Burning Skies (9 page)

“Both Medichi and Thorne say I owe my life to you, but what I want to know is how the hell I’m ever going to repay you.”

“I was just glad to be of use,” she said, but her voice had dropped almost to a whisper. “Tell me you’re feeling better.”

“A thousand percent. You know Horace. Man of miracles.”

All Havily could do was nod. Her mind had filled once again with the horror of the night before and finding him in the Superstitions so … burned. She wanted to ask about his wings but was afraid to bring the subject up. Luken loved to fly. She couldn’t imagine him living out his life on Second without his wings.

“You know, Hav, Medichi and I have been talking about the vision you had and we can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on here. With you, I mean. All these years, we’ve all wondered why you needed a guardian to protect you.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I’m reminded of my failings daily.”

Luken smiled, a crooked curve of his lips. “Well, Endelle isn’t very subtle, is she?”

“As subtle as a rattlesnake …
coiling
and
striking.
”

Luken laughed then stopped. He drew in a ragged breath.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “Smoke got to me last night as well.” He nodded, cleared his throat, then continued. “The thing is, Medichi and I have been wondering if maybe what you experienced last night isn’t an onset of a new power or something. We all develop our powers at different paces. I had a bitch of a time with telepathy for the first two hundred years.

“Anyway, because you saved the life of a Warrior of the Blood”—here he jerked his thumb at Medichi then back at himself—“we’re concerned that your contribution will be noticed by, well, the enemy.”

Havily had for so long known what a disappointment she was to Madame Endelle that she couldn’t quite comprehend what these powerful warriors were saying to her. “Are you worried for my safety?” she asked, astonished.

Both men nodded.

“Exactly,” Medichi said.

“Really?” She just couldn’t fathom it.

Luken gave her hand a squeeze. “We want you set up with a telepathic link, and I think Medichi would be best to do it. That way, if you ever got in trouble, you could contact him right away and he could get to you.”

“A link? You mean like the one Endelle and Thorne share?”

“Yes,” Medichi said. “Just in case. What we know about Greaves is that he leaves no stone unturned. If he either fears you could threaten him or sees you as an asset, he’ll make an attempt to get control of you.”

“You’re serious,” she stated. She glanced at each of them in turn. She was so darn used to being the least significant person in her small group of powerful ascenders that she was having a hard time not laughing at their concern. However, they both appeared so grim, each brow furrowed, each pair of eyes staring hard at her, that a shiver traveled straight down her spine and agitated her wing-locks.

She drew in a quick breath. The decision wasn’t hard to make. These were warriors, and they’d been battling this particular enemy for centuries. If they said she was in danger, she was taking them at their word. “I’m in,” she said quietly. “But exactly how would it work?”

“When the link is set up,” Medichi explained, “all you have to do is concentrate on me then telepathically speak my name.”

You mean, like this?
she sent.

He nodded. “Except that we don’t have to be in the same room.” At that he smiled. “We know you have powerful shields, which is a good indication that you can permit someone inside your head and the other way around. Have you ever gone mind-diving?”

“You mean deep mind-engagement?”

“Yes,” Medichi said. “Moving within another person’s mind.”

“I attempted it once with unhappy results.” She thought of Eric. She had once dived inside his head, a really careless maneuver, and he’d doubled over in pain. The poor man had been left with a terrible headache for three days. That a power of hers had caused him so much suffering had crushed her to no end. This was one of the major differences between Militia Warriors and Warriors of the Blood: Most Militia Warriors lacked advanced powers. Havily shifted her gaze to Luken then back to Medichi. She was struck all over again by the sheer size of these men, the Warriors of the Blood. All of them had exceptional preternatural abilities, which, coupled with their physical strength, allowed each warrior to battle a number of death vampires at any given time. They were Second Earth’s elite fighting unit. There were a total of only seven known warriors of this stature in the world, eight including Marcus.

“I knew it,” Medichi cried. “You’re untapped. I’ve been thinking it for a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have major powers that haven’t emerged yet. It sure as hell would explain what happened four months ago.”

She wished more than anything that he hadn’t brought the subject up. She felt the blush begin and was completely incapable of stopping it. He referred, of course, to Warrior Marcus and what all the warriors knew to be the onset of the
breh-hedden
between them.

What they couldn’t know was that in some inexplicable way, she had just had sex with Marcus this very morning.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No. No, of course not. It’s just that … I’ve had visions of him, as well.” Once again she was overwhelmed with the probability that they weren’t visions but actual experiences.

Oh. God.

Which would mean, of course, that she’d been having sex with him for four months now!

Oh, dear God.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed all those unsettling thoughts out of her head. When she opened her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and turned to Medichi. She took a deep breath, “If the link involves mind-engagement, I think I’d be fine.”

Medichi frowned slightly. “I want to assure you, Hav, that this is a fairly superficial level of mind-engagement. Nothing deep. One level below telepathy. I won’t be able to see your memories or anything like that, which can occur with deeper levels of mind-diving.”

For a brief moment she felt really uncomfortable with the arrangement. She couldn’t explain why, exactly, but the thought of allowing this kind of link with Medichi felt as though she was being unfaithful to Marcus. Which was utterly and completely ridiculous. So ridiculous in fact that she nodded in a swift dip of her chin and said, “Let’s do it. You’ve convinced me. What do you need me to do?”

Medichi moved to stand in front of her then put his hand on her forehead. “Just relax.”

