Sensational Six: Action and Adventure in Sci Fi, Fantasy and Paranormal Romance

by Sasha White

  The woman lived on Third Earth and needed him desperately. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before, her auburn hair in a beautiful curly mass around her face, cascading past her shoulders, her complexion glowing and pale, and her voice like an angel.

  She told him that at exactly the right hour, he would rise from his bed and he would come to her, something he longed to do more than anything else in the world.

  She had told him something else as well: that Rachel must die…

  * * * * * * * * *

  A week later, Vela took a long look around at the exquisite Parisian opera house, an unusual and rather ornate place for a Warrior of the Blood induction ceremony. She sat in a box beside Madame Endelle, a place of honor, since all European Two royalty inhabited the remaining first tier boxes the entire distance from one side of the room to the other.

  Jewels glittered and each tux in the theater no doubt represented every famous Mortal Earth or Second designer in two dimensions. Samuel had chosen Hugo Boss, even though Greaves’s had favored him. All he’d said, while adjusting his white cuffs was that he intended to change the future. As simple as that. “Besides, why should Hugo Boss be punished for something that monster did?”

  She’d smiled as she smiled now.

  The experience had become far easier than she’d imagined because no one paid her the least attention. Why would they when she sat next to Endelle?

  The Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth wore a turquoise sequined gown cut to her navel and split up each thigh mid-hip. A necklace of chunks of white crystals weighed down her chest. But it was her headpiece that caught everyone’s eye: a massive crown of peacock feathers backed by white ostrich feathers.

  Vela loved it, the constant irreverence of Endelle’s absurd fashions, the way she basically said, ‘fuck off’ with every turn of her head, every hard laughing cast of her eye in the direction of a disapproving royal.

  “You love this, don’t you?” Vela asked.

  Endelle turned her head slowly, her strange wood-lined eyes meeting and holding Vela’s gaze. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’ve learned to make do in a way that keeps your head straight.”

  She nodded, the feathers sweeping back-and-forth with the slow movement. “You have some understanding then, because you called it exactly right. We’ll need their alliance in the future, these royals I mean. But I want you to see the truth, so watch what happens.” She waved her hand in the direction of the audience, a more formal turn of her wrist than Vela would have expected from her.

  Since all eyes were on Endelle anyway, a smattering of applause began, then more and more, until one after the other the audience rose to its feet, each person turned toward her, clapping vigorously.

  Vela admitted she was surprised, and making use of her newly gained powers, she extended her senses and felt the truth that Madame Endelle wanted her to know: these people loved her and valued her, despite her absurdity.

  Vela rose to her feet as well and added to the flow of admiration.

  After a good long minute, Endelle waved her hands, indicating the ruckus should stop, and just as the last sound of applause died away, the lights dimmed.

  “Endelle.”

  Vela turned and gasped.

  Braulio.

  “Well, where the fuck have you been?” Endelle asked, keeping her voice low as the orchestra conductor took his place in the pit.

  “I’m on my three-minute clock again, my sweet, on a new assignment and the council only allowed this one visit because I refused to take another step without at least talking to you.”

  “What’s going on?” Her voice much softer this time.

  He reached toward her and put his hand on her shoulder. Leaning down from behind her chair, he kissed her once, then met her gaze. “You probably already know since you’ve just felt the initial rumblings of trouble.” He glanced at Vela, then back.

  Endelle’s shoulders sank low. “Third is revving up.”

  “About ready to explode. We’re in it again, but be patient.”

  Endelle snorted. “Do I have a choice about this?”

  “No more than I do.”

  “You can’t stand up to the council?”

  His gaze shifted away.

  “That’s what I thought.” She sounded resigned.

  He kissed her again and Vela leaned away, trying to give them some privacy but the chairs were smack dab together.

