Obsidian Flame (25 page)

He rose, showered, and prepared for battle.

The hour had come.

Time to destroy Leto. As for Grace, he could hardly wait to see her again and to draw her meadow, wildflower scent into his nostrils.

*   *   *

Greaves was in the bathroom, flexing the DNA-altered claw of his left hand, when he heard a woman shouting, and not far from him. He frowned slightly, since he recognized the woman’s voice.

He was naked and aroused because working his claw was connected to his cock. Both were symbols of power. Flexing his claw therefore brought lovely ripples of excitement deep into his groin.

He held his erection in his hand as he left the bathroom. He found Julianna standing near the foot of his bed, naked, her back arched, her arms spread wide, her head tilted toward the ceiling and screaming profanities the likes of which he had never heard leave her throat before.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked, walking calmly toward her.

He was both glad to see her and yet extremely suspicious of her sudden return to his bedroom. She’d been his lover for a few heavenly months until Casimir had required her as one of the prices he’d demanded for serving Greaves. He had hated parting with her, and deep within his mind he’d promised himself that Casimir would pay for having insisted on her.

Yet here she was, inexplicably back in his Geneva bedroom.

She turned toward him. Her body was perfection. She had perfect large breasts, which were peaked because of either the chill in the room or her rage. He somehow doubted she was aroused.

“What did you do to him?” she cried.

He spread his hands wide. “I don’t know what you mean.” He snapped his claw, which brought her attention momentarily to one of her favorite tools. Her eyes flared, but she wasn’t to be so easily distracted.

“Casimir sent me back but he wouldn’t tell me why. He said it was some kind of ascended bullshit so of course I figured you must be involved.”

He pressed the claw to his naked chest. “You wound me, my dear. I’ve had nothing to do with this and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She turned her head to the side but eyed him up and down. When her gaze hesitated on his cock, he reached down with the claw and stroked himself. She’d always enjoyed his claw.

She sighed and her shoulders relaxed. She even took a few steps toward him. “I don’t mean to be a bitch and I missed you, but he dismissed me like I was some sort of ordinary prostitute for whom he had no further use.”

“You are anything but ordinary, not in any respect.” He snapped his claw again.

He watched her shudder. “Now tell me exactly what Casimir said so that I can interpret the situation for you. I am convinced you have somehow mistaken his intentions.”

She turned and sat down on the edge of the bed. She told him everything, including the recent invasion of her mouth. He moved toward her, gently rubbing the crown of his cock. Now that she was here, well, she was simply delicious.

“So what was he thinking about when he took you in that brutal manner?”

“I have no idea.”

“You didn’t enter his mind?”

Julianna tilted her head. “You know very well I don’t have that kind of power. Certainly not with a Fourth ascender.”

But Greaves had a suspicion that something had happened in Moscow Two when Casimir failed to acquire Leto with his stasis skills. There had been just the smallest hesitation on Casimir’s part, as well as an astonished expression. But what had caused it?

Even Leto’s whereabouts had been a mystery until Stannett had reported that the future streams showed him in the Convent, in Thorne’s sister’s pitiful cell.

And now Casimir had sent Julianna back.

He dropped to his knees before her and spread her legs. He rubbed the claw along the inside of her thigh. “Let me take the sting from your pride. Let me love you the way I used to.”

Julianna sighed. She even smiled. She put her hand on his bald head and stroked. When she began to sink in her nails and continued the exquisite pressure, she said, “You always knew exactly what I needed to ease my heart.”

With her nails embedded in his flesh, both hands now, he made liberal use of his claw.

When she began to scream, he knew she was content.

But as he sank into the completely delightful business of making Julianna bleed, he pondered a few interpretations of his own, about exactly what had happened to Casimir in Moscow. And Leto. And exactly what Grace had to do with all these strange occurrences.

*   *   *

Thorne wanted to fold on battle gear, but he was still caught in a disagreement with Marguerite. Brynna had folded home to get sober. He had hoped she would stay with Marguerite but as soon as he and his woman had started arguing, the Seer had taken off, asking only for an update later to ease her mind.

Marguerite had her hands planted on her hips. “I’m coming with,” she stated … again.

“No, you’re not. Death vampires, remember? And let me just add that one of those motherfuckers looked big, really big, so the answer is no, you’re not coming.”

She met his gaze, but her brown eyes flashed and he understood that look of determination. Over the centuries, he’d known a lot of warriors, both male and female, and this was one of the many things that made no difference when it came to gender: pure stubbornness. Marguerite would have her way and she would go to the grave before she gave in.

He released a heavy sigh.

“This will be dangerous, Marguerite. I’ve never encountered shifting mist before—and exactly how well do you think I’ll be able to do my job if I’m worried about your safety?”

She blinked a couple of times, and some of her belligerence dissipated. “I understand your dilemma,” she said, “I really do, but I’m not just being capricious here. I’d prefer not to go. But I can sense that I need to be there.”

Oh, great. She’d just given him the one reason that would force him to acquiesce. He hated this. And the thought that she could either be wounded or die made him jumpy as hell.

Okay, he did not have time to argue, and given her level of power he was obligated to respect her instincts. However, the thought that at any given time she’d be within a few yards of extremely powerful death vampires put a chunk of ice in his chest.

But he went with his gut. “You’ve seen the vision, you’ve seen where the action will be. If you can get to your old cell and stay there, with Grace, that would be best—that’s where the Fourth ascender will be and he’s not a fighter. If you can’t, then place yourself in any of the outlying regions: the chapel, the sanctuary, the cellars, the dining hall. The shifting mist wasn’t in any of those locations.”

