As one-quarter wraith, she knew the stigma that all half-breeds bore in Ashleaf, and that each realm-person with even a hint of wraith-blood would one day be targeted for extermination by The Society.
She pulled out of the vision and opened her eyes, wiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt.
She rose from the small space and moved to the window that she’d thrown open for the night. Ashleaf Realm had dozens of night bird species that chattered and called out until dawn. From the thirty foot height of the meditation room, she could see down into the shallow stream at the foot of her oak-based complex. Frogs croaked and some of the larger birds waited to catch a meal near the stream.
She stood there for a long time, just staring down into the stream, listening to the frogs and the chatter of the birds.
Sadness clung to her for a long time as well as thoughts of Mastyr Malik and what it must have been like for him to enter the elves’ home. She wished she could ease him and console him at such a terrible time.
Instead, her duties lay elsewhere. She knew what needed to be done, and she made the difficult decision to go immediately to Birchingwood and to finally speak to the man she’d been craving for the past two years.
CHAPTER TWO
Malik walked slowly out of the home of the cobbler elf and his family. He tried to wipe the blood off his hands, but couldn’t. He had blood on his leathers, his boots, the bottom edge of his Guardsman coat.
He’d knelt in the spilled blood because there was nothing else he could do. He couldn’t bring the family back to life, shore up their horrific wounds, or make the blood disappear. All he could do was kneel, take a moment, honor the dead.
The killer had used an axe.
He leaned against the front porch post, shading his face with his hand. The attack had been incredibly brutal, worse than anything he’d witnessed before, which meant he was sure the family had been tortured.
He’d seen a lot of bloodshed in his life, but the little, twin boys had only been toddlers, maybe two-years-old, if that. Nausea now accompanied his usual stomach cramps, and his mind still wasn’t functioning right.
A village woman, a troll and a good neighbor to the family, approached him. She carried a basin of water in her arms, and a rag dangling from her hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “We know one day you will make this right, Mastyr, and that you will end The Society forever.”
He stared at the tightly compressed ridges of her forehead. He didn’t blink as she began wiping the blood from his boots and his Guardsman coat.
As she performed this grief-laden service, he glanced up and down High Street of Birchingwood. He had twenty of his Vampire Guard standing watch at intervals. Many realm-folk wept openly and more than one woman wailed her distress and her grief.
He glanced up at the treehouse level, two and three stories above the ground. Many occupants of the homes up there stood along the rope walkways that led from tree to tree.
Some of the realm-folk wept, some just stared at him in mute horror. Others looked distastefully satisfied by the killing. His realm was completely divided and all because of Mastyr Axton and The Society.
Still struggling to bring his mind to order and absorb what had happened, he didn’t know how much more he could take.
An agent from the Realm Investigative Unit was already inside working the crime scene with his forensics team. But they wouldn’t find much. The killers associated with The Society were well-trained and employed illegal charms bought on the black market to shield their deeds. None of the neighbors saw or heard a thing, even though the family must have screamed in agony through their ordeal.
Once the RIU was done, members from the Fae Guild would come to test for charms and spells. They always found the remnant of a spell, usually one that would allow the killers to get away, and perhaps more importantly, one that was designed to degrade over time, so that the bodies would be found.
But what good did that do? The Guild could identify a charm, but they couldn’t prevent another one from being created. And the black market was alive and well in his realm.
The woman who’d been cleansing his uniform completed her task. She rose and patted Malik’s shoulder. “The Goddess’s blessings on you, Mastyr.” She then moved slowly down the steps, weeping anew.
One of his lieutenants, Evan, flew in, his expression somber. “Came as fast as I could from the north. We found three Invictus pairs. Took care of them.”
“Three?” Malik’s realm had the fewest Invictus incursions of any of the Nine Realms. That there had been three sounded an alarm inside his head.
“Yes.” Evan nodded. “I thought it strange as well.”
The last thing Malik needed was a sudden arrival of wraith-pairs into his realm. He had enough problems with The Society hunting down and murdering innocent citizens.
Evan dipped his chin in the direction of the front door. “How bad is it?”
For a few seconds, Malik numbed out again as the images once more flowed through his mind. He couldn’t speak.
“Malik?”
He shifted his gaze to Evan. “It’s never been worse. Two little boys. A family of four elves. Don’t go in there. They were tortured. Forensics is doing its thing anyway.”
Evan had young children. As though struck at the back of his knees, Evan dropped suddenly to sit on the porch, his long Guardsman legs angling down three steps. “Shit.” He covered his face with his hand.
The door slammed open and the RIU agent stalked out of the house, his face ashen. He didn’t respond when Malik called to him. The tall fae, renowned for his ability to track serial predators, walked up High Street, refusing to answer questions thrust at him by the village inhabitants. He disappeared around the bend, not looking back.
Malik understood. But the sight of one of his toughest agents coming apart just as Malik had, shifted something inside him. Something had to give. He’d been putting off a critical decision for a long time now, hating what needed to be done. But this execution had ended the debate.
