by Sasha White
“What happens once a section of grid is destroyed? Does it get repaired?”
“Yep, with crews dedicated to clean-up and others to restoring grid walls. All Third Earth shit, developed centuries ago. You were just lucky that Greaves didn’t catch wind of it but even Chustaffus knew not to encourage that beast.”
“Chustaffus?” A chill shot through Vela, her instincts shouting at her that here was the real enemy.
“The reigning Prince of Darkness. Sort of. He’s never been able to solidify control. But then, I’m not sure control is even what he wants. I used to think it was, but he has a perverted love of chaos. The more he can create, the happier he is.”
“So we were being pursued deliberately.” Samuel rocked on his heels.
The next smoke plume blew in Samuel’s direction. “Do you honestly think it was anything else? From what you’ve told me, the wreckers already had wind of you and had put a trace on Vela’s darkening aura. The moment she returned into the tunnel grid, the trace would have alerted the specific faction’s crew that went after you both.
“But what I really want to know is how the two of you found me. You shouldn’t have been able to.”
Samuel shifted in Vela’s direction, his brow furrowed. “Vela has some kind of built-in guidance system that takes her through the grid. Wouldn’t you say that’s right?”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
Merl whistled. Glancing from one to the other, his gaze finally landed on Samuel. “Well, though I’m reluctant to give you any cred at all, you’ve got some serious chops, and you’ve the temper of a Warrior of the Blood, even a Third Warrior. But what I don’t get is where the hell did this power come from? How did it develop? This is Third Earth warrior shit, yet you’re still very much a Second ascender. So, exactly how long have you been releasing this badass mist?”
Vela sensed Samuel’s thoughts shift, a kind of sliding into the dark experiences of his past. His molars moved against each other and his gaze slanted away from Merl. But he spoke of the torture, a few clipped sentences, ending with, “When Duncan found me in Honduras, he basically helped me to escape. I’d been experiencing a growth in power, but that day, it rose unexpectedly, streams of it that I couldn’t control, and I slaughtered those around me, all except Duncan who’d heard me shout at him to get the hell out of there. I didn’t even have a warning it was coming.”
Merl scowled. “Grayle power can be like that, especially when it first arrives. Most warriors have signs of it long before the initial release and a mentor helps control the process. The problem is, no two grayle powers are exactly alike and sometimes bad things happen, like what happened to you.”
“Can those streams be controlled?” Samuel held his breath.
“You have to learn how to access them first.”
Samuel shook his head. “I have no idea how to do that and believe me I’ve tried.”
“Be patient. It’ll come. But can I ask you if you ever saw your torturer?”
“Yes, though I never heard his name spoken. He was a tall motherfucker, built warrior big, finely trimmed goatee, long, thick black hair, black eyes. He wore three braids on each side of his head, the whole mass clipped back. Sound like someone you know?”
Merl stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray at his elbow. Sometimes he used the ashtrays and at other times, he’d fold the lit cigarettes away. He dropped his head in his hands. “Shit.”
“All right,” Vela said, “Who the hell is he?”
“Sharav. One of Chustaffus’s minions. Well at least now I can frame this, make sense of it. You were essentially in the hands of a madman.”
Samuel snorted. “Hell, I could have told you that. He spent a lot of time hurting my wing-locks.”
Vela shuddered.
But Merl’s chin dipped a couple of times as he looked up at Samuel. “The grayle comes from the locks. Your boy was experimenting on you, trying to create what apparently he succeeded in creating.”
“A freak?”
Merl shook his head. “Sharav made a Third Earth Warrior from basic Second material. But it looks like his plan must have backfired.”
The pronouncement set a vibration in Vela’s bones as her gaze drifted to Samuel. Her instincts boiled, running at her with critical information, that his status as a Third Warrior had great significance in her world and that her darkening power, fully able to engage in Third Earth, meshed with his.
“And when did Sharav capture you?”
“Eleven years ago and I spent a decade in that hellhole.”
“Then they’ve been here awhile.”
“What does that mean?” Vela asked.
Merl met her gaze. “The only access through normal folding has to occur through the Gateway to Third Earth, the one that Warrior Leto now guards. Which means, that one or more of the factions has found a way, through the darkening, to move back and forth between dimensions with no one the wiser.”
Vela shifted in her seat. “Are you able to travel through the darkening?”
Merl once more shook his head. “When I lived on Third, I could, but not from this entrance point and believe me, I’ve tried. Once I set up this gate, I couldn’t go back.”
Vela glanced around his living room. The house looked settled, like it had been inhabited for a long time. The bookshelves opposite had papers stacked on them. A flat screen TV sat on a table by the wall to her left with three ashtrays lined up in front of it. The furniture resembled Danish modern from fifty-years-ago with a lot of light colored wood and simple lines. “So, who are you in this world, on Second Earth I mean?”
“I’m part of a small group of outcast Third Earth ascenders. I’m going to have to meet up with them in about a half-hour and talk over this turn of events. In the meantime, you’ll have to stay put. If you’ve been tagged, as I think you’ve been, spies here on Second will track your movements. Right now, you’re invisible and you should stay that way until I can get you more info.”
