B00XXAC6U6 EBOK

by Caris Roane

  “Okay. I see your thinking. I get it now.”

  “Tell me what you think, since the plan depends on your ability to roll back the mist at a specific hour. Do you see any holes? Should I include at least Ben who’s been my right hand all these centuries?”

  She appeared to consider, her brow furrowing for a long moment. Finally, she drew a deep breath. “I say you go with your instincts. Seeing Braden as part of a wraith-pair has changed my view of things as well. Margetta could have recruited a lot of dissatisfied Realm-folk over the years.”

  The one thing Ian knew was he trusted Regan in this situation, despite the past. “And you’re sure about paring back the mist?”

  “I have no doubt it can be done and very quickly.”

  “Is there a chance Margetta will have already realized you’ve removed a portion of the first layer?”

  “A very small one. She would have to be patrolling the section I worked on and I don’t see that happening. According to the servants, Margetta rarely left the fortress itself. She spent most of her time either with her husband, Gustave, or working in her chambers below ground. Although, there was some talk she’d built a communication network similar to your centers, one in each realm.”

  At that, Ian scowled. “Are you saying somewhere in Camberlaune, the woman operates a center of her own?”

  “I think so, but I don’t know how sophisticated her system would be. Remember, this was fortress gossip.”

  Of everything Ian had ever heard about Margetta, including her ability to organize the Invictus into a fighting army, centers of operation in each realm disturbed him. Margetta had tremendous natural powers and all the fae gifts including mist-making spells and enthrallment. But these alone wouldn’t command the Nine Realms as a whole. Communication centers, however, were a different matter and spoke to the woman’s long-view.

  “Sweet Goddess.” He felt his heartbeat drumming in his neck. Now was the time to do battle against the woman’s ruthless ambitions. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life or more confident in the nature of his plans.

  Regan was right to tell him to trust his gut. Everything she’d said supported both his timing and the way he wanted to handle the upcoming engagement.

  His battle energy vibrated down his arms, ready to explode from his hands. He needed to dial it down, but a sense of urgency was on him.

  He drew Regan close to his side once more and contacted Ben telepathically.

  Hey, Ben responded. Good to hear from you. Everything okay?

  Yes, absolutely. Then he concocted his lie. I have Regan with me and we’ve been working the mist but not having a lot of success yet. Regan will keep trying. Are you at the Communication Center?

  I am.

  How’s the Invictus activity so far?

  Very low, but I have squads scattered all over the realm.

  These were Ian’s standard orders. Good. Excellent.

  What’s going on, Ian? You seem different.

  Shit. A minute out of the gate and already Ben could tell something was up. He wasn’t much for dissimulation anyway.

  For another few seconds, he debated bringing Ben in on his plans. He trusted Ben with his life. He always would.

  But given he was in the Communication Center with a number of ears ready to listen in, Ian retreated back to his original intention of keeping his plans hidden from everyone.

  Answering Ben’s question, he said, It’s having a blood rose. I’m revved up because I’m out of pain.

  I can only imagine. Ben was a mastyr and had lived for almost as many centuries as Ian with chronic blood starvation and the accompanying constant discomfort.

  Are the troops out at the usual locations?

  By the book.

  Ian began to breathe a little easier. He wouldn’t have to hunt his men down; he knew where the squads would be. I’ll be roaming the realm tonight with Regan in tow. We’ll probably drop down to Winnick for a midnight meal. Other than that, path me if you need me.

  Will do.

  He felt Ben end the communication.

  Mentally, Ian laid out the same grid of Camberlaune as at the center. Having preset points of arrival and set areas for hunting for Invictus sign would make Ian’s job of reaching each squad a much simpler task.

  Regan suggested she use her cell to map the misted area and create specific geographical points for each squad. She had strong homing abilities, as he did, so he knew she’d get the coordinates right.

