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“Yes, of course I was there, looking for you, watching, waiting for my opportunity. And most fortunately, I got swept up in the mass fold to Scottsdale Two.”

“Who set the explosives then?”

Rith shrugged. “I don’t know, but Greaves has an entire army who serves him without question, just as I once did.”

He seemed strangely despondent.

“He held you captive, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not pleasant, is it, to live without freedom?”

“I never cared about freedom.”

She understood then. Whether or not Rith and Greaves were lovers, she was looking at a broken heart. The man he loved had betrayed him.

Of course, she might have felt a little more sympathy for him if he hadn’t been her jailer for over a hundred years. “Are you keeping a new set of blood slaves here?”

“I intend to keep only one.” His lips curved faintly. “I always admired you, Fiona. You outlived them all, but I also think you kept many of the women alive far beyond normal expectancy. Your compassion had a good effect. Yes, I confess that I admired and respected you.”

Fiona frowned. “So you’re not setting up another facility?”

“Of course not. There is no reason to now. I only did so to please Greaves. Actually, I have something different in mind for you and me. Because of your emerging powers, your dying blood will mean my salvation.”

“But … you don’t take dying blood.”

He sighed. His black eyes took on a distant expression. “My only hope for survival now is to become a death vampire, but I won’t drink just anyone’s blood. Yours is the blood I want. It will add to my powers considerably with each taking, and as I said before, I respect and admire you. Your blood is acceptable to me, and I know from past experience that you have the ability to thrive, even in captivity.

“I should also add that I understand the limitations of your obsidian abilities—that you can only channel power, not express it yourself. At least that is what I have observed.”

Fiona stared at a madman, one who had chosen her as the vessel of his transformation, and the ongoing nourishment by which he intended to grow strong enough to sustain his own life in the face of Greaves’s intention that he should die.

She was appalled and disgusted, but this was the least of her concerns. She could be properly outraged later. Right now, she had her own survival to consider.

“You do understand that I have only begun to explore my obsidian power.”

“Yes, of course. I’m counting on the breadth of that power to push me beyond even Greaves’s achievements.”

She took deep breaths and relaxed her shoulders. She knew that the three layers of mist would undoubtedly keep her from reaching out to anyone else for help. Her only hope of defeating the powerful vampire in front of her would have to come from within herself.

* * *

Jean-Pierre tried to follow Fiona’s golden trail only once. When he was kicked back to the same spot where she had dematerialized, he knew who the adversary was and he also knew that he needed help.

Endelle still levitated ten or so yards away, answering questions from her High Administrators.

Thorne materialized beside him. Jean-Pierre was so overwrought, he had his sword in hand ready to take his enemy’s head off and just barely kept himself from decapitating Thorne.

“What the f**k happened?” Thorne asked.

“Rith took her … again.”

Thorne drove a hand through his hair. “Aw, shit.”

But Jean-Pierre stared at him … hard. “I think I know what we can do, the way we can maneuver around Rith in this situation.”

“How?”

“We need your woman. We need Marguerite. She prevented a complete annihilation at the outdoor chapel in Prescott Two because she saw into the future streams. She warned Fiona about the explosion at the arena and the women have a strong connection. If she uses her Seer ability to search for Fiona, I think we might be able to find her.”

Thorne scowled and searched Jean-Pierre’s eyes. He glanced at Endelle, who was now arguing with one of her High Administrators. “What the hell is Endelle wearing? She’s about one fruit basket away from belonging in the Caribbean. Shit. Okay. I gotta take care of this … now. Shit.”

He whipped his warrior phone from the pocket of his kilt and thumbed the slick surface.

“Hey, Jeannie. Has Endelle asked for Marcus tonight?” He rolled his eyes. “That’s what I thought. You need to get him over here right away. Havily, too. This mess calls for administrators.” His gaze shifted to Endelle whose face was bright red as she told one of her High Administrators to take his goddam head out of his ass. He added, “Not profane Voodoo priestesses.”

He put his phone away then turned back to Jean-Pierre. “We have to get Endelle’s go-ahead. What we need to do will involve breaking a big law.”

A moment later Marcus and Havily arrived looking very tousled: hair not in the usual tidy order, clothes less than immaculate. Generally the couple could’ve come from the pages of GQ or Cosmo. Marcus thumbed a line of lipstick off Havily’s cheek then kissed her.

The scene was so tender, so intimate, that Jean-Pierre had to look away.

Thorne called them both over. “Did Jeannie give you the scoop?”

“The short version,” Marcus said. “Sorry. We were a little … tied up.”

Havily coughed behind her hand, but Jean-Pierre could see she was blushing.

Marcus’s gaze slid to Jean-Pierre. “Hear we’ve got one of our own missing.”

Jean-Pierre nodded, but said nothing more. His throat was far too tight and his eyes burned.

Thorne filled him in. Marcus, his eyebrows slashed low over his light brown eyes, listened intently. Every few seconds his gaze would take in the crowd, then Endelle, then back to Thorne.

Finally, Marcus stared at Havily. Her expression was serious as well. Jean-Pierre knew they were talking it over telepathically. After a long minute, Havily nodded.

“We’ve got this,” Marcus said. He then called out to Endelle, “Madame Supreme High Administrator, you have an important phone call. It’s urgent.”

Had to be some sort of code.

Endelle glared at him, her cheeks still rosy from the ongoing argument. At last she made her excuses and floated toward them. Her administrative style did not help her at all, but such a demonstration of levitation power—something most Second ascenders could not do—would be talked about for a very long time.

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