by Caris Roane
Now the whole complex was locked down tight.
Once at the workout center, Marguerite waved to her from across the room.
Grace had missed her. Though they were opposites, a hundred years sharing a convent cell had created a warm bond. She would always consider Marguerite one of her closest friends.
Marguerite wore stretchy black pants and a crisp white maternity blouse. She was barefoot, leading with her belly, all full of Grace’s niece and nephew. Fiona was there as well in flats, jeans, and a tank. Her long chestnut hair was drawn into a ponytail. She looked beautiful.
“How pretty you look,” Marguerite said, holding her hands out to Grace.
She took them. “Thank you and so do you. Glowing, actually, although I have to say it’s still strange to see you with short blond hair.” For the ten decades Grace had been with Marguerite in the Convent, her hair had been very long and dark brown.
“So what happened with Alison earlier?” Fiona asked. “I know she helped me tremendously. What did you find out?”
Grace shared her experience.
Marguerite’s large brown eyes went very wide. “Any power?”
Grace shrugged. “That’s what I’m sensing. Any soul, any power.”
“Wow,” Fiona murmured.
Marguerite whistled then looked around. “Well, I guess this place is big enough for us to do some practicing.”
The room was huge, and Colonel Seriffe had cleared the space for them, moving all the machines and workout equipment to one side.
Grace laughed. “Well, l hope it’s big enough. I mean, what if we have enough combined power to blow the roof off?”
As if on cue, all three women looked straight up at an interlacing of steel girders, then back at one another. When Marguerite and Fiona laughed, Grace joined them, and something tight within her chest started to unwind.
“This seems so strange,” Fiona said. “Six months ago I was a blood slave. Now I’m here, with powers I’d never dreamed of.” Fiona could channel powers and enhance them at the same time. She could even be possessed by another person, which really enhanced the power level. She reached one hand toward Grace and one toward Marguerite. Even without touching their obsidian power flared.
Fiona jumped back and laughed. “There it is again, just like at the Seattle Colony.”
Grace rubbed her arms. “It’s always so strange. I wonder if we’ll ever get used to it.”
“Hey,” Marguerite said, her voice lowered almost conspiratorially. “Let’s try creating a circle like we did by accident before the warrior games. Remember?”
Grace nodded at the same time as Fiona. Grace put her hand on Fiona’s shoulder. Fiona did the same to Marguerite, and even without the circle being completed the vibrations were strong.
Marguerite’s dark brown eyes glittered with delight, which made Grace smile. Marguerite’s hand would close the circle but she aimed her fingers at Grace’s shoulder, holding back, then inch by inch crept toward her.
What a tease, but it helped to lighten the mood.
The moment contact was made, however, Grace flew backward, as did each of the women. Not far, but it was unsettling to sit up and watch Fiona do so as well. Marguerite had a little more trouble. She rolled to the side and pushed her heavy body up.
Once upright, Grace moved back toward the other women.
When they were together again and the same level of power surged even before they touched, Marguerite said, “I think we’re going to need Thorne here to anchor us. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to ask him to come over. Maybe he can get us started or something.”
“I totally agree,” Fiona said.
Grace nodded her acquiescence as well.
Marguerite strolled away, one hand touching her cheek as she moved. Grace could sense that she was communicating telepathically with Thorne. She even knew when the conversation ended.
When she turned back around, she called out, “He’ll be here shortly.”
Grace recalled seeing Thorne bent over the grid when she walked Alison to the landing platform. She wondered how he would feel about leaving his command center.
When Thorne arrived, Marguerite explained what had happened.
He glanced down at her belly. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look.”
His expression softened, and he dipped down to kiss her. When he rose back up, he was all business. “Okay, well I never quite understood my role, but it seems that I’m an anchor here, at least for now. Why don’t you try touching again, but I’ll keep a hand on Marguerite’s shoulder.”
Once more, Fiona began and connected with both Marguerite and Grace. The power vibrated among them like crazy.
“This is really something,” Thorne said.
Sure enough, as Grace put her hand on Marguerite’s shoulder, closing the circle, the power surged. But this time the excess traveled through Thorne.
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Grace asked. He was lit up and glowing with the most beautiful silver aura.
“Not at all. In fact it’s pleasant.” He nodded a couple of times and narrowed his eyes. “So, Leto told me that you have the ability to secure the powers of others by doing some soul diving. Do I have it right?”
“Yes.”
His silver aura began to diminish and soften, and finally disappeared. “All right, so how exactly do you think the process works then?”
But it was Marguerite who answered the question. “I think it means that when any of us experiences a profound intuition that something is wrong, like what happened at Nazca, then I look into the future streams. When I get a solid vision, the three of us can determine what power is needed to resolve whatever situation appears. Grace then learns the skill from whatever ascender would be best for acquiring the ability. She takes possession of Fiona because Fiona has the power to exponentially amplify any power. And that’s how we get the job done. But the amazing thing is you, Grace. If you can enter the soul of any individual in the entire world and you can learn any ability, then there is no real limit to what we can accomplish.”
