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In the meantime, he was an outcast.
He let the vans take off. He’d done his duty and reported the aberration. The physician at the morgue could give a better report to Mastyr Stone anyway. He’d be able to provide a scientific explanation for wraiths-that-weren’t-wraiths.
Glancing around the village square, he saw that the leading citizens had control of the situation, the fire was out and the cleaners were detailing the cobbles. He had nothing more to do. He said good-bye to a few villagers who thanked him again for his service.
He took off into the air and headed to his home in the nearby village of Boylbury to clean up. His ancestors had lived there a long time, though several had died because of the Invictus. His father had operated the old smithy, which he’d later converted into a proper home with the arrival of the automobile. He’d grown vegetables and planted fruit trees. He’d kept a few horses in the pasture beyond. There was even an old oak tree in the back pasture Rez used to climb as a boy.
He touched down on the back lawn. Drystone walls kept his property separated from his neighbors on the east. A wide lane ran along his land to the west which encompassed Devyn’s farm.
He’d long since sold the farm where his family had been killed. All he’d kept were things he thought his daughter, Isobel, might like once he found her and brought her home.
He sighed, but forced his despair away. He would find her. He would bring her home. Nothing else mattered.
He didn’t go inside right away. Fir
st, he checked his cell to make sure it was powered up and turned on. He was always ready to take calls if he was needed. Though, he doubted he’d receive another summons tonight. Then again, what had happened in Millerell was a mystery. Was Tannisford under attack again?
Scanning the skies, he turned in a slow half-circle. It was a long-held habit of his, watching for the enemy. Low green hills lumbered along the northern horizon. Oaks dotted the hills as far as the eye could see.
To the west was more of the Sterling River Valley that transected Tannisford.
He stepped into the side yard and checked the skies once more. A few miles to the south, but down a nice slope of land, was the river itself. Tall beech trees formed a riverside woodland for miles.
Boylbury was situated in pretty country.
Though he knew he was healed up from the poison, he felt jittery. Maybe it was from almost dying, or maybe it was being with Holly again. Hell, it might even have been the shock of discovering neither of the Invictus pairs had a true wraith in the mix. Without a wraith, where had the fae and the vampire gotten so much power?
All of it weighed on his mind.
Satisfied the skies were clear, he went into the house and headed straight for his shower. He stood beneath the steaming hot water and let the spray pummel his shoulder muscles especially the poison’s entry point.
Pleasure was what he felt. Sometimes, nothing beat a hot shower for taking some of the sting out of the night, literally. He was sure the Goddess, herself, had created hot water to ease the suffering of the world.
He turned around and pressed his hands to the tile wall then leaned forward to let the water hit the back of his neck. His thoughts turned toward Holly and as natural as anything, he slid his fist straight for his cock. Images of her watching him suck on the inside of Wanda’s arm then smelling her mating scent had him hard as flint.
He wanted to fire one off. It would be so easy. Yet, he held back.
What he wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be inside Holly and to release everything he had into her. Repeatedly. To lay so much of himself inside her sex, she’d be branded forever.
Rez was just shy of a hundred, but he’d never experienced this kind of powerful draw toward a woman as he did for Holly McCrae.
He let his hand drop away and without giving it a thought, he flipped the lever to cold. He shouted a couple of times as the icy water flayed his heated skin.
It had a good effect. His cock settled down.
Later, dressed in a fresh set of leathers and a black tank, he headed back to Millerell only this time to the Wild Boar a quarter mile east of the village square.
As soon as he opened the door, Wanda called out, “We’ve got us a hero, boys. Let’s hear it for Mastyr Rez and another four bad guys in the ground.”
Shifters, trolls and vampires, even a few hardened fae males, turned in his direction. Applause, shouts and shrill whistles followed. There wasn’t a realm-person present who wouldn’t celebrate the demise of the murderous Invictus.
He lifted an arm but all he cared about right now was a tall mug. He headed straight for the bar and by the time he got there, Wanda held up a beer for him, foaming and ready.
He took it by the handle and began to drink. Those nearest, slapped the wood bar with both hands. “Chug, chug, chug.”
He might not have taken it all the way down to the bottom, but it was close. One more long swig, and it was empty.
He tapped his glass on the counter. “Stick, close, Wanda.”
