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She was really sick of all these ass**les having control, but dammit, what was she supposed to do now?
* * *
Thorne floated among the galaxies, so at peace, just like before yet not quite. He didn’t seem to be as aware as he had been earlier in this state after Marguerite had split open his obsiddy power, which had in turn launched him into a true out-of-body experience.
James had been with him then.
Now he was just alone, as though he was neither here in this space, nor there, in his body.
But he was at peace.
Oh, yes, that much he could feel.
He waited for Marguerite, his wildcat, to start punching at him, send lightning bolts into his obsidian flame power, forcing him to rejoin his body.
But nothing came, as though she were dead as well.
Yet he knew she wasn’t.
Just him, in this floating place of peace.
No more responsibility.
No more war.
No more making love.
He would miss that.
Something moved inside his spirit at thoughts of Marguerite, of making love to her, of loving her. She had been his light, his sanity, his beacon. She didn’t deserve to die in that cage, bleeding to death because Greaves was a monster.
He didn’t deserve to die, either, yet how peaceful it was just floating among the stars.
His spirit moved once more: Marguerite.
He didn’t want to leave her.
A wrestling began, a struggling between two worlds deep in his soul: a longing to remain, a need to go back and to finish what he had started.
But this sense of peace was not a new sensation. He had felt this recently while lying in bed with his arms around Marguerite, feeling her hair tickle his chin, putting his hand between her br**sts to feel her heart beating, or yes, taking her, then taking her blood. In all those moments, he had felt peace, a mountain of it, he just hadn’t seen it before.
She’d given him peace for a century but he’d dismissed the sensation as negligible. Yet here he was hanging between life and death, and understanding that there was nothing small about what she’d brought to his life.
She’d brought the tremendous force of all that she was, nothing held back. She’d kept him sane. Why had he believed that was nothing? Why had he always thought of her as just his Convent lay? In a century of sharing her bed, even for half an hour at the most each time, what was there she didn’t know about him? Sure, they’d done their gymnastics and it had been great, but when all that was pared down, when he would finish inside her then look into her eyes, how many times had he thought: I trust this woman.
She had his back.
She’d proven herself over and over.
She’d doubted her ability to love but anyone willing to lay down her life knew a helluva lot about love.
She had laid her life down over and over.
She’d done it for him. And for Grace. And for a dozen Convent devotiates.
As he contemplated her, something else arose: that the love he felt for her had nothing to do with the breh-hedden.
He loved her.
Now she was dying and she needed him.
But how was he supposed to get back where he needed to be, as in back in his goddamn body, when he was all but dead?
He began to claw his way back, but it was like pushing against clouds. There was no resistance, no way to gain traction, not even a direction to find.
There was only one avenue that held the smallest bit of hope. He reached deep into his mind and flew toward the speck of light he’d come to know as his obsidian flame power. But even that source of light was dull. When he reached it, however, he dove within and felt a faint pulsing sensation. Maybe it was all he needed.
But what the hell was he supposed to do now?
Another question surfaced. Why had he failed in this situation?
For such a long time, he’d believed the war was on his shoulders, his alone. But in the past year what had happened? Alison had become Endelle’s executive assistant and had calmed the scorpion queen down a lot. Havily’s darkening ability had given Endelle more sleep, which in turn had eased Thorne because Her Supremeness was quiet in his head for a few hours every night. Marcus had taken over administrative duties and kept dozens of High Administrators from defecting. Medichi and Parisa together had an amazing power to end a battle with the use of royle wings. Even Jean-Pierre was increasing the powers of the Militia Warriors through his own emerging ability.
No, he wasn’t alone in this responsibility.
Then there was the untapped obsidian flame triad power. Who the hell knew what gift the three women together would bring to the table.
On some cosmic level, therefore, he finally saw that he wasn’t alone in this. He was surrounded by gifted ascenders, each with a job to do. And he wasn’t alone.
He wasn’t alone.
And this wasn’t just on him.
So what was on him, especially here, in this cage with his breh dying?
Simple. He needed to make sure that she lived.
After that, whatever role he would need to play in the future, he would embrace fully, but not as one who acted alone and bore the sufferings of the world on his shoulders alone.
Which meant …
He sent a very soft mental call to Marguerite: Get Fiona.
* * *
From deep with her mind, Marguerite heard the words, Get Fiona, but she couldn’t make sense of them. Had she fallen asleep? Something smelled so funny, like blood and animal. She opened her eyes. Oh, yeah, dead tiger.
Get Fiona, came once more, stronger this time and … it sounded like Thorne.
Thorne was dying. Maybe dead already. She was close. She was so damn cold.
Fiona. The gold variety of obsidian flame. Fiona, who could channel things.
She’d made a connection with Fiona a few weeks ago and in her way she’d helped Fiona and Endelle rescue twenty thousand people from Dark Spectacle.
The connection was special.
She dove once more within her obsidian flame power and this time sent a message to Fiona. As before the power seemed to dwindle to a weak stream. She couldn’t do this alone. Greaves had blocked their power.
Thorne, she sent.
She waited.
After a moment, very faint, I’m here, sweetheart.
The sound of his gravelly voice, deep within her mind, strengthened her. We have to combine power to reach Fiona. I’m coming to you, okay?
Another long pause. Too long.
Yes.
Despite how weak he sounded, she pushed into his mind and at first was startled at how cold and empty it was. But she could feel some warmth and headed in the direction of what she knew to be his obsiddy power.
She arrived, shocked at how faint the light was, when before he’d been a ball of fire. Regardless, she pushed through the membrane.
