Embrace the Magic (The Blood Rose Series Book 2) (15 page)

“Action, reaction.”

“Something like that. And Ry’s joined up with them. He led a concerted attack at the fairgrounds last night.”

A soft hiss sounded and afterward another drag. “That prick. But the hell if I’m surprised.”

“He went after Samantha last night. If he’d gotten to her before me, he would have enslaved her.”

“Sweet Goddess.”

“You said it.”

“Okay, so what am I doing in this vision?”

“Fighting for the cause. You’re in flight and carrying a short-sword. Lots of Invictus.”

“Okay. That’s all I need to know. I’ll come to you as soon as I see my lieutenants. Just one question: Have you taken from this blood rose? Gerrod said the result is incredible. How’s the starvation, right now, I mean?”

Ethan took in a long, slow breath. He searched for even the smallest sensation, a trickle of blood hunger, but found nothing. “It’s like it never existed.”

“Fuck. Me.”

The thought streaked through Ethan’s head that he shouldn’t let Quinlan get anywhere near Samantha. He knew how he’d reacted to Abigail so he shared with Quinlan what that had been like for him. “You’ll want this blood rose really bad. But for now, she’s mine. Keep your fucking hands off.”

He’d meant to say the whole thing in more diplomatic terms, but even the thought of another mastyr getting near Samantha, caused his fists to ball up and his biceps to twitch. “I need you to understand.”

Quinlan chuckled, a low deep sound. “I’m feeling you, Ethan. I’ll keep my distance.”

“Thank you. So when can you come?”

“I have some things to straighten out with my lieutenants. Three, four hours tops. And if I’m going to stay a few nights, you’ll probably want to alert a couple of your
doneuses
that I might need them.”

“You got it.”

“Around eleven, then?”

“Sounds good.”

Ethan ended the call and reached Finn through his telepathic frequency and asked him to stay on point. Finn was all too happy to take charge, eager even, which made Ethan wonder if Davido might be right after all. Maybe he should let go of some of his leadership roles.

But the thought of it, of relinquishing even a small part of his committed rule over Bergisson, sent a flash of guilt through his brain. He’d let down just once, to party with Quinlan, and his family had died.

No, the present circumstances with Samantha were temporary. As soon as he figured out what to do with her, he’d take back the reins.

When Samantha returned, however, wearing a loose, red-flowered dress to mid-calf, his heart paused in his chest. She was so beautiful and walked with willowy ease. Hell, even beyond her blood rose qualities, he was drawn to her.

So exactly how easy was it going to be to let her go?

*** *** ***

Samantha’s heart pounded and not just because she was in flight, or because Ethan’s heavily muscled arms surrounded her, or his tough, wild, grassy scent teased her senses. Nor was it a blood rose thing, although that existed as well, an acute awareness of Ethan’s feeding requirements like a temperature she could take by just thinking the thought.

No, the excitement she felt was all about her heritage, her faeness, and discovering what powers she possessed beyond her visions of the future.

She’d seen Vojalie’s expression when Samantha had come out of the vision, something approaching a deep sense of hope. The realm-world needed Samantha; she felt it in her bones.

She sighed as Ethan moved swiftly along the deep oak wood path that would eventually lead to the Guildhall. This middle portion of his realm appeared to be mostly wooded with numerous lakes and streams. She’d already learned that Sweet Gorge, the place in her vision, had once had a good-sized stream running through that met up with Bergisson River, the main water source for the realm.

But after the terrible Invictus massacre that had stripped Ethan of his family, the stream had mysteriously dried up. No one, in any of the Nine Realms, understood the cause, though the most powerful of the fae, like Vojalie, had detected an ancient fae magic at the top of the now-non-existent waterfall, near the eastern monolith of the gorge.

Vojalie had shared some of her thoughts before leaving Ethan’s house, that she had for a long time believed that an unknown, but very powerful fae had magically dammed up the stream and turned what used to be a lush resort into an abandoned, overgrown, weedy hollow.

