B00XXAC6U6 EBOK (2 page)

Regan knew the woman was monstrously ambitious but what troubled her more than anything was how calm she seemed. After all, she’d lost a huge battle in Swanicott Realm in which over two hundred Invictus pairs had either been killed or sent to Mastyr Ethan and Samantha for rehabilitation. Everything about Margetta’s demeanor did not speak of a woman pressed against a wall and fighting for her existence.

Instead, Regan sensed the Ancient Fae was poised to accomplish what she’d been working toward for hundreds of years, from the time Margetta had created the first deadly Invictus wraith-pair.

When Regan heard the lock in the grate, she levitated slowly down to the tower floor. Though she was a fae with considerable power and had flown up to the sill, she wasn’t strong enough to break through the iron lock on the heavy wood door.

She wore a soft linen gown, a garment Margetta had provided for her after telling her she’d burned Regan’s ‘disgusting’ leather jacket as well as her jeans.

When she’d heard the news, Regan had quieted her emotions. She’d had that jacket for a long time, at least three decades. She’d tried it on just for fun at an open air market. In a moment of pure serendipity, Ian had seen her in it, a chance meeting never again repeated. He’d told her he loved the look on her.

The moment he left the stall, she’d bought the jacket, one of the few spontaneous purchases she’d ever made.

Now it had no doubt been tossed onto one of the many bonfires burning throughout the camp.

She’d even shed tears, which seemed absurd given her situation. Except the loss of her coat had been very symbolic; she had no protection against Margetta and very little control.

The door opened and the lovely fae-slave, Sandra, walked in. Behind her, but remaining in the doorway, was a very fat slave-troll with a dark look in his eye. He held the key to the tower door in his hand.

As soon as Sandra was inside, the troll shut the door and Regan could hear the lock turning in the grate. He then peered through the small barred opening to keep an eye on them.

Sandra kept her head bent and made no eye contact. In her hands she carried a tray bearing her second meal.

Regan had many times begged Sandra to help her, to bring her a key by which she might escape the tower. She’d even been encouraging Sandra to come with her, though she doubted this would be possible given the presence of the guard who always accompanied her.

But as Regan caught sight of the rolled up towel clutched tight beneath Sandra’s arm, Regan’s heartrate soared. Sandra never brought extra linens with her at this hour.

“As you requested last time, Mistress,” Sandra said pointedly. “I brought a towel for you.”

Regan had made no such request. “Thank you. I’m grateful you remembered. And how are you, Sandra?”

“Very well, thank you, Mistress.” Her tone was breathy, as she slid her gaze to Regan and dipped her chin once.

She set the tray on the small table, then moved to the washstand. She tucked the towel next to a basin and companion water pitcher.

There could only be one explanation for the towel. Sweet Goddess, Sandra had brought the key.

In the month Regan had been imprisoned, she’d learned something of Sandra’s history. She’d been imprisoned for thirty years and had served as a personal maid to Margetta all that time. Sandra had a sad aura that instinctively felt like more to Regan than just a reflection of her enslaved state.

Though Sandra had spoken only a little of her previous life, Regan knew she’d lost a husband and young son when she’d been abducted. Regan was pretty sure they’d died in an Invictus attack. But she’d never pressed Sandra for details. Again, her sadness had told its own tale.

Sandra represented for Regan all she despised in Margetta’s regime. Worse, there wasn’t a thing Regan could do for the slave.

By month-long habit, Regan sat down on the stool in front of the table. Sandra moved each item off the tray in a measured sequence of bowl and plate first, then embroidered cloth napkin, large spoon, and a small ceramic cup of blackberry wine.

Regan held her hands together in a tight clasp, her gaze never straying from the lovely braid draped over her Sandra’s left shoulder. The young fae woman had beautiful red hair, a faintly pointed chin, dark eyes, and a smooth, delicate complexion.

Regan had to know, so she spoke mind-to-mind.
You brought the key? It’s in the towel, right?

For one of the few times in the month of service, Sandra smiled.
I did.