“One question,” Samuel asked. “If Sharav has been moving around on Second Earth, why hasn’t he come for me?”
Merl’s lips curved slowly. “Could be a dozen reasons but my guess is that he’s afraid of you on some level, maybe of that part of your power that he can’t control. Doesn’t mean he won’t kill you if he gets the chance.
“And you have to remember, he won’t want his presence on Second known. Any overt operation could blow his cover, which works in your favor. Trust me.”
Vela frowned. “But won’t they come back here, to your gate?”
“Unlikely. Your ability to see the gate is extremely rare and this part of the grid continues on like I don’t even exist. The best the darkening grid operators can do is look for anomalies and investigate. But the grid is so vast, some speculate it’s infinite.” He frowned before adding, “Now, who’s your mission contact, because I take it you discussed this with your superiors?”
“Madame Endelle.”
His eyes glinted. “She’s one tough hombre.” His gaze slid away, staring at nothing in particular. “God, I loved that whole Mardis Gras thing. If I was just a little older and had more essential power—” He broke off, giving himself a shake. “You should contact her and tell her that we’re here, we exist, and we apologize for not letting her know. She won’t like it, but we agreed early on that the only way we’d survive is to remain incognito.
“In the meantime, the kitchen is that way, as well as a guest suite that I’m turning over to you for the duration until this shitty mess gets sorted. My rooms are on the opposite side of the house. Just sayin’.” He jerked his head behind him. “When you talk to Endelle, block the communication then let her know that you’ll get back to her by midnight and yes I realize that’s six hours from now. But I promise that I’ll do what I can to help you get Warrior Duncan out of that cell before his time’s up. How does that sound? We good?” He rose from his chair and stubbed out his cigarette.
As Vela pressed her thoughts against Samuel�
��s mind, he turned abruptly in her direction. What do you think? Do you trust our host?
After a moment, he smiled, if ruefully. Yeah, I do, the bastard. To Merl, he said. “It’ll work.”
“Now grab a bite to eat, you two. You have a long night ahead of you on every possible front. Understood?”
“Got it,” Samuel said.
Vela rose as well.
By now, Merl’s smirk, and all his ridiculous flirting, had disappeared. “I’m heading to my rooms then I’ll be gone within the next fifteen-minutes or so.” He glanced at Samuel. “You’ll have the place to yourselves.” But the smirk made a reappearance just as he lifted his arm and vanished.
Vela’s mind took a couple of quick spins then landed on the one fact that put butterflies in her stomach: six hours alone with Samuel.
And the breh-hedden.
Of course, this reality completely overwhelmed her so she turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen as she called out, “I’ll see if I can find some stuff for sandwiches, okay?”
“Sandwiches sounds good.”
He wasn’t far behind, his thoughts apparently matching her own since his bitter chocolate scent suffused the air. She barely withheld a groan.
As she rounded the island, topped with a polished slab of light colored granite, she caught sight of a large picture window beyond. Though it was dark outside, her vampire vision, always adjusting, saw the vista as in a dim glow.
Crossing to the window, she said, “Look at this. Merl’s house is perched on a mountainside.” Pine trees framed the sides of the view, but the cliff dropped off to reveal an opposite forested ridge as well as a starry sky beyond.
“Incredible.”
Samuel drew up behind her, and settled his hands on her hips. “Why would he ever want to leave this place?”
“He wouldn’t. He must love it here.”
His thumbs kneaded her waist through her silk blouse. Without thinking she leaned into him and he surrounded her with his arms. The battle harness was stiff but she didn’t care. The sensation felt very familiar.
She’d been without a man for so long and now Samuel was here, the man who had saved Santiago at the Superstitions, who had been with her in the darkening and helped her to escape, who had wrestled Merl because of his jealousy.
His chocolate scent wafted over her nose, drifted inside, and began filtering through her brain. She felt dizzy and her body warmed up all over again.
“That scent of yours,” he whispered against her ear. “The sweetest flowers.” He groaned softly then released her. “I’m going to shower, fold some fresh clothes over here.”
“Right, right.”
She felt him leave, but didn’t turn to look. She was afraid she’d call him back and right now she wanted some space.
What was she doing? Another Militia Warrior?
Maybe she had emerging powers but did that really mean she should get all tangled up with a man whose job could hurt her again?
But knowing that he’d headed to the guest suite didn’t help. She put a hand to her stomach and worked at her breathing a little more as she tried not to picture Samuel out of his kilt and harness, stepping into the shower, that beautiful muscled body of his, the water flowing—”
Six hours alone with Samuel.
A guest suite.
A bed.
She forced her thoughts elsewhere and fortunately, she recalled that for the last hour, she’d essentially left Endelle hanging.
She thought about using her phone, but knew instinctively that would be a mistake. Her telepathy had considerable strength and given the circumstances, she thought what the hell.
She opened her mind to Endelle and just like that the woman was there. Where the hell have you been, ascender? I’ve been pacing my damn office for over half-an-hour. Jesus H. Christ.
Endelle, you need to shield this communication. Can you do that?
Can I do that? What millennium do you think this is? Five thousand BC? Fuck you.
