Embrace the Mystery [03] Blood Rose Series (2 page)

She knew who she was in Lebanon.

Grochaire and the Realm-world swallowed her up, using her combo troll-fae powers until she sank under the weight of it.

She could never go back to that life and yet here she was, about ready to open herself up to the Mastyr of Grochaire Realm himself, the legendary Quinlan and his god-like physique.

Her brush fell from her hands as she lifted her gaze back to the window, where she could see him hovering, holding himself in place through levitation alone, his vibration still a beautiful sensation.

Hang-it-all, she was going to let him in.

But just as she slipped from bed and her long skirts fell into place to her ankles, a brilliant white-yellow light flashed behind Quinlan. He whipped around, then dropped from sight as shrieking sounded outside her building, the kind that came from Invictus wraith-pairs.

She heard him shout something, maybe the word, ‘run’. She wasn’t sure, but the high-pitched battle screams meant only one thing, Invictus.

She couldn’t believe that the Invictus had come to Lebanon. From what she’d always understood, the deadly wraith-pairs didn’t have the ability to pass the realm access points and enter the U.S. She’d always thought herself safe because of it.

In the street, a red wind streamed.

* * * * * * * * *

Quinlan stood on the sidewalk with his back to Batya’s art gallery, uncertain what the hell he was looking at. He waited with lowered shoulders, his arms firing up his battle frequency so that he could release killing energy in streams through the palms of his hands. He even had a dagger in his leathers if this battle got up-close-and-personal.

But what the hell was he looking at?

He could almost make out the shape of a woman held within a bright yellow glow, a sight that made his vampire eyes ache. He smelled the female though, a dark rancid scent that he knew from a battle six months ago in Bergisson Realm. An ancient fae had cursed the area and dammed up the waterfall at Sweet Gorge. Together, the Mastyr of Bergisson and his blood rose, Samantha, had created a new paradise there and the fae’s stench was gone.

But Quinlan would never forget that smell and it was here now, in Lebanon.

However, it would appear she’d shifted her attention to him, or maybe to Batya. But what would the ancient fae want with an ex-patriot, living at the Tennessee human earth access point, and running a free-clinic for other disenfranchised realm-folk? Batya wasn’t exactly a threat to the Invictus, the deadly wraith-pairs that many now believed the ancient fae had created.

But whatever this was, Batya was no match for the powerful fae, which was why he’d shouted for her to run.

From the shadows behind the golden glow, four figures emerged, levitating just a few feet above the ground.

Invictus wraith-pairs.

Yet something more.

Bigger.

Deadlier.

Two female wraiths each bonded with Guard-sized vampires, as big as him. But they weren’t regular vampires at all. Holy shit, each was a mastyr vampire. The Nine Realms had over two dozen mastyr vampires beyond those, like him, who ruled each realm. Only the most powerful mastyrs became rulers, a law that had been part of the Nine Realm world for millennia.

His nostrils flared. A bitter edge reached him, emanating from the Invictus, something cloying that reeked of the ancient fae and both pairs smelled of it, like wet ashes, a sure sign that this new version of the Invictus was her creation.

Great.

The battling vibration of both Invictus pairs swarmed toward him and in this moment he knew he was dead.

He could have fought a dozen normal wraith-pairs, but not these two together. Maybe not even one alone because the bond between wraith and mastyr vampire had created unimaginable power between each couple.

He thought of Batya in her studio. What would happen to her if he couldn’t stop them? He didn’t want to think about that.

A woman’s voice called out. “This is all wrong. He’s not supposed to be here.” The ancient fae drifted sideways, her features indistinct, her glow still hurting the backs of his corneas. He shaded a hand over his eyes.

And why wasn’t he supposed to be here?

Her words meant only one thing, that she’d come for Batya.

The thought of her in the hands of any of these monsters increased and focused his battle energy. He lifted his hands. “All right, motherfuckers, which of you wants to die first?”

* * * * * * * * *

Trembling, Batya made her way to the lower gallery floor and hid behind one of the pillars. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing and her heart beat so hard in her chest she thought it would explode.

