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Endelle didn’t wait to watch anyone arrive. She turned instead and walked in the direction of the hangar.
Once through the broad doorway, she inclined her head to Gideon, who stood on the elevated command platform that overlooked the enormous room. She noted the tension in his eyes and in his stance.
Everyone felt the proximity of battle.
She moved to stand near the extensive folding platforms, her back to the room. She could feel her elite force arriving one after the other, as well as Havily and Parisa, who were bonded with Marcus and Medichi.
When everyone had arrived, she turned around—and the sight took her breath away. All nine of her beloved Warriors of the Blood, all in battle gear and ready for war, waited for her, shoulders back, spines straight, eyes alert.
These were her warriors, the men who had been with her for centuries, battling death vampires at the five major Borderlands in the Phoenix Metro Two area. Her throat felt tight, her eyes burned, her heart ached.
Each had suffered while striving to do right by Second Earth, to keep mortals and ascenders safe from the killing inherent in the soul of the death vampires.
She loved them all, but she wondered if her warriors knew how much she valued them. She let her gaze move from one to the next, starting with Kerrick who had bonded with Alison, the first of the men to be struck down by the breh-hedden. Marcus was next, his slash of brows over light brown eyes. He gripped Havily’s hand. Medichi was the tallest, his arm tight around Parisa’s shoulders. Jean-Pierre, as was his habit, stood behind Fiona, his arms wrapped around her; Fiona’s head cradled against his neck and shoulder.
Thorne leaned down, saying something tender in Marguerite’s ear. She smiled up at him and kissed him.
Leto met Endelle’s gaze and gave a brisk nod, his arm hooked around Grace’s. Luken stood next to Grace, one of three remaining unbonded warriors. He had the biggest shoulders she had ever seen, bigger than even Braulio’s. He was her new leader of the Warriors of the Blood, having replaced Thorne.
Zacharius, with his thick curly hair that drove the women wild, smiled crookedly. Santiago stood next to him with all his Latin charm, flipping a ruby-studded dagger.
Her men.
Her warriors.
“Madame Endelle,” Gideon called out.
She turned toward him and nodded.
“I just received word that Greaves and a large contingent of death vampires are now in flight over White Lake, just beneath the Trough to Third Earth.”
Her heart rate kicked into high gear. “Do we have visuals?”
“Coming.” Gideon spoke quietly into his com. He tapped on his computer keyboard and a moment later the huge screen behind him came to life.
The visual left nothing to the imagination. In a vast line, from the vortex and gathered in row upon row to the south, were hundreds of death vampires, the bright sun of the desert glittering off the gloss of their wings and exposing the pale skin tinged with blue. Each wore a maroon weapons harness, the signature color for Greaves’s army.
Greaves led the parade, but he hadn’t mounted his wings. He merely levitated at the head of his force and he seemed to be wearing only a pair of pants. His body gleamed with oil, which confirmed what she and Marguerite had seen in the future streams.
Greaves would change shape, and she would be forced to as well. She would have to morph into something that had a chance of subduing what Greaves would become.
“Dear Creator,” she whispered.
And for the first time in millennia, Endelle knew fear. She could hear her warriors murmuring.
Thorne drew close to her. She met his gaze and asked, “What do you suggest?”
“We’ll need a Militia Warrior force five times that size.”
Endelle saw the glitter in his eyes. “You have the force ready, don’t you?”
Thorne met her gaze and smiled. “Damn straight I do.”
“And you’ll need healers on the banks and Militia Warriors in speedboats to pull the wounded out of the water and get them to shore.” Wings could easily get caught in water and drown an ascender.
At that, Thorne smiled. “Already done. They’re a mile from the vortex, in a flotilla ready to engage.”
Endelle shook her head. “I keep forgetting that you’ve been planning every contingency for months.” She drew a deep breath and said, “You have command of obsidian flame. Do with them what you see fit on every level. I know they’re not warriors so if you can help it, don’t put them into battle. Find some way to use them that will support me or your troops.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.”
“Then let’s do this thing. Let’s see if we can’t finish off that bastard right now.”
But Thorne took her arm gently in his. To her mind, he sent, I saw the vision as well. It flowed into my head as Marguerite saw it. I could also sense that there was something permanent about the change, unlike what I am able to do when I morph. Are you sure you have to do this thing?
Yes, Braulio explained it to me.
He searched her eyes, I’m so sorry that this is on you, Endelle. You deserve so much better. Regardless, I’ve got your back.
Endelle nodded. I know. Just his nearness calmed her fears. Thank you.
After Braulio had told her the difficult truth about her new ability, she had known she was facing one of the toughest moments of her life, to choose to become something she would have to morph into the rest of her ascended life.
But the hour was too late for regrets or for making other decisions. There was nothing to be done or to be undone. Apparently Greaves was going all-in, pushing his last chip onto the table and expecting to win because of his little secret.
Of course, he had no way of knowing what Braulio had done to her.
As she pondered the vision of herself in her altered state, she wondered why the hell she would have chosen something that looked so vulnerable. A ruse of some kind?
Then she remembered something about scorpions. Some carried a poison that could kill a human being but couldn’t harm a cat. She thought about adding a fine stinger tail to what would otherwise be a quite beautiful transformation, but the vision hadn’t included anything like that, just an odd almost continual shedding of perspiration, probably to keep the wings flexible. If nothing else, she would be quick in the air, much more agile than with her usual wings.
She gave her orders and with obsidian flame, including Thorne, backing her up, as well as her Warriors of the Blood, she folded to White Lake. She now levitated in the air fifty yards from Greaves. And because Thorne had built the army, and had made sure his force drilled a variety of maneuvers every day, she could sense her force move into place behind her: twenty-five hundred seasoned Militia Warriors, male and female.
