Lothaire

18

Several realities had become apparent to Ellie as the immortals had talked in front of her like she was an oblivious toddler in a high chair.

One: Lothaire was having difficulty finding the ring that equaled Ellie’s death.

Two: His concentration suffered when he went round the bend.

Three: Ellie needed to make him go round the bend as often as possible.

Four: She risked dying with every attempt. And that was okay. Win-win.

Yet now his forbidding expression was doing a number on her courage. To bolster it again, she reminded herself that she was already as good as dead.

Ellie had once read an article about wartime post-traumatic stress disorder. She remembered one particular army officer would tell new front-line soldiers, “You died the day you signed on for this war. You’re already dead. So why not be brave now?”

I died the day Saroya landed in me. So why not take Lothaire’s sanity down with me?

His voice vibrating with rage, the vampire said, “I’d been tortured and deprived of blood for weeks before I faced Dorada.”

Ellie gave him a look as if she was mildly embarrassed for him. “But wasn’t she still a mummy or something? Regenerating and all? Sounds like you’re the flyweight to her heavy.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hag’s jaw drop.

Lothaire traced in front of her, clenching his fists so hard blood began to drip from them. “The sorceress had a dozen Wendigo guards that I defeated.”

“I don’t know what a Wendigo is. Could be a Lore bunny. But it sounds like you consider that feat a big deal.”

Hag intervened. “Wendigos are ravenous zombies, contagious even to immortals, lightning fast, with claws and fangs as long as blades. In the past, one has been enough to decimate an entire species of immortals. Much less a dozen.”

In a chipper tone, Ellie asked her, “You’re sweet on Lothaire, ain’t you?”

Now Hag strode toward her with undisguised malice.

In a disbelieving tone, Lothaire grated, “Your insolence—”

“I’m just funning with you two chuckleheads. But in all seriousness, Lothaire, you should defeat Dorada before you worry about the ring.”

Hag said, “If you won’t shut your mouth, I’ll seal your lips for you.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Guess you don’t want my advice.”

“He told you to shut up.”

But Lothaire raised his hand. “Occasionally my new pet does tricks.” To Elizabeth, he said, “Speak.”

“If Dorada can control all evil creatures, then you better get while the gettin’s good with that one.” She held his gaze. “I’m keenly aware that there’s no fighting someone when they have complete power over you.”

“If I find the ring I seek, then I could defeat her with it.”

“You told me it might take a month to find it?”

“Unlikely. Yet possible.”

“Dorada will be at full strength in a fraction of that time. You should always attack the time-sensitive task first.”

“A reasonable deduction, but you don’t have all the variables. The ring’s location might change. If I don’t reach it, I could lose it forever.”

“And that would be a shame?”

Just when Ellie decided she’d pushed too far—and met her goals—he told her, “I will talk with Hag privately now.”

“Where exactly do you want me to go, Lothaire?”

“You wanted to see the ocean?” he said in a cryptic tone. “It’s just outside. Go. Behold.”

Excitement trilled through her. “Truly?”

“We’re in the Outer Banks.”

Ellie leapt to her feet, racing to the front door.

Lothaire murmured, “In five, four, three . . .”

“What are you talking about?” Hag asked.

“The mortal’s about to run face-first into the—”

“Ahhh!”

“—boundary.” He smirked.

“You don’t usually torment your prey, Lothaire.”

“Yes, I do,” he corrected. “And besides, my prey doesn’t usually start it.”

“Is her mind faulty? Mortal minds break so readily.”

“She wants to provoke me, to goad my madness, so I’ll attack and kill her.”

“She’s taking advantage of your greatest weakness so soon? Then she’s surprisingly clever, is she not?” Hag added an envelope of green crystals to a flask, and it briefly fizzled. “Are you certain she’s not your Bride?”

“Careful, Hag,” he warned her, seething that she would even consider Elizabeth for him. “Your past employers might have forgiven your impudence; I will not.”