A soft, feminine voice called to her from behind. “Batya, what’s going on?”

Batya turned toward the doorway that led to the back rooms and her assistant’s apartment. Lorelei had been her solid right-arm for two years now, helping her run both the gallery and the free-clinic. “I don’t know, but I think Mastyr Quinlan’s in trouble.”

Lorelei drew close. She stood just slightly shorter than Batya as she stared out at the strange golden light and the massive wraith-pairs that looked ready to eat Quinlan alive.

“He’ll never stand against her.”

“Against who?” Batya could vaguely make out a woman’s shape.

“She’s the one, the ancient fae.”

A serious shock ripped through Batya’s body. “Holy shit. You mean the one that caused all those problems in Bergisson, at Sweet Gorge?”

Lorelei nodded. “I know her.”

Batya felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach. “What the hell do you mean
you know her
? You know the ancient fae?”

Lorelei sighed heavily. “Yes. I can see her plainly, too. Can you?”

“No. I see a female figure. That’s all.”

“Mastyr Quinlan won’t survive this attack. She has too much power.”

Batya didn’t know what to do. She could sense Quinlan’s battle frequency gearing up, but she could also feel the other vampires, that they were super-charged. She understood then that Quinlan showed nothing but bravado, that he knew he was going to die.

“We only want the woman.” The ancient fae’s voice sounded rough.

“You can’t have her.” Quinlan’s deep voice roared along the street, easily breaching the gallery window.

“I have to do something. He can’t die. I can’t let this happen.”

“But what can you do?” Lorelei asked. “We’re lost. All of us. No one can withstand the ancient fae. Even now, her power ripples over my skin.”

Batya turned to Lorelei and saw that tears tracked her pale cheeks. She trembled head-to-foot. Fear reeked from her as well, but not a sudden kind of panic, something that tasted metallic on the air like she’d lived with it for decades.

She didn’t know very much about Lorelei. She’d shown up a couple of years ago and stayed to help, but Batya didn’t ask questions, one of her rules in the ex-pat community. She believed it was important for all ex-patriots, those realm-folk who chose to live in the U.S apart from their birth-realms, to feel like they could start over without having their histories made public.

Suddenly, the air outside the gallery lit up and streams of killing energy passed from Quinlan to the hovering wraith-pairs. Quinlan rose into the air as well, at least three feet off the ground.

He looked magnificent, even from behind, because he held his arms wide and flung impossible arrays of battle energy at the enemy, something that would have destroyed a normal wraith-pair with the first blow.

Yet the Invictus couples barely moved as they slowly advanced on him, pressing their joined energy hard at him in brilliant streams of alternating red and blue light.

The golden aura of the ancient fae grew brighter as the battle raged. Maybe she gained energy from the sight of destruction.

Probably.

The woman was evil.

Batya heard Lorelei’s soft sobs, but her own inclination leaned away from sadness or even pity in this moment. She’d grown up with the destruction that the Invictus pairs could inflict, which was one of the reasons she’d left Grochaire in the first place. She’d had enough of the war.

The other reason began to forge a heavy vibration through her body, the part of her that was monumentally and powerfully fae. For a moment, she even wondered if she could pull this off, because she’d kept her power dormant for the past century.

Yet with one man’s life hanging by a couple of blue streams of energy, she gathered her power. Quinlan belonged to her, not to these vile, wraith-vampire Invictus pairs and he sure as hell didn’t belong to an ancient fae who even she could detect smelled like rotting garbage.

“Stay back, Lorelei. But don’t worry, this won’t hurt you.”

Batya moved forward and began accessing one of her powers, a realm frequency that many fae shared that made use of enthrallment in many different forms. The canvases and easels all around her began to vibrate and shake as she gathered her power. Some of them even fell to the floor.

Damn the Invictus anyway and if this ancient fae had charge of them, damn her as well.

Everything happened at once.

Both massive wraith-pairs charged Quinlan. A brief flash of red and blue light flew into the air on impact, then Quinlan crashed through the window.

“There she is,” the ancient fae called out. “Get her.”

