by Caris Roane
When Thorne finally put his phone away and turned in her direction, she said, “You’d better get your woman over here, and while you’re at it, I want to see Jean-Pierre and Fiona as well. Now. Within the next sixty seconds.”
Thorne might have been the Supreme High Commander of the Allied Ascender Forces, but she was still in charge. He met her gaze, his hazel eyes clear and beautiful in a way they hadn’t been in centuries. He was a new man thanks to the bonding of the breh-hedden. He nodded and withdrew his Droid from the pocket of his slacks, then started issuing orders.
“What’s going on?” Alison asked.
Endelle looked up at her. “You’ll find out, and it isn’t just about your wings.”
Marguerite arrived first. Her hair was short and platinum blond and her six-months-pregnant belly stuck straight out in front of her. She was a full foot shorter than Thorne. He slid his arm around her back and leaned down to kiss her. She wore a snug blouse, and his hand went to her stomach. She looked beautiful. Hell, together they could have been a pair of Mortal Earth movie stars.
Marguerite had turned out to be one big surprise in Endelle’s world and in their small circle of über-powerful vampires. She had a mountain of power as a bona fide red variety of obsidian flame and as the most powerful Seer on the planet. Endelle had made her Supreme High Seer of Second Earth, a distinction that had no particular perks and a lot of responsibility. Marguerite had translated her job into a constant effort to secure global Seers rights for the frequently enslaved Seer population.
Near the east wall of windows, a shimmering brought Jean-Pierre and Fiona into the office, both wearing jeans with matching tanks and gazing at each other like no one else existed. Fiona had fang-marks on her neck. Oh, shit, the couple had been doin’ the nasty when she pulled them in here. She was almost sorry she’d disturbed them, but she had more important stuff going on than a little nookie between breh-mates.
Jean-Pierre had a head of gold-streaked light brown hair that curled however the hell it wanted. She could tell he’d crammed it into the cadroen, another sign that he’d been busy when he got Thorne’s call. He had eyes the color of the ocean, big teeth, and a big smile. Fucking gorgeous.
Fiona, the gold variety of obsidian flame, had silver-blue eyes and long chestnut hair. She’d at least combed her hair, but with the exception of some lip gloss, she wore no makeup. She didn’t need to, though. She was in love and all aglow, maybe the best makeup a woman could ever wear.
“What is it, Endelle?” Jean-Pierre asked as he and Fiona drew close to her desk. His accent still carried a French lilt and drove the ladies wild. She often heard him speaking quietly to Fiona in French, after which of course she would end up wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. How many times had she seen the couple just take off from any old event once he started in with his mother tongue?
She glanced from one ascender to the next. “Have a couple of things to share, and before you start yelling at me about not sharing sooner, I just found out about both these things.” She jerked her thumb at Alison. “This one got her wings this morning.”
A round of congratulations flew from both couples in Alison’s direction.
“We should have a party,” Marguerite said. Her bonding to Thorne five months ago had released a hostess on the Warriors of the Blood. She often had everyone over to Thorne’s Sedona house. Poker had become a big deal and even drew the unbonded warriors, like Zacharius and Santiago, out of that shithole of a rec room the boys called the Cave.
“Hold your horses, red flame,” Endelle said. “There’s more.” When all eyes were fixed on her once more, she continued, “Alison has been dreaming about the portal to Third Earth again and flying over White Lake. You know what that means, right?”
As one, everyone shifted to stare at Alison.
“Damn, Alison,” Thorne said. “I didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“What?” Marguerite turned to Thorne. “Why don’t I know what this means?”
He looked down at her and told her the story about Alison’s ascension, how she’d had numerous dreams about flying over White Lake, about looking up and seeing the blue vortex that led to the third dimension, and that somehow she knew that her destiny was to open the Trough to Third.
Marguerite shifted to stare once more at Alison. “Holy motherfucker.” She then clapped her hand over her mouth, patted her stomach, and said, “Sorry, kids.”
Endelle laughed. But from the time Alison’s daughter, Helena, arrived, they’d all started curbing warrior-speak. Alison scolded everyone because she said she didn’t want baby Helena’s first word to be shit or worse.
Fiona returned to the subject at hand. “Do you have a sense, an intuition, that you’ll be opening the portal soon?”
At that, Endelle, swiveled in her chair to look up at Alison as well.
Alison blinked several times as though pondering the question. She then met Endelle’s gaze. “Yes, it will be soon. But doesn’t that mean the war will heat up? I always thought, or maybe felt, that once we had contact with Third Earth, the war with Greaves would end.”
“We all thought that,” Thorne said. He said to Endelle, “But how likely does this seem? I’ve been building the army, but we don’t have anywhere near enough warriors to battle Greaves directly.”
Endelle nodded. “I know. But now for my second bit of news, although”—here she glanced at Fiona and Marguerite—“I confess I’m a little surprised that the two of you don’t have word for me as well.” She then looked at their brehs and smiled. “I guess the pair of you have been too busy to notice that Grace is back.”
“What?” At least three ascenders shouted that word at the same time.
Fiona shook her head. “I don’t sense her at all.”
