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And she had the power to set anything in motion she wanted to.
She felt the air stir beside her, but she already knew the signature.
“Hello, Shorty.”
“Good morning, Endelle.”
She was both surprised and not when he slipped his hand into hers. She felt his Sixth power flow through her, and her chin came up. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. A moment later, she felt … comforted.
In any other circumstance, she would have made a joke, teased him about his height, how his hand was actually smaller than hers—that sort of absurd hilarity.
But it would take some time for her sense of humor to return.
Instead, she spoke of recent events. “Greaves has been running his extremely well-edited footage of the battle, calling it an enormous victory for the ALA. Of course none of those clips shows Medichi and Parisa’s affect on the battle.”
“Did you expect something different?”
“I never believed it would come to this. I thought I had time to keep building and working. I never thought he would attack.”
James didn’t say anything, just stood beside her staring out at the quiet battlefield. But his comforting stream of power continued to pulse through her hand and up her arm.
As she stared out at empty airspace to the rim opposite, nothing looked changed. Of course, the environmental teams had already been through repairing horticultural battle damage. Second Earth’s version of tree-huggers. Whatever.
“He attacked because of the future streams,” James said. “You need better Seer information.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You must make a change. You know what I’m referring to.”
“It will break Thorne’s heart.”
“Yes, it will.”
Endelle had been avoiding this moment for over a century, from the time she’d first seen Thorne’s woman hidden deep within his mind. She hadn’t meant to invade such a private space, but the memory had glowed bright, the way the ribbons of the future streams were said to glow.
So she had pushed her way into the memory and seen what she was never meant to see.
Thorne’s woman was a Seer with third, perhaps even fourth dimension capacity, well beyond anything she had ever known before, and Thorne had been protecting her from Second Earth involvement all this time.
But dear God, what would it do to Thorne if she used his woman as a pawn in this terrible game of war?
***
Greaves sat down in a chair covered in crushed purple velvet. He repressed a shudder. The vampire opposite him had the fashion and decorating taste of a pimp from a few decades past. Greaves deeply disliked him, the way he lounged so casually, several lines of cocaine splayed out in precise order on a glass coffee table in front of him. All he needed was two half-naked women draped over his shoulders to complete the absurd portrait.
“You’ve always hated my hedonistic inclinations,” Casimir said. He smiled. He had large, beautiful teeth, the body of a god, the appetites of Lucifer. His booted foot swung up and back. His snug white pants concealed none of his considerable assets. If Greaves had been otherwise inclined, he would have thought Casimir was trying to seduce him.
“Not your hedonism. You of all men should know that I share your proclivities.” He waved a hand around the room. “But I do find your outward expression quite ridiculous.”
The vampire leaned his shoulders more deeply into the black leather of the couch. “What do you want, Darian? I take it this isn’t a social call … unless you want it to be.”
Greaves ignored the invitation. He swung many ways but he drew the line at sex with the Prince of Darkness. Even a sociopath had his standards.
He sighed.
The moment had come.
He had been dreading this interview for a good number of centuries. He had believed he would never be required to make the request because his plans had been going so very well. But then, he had hoped against hope that the Upper Dimension would not become involved, that his seizure of smaller realms would have lulled it into believing that his ambitions were negligible—until too late, of course.
However, now that three of the Warriors of the Blood had completed the breh-hedden and increased their powers exponentially because of the women involved, the handwriting had simply appeared on the wall in a way he could no longer ignore. If he’d had any doubts on that score, they were settled by the fact that the most recent bonding had resulted in the loss of his voyeur-link with Parisa. Then there were the wings the happy pair shared. Not to split metaphors too heavily, but the use of royle wings had been the nail in his coffin.
God, what a show that had been, and such a peaceful sensation. Talk about spectacle. It really was too bad that he hadn’t been able to use the footage in his propaganda campaigns, but the energy the couple used showed up on film only as strange flashes of light.
It had been no accident that his minions had failed to kill them all. Forces were at work, some based in destiny and accompanying misfortune, some in the fulfillment of myth, some by the hand of an Upper ascender. It was because of the latter that he’d orchestrated this unfortunate meeting.
He had no choice now but to speak words that brought bile rising from his stomach. “It would seem I need your help.”
The large white teeth made another appearance. “The cost will be high.”
He nodded. “Naturally.”
Casimir glanced at his well-manicured nails, buffed to a gleam. “I saw your mother recently in one of my visits home.” Casimir was a Fourth ascender.
“And how fares the great philosopher of Fourth Earth?”
“Beatrice is lovely as always. She has not aged a day.” He laughed at his little immortal joke. “She is as sanctimonious as ever, though, quite judgmental—I despise her for that—but beautiful. You have her eyes, you know. Sometimes it is most unsettling to see you, my friend, and at the same moment to recognize Beatrice’s large round eyes. Yes, very unsettling.”
“Is she still building things?” Beatrice had always had a passion for architecture.
He waved a hand, a sensual, delicate motion. “Her latest project is some sort of rehabilitation center surrounded by a lake. The lake is supposed to have healing properties, and the inmates are baptized in it. Can you imagine? I’ve dubbed it the lake of fire.” He chuckled, but the sound had resonance and floated around the room until it settled on Greaves’s shoulders, a heavy weight.
The time to negotiate had begun. “So tell me your price.”