Because Sandra was blocking the troll’s view of Regan, she touched Sandra’s arm.
Can you come with me? I’m a strong flyer.

Sandra shook her head.
I might have my own way out. But if not, do all you can to take this monster down.

Regan’s eyes filled with tears.
I will. May the Goddess be with you.

And with you.

No other words followed, just two tears tracking down Sandra’s cheeks. She looked different somehow to Regan, maybe more confident. And she hoped with all her heart the slave would somehow make her escape as well.

Sandra took the empty tray from off the table and nodding to the troll, the key could once more be heard turning in the lock. When the door opened, Sandra disappeared into the small hallway beyond. The sounds of her steps as well as the troll’s faded down the steep stairwell.

Regan moved to the door and listened intently. She would have to wait a few minutes, to make certain they were gone before she attempted her escape. Yet now that the moment was at hand, each second felt like an eternity.

When she sensed enough time had passed, she unrolled the towel and with trembling fingers picked up the key. Returning to the door, she slid it in the lock and after a couple of tries, felt it give way.

An enormous swell of emotion rushed through her and it felt like freedom.

~ ~ ~

When Ian reached the streambed, he didn’t fly down to the bottom but crossed to the large outcropping of granite twenty feet away from the mist wall.

Regan,
he pathed, using telepathy.
Are you there? Please answer me, sweetheart. This time, I beg you, please answer me.

Though he hadn’t received a single response in all these weeks, he still went through the drill, speaking to her as though she was there.
I’ve been here every night, hour after hour, since your disappearance from Swanicott Realm, since Margetta took you away from your home. Your servant witnessed what happened and I followed after you, but the trail ended here, though I’m not sure where ‘here’ is.

I know I’m at the top of Dark Gorge and at the foothills of the Dauphaire Mountain Range. But I can’t even see the mountains from here. Margetta has a spell in this area. I brought Ben here once to have a look as well, but he wasn’t able to see the wall of mist, just me, and you know how much power Ben has. Ben said all he saw was the forest, but when I told him to enter the woods, he couldn’t do it. He simply felt a tremendous urge to go the opposite direction, Margetta’s spell is that powerful.

Regan, please answer me. Talk to me, Sweetheart.

He felt a sudden pressure on his telepathy.
Ian? Sweet Goddess, is that you?

The sound of Regan’s voice inside his head, set every warrior instinct on fire. He lowered his knees and stretched out both hands. His battle energy swept down his arms. If the Invictus came, he was ready.
Regan, are you okay? Is this really you?

Yes, it’s me. I’m trapped in Margetta’s fortress, or at least I was. I’m outside now, but I don’t know which way to go. The mist is so thick from here. When I was imprisoned in the tower, I could see for miles, but not now, not outside.

Ian felt both relieved and distressed at the same time. He’d been right all along; the Ruby Fae was here.

Regan,
I can’t move forward, because of the wall of mist. I’m on the granite outcrop above Dark Gorge. And where in the fortress are you exactly?

I’m on a catwalk, on the southern side. But the wall of mist is right there as well. Ian, Margetta has a large army here. I doubt even your Vampire Guard and Shifter Brigade combined could defeat it.

Ian took a moment to process this information.
Try not to think about that right now. It’s more important to find a way for you to escape. We can deal with her army later.
But with so much adrenaline flowing through his system, he became acutely aware that the blood supply Charlotte provided him wouldn’t last very long.
Shit.

What? What’s wrong?

Whatever we’re going to do, we have to do it fast. My blood starvation is fucking me up.

She didn’t respond right away, which probably meant she was thinking things through.
Don’t leave yet, Ian. Please. I’ve waited a month for this chance and I have a feeling it’ll be the only one I’ll get. Margetta intends to marry me off to a mastyr vampire aligned with her, but she’s waiting for some fulfillment of my power.

Ian’s heartrate ramped up as a long string of curses flipped through his head. Finally, he pathed,
I’m here.

Waiting, however, became torture, since the spots had returned and once more flew before his eyes. He was worse off than he thought, but he couldn’t leave her now, not when he’d finally made contact after all this time.

