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Greaves was suddenly in her mind, busting past her mental shields, a reminder that the bastard had power. You can surrender now and live, he sent.
There was resonance and force behind his words, as though he shouted into a canyon. His voice hurt.
She sent back her favorite phrase, however, and added her own resonance. Fuck you.
With pleasure, she watched Greaves list, ever so slightly, midair.
A faint mist suddenly surrounded Greaves, and Endelle knew the time had come to morph. Her throat grew tight as she also swirled her mist. She got rid of her flight suit, took a deep breath, then let the morphing begin.
The physical ache returned from the time Braulio had first infected her with the virus, deep in her muscles and bones, as everything began to stretch and reshape. She kept the future stream image firmly in mind and, despite the pain, allowed the new being to come forth from her body.
But dear Creator, help her to understand how this shape could slay a monster?
* * *
Thorne saw Endelle’s mist, as well as Greaves’s. He knew what was transpiring, though he could hardly believe the transformations that would take place. At the same time, he had to get his army poised for battle.
He turned to face what was essentially a full regiment of twenty-five hundred warriors, which meant five warriors against every death vampire, a necessary equation. He touched his com and spoke to his twenty-five Section Leaders, each of whom had charge of a hundred men and women.
Like a ballet corps, the force split vertically, forming five layers, one above the next, in the air, thirty feet between each layer so that Thorne’s gaze now traveled up and up.
Wings flapped sustaining positions. He spoke again, and the force now spread across the width of White Lake, bank to bank, another means of allowing for battle maneuver.
He glanced at both sides of the lake and noted how the hotels and gardens were completely empty of people. Colonel Seriffe had done his job well and evacuated everyone against the battle now shaping up on the lake.
He turned to face Endelle once more and saw in the distance that Greaves had completed his transformation and was hovering near the surface of the water. According to the vision, the battle between Endelle and Greaves would take place just above the surface.
Thorne extended his vision to see Greaves better.
Jesus H. Christ. The monster had become more of himself but with what looked like a biological suit of armor. He was twice Greaves’s normal size. His face was still there, but his body had heavy plates that could probably withstand hand-blast capacity. He looked physically powerful. If Thorne could guess, then blow for blow Endelle would have to become something similar to be able to battle him, and according to the future streams, she would not be anything close.
Endelle’s mist evaporated and what emerged was like something from a massive chrysalis: an angelic butterfly that glittered beneath the sun. Thorne had to put a hand up to shield his eyes. It was as though she were covered in gems that reflected the light.
She was so beautiful.
Though he had a sinking sensation that what she had chosen to become could never battle a fully armored Greaves, he thought wryly that Endelle had created one helluva spectacle costume, something that must have pleased her soul.
As he saw Greaves’s death vampire force—and because Endelle had given him complete command of the army—he made a quick decision.
He touched his com and ordered his regiment to perform one of his favorite drills, a massive group flight, at an angle rising into the air in order to achieve a superior advantage over the enemy.
A split second later, his Militia Warriors, as a unit, began to flap every shade of wing imaginable at an upward angle that within less than a minute, if unimpeded, would place them above Greaves’s death vampire force.
He marveled at the sight his force presented, flying in perfect formation as a well-practiced regiment could do, up and up, still stacked five high, still the breadth of the lake below.
As they passed overhead, moving between him and the direct sight line of the sun, shadows rippled over him.
Pride swelled his heart.
Whatever the results of the forthcoming battle, he would never forget this moment as long as he lived.
He tapped a second com and reached Luken. “There are three Third Earth death vampires behind Greaves. Only your warriors will be able to take them. As soon as Endelle engages Greaves, attack only those vamps.”
“Understood, boss.”
Thorne smiled. How many times had he heard Luken call him “boss” while he had been the leader. A hundred? A thousand? More than that, no doubt.
He knew when Luken had communicated with the warriors, because as another unified group, they launched high into the air, but still below the Militia Warriors that were now almost in place.
Greaves’s force remained static, submissive to his will. But he had apparently been so focused on Endelle that he’d failed to observe Thorne’s maneuvers. When several shadows passed over him, he looked up and seemed to weave in the air for a moment as though surprised.
He must have issued orders, because his pretty-boys suddenly began an upward drive in the direction of the now descending Militia Warrior force. A few seconds later, the battle in the air began as swords clashed and maroon-vested death vampires began fighting squads of Militia Warriors.
Thorne turned to face north and could see the flotilla in the distance. He touched his com and spoke with Horace, directing him to begin an approach; the battle had commenced and healers would be needed soon.
As for obsidian flame, he pivoted in the air and said, “I want you to stay back with Horace and the support line of warriors. If you’re needed, I will call you forward. But even Endelle would prefer that you remain separate from the battle.”
The women nodded gravely. But it was his sister who drew close and said, “If you need us to fight, we will.” Both Marguerite and Fiona nodded in agreement.
They were brave, these women, none of whom was built to wield a sword. But each had the same spirit as his warriors, willing to do all that was required of her.
“Thank you,” he said, looking from face to face with great affection. “I promise I will summon you as needed.” But he was relieved as he watched them fly north in the direction of the flotilla.
* * *
Endelle allowed herself to feel the being she had become. She flexed her new wings, grateful that she still had her arms and legs and wasn’t in too different a shape from her usual flight arrangement.
She experimented for a moment, flapping the butterfly-like panels. Just as she suspected, she could move quickly and make much sharper turns. She also found that because the change was genetic, her body knew what it needed to do.
