her quick affirmative response stunned him because it was very un-Batya-like.

When he felt her attention shift to Lorelei, almost at the same moment, Margetta’s hold began to release. And as soon as he let go of his physical battling of the situation, and even loosened his grip on Lorelei, the descent began.

“What’s happening?” Lorelei’s doe eyes had a startled appearance.

“Change of strategy, and damn the elf-lords, but it seems to be working.”

Lorelei glanced up. “It is. We’re fifteen feet away from the shield now, at least. Thank the Goddess.”

He’d been a warrior long enough to understand that he couldn’t let up right now, that he had to keep his attention on Lorelei herself and not drift back into fighting mode again. Apparently, in that state, Margetta could easily overpower him, but not if he was simply looking at Lorelei and helping her to float back to earth.

The moment, she touched back down, Margetta’s power broke completely.

Batya slid her arm around Lorelei’s waist. “We have you.”

Quinlan released Lorelei as well.

Henry flew in close. “She’s up to something new. Do you feel that?”

“Oh, God,” Batya murmured. “She’s revving up her battle frequency.”

Henry glanced around. “She’ll fry us all.”

Quinlan met Batya’s wide eyes.
Any more ideas, Cha?

She shook her head. “Haven’t got a clue.”

Quinlan was about to ask Henry for his take on things, but Lorelei turned to Batya. “Let the forest speak to you. I’ve been thinking about the effect the forest had on you and I have a feeling it was trying to communicate. Haven’t you felt it as well, that the Dead Forest isn’t really dead at all?”

* * * * * * * * *

Batya turn in the direction of the ancient fae. She only had seconds to change what was about to happen.

Glancing up at the sky, she let go of her fears then glanced at Quinlan. “Get me up there.”

“You’ve got it.”

“But bring Lorelei as well.”

He gathered up Batya in his right arm and Lorelei in his left, then headed skyward at top speed.

Batya closed her eyes against the sudden rush of wind, but as soon as Quinlan breached the tops of the trees, the maddening cacophony began, like a thousand voices all at once, shouting over each other, all trying to talk to her.

As she had earlier, though, she set aside her faeness and brought forward Davido’s daughter, and the troll parts of her that might just be able to make sense of the situation.

She gave herself the same advice she’d given Quinlan. She stopped trying to fight against the sound and instead let it flow through her, a steady stream that soon softened and became an incredible internal melody.

Her vision altered at the same time and as she glanced around she saw the Dead Forest with new eyes, as a vast sea of iridescent leaves, glimmering in blues and green, yellows and purples. “It’s so beautiful.”

Lorelei whispered. “She’s here, just beyond your shield.”

Batya turned to face Margetta as she rose high in the air also. Her lips drew back in a snarl and her voice sounded rough. “If I can’t have her, no one can.”

She extended both arms and her power blasted toward them.

Batya had only a split second, so from deep within, that part that communed with the Dead Forest, she begged the extraordinary entity for help.

Just as Margetta’s power reached them in a searing edge of fire, from beneath Batya’s feet an answering cool wave, of enormous power, rose up from the Dead Forest and swept in Margetta’s direction.

The profound wave gathered the ancient fae up, as well as her force of Invictus wraith-pairs, and swept them all away. Within seconds, they were nothing more than a speck in the sky. Another split-second, and they were gone.

Quinlan dropped them almost immediately back to earth and started issuing orders to send out patrols to find out where the ancient fae and her troops had gone. But Batya laid a hand on his arm. “Let me see if I can find out.”

Quinlan raised his arm. “Hold!” Then the entire brigade stopped all activity.

She closed her eyes and withdrew the enthrallment shield. She opened up her troll sensors and focused on the chatter of the trees around her.

The vibration from the Dead Forest became a long string of sensations, but eventually shaped themselves into words that made sense to Batya. She translated for the forest. “The evil ones have been sent hundreds of miles from here, over the western realm ocean, Maris Sol. It will take them hours to reach land. We’re safe to proceed to Ferrenden Peace.”

A cheer went up from the troll brigade, from Lorelei and from Quinlan.

A portion of the brigade went down the back trail to gather the remains of those trolls who had died in the fire attacks. The rest resumed the trek northeast toward the Snowfields of Rayne, and Ferrenden Peace beyond.

* * * * * * * * *

Quinlan held Batya against him, her head resting on his shoulder. She lay limp in his arms, asleep while he moved them both mile after mile, through the increasingly frigid night air.

Her peaceful slumbers gave him a lot of time to think. With her vibrations stowed, he was more himself than he’d been over the past several days.

