Embrace the Mystery [03] Blood Rose Series (8 page)

She returned with four pewter dragons, making quick work of securing the map to the table.

He leaned over it, smoothing his hands slowly across Grochaire as though bringing forth his physical memory of the contours of the land. He began at the ocean in the west, Maris Sol, to the sloping plain in the center and the Mountains of Ashur that bordered the access point to Walvashorr Realm.

A strange vibration met his palm when he covered the northeast area of Grochaire, which then ceased when he moved to the Walvashorr side. He repeated the process. His heart hammered in his chest because he knew that a section of Grochaire, his home realm, had been kept hidden from him his entire life.

“What is it?” Batya asked.

But Lorelei responded. “The enthrallment is there, at the point where Mastyr Quinlan slows the movement of his hand. I can feel it.”

“I, as well,” Davido added.

They all drew close, heads bent over the table, staring down at the map. Each pressed fingers over the area above the access point. Batya gasped. “The vibration is so strong.”

“Yes, that’s Ferrenden Peace and I know that Margetta wouldn’t be able to reach me there. I would be safe, for once, behind that level of enthrallment.”

Quinlan glanced at Lorelei, who now stood next to him. Her entire being radiated something he couldn’t place at first, then finally realized that the woman felt hopeful, something she must not have experienced for a very long time. For that reason alone, he knew he had to accept this challenge. If only he could actually see the location on the map.

Batya stood opposite him, her long fingers continuing to drift over the hidden space. He glanced up at her. “You have similar enthrallment powers. What do you suggest? Is there a way we can break through and look at the terrain here?”

Davido drew close. “I think I know how it might be done.”

Still leaning over the table, unwilling to move away from the map even a couple of inches, Quinlan shifted his gaze to the left and met the troll’s glowing eyes. “How? Tell me. Whatever is it, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” He even smiled. “I’ve always liked your spirit Quinlan. Always. Just thought you had too broad an eye for the ladies.”

Quinlan’s lips quirked.

At the same time, he picked up Batya’s hand and laid it over Quinlan’s. “This is the way. You touched my daughter’s arm earlier, and I felt her power increase, not just doubling as might be expected, but a real flare of her fae ability. Didn’t you feel it, either of you?”

Batya shook her head. “I was comforted, but I didn’t notice a shift in my power.”

Davido frowned, the three ridges of his forehead rippling slightly. “Odd. Well, perhaps it was because of your enthrallment shield.”

“I saw the shield flare and brighten with a red hue,” Lorelei offered.

“That’s it,” Davido said, lifting a finger in emphasis. He shifted back-and-forth sideways on his feet several times, a trollish sign of his excitement over what was happening.

Quinlan met Batya’s gaze and for a split-second, because her hand touched his, all he felt was his need for her, a surprising response in the middle of staring at a map and trying to uncover a millennia-old mystery. But desire was what he felt, a hunger for what came from her neck and what he’d been pursuing for weeks now.

Was there more to his pursuit of her than he understood?

Her breathing hitched and her chest rose and fell.

He blinked, forcing his thoughts and his needs away. He focused instead on their joined hands. Taking her fingers in a light clasp, he lifted them above the map.

“Do your enthrallment thing here.”

She nodded. He felt her focus hard on the map and on their joined hands. He saw the reddish hue light up the shield around the property, just as Lorelei had said, but all he felt from Batya was a soft humming sensation against his skin where their hands met.

But it was Lorelei who directed them. “Shift your hands to the right no more than an inch.” He moved their joined hands slightly.

“There,” Davido cried out. “I can see more of Grochaire. It’s working.”

“How do we sustain it,” Batya asked, “so that we can all see?”

Davido tapped the top of Quinlan’s hand. “I think your devotion to Grochaire might just do the trick. Use your other hand and caress the map, in the same way you’ve been doing, but while you do it have Batya cover that hand as well.”

Quinlan didn’t question the troll’s suggestion. The Nine Realms had thousands of forms of magic, one of the things he loved about his world, one of the mysteries, something that changed with each succeeding generation.

