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So here Greaves was, cleaning up another mess. He needed pure vision now more than ever. He’d almost succeeded in tearing Grace away from her breh—and had he done so, all of his plans would have finally clicked into place. The value of this expensive Seers Palace was proven in his mind, but not with Stannett in his state of excess.
He drew his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and called his command center at the Estrella Mountain Complex. He spoke with an aide, who suggested sending one of his more sadistic Section Leaders over to get Stannett on board. He knew the one, a woman with real potential and strong preternatural power, physically capable of dominating Stannett.
Greaves thought it an excellent plan.
A few minutes later, the woman arrived, a female Militia Warrior with her red hair cut short and pressed flat against her head. Both his army and Thorne’s had the same components: Division and Section Leaders and Militia Warriors. Greaves had added generals at the top so that he need only deal with a handful of military men himself.
Greaves swept a hand in the direction of the pit. The woman moved forward and glanced down. Her lip curled. He had the feeling that if she’d been alone and seen this sight, she would have spit. “Is this the man who raped all those women out at the Superstitions?”
Greaves smiled. Apparently the woman had issues, which meant she would be quite perfect for this task. “The very one. I’d like you to whip him into shape, and I do mean literally. He tends to give himself to pleasure when he should be working.”
The curl of her upper lip turned into a smile, and the hard light in her eye deepened. “With pleasure, master.”
Lovely manners.
He gestured to the corpses. “These will need to be disposed of and more strapped in. You’ll find the cells are full of excellent replacements.”
“Very good, master.”
“As for Stannett, I need him awake and sober. Whatever you need to do to get him to that state—feel free to do.”
“Yes, master.” She jumped down into the pit and folded into her hand a leather whip with silver spikes hooked to the tip.
The sounds of Stannett’s sudden screams accompanied Greaves as he lifted his hand and folded once more to Estrella Mountain and his Command Center.
When he arrived, one of his aides hurried forward with good news. “We have most of the colonies mapped. The rest are close to discovery.”
Greaves had gone over the electronic grid that showed the entire globe of Mortal Earth. He had identified an almost invisible signal that marked the hidden colonies. Once he recognized the signature, his team had created the transmitters as well as the system by which each colony was being mapped using negative space. The process had been more successful than he’d hoped.
This was good news indeed.
“Excellent.” He moved to the deep end of the room, which held several large screens constantly in play. One showed the Mortal Earth colonies; another showed the various locations of his army. A third screen detailed troop movement based on his most recent orders, including minute-by-minute status updates.
He scanned the numbers. Below him, in the underground tunnels of his complex, the bunkers were filling up. He had been a visionary, and right now it was paying off. He had tens of miles of bunkers, drilled deep into the mountain range, large enough to house and feed half a million Militia Warriors for several weeks at a time.
He had seven ambitious generals, all committed to the Coming Order. Each had been chomping at the bit for a real battle for decades. The spirit in the room said everything. There were no squabbles; just a wonderful tense excitement, like a storm building and building.
The Seers reports out of Bogotá showed a battle over White Lake and another odd kind of spectacle event, both of which would take place within the next two to three days.
He smiled as he watched the screens, as he moved from general to general and listened while each orchestrated the movements of the army, either to the bunkers here in Estrella or to several key places in the world for easy dispatch to annihilate the Mortal Earth colonies.
Despite the presence of the obsidian triad and that Casimir was making it almost impossible to kill Leto, Greaves found he was breathing more deeply than he had in a long time.
And, yes, he was smiling.
* * *
Grace sat in the kitchen at the villa island and sipped her coffee. Leto stood opposite her near the sink, mug in hand. His hair was loose and shiny all down his shoulders, arms and back. He wore a black tank, jeans, and no shoes. Though he was no longer in his beast-state, he looked … edible.
Her lips parted but no words came out. Just air, a sigh full of desire. Had the breh-hedden done this to her, made her want him like she’d never wanted any man before? Probably, and yet she’d always desired him.
His eyes were so blue and clear now. Five months ago, they’d been clouded with pain and despair, the remnants of his life working with Greaves.
Had the breh-hedden worked this miracle as well? His healing both within and without?
She eased up on the mug and set it down with a clink on the stone surface. He seemed preoccupied, which didn’t surprise her given the task set before him.
“You’re so quiet,” she said at last. “And you’ve been staring at the faucet for at least a minute. Should I be worried?”
Leto glanced up from his own mug. He chuckled, at least for a moment, then his expression grew somber once more. “I’ve just been thinking about Greaves’s army—or more accurately, the kind of logistics required to bring his army under my command. What I fear is that if I move the divisions in bits and pieces, Greaves will catch wind of what we’re up to, and then all hell will break loose. We’d lose a huge portion of the ranks, and maybe even provoke a battle we would absolutely lose.”
“How many Militia Warriors we talking about? I know you spoke with at least a hundred Division Leaders.”
At that, Leto smiled. “Grace, I’m almost afraid to speak the words out loud, but I honestly think I could bring over a million.”
Grace’s brows rose. “Half Greaves’s force?”
Leto nodded. “I just can’t seem to figure out a way to fold that many troops to safety without Greaves knowing.”
Grace wanted to help. It was a simple as that. She stared at her mug, wondering if obsidian flame could be of use to Leto. She had thought her involvement in the war would somehow mean physical battle. Yet as she sipped and pondered, her thoughts turned to Thorne and his aides bent over the grid tracking the enemy’s movements; to Marcus launching web PR all over the world about the attack on the Seattle Colony; to Leto’s training of the colonial militia.