She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. “Understood.”

It was so the right word for her to speak that he almost smiled. Instead, he murmured, “Thank you.”

He waved his hand in a quick flash and folded on flight battle gear. Another wave and he folded his weapons harness on, a snug fit molded to his chest. He secured his
cadroen
then checked his daggers.

He brought his warrior phone from his Sedona house and thumbed.

“Jeannie, here, how may I help?”

He started in. “This is an emergency, Jeannie. I have a handful of minutes to orchestrate a protective operation within the Creator’s Convent in Prescott Two. As quickly as possible, please fold Warriors Luken, Santiago, and Zacharius to Sister Quena’s administrative office. Contact Colonel Seriffe and have him send squadrons to each of the Borderlands to replace these warriors until further notice.”

“Very good.”

Pause. He knew the question without needing her to voice it. “And please let Endelle know that I will be in contact with her during the next twenty-four hours and that Warrior Leto will be with me.”

“Leto? I mean, yes, of course, I’ll let her know. Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll be calling for cleanup, but we’re dealing with a special kind of mist in this situation. Just stay tight.”

“Got it. I’ll get the boys now.”

He thumbed his phone. He trusted Jeannie. She’d served as a liaison among all the warriors for centuries. She had exceptional telepathic abilities, which had been her primary tool for transmitting critical messages among the warriors prior to the twentieth century. However, she was a modern woman now and infinitely preferred the phone, the grid, and everything else electronic. If this job didn’t get done, it wouldn’t be her fault.

He slid his phone into the narrow slit at the waistband of his kilt and turned in a circle, surprised that Marguerite had left the room. “We need to go,” he called out.

She folded in front of him. She now wore a flight suit in a deep red, almost burgundy color. “Where did you get that?”

“I contacted Brynna”—she tapped her head—“and she just sent it over. It bags a little around the ankles because the woman’s an Amazon, but otherwise, I’m good.”

He could see that she was.

“Let’s go.” He put a hand on Marguerite’s shoulder and thought the thought. The trip through nether-space, an entire dimension, took a little longer, an extended blinking-out then sudden awareness as his feet touched down and he released her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sister Quena glared at Thorne then Marguerite. But when she caught sight of the latter in a flight suit, her expression turned to a sneer.

How had Marguerite tolerated this woman’s domination for all those decades?

Before Sister Quena could begin her tirade, however, he said, “Your Convent will be under death vampire attack in approximately four minutes. If you have a lockdown drill, implement it now, or many of your devotiates will die tonight. Your choice, Madame High Administrator.”

Whatever else the woman might be, she was a ruler first.

She reached beneath her desk and clearly pressed a button because a split second later, bells rang shrilly and at sharp intervals, echoing from one end of the long building to the other. Beyond the door to her office, he could hear soft-padded running—but not a single spoken word or cry of alarm.

He glanced at Marguerite. She sent,
We had regular drills. No one will be the wiser as to what’s really happening. Everyone will obey.

He nodded. He despised the methods used to exact this kind of discipline, but in a moment like this one, he valued the result because lives would be spared.

The air shimmered and by long habit, even though he knew who was coming, he stepped away from Marguerite and folded his sword into his hand. He crouched.

Luken arrived first, sweating, blood-spattered. Bits of black feathers stuck to his arms. “Thorne,” he murmured. His light blue eyes had a haunted look.
We need you,
came rushing into Thorne’s head, followed by,
Sorry, boss. We’re good.
He nodded several times, but he flashed his sword into his hand as well. “We under attack?”

“Yes. I’ve summoned Santiago and Zach.”

“They’re feuding.”

“I know.”

Nothing more was said.

Sister Quena stood tall and straight-backed behind her desk, very serious. She had a clicker in her hand and pointed it in the direction of a bank of monitors on the west wall. She clicked one after the other. Security cameras popped online. There were at least a dozen of them.

Thorne shifted his attention and his gaze moved briskly from one to the next. All the areas of the Convent were clear.

The air shimmered once more, on opposite sides of the room. Thorne dropped into yet another protective crouch, stepping between the closest shimmer and Marguerite. Luken matched his movements.

Zach and Santiago.

Thorne felt a sudden rush of emotion. He’d missed his men. He’d hated being away from the action, away from his responsibilities. Christ, he’d only been gone a week or two. Why did it feel like a century?

He shook off the sensation.

The newcomers didn’t look at each other, but they were so fixed on Thorne that even if he hadn’t known there was a problem, he’d have smelled it a mile away. Santiago and Zach were good friends, close friends. So what the hell?

But he didn’t have time to ask the usual questions or even to knock their heads together.

He folded his sword away, drew the men in close, and explained that he’d have to do a quick, very painful mental download for any of this to work, that their friendly Fourth ascender had set up a shitfest on Leto’s behalf, that yes, Leto was in the Convent, and that no doubt Greaves had orchestrated this little party.

“Madre de Dios,”
Santiago murmured. “Leto is here?”

“Yes, but in the vision he didn’t look so good. I don’t think he can fight.”

“So he’s finally giving up his spy gig?”

“Looks like it.” Thorne glanced from one familiar face to the other. “You boys ready for this?”

Luken smiled. “Hell, yeah. Do it.”

Thorne started with Luken, putting his hands on his face and letting the images fly. Luken jerked and emitted a faint groan indicating the damn thing hurt, but he hung on. The download lasted fifteen seconds.