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Another pissing contest. Jean-Pierre stared at the Militia Warrior Section Leader. Although Jean-Pierre felt a bristling down his back, what Gideon said made sense. There would be no reason for him not to observe at a distance.
“As you wish.” He could always engage the battle when he was needed.
He slipped into the thick vegetation. Gideon lifted his left arm high, then dropped his arm, the signal for forward movement.
The Militia Warriors blurred their speed as they shot forward, moving with stealth, low to the ground, swords ready.
Jean-Pierre nodded his approval.
When the last of the warriors faded into the jungle, he looked around and found high ground back and to his right. He moved to the new location in a split second, found a perch in a tree, and extended his vision farther. He watched each squad maneuver around a death vampire, separating the overly confident pretty-boys from one another.
Very intelligent. Gideon was right. His men were extremely well trained.
But when he felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise, he instinctively knew he was not alone. Slowly, he looked around, scanning the vegetation for any sign of movement. He extended his hearing; nothing returned, yet the uneasy sensation remained.
Then he understood. The Upper ascender. A bare split second later he took the invisible punch to his chin, which threw him backward off the branch. His sword slipped from his hand, spinning through the foliage. He hit the ground on his back.
He rolled swiftly and heard a thump in the empty space he’d left behind. He leaped to his feet. He could feel the presence of the other but he saw nothing. Endelle had said this was the latest threat, that an Upper ascender had been causing all the inexplicable bruising and cuts among the warriors over the past five months.
And the monster was here.
Invisible.
“Show yourself.” He drew both his daggers, one in each hand. He took a hard kick to his left wrist. He heard the crack of bone breaking and his dagger flew.
Mon Dieu, he was in f**king trouble.
* * *
Fiona leaned over the grid as she listened to the battle, every muscle tense as though she had a part in the fighting as well.
She recognized Gideon’s voice through the transmitter on his weapons harness as he called out to his various squads. She heard the shouting, the grunting, the victorious screams, the clang and rasp of metal against metal as swords clashed.
But she did not hear Jean-Pierre.
She extended her telepathy the distance of two thousand miles and reached him. She heard his mind in her mind, Mon Dieu. He was in pain.
She rose upright. She pressed her newly discovered channeling ability, that part of her that was obsidian flame, and as she had experienced with Alison earlier and even Marguerite before that, she was just suddenly with him, next to him, her being pressed alongside his.
Jean-Pierre, she sent.
Fiona?
I’m here. You’re hurt.
Oui.
He moved. She could feel his body, feel him roll, feel the kick now to his sternum. He writhed in pain.
Then she heard the church bells. The Upper ascender is hurting you.
Yes. How can you tell?
I hear the church bells. Tell me what to do. What can I do?
My left wrist is broken.
I can have Bev fold you out of there.
No. Not yet. Fiona, think. Maybe if we worked together, we could wound him. He’s been hurting the Warriors of the Blood all these months.
She heard the church bells off to his right shoulder. Right shoulder, she sent.
He struck my right shoulder.
I think I’m tracking his location and intent. Wait for it.
The bells boomed. Big one coming … your left knee.
Aw, shit. Sheet.
Jean-Pierre, get ready to use your hand-blast, on my mark and in the direction I tell you, got it?
She could feel him breathing. Hard.
She waited. Tense.
Finally, she heard him. Ready.
The church bells sounded right behind his head. Behind your head, now!
She felt the blast leave his hand. She felt him flip over and sit up, his body contorted in pain. We hit the mark. I can see him, our Upper ascender. I hit both legs. His image is flickering. He is gone.
Did you kill him?
Non, pas du tout. But I hurt him. We hurt him. That was magnifique.
Jean-Pierre, I can feel that he is no longer there. How is that possible?
You have power, chérie. Much power. He gasped for breath.
What do you want me to do? Do you want Bev to get you out of there?
First, I must find my sword.
She felt him struggle to his feet, to walk, pushing through leaves and branches. I have got it. I am ready when Bev is ready, then have Seriffe let Gideon know.
Fiona remained next to Jean-Pierre. No way in hell would she leave him until she was assured Bev had folded him the hell out of there.
But as she waited beside him, she shifted her present gaze to Seriffe.
“What was that all about?” he asked. He looked stunned.
“You could tell something was going on?” But as she glanced around, she could see that everyone in the grid room—Bev, Seriffe, and five Militia Warriors—was staring at her.
“You have a gold aura and we can all see it. That whole time, whatever was going on, you were glowing.”
Fine. Whatever.
To Bev she said, “Get a fix on Jean-Pierre and bring him here now. He’ll need a healer. He has a broken wrist and maybe a dislocated knee.”
“You got it.” But her eyes were wide as she tapped on her computer.
Back to Seriffe. “Jean-Pierre needs you to let Gideon know that he’s wounded.”
He nodded briskly as he pressed the com attached to his left shoulder. He spoke a few quiet words then shifted to stare at Fiona, his gaze moving over her hair and her shoulders. He shook his head.
Fiona looked at her arm. Yep, she was glowing. Glancing back at Seriffe, she said, “So you know I’ve got this thing called obsidian flame, the gold variety as Endelle calls it.”
“I could see it working. What happened?”
She explained about extending her telepathy to Jean-Pierre because she could tell he was hurt. She spoke of Alison and Marguerite, of being able to feel their external sensations and of hearing the Upper ascender’s unique church bell sound. “It’s low, sonorous, really beautiful, but he was hurting Jean-Pierre.” She related the strikes against Jean-Pierre. “But we got him.”
“Got him?”
“Because of the sound of the bells, I was able to direct Jean-Pierre where to let loose with a hand-blast.”
“She is telling it exactly right.”
Fiona turned to find Jean-Pierre walking, no, limping into the grid room.
