Page 147 of Vampire's Choice
“I’m sorry to hear it. When we attended the Circus, she read my lady’s palm. She was truthful, kind and hopeful.”
“That’s a good way to describe her.” Ruth rubbed her forehead, pressed her fingertips against it. Chess…
When Kaela returned, she reached for her phone, putting it on speaker. “I told Yvette I’d contact her after our meeting.”
Merc stood beside Ruth’s chair, his hand resting on her tense shoulder. What is it?
I don’t know. Just…going over what he said. She shook her head. Creepy, goddamn Trads.
The troupe was outside the portal for another three-day performance, and it was fortunately past nightfall in that time zone. When Yvette answered, she was in Clara and Marcellus’s quarters. Maddock and Charlie were also there.
After they provided a report on Asva’s visit, Yvette sighed and echoed Ruth’s own thoughts. “I could wish for something a little less cryptic.”
“Does it suggest anything to you, Clara?” Ruth asked.
The hacking cough that preceded the answer tightened Ruth’s stomach muscles. She could tell the weakness of Clara’s voice visibly startled Kaela and Garron. “The whole chess conversation makes me feel worried. An anxiety… Something…”
“Something right there in front of us,” Ruth said.
Clara paused. “Yes, exactly. And I can’t explain why, but my instincts tell me we should contact Lady Lyssa. Relay every bit of the conversation to her.”
Lady Lyssa… No. It wouldn’t make sense. Trads didn’t have the strength or planning skills to pull that kind of ballsy move. But Asva thought they’d struck an alliance.
An alliance with someone who maybe would pull a move that ballsy.
Ruth bolted to her feet. “‘No prince and princess on the chess board,’” she repeated. “Kane and Farida are visiting my father’s island. With Lord Mason.”
Mason was probably the third strongest vampire in their ranks, but depending on how many—and what—would come against him, he could be overwhelmed. Especially if his daughter and godson could be used as leverage against him.
Mal had plenty of magical defenses on the island, but they weren’t designed for an offensive, pitched battle. Ruth had a very bad feeling that was what was about to happen.
If it hadn’t already.
Damn it, she was out of range. No mind link. Kaela was talking urgently to Yvette as Ruth pulled out her cell phone and dialed. She bit back a curse as the answering machine picked up on her father’s office landline.
Ruth turned to Kaela. As she did, she could hear Clara’s tearing cough continuing over the line. “It may not mean anything,” she told the overlord.
“Trust your instincts. What are they telling you, Ruth?”
She looked at Merc. “We need to get to the island. Now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The ominous feeling crammed into every corner of her mind, even as she told herself logical things. Like that it was totally normal for her father not to answer the phone. He was probably out on the sanctuary, working with the cats.
Adan was with Derek, doing Guardian things in another realm, out of Ruth’s range. Out of anyone’s. Yvette and Maddock would head for the island, but it would take time to reach a portal in their current location and configure it for the jump to the island.
No one could get there any faster than she could. She had an angel. And if all was well, Ruth could call off the cavalry.
She was glad she’d worn jeans and a T-shirt at breakfast, casual wear. Battle wear. When she and Merc moved back out to the balcony, there was only time for a quick nod to a worried-looking Kaela and Garron. Kaela had the phone set to her ear, trying Mal’s number again.
Merc went as fast as he could go without damaging her. Even so, she willed him to go faster, faster. When he stopped, the sudden inertia made her gorge rise. She vomited everything in her stomach, trying to miss his supporting arm, not entirely successfully. Struggling through the haze on her vision the dizziness caused, she attempted to reinflate her lungs. “Where are we?” she wheezed. “Why are we stopped?”
“We’re over the island. There’s a shield over it, Ruth.”
“Over the entire island?” Thank God for Adan’s tweaking.
Then her gaze cleared enough to see Merc’s grim face. “Yes. It’s not your father’s magic. It’s not a defense.”