“I never predicted your female would be Saroya.”

“In so many words, you did. ‘A great and fearless queen beloved by vampires, who will secure your throne for you,’ ” he said. “Ellie Ann, late of Appalachia, just isn’t going to inspire Hordely, vampirely love.”

Elizabeth was not a royal, not a noble, not a vampire. Not even one among the lowest of the Loreans.

Saroya was a deity.

Hag’s lips thinned. Still unconvinced? How could she be? Of course Lothaire’s Bride was a goddess.

He intended to start a dynasty with her that would last for eternity. The mother of that dynasty could not be an ignorant mortal peasant.

“Do you remember when I first found Elizabeth?” he asked. “How I came back and told you there’d been an error? I railed and denied your vision, until I found Saroya and everything made sense. It was like an epiphany. And you do recall that I was never blooded until I saw Saroya.”

“I could roll now. Find out for certain.”

“You might as well roll to find out if the sky is blue. To waste your power on that, when you can barely eke out enough to aid me as it is? Among other things, you were supposed to have located the Valkyrie queen. But to no avail.”

When she opened her mouth again, Lothaire cut her off. “Goddess of blood trumps mortal trailer trash. Period. To even entertain the alternative is ridiculous.” He leveled his gaze on her. “I will never—and can never—forsake Saroya. Raise this subject again in any fashion, and I’ll slit your throat to your spine. Understood?”

She muttered, “Understood.”

At least one female knew when to back down before him. Not that Hag was cowardly, but above all things, the fey female excelled in picking her battles. “Now, in regard to Dorada. I don’t want to use the ring to defeat her.”

He’d planned to use it no more than three times. Though the Ring of Sums was simple to utilize, it was one of the trickiest talismans in the Lore. The ring could make almost any wish come true, but the more one used it, the more it chose to misinterpret the wishes.

In the past, he’d heard of two different possessors. One man’s first wish was for a fortune in gold. Chests of it had appeared outside his front door. Another man’s fourth wish was for the same. Gold had fallen from the sky, burying his family.

And the ring allowed no wish to be reversed.

Lothaire could either put Dorada on hold and risk the ring’s misinterpretation later, or face her now and risk that the ring would be moved from Webb’s compound.

The logical move would indeed be to seek out the sorceress. “Find her for me,” Lothaire said, “and I’ll face her.”

Hag nodded. “I’ll be on the lookout as much as my visions will allow.”

“And what of my confusion, my lack of focus?”

“Your Bride can calm your mind as well as anything I can concoct for you.”

“What should I do? Bring Saroya with me as I fight to reclaim my ring?” She won’t rise anyway, his mind whispered.

No, tonight she would. She must. Would it be enough to soothe his mind?

In any case, he would still seek a potion. “I can’t expose her to the Lore. My enemies would annihilate her.”

“Then return to her proximity as much as possible. Talk to her. Touch her.”

“It’s inconvenient. Just brew something for me.”

“There’s a remedy, but I’ll need five ash vines to make it. The vines aren’t usually found on this plane. I’ll have to roll to locate some.”

“Do it.”

She pulled that wad of black cloth from her belt, unfolding it onto the counter, loosing dozens of small bones of various shapes. She scooped them up and rolled them like dice, then studied their placement, focusing her foresight. “There’s a pack of wolverine shifters in the forests of Moldova. They use the vines to heal their mortal slaves after vigorous sex.”

“How do I find the pack’s den?”

She hesitantly rolled her bones again. “It’s somewhere within a day’s travel of Riora’s temple.”

Riora the goddess of impossibility. “I know the location.” There’d be roughly six hours left before dawn in Moldova. He would trace outward from the temple, mile by mile, while checking back for Saroya’s rising every hour. “I go directly. I want the potion base ready for my return.”

“There will be dozens of males,” Hag said. “Can’t you use a blood debt for an extra sword or two? Only a madman would storm a shifter den alone.”

He raised a brow. And your point is?