by Caris Roane
Jean-Pierre drew up next to Santiago. He held a cue stick in his hand, his long elegant fingers wrapped around the narrow wood. He was an aristocrat in even the grace of his hands.
Endelle stood a foot from him, her wooded eyes dark, her arched brows sitting low, a restlessness to the air surrounding her, impatient as always. We haven’t got all day screamed from every pore of her body.
Kerrick stood to the left of the pool table, his enormous wings fluttering slightly at the tips, his gaze never leaving her face.
Alison had the strangest feeling, a familiar odd déjà vu sense that she had been here before and would be here again and again, that her destiny, which had been birthed at the medical complex, was being thrown into the stratosphere right here, right now. She had thought that to ascend was everything, the be-all and end-all. She had been wrong. She had only understood her place a few minutes ago in her CO’s office, which also meant she was beginning to understand that her arrival on Second Earth had ramped up the war.
She squared her shoulders. “I know now why the Commander wants me dead.”
Endelle snorted. “We all know why. You have too much fucking power.”
“Yes, but what purpose does that power serve?”
She saw it all so clearly. The revelation came from her dreams, from the deepest parts of her subconscious, from the mysteries well beyond the human rational mind.
She recalled the beauty of staring up into the Third Dimension, of seeing that world open to her, of being painfully drawn to Third Earth but unable to get there. She recalled the pull of the lake, the need to protect the lake.
She stared at Madame Endelle, drew in a long deep breath, moved to the edge of the pool table, and dove straight in: “One day, a few years from now, I open the Trough to Third Earth.”
First, a long combined intake of breath, and then silence—heavy, weighted, fearsome silence. A tomb, sealed for a thousand years, could not have been quieter than the Cave.
Endelle’s jaw went slack.
Kerrick’s green eyes shone with admiration.
The rest of the warriors stared, first at her then at one another; then almost as a unit they turned to look at Endelle. Waiting.
Alison shifted her gaze to Kerrick to see how her announcement had affected him, wondering if he would think she’d suddenly gone insane. How shocked she was to see the certainty in his eye as he nodded once to her. He showed a level of trust and confidence that she had not seen in him before.
She felt buoyed to continue, to explain her meaning, and faced Madame Endelle once more. “I’ve dreamed repeatedly of White Lake, as well as the Trough and Third Earth, every night since my rite of ascension began. When I dream, I’m always dressed in warrior flight gear and I’m flying over the lake at full-mount. Though I can’t explain how I know my purpose, I just do.” She pressed a fist to her chest. “Here. And this is why Darian, the Commander, wants me dead.”
Endelle blinked only once as she stared at Alison. She finally looked away and started to pace. Her brow had dipped low, and sparks flew from her body as though she could not contain the energy of her thoughts. Back and forth she paced in front of the mountain of her Warriors of the Blood.
“Passage to Third Earth. Shit. Holy shit. Holy, holy shit.” She stopped in front of Alison. “Don’t fuck with me, ascender. You’d better be damn certain about this. No doubts, questions, not even a glimmer of What the hell am I saying?”
Alison shook her head. “Not even a little” came as a whisper from her throat.
But the moment the words left her lips, a deep sinking sensation invaded her heart, forged not from doubt but rather from certainty, profound, raw, overwhelming certainty. She was the instrument by which the pathway to Third would be opened and her life had just gotten harder, a lot harder. She dropped to her knees then buried her face in her hands. She was overcome, and tears flooded through her fingers.
How long she remained there, she didn’t know, but to her surprise she felt cool hands take hold of hers. She lifted her gaze and met Endelle’s ancient wooded eyes. The Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth folded a dry cloth into her hand and wiped Alison’s cheeks, nose, and chin.
Alison looked into Endelle’s face, so full of miraculous understanding and compassion, those qualities that ordinarily escaped Her Supremeness.
Endelle nodded. “The responsibility just ground you into the dust, didn’t it?”
Alison’s lip quivered. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I remember this day in my own life some nine thousand years ago. I thought about slitting my wrists.”
“Oh, God.”
“If you had been flippant, I would have put my foot on your neck again. But this, seeing the devastation in your eyes? Yeah, you’ve convinced me of the truth of the situation. But holy shit, Alison, opening the Trough to fucking Third. That’s major shit.”
Endelle, the toughest, meanest bitch ever born, gathered her into her arms and held her. Welcome to my world, she sent.
* * *
Thorne couldn’t keep his feet from moving backward. He didn’t stop until his ass hit the pool table. He stared at a fucking nightmare, Endelle on her knees and the newly created ascender proclaiming that she was the vessel by which Third Earth would be opened to Second.
He wanted his Ketel ice-cold and burning down his throat.
Did no one understand, like he did, what this meant? That a new log, the size of an eighteen-wheeler, had just been dumped on top of this burning heap of a bonfire called war?
He scrubbed his hand down his face. He had hoped that Alison’s powers would have brought an alignment meant to ease the stress on the warriