Gates of Rapture

by Caris Roane

  How odd, though, that the call of the breh-hedden had disappeared as quickly as a sigh the moment his toe hit the water of the first pool. He had lost his ability to scent Grace and she him. Their moment of shared passion had passed.

  He had never blamed Grace for the disappearance of the breh-hedden. She had simply been a light he could not hold. She had saved him by coming with him to Fourth and by encouraging him to enter Beatrice’s program. Her presence in his life had made him a better father and a better man and quite possibly had returned his life to him.

  He knew the sacrifice she had made in leaving Leto behind. But at the time, he hadn’t given a blind bat’s testicle about how she felt, only that she was with him and that he’d been able to take her to bed. Now, after experiencing true remorse, and seeing from the perspective of those he’d hurt, he would give anything to undo the deed.

  But here was the true punishment of remorse: that nothing could be taken back.

  His only consolation was in the nature of the task he’d foreseen accomplishing in the lower dimensions. Grace had sacrificed for him, and now he must return the favor. If only he’d been able to complete the redemption program, he would be home free.

  Not so now. Despite his hurrying the process today, he now faced his mortality as surely as he’d let the Grim Reaper in the door himself.

  But if there was any way that he could come out of this alive, he’d do it. He didn’t care what it took.

  Both Kendrew and Sloane stood by the side of his bed. The windows were open and the sheer drapes billowed, letting in the fresh Denver Four evening air.

  He reached a hand toward Kendrew and smoothed his fingers over the small wrinkles on his son’s forehead. He could sense Kendrew’s confusion. Sloane stood beside him, younger and much less certain about all that was happening. His lips were turned down and he leaned into Kendrew. He relied heavily on his older brother, another point of remorse for Casimir.

  “I miss Grace, too,” Sloane said.

  He smiled at Sloane. “I know you do.”

  Because of Beatrice’s program he had a sensitivity to others he’d never known before, so he could feel now all that his boys had suffered because of his narcissistic lifestyle. He had not done right by his children, the first he’d ever had in his five millennia of vampire life. But he would make it up to them, so help him God.

  He looked into Kendrew’s eyes and held his gaze firmly. “You will be with Grace again, I promise you that with all my heart.”

  “How do you know, Papa, when everyone leaves?”

  His chest hurt as though a boulder now sat on top of him. “Because I saw it in a vision, that you would be camping with her one day.”

  “When did you see the vision?”

  “While I was in Auntie Beatrice’s pool. And you know how wise and powerful your auntie is.”

  At that, the wrinkles began to soften. “She can make butterflies appear with a wave of her hands.”

  Casimir smiled, but the smile cost him because it stretched the skin of his face. He didn’t stop, though. What a small price to pay, this pain he was feeling, for all that he had done in his long wretched life, for the way he had failed to protect their mother from something so simple as a car accident on Mortal Earth. He had heard her screams between dimensions, but because he’d been enjoying himself with another woman, he’d ignored her and she had died.

  Oh, yes, his sins were legion.

  But he was atoning, and he would continue to atone until the last second of his life, so help him Creator. He opened his arms therefore to his boys. “Come to me. Let me kiss those beautiful foreheads.”

  They were too young to understand that he was in pain, so as they scrambled over him, he took deep breaths and refused to release the bellows that hung low in the depths of his lungs. He could have screamed for the agony, but he didn’t.

  Instead he drew his sons close, one to each side, and cradled them, ignoring the fire on his skin and instead savoring that what he loved the most was close to him in this moment.

  He talked with them and laughed with them, until they began to slumber. He saw the stars through the sheer drapes. He gave thanks for the beauty of this night and for the path he was on. He ignored the darkness of the future. Above all, he promised himself that he would fulfill the destiny he had foreseen. In a few hours, when he was better recovered, he would pay a visit to Endelle, offering his services as a Guardian of Ascension.

