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She heard the sound of an ax against wood and shifted to look in Santiago’s direction. Once he’d learned that there would be a desert party, he’d started hauling and chopping enough logs to feed at least ten bonfires.
Most of it was stacked off to the side, but some of it was in the shape of huge logs that either Santiago or Zacharius would take to chopping just for fun.
As it was, the fire rose at least thirty feet into the dark night sky.
Marcus and Havily were sitting side by side to the right of Thorne. They were seated on a huge log, arguing about something, until Marcus dragged her into his arms and kissed her. Havily laughed and leaned against his chest. He rubbed her back, then kissed her again.
Kerrick and Alison sat on a blanket well back from the fire. Helena was with them, but because she was so active and very powerful, Kerrick had created a dome of mist over the child so that when she mounted her wings, she couldn’t just take off. The baby had learned to fly before she’d taken her first step. What a challenge.
Grace smiled. But when had parenting ever not been a challenge?
As for Medichi, he’d taken Parisa off into the desert at least a couple of hundred yards away. She couldn’t see them or hear them, thank the Creator. Maybe they’d further disguised their position by sneaking behind a massive saguaro or setting up their own mist. Given the distance and the darkness, a vampire could accomplish a lot with his breh.
Zacharius slammed his ax into a log, leaving it there, then moved to stretch out on a blanket on his side. He threw small bits of something into the fire. The bits would flare and more sparks would rise. Santiago walked over to him and handed him a Dos Equis.
Grace couldn’t help it. She extended her hearing in Santiago’s direction. “It’s just you, me, and Luken, hermano.”
Zach smiled up at him and clinked Santiago’s bottle. He smiled. “Yep, just the three of us. I’ll want to hit the Blood and Bite in a few.”
“I’m with you.” Santiago dropped down to sit beside him. He sipped his beer, and he, too, had that dark look.
But Grace had a sudden strong impression that the breh-hedden wouldn’t be far behind for either of them. And why would it be? They were Warriors of the Blood, some of the finest vampires on the face of the earth, some of the most powerful both physically and preternaturally.
Which made her think of Luken. He had politely refused to join the party. He insisted that at least one WhatBee show up at the Borderlands, that it wasn’t right for Seriffe’s Militia Warriors to shoulder the burden alone, even for one night. But Grace knew the truth. Luken still had a thing for Havily, and in this kind of environment, where brehs would be affectionate—well, Grace wasn’t surprised he’d made his excuses.
As for obsidian flame, they were accounted for. Jean-Pierre sat on a log, off to Grace’s left, with Fiona on his lap, his long fingers stroking up and down her bare arm. He kept whispering things into her ear, and she would giggle, looking very young, almost carefree. The word was that Fiona was pregnant, though the pair was keeping it quiet for now.
Grace thought the couple ought to have children, a dozen of them, and maybe they would over the centuries to come. The war looked to be over, though there was massive cleanup to be done, with thousands of death vampires still roaming Second Earth.
Despite that, a new spirit was everywhere: hopeful when a few days ago it seemed impossible to win a battle against Greaves. Now he was on Fourth Earth and no longer a threat.
She watched Marguerite approach the bonfire. She had fashioned a very long stick for herself so that she could prod the wood-based coals at the bottom of the bonfire, dragging some out and building smaller bonfires. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. But then why wouldn’t she? Her young life had been filled with horror, and she’d never really gotten to be a child. Apparently, Thorne encouraged her to just play, in the same way Marguerite in turn encouraged him to relax and let things go.
She was so happy to be in the same circle as her brother. She would be an aunt to Thorne’s children and couldn’t wait. Thorne would one day serve as the ruler of Second Earth—that much she felt in every bone of her body, though no official announcement had been made nor had Endelle given a hint that she was stepping down. And Marguerite, as Supreme High Seer of Second Earth, was almost single-handedly overhauling the entire global Seer process, beginning with what she was calling her Seers’ Bill of Rights. With Owen Stannett dead, very little stood in the way of Marguerite’s reforming the corrupt Seers Fortress system.
Grace patted Thorne’s arm. “This is a great group, you know.”
He smiled down at her, looking deeply content, a warm light in his eye.
Oh, Creator in heaven, she thought, thank you for giving him peace. His hazel eyes were clear and beautiful, especially in the flickering light of the bonfire.
He nodded. “Yep, some of the finest men and women you’ll ever know.” He glanced around. “Isn’t Leto back yet?”
“He wanted to make sure that the boys were all right. We got a babysitter, but he said he just wanted to check things out. He feels very protective of them. I never thought I would see this, but he and Casimir seem to have formed a bond.”
Thorne shook his head. “We’ve entered a time of miracles, that’s what I think.”
Grace smiled. “And Marguerite has become your miracle.”
“In every possible way.” His gravelly voice had dropped at least half an octave, so it wasn’t a surprise that Marguerite turned to him, the long stick quiet for a moment, her brows raised.
Grace could tell they were communicating telepathically. Marguerite dropped her stick and launched herself into his arms. Grace had the good sense to shift to the end of the log just to give the couple some room, laughing as she did so. Marguerite kissed him. It was such a beautiful sight, to see her worn-out brother so restored and so deeply in love.
She sighed. Leto hadn’t been gone very long, but she missed him. She was almost ready to go to him, but a shimmering in front of her brought Thorne to his feet his sword in hand.
But there Leto was, having returned to the bonfire, and near him was Casimir and … Patience.
Grace blinked at her sister, who stood smiling beside Casimir, her arm hooked around his.
“Patience?”
Thorne folded his sword away and drew close to Grace. “Is that you? Patience?”
She nodded. Tears swam in her hazel eyes.
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “I thought you were dead. I found so much blood in that gully that I was sure you were dead.”
