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But Diallo smiled. “Your temper, of course.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Diallo shook his head. “One day, you’ll understand.” He turned toward Thorne. “In the meantime, I can’t stay here for very long.” He tapped his forehead. “I have a terrible gnat in here, in the form of one of the council’s elders. We were having a wonderful argument when I got your summons and the dear man wants me back.” He laughed as he spoke, a good-humored way to tell Thorne to get on with things.
“Unless you are opposed to the idea, I want to bring Endelle here in the morning, and I’d like for you to be here. She will need to speak with Leto, to figure out how to protect him, and he’s ready to talk. But she also needs to be made aware of these hidden colonies.” So far, Thorne knew of two others beyond the Seattle Colony, one outside of Portland and of course one in Florida, near Lake City.
Diallo nodded. “We’ve been debating the situation all night. Ultimately, however, we know that our choices became exceedingly limited the moment those death vampires breached our mist.”
Thorne couldn’t agree more. “Would it be better if I brought Endelle to you now?”
But Diallo placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt a sudden familiar soothing flow of warmth. Alison had the same ability, to give ease and comfort with a touch. “I would advise both you and Marguerite to take your rest now. I’ve strengthened my mist against intruders—although if your Jeannie at Central needs to fold anyone to this location, it won’t be a problem, your discretion of course. And if even one death vampire succeeds in getting through our mist again, alarms will sound this time and give you warning.
“Please, make use of my home. I will meet you there tomorrow. How does ten sound?”
“Good. That’s good.”
Diallo glanced in the direction of the door to Leto’s current room. “If you like, we can create a second protective mist around the infirmary, if that would ease your mind about your brother warrior and about your sister.”
“Absolutely.” Thorne released a very deep sigh. He was more worried about the situation than even he realized.
Diallo extended his hand toward the front door. “If you’ll come outside with me, I’ll show you the mist technique in case you ever need to use it. I believe both your powers are strong enough to make use of it at will.”
“Is it that simple?”
Diallo smiled. “Yes, I believe it is.”
Thorne brought Marguerite forward to precede him from the building. Once outside, he turned toward the smallish cabin-like structure. Diallo stood next to Marguerite and lifted his foot for both of them to see.
His rope sandal disappeared, folded somewhere.
Diallo then placed his foot in the dirt. “The trick to this kind of mist is a connection to the earth. And the Pacific Northwest is such a damp part of the world that the trees often have moss growing on their northern faces. Picture any tree in the vicinity then fold some of that moss into your hand. You won’t need much.”
Thorne focused on a tree, and with a little mental scraping took moss from near the base and folded it into his hand. He held the moss palm-up. Marguerite did the same.
“Marguerite, touch my arm. Thorne, touch her arm. We’ll form a chain and you’ll be able to feel and resonate with a like vibration.”
Diallo was a man of action and he simply began the process. Thorne had created mist before, thousands of times, but he had no idea whether Marguerite had or not.
But as the vibration passed through her to Thorne, he watched her smile as she held up her arm, the moss pinched between her fingers. All three of them began sending the lace-like filaments, only now shrouded with a green tinge of moss, toward the dwelling until it was completely covered. Each of their mists, however, had a different quality, and the end result, though powerful, wasn’t exactly elegant.
Diallo laughed. “I’m not sure if I love it or hate it.”
Marguerite laughed as well.
Thorne just shook his head. He could feel the power of the mist and knew in his heart of hearts that if Grace and Leto weren’t safe beneath this protective shroud, they wouldn’t be safe anywhere.
He turned and offered his hand to Diallo. “Thank you for the mist. I’ll sleep easier tonight. And thank you for the lesson. I have no doubt I’ll be making use of this technique in the future.”
“You can retrieve this moss from any point in the world with just a thought. And I have found that for some reason the moss from these fir trees works best, but you might want to conduct your own experiments.”
Thorne smiled. “Hard to find this quality of moss in the desert.”
Diallo laughed. “I suppose not. Well, I must away. Good night.” He bowed slightly, lifted his right arm, and vanished.
Thorne suggested that he fold Marguerite to Diallo’s courtyard. She agreed, sliding her arm around his waist.
He felt the vibration and the slight blanking-out, but as he touched down in Diallo’s living room, he had a thought, a rather perfect one that he knew would please Marguerite. He glanced down at his battle-weary kilt and the blood spatters on his arms and legs.
Yeah, he needed to get cleaned up but there was something else as well, another powerful need that had to be tended before he could relax.
He squeezed her waist and said, “I forgot something, but I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”
Since she looked ready to argue with him, he chucked her chin, lifted his arm, and took off.
* * *
Grace stared into the most beautiful blue eyes that had ever existed in the entire course of mankind, clear and piercing, even though in this moment Leto was doused with pain. His lips were parted. “I don’t want this for you.”
She nodded. “Leto, it’s all right.” She glanced down the length of the bed. He filled it top-to-bottom. Even though from the time she could remember, Thorne had been warrior-sized and she was used to all the height and breadth, she often marveled at just how big these men were. “Maybe I could lie down next to you while we do this?”
“That would be … nice.”
With great effort, he pushed himself to the opposite side of the bed. He was beneath a sheet and a soft wool blanket. He lifted the blanket and she crept beneath so that his very naked body was separated from hers only by the sheet. And her gown.
He pulled the blanket over her.
“Oh,” she whispered, “it’s so warm. I’m never this warm, at least not in winter or early spring. Or the fall for that matter. Summer was always nice, though.”