Regan, I’m going to try something. Focus on me as hard as you can. I want to see if I can home in on your telepathy and establish your location.

Oh, dear Goddess,
Regan cried.
I can hear Margetta shouting. I don’t have much time.

Ian used what was left of his strength to reach through the mist with his mind, hunting for Regan. He had to find her and do it fast. For the helluva it, he added his battle vibration, stretching his hands toward the mist.

He’d been right to experiment because suddenly he found her. He couldn’t see a damn thing, but he could sense her location fifty feet in the air, on the catwalk, but no more than a hundred yards almost directly in front of him. So close.

Staying focused, he found a path growing visible within his mind, the one that would take him to Regan. He’d be running blind through the mist, but without another thought, he headed into the spelled area and took each jagged curve of the path that presented itself within his head.

Regan, I’m coming to you right now. Be ready.

Margetta’s not far.

He put on some speed.

As he moved, he brushed up against tree branches over and over, yet never once ran into anything. His path was true.

When he reached his destination, he could finally see the gray stone walls of the fortress right in front of him. Looking up, the mist still cloaked the higher reaches.

Ian!

He shouted telepathically,
Levitate straight down. I know you can’t see anything, but I’m right below you.

I hope to hell you are.

Have faith, but keep pathing to me.

I’m jumping now. Ian, find me. Find me fast.

But he could feel her as if he was actually looking at her. He held out his arms and only during the last second of her leap, did he finally see her. She landed in his arms, and he caught her against his chest.
I’ve got you.

She clasped him hard around the neck.
Thank you.

We’ve got to get out of here.
With nothing to home in on for the return trip, he rose high into the air above what had to be the forest canopy. He then headed in a southerly direction toward Dark Gorge.

The moment he broke free of the mist, he was surprised to find he’d flown a full quarter mile up into the air.

He began a quick descent, however, knowing Margetta would give chase. The moment he dropped below the cliff edge, he could breathe easier.

Spots, however, started flying in front of his vision again, reminding him how far he’d pushed his blood starvation. For a moment, his levitating skill faltered.

Ian!

Regan’s voice brought him around, and he had just enough left in him to regain his balance. He flew swiftly toward the Peralin River and finally landed them both on the opposite bank in a nest of shrubs, deep in the gorge.

All went black.

~ ~ ~

Regan brought herself to a sitting position. The landing had been hard and she was bruised, but safe.

She worked at clearing her head.
Ian?

But nothing returned.

He lay sprawled on his back, his sunglasses gone. His usual golden complexion had paled and his eyes were closed. She’d never seen him look so bad.

She knew he was close to coma, after which death would follow swiftly. All mastyrs were cursed with this kind of chronic condition, but she didn’t know why Ian had let himself get to such a dangerous state.

Her mind made a swift adjustment. She drew her wrist to her lips and using her teeth tore through a vein. She cried out in pain, but she had to do it.

She forced his mouth open, then placed her arm over his lips, stroking his throat.
Ian, drink. Please, take my blood.

Her veins released their nourishment readily and at first he gagged and choked. But when he finally got some of her blood into his stomach, his eyes fluttered open and he grabbed her wrist, forming a seal.

He was wild-eyed as he suckled.

And it hurt, but she didn’t care. She’d made it out alive and Ian would live. Each had come so close to death.

She glanced over her shoulder. Through the shrubbery behind which she was hidden, she could see a golden glow at the top of the gorge.

Margetta had followed them.

Though a thousand feet distant, the Ancient Fae was no doubt searching the shallow bank along the river. Regan wasn’t sure Margetta would actually be able to see them, but she didn’t want to risk being caught.

We have to leave,
she pathed to Ian.
Margetta is standing on the outcropping staring into the gorge.

Does she have Invictus with her?

No.

Then, we’re out of here.

Ian became one fluid movement as he pulled her against him, while holding her wrist tight to his mouth. He swept her swiftly downriver, flying close to the water through Dark Gorge. Faster and faster he went as her blood restored him.