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The housekeeper grinned. “Nothing better than coffee after a night of gymnastics.”
Even Lorelei smiled.
In ordinary circumstances, Batya might have been embarrassed because it seemed her lovemaking with Quinlan had been a little loud. But thoughts of what had transpired, of the blood-giving-and-taking, of his vibration, of breaking through her mating frequency, of having his beautiful girth inside her then at the end, his weight on her, flowed through her mind like a never-ending stream.
She shivered.
“Are you all right?”
Batya shifted her gaze to Anthea. Something nagged at her, but she wasn’t sure what it was. “He’s pretty amazing.”
“Yes, he is.” Anthea took another sip. “I’ve served in many homes over the years as housekeeper. Mastyr Quinlan is very demanding, but he’s just, and he always has an eye to everyone’s comfort. No, that’s not the right word, because sometimes we’re uncomfortable. He has an eye to our well-being. Yes, that’s more what I want to say about him.”
“Well-being.” Batya brought her mug to her lips and turned to lean against the island, slightly away from Anthea and Lorelei. From the beginning, this time with Quinlan had been full of mystery. She narrowed her eyes. “He started coming around a few weeks ago, intent as men like him often are, on getting me into bed. I always knew his reputation. But look where it led.”
She pivoted, resting her hip against the marble. Meeting Lorelei’s gaze, she continued, “One night, Margetta shows up and nearly kills him, but if he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been doing what men have always done, you’d be enslaved now and my guess is I’d be dead.”
“I think you’re right.” Lorelei tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear. “I owe Quinlan and you so very much.”
“Has he been here, earlier I mean?”
“Only to eat,” Anthea said. “He’s in his library with the map he brought from Lebanon. Henry’s with him. They had conference calls with both Rafe, his second-in-command of the Grochaire vampire brigade, and Mastyr Seth of Walvashorr.” She set her mug down and slid off her stool. “But I have strict orders to feed you a big meal and I will, if you’re hungry.”
Batya had fed a vampire last night. She planted a hand over her stomach. “I’m starved.”
Chapter Five
Quinlan stared at the upper central portion of the map, at what he and Batya together had uncovered between Grochaire and Walvashorr Realms.
He shook his head. “I don’t see any other way. We’re going to have to find the Pickerne Caverns if we want to make it to Gem Meadow alive, any of us.”
Henry kept touching the region that actually said, ‘Ferrenden Peace’, and the long section before the area called the Dead Forest—another mystery. “I can’t believe I’m looking at the real deal, but I can feel the place right here. The vibrations are powerful.” He let his hand rest over the words. “This wasn’t supposed to exist. I read these tales as a child, of a queen who secluded herself to keep her people safe. Do you think she’s real as well?”
Quinlan shrugged. “Hell if I know. But at this point, anything seems possible.”
Once more, he ran his left hand over the western portion of the map that encompassed his realm. The concept of a straight up battle had always appealed to him, of fighting for the health of a people, for the rights of the individual, for justice. He fought the Invictus wraith-pairs because they destroyed the innocent, often drinking them to death and casting them aside. The poor made excellent targets living unprotected as they did in those tracts of land where the Invictus hunted on a regular basis.
But he could count on one hand the times he’d functioned as prey rather than predator and he didn’t like the feeling one bit. Margetta sought to bring her daughter under her control and his job meant staying one step ahead of her, not getting caught by her extremely powerful vampire-wraith Invictus pairs, and somehow getting her safely to Ferrenden Peace.
For that reason alone, he felt a profound urge to move, to take the women under his arm, and fly them straight over the newly uncovered Pleach Range to safety. But both the map and Batya’s paintings had illuminated the way and he was realm-enough to know when to submit to the whims of the Goddess and when to push back.
Earlier, he’d made contact with Rafe and relayed all that had happened. Fortunately, Rafe had seen no signs of what he now described as the mastyr vampire wraith-pairs that had attacked Quinlan in Lebanon. With any luck, those pairs would stay on Lorelei’s trail and away from the regular Grochaire population.
Rafe had taken care of the dead Guardsmen at the access point and had set up a small force of twenty in their stead. He’d offered to support Quinlan on the trek to Ferrenden Peace, but his mastyr instincts told him that his Grochaire Guard needed to keep going out, as they normally did, to battle the Invictus, town-by-town.
When he’d finally reached Seth, who served as the Mastyr of Walvashorr Realm, he’d listened without offering either comment or question. In the end, he’d affirmed exactly what Quinlan knew in his gut to be true. “This whole situation has serious realm undercurrents. And I am at your service.”
Seth didn’t express amazement at the discovery of Ferrenden Peace either, or that the ancient fae had managed to create a new brand of super-powerful wraith-pairs, making use of lesser mastyr vampire, or even that the ancient fae now had a name. Of course, Seth had always been stoic by nature.
However, he agreed readily to track Quinlan’s journey from the western reaches of Walvashorr, to hopefully meet up with him in Ferrenden Peace just in case Margetta should find her way there as well.
With his own realm secure in Rafe’s hands, and Seth ready to move toward the land of fables as well, Quinlan had only one issue to settle, namely, where to begin.
According to the map, the Great River Caverns of Pickerne led to Gem Meadow. However, Quinlan had no idea how to get to them. With his finger, he traced the symbols for the caves. He peered closer. A smudge lay to the left. He rubbed, but nothing came off.
He used the magnifier once more and saw that what he’d perceived as a smudge was actually the shape of a shallow bowl. “What do you make of this?”
Henry took the magnifier and bent over as well. He extended the glass, then drew it close.
Rising up abruptly, he snapped his fingers and the three ridges of his troll forehead rose and rippled slightly. “I know where this is, mastyr, and it’s not far from here.