But without giving it too much thought, Batya sent her enthrallment power outward and wrapped her gallery up inside a shield, like she’d just set a hard cement wall all around the perimeter of the entire building.

Beyond the shield, the woman ensconced in the golden light writhed. “Where is she? What happened? Where did everything go? What the hell is this?”

“Mistress we don’t know. But we hit Mastyr Quinlan with everything. Wherever he is, he’s probably dead.”

“Do you think that’s any consolation? I don’t give a ripe fig about his ass. I wanted the woman.” Her voice vibrated with rage.

Lorelei joined her. “What did you do, Mistress Batya?”

Normally, Batya didn’t allow anyone to address her in the ancient realm way, but she let it pass for now since she had a bigger problem. She had one half-dead mastyr vampire lying on a bed of shattered glass.

She dropped to her knees beside Quinlan. He had burns all over his body and most of his heavy battle leathers and Guardsman coat were gone. His long, thick, black hair remained intact, but she wasn’t sure how.

“Will you help me, Lorelei? I need to get him to the healing room.”

“Of course, but will your shield hold?”

“Yes.”

Lorelei glanced toward the broken window. “But how are you maintaining it?”

Batya met her gaze, staring at her hard. “The same way, I think, that you were able to see that bitch out there.”

A blush crawled up Lorelei’s cheeks. Batya had suspected for a long time that Lorelei had many secrets and tonight she’d put a spotlight on at least one of them.

Lorelei merely nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Now do you, or do you not, have levitation powers here?” Batya’s own abilities in that area, much to her dismay, left a lot to be desired. Many powerful fae could fly, but even with her three-hundred-plus years, she still couldn’t lift her feet off the ground. But she could raise other things for short bursts, like near-dead vampires.

Lorelei sighed. “I do.”

“Then you take one side of this big Guardsman and I’ll take the other.”

When Batya slid her arms beneath Quinlan, he moaned heavily. She sensed that a number of his bones were broken and that left alone, he’d die.

She sent a calming vibration through his mind and somehow that did the trick. He dropped into a much-needed coma.

When Lorelei worked her arms beneath Quinlan as well, and she opened her levitating power, some of it zinged against Batya.

I’ve never felt anything like that. Who the hell are you?

Lorelei’s lips quirked.
An ex-pat, like you. That’s all.

Like hell.
But Batya smiled.

“On three.” She counted down and together, two Grochaire ex-pats, levitated a near-dead mastyr vampire, weighing in at a heavily muscled two-forty and not an ounce less, and carried him through the blown-apart gallery to the infirmary off the back hallway.

The healing room held a large bed so that family members could often sleep beside their loved ones, or just be near them when they passed.

Mostly realm-folk survived whatever trauma or disease came at them, one of the perks of being long-lived.

Yet Batya had noticed that sometimes the spirit of her fellow realm inhabitants gave out when a human spirit didn’t. That was one of the mysteries of her world.

As she and Lorelei worked to get the blood-feeding-tube down Quinlan’s throat, she doubted he’d succumb to a loss of will, or anything else like that. Only these levels of burns and physical destruction could take Mastyr Quinlan out.

For the next several hours, she and Lorelei took turns donating blood to the feeding-tube apparatus. Vampires were excellent self-healers and more than anything, blood would do the trick. So together, they donated and watched as minute upon minute his skin knitted together and his broken bones stretched out and re-formed properly.

She kept him out cold so that anytime his powerful conscious mind tried to rise back to the surface, she’d send a reassuring vibration, from her healing frequency, straight to the center of his brain. He seemed to know her and to acknowledge her presence, because he didn’t fight her, but each time settled back into his unconscious state to let his body do the work.

Lorelei brought her a tray of food of fresh fruit, an orange muffin, and a vanilla yogurt. Batya didn’t speak as she ate, but she did inspect the enthrallment shield she’d created. The preternatural wall held and wouldn’t budge unless she made a decision to release it. She could also open up small portions in order to let people come and go if necessary.

Though the wraith-pairs had left at dawn, an elven female, wearing protective sun-gear, stood guard across the street within a faint enthrallment shield so that the humans couldn’t see them. The ancient fae was having her gallery watched.