Obsidian Flame (30 page)

After a moment, he met her gaze and sent,
Are you all right?

Again, she nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m very much at peace. This is my path.” She put her fist against her chest.

Thorne cursed under his breath. Goddamn the Convent. That bitch, Sister Quena, would have taught
submission
above all things, but it was just so that she could wield her spiritual hammer over the devotiates.

You have choices here, Grace
.

But at that, she lifted her chin a little more. “I know the difference between when to fight and when to relinquish control. I do know the difference.”

He released her and took a step back. Her voice held resonance, even vehemence. Did he really know his sister? But then for the past hundred years he’d only seen her, only related to her, in the Convent setting. Now here she was, staring him down. “Fine,” he said at last. “Understood.”

Grace straightened her shoulders. “There’s one more thing you should know.”

He inclined his head but all he could think was,
Oh, God, what now?

Grace took a deep breath, which lifted his blood pressure another notch. “It would seem I’m … obsidian flame, the blue variety, though I don’t know yet what that means.”

Thorne blinked. He couldn’t have heard her right. Grace was the third member of the obsidian flame triad? How was this possible? He glanced at Marguerite, but she inclined her head.

Leto turned in Grace’s direction and tried to rise up on his elbows, but failed. When he landed against the pillow, he said, “You’re … obsidian flame?”

“I am. And the power I possess, which is what brought you out of Moscow Two, seems to come from the earth. I’m not sure of the implications.” Here she glanced at Marguerite, then back to Leto. “In fact, I have no idea what this is or what it will mean for the future.” She shifted her gaze back to Thorne. “Casimir made it clear that Greaves will want to destroy obsidian flame above all things. Both of you need to be prepared for that.”

“Grace,” Thorne whispered. He could sense it was true but he felt suddenly very sad. “I would not have wished this on you.”

Grace tilted her head. “But it is on me and I’m welcoming this new power. I don’t fear it. I have been praying for a very long time to be of use to my world, and now perhaps I can be. Do not pity me. There is nothing here to feel bad about.”

All Thorne could do was nod several times in a row. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He was way too angry about everything right now. That his beloved sister had essentially just been dragged into the front lines of the war started splitting something inside him very wide. The only thing that held him together was the fact that she seemed to
desire
what had come upon her.

Fine.

What-the-fuck-ever.

One last glance at Leto. “I’ll bring Endelle by tomorrow. You’d better still be alive.”

Another faint smile touched Leto’s lips.
You know,
he sent,
you look like you could chew nails right now. Or spit fire.

A familiar, leading comment.

In former centuries, Leto would have offered a remark like that, Thorne would have responded, then Leto would have perhaps asked a pointed question and drawn him out, part of all that
mentor
bullshit.

But those were former times and though Thorne might have at one time sought counsel from Leto it was not something he could do now. And it wasn’t just that a hundred years had passed with Leto serving the monster of Second Earth. No, something was changing within Thorne’s heart. Right now the only counsel he trusted was his own.

He turned to Marguerite and held out his hand. She was still at the foot of the bed. She stared at his hand and lifted a brow.

“Are you gonna give me trouble, too?” he asked.

“Hell, yes,” she responded, but she rounded the bed and put her palm in his.

Thorne turned away from Leto’s bed and shifted to put his arm around Marguerite’s waist as together they crossed the room.

He had to let the situation go. Grace was right: There were times you just had to relinquish control. That Grace was now linked with Leto made this one of those times. This was her path, not his. His path, on the other hand, was running
her
thumb up and down his palm and working him up. Her rose scent was increasing, too, which meant she had something very specific on her mind. Given all that had happened, and all that he had just learned, the idea of taking Marguerite to bed really appealed to him.

When he reached the doorway where Diallo waited, the leader of the rogue colony turned into the foyer, let them walk past, then closed the door to the infirmary behind them.

Thorne was grateful. The last thing he needed to see or hear was his sister offering up her blood to Leto. He shuddered at the thought of it.

“Thank you for returning to speak with me,” Thorne said.

“Of course. You would not have summoned me for a trifling reason and I promise you, Warrior Thorne, I will always do my best to come when called. That is my promise to you.”

His words held a kind of weight that Thorne didn’t quite get. But it was clear that Diallo trusted him, which was a good thing.

In short order, Thorne explained the events of the last few hours. He spoke of the battle, the shifting mist, the involvement of a Fourth ascender, and Brynna’s role in helping Marguerite to achieve pure vision.

Despite the fact that he left out the very significant point about Marguerite coming fully into her obsidian power, Diallo turned toward her then met and held her gaze. “Your power has expanded significantly since I last saw you. I can sense it in you.”

“Yes, my obsidian flame power.”

“You are necessary, Seer Marguerite, in ways you do not understand yet, but I don’t believe it is your ability to reach pure vision that Second Earth needs from you.”

“How strange that you would say that when all my life I’ve been dogged for my Seer skills.”

“Which means no one has seen your true gift.”

“Which is?”

But Diallo smiled. “Your temper, of course.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Diallo shook his head. “One day, you’ll understand.” He turned toward Thorne. “In the meantime, I can’t stay here for very long.” He tapped his forehead. “I have a terrible gnat in here, in the form of one of the council’s elders. We were having a wonderful argument when I got your summons and the dear man wants me back.” He laughed as he spoke, a good-humored way to tell Thorne to get on with things.

“Unless you are opposed to the idea, I want to bring Endelle here in the morning, and I’d like for you to be here. She will need to speak with Leto, to figure out how to protect him, and he’s ready to talk. But she also needs to be made aware of these hidden colonies.” So far, Thorne knew of two others beyond the Seattle Colony, one outside of Portland and of course one in Florida, near Lake City.

