Treoir Dragon Chronicles of the Belador World: Book 2 Page 17

  “I’m finished,” Luigsech said, walking out of the hallway with her hair damp and wearing an aqua-blue pullover with a clean pair of jeans. Boot tips stuck out from beneath the pants.

  The lass cleaned up nicely. More than nice.

  He had just spooned stew into the bowls and stood at the sink, rinsing the pot. He cast a look over his shoulders.

  She took in the cleaned-up living area with debris moved into stacks, the table set up for two people, and the stew cooking. Everything in her face said she did not want to utter those two words she had earlier.

  But once again, her manners forced her to grudgingly murmur, “Thank you.”

  “Ya are welcome.” Daegan pulled a chair out for her.

  She took the other one.

  He chuckled and sat, eating quickly. He didn’t mind the brief stop since even soldiers needed to refresh and eat. She might have had nothing since her meal last night, which he had interrupted.

  They ate in silence for just a few minutes, finishing at the same moment.

  “Why were you at the grocery store when I spoke with Cathbad?” She lifted a paper napkin from a decorative stand on the table and dabbed her lips.

  He’d originally traveled to the village to find out who Luigsech was and if she could be one of the squire family possessing Treoir history.

  He discarded that for a better answer.

  “I have told ya I am huntin’ the grimoire volumes. I heard of your reputation. That led me to your centre.”

  She stood, lifting both bowls, but paused before walking to the sink. “If that was the truth, you would have come inside and asked for me, but you stayed outside hidin’ and watchin’ me.” She stood there a moment then lifted a shoulder. “You have not threatened me, but your mere presence puts everyone I love in danger. I will only do so much with all that at stake. Do not be askin’ for more than I am willin’ to share when you are not willin’ to tell me who you are and the real reason you are here.”

  He weighed the value of sharing his identity, but he could not when it changed nothing about hunting the grimoire.

  Her words finally hit him.

  One word in particular.

  How could his presence put everyone in danger?

  Who else did she mean besides Fenella?

  Chapter 24

  Cathbad held his posture erect as he stood in the queen’s private chamber, observing her.

  He had never dealt with this Queen Maeve. He’d known many versions. The seductress who could lure any man into her bed and keep him there for days without chains.

  He’d known the queen that also enjoyed chaining virile men to each side of her throne for months.

  He’d admired the woman who managed to capture the most dangerous red dragon of all time. Then he’d been disgusted as she’d allowed Daegan to live and eventually escape.

  Now he faced a woman whose mind he had to tread carefully around or a battle of wills would erupt with enough power to ravage TÅμr Medb.

  And possibly destroy one of them.

  He’d proven his point last time when she’d trapped him in a clear enclosure of majik, but he was no fool to believe he knew for sure he could take down Queen Maeve in her own realm.

  He’d lived over two millenniums using a simple rule.

  Never, ever, go up against an opponent you are not positive you can defeat.

  “You dare to come here asking to use my scrying wall, druid?” She’d recovered from her earlier loss of control. Her hair continued to lift and moved on its own, rearranging from multi-colored waves to a golden twist of curls that crowned her head. Her face aged not at all as was the privilege of immortals and those succulent lips deserved their own place in history.

  Ah, yes, this queen possessed a beauty difficult to define.

  Just as impossible as defining her level of malevolence.

  “I merely wish ta see if the wall works, love. Show me somethin’ on yar scryin’ wall and I will go verify if ’tis accurate.”

  “Why now?” She began moving slowly from side to side as if listening to music heard only in her head.

  “I left here thinkin’ about how we parted ways. We are headed toward a split. I do not want that after all we have done ta reach this point.” He stepped around her to stand in her line of vision.

  When she finally paused and looked down, he continued. “I thought long and hard on how we could rebuild trust with each other. It dawned on me that I might aid ya in developin’ the scryin’ wall. I could fuel it with my majik and make the wall impossible for anyone to ever break again.”

  “Such a selfless thought.”

  He ignored the sarcasm dripping from her lips. “I have never claimed to be a saint, nor would I want ta be. I have always told ya the truth regardless if ya would like what I said or not.” He opened his arms out, palms up. “I come to ya with a plan for reunitin’ stronger than ever.” He lowered his hands and waited on a verdict.

  Her body descended until her feet touched the floor. She studied him, taking her time as if to memorize his face. A smile began to lift her lips.

  He would not race to a conclusion that she’d accepted his words, so he remained stoic.

  Sighing gently, her eyes softened and her lips continued to build a smile that would bring most men to their knees. She moved close to him.

  He kept his arms loose at his sides.

  Lifting a hand, she brushed it over his hair and hooked her other hand lightly around the back of his neck.

  Hairs stood on his skin, but he managed to appear unmoved. Just barely. Allowing someone of her power to put her hands close enough to snap his neck would normally be unwise.

  But coming here at all was as unwise as it was necessary.

  He had to show her he trusted her.

  She cupped her fingers more snug around his neck in an intimate way and moved her body as close as she could to his. Her lush breasts brushed his chest.

  Damn if he wasn’t hard.