When Batya covered his left hand with her right palm, he felt a cool vibration travel up his wrist, all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He focused on the map and in slow circles pressed his fingers over the newly created area. He could see the land unfolding before his eyes, the symbols for mountains, for streams, for caves, everything. The names stunned him, however, because they could be found in the age-old children’s tales of the Nine Realms: the Great River Caverns of Pickerne, Gem Meadow, the Dead Forest that continued through the Pleach Mountains, and the Snowfields of Rayne. All on this map.

At the same time, he worked their joined hands east, pushing toward Walvashorr in small increments, until at last an entirely new section of map emerged, a bordered space called, of course, Ferrenden Peace.

Davido offered, “Vojalie said that once the location has been revealed, that you should contact Mastyr Seth.”

Quinlan turned toward Davido. “Then you knew Ferrenden Peace would be revealed in this way?” His temper shot up a couple of notches as Davido shrugged. “Anything else, old man? Anything else you’ve got in your satchel or any other words from Vojalie-the-wise? Any more instructions? Should we call on the eastern mastyrs and involve them as well?”

“No need to get snippy, Mastyr Quinlan. I do as I’m bid and part of that means holding back until the moment is ripe.”

Quinlan lost the rest of his patience. He lifted a brow, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“Oh, very well. Here is what my beloved wife told me. I’m sure she wouldn’t object, especially if she knew her dearest husband was being threatened by a powerful vampire.”

These taunting words slid right over Quinlan’s thick skin. “Spill, troll, or I’m likely to turn you upside down.”

At that, Davido, rather than being offended, laughed heartily. “I have not been troll-turned in a donkey’s age. Ah well, but I can see your nostrils are flaring now.” He glanced at Batya and Lorelei. “You must each pack several changes of clothing, sturdy footwear, and of course a toothbrush. Vojalie was not certain how long the journey would take.”

Batya’s brows rose. “These are very specific instructions.”

“She also said you weren’t to worry about warm clothing, that what you needed would be amply provided along the way.”

“Warm clothing?” At that, Quinlan turned to the map again and once more caressed the new section. A new reality emerged, “Sweet Goddess, will you look at that.”

“What?” three voices intoned.

“Do you see this section of the mountains?”

“Yes?” Three voices again.

“Two hundred years ago, I built a stronghold right here, right at the edge of the hidden section. Some part of me must have known.”

“Did you feel a connection to the place?” Batya asked.

He met her gaze. “Only that I thought it rugged and magnificent.” He glanced down at the map once more. “Holy shit.”

Again, three voices, cried out. “What?”

He met and held Batya’s gaze. “Your paintings, the ones you won’t sell, I think you laid out the entire journey for us.”

* * * * * * * * *

Batya’s flowered canvas satchel rested beside her right foot on the solid wood planks of her gallery floor. She stared at all four paintings and knew Quinlan had called it right. Each subject indicated some aspect of the places they’d have to go through to get to Ferrenden Peace. Traveling through the air, a meadow, a forest, and finally dense snowfields.

In the space of forty-eight hours, she’d gone from artist, gallery owner, and clinic healer to an adventurer trying to save a fellow realm-woman from enslavement, on a journey she’d painted years ago. Incredible.

Very realm.

Lorelei drew close and took Batya’s hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She met her friend’s gaze, then smiled. “This is the right path.”

“And you’re happy about it?”

At that, Batya laughed, pivoting toward Lorelei. “Hell, no, but it’s still the right path.”

Lorelei’s eyes grew bright in the way that Davido’s did quite often. Still holding Batya’s hand, she gave her fingers a squeeze. “Then, thank you.” She swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. “But there’s something else you should know.”

“Oh, sweet Goddess, there’s more?”

Quinlan, having reached the bottom of the stairs and still barefoot, called out, “Are you two ready?”

“Almost.” Batya stepped back so that he could see them both. “Apparently, Lorelei needs to share one more bit of news with us.”

Quinlan’s brows grew together in a tight, concerned frown, a familiar look for him. “What now?”

Davido moved up beside Quinlan. “It’s probably about Margetta. Vojalie said we’d get one more surprise. Tell us, child.”

“My mother will be here in a few minutes and she’s bringing a powerful wind with her, as well as a few chosen wraith-pairs.”