It wasn’t easy to be close to so much lean muscled warrior. Medichi was the tallest of the brothers and very handsome in his Italian way. He had high strong cheekbones, dark brown eyes, and long straight black hair. She forced her shoulders to settle down and worked to unknot her stomach. Finally she gave up and closed her eyes.

“You’re doing fine.”

At first his hand just felt warm, but a moment later she felt his mind slide against hers then dip inside. A tingling followed, along with something that felt like a solid clamp on her brain, which made her smile.

Do you feel that?
he sent.

She opened her eyes. She grinned. “It’s the oddest sensation.”

He nodded. “I’m going to fold to the Cave then reach out to you, as a test. That will put a dimension between us. We’ll see how well this works.”

“Okay. Good. Do it.”

He smiled at her first. “You know, that’s what I like best about you. You’re so game.” He lifted his hand and was gone.

She shifted her gaze to Luken. “It really is weird.” She tilted her head sideways. “It’s like that feeling when you’ve gone swimming and water ends up in your ears and won’t come out. I want to shake my head.”

Luken just looked at her, his expression warm, affectionate.

Havily. You there?

She heard Medichi as plain as day. “Yes,” she said aloud, then laughed at her stupidity.
I mean, yes,
she sent mind-to-mind
. I said it aloud as soon as I heard you … in my head, I mean.

Yep, you’ve got powers. And I’m not hurting you?

Not even a little.

A moment later he materialized in front of her, smiling.

“How do I call you?” she asked. “I mean how did you reach out to me? Does this mean you can hear my thoughts?”

“Only if you direct them at me. It’s a link. I’m not in your head. It’s telepathic. Think of it as long-distance telepathy.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense. All I know is that I’d hate to subject you to the ongoing chaos of my thoughts. Sometimes it’s like a lettuce spinner in there.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. The link is nothing like that.” He grew sober for a moment, his expression inscrutable. He then cleared his throat. He glanced at Luken. Havily’s gaze followed. The warrior’s eyes were closed.

“He must be exhausted,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Medichi said, his voice low as well. “I guess I’d better hunt down my bed. I’ll be battling by eight.” He turned to her. “I’m always here for you, Hav, you know that, right?”

She nodded. “You’re the best, Antony.”

*   *   *

Eldon Crace, High Administrator of Chicago Two, minion to his deity, Commander Darian Greaves, had muscles on his muscles now. Oh … yeah.

And, shit yes, sweat poured off him in streams, but not because of fear like it used to. Now he sweat because he pumped iron several hours a day and because he’d built himself a goddamn righteous forge, the old-fashioned kind, deep in the heart of Greaves’s compound. He never wore a shirt, just a black leather kilt and warrior battle sandals.

Decades ago, before his ascension to Second Earth, he had worked for a smithy in rural Indiana. He had always enjoyed the nature of the work, taking metal, heating it up until it glowed red, then pounding it into whatever shape he wanted. The metaphor pleased him immensely.

Horseshoes then.

Manacles now.

A few months ago, shortly after he’d been introduced to the exquisite properties of dying blood, he’d constructed the forge deep within the Commander’s compound, well into the belly of the earth, on the lowest level not far from the vast room used to test all manner of weaponry, including incendiary bombs.

He had labored hard over the forge. The ventilation alone had been one bitch of a challenge. Because the compound existed beneath the Commander’s famous peach orchard, the ducting had to be routed a good mile from his current position.

But he’d gotten it done and now he had a proper workstation.

Sometimes life’s simplest pleasures were the best.

He could think in the space he’d created for himself. Right now he pounded the hell out of a strip of glowing red metal the old-fashioned way, on an anvil, beating it so that it would fit the small wrist of a woman. Yes, his newly emerging death vampire nature had strong appetites and by God he indulged them.

For one thing, he really liked keeping his blood donors close at hand.

He glanced to his right, and desire flowed down his chest and into his abdomen, then low into his groin. A mortal woman hung from her manacled wrists, her dark eyes blank now from her new reality, her body a sagging weight barely supported by watery knees. He liked his donors weakened through the trauma and sheer fatigue of hanging from manacles. He liked his women worn out when he was ready to take what he’d earned. He also liked them draped in white gauze, a sacrificial symbol that pleased his vampire soul.

He laid a message over the mortal’s mind:
Your life gives me life and for that you are blessed.

He enjoyed delivering false hope. Her gaze flickered toward him, despair giving way to possibilities. But his sudden burst of laughter drew the blank stare once more as she looked away, her body sagging a little more.

She would feed not only him this night but also several of his personal attendants, those death vampires he’d recruited to serve as his guards and general lackeys.

He often did the hunting for his blood donors by himself, slipping quickly down to Mortal Earth before Central’s grids could happen upon his powerful signature. Other times, he would take his squad with him. He had sufficient advanced power to fold them straight to Mortal Earth, which would keep them off Endelle’s Central grid for a good long while.

He knew how the grids worked. They scanned back and forth looking for the signature of the death vampire, but Metro Phoenix took in a vast section of real estate and so far, in the past four months, he and his squad hadn’t been caught once.

God, he loved his life, a new life, the life his master had given him when he’d insisted that Crace drink a small goblet of dying blood. The thought of that first experience still aroused him, every damn time.

But it was the months that followed that had fulfilled him, the increasing physical strength, the clarity of mind, of purpose, the incremental bursts of expanding power.