As Samantha mulled this over, something within her faeness knew Vojalie was right and now it would seem that the increase in Invictus pairs and the strange disappearance of the stream might just be connected.

Each time Samantha thought of the recent vision that involved Sweet Gorge, she had a strong prescience that something critical would soon take place there and that she would have a role to play as well.

She shivered slightly as she considered the possibility of being more and more involved in Bergisson.

You okay?
Ethan pathed.

You could sense that?

She felt him sigh as he shifted to fly around an old tree stump.
My frequency is tuned into you now. It’s hard not to know what you’re feeling one minute out of two.

She could feel his distress as well, his concern for her and his ever-present anxiety about Bergisson.
I know what you mean. I’ll try to calm my thoughts for now.

Probably a good idea.

She did just that, and gave herself to the phenomenal experience of flying through his realm, held so firmly within his arms, and moving at a swift pace through a variety of terrain from woodland, to pasture, from hamlet to town. Crossing Bergisson river sent a cool sweep of moist air flowing over her, which felt wonderful.

Finally, the Guildhall grounds, from the day before, came into view. Today, all the tents were gone and only a handful of cars dotted the parking lot.

He moved slower on descent.

The female figure, on top of the highest building dome, moved slightly with the breeze, the metal wings free to swing back and forth.

As he flew her to the double-arched doors, standing wide with lights mounted on either side, several women entered the building.

I’m glad you’re with me
, she pathed.

I am, too. I’m feeling what you’re feeling, that the Guildhall has meaning to you and that I should be with you as well. This was the right choice. I didn’t mean to seem so harsh earlier.

Well, I’m sure that won’t be the first bump we encounter.

He chuckled softly, a good sign, as he touched down and brought her onto the light-colored pavers in front of the doorway.

Though she’d been in the building briefly the night before, she hadn’t explored the depths of the building, which she understood contained a variety of rooms meant only for fae use.

When the Invictus had attacked, the realm-folk had filed quickly and quietly, by long habit, into a vast underground system that had several secret, guarded exits well over a half mile distant in some places. Vojalie had told her that if necessary, she and several of the fae, could have gotten everyone to safety. But they were reluctant to expose these tunnels because of the Invictus and the possibility of traitors like Ry.

Vojalie, who had gone on ahead by just a few minutes to arrange the use of the central domed room, waved a greeting at the top of a short flight of carpeted stairs. The building was very quiet.

As Samantha mounted the stairs, she became acutely aware of Ethan, that he stood right behind her, very close, one hand on her hip. She felt his possessive need of her like waves of heat pouring off sun-drenched rocks.

She looked up at him and he met and held her gaze.
It’s always there, this desire between us, this need.

He smiled ruefully.
Yeah, it is.

His personal frequency reached for her and sent fingers touching places within her own fae frequency that ignited a sudden desire of her own. He didn’t try to communicate telepathically and in this moment anything verbal wasn’t necessary at all.

In so many ways, her situation with Ethan, with being a blood rose and a powerful fae, had complicated her life in ways she was just beginning to understand.

*** *** ***

Ethan had been in the fae-guild many times, especially the main banqueting hall for their annual dinners. But he could count on one hand the times he’d been upstairs, the place the powerful fae of his realm gathered to restore themselves, to refresh their power, to discover new abilities.

As Mastyr of Bergisson, he could go anywhere he liked. No door was closed to him, including the central meeting room, which the fae treated with deep respect. Both he and Samantha moved around the space, though in opposite directions.

The holiest of holies traveled in a circle around a central domed ceiling. In the center of that dome another portion of the ceiling rose an additional twenty feet, which made up the minaret, visible from outside.

What couldn’t be seen clearly, unless a person flew directly overhead, was the roof of the minaret, on which the winged woman stood. Thick, clear crystal, in an intricate pattern, constructed this portion of the Guildhall, visible only from inside the room.

Vojalie had once told him that great power could come from the right fae standing beneath all that crystal. But even she didn’t possess that kind of power. Whether Andrea, with abilities acknowledged to match Vojalie’s, could have accessed the power of the crystal would never be known since Andrea had refused testing repeatedly.