  With his plan in place, he headed to the closest region first, which was the long stretch of foothill communities at the base of the Dauphaire Rim. The Rim was the place where the mountains dropped five-hundred feet to the Leberion Plain.

  When he found his first squad of eight, he addressed the team. “I have a recon mission for you at three o’clock. We’ve sighted an Invictus outpost near the location Mistress Regan will provide you. The area is hidden behind a shielding mist, but the Ruby Fae,” here he inclined his head to Regan, “will perform a spell removal function as she did for Swanicott. What we need to know is the size and dispersal of Margetta’s army camped around the Ancient Fae’s fortress. Can I rely on you for this task?”

  He smiled when a shout went up. He loved the heart of the warrior, always game.

  “Regan will send the coordinates to Angus’s cell.” Angus led the squad. “It’s also critical that you don’t tell anyone what I’ve asked of you, including Mastyr Ben or the communication center or even Mastyr Stone. I have reasons for this.”

  Angus frowned. “Will there be others doing recon as well?”

  Again, Ian hated lying, but he knew this mission had to proceed in secret. “A couple of others, but if you meet anyone along the way, I don’t want any discussion between squads. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mastyr.” Angus spoke for the entire team.

  “Just be sure to be at your assigned location at least fifteen minutes before three. The disguising mist should disperse at three sharp. Any questions?”

  “Only one.” Angus’s eyes glowed with a familiar battle fervor. “When the mist disappears and we sight Invictus, do we engage?”

  At that, a smile overspread Ian’s lips. “At will.”

  Another shout went up.

  Angus added. “We should do more of this, be on the offensive.”

  Ian clapped his shoulder. “I agree. But because I’m not sure of the numbers you’ll be facing, if at any time it appears the squad will be overwhelmed, don’t hesitate to retreat. Keep your heads. Think of this as a foray, not an overt battle. Understood?”

  Each head bobbed.

  “Good. And I want one of your team to remain behind to work with the local defense leaders of the communities assigned to your squad. Have these communities on the alert in case the Invictus show up.” Ian met each warrior’s gaze. “Again, be at your coordinates by two-forty-five and I’ll be in touch with Angus before three.”

  Keeping Regan close, he headed to the next sector farther northeast along the foothill communities and received a similar, enthusiastic response. All the Guardsmen were ready to take charge and end the Invictus misery for good. With luck, tonight’s effort would take them a good piece down the road.

  Regan used her cell to establish the next set of coordinates and to keep a record of which team of Guardsmen would go where. Ian knew the names of all his men, so she made lists. She did this while he flew between sectors, at ease in his arms as though they’d flown together for decades instead of two nights.

  Once all the squads took up a position near the fortress, each team would only be fifteen yards from the next. The warriors would no doubt start getting a picture that something big was going on. When the hour advanced to three, he’d begin pathing with the leaders to let them in on what he hoped to achieve. Once the squads were in position, his combined Vampire Guard and Shifter Brigade would surround Margetta’s camp.

  Ian knew his force wasn’t near big enough to defeat such a large army. But by the
time the battle ended with a strong retreat, he felt certain the Camberlaune warriors would have made a dent in the number of wraith-pairs ready to make war.

  It would be one helluva a beginning.

  ~ ~ ~

  Regan knew from various newspaper articles and blogs about Ian over the years that one of his favorite eateries was the Hungry Troll in the central city of Hocklin. At midnight, he flew her there having made a reservation. The restaurant served specialty beers, several of them imported from the States through the Harrisburg Access Point.

  When he touched down on the cobbled street, and she stepped off his booted foot, she became aware he was instantly the center of attention. He received many well-wishes from passing vehicles and a number of friendly back-slaps from pedestrians in the area.

  Regan loved the good-naturedness of Realm-folk generally. And it pleased her that a man who sacrificed his personal contentment for his people, was appreciated so very much.

  When a troll hurried to open the door for them both, she wasn’t prepared for the sudden standing ovation and applause erupting from every single table of the pub-like establishment.

