Page 41 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

One second, he was aloof, keeping himself at arm’s length from the world, and the next, he was surrounding her, pushing her in a direction she did not want to go, and it confused her.

“Are you ready to go into the room?” She tried to pull back her hand, needing to move away from his commanding presence.

He nodded and stepped over the threshold, pulling her with him. The minute her foot touched the dividing line between hall and room, she walked through an invisible force, as if someone put up a wall of congealed air.

While unsettling, she pushed her way through and into the room. “That was a guarded barrier, wasn’t it? I felt the vibrations as I passed through.”

“Yes—a specialty of Haman’s. We only have a few minutes until the guards arrive, so I need you to help me search for any possible clue. Look for a notebook, bound papers of any kind—anything handwritten notes might be written on. He could never remember his spells and had to write everything in journals. Finding them is our only chance to discover his disease concoction.”

She glanced around the room, taking in the two long tables in the center of the ample space. Along the nearby wall were all kinds of scientific and medical instruments, some she had never seen before.

She walked closer, wanting to reach out and touch a few of the stranger-looking ones, but with the healer's dabbling in dark magic, touching even one would not be a good idea—maybe even a death sentence. “I wonder what some of these are used for. Look at this odd contraption. It’s half microscope and half robot.”

“Just don’t touch anything. Who knows what kind of security spells he has left in his absence? Haman trusts no one.”

“I gathered that from how you’ve described him. I’d say he is paranoid, egotistical, and diabolical.” She walked to the far end of the room, where someone had chiseled a spot for a cabinet. She peeked between the partially open doors. Inside was a mess of paper scraps thrown in every which way.

Looking around the neat room, she realized the stash of messy papers was unimportant to Haman. Not a speck of dirt anywhere, and each instrument had been placed precisely on the shelves, so messy piles of anything would be inconsequential.

Her gaze narrowed on the drawer’s contents. With a single thought, gloves appeared on her hands, and she rummaged through the drawer, finding wadded papers and food wrappers. It really was filled with trash.

A nasty odor wafted from the next drawer. Swallowing her disgust, she continued searching, but it was also stuffed with trash and pieces of rotting food. The following two drawers held the same mess.

Staring at the last drawer, she wondered if she should mess with it. She would have wasted precious moments if this one was like the others. Not wanting to give up, she jerked open the last drawer and found papers again. This time, however, they seemed to be arranged as if trying to cover something.

She pushed them aside and, in the bottom, lay four jars. Two contained some thick, murky substance, and the other two were filled about a third of the way with a golden liquid.

“Cyran? I may have found something you can use.” She glanced up at him, noticing how he shoved one of the books from the small bookshelf he had been searching into his magical satchel that appeared and disappeared on command. She wanted one of those—at least to carry a few necessities.

He strode toward her and glanced down, then jerked his gaze to hers. “You didn’t touch them, did you?”

She raised one eyebrow. “Do I look that stupid? No, I did not touch them. Haman’s probably coated the outside glass with the very disease we’re trying to stop.” She showed him her hands. “I summoned protective gloves.”

“Good. Because I believe he has done that very thing.”

Her blood chilled. His satchel reappeared, and he muttered something in an ancient language she didn’t recognize. A smaller, glistening silver bag floated out and into his hands. He spread the opening wider and whispered in the same language as a few moments ago.

The four jars rose from the bottom of the drawer and drifted into the bag. He pulled the drawstrings tight and placed it in his satchel, which once more disappeared.

“Will they not break? You didn’t individually wrap them with anything.”

“The bag is special. The moment I closed the drawstrings, the unique fibers wrapped around each jar, thickening so the glass and contents would be protected until I speak the counterspell.”

“That’s amazing. You’re part healer and part mad scientist, aren’t you?”

“Quite possibly. My brain never stops. Ideas pop in, and I am compelled to create whatever I think about. Some ideas are easier to design than others, but it’s like a puzzle. Finding the pieces that fit is what excites me.”

“Your life sounds so much more exciting than mine. At first, living on Midgard was fun and adventurous—an amazing new world I could explore. Now, though, it’s just somewhere I live. I don't often leave the chateau in France, which makes me feel so reclusive, and that’s not my personality at all.”

She frowned as a stray thought fluttered in the back of her brain. “As I've said, I only recently learned Émilien was my father, but I still think of him as my brother—in the haven of our own home. You, however, have been around him on the outside, planning and fighting by his side. Would he have placed a spell to keep me like that if he didn’t want me to explore on my own, content with the comfort of my books and home?”

Cyran shrugged. “I am not a brother nor a father, so answering you would be conjecture on my part. That said, if I had a beautiful daughter who needed my protection, and I couldn’t be there all the time, then that is what I would do.”

Her eyes widened as she struggled to control her angry outburst, and he held up his hand. “But, before you start yelling at me, I would remove the safeguards while I was with her because they would no longer be necessary. I would also tell my daughter what I was doing. No one likes feeling controlled and imprisoned, most of all an elf. If, and I do meanif, he warded you to stay within the confines of your home, then I am certain he did it out of worry and love for you.”

With one last glance around the room, he held out his hand for her to take. “From what you have told me about your history, Émilien had no clue how to be a single father, much less a cursed elf who could not shift from the body of a wolf. I can’t even imagine caring for a small child with claws. Now, wemustgo. The longer we remain, the risk of being discovered increases.”

She placed her hand in his as a male voice shouted at them from the hallway. Four German soldiers rushed into the room.

---