A troll, driving a horse-drawn cart, drew close to the porch. “That cursed family had wraith-blood and got what they deserved.” He spat and plied his whip again.
Some cheered the troll’s harsh words, while others booed and shouted protests against half-breed hate-speech.
And this was what caused Malik the most despair — that his realm was divided. A large number of his people hated wraiths with a passion because of the Invictus, while others believed that innocent wraiths, unaffected by Margetta the Ancient Fae, should be tolerated and accepted like any other realm-person. It was Margetta who turned wraiths into a killing force.
But as the troll and his cart disappeared down a side lane that led into the forest, Malik knew the time had come to make a significant change, and one he’d hoped to avoid. He would get the Sidhe Council to agree to a mandate, commanding the removal of every last half-breed to Swanicott Realm for all of Ashleaf. Swanicott had one of the few protected wraith colonies in the entire Nine Realms and the mastyr there had offered Malik the opportunity countless times to take in his endangered half-breeds.
The death of the twin elven boys had finally finished off his last resistance to relocation as a solution to the divide in his realm.
He basically had a terrorist organization working inside his realm, and he didn’t have the ability to uncover the principal organizers and bring them to justice. He’d never believed in relocation as a solution, nor did his vast number of supporters. But unless he saved the several thousand realm-folk who carried wraith-blood in their veins, he would face decades of exactly this kind of murder.
And there was one other issue that needed to be addressed.
Willow.
He thought about what he’d done just before dawn and how he’d let himself get distracted with his longings for Willow. Maybe if he hadn’t let his guard down and finished up his nightly patrols with a visit to her favorite pool, maybe something would have alerted him to the ter
rible events here in Birchingwood.
Maybe he’d been distracted, maybe not. But if there was the smallest chance his pursuit of Willow had interfered with his proper managing of Ashleaf, then he needed to find some way to end his obsession.
And just as these thoughts passed through his mind, suddenly, he felt Willow’s presence. In response, his heart started pounding hard in his chest.
Scanning the crowds clumped all along High Street, he finally caught sight of her at the edge of the forest. She had a soft glow around her that meant she’d covered herself in a fae charm, just as she did when she went shopping in the various villages.
And as had happened the first time he saw her at market day in Cherry Hollow, and every time he’d seen her since, he felt stunned by the sight of her. She wore a pair of jeans and a tank top against the warm September day, and her red wavy hair hung free about her shoulders.
She was so beautiful that something inside his brain started sending flashes of lightning that traveled to every part of his body. Some realm part of him knew her, recognized her as more than just a woman he wanted to take to bed. Was Miriam right? Did he need to take a serious look at what was really happening between himself and Willow?
He forced himself to take a breath, then another.
He started to contact her telepathically, when he felt her rapping against his mind. Again, the woman was powerful.
He allowed the communication. Hello, Willow.
Malik, we need to fix this. I need you to stop coming after me. I have important duties that your presence interferes with, and I can’t allow this to go on.
He was surprised, which reminded him that he really knew very little about this woman. But what duties was she referring to? He knew she was focused on something, but on what? And why did she live such a secretive life?
Still holding her gaze, he responded, I feel the same way.
He dropped down to the top step and put a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “I have something I have to take care of right now. Let me know how the investigation goes. I’m hoping like hell we’ll learn something, but I’m not holding my breath.”
Evan looked up at him, then gained his feet. “I’ll look after things here.” He pressed the heels of his palms to wet eyes.
That’s what he loved about the Guardsmen, whether they were his Vampire Guard or Troll Brigade. They were good, honest men, with great hearts, and he experienced a camaraderie with them that equaled nothing else in his life.
“Call me if you need me.”
He shifted to levitated flight and sped slowly along the cobbled street in Willow’s direction. He wasn’t surprised that before he reached her, she turned and moved up the path, though not running this time so that he’d be able to follow her.
He thought he understood. If he paused at the edge of the village to talk to her, it would look as though he was speaking to himself. Few in Ashleaf Realm would have the power to see through Willow’s fae-charm glow.
~ ~ ~
Willow felt Malik behind her, moving at a steady clip. She wanted to be well away from the village before she engaged in conversation with him. It also gave her time to deal with the oppressive weight that the deaths of the elven family had created in her heart.
She pathed, I’ll be heading back to my gate. We can speak there without being observed.
Thought as much, and yes, it’s a good idea.
She didn’t try to converse more. What she needed to say, needed to show him, wouldn’t be served well through a mere exchange of words. And Malik still needed some time to recover from what he’d witnessed. She did as well, because the vision kept rolling through her mind of seeing him inside the elven home.
Covering the thirty miles fairly slowly gave her much needed distance from Birchingwood, both emotionally and physically. By the time she held open the wrought iron gate that led onto her land, she could sense that like her, Malik’s grief had lessened.
“I can feel the protective charm,” Malik said as she closed the tall gate behind him.
“I was taught by the best and you know her well. Alexandra the Bad.”
“I do.”
Most realm-folk wouldn’t be able to cross this boundary, either on foot by opening the gate or by flying above it. She had powerful charms in place that should have kept even Axton off her lands, which was another sign that a fae of exceptional ability was helping him.
She glanced at Malik. “And you are one of the few who can overcome the charm.”
At that, he smiled, and her breath caught all over again. For a moment Willow felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. She wanted to say something, but her mind got all tangled up in being so close to Malik at long last.
Until this moment, she’d looked at him either at a distance or through the veil of the vines. Now here he was, flesh and blood, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, but offering no other sign that flying for thirty miles had cost him much energy.
But it was his deep brown eyes cut with so much sadness that held her captive. She could feel all that he’d experienced in the elven cobbler’s house. “Malik, I’m so sorry.”
He looked confused for a moment. “For running from me?”
She shook her head. “For what happened in Birchingwood.”
He nodded slowly. “It will take some time before I’ll be able to let those images go. We’ve had too many deaths.” She felt his thoughts fall inward and for that reason she remained silent.
Her heart thrummed heavily in response, his grief making her wish there was something she could do to help. But she was feeling too much for Malik on every possible level — her desire for him, her admiration, her compassion, her understanding of what he suffered as ruler of Ashleaf. “There were children in that house, weren’t there?”
“Yes, twin boys.” He turned away to settle his gaze on the dense forest surrounding the path. “But I intend for this murder to be the last in my realm.”
She could feel that he’d come to a decision, but even through the level of his determination, once more a familiar sadness came through.
“And I hope very much that it is.” She glanced up the path, in the direction of the colony. “And now there’s something I need to show you.”
She moved on, walking swiftly along a path as familiar as the rocks in the stream below her treehouse. He followed behind her, since the route was narrow. She listened to the birds, to the hollow sounds as she crossed a wooden bridge over yet another stream, and to the sounds of Malik’s heavier footfalls behind her.
When the path split, she paused, turning to him. “Do you know where we are?”
He gestured with a toss of his arm to the path on the right that led northeast. “That will take you to your treehouse complex, but I have to admit I don’t know where this western path goes, and I thought I knew every footpath in Ashleaf.”
Throughout her initial trip to Birchingwood, she’d debated just how much to tell him about the wraith colony. In the end, she’d decided to keep her revelations, at least for now, down to a minimum.
Heading west, she spoke to him over her shoulder. “You’ll be seeing more of the same vines soon, like the ones at my gate, my waterfall, and around the base of the oaks at my treehouse complex.”
“It’s an unusual vine, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
“I’m curious, though, why it hasn’t overtaken the surrounding forest like most vines would?”
“I keep it in check,” was all she was willing to say.
The distance to the colony from the fork in the path wasn’t far, maybe half-a-mile to the granite monolith and the vines that shrouded the entrance. Because she needed him to see why he had never been able to find her when he’d given chase, she put on a sudden burst of speed intending to vanish into the vines, then show herself to him.
She heard him shout his protest as she flew over a waterfall and sped the remaining quarter mile to the monolith. “You’ll see soon enough,” she called back.
>
Once there, she melted into the vines that guarded the entrance to the wraith-colony. She held two of her favorite thick stems and watched his arrival as he topped the last rise of land, his Guardsman coat flapping behind him. He was one pissed off vampire, which was something that made her smile.
“Willow? What the fuck?”
Malik was all Guardsman and though she rarely cursed herself, she knew that fighting men needed many avenues to let off steam, profanity being one of them.
“Okay, now I’m pissed. Why did you bring me all this way if just to make me chase you again? What kind of game are you playing?”
She saw him through the haze of her protective vine charm and suddenly felt very sad. After this night, she would probably never see him again, and for that reason she took a moment to just look at him, at his brown eyes and strong cheekbones, and at his long, thick, dark brown hair, which had a slight wave and was caught in the traditional Guardsman clasp. How many times had she imagined sinking her hands into his hair?
She was a hopeless case where Malik was concerned. He’d played a prominent role in her fantasies for so long and now she was going to expose one of her secrets to him, something only he would know. And after which, she would send him away forever.
“Willow, please don’t do this.” He turned in a full circle, looking for her.
She touched his mind telepathically. I didn’t bring you here to torment you, Mastyr, but rather to show you something. Please, turn toward the vines.
He shifted in her direction, his brow furrowed. He looked deeply distressed, which helped her to know just how frustrating all the chases had been for him.
Slowly, she willed the vines to part for her, then removed the protective spell. His eyes widened as she stepped from the vines.
He stared at her for a long time, before saying, “You have more power than even Alexandra, don’t you? So why aren’t you head of the Fae Guild?”
It seemed so much like Malik that he would address these issues first and not that she’d been hiding herself in the vines at the end of every chase.
She drew in a deep breath, suddenly nervous that she was about to reveal other things about herself, things she’d taken a vow never to reveal. Yet she trusted Malik, and he needed to know why he had to leave her alone from this moment forward. “There’s a simple reason; I have the ability to create a protective shield.”