  He hadn’t planned on sex as she’d disgusted him so many times recently, but he could make use of her interest. His lips twitched with a smile.

  She noticed. Pulling him to her, she kissed his lips, slowly at first until he lifted his arms to embrace her. She gave a tiny moan, just enough to make his dick jump. If she wanted sex, he had always been a willing bed partner and the one male capable of satisfying her voracious needs.

  Her fingers at his neck drove up into his hair.

  She kissed him with the passion he hadn’t received from her in a long time. His hand slid between them, grasping her breast. She made a sound of pleasure and reached for the front of his pants.

  Damn her. He loved the feel of her wicked fingers on him.

  She whispered, “Don’t ever ask to use my scrying wall again unless you wish to lose this part first.”

  Clenching her fingers hard, she dug her nails into his crotch and twisted.

  He shoved her away, roaring in pain and fury. “Ya bitch. What the fuck is wrong with ya?”

  She’d fallen to the floor, laughing. “Nothing. I am better than ever. If I need you, I’ll call you. Get out, Cathbad.”

  Cathbad teleported away from TÅμr Medb realm instantly.

  He reappeared outside the cave in the Himalayas with a snowstorm blowing through. Dropping to his knees, it took him a moment to heal the pain throbbing in his loins.

  He sure as hell had no desire to jerk off.

  That miserable bitch.

  After that little trick, he might not allow someone else to kill her. He shook off the worst of his fury, tucking this moment in the back of his mind. Plenty of time for vengeance.

  For now he would not deviate from the plan.

  He clothed himself in furs and wool as he gathered himself for another battle. If Brynhild attacked him today, he would lock her in that damn pond forever.

  If she couldn’t do her part, she became a liability.

  In fact, now that he had Tristan, Cathbad had been rethinking parts
of his plan. A polymorph Alterant could be more valuable than a crazy supernatural female.

  He’d had all he could take of those.

  He put his hand on the cold boulder, allowing the fury to slide away as he rose to his feet. He never made decisions when angry. He wouldn’t today either.

  Brynhild would do her part. She had a value unlike any others. He could put up with her far easier than Queen Maeve.

  Now that he’d shaken off the encounter in TÅμr Medb, Cathbad headed for his future. He moved the boulder covering the opening with his kinetics and passed through the protective ward, noting it was undisturbed.

  He stopped short, unable to understand what he saw.

  The inside of the cavern looked as if a war had erupted. The chair and bookcase were strewn across the cavern, smashed into pieces. Books and magazines had been shredded, paper lying everywhere. Huge blocks of ice were piled randomly all over the place.

  Lifting his hand and moving his fingers from left to right, he cleared the debris and ice chunks between him and the far wall where Brynhild’s hoard had been stashed.

  Still there.

  But the chains Tristan had hung from were empty.

  Blood splattered the wall beneath the chains.

  Not an ice dragon in sight.

  Chapter 25

  The afternoon sun dropped closer to the horizon as Casidhe walked the last hundred feet to the rear of the ancestral research centre. They did have a back door entrance, but it remained locked from the inside with a bolt latch that slid through a slot as well.

  Drake had quieted as they neared the village. She’d intended to hike here without a word to avoid addressing this feeling of being unfair to him.

  She hadn’t invited Cathbad or Drake.

  Now she had to deal with the mess they were both making.

  But Drake had started asking about the land and people during their walk. At first, she’d thought he wanted to become more familiar with her country, but he’d murmured almost to himself, “That has changed.”

  It gave her the impression he’d visited here a long time ago. If he’d lived here, he should have been somewhat familiar with what she’d told him about County Galway.

  The more he asked questions unrelated to her, her sword, or the grimoire, the more she lowered her guard while they walked at a fast pace.

  Then he’d ask how far they had left, reminding her he was in a hurry, and that reminder of why they were even together would yank her back to the present.

  She had to keep her head straight.

  They were not friends.

  He was a stranger. An unknown supernatural. One who knew a druid who had lived thousands of years. He’d also argued the red dragon on television was not the true red dragon.

  A freaking lightbulb moment hit her.

  Could her best source for finding information on that dragon be walking an arm’s length away from her?

  She kept her face blank when her heart started dancing around at the chance to learn something that could help her find Skarde.

  When she reached the backside of the ancestral centre, she leaned forward to peer around the corner of the building. The gray light of late day made it hard to see clearly, but everything appeared to be its normal quiet.

  She could feel Drake standing close behind her.

  Too close.

  The man had no sense of personal space. He believed whatever he wanted took precedence over what anyone else wanted.

  “What do ya wait for, lass?” Drake asked.

  “To see if we can reach the front unnoticed.”

  “I told ya I will cloak us when ya are ready.”

  True, but she was stalling.

  She had a bad feeling about entering the centre at all. What if Cathbad waited there?

  “I will keep ya safe,” Drake whispered next to her ear, as if he’d read her mind. Could he?

  “Are you liftin’ my thoughts?” she groused.

  “No. Why would ya accuse me of such a thing?”

  She’d insulted him?

  Casidhe angled around and wished she hadn’t.

  He leaned on a hand propped against the wall above her head. The giant loomed over her, his face just inches from hers.

