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“I’ve got you.”
“But we’re still rising.”
“Just hold on.”
He needed to figure this out, but the situation was unfamiliar to him. If this had been a regular battle, he’d be issuing orders left and right to Henry and his brigade. He would have already set up a battle shield that would have protected the women from assault and capture.
But how was he supposed to battle a fae of incalculable power, who could operate an unknown frequency through Batya’s enthrallment shield? The only thing he had going for him was that apparently there were limits to Margetta’s power because right now, Quinlan kept Lorelei in a safe position within the shield. He just didn’t know how long this would last or if the damn woman had something else up her sleeve.
* * * * * * * * *
Batya trembled, but not from fear. A terrible jealousy pierced her body and mind so that she could hardly move. She stared up at Quinlan, holding Lorelei in his arms, and inwardly screamed at him to let her go. Part of her knew he had to do this, had to hold her because it was the only way to keep her out of Margetta’s hands. But the other part of her demanded action now. If she had flight capability, she would have levitated straight up into the air, ripped Lorelei out of Quinlan’s arms, and beat her to a pulp for daring to touch him.
At the same time, thank the Goddess, her battle frequency had assessed the situation and given her enough self-control to think.
Quinlan needed help, as in now.
She’d helped him before and not just with the enthrallment shield, or her blood, or her healing power, but with her battling frequency.
She called to Henry who flew straight to her. “Can you get me up there? I need to support Quinlan.”
“You got it.” He called two of his strongest trolls and the next thing she knew, the men caught her beneath her arms and flew her to Quinlan.
As soon as she reached him she planted a hand on his shoulder and let her battle power strike home.
Instantly, he began to descend still keeping Lorelei tight in his arms.
Just as he reached the ground however, Batya felt Margetta’s power flood the space. Batya flew backward and would have fallen hard except that the trolls, extremely well-trained, went after her and scooped her up setting her on her feet to give her a soft landing.
Once more, Quinlan battled high in the air against Margetta’s hold just a few feet from the enthrallment shield. Whatever power Margetta utilized, would soon take Lorelei out of the safety-zone.
Several fires erupted again in the forest all around them but the width of the meadow kept the brigade safe, at least for now.
Batya didn’t know what to do. She stared up at Lorelei, who had started shouting, maybe at Margetta, she couldn’t tell.
She turned in Margetta’s direction. She could see the beautiful ancient fae, her face twisted with effort, her arms outstretched, her energy aimed at her daughter and Quinlan.
The past two days once more shot through her mind, that Quinlan’s desire had brought him to Lebanon, to her gallery. Surely, sex couldn’t have been the only force. Surely there had to be more to this equation, something very realm, and no, she didn’t want to explore it. She wanted to stay detached from this life, but right now she didn’t have that option, not if she was to help save Lorelei, and whatever other ramifications her capture might have on the Nine Realms.
She was therefore going to have to do the most difficult thing of all, and she really didn’t want to.
Henry had alluded to it earlier, some new kind of power that she possessed.
She focused inward, on her various frequencies, especially on her faeness. She picked up her most powerful vibrations that related to her fae ancestry, but nothing came to her as different, special, or even particularly powerful.
Quinlan inched toward the top of her shield, barely three feet away now.
Batya’s heart hammered in chest.
Once more, she explored what lay inside her, the visionary power, so typical of the fae, but which had translated to her paintings, her healing power, her battle frequency, but nothing surged even a little to show her the way.
Her father’s words came to mind, his parting thoughts about exploring her attraction to Quinlan as well as her heritage.
Henry flew high in the air, along with a force of four powerful trolls. They created a kind of flotilla above Quinlan and Lorelei, trapping them beneath the upper layer of the shield.
They’d stopped the upward rise, at least for a moment. But once again, Margetta’s power rolled through, passing beyond the shield in the form of a great wind, and the trolls blew toward the south, like dry fall leaves.
Nothing seemed to be working.
She closed her eyes, setting her attention on her heritage, the entire breadth of it, all the years that Davido had raised her, cared for her, given her his troll wisdom.
Davido had been a rock in her life, troll that he was, so different from her faeness.
Yet she was part troll.
Her eyes popped wide. She might be essentially and genetically fae, but every species passed along recessive qualities here and there, like bright rocks forcing a stream to flow around them.
She turned inside once more, only this time, she planted her thoughts on Davido, on the mysteries that had surrounded this strange time with Quinlan, on the arrival of Margetta who had been stunned to find Quinlan in the gallery.
Quinlan was the true anomaly in this situation. Margetta would have known to expect Batya at her own gallery, but somehow, in all her preparations, she hadn’t predicted Quinlan’s presence.
Her mind began to work in a way that resembled her father, with a kind of instinctive troll-like precision that flowed from one thought to the next easily. Her faeness was all swirls, magic, and light, but this more rational part of her emerged with a kind of numerical precision.
She let the frequency flow, of instincts and calculation.
She stared up at Quinlan and stretched her vision to see him more clearly. He was only a foot away from the top of the shield. Sweat poured down his face and Lorelei wept.
Quinlan, she pathed to him.
Got any ideas?
One. You have the power to do this.
Not that I’ve noticed.
* * * * * * * * *
Quinlan felt something new emanating from Batya, something unexpected. At first, he didn’t recognize what it was, then he realized her words carried the feel of her father, of Davido.
He kept up his pressure on holding Lorelei away from Batya’s shield, now inches away, but at the same time he focused on Batya, on the new vibration flowing into him. What should I do?
I don’t know, Quinlan, except that it’s important right now that you think creatively, outside-the-box.