  As he slumbered, a dream came to him. He saw an elderly man sitting on a park bench feeding sunflower seeds to pigeons clustered around his feet. The man looked up at him with eyes that shone as he said, “Well met, Casimir. You will attend me tomorrow at the portal to Third Earth.”

  “How do I find the portal when it’s been closed for so long?”

  “It’s above White Lake on Second Earth, but you have sufficient power to follow the coordinates I give you now. You will awaken in a few hours completely healed. You must come to me then.” Casimir felt the information drop into his brain. He bowed to the old man, and the dream faded.

  * * *

  Grace stood in front of the mirror in Leto’s upstairs bathroom. She’d taken her time showering, then afterward drying and curling her hair, dressing, putting on makeup, just being a girl. She lifted a hand to flick her eyebrows a little, shaping them. All the silver bracelets jangled, the ones she had crafted herself during her stay at Beatrice’s home.

  The bracelets made a pretty sound, a relatively new sound in her ascended life.

  She was nervous. Leto hadn’t exactly seen her like this but she thought maybe she needed to be forthright—not just about Casimir and Fourth and her intentions now that she was back, but about everything.

  She’d changed her manner of dress, something Leto wouldn’t have noticed since he’d been in his beast-state when she arrived in his basement. Later, at the hot spring, her makeup was gone and her hair plastered to her head, no curls, no beads, no stars, no blue sapphire, no adornments.

  She moved to the window of the bedroom and looked down into the open backyard. Two Militia Warriors were standing close together and laughing. If she extended her hearing, she’d be able to hear the gist. But then they were warriors. She probably didn’t want to know what they were talking about.

  Okay, so she was stalling.

  She put a hand to her stomach. Her bare stomach. The full-length muslin skirt hung low on her hips, and the top was cut long at the sides but high at the middle of the waist to allow a peekaboo of her navel. Though the blouse had long sleeves, the neckline plunged and she was very much on display. She fingered the small sapphire in the loop just above her belly button.

  Her heart tapped a little tremolo.

  Would Leto even like this version of her?

  “Move it, Grace,” she murmured.

  She could have folded outside to the warriors, but they’d probably all draw their swords. If she understood their positions, they’d surrounded the house. Also, Leto had talked about folding to the landing platforms, which meant that dematerializing in the colony right now was being monitored carefully.

  So she walked down the stairs and loosened up by shaking her hands a few times.

  She opened the front door, and four warriors turned in her direction. The nearest was almost as tall as Leto. His brows rose and he seemed to freeze as he stared at her. The rest did as well.

  “I’m ready,” she said. When no one said anything, she felt a slight blush rise on her cheeks. She’d spent a hundred years in a convent, covered from neck to ankle. She often forgot what the display of a certain amount of skin could do to a man.

  She also knew that for this event and among the colonists, she was dressed properly for an outdoor, festive occasion, held at night.

  The tallest one, who seemed to be in charge, blinked a couple of times and lifted his chin as though studiously refusing to drop his gaze lower. Yes, she was definitely showing some cleavage, and, yes, her stomach was bare.

  “Good
evening, ma’am. I’m Warrior Gideon. My squad will see you safely to the landing platforms in the valley proper. I understand you’re familiar with the valley and with the Seattle hidden colony?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Warrior Leto wanted me to tell you that platforms have been set up on the far western side of the competition zone. That’s where we’ll be going from here.”

  She smiled. As though she hadn’t been folding all her two thousand years and into tens of thousands of different localities, including Fourth Earth. “You’re very kind, but I think I can handle a little fold through the forest and across a fairly narrow glade.”

  At that, a glimmer shone in the warrior’s eye and his lips twitched. “I might have made mention of that fact to Warrior Leto.”

  “And?”

  “He might have scowled at me.”

  Grace smiled. “Then allow me to take your arm for the fold.”

  He moved with that easy lethal stride that most athletes and warriors possessed. When she took his proffered arm, he spoke into his com. His squad of eight, from all around the building, folded to his position, assumed a large V-formation flight pattern. A moment later she felt that swift glide of nothingness through nether-space. But despite her confidence, she landed a little unsteadily.