“Well, hopefully it’s because she’s with Leto on Mortal Earth. Maybe the mist Diallo creates to protect the colony isn’t allowing information to travel far. I felt her, though, just a few minutes ago, but then, well, I’m me and I have more power than the bunch of you combined.” She didn’t often brag but it felt kind of good right now. She then launched into exactly how she thought things should unfold, starting with Alison.
She looked up at the blond beauty again. “You’d better get to practicing your flight skills. I have a feeling they’ll be needed within the next few days. Got it?”
“Absolutely. Kerrick has already been working with me. We’re both feeling the urgency. My God, Endelle, do you think this is it? I mean, the war has gone on for so long.”
“I won’t say for sure, but I think it’s possible.” She clapped her hands together. “Now, the second thing is equally important. We’ll need to bring obsidian flame up to speed as fast as possible.” She looked from Thorne to Jean-Pierre. “If I remember correctly, though, most of the warriors will be out at the Borderlands. Both of you said you’d join Leto at the warrior games.”
Marguerite said, “Yes, the four of us are going. So it looks like we’ll see Grace there.”
Endelle nodded. “Good. We’ll get things rolling.” She addressed Thorne. “I just hope your sister doesn’t intend to pull any of her spiritual bullshit and refuse to participate because she needs to meditate or something.”
He just stared at her, looking exasperated as he often did when she opened her mouth.
“Hey,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that. Grace was the one who took off with that good-for-nothing and left Leto flat-footed. Why should I trust that just because she’s come back, she means to do her duty?”
Thorne leaned forward and held her gaze. “Because Grace has tremendous integrity and you know that. She also knows what obsidian flame will mean to you, to all of us. When she left like she did, I know she had a good reason, even if she didn’t share it with us. Coming back, she’ll have a better one.”
“Do you have to be reasonable?”
He smiled. Thorne had a beautiful smile—maybe not quite as brilliant as Jean-Pierre’s, but damn close.
“All right,” she said, waving her hand in his direction. “The warrior games will start in a few hours. The four of you can take off, but, Thorne, please do what you can to impress your sister with all of this. Let both Leto and Grace know about Alison’s wings as well.”
When the two couples vanished, Endelle turned back to Alison, whose gaze dipped down to Endelle’s chest. When Alison frowned, Endelle also glanced at her latest creation. She flipped the pinecones and the resin-coated monarch butterfly necklace. “You no like?”
Alison said, “Well, it’s not in your usual style?”
“Lacks the glam I’m used to rocking. It’s in honor of the warrior games. I’m telling you, though, that colony is so organic, it gives me the scratch. But I thought I should make an effort. I have bee-stilettos to die for.”
“I’m not even gonna ask.”
“Good. So how’s Helena, anyway?” Warrior Kerrick had gotten his woman pregnant on about the third day of her rite of ascension. Talk about virile. Now baby Helena was ten months old, or something like that.
Alison shrugged. “She’s got too many powers for an infant. It’s hard to know what to do with her. She can communicate telepathically now, but hearing that baby gibberish in my head all day is driving me bonkers.”
“Bonkers? That a new psychobabble expression?” Alison had been a therapist by profession before her ascension.
“It is today.”
“Well, you should bring her by. It’s good for morale.” Endelle clasped her fingers together. She doubted she was fooling anyone, but she actually liked Helena. There was a kind of intelligence in her green eyes that Endelle approved of. She wasn’t your ordinary kid.
“I’ll do that.”
Endelle was about to let Alison go, but she had one more person she wanted to alert to these sudden changes. She focused her thoughts on Marcus. Get your ass in here, she sent. She’d given up the complete futility of politeness, oh, about three millennia ago.
On my way. Marcus didn’t complain. He was older than Leto and had a tough hide.
To Alison, she said, “Marcus is coming. I want to let him know what’s doin’.”
“Good idea.”
Within a minute, Marcus appeared at the end of the long, glass-lined hallway. He was one good-looking sonofabitch. He had dark hair, which was now a few good inches down his back and secured in the cadroen. Two nights out of seven he battled at the Borderlands alongside his warrior brothers. The rest of the time he had an office down the hall where he worked his PR and administrative magic.
He was the High Administrator of Southwest Desert Two, but that was just a title. He was really in charge of global PR for Endelle’s administration and had effectively staved off the defection of at least a dozen of her territorial High Administrators around the globe. This was no small thing. If Greaves had gotten his hooks into them, Endelle was pretty sure the self-styled Commander would have already taken the war to its inevitable conclusion and bombed the hell out of Metro Phoenix Two.
Marcus had become one of her numerous miracle workers. But whatever happened from this point forward, especially from a PR standpoint, Marcus would need to be included.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked, glancing from Alison to Endelle. But he frowned as he looked back at Alison, his gaze running over her flight suit. “Is that what I think it is?”
Alison smiled and nodded.
“Shit, you got your wings.”
“I did. This morning.”
“Hot damn, that’s good news.”
Endelle told him the rest, about the dreams and about Grace returning. By the time she was finished, Marcus looked like she’d slapped him hard a few times.
“I’m fucking speechless,” he said. “You know what all this means, or could mean, right?”
