Obsidian Flame

He came shouting. He came and came as he imagined burying himself between Grace’s legs and drinking at the same time from her neck.



When he was done, he rolled off Julianna, who was gagging with all that he’d given her and struggling against the bindings.



When she could finally talk, she glared at him. “I might have enjoyed that if you’d let me participate. What is wrong with you? You’ve been in a weird mood since you returned from Moscow Two. What happened out there?”



“Do you want to go back to Greaves?” He released her from the restraints then stretched out on the bed next to her.



She sat up, wiping a hand over her mouth.



He couldn’t look at her. He just stared up at the mirrored ceiling. He had his arm thrown over his forehead. He closed his eyes.



She drew close and stroked his fingers very lightly. “I’ve grown fond of you,” she said, her voice small. “I … I thought you enjoyed my company.”



“Something’s happened, something completely beyond my control and I know I can’t give you any longer what you’ll need of me.”



“So … you’re dumping me after having stolen me away from my heart’s desire? You’re letting me go because of something mysterious that I’m guessing you won’t even tell me about?”



“It’s not personal, Ju-Ju. I’ve even had a few times with you in recent weeks that I thought maybe we were soul mates. We certainly are evenly matched in bed. It’s a fucked-up ascension thing. The problem is, I won’t treat you right during the next few days or weeks or however long it takes to resolve this situation and you need to go.”



But he felt the woman vibrating with rage next to him. He understood who she was, that she would find some way to punish him for being so summarily dumped, so he simply thought the thought and she was gone.



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.