Yet he felt restless and uneasy, not because he thought Margetta might suddenly reappear around the next switchback, but because he felt changed.

He’d finally realized something critical, though he hadn’t yet mentioned it to Batya, but his stomach no longer cramped as it had for centuries. The state of chronic blood starvation for every mastyr vampire, had been his painful companion from the time that he’d arrived at mastyr status. Like Ethan and most of the mastyrs, he kept a stable of
doneuses
to take care of his blood needs. He’d needed constant donations, sometimes more than once a night when battling the Invictus,

And in all those decades, year after year, with a regular changing of his doneuses as one century moved into the next, he’d never been without the cramping in his stomach.

Until now.

Batya’s blood had satisfied him, nourished him, and eradicated what had been horribly painful for most of his adult life.

To his knowledge, this extraordinary experience had only happened to two other mastyr vampires in all the Nine Realms, Mastyr Gerrod of Merhaine Realm and Ethan of Bergisson.

Sweet Goddess, if everything he understood was correct, then Batya was a blood rose,
his
blood rose.

Which at least explained why he’d been unable to stay away from her.

On some level, he must have known. Ethan had talked about his experience at length, about his erratic behavior, his craving for his woman, his need to protect Samantha as though his own life depended on her survival. Quinlan had also been drawn to Samantha to the point that he and Ethan had essentially fought over her in the Bergisson Guildhall.

But if Batya was his blood rose, then why hadn’t he understood it sooner? Or maybe he had, but he just hadn’t been able to face the truth until now.

Sweet Goddess, a blood rose. And his stomach didn’t hurt.

But what the hell was he supposed to do with her? He didn’t exactly respect her life choices since she lived as an ex-pat and had no desire to return to Grochaire Realm. In his view, realm-folk should have a commitment to their homeland above everything else, including family and personal happiness.

He’d lived by these values, so opposite to what Batya held dear. Although he did give her credit for seeing to the well-being of realm-folk in Lebanon. She wasn’t a selfish person, just badly misguided.

But what was he supposed to do with her?

He had no room in his life for a relationship with a woman, any woman, even if she proved to be his blood rose. Maybe he could visit her occasionally in Lebanon, maybe she’d be willing to become one of his
doneuses.
Yes, that made sense.

With that much settled, he pulled her closer. The air had grown freezing cold, but he produced a lot of heat which he hoped kept her body temp at a reasonable level.

When he rounded a wide bend in the mountain range, suddenly a vista opened up before him, something he’d only read about in ancient fables, the Snowfields of Rayne.

Batya, wake up. You have to see this.

Hmmm?

She lifted her head and drew in a soft gasp. “Oh, my God.”

He slowed his speed and one by one the troll brigade, with Lorelei, spread out in a single line to either side of him.

A soft, exquisite layer of snow, as far as the eye could see, rolled out before him, unbroken by trees or shrubs. The name made perfect sense. In the glow of his night vision, the snow sparkled beneath a black, star-studded sky. But it wasn’t just the spectacular visual sight, but the essential power that emanated from the field.

“Do you feel it, mastyr?” Henry levitated beside him, head erect, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, a flow of power like nothing I’ve felt before.”

“What do you think the source is?”

Quinlan shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“Okay, so which way to Ferrenden Peace?”

Without even having to think about it, as though the map lived in him now, he pivoted slightly facing northeast. “That way.”

“Can you reach Mastyr Seth? If Margetta finds us again, it would help to have reinforcements.”

“Good question.” He dropped to the snow and set Batya down, waiting for her to find her footing.

Her booted feet sunk just a few inches through a delicate crust with soft powder below. She leaned down and ran her hands over the surface. She even chuckled, like she was amused and delighted at the same time.

What do you feel, Cha?
He needed to know. Batya, like Lorelei, had an unusual connection to the land. Maybe the snowfield would speak to her as well.

She rose up and met his gaze.
I’m just savoring this soft vibration of energy. It’s lovely, even beautiful. Untouched.

He felt it as well, that realm-folk had not walked in this land for a long time.

He withdrew his cell from the pocket of his leathers and found he had enough bars. Dialing, he was relieved when Seth picked up immediately.

“I’ve been waiting for your call, Quinlan. Do you have the woman?”

“Yes. The ancient fae gave us quite a bit of trouble and we’ve lost some warriors from my troll brigade.”

“Very sorry to hear it.” Seth spoke in a soft, clipped, careful manner. Of all the mastyrs, Seth held himself in tight control. He was extremely disciplined and though lean as hell, he had as much muscle mass as Quinlan. The vampire worked out with a passion and it showed.