  Gideon caught her. He glanced down at her with a questioning brow.

  She shrugged. “And after I boasted about my abilities. I do have an excuse, though. My last fold was from Fourth. I forgot how short this one would be.”

  He chuckled. “Show-off.”

  She was laughing when half the warriors behind moved forward and started to march down the ramp in front of her. The rest would no doubt follow. Leto would have arranged this. He had said he would do his utmost to protect her.

  Lifting her gaze, she took everything in at a glance. From the elevated position of the landing platforms, she could see that the warrior games were about ready to start. The entire colony had to be present as well as competitors from all over the world. She could hear various languages float across the air.

  To the left of the platforms, which was north in this case, were dozens of tents selling clothes, food, trinkets, and jewelry. She’d have to check out the latter, but the smell of grilled meat made her stomach rumble.

  To the right were what looked like a number of massive structures that no doubt tested various warrior skills. Arranged throughout were tall poles on which sat metal-sculpted baskets full of wood. A crude form of lighting, perhaps? There were a couple dozen of them arranged down both sides of the event grid. In addition, lines of torches were everywhere, guarded and kept lit by teen ascenders all wearing matching bright orange T-shirts and jeans.

  She knew that the Seattle One hidden colony had a strict policy of keeping electricity-based light usage low in order to sustain the colony’s secrecy. The overhead web of moss-based mist could only go so far in cloaking the colony.

  Excitement permeated the air.

  When the first four Militia Warriors parted, she had a view of the ascenders waiting for her at the bottom of the platform. There were two women and four men, and she smiled since she knew them all.

  Jean-Pierre stood with his arm draped over Fiona’s shoulder, his fingers laced through hers. They were both listening to Jean-Pierre’s great-grandson Arthur tell a story of some kind. She still couldn’t get over how much Arthur could have been Jean-Pierre’s twin.

  Thorne stood slightly turned away from Fiona, his hand on Marguerite’s hip. She faced Leto and punched a finger into his weapons harness at pec height and was telling him something quite firmly. Thorne didn’t look happy. He kept batting her finger away from Leto.

  Leto backed up a step. Grace thought she knew what was going on, so she extended her hearing; sure enough, Thorne had set up a possessive growl. Yep, her brother was growling at Leto.

  Marguerite whirled on Thorne and shoved at his chest with both hands, but he didn’t budge. He just glared at Leto over her head until she finally reached up and kissed him flush on the lips. She had to reach pretty far since Marguerite was the short one of the group at only five-five. She was also very pregnant. Thorne froze and kind of melted all over her, apologizing and kissing her neck and her chin.

  Leto stood back from them, but he was smiling and shaking his head.

  She heard Arthur’s voice as he said, “Holy shit, is that Grace?”

  She glanced in his direction and once more felt a sudden heat rise on her cheeks.

  “Grace?” Thorne’s gravelly voice cut through all the chatter. “Is that you?”

  She shifted to meet Thorne’s surprised gaze. He was looking her up and down. She nodded.

  He ran toward her and her heart warmed up. Was this Thorne? He actually smiled. He was holding her in his arms and twirling her in a circle until her legs and fairly full skirt flowed away from her. She must have looked like a large flag.

  When at last she was begging him to stop, he set her down and he was grinning from ear to ear. She quickly adjusted her clothes, pulling the waist of her skirt up and the hem of her top down.

  Leto moved up next to her. She heard him giving orders to Gideon and his men, but Grace was focused on her brother. “Thorne, you look so different—and can I say, wow, you actually look happy.”

  Thorne extended his arm to Marguerite. “I am happy, and here’s the reason why.”

  Marguerite led with her belly. Her hair was still short and very blond, which seemed to enhance her large brown eyes. She looked adorable. Grace greeted her with a hug, though she had to lean down to do it. They’d been cellmates in the Convent, and good friends. She’d missed Marguerite.