Okay. Not good to question the abilities of an already agitated scorpion queen.
Vela felt Endelle’s shields lock into place and she released a deep sigh.
Okay, start talking, ascender.
I’m sorry, Madame Endelle, but we’re in deep shit, I mean trouble, over here.
‘Shit’ works fine. So spill the beans. What’s going on, and don’t hold anything back like I’m a nut-sack that can’t take pain, got it?
Understood. Vela explained their situation in detail, including everything she knew to-date about Merl.
Endelle was silent for a moment, then asked, So, what does this ascender look like? Did you get a look at his jewels? Is he hung? I might have to pay a call and check out the talent myself.
Vela leaned over, planting her elbows on the island, supporting her head with her hands. She chuckled. Havily had warned her about Endelle’s lack of filters, but she’d never experienced it like this before. Was Merl hung? Oh, dear, God.
As much as I’d like to share my observations with you about Merl Tuttle, I have a little problem. Samuel is already jealous, as in breh-hedden out-of-his-mind jealous, and if he knew I’d started describing this man in detail, I’d have hell to pay. Besides, rumor has it that you’ve got a boyfriend.
You mean that prick, Braulio? He shagged me four weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since. Not one word. Like he dropped off the face of the fucking dimensional world. Again. Asshole. But why the hell am I telling you this?
Vela heard Endelle’s concern, despite her invective, so she asked, Do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?
He’s a goddamn fucking Sixth ascender. The only kind of trouble he could get into is with his dick, so no, I don’t think he’s in trouble, unless of course he shows his face around here again, then I might just destroy all of Metro Phoenix Two making sure I roast his ass.
Note to self. Never mention Braulio again.
Okay, Vela sent. Got it. Anyway, Merl wants us to stick around. He has to talk to his fellow refugees to decide how to move forward.
Endelle fell silent and was so quiet that if Vela hadn’t known better, she would swear she’d ended the conversation. But Vela waited and finally Endelle said, Since you and Samuel trust him, and I have no way of knowing what he can do for you at this point, we’d better ride this mule. Just keep me informed.
Vela would have said a polite ‘yes, of course I will’ or maybe offered a ‘good-bye’, but a sudden break, that sent a brisk shard of pain striking the center of her brain, told her the telepathic call was over.
She took a few more deep breaths until the pain faded then turned to her sandwich idea only to find the fridge empty except for an old dehydrated pizza in a grease-stained box. There was also a quart of milk, but she’d rather shoot herself than do a sniff test.
She twisted her hair around her hand, looked at it, then folded a large clip into her hand. She secured the upper curly-wavy mass into the clip. The last thing she wanted was her ridiculous hair in her food.
Back to her task, she saw that plenty of beer lined the entire middle shelf, so she pulled out two bottles of Guinness, closed the door, then proceeded to fold food from her home fridge onto the counter; sour dough, sharp cheddar, ham, a ripe tomato, bell pepper and a stick of butter. She sliced the vegetables super thin, layered the meat, vegetables, and cheese on the bread, and with butter now sizzling in the large frying pan, started grilling three sets.
She smiled as she worked, sipping the brew between tasks. She remembered how much her husband liked these sandwiches, something she often fixed for him when he’d return from a night’s battling. Then he’d make love to her. What a good man he’d been, irritating at times as all men were, but he’d loved her and told her often. A woman didn’t need much more than that from her man, not really.
She put a finger gently beneath each eye and caught her tears, but she also realized that a year ago, she would have dropped to the floor sobbing all over again at what she’d lost.
Maybe the fifth year had finally softened the pain.
Maybe.
When she heard singing coming from way down the hall, she laughed. Samuel so could not carry a tune.
By the time the cheese had melted and the crust was grilled to a perfect golden color, Samuel walked into the kitchen. “You don’t know how good that smells. Oh, your hair looks nice like that. Pulled back.”
She turned with two plates in her hands and looked him up and down. He wore jeans and an olive green t-shirt, snug across his muscled shoulders and chest. He looked gorgeous, even down to his bare feet. She blinked a couple of times, then said, “Guess which one is yours.” She’d cut all three sandwiches in half, placed a half on her plate, and stacked the rest on his.
He reached out his hands and relieved her of the heavier plate, planted his butt on the closest stool, and started to eat.
His eyes kept rolling back in his head. “You’re a genius.” He repeated the compliment more than once.
Vela brought him his beer shaking her head. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in years, which reminded her not just of what he’d been through in the past decade but that he hadn’t had a woman in his life in a long time. Unless a man liked to cook, his fridge usually looked like Merl’s and take-out was the order of the day.
By the time he finished, he turned to her. “I’m sorry. I wolfed that down. It was just so good. But my God you can cook.”
She started to laugh and couldn’t seem to stop.
“What’s so funny?”
Between chuckles, she somehow managed to say, “I grilled you a couple of sandwiches. That’s all.”
He smiled as well. “What can I say. I usually order pizza.”
“That’s what I thought. Your pal, Merl, does the same.”
He glanced around at the plates. “What do you mean? There’s bread and a couple of tomatoes—”