  She looked up at Ian, wondering how he would take the adulation and she could see by his smile it pleased him. He lifted a hand, then graciously gestured to Regan.

  If she’d been surprised before, she was astounded that she, too, received an incredibly warm welcome. When she glanced at Ian with a questioning brow, he pathed, Everyone knows the part you played in the Swanicott victory. You’re as beloved here as you are in your own realm.

  Tears started to her eyes. Sure, she’d helped out by getting rid of the disguising mist so that the Swanicott army could see the enemy, then engage. But she hadn’t actually participated in the battle so she wasn’t sure just how much adulation she deserved. But it meant a lot to her that her service had been appreciated.

  She also lifted a hand and waved, then felt her cheeks grow warm as the applause continued. She wasn’t used to so much attention.

  A troll approached them. He wore a white apron, black vest and white shirt, had two menus in hand and a large belly. The latter was his best advertisement for the quality of the food.

  He held his head high, beaming as he led them to a private booth at the back. To her surprise, she saw Ben standing against the wall near the bathrooms, scrolling through his cell.

  For a moment, though, she got a very strange fae-ish feeling about Ben, as though something wasn’t right. She focused on him, but the odd questioning response dissipated swiftly.

  She gave her head a shake. The nature of the secret attack, as well as all she’d been through, seemed to be having an effect on her and not in a good way.

  Ben’s here, she pathed to Ian. She slid into the booth, the high maroon leather backs creating privacy for them.

  I see him. I wonder what’s going on.

  Ben lifted his gaze from his phone and smiled. As Regan drew her menu into her hand, Ian waved for Ben to join them.

  When Ben drew close, Ian asked. “Everything okay?”

  Ben held up his cell. “Yes, very light activity tonight.” He turned toward Regan. “How are you, Mistress? I think it’s been thirty years since we last spoke.”

  “At least.” Regan had to admit she’d never been completely at ease around the vampire, though she had no idea why.

  During the time she’d dated Ian, Ben and his brother had been two of Ian’s closest friends. Ben’s brother, a mastyr as well, had died at Raven’s Overlook during the massacre.

  Maybe that was the reason she felt slightly ill-at-ease. Ben had suffered as both she and Ian had. And from what Ian had told her, Ben had taken his brother’s death very hard.

  Ben had long, curly blond hair, pulled back in the Guardsman’s woven clasp. He had a regal bearing, a straight nose and straight brows. He was six-five and well-muscled though not as heavily as Ian. He wore a woven maroon shirt and the Guard outfit that had all eyes in the restaurant turned toward the two, handsome men.

  Ben’s smile was warm as he said, “I’ll leave you both to your meals. The shepherd’s pie is outstanding.”

  Ian asked him to join them, but he refused. He’d only wanted to touch base in person and to say hello to Regan since he hadn’t had the chance the night before.

  As he left, he stopped and chatted with a number of patrons along the way. He had an easy style, a perfect complement to Ian. Regan understood why the two men had been friends for such a long time.

  During the meal, Ian grew very quiet as he ate his shepherd’s pie. He’d ordered a local stout, but she wasn’t sure he tasted much of either.

  “What’s bothering you?” she asked.

  He lifted his gaze to her. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Your head’s down and you seem to be pathing with your food.”

  At that he smiled. “I want this to go well tonight.” He kept his voice low.

  “It will. You’ve done the right thing by keeping it on the down-low.”

  His mouth worked and after setting his fork on his plate, he twisted his thumb ring a few times. “I think I need to bring Stone in on this.”

  She nodded and using her fork, cut into a chicken filet covered with capers and lemon-butter sauce. “You want to add to the numbers.” By this point she was whispering, afraid to reveal the secret plan to anyone who might be listening in on their conversation.

  He switched to telepathy. That’s it exactly. My troops will be too spread out around the perimeter. And once the battling starts, it’s hard for a warrior to retreat even when he’s outnumbered. It goes against every instinct.