  She focused on the film crews in three stations around the theater. When Endelle made mewling sounds, Vela concentrated on the beautiful mural of the Superstition Mountain monolith, with a starry night sky, that extended across the back of the stage. Apparently, Endelle had insisted that if she had to defer to those stick-up-their-butts that still called themselves European royalty in this modern age, then she wanted a mural of what she loved best about living in the desert.

  When at last he pulled back, he apologized to Vela for being so rude.

  To Endelle, he said, “I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.” He started to lift his arm, and as though just remembering, he narrowed his gaze at Endelle. “And you tell that asshole, Merl Tuttle, to stay away from you or by all Six dimensions, I’ll cut off his jewels and feed them down his throat.” Then he lifted his arm and vanished.

  Vela put a hand over her mouth. The imagery alone had left her shaken.

  She glanced at Endelle who blinked a couple of times then met Vela’s gaze. “Well, that was a surprise.” But a soft smile curved her lips.

  The conductor lifted his arms, baton in hand, and a full orchestra started playing Holtz’s ‘Mars’, a dynamic piece that reflected the extraordinary Warriors of the Blood.

  All the What-Bees were present under one roof. Vela might have been worried about security, but Colonel Seriffe and his staff had the event well-in-hand and with Sharav dead and the Illinois Seers palace destroyed, Vela had confidence in the safety around her.

  In addition, the women of obsidian flame, Fiona, Grace, and a very pregnant Marguerite, were on hand, ready to form their unusual triad of power. If any of the generals chose this night to attack, they’d be in for it.

  At all five Phoenix Metro Borderlands, Gideon had everything under control, having assigned twelve squads at each site. Though he battled at Warrior of the Blood level, both Luken and Seriffe wanted him to serve as Second-in-Command of the Militia Warriors, especially since, for the past year the Thunder God Warriors had served at the Borderlands in increasing numbers. And Gideon had always indicated his preference to remain at Apache Junction HQ.

  As the music swelled and one by one, the warriors took the stage, the audience began to applaud until once more everyone had gained their feet. Vela didn’t know which was louder: the applause or the music. Either way, chills ran up and down her arms and her heart filled with all the appreciation she felt for the sacrifices these men had made for centuries.

  Kerrick led the way, with Alison on his arm.

  Marcus followed with Havily.

  Antony Medichi with Parisa.

  Fiona, her pregnancy just announced, held tightly to Jean-Pierre’s arm.

  Thorne formed the apex at the top of the stage of the original nine, his arm around Marguerite’s waist.

  Leto came forward from the opposite side of the stage, Grace on his arm.

  Luken after him, with Warrior Zacharius and finally, Santiago.

  Wearing ceremonial black tunics, brass breastplates and capes with the right side flipped over the shoulder, the men looked like soldiers from ancient Rome. They wore a sleeker version of battle sandals, with silver moldings and tight shin-guards.

  Vela put a hand to her stomach and forced herself to breathe. The level of sheer preternatural power on the stage rolled over her, sending electric shocks through her system. She worked hard to keep tears tumbling down her cheeks, but they fell anyway.

  What critical roles each played in the ongoing fate of Second Earth, now even more so, given the existence of
an operational darkening grid that crossed the boundaries from Third to Second. Braulio’s comment had only confirmed what Vela already knew.

  Vela, can you hear me?

  Samuel’s voice sounded sharp and crystal clear within her mind. Yes, what’s going on?

  Vela smiled as she continued to applaud and occasionally stamp her feet as many of the appreciative guests were doing, despite the formality of the occasion.

  I want you with me, on stage. Simple as that and you can’t say no. The other warriors have their brehs with them.

  Vela gulped. But I don’t belong up there. I haven’t proven anything.

  Fuck that. You saved Duncan’s life.

  You did.

  We both helped and all the other women are here with their men. You don’t get a choice on this one. I want you with me and once I’m on stage, I will refuse to take any of the oaths until you’re beside me.

  The audience had started calling out something in a loud chant and it took Vela a few seconds to realize what they were saying. Even the orchestra had ceased playing because of it.

  ‘Samuel. Samuel,’ was being repeated over and over.