  Drake took up too much airspace.

  Far more than a normal person, but then he was not normal, was he?

  He took up more space than a supernatural, too.

  “Have ya lost your tongue?” he asked, sounding serious, but the glint in his eyes taunted her.

  “My tongue is just fine.” She straightened up, pushing his chest until he stood upright. “I asked because Quinn read my mind earlier.”

  “He did not read your mind. He only entered to the point of seeing those faces. Nothin’ more.”

  Why was he angry at her assumption? “You two have telepathic communication,” she argued.

  “That does not mean I can speak to anyone mind-to-mind, only with ... my people.”

  Just who were those people he kept referencing?

  She had to find out.

  Every time she had her anger securely in place, he knocked it loose.

  Drake had been considerate since last night’s battle, even if he had hunted her down again. He’d fought, covering her back when those Imortiks attacked at her cottage and when they met again in the forest.

  In fact, if she were honest, she might not have survived had Drake and Quinn not have shown up when they did in the forest.

  “I did not read your mind when I said I would keep ya safe, lass. I could see your white knuckles on the edge of the building while ya hesitated on goin’ forward or not,” he explained.

  His deep voice spoken so softly rattled her. And he’d started calling her lass instead of Luigsech. A nice change since he’d used her last name almost like an angry curse at times.

  Then he destroyed what few good points he’d gained by grumbling, “We need to keep movin’ and find that grimoire.”

  Turning back to check around the corner once more, she said, “Cloak us.”

  A second later, he said, “’Tis done. Ya have room to walk eight to ten feet from me.”

  Not nearly enough.

  She hurried ahead until she reached the walkway to the front door of her building.

  He stood right next to her when she retrieved a key to the lock she’d hidden outside the building.

  She’d have to find a new hiding spot.

  Once inside, she asked, “Can you shield the office lights?”

  “Would be best if we had a candle to carry around inside the cloakin’ instead.”

  She left the lights off and dug the LED keychain light from her pocket and pressed the button to deliver light.

  “Clever lass. You can shine that anywhere and my cloakin’ will hide it from sight.”

  See? There he went again giving her a compliment. “Okay, good.”

  She moved beyond the front office to the bookcases on the backside of the wall behind Fenella’s desk. This place seemed empty without her, much like the hole in Casidhe’s chest from worrying about her friend.

  Casidhe had been here alone many times, but deep down inside she’d always believed Fenella would return.

  Now, she didn’t know what to believe. “How long before we hear from Quinn about Fenella?”

  “I will tell ya as soon as I hear.”

  Spinning to him, she asked, “Do you have a phone?”

  He shook his head.

  “Can Quinn reach you with telepathy from wherever he went?”

  He nodded. “Where will ya start lookin’ for the book?”

  She could only stall so long. What would happen if she found the grimoire and Drake took the information from her to hunt for it on his own?

  Cathbad would kill her and Fenella.

  She had no doubt. She’d realized it while walking today. He’d given her a book of the dark druids. Duh.

  And she wouldn’t be surprised if Cathbad was in charge of those druids, the top of the h
eap. The Seanóir.

  She could not keep putting off finding out who Drake was. To show him anything on finding the grimoire would be dangerous without full disclosure of who she had staring over her shoulder. He had the ability to take anything from her and cloak himself to leave.

  He had other abilities he had yet to show her.

  Stepping back as far as the cloaking would allow, she turned to face him. “I’ll be honest with you, Drake. I am not comfortable huntin’ that grimoire without knowin’ more about you.”

  All the pleasant time spent with this man melted beneath his flash of anger. “Ya will just have to become comfortable. I must have those volumes and soon. Every minute, every hour, and every single day counts. I have many lives dependin’ upon it.”

  “So you say. You’ve come here and snooped on me, then expect me to just accept whatever you tell me.” The backpack had become heavy over the last two miles, but she would not take it off and sacrifice fast access to her sword. “If I make a mistake and give you even one volume—that’s if I can find it—and then Cathbad shows up, he may kill Fenella.”

  Drake shoved a hand through his thick hair. “We established that we both have people in danger and we must work together.”

  No, he had not established that Tristan was a real person who had been captured. “That all sounds fine except I don’t know which side of you and Cathbad to stand on.”

  He stilled. “Ya say you are a Luigsech. Tell me what ya know of the Treoirs.”

  “Why?”

  “If ya truly know the history, then I will give ya a reason to work with me.”

  “I’m not sharin’ Treoir history.”

  His face erupted in fury. “’Tis not a game. People will die if we do not find those volumes!”

  “So you say.”

  “Is it money? I will pay whatever ya ask.”

  That was a hell of an offer, but she slowly shook her head. “Information on some families can’t be bought. It must be given freely, but only to those who deserve it. Offerin’ me money proves you do not know who the Luigsech family were to the Treoirs.”

  He crossed his arms and calm returned to his face. “Actually I know more than ya realize. A Luigsech squire would carry the history from one generation to the next, ready to freely share it with those from the Treoir family. Ya are not human. Ya are not of the Luigsech family. Ya are an imposter.”