He removed himself from her quick embrace with another rapid shuffling of feet, his eyes sparkling, his color high.
“Oh, mistress, you are too kind.” Now he was embarrassed. He hurried from the room.
Note to self: no grabbing and hugging of the castle staff.
Once dressed, Abigail had to steel herself as she left Gerrod’s private suite and passed from room to room. She was pretty sure that the entire staff had somehow made it their business to catch sight of her as she made her way to the north entrance, where the driver waited to take her to Hollow Tree. She had never seen so many about sweeping the floor, polishing candelabra, dusting already pristine tables.
She received more old-fashioned curtsies and grins than she had expected, which brought new heat to her cheeks.
Once in the car, she finally relaxed and took a deep breath until the driver said, “Good morning, mistress. It was lovely to hear the mastyr whistling. Very lovely indeed. Indeed.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ethan said. “You got laid.”
Gerrod frowned. He had no intention of discussing Abigail with Ethan. The vampire had a wagging tongue nearly as long as Gus’s.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Just glad you came.” He moved into the room in that lethal manner of his. Ethan was an inch taller than Gerrod, with an equivalent larger mass of muscle. He was not a vampire to meet in a blind alley, at least not without a few blade-like or preternatural powers fully in hand.
“I value Augustus tremendously, but he should learn some restraint.”
Ethan drew his brow into a knot. “What the hell does Gus have to do with anything? Oh, I see what it is. You think your gossipy troll spilled the beans. Not so, my friend. I can see by your stature you got well and truly fucked last night. Anyone I know, or need to know?” He waggled his brows.
With these words, a very odd tightening began deep in Gerrod’s gut. His hands became fists, his biceps flexing before he understood what was happening. “You are not to trouble Mistress Abigail.”
Ethan immediately threw up both hands in the surrender position. “Whoa. Didn’t mean to give offense. I take it she’s someone special.”
“No.” Too quick at that answer. But to say, ‘yes, she is special’, what would that mean?
He looked away from Ethan, glancing at the map of the Nine Realms laid out on his table and held at each corner by the most absurd cast iron scorpion weights. Abigail had given them to him for his birthday last month, a peculiar human tradition of giving gifts on the anniversaries of the day of one’s birth.
“What’s going on, Gerrod? I wouldn’t have teased you, been so indiscreet, if I’d thought it serious. Is it? Or is it something else?” Ethan moved to stand on the other side of the massive table facing him.
“The woman is human,” he said, though it only covered maybe a tenth of his present concerns.
“Holy shit, you hooked up with a…human?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Gerrod met his gaze and nodded. Ethan’s hair was in disarray. He had a mass of honey-brown curls that always escaped the woven clasps that male vampires used to hold back their long hair. Since the females of his staff tended to hang near multiple doorways when Ethan was around, he was certain that the easy look had a certain appeal.
Besides, the man was a handsome devil, big smile, big teeth, and a certain way of fixing his stare that could unnerve other males and weaken the knees of the females.
But all Gerrod saw was the concern of friendship, and for that he valued Ethan more than any of the other mastyr vampires. For all his relative youth, Ethan could be trusted, counted on.
“I don’t want to speak of Abigail at this time. I’m encouraging her to go back to Flagstaff where she lives and not to return.”
“Is she with one of the universities that she was allowed to be here in the first place?”
“No. She’s opening a bakery in Hollow Tree with an elven partner.”
“A bakery? Well that makes sense, I mean, the trolls and fae think sugar was provided by the Goddess herself.”
“Yes.” He smiled a little.
He grinned. “So, Gerrod of Merhaine in love with a baker.” He smiled then laughed, especially since Gerrod had balled up his hands once more.
Ethan sat down in the tall-backed chair opposite and chuckled. “I won’t tease you again. Now, tell me once more about the Invictus attack and just what you have in mind.”
Gerrod replayed the incident over in his mind, ignoring the parts that involved Abigail so thoroughly, although he did mention that she helped save the troll boy.
“How?”
“She pathed the need for me to extend my power and cover them.”
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head back and forth. When his eyes popped open, he said, “Uh, say what?”
“Yes,” Gerrod mused. “Abigail, though human, is telepathic. And she can attach my personal frequency.”