  Thorne’s arm was immediately around his breh’s waist, part protective, part possessive, and a big part just wonderful affection. Marguerite put her hand on Thorne’s.

  “So you’ve come home,” Marguerite said. “I heard you were on Fourth.”

  “I was.”

  “What’s it like up there?”

  “Beautiful. I stayed at Beatrice’s palace. It was similar to Endelle’s palace but practical, with more hallways and private rooms, a lovely and very large central courtyard with plants from all over the world. And a hanging garden off the second-story balconies.” She felt shy again, since everyone was staring at her. “Oh, I guess I forgot the most important part. Many of the homes, like Beatrice’s, float in the air.”

  “No shit,” Marguerite said. She then patted her belly. “Sorry, kids.” She glanced back at Grace and lowered her voice. “We’re trying to curb warrior-speak. But, hey, I’m so glad you’re back. We all are.”

  “It’s good to be back.”

  Thorne brought Fiona forward next. She was the gold variety of obsidian flame, the first to discover her power. Jean-Pierre and Arthur rounded out the half circle on the left, next to Thorne, with Leto on the right.

  As Fiona drew close, Grace felt her obsidian power begin to vibrate and rise through the bottoms of her feet as though originating from deep in the earth.

  “What’s happening?” Thorne asked.

  Since Marguerite was already close, Grace glanced at each of them. Power vibrated from one to the next, flowing and rippling. As though they’d always done so, they touched shoulders and formed a circle.

  “Oh, the babies are kicking like crazy now,” Marguerite murmured.

  Grace’s power really began to flow, and she knew it was the same for both Fiona and Marguerite. Without warning, their powers combined, though Grace could tell hers was weak since it still hadn’t been fully released. She had a sense that the men had moved back a couple of steps, taking it in.

  Power swirled and rose. She looked up and three flames of color twirled together; gold, red, and blue.

  But the sensation began to feel uncomfortable for Grace and not quite right. “No,” she said. A headache crawled up the back of her skull and nearly imploded her brain. “No,” she said louder. “Please stop.”

  “I … can’t,” Marguerite whispered.<
br />
  “Jean-Pierre,” Fiona called out. “Help us.”

  But it was Thorne who pushed between Marguerite and Fiona and broke the circle. All that power that had been flowing around and building now seemed to flow into him.

  Thorne ended up glowing, but apparently that wasn’t unusual for his version of obsidian flame. Fiona, too, would glow. Grace remembered stories about Fiona—that when she was first learning to use her power, she would light up the Militia Warrior grid room in Apache Junction Two with her golden aura.

  At least Grace could breathe again.

  She stepped away from Thorne to look at him, to enjoy the silver light of his aura. She hadn’t seen him since his own obsidian power had emerged so many months ago. He lifted his arms wide and turned in a circle. “This feels like heaven.”

  Grace’s headache worsened so that she half fell, half collapsed to a sitting position on the sawdust that covered the event grounds. Leto immediately dropped to his knees beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  “My head. It really hurts.”

  “Gideon,” Leto called out sharply. “Get one of the healers over here. Now.”

  “You’re barking,” she said. She turned her head slightly and looked up at him, offering him a smile.

  “You deserve a bark or two. You’re scaring me.”

  “It’s just a headache, but it was so sudden. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Marguerite looked down at her. “I do. You need Leto to bust open your obsidian flame power. It’s no picnic to get it opened up, though.” She glanced up at Thorne, whose glowing skin was finally settling down. “But it has its perks.”

  When Thorne’s eyes fell to half-mast and he once more cuddled with Marguerite, Grace looked away. The sight of her brother so much in love warmed her heart, but her head still really hurt.

  Thank goodness the healer arrived. The woman dropped to her knees and asked Grace to describe the pain. When Grace told her, the healer put her hands just above Grace’s head; the result was almost instantaneous. Soothing waves of healing warmth began to flow through her mind, and the pain drifted away. Her lungs opened fully and she breathed deep.