And there it was, the identification of what this triad could do.
Grace thought for a moment, and let herself rest deeply within her obsidian power. She felt it vibrate softly. “If our ability as a triad to accomplish a task rests with me, then maybe we should practice exactly that: I should acquire an ability and we should apply it. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” Fiona said.
Marguerite nodded her assent.
“What power would you like to explore, then?”
Grace addressed Thorne. “I have an idea because I think it would make a great test. I’d like to acquire Leto’s ability with the sword. Then I’d like to possess Fiona and have her do battle with Jean-Pierre.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Have Jean-Pierre here as well as Leto. Because of the breh-bond, I think some of what we do will have to include the other men, don’t you agree?”
“You’re absolutely right, especially in these early stages.”
“What’s my role?” Marguerite asked. “I mean, if my job is to choose the task through the future streams, how do I fit in here?”
Grace tilted her head. “Actually, I think in order to really see what the triad can do, we need to be connected when I take possession of Fiona—we need to be functioning as a triad. I mean, I know that Fiona and I could do our parts alone, but I have a feeling that the triad adds something extra.”
An intuited consensus followed.
Grace contacted Leto and asked him to come to the workout center while Fiona did the same with Jean-Pierre. Because of the folding regulations, both warriors had to fold straight to the landing platforms then walk the considerable distance to the workout room.
When Leto and Jean-Pierre finally entered the room, Grace’s vision narrowed to a fine point focused exclusively on her breh. His hair was tight in the cadroen, which set his sharp a
ngled cheekbones in strong relief. He walked with a lethal athletic stride, and because he wore a snug T-shirt, her gaze drifted to his pecs. She blinked a couple of times and wished for a moment that she was alone with him.
Her heart rate soared at the sight of him. Because of the breh-hedden, she could feel the give in the black mats as he crossed toward her, the brush of his fingertips against the sides of his jeans, and the way the muscles of his face moved as he smiled crookedly at her.
Hello, beautiful, he sent.
She had only one real thought, that she wanted to be alone with him. “Hey,” she murmured when he drew near. She was a little embarrassed, but out of the corner of her eye she saw that Jean-Pierre was holding Fiona in a warm embrace and Thorne had taken Marguerite at least twenty feet away.
She wasn’t alone in what she was feeling.
Leto put his arms around her, and she put her hands on his chest. “So what’s this idea you have?” he asked.
“I want to acquire your swordsmanship.” She explained how the triad worked.
“You’ll enter my soul, acquire this ability, then take possession of Fiona.”
She nodded. “Yes, but we’ll be connected as a triad with Thorne anchoring the early part of the process. We thought it would be best if Jean-Pierre participated just in case we need some outside corralling of the sword battle.”
“If you take possession of Fiona, then you won’t exactly be in your body.”
“I think it will be like when I do an apparition-split. I’m in both places at once, just more present in the apparition form.”
“You made the right call,” he said. “Until the triad has everything worked out, I’m glad I’m here.”
After a few minutes, Marguerite and Thorne strolled back toward the group and Jean-Pierre released Fiona.
“Is everyone up to speed?” Thorne asked.
A series of assents went around the group. Grace then asked Leto to remain where he was; she would enter his soul before the triad fired up its power.
She took three deep breaths, closed her eyes, and entered his mind. His shields were already flat, a point of trust that warmed her heart as she began to fall deep into all that was Leto. She passed into his soul, and because her intention was fixed, her blue flame power forged a key and found the lock that contained his ability to use a sword.
All that experience and skill flowed through Grace. She flew up and out of Leto’s soul very fast and was suddenly within her own mind. Her arm felt different, her shoulders, her back. She could feel how her hand was ready to receive a sword.
She glanced at Jean-Pierre who smiled, showing his large gorgeous teeth. He held up a sword and tossed it to her.
Both Marguerite and Thorne gasped. Even Leto moved to intervene, but it was as though Grace had been a warrior for three millennia. She caught it by the grip and went through a variety of training motions, ones that had been passed down through generations of warriors.
When she was done, she faced the group. “This is astonishing.”
“Holy shit,” Leto said. “It certainly is.”
Then she smiled. “What amazes me the most is how the muscles of my arm just reach for the movements.” She stared at Leto for a long moment. “How much you must have loved this part of it—the training, then the use of your skill in battle when you fought the enemy.”
“Everything you’ve said is exactly right.”
Grace turned toward her obsidian sisters. She handed the sword to Fiona. “You’ll need this in a few seconds.”
Fiona swiped the blade through the air. Jean-Pierre wisely gave her some space, but he said in the lilt of his French accent, “How strange to think that I will be battling my breh.”
The moment of truth had arrived, the truth of exactly what obsidian flame could do. This was a very small test, to pit the triad against Jean-Pierre’s ability as a swordsman.
* * *
Of all three men, Leto had the smallest role in what was to unfold in the next few minutes. He drew his iPhone from the pocket of his jeans and backed up about thirty feet so that he could make a video of this first test run.