Batya turned to stare at her. “But how do you know that? A vision?”

“It’s a mother-daughter thing, part of the reason she wants me under her control. I can, to a small degree, predict her movements.”

Quinlan hurried toward them. “Then we’d better go.”

Davido joined them, leaning up to kiss Batya on the cheek. “Farewell, daughter. We part here. I must return to Vojalie. We have a strict agreement about the first year of a child’s life.”

“I know. I love you, papa.”

“And I you, my most precious, most beloved offspring.”

“Hug Bernice for me.”

“Of course I will.” His gaze moved past her. “But I fear your visitor has arrived.”

Batya glanced at the plate glass window and saw that a red wind flowed down the street. Margetta had arrived in a glow of golden light accompanied by a formidable array of wraith-pairs. She hovered beyond the window ready to attack surrounded by a thin enthrallment shield of her own making, which would in turn keep her Invictus brigade invisible to human eyes. The original mastyr vampire wraith-pairs flanked her.

She would have moved into action, but Davido gripped her elbow gently and pathed, “
Give Quinlan a chance. There’s a mystery here with him that you must pursue and don’t be afraid of Grochaire. But above all, remember the breadth of your heritage, that you are both troll and fae.

Before she could say anything more, her father vanished. He rarely did that, which sent a shiver through Batya. Davido had so much power, which he kept hidden from everyone and rarely used. That he could get past her shield as well as the ancient fae still stunned her. She might have asked for his assistance, but Davido had come only to support her. She knew his realm philosophies well, that each must face up to his own challenges.

Batya must deal with the ancient fae, now also known to be part wraith.

The next second, the new plate glass shattered and the high shrieking sound of Invictus wraiths punched through the air. At the same time a severe wind blew into the gallery, through her enthrallment shield, gathering up all the paintings and easels and carrying them past Batya, Quinlan, and Lorelei.

As she turned in the direction of the window, the golden glow of light softened in increments and Batya could see Margetta. But the one she knew to be evil turned out to be very beautiful with a complexion as smooth as glass, a straight nose, wide-set eyes and the faintly pointed chin of the fae.

“Mother,” Lorelei whispered quietly. “No.”

Margetta shifted her violet eyes from Batya to Lorelei. Her gaze narrowed as though directing her thoughts, but Lorelei lifted her chin and looked away.

Cocking her head, Margetta turned her attention fully on Batya, and not just her gaze but the force of her will as well. Ambition ruled Margetta more than anything else, to where she planned to dominate the Nine Realms at all costs, including the subjugation of her daughter.

But like hell Batya would give in to Margetta without a fight.

On instinct, she drew the enthrallment away from the building perimeter and into a tight protective shield around the three of them. “Quinlan, we’re ready to go.” She picked up her satchel and threw her arm around his neck. Lorelei did the same overlapping Batya’s arm. Quinlan gripped both waists.

“I have you both,” he said. “But Lorelei, would you do better to shift into your wraith-form?”

“No, I’m at my weakest as a wraith, especially if I fly.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go.”

Batya rarely flew with vampires, especially from the time she’d moved to Lebanon, so she wasn’t exactly used to this kind of flight. But Quinlan had muscles on muscles and held both women securely against his side, maneuvering them swiftly up the stairs to a side window.

Releasing them for a moment, he jerked the large double sash out of the molding, then dove into the air. He returned swiftly to pull Batya from the building, then Lorelei.

“Margetta!” Batya shouted. The woman’s gold light bloomed suddenly and her wind frequency struck hard, pressing them back against the brick just to the side of the window.

Batya pathed to Quinlan.
We’ve got to get out of here.

* * * * * * * * *

Quinlan closed his eyes. He focused on his essential physical prowess and battling vibration. Gathering his warrior strength, he shunted Margetta’s wind aside, but only for a few seconds. The wind returned stronger than ever, despite the fact that he pressed back with all his might. She’d created a formidable wind, something he’d never experienced before and it felt inexhaustible, the way Batya’s shield felt, as though the ancient fae could sustain the hurricane indefinitely.

Batya, I can’t hold against her. Can you add your own abilities? Your battle frequency?
Most realm-folk carried all the known frequencies, to lesser or greater degrees.