  Do you hear that? They’re calling for you.

  That can’t be. He sounded astonished.

  This is for you alone, Samuel. This is your moment to be honored for your sacrifices and for your commitment to service. And you have to remember that Marcus sent out a thousand press releases, detailing your part in Duncan’s rescue and about your grayle, Third Earth power. Like it or not, you’re a celebrity.

  A moment later, from the left side of the stage, Luken reappeared and waved at the crowd so that within a few seconds silence had fallen. But the energy among the spectators was as vibrant as ever so that the moment Luken said in a carrying voice, “I give you Samuel Daman, of Phoenix Two, our candidate for confirmation,” another round of applause swept the theater.

  When Samuel didn’t appear, Luken frowned and cocked his head as though listening. He nodded, clearly communicating telepathically with Samuel in the wings.

  Luken’s gaze then shifted to Vela and he held out his hand to her. All eyes shifted in her direction and the theater once more fell silent.

  Heat crept up Vela’s cheeks, just as Samuel’s voice entered her head again. I’ve made a decision, my love. I’m not doing this without you. We’re a team.

  Vela crumbled inside at his choice of words.

  We’re a team, she sent back.

  Because she knew Samuel so well, she understood the weight of these words, the depth of the meaning behind them. Samuel had gone it alone his entire life, now he was joining the Warriors of the Blood and he saw their relationship as a team effort.

  Endelle leaned over to her and said, “What are you waiting for, ascender? You’ve been called. Now, go.”

  Vela met Endelle’s wooded eyes and saw her compassion, the thing that always surprised her about Endelle, that beneath her outrageous exterior, and way beyond her profane mouth, resided a woman of tremendous compassion.

  Vela drew a deep breath and to Samuel, sent, I’m ready.

  Go to Luken now.

  Luken addressed the crowd once more. “We have a slight change of plans. Candidate Samuel wishes his breh, Vela Stillwell to join him on stage. Please welcome Ascender Stillwell.”

  One more fire-in-lungs breath and she simply levitated from her seat. Using a little added power, she kept her skirts of her gown fluttering close to her ankles as she moved swiftly to the stage, turning at the last moment to land beside Luken.

  The tank-like warrior smiled down at her and winked. She returned his smile and felt herself relax a little, though her heart pounded in her chest.

  The audience grew silent once more, expectant. Vela didn’t care that thousands of people stared at her. Most knew who she was because Marcus had built her up as well, including her unusual darkening ability, so that in a small way she had her own celebrity status.

  A certain degree of notoriety had come to her because of her darkening power, because of Duncan’s rescue, and of course because of Samuel’s elevation in rank.

  She was a target now, just like all the women bonded to Warriors of the Blood, but so be it. She had become a woman of power, something she’d never sought, but each day taught her more of what she possessed of strength and preternatural resources.

  Applause resounded once more, this time for her. She inclined her chin a couple of times, but beyond that, she grew very still, and turned to glance once more at Madame Endelle, the compassionate scorpion of Second Earth. The woman smiled and nodded, her peacock and ostrich feathers waving along with her.

  Suddenly, Endelle’s voice entered Vela’s mind. You did good, ascender. You did good.

  Warmth spilled through Vela’s heart. She marveled at all that had happened to bring her here, how hard she’d resisted her course, and how much she’d changed in just a handful of days. She valued Endelle’s approval, the woman who had laid down her life for nine millennia, also with great resistance and unwillingness, but who had done it just the same.

  She dipped her chin to Endelle, who dipped hers right back.

  Vela smiled once more

  Luken’s beautiful, resonant voice, addressed the audience one more. “Please join me in acknowledging the service of our candidate with warm applause as Warrior Samuel joins us.”

  The moment Samuel appeared from the shadows of the curtains, applause thundered through the ornate theater once more. He paused for a moment to acknowledge the appreciation that flowed toward him, for his service as a Militia Warrior and probably more for having endured a decade of imprisonment and torture by a Third entity. He offered a short, slow bow. The applause rose to a peak with this gesture, then settled back down to mere thunder once more.