He felt the scowl on his face. He wasn’t thrilled that there was a sharp blade involved in this first venture. But he thought that might be because his woman would be near the battle. He didn’t like the idea of her getting accidentally hurt.
He watched the women join together, hands to shoulders. Even as far away as he was, he could feel their power expand suddenly, like a whip through the room.
He held the phone steady with both hands elevated at shoulder level. He could see events unfold. Grace’s neck arched, then she left the circle and began backing up and away, at a right angle to Leto’s position, and stood very still.
He shifted his gaze to Fiona. Her eyes were wide open and she had a gold aura as she turned toward Jean-Pierre. She held her sword in the ready position, her knees slightly bent, her chin down, her eyes up, both hands on the grip.
He had to remind himself to keep filming because all he really wanted to do was to watch the battle. What followed startled him. Fiona’s skills were at Warrior of the Blood level, a perfect reflection of his own ability as well as his centuries of training and use.
Jean-Pierre worked hard to keep up with her, and yet Leto had the sense that Fiona was holding back.
He shifted his gaze to both Marguerite and Grace, then he saw what he hoped the camera would pick up as well. Rivers of faint light flowed between the women, moving strands of blue, gold, and red.
Fiona—or was it Grace?—began to move faster and faster. She flew through the air with levitation power alone; she tumbled through exotic rolls and kept Jean-Pierre completely off balance. Her speed increased as the triad flexed its power, until at last she was a long blur of speed and Jean-Pierre finally stood still, his sword pointed toward the black mats.
The sound like the roaring of a wind rushed through the room—and then the moment ended. The blur that was Fiona stopped midair, arms outstretched as she floated back to the black mats.
The room fell silent. No one spoke.
Fiona touched down and walked toward her obsidian sisters. Leto saw when Grace returned to herself since her neck arched in the same way as when she left. She walked back in Marguerite and Fiona’s direction.
When they came together, they touched shoulders again and formed another circle. Power flowed once more. A vast beam of white light filled the space in front of each of them and flowed in a massive stream up to the ceiling.
Leto had to shade his eyes.
At last the light faded and the circle broke.
He stopped filming and returned to the triad.
Thorne glowed his silver aura.
As they spoke about their experiences, Leto confirmed what each said with his own observations. Thorne did as well. Because they had video, it was decided to return to the palace and watch the feed on the large screen.
When the video had been reviewed about ten times with Endelle, she summed it up succinctly. “Well, damn.”
Seduction comes in many forms.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
CHAPTER 10
Twenty-four hours had passed since Greaves had last seen Stannett. He entered the heart of the new Seers Fortress in Illinois Two, instead of Stannett’s private room. The surroundings were lovely: black marble on the ceiling, part of the walls and floors, black leather padding on the rest of the walls, a few dim inset lights around the perimeter to cast the inner sanctum in a nice glow. The Seers’ chaise longues were actually set in a lower level and reached by a flight of stairs at either end, almost like an orchestra pit. The viewing platform was quite large and finished with a fine polished mahogany.
Doors on either side of the inner sanctum led to an outer hall and the rest of the Seers palace.
From the platform, Greaves could watch Stannett and his bound Seers in action.
The chaise longues were arranged in a straight row, but each was tilt
ed ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. The concept behind the tilt was to keep the body slightly off balance and therefore the mind better focused.
Greaves moved to the edge of the stage and stared down into the pit. Stannett had his Seers strapped in place. His eyes were closed, and he had a sublime expression on his face. No doubt he had just filled his embroidered, red leather pants.
The vampire was hopeless.
“Stannett, we need to talk.”
The Seer opened his eyes. “Hello, Greaves.” He blinked rapidly several times. “I suppose you’d like an update.” He sat up, then glanced at the three women bound to his right and the three to his left. “None of them is conscious yet. The power we just shared has put each in a stupor. Not a bad place to be. At least, they’re not dead.”
Greaves glanced at the women and noted the dark brown skin. “From Mumbai?”
“Yes. Some of your most powerful Seers.”
“How long have you been working them?”
“Not long, about an hour. I allow them to rest for two afterward and make them drink lots of water. I’ve only had two die on me since last night.”
Greaves repressed a sigh. “And what have you discovered about our present difficulties?”
Stannett looked up at him wide-eyed. “Nothing yet. I have kept these early trial runs relegated to less strenuous matters.”
“You mean you’ve been hunting for future stream tail?”
“Well, yes. It seemed the most sensible way to get the women accustomed. I assure you, I haven’t been the only one enjoying the process. If you’d arrived earlier, you would have heard a great deal of delighted moaning.”
“And this is meant to reassure me?”
Greaves knew it was impossible for Stannett to comprehend the difficulties Greaves faced, but he began to suspect that the man was an idiot. Or if not a complete imbecile, then so given to his own pleasure that nothing else seemed to matter.
Greaves folded to his position in the pit. He put a finger beneath Stannett’s chin and used resonance. “Have I not told you how badly I need pure vision? That I must have the best possible information from moment to moment over the next several days?” He could feel Stannett tremble. “Why have you not done as I asked?”