Page 82 of Shield of Fire

“As I said, the area is sacred and few venture there for anything more than funeral rites. There’ve been no reports of any godly or supernatural events as far as I’m aware, but Cloondeash would have a record of it if there was.” He drained his coffee and pushed to his feet. “I’ll start making some calls.”

“Now?” I said. “When we’ve that big old bed to explore?”

He laughed. “You look ready to fall asleep, and that’s never a momentous start for lovemaking.”

“Maybe lovemaking will revitalize me.”

“But sleep definitely will. Get some rest. We can party in that big old bed once the arrangements have been made.”

I sighed in mock disappointment, then blew him a kiss and headed into the bedroom. After finding the remote and closing the blinds, I stripped off and climbed under the heavy comforter. I was asleep in minutes and slept solidly and undisturbed.

It was the delicious smell of bacon that finally dragged me back to the land of the living. I yawned and stretched, then glanced at the other side of the bed. The dent in the pillow beside mine suggested that at some point, Cynwrig had slept, even if he was now out in the kitchen cooking.

I flung off the covers, shivered my way into one of the dressing gowns hanging on the back of the door, then padded into the main area. He glanced up, his gaze sweeping me and coming up amused. “That thing does absolutely nothing for your luscious curves.”

“But it’s warm, and that’s all that matters. Hasn’t this place got any heating?”

“It does, but it’s obviously not much good. I’ll have to get it fixed before the tourist season begins.”

I perched on one of the stools near the counter and snagged a bit of bacon before he could object. The clock on the kitchen stove said it was just after twelve, meaning I’d been asleep for about five hours. Which was nowhere near enough, but better than nothing.

“How’d you go with Cloondeash?”

“Better than expected. We’re heading for the airport at two to fly across.”

“We? As in, you and me? I thought you said that wouldn’t happen?”

“When it comes to the Cloondeash encampment, that remains an undisputable fact. However, I did get directions to Gruama’s remaining accessible areas.”

“What about our red-haired elf?”

“There’re seven Halaks listed in the database—five of those are dead, one is an elderly statesman, and the other is his grandson, and barely in his teens.”

“That suggests Halak might be a family name and that our red-haired elf is far older than he looks.”

Although that wasn’t actually unusual—both Cynwrig and Mathi were centuries older than me, even if in lifespan terms we were around the same biological age.

He nodded. “I’ve asked for him to be interviewed and for the written records to be checked as a matter of urgency.”

“Written records?”

He nodded. “Compulsory registration of births didn’t start happening in the UK until the mid-1800s, remember, and Cloondeash was one of the last settlements to welcome computerization. The records room there is huge and, if the old man doesn’t come through with any leads, it could take them days for them to find the information we need.”

And we didn’t have days. We barely had a day.

I shivered but didn’t chase that sliver of intuition any further. I wasn’t ready for more bad news just yet.

He flipped a couple of poached eggs onto two plates, handed me one, and then pushed a platter of toast and bacon my way. I helped myself to both.

“Did you ask if there was anything we needed to be careful of when we enter Gruama?”

He sat on the stool next to me, his jean-clad leg brushing mine. The heat that skittered through me echoed in his eyes. The man had seduction on his mind, and I couldn’t wait.

But there was bacon on my plate, and that could not be ignored.

“Only that most of the old tunnels are impassible. They sent a photo of a map listing the layout and location of the remaining viable ones.”

I frowned. “Dark elves control earth and stone, so why hasn’t anyone gone into Gruama and restored it?”

---