Diallo nodded. “We’ve been debating the situation all night. Ultimately, however, we know that our choices became exceedingly limited the moment those death vampires breached our mist.”

Thorne couldn’t agree more. “Would it be better if I brought Endelle to you now?”

But Diallo placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt a sudden familiar soothing flow of warmth. Alison had the same ability, to give ease and comfort with a touch. “I would advise both you and Marguerite to take your rest now. I’ve strengthened my mist against intruders—although if your Jeannie at Central needs to fold anyone to this location, it won’t be a problem, your discretion of course. And if even one death vampire succeeds in getting through our mist again, alarms will sound this time and give you warning.

“Please, make use of my home. I will meet you there tomorrow. How does ten sound?”

“Good. That’s good.”

Diallo glanced in the direction of the door to Leto’s current room. “If you like, we can create a second protective mist around the infirmary, if that would ease your mind about your brother warrior and about your sister.”

“Absolutely.” Thorne released a very deep sigh. He was more worried about the situation than even he realized.

Diallo extended his hand toward the front door. “If you’ll come outside with me, I’ll show you the mist technique in case you ever need to use it. I believe both your powers are strong enough to make use of it at will.”

“Is it that simple?”

Diallo smiled. “Yes, I believe it is.”

Thorne brought Marguerite forward to precede him from the building. Once outside, he turned toward the smallish cabin-like structure. Diallo stood next to Marguerite and lifted his foot for both of them to see.

His rope sandal disappeared, folded somewhere.

Diallo then placed his foot in the dirt. “The trick to this kind of mist is a connection to the earth. And the Pacific Northwest is such a damp part of the world that the trees often have moss growing on their northern faces. Picture any tree in the vicinity then fold some of that moss into your hand. You won’t need much.”

Thorne focused on a tree, and with a little mental scraping took moss from near the base and folded it into his hand. He held the moss palm-up. Marguerite did the same.

“Marguerite, touch my arm. Thorne, touch her arm. We’ll form a chain and you’ll be able to feel and resonate with a like vibration.”

Diallo was a man of action and he simply began the process. Thorne had created mist before, thousands of times, but he had no idea whether Marguerite had or not.

But as the vibration passed through her to Thorne, he watched her smile as she held up her arm, the moss pinched between her fingers. All three of them began sending the lace-like filaments, only now shrouded with a green tinge of moss, toward the dwelling until it was completely covered. Each of their mists, however, had a different quality, and the end result, though powerful, wasn’t exactly elegant.

Diallo laughed. “I’m not sure if I love it or hate it.”

Marguerite laughed as well.

Thorne just shook his head. He could feel the power of the mist and knew in his heart of hearts that if Grace and Leto weren’t safe beneath this protective shroud, they wouldn’t be safe anywhere.

He turned and offered his hand to Diallo. “Thank you for the mist. I’ll sleep easier tonight. And thank you for the lesson. I have no doubt I’ll be making use of this technique in the future.”

“You can retrieve this moss from any point in the world with just a thought. And I have found that for some reason the moss from these fir trees works best, but you might want to conduct your own experiments.”

Thorne smiled. “Hard to find this quality of moss in the desert.”

Diallo laughed. “I suppose not. Well, I must away. Good night.” He bowed slightly, lifted his right arm, and vanished.

Thorne suggested that he fold Marguerite to Diallo’s courtyard. She agreed, sliding her arm around his waist.

He felt the vibration and the slight blanking-out, but as he touched down in Diallo’s living room, he had a thought, a rather perfect one that he knew would please Marguerite. He glanced down at his battle-weary kilt and the blood spatters on his arms and legs.

Yeah, he needed to get cleaned up but there was something else as well, another powerful need that had to be tended before he could relax.

He squeezed her waist and said, “I forgot something, but I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

Since she looked ready to argue with him, he chucked her chin, lifted his arm, and took off.

*   *   *

Grace stared into the most beautiful blue eyes that had ever existed in the entire course of mankind, clear and piercing, even though in this moment Leto was doused with pain. His lips were parted. “I don’t want this for you.”

She nodded. “Leto, it’s all right.” She glanced down the length of the bed. He filled it top-to-bottom. Even though from the time she could remember, Thorne had been warrior-sized and she was used to all the height and breadth, she often marveled at just how big these men were. “Maybe I could lie down next to you while we do this?”

“That would be … nice.”

With great effort, he pushed himself to the opposite side of the bed. He was beneath a sheet and a soft wool blanket. He lifted the blanket and she crept beneath so that his very naked body was separated from hers only by the sheet. And her gown.

He pulled the blanket over her.

“Oh,” she whispered, “it’s so warm. I’m never this warm, at least not in winter or early spring. Or the fall for that matter. Summer was always nice, though.”

“That building … was damn cold. Like Moscow Two.”

She felt herself relax as she hadn’t relaxed in a long time, despite all that had just happened. He slipped his arm around her so that she settled her head on his shoulder, but she drew back so that she could look at him. She also needed the angle to present her wrist again, but he pushed it away and turned into her, shifting to look at her neck.

When she realized what he wanted, that he wanted her primary vein, her whole body rolled and arched, which in turn brought a soft hiss from between his lips as his forest scent suddenly drenched the space. Oh, God, this couldn’t be happening to her, that all her poetry was descending on her like a warm wave of the most erotic water, flowing over her, enticing her to do the forbidden.