  She popped the bite into her mouth, following up with a sip of sweet German white wine. What do your instincts tell you?

  At that, he chuckled.

  “What? Why are you laughing?”

  “I forgot how much your faeness slants your advice.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No, it wasn’t a criticism, I promise you. I’m surrounded by war-making vampires and shifters. We think in terms of weaponry, time and distance, numbers. Your advice leans toward intuition.”

  “We divine our answers as much by the subtle vibrations all around us. Like when I first saw Ben, what I noticed as he leaned against the wall checking his texts or email, was the glitter in his eye as though he was getting ready to do battle. I know he wasn’t, but something about his expression didn’t quite jive with being in a restaurant just to say hi to me.”

  Ian took a drink of the stout. “In this case, you’re thinking like a fae. You forget, Ben makes war first, above everything else, just as I do. He could have easily been directing one of the squads to move to support another because of an Invictus attack.”

  “That makes total sense.” She then switched the subject and asked about the quality of the stout and if he liked his meal.

  He relaxed after that. She’d made the right decision not to press him about Ben.

  Once she’d finished her dinner and Ian had as well, he led her outside. Again, he received the thanks of those passing by. When most of the well-wishing had subsided, he pulled out his cell and spoke in a quiet voice to Stone.

  Regan also had two young fae women take her aside and ask about her retreat in Swanicott. Regan suggested they check out her website, which had all the information they would need to apply for entrance into one of a variety of programs her team offered.

  Ian, a few feet away, replaced his cell in his pocket. He met her gaze and nodded, smiling. He looked pleased with Stone’s response.

  She was about to rejoin Ian, when a female shifter ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Ian,” she cried. “I haven’t seen you in ages, not since you took me to your cave.”

  Ah, the infamous cave where he was supposed to have held two woman captive.

  Ian smiled as he took hold of her arms and untangled the powerful looking woman from around his neck. Ah, a shifter female. “Janice. Don’t you look pretty.”

  The shi
fter, at least six-two in height, had her blond hair teased to a massive height, sported long fake eyelashes and dark red lipstick. She wore a fringed black leather vest, cut low enough to reveal about five inches of cleavage, a really short, red skirt and black, thigh boots.

  She didn’t back up either, but planted her hand on Ian’s arm and began to massage, stroking his bicep up and down. The movement was so suggestive, even the young fae women near Regan clucked their tongues in disapproval.

  But Regan’s reaction had her blood tattoos fired up and her heart beating faster and faster.

  “So how’s it hangin’?” Janice leaned in close. When she reached low, Regan could tell by the movement of the woman’s arm, she’d just slid her hand between Ian’s legs.

  Regan had never felt such a quick, possessive response in her life. Nor had she ever moved as fast as she did now, pushing herself between Ian and his adoring fan.

  “What the hell?” The shifter wasn’t about to give up her ground, and immediately grabbed Regan by the shoulders ready to do battle.

  But the blood tattoos had come to life and flowed with power.

  In a swift move, Regan slid her hand up and placed it on Janice’s forehead. She let an infinitesimal amount of her battle energy release. The shifter suddenly looked dazed as she stepped back, then slumped to her knees. She didn’t pass out, but almost.

  Ian shifted to stand beside Regan, his brows raised. “Did you just do what I think you did?”

  “Yes. The same thing I did to the Invictus wraith in your home, except that I only used about a tenth of the power.”

  Janice recovered quickly, however, and gained her feet. She scowled at Regan, then peered at her. “You have a glowing red aura right now. Oh, sweet Goddess, you’re the Ruby Fae.”

  Janice, bold as most shifters were, took Regan’s right hand. “You sent power into my mind.”

  “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  Janice shook her head, causing her long silver earrings to jangle. “No, not at all. It felt like a soft rain inside my head.” She glanced at Ian then back to Regan. “And I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t know. You’re with the mastyr, aren’t you?”