Of Blades and Blood | Witcher

xxvii. Violent and Loving Truth

Dettlaff was not going to have what he loved taken from him. Ever again.

The estate was gloomy as they neared dusk. Time, his everlasting enemy, felt different over the course of this day. Slow. And he'd staved off a rage he hadn't been acquainted with for decades with a fight unlike any other; a war within him it took Regis a good deal of talking to simmer down. The grey-washed stone bathing in soft cloud light would have been bathed in crimson instead if he'd gotten a hold of its location sooner.

Best we take this calmly, Regis said, for we don't know if she's there. So there the vampires were, standing beside one another in a very stiff silence and anger, looking upon the estate Dandelion was in at this moment just atop this hill.

"What is taking him so long?" Dettlaff grumbled.

"Patience, Dettlaff."

"Patience will not get Alma back unharmed."

"Unbridled violence could have the same effect. Let us wait a bit more."

"I have told you what I believe a day could do in such a place."

"He will be out soon. He knows what he's to do."

"And his foolishness won't ruin it all?"

"Dandelion's lack of tact might leave him unprepared for such things as combat and spying, but in this matter, his fame will serve him best. They will wait on him hand and foot, especially if he comes with a bit of coin."

"Just as those pigs buy bodies. Abuse women. Like Alma."

Regis let out a long sigh and Dettlaff felt his soft hand land on his shoulder and squeeze.

"I shall not pretend to know what she has now experienced," he said slowly. "No matter, we will get her out safe and sound. Now trust Dandelion for a little while. For Alma's sake - and mine."

Dettlaff grunted softly, shrugging his shoulder to remove his friend's grip, misguided as he believed it was. He listened out of respect and perhaps some subconscious understanding of what he was saying but believed he should have gone in there many hours ago. But now they'd been this far. And the wind whistled down the hill from the eerie walls of the estate. A few gruff guards stood watch. And Dettlaff couldn't hear enough from the inside.

Until off in the distance came a little spot of purple, stalking his way out of the large front doors. Dettlaff shifted his weight in anticipation and quickly felt Regis' eyes on him.

The guards paid the hurried figure no mind. As it drew nearer, Dettlaff heard faintly the troubadour muttering to himself about being in a rush. He clenched his fists and waited, longer. Dandelion got atop his horse and rode off, and that was the vampires' cue to fly off a quarter mile and meet him where no one at the estate could see if they tried.

Meeting Dandelion by a patch of birch trees, Dettlaff came forward quickly after appearing from smoke. Dandelion jumped at the sudden entrance, but sincerely and rapidly nodded to his companions.

"She's there, and she's in bad shape," he ran his hands through his hair and readjusted his cap. Dettlaff hissed.

"What do you mean 'in bad shape'?!"

"Shaken up! She's desperate to get out! As anyone would be, that man gave me the creeps."

"What man?"

"Some Rarcog or something," Dandelion put his hands on his hips, breathing deeply to stave off the concern between his eyebrows. "Runs the place. Not surprised it's a trafficking front. I mean, most brothels are, but–"