One brow rose, but no smile this time. “Gerrod, do I need to point out the obvious?”
Gerrod sighed, but he could feel his scowl deepening “The answer is that I don’t know what she is, or why a human would have these capabilities. Maybe she’s the missing link.”
“The creature that connects our DNA to humans.”
“Yes. I’ve wondered.”
“All right. Setting that aside, and that you have a conundrum to solve in this human female, I want to know more about what you saw with these Invictus, beyond the numbers and organization.”
“The organization is what concerns me. Their movements were more coordinated, attacking from different directions at once.”
“But no match for you.”
“It was more difficult. I got nicked a few times and one blade grazed my arm, leaving blood on my coat and leathers. That’s never happened before.”
“Shit. So, in some sense, this could have been a test run.”
“A test against me? Perhaps it was. Perhaps against all mastyrs.”
“I’ve never known the Invictus to be so intent on a single goal. What do you think is behind it?”
“An organizing force or person. Be wary, my friend. If someone has chosen to mobilize the Invictus, and also found a way to get them to work together, then Bergisson and all the realms could be at risk as well.” Ethan was the Mastyr Vampire of Bergisson Realm that opened onto a northern Louisiana city, in the same way that Merhaine had an access point at Flagstaff in Arizona.
Ethan’s mouth grew tight. “We’ve had increased activity in the west, which as you know is the location of the wastelands of our realm.”
Gerrod leaned forward. “Have you noticed a disappearance of realm-folk, of all species, but poorer, some who serve as prostitutes?”
“Not sure. The Guards in the south have been scratching their heads. I’ll ask for better stats.”
“There, you see. Some stealth is involved. This is not typical Invictus behavior.”
“You must be right.”
A knock sounded and Gus stepped into the room, his shoulders shifted forward. “Sorry to disturb, mastyrs, but there is a disturbance at Just Two Sweet?”
Gerrod leaned back and shifted in Gus’s direction. “In Flagstaff?”
“No, that would be Just Too Sweet!, T-double-oh. This is Two Sweet, as in the number two.”
Gerrod smiled. It was a little play on words, but a good one he thought.
“There it is,” Ethan said. “You’re smiling. I’ve known you a long time and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.”
Words, of course, that brought his brow dropping low once more so that he scowled all over again. “So tell us, Augustus, what is happening at Just Two Sweet.”
“Apparently, Mistress Abigail has been yelling at the Merhaine press about the rights of all species to be free, in any realm, to conduct business however they believe they should desire to, or something like that.”
“Are you telling me she didn’t return to Flagstaff?” Hope, his enemy now, blossomed in his chest. She was still in Merhaine.
“Yes, mastyr.”
“Oh, dear Goddess.”
Ethan grinned. “If she gets the press worked up, she’ll start a fucking riot. Does she know women barely have the vote here?”
“I haven’t said anything. I suggest if you choose to come with me, you’ll keep your tongue as well.”
But Ethan merely laughed, not the most hopeful sound.
The next few minutes were spent getting the car and one taunting vampire organized enough to take to the road.
Fifteen minutes later, and within twenty yards of the bakery, Gerrod had his driver stop the car. He saw Abigail across the street from the bakery, confronting a crowd of reporters. Something inside him twisted into a knot and held fast. She looked so different, yet the same, and absurdly wonderful.
She wore a tank top in purple, a light green sweater that barely reached her waist, and jeans. On her feet were flip-flops, much too large. Her hair was in a ponytail and the absence of makeup made her look much younger than last night.
Still this more youthful look made him want to jump from the car and haul her to safety even though he knew she wasn’t in any real danger. The press could be obnoxious but never abusive.
His heart started pounding as though it knew what it wanted and his personal frequency began a dreadful kind of wail that he hadn’t felt before or was he hearing it?
This is ridiculous.
As he looked her up and down, however, he realized she must have borrowed clothes from his staff. Somehow that made her more real in his life and his heart set up a new kind of racket.
How calm she appeared, gesturing to the crowd of reporters with her hands. Her back was straight although her neck arched forward.
Ethan rolled down the window. “I can’t hear what she’s saying but the tone of her voice sounds very passionate.”
Gerrod had grown single-minded and had only one real thought, that she had been very passionate last night.