Endelle was smiling so hard that her cheeks hurt. “Damn straight I do.”
Marcus put his hand on the top of his head and turned in a full circle. “Okay. Okay. Okay.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“I’m in shock. This is amazing. Okay.”
“You said that.” But Endelle was enjoying herself. These moments that happened so rarely—when she took the time to savor what was a feeling of tremendous hope. She was sure there’d be more assfucking in the days to come, but right now the possibility that the war might just end had her heart still flying about wildly.
Once more, she looked up at Alison. “I want Kerrick off warrior duty. I’ll let Luken know. Your man is now assigned to you indefinitely. Get your flight skills up, and be ready for anything. And in your off-hours, I want you to work with Grace like you did with Fiona. Help her get her obsidian power up to speed.”
Alison tapped her pants pocket and said, “Call me when you need me. As soon as I get back to the house, Kerrick is taking me to White Lake. You’ll find us there for the next several hours.”
“Good. That’s good. And let me know if you see any sign of the vortex.”
Alison left, which meant Endelle was alone with Marcus, but she could do little more than grin, and he kept turning in a circle. She knew his mind. He was no doubt plotting all the ways he could make use of this information to tighten his hold on the High Administrators who’d been making noises about joining Greaves and his bullshit Coming Order.
She was not surprised when he suddenly took off running back down the hall, shouting over his shoulder, “I have calls to make.”
Now that she was alone, Endelle let the moment play itself out. Her heart was on fire, revved up because for the first time in a long time, she had hope—beautiful, wild, shining hope.
Breathe, my beloved,
Take my essence into your soul,
That you might live
Forever in my arms.
—Collected Poems, Beatrice of Fourth
CHAPTER 3
Leto didn’t understand where he was. He opened his eyes slowly and drew in a long breath, which of course brought a powerful memory flooding back, of coupling with Grace, of taking her while in his beast-state.
Oh, God.
He was facedown on some kind of mattress with extremely soft sheets. The light from the window was faint, even dull, very dull. He lifted up, glanced at his wings, and was stunned to see that he was still in full-mount.
He flexed his shoulders slightly and breathed a sigh of relief. He was no longer in his beast-state with his back and shoulders swelled to ridiculous sizes, like he’d been built to swing about five maces at once.
He levitated very carefully to his feet, taking pains not to tweak or bend his wings or feathers. He’d been fortunate that during the unexpected mount he hadn’t broken any of the panels.
He drew in another deep breath, and with the practice of many centuries he began drawing his wings into his back. The feathers narrowed to super-fine points and the superstructure melted into the wing-locks as though being absorbed into his body. The process raked his nerves because it took longer now. Even his wings had changed. At least he could manipulate them whether he was in his regular vampire state or in his larger version.
He glanced at the pile of clothes. He’d had enough sense to disrobe before he transformed.
He looked around then back down at the sheet. There was blood near the head of the mattress. He’d savaged Grace’s neck. That much he could remember.
He shuddered, remembering with pleasure the taste of her blood and the fire it put in his stomach. Her blood had given him stamina, and he had lasted long enough to bring her repeatedly. That she had thoroughly enjoyed herself was clear to him, so he wasn’t too worried.
On the other hand, she’d left the basement.
He put a hand to his forehead. He had no idea how long he’d been out.
The light at the small window had dulled some. The day must have advanced.
More than anything, he wanted a shower. But before he left his basement prison, he sent a telepathic thread in multiple directions, hunting: Grace, are you there?
<
br /> A moment later, her soft melodic voice returned within his mind. I’m walking in the forest. Don’t worry. I’m within the confines of the mist. Had she sensed how tense he was? Or did she just know intuitively that he would worry?
She added, I just let Marguerite and Fiona know that I’m back.
We should talk.
I know. There’s a lot of ground to cover. I’m going to swim in the hot spring at the rise above your cabin. Come to me when you’re ready.
For a moment, he grew so still he wasn’t sure he was even breathing. One of the reasons he had built the cabin in this location was because of the spring. He’d carved out a small bathing area, enough for him to relax in if not to swim laps. He often soaked there trying to forget his misdeeds, God help him.
But Grace was there now.
Naked.
Leto?
Yes?
Are you all right?
Was he all right? Dammit, he could barely breathe or think. The breh-hedden had done this to him, rendered him insensible.
I’m fine.
I’ll wait for you here.
Good. Good. He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He felt that she was no longer there, no longer connected telepathically. It was something that he could communicate with her at a distance, but then he was a vampire of power and she was the blue variety of obsidian flame.
His heart sank. What the hell was he supposed to do with all of this?
He lifted his arm, an unconscious gesture, and folded straight to his bathroom two stories up. The cabin had two floors and a basement. The upper floor consisted of a small study, a large bathroom, and a bedroom. He was a big man and he needed room.
Sometimes at night he would pace the length of the upper floor, from window to window, a distance of fifty feet. The bedroom had a fireplace. When he wasn’t pacing, he sat in the nearby large leather chair and stared at the burning logs, at the flames rising, at the latent power of the wood being released in the form of heat.
He tried to spend part of each day chopping wood just to rid himself of some of the deep, unrelenting tension he felt.