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Fiona stepped away, shaking her head. The ruler of Second Earth was a conundrum in so many respects.
High Administrators began to move forward, creating an arc around her. Fiona remained close, but she noticed that Jean-Pierre, Santiago, and Zacharius all mounted their wings and took off to form a protective triangle around the crowd, hunting, as they were designed to do, for the sudden, unexpected presence of death vampires.
Of course, the frightened birds darted over the crowd, creating a lot of chaos. But the trainers were busy as well, drawing the swans and geese, one by one, under their control.
Fiona remained near Madame Endelle.
And she smiled.
* * *
Jean-Pierre hovered in the air to the north of the crowd, his wings moving slowly. He listed left then right, his gaze shifting back and forth over the crowd, then around him as he turned in a slow circle. His wings moved in concert with his thoughts, making infinitesimal adjustments to keep him thirty feet in the air and pivoting so that he could watch the crowd and scan the skies.
He slipped his warrior phone from his battle kilt and swiped his thumb over the front.
“Jeannie here. How can I help?”
“Jeannie, would you send Thorne to my position as soon as possible, when he has a break in the fighting?”
“You got it. Hey, I didn’t think Dark Spectacle would be over this early—and what are you doing near the palace?”
“Move the grid to the McDowells.”
He heard tapping, then, “Holy shit. It’s lit up with more power signatures than I’ve ever seen. What’s going on? Death vampires?”
Jean-Pierre explained in a few brief sentences. By the end, Jeannie whistled. “No shit. Wow. Okay, sounds like I have a few calls to make. I’ll let Thorne know. Seriffe covered three of the Borderlands with Militia Warriors. I’ll contact him as well, and get some warriors over there.”
“How are the Thunder God Warriors doing?”
“You know, I like that you’re using their nickname. But they’re doing great. They really are. No mortalities, and only one skin burn.”
“That is good, very good. Bon.” Except his stomach tightened at the thought of Militia Warriors battling the usual number of death vampires that entered the Trough at night, all during the night. And it was very early still, not even nine o’clock.
“I’ll give everyone a shout, update the brothers, and I’ll get Thorne to you ASAP.”
“Merci, Jeannie.”
He thought he heard her sigh, that soft feminine lilt. Women seemed to like his French accent. He smiled as he slid his phone back in his pocket.
A moment later, not even ten seconds, he felt a powerful vibration beneath him. He drew in his wings to close-mount, folded his sword into his hand, and aimed at a spot next to whatever entity was folding so close to the crowds.
Fortunately, it was Thorne.
Jean-Pierre touched down.
“Tell me everything. Holy f**k, how many people are here and why don’t the trainers have command of all the swans yet?” His gaze was fixed into the dark night sky. As if on cue, one out-of-control goose buzzed the crowd from the south heading straight in their direction.
A roll of cries came out of the crowd where the poor creature, wild-eyed, searched for a piece of normalcy. Jean-Pierre held his arm out in the shape of a crook, something he had seen the trainers do hundreds of times over the decades. For whatever reason, the goose dove toward him, flapping his arms wildly but settling his big body in that crook. He was a heavy, muscular bird and his heart beat like it would soon burst.
“What the f**k,” Thorne muttered.
“Ça va, ça va,” Jean-Pierre whispered. He stroked the bird’s chest. The goose let out one serious huff and settled down, breathing hard.
“What are you now, the bird-master?”
Jean-Pierre shrugged but smiled. “He has gone through a trauma. Most animals never glide through nether-space. Is not that so, mon petit?”
“Jesus,” Thorne muttered.
A moment later one of the trainers flew close, touched down, then called softly to the bird. The goose turned toward the trainer and dipped his neck.
The trainer very gently took the goose from Jean-Pierre’s arm. “Thank you, duhuro.”
Jean-Pierre almost opened his mouth to refute the ancient, extremely respectful form of address, but he bit his tongue then said, “Of course. They are very frightened right now.”
Thorne scowled. He had blood spatter across the bare portions of his chest and arms, as well as the black leather weapons harness. “What the hell kind of circus is this anyway? I guess you’d better tell me what happened.”
Jean-Pierre related the details, including the point at which Marguerite issued her warning about the need to keep Casimir alive.
Thorne’s eyes flared at the mention of Marguerite and his lips tightened into a grim line; beyond that he just listened. At the end, he glanced in Endelle’s direction.
Jean-Pierre also turned. Fiona stood well back from her. He didn’t like that she was in the shadows and suddenly the hairs on the nape of his neck stood up. “Shit,” he murmured.
He folded straight to her, but by then she was gone.
Endelle turned around. “What just happened?” She was scowling as well.
“I think Rith just took Fiona.”
“Aw, f**k,” Endelle muttered.
* * *
Fiona faced her enemy. She stood in a garden she knew very, very well, a place where she had lived for decades. She smelled garlic and turmeric, and her stomach turned.
Rith looked as he always did, fully in control.
“Did Greaves let you off your leash?”
“I have foreseen this, that you would come back to me, and we would begin again.” He gestured with his hand in the direction of the sky. “Look up?”
She knew what he wanted her to see, but she feared taking her eyes off him. She took several steps back and glanced in the direction of the sky. “Oh, my God,” she murmured.
Three layers of mist this time, the inside an exquisite shimmering gold.
“I had to do something to put everything back the way it was.”
She looked back at him and frowned slightly. “Greaves doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”
He shook his head, his straight black hair swaying against his ears and neck. “Greaves was finished with me. I was to be laid on the altar of his ambitions, so you mustn’t blame him for this. He didn’t know that I would be able to escape from Prague.”
“Then you weren’t at Dark Spectacle?”