Vojalie said that during the day the sunlight shone in a kaleidoscope pattern, shifting as the sun moved overhead. At night, given the lit wall sconces that surrounded the large circular area, no patterns emerged. He imagined only during a very bright moon, at exactly the right angle, significant designs would emerge, and only then if all the lights were out.

“Ethan?” She called to him from across the room. Vojalie stood near the central circle.

He turned toward Samantha, who smiled as she held her hand out to him. He moved toward her as though by a familiar path that his feet had known for centuries. He took her extended hand. “What is it? Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Vojalie said you could do this with me. She even thought I might need your help.”

He glanced up at the crystal ceiling. “She wants you tested? Right now?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, I suppose not.” Vojalie was in charge of this part of the show, but his reticence came from the significance of the test.

He crossed with her, heading toward Vojalie and stepping down into a second circular tiled area in the center of the room, sunken by about a half foot.

Vojalie’s eyes were bright, expectant. He realized suddenly that the fae leader held high hopes for Samantha, but he wasn’t sure she understood the level of Samantha’s resistance to remaining in the Nine Realms.

The area was about fifteen feet in diameter, not a large space, and laid out in two shades of tile, all sustaining the circular pattern. In the very center, was a smaller circle of red tile about three feet across. A rough, gray stone pillar sat off to the side and held some sort of shallow stone bowl.

At first, he thought Vojalie would add water, a sort of purification ceremony. Instead, she added several twigs and using a long match, struck on the side of the stone, lit them.

A bitter scent, like oak leaves burning, permeated the space.

Samantha, apparently sensing something, moved close and using her cupped hands, brought the smoke toward her. Slowly her neck arched. Vojalie appeared solemn and gestured for Ethan to get close to the stone bowl as well.

The fragrance eased him, but as he glanced at Samantha, he saw ecstasy on her face as she breathed in the ancient scent.

“How could my mother have ever left Bergisson and all these experiences? I feel connected to the Guildhall as though the community pulses in every beat of my heart.” She opened her eyes and glanced from him to Vojalie, then back. “I can feel you both, your strength, your confidence, your boldness. You’re very much alike.”

He met Vojalie’s smiling eyes. “I always suspected as much,” he said. “You’ve got a warrior’s heart.”

Vojalie nodded. “I fight for the realm-world, just like you, but not with a blade or the palm-energy you can create.”

Samantha addressed Vojalie. “Why did my mother leave? I mean, what did you see from your perspective?”

Vojalie appeared suddenly very sad. “The death of her husband took a toll and she became increasingly unsettled, beyond the effects of her grief. There were times I even thought…” but she broke off, her fingers pressed to her lips.

“What?” Ethan asked.

Vojalie took several shallow breaths as though struggling with what she wanted to say. “I’ve never said this to anyone, but recently I’ve begun to wonder if some force interfered with her.”

“You mean like this rogue fae entity that seems to be present, but which we can’t pin down?”

Vojalie met and held Ethan’s gaze. “Yes, that’s what I’ve thought, for a very long time. What if the same magic that has ruined Sweet Gorge also got to Andrea, pushing her out of Bergisson?”

Ethan felt as though he’d been struck hard. His chin even lifted, arching his neck, as though he’d taken a blow. “But that would mean she wouldn’t have been responsible for what happened at the gorge forty years ago?”

Vojalie’s complexion turned pink as her anger rushed at him like a hot wind. “A fae who has a vision cannot be held responsible for what happens in the future. You’ve blamed Andrea these past four decades, and you were wrong to do so.”

Ethan scowled. “She saw a vision of the massacre at the gorge, but instead of letting me know, or anyone else who could have made a difference, she packed her bags and stole off illegally to Shreveport. My family died that night and one word of warning from Andrea could have saved them.” A cold, bitter sensation worked within his heart, burrowing deep. If Andrea were here today, he’d accuse her of misconduct and he’d see her tried in one of the fae-courts.