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“Yes. Yes,” Thorne murmured. “Alison, as well.” Yes, Alison. She was a healer of the mind.
Jean-Pierre clutched Fiona to his chest. He rocked her. He murmured softly in her ear, words in his birth language that soothed his mind but probably did little to help her. “I cannot lose you, Fiona. You must fight.”
Horace folded into the room a moment later. Thorne gave up his place to the healer. He asked what happened.
Jean-Pierre shook his head. “I am not certain. Madame Endelle was trying to read her powers, but she must have gone deep. Now you see the state Her Supremeness is in. I do not know if she is in some danger as well.”
Horace glanced behind him, in the direction of the desk, then he smiled. “Our leader is experiencing euphoria. That’s all. Exultation.”
“Exultation? What the f**k do you mean by that?”
Endelle jumped off her desk and crashed her hand on Thorne’s shoulder. Thorne buckled to the floor. “What the f**k?” he cried.
Jean-Pierre had never seen Endelle so wild-eyed. For a moment, even the striation in her brown eyes had blended to a smooth beautiful brown. She looked so young.
She shook her finger at Fiona. Her hand trembled, her arm, her body. “She … she is something I have never seen in my entire life. She was never supposed to exist. She has come and not just her, but two more. Oh, God, two more because the myth says they come in threes, a triad of power.”
She started tearing around the room again, jumping, levitating, squealing.
“You see?” Horace said. “Exultation.”
“Do you mean, she is happy?”
“And excited about possibilities.” Horace sat back on his heels and focused on Fiona. “You do not need to worry, Jean-Pierre. Physically, she is perfectly fine. If you had that much power in your head”—he jerked his thumb in Endelle’s direction—“you might need a few minutes to recover as well.”
Jean-Pierre released a quavering sigh. “Good. That is good. Thorne has called for Alison.”
Horace nodded. “She is what is needed here.”
Jean-Pierre met his gaze. “Thank you, my friend.” Horace served the Warriors of the Blood every night. He and his team healed their physical injuries in the field, sort of a preternatural medic.
Horace settled a hand on Jean-Pierre’s shoulder. “Be well.” He rose to his feet, exchanged a few words with Thorne, lifted his arm, and vanished.
A minute later Alison arrived. She stood frozen for a moment at the sight of Endelle, doing a happy dance on her enormous marble desk.
But the moment her gaze shifted to Jean-Pierre and Fiona, Alison dropped down beside Fiona. “What happened and why does Endelle look like she’s been mainlining crack?”
“We are not sure. She was testing Fiona for her emerging powers and this was the result. Fiona started screaming, then stopped for a time, then screamed again, terrible cries of agony. Finally, she crumpled.”
Alison put her hand on Fiona’s forehead. Even at that distance, Jean-Pierre could feel the warm energy flowing. He could breathe once more.
Time passed. Despite Alison’s healing efforts, to the point that her forehead grew damp and she trembled, Fiona did not begin to return to herself for several more minutes.
By then, Endelle sat on the edge of her desk, her bristly skirt a lumpy line at the hem, her gaze fixed on Fiona.
“Tell her to wake up. Now.”
“Endelle,” Thorne barked. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“You don’t understand, but you’ll know in a few minutes. Dammit, you’ll all know.” She clapped her hands together and cried, “Hah! We have something now. Goddammit!”
Then she laughed.
Maybe it was the laughter, but at that moment, Fiona’s eyes fluttered and finally opened. She met Jean-Pierre’s gaze, but there was no light in her eyes, as though she were turned inside herself. She did, however, struggle out of his arms and sit up, her hands limp in her lap, her legs straight out in front of her.
Alison put her hand on Fiona’s back and drew close. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Weird. At least I’m not in pain anymore.” She turned her head to look at Alison then up at Endelle.
Jean-Pierre shifted so that he could see Fiona’s face. She was very pale.
“Damn that hurt, Endelle.”
“Well,” Endelle mused. “Ascension ain’t for sissies.”
“No, it’s not,” Fiona said. Then she started to smile, a very slow curve of her lips, wider and wider until she grinned and her eyes took on a light he had never seen before.
Endelle nodded.
Fiona nodded back.
What had the women discovered? What had made Fiona scream in such pain? And why was she smiling now?
“What is it, chérie? What did you see?”
“A fountain of gold light. No, a flame of gold light, a shimmering light, unearthly, supported by black flames. Yes, that’s what I saw. Black flames, dark, so very dark, but powerful. So much power. I can’t explain it.”
Thorne joined Endelle by the desk. “But what does it mean?”
Endelle hopped off her desk and moved to stand in front of Fiona. She extended her hand down and Fiona took it. Endelle lifted her to her feet. Both Jean-Pierre and Alison rose with her.
She put her hands on Fiona’s cheeks again. Jean-Pierre wanted to protest, but something in Endelle’s demeanor stopped him.
“I can’t believe it,” Endelle said. “I just can’t believe it.” She stared into Fiona’s eyes.
Then the most impossible thing of all happened: Tears trailed down Endelle’s face. She pulled Fiona into her arms and held her and wept.
Jean-Pierre exchanged a glance with first Alison then Thorne but they each shrugged, uncertain why Endelle was so overcome, when she was never overcome.
Finally, Endelle released Fiona, folded a thick wad of tissues into her hand, then blew her nose like an elephant trumpeting.
“Chérie?”
Fiona turned to him, her expression beatific. Tears also shimmered in her eyes, but hung suspended as though unwilling to fall and destroy what he could see was her happiness. Then she, too, did the unexpected. She moved into him and as he opened his arms wide, she pressed herself against his chest, slid her arms around his waist, and held him.
She had never done this before.
If ever a moment had been designed to feel like heaven, this was the moment. He engulfed her in his arms and embraced her. Whatever had happened, something essential within his woman had changed. He could feel it.