  Samuel pivoted in Vela’s direction. Her own hands ached now from slamming them together with such force, but she didn’t care. Tears brimmed in her eyes as he came toward her. But he didn’t just take her arm, he took her in a warm embrace and to her mind sent, Oh, my darling Vela, how you saved me.

  Vela’s tears fell and more followed. You did the same for me.

  He held her for a long moment. When he finally released her, he took her arm, but kept her pinned to his side as he went through his induction.

  The ceremony that followed became a blur of speeches made by Luken and Marcus, of ritual responses given by all the warriors that sent a profound and beautiful array of deep masculine voices into the theater, of oaths to serve Second Earth with all his might for the rest of his years as a Warrior of the Blood.

  The ceremony concluded when Luken presented a new sword to Samuel, one that he took firmly by the grip. Holding it for a few long seconds, as the audience watched in silence, he forged the deadly identification signature.

  Once complete, he held the sword aloft and another cheer resounded through the theater.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Two days after the confirmation, Samuel held Vela’s hand and strolled beside her along a row of Scottsdale Two shops. One of them had caught Vela’s eye and she perused the window display, head bent, eyes wide and seeking.

  The door opened, a customer came out, and a familiar scent wafted beneath his nose arousing things that shouldn’t be aroused in a public arena.

  What the fuck?

  He glanced through the door and saw that the place sold, among other things, scented candles. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “You’re going inside?” Vela turned to him, blue eyes wide and hopeful.

  He smiled. “Yes, but let me do this alone. There’s something I want to see about.” He knew she would want to come with him; her eyes had that let’s-spend-some-money glint.

  But she nodded and he went straight to the candles. It took him a bare split-second to locate the one that came damn close to Vela’s scent. He lifted the lid of a candle in a jar and sniffed.

  He barely repressed a groan.

  He glanced at the label and smiled. He even c
huckled. But sniffing again, his pants shrunk. He liked this scent too damn much.

  Putting the round glass lid back on the jar, he tucked it beneath one arm, them gathered up a bunch of small candles, called tea-lights or something. The latter appeared to require individual glass holders so he grabbed a bunch of those, too. He took deep breaths and named the planets starting nearest the sun to try to calm down.

  By the time he’d paid for his purchases and made it outside, he held the bag up to Vela and said, “We have to go home. Now. Sorry.”

  She smiled, then sent, I guess we do because I can feel how your zipper is pressing into something that shouldn’t be that big at least not out here in front of God and everybody. That, and you smell like a chocolate bar, which I’m dying to take a bite out of.

  He growled softly, took hold of her arm, and folded her straight to his bedroom.

  She laughed as she sat down on the side of the bed. “Okay, warrior, what’s going on? And what on earth did you buy that got you so worked up?”

  Damnit, he was a Warrior of the Blood, and buying candles in a woman’s shop, just felt wrong. He handed her the bag and said, “Here. This is for you, or maybe for me. Maybe for both of us. Hell, I don’t know. Just take a look.”

  “Uh, thank you? And…why do you look so mad?”

  He rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the bag several times. “It’s just so damn girlie.”

  She opened it and pulled out the box of tea-lights. She sniffed, showed mild pleasure with a lift of her brows, then read the label. “Oh, sweet-peas. I know this flower. Everyone grew them on trellises when I was a kid.”

  She then lifted her gaze to him.

  He let her work it out, which made her laugh. “This is my scent. I smell like sweet-peas?”

  “Yes. You do.” But he wouldn’t say anything more. He wouldn’t say, You smell like sweet-peas, sweetheart. It was too fucking much.

  “Well, then,” she said, her scent rising to compete with his purchases. “We’ll have to do something about these candles.” He watched as she drew everything out of the bag. She opened the glass jar and set it on the night stand. She did the same for the tea-lights and the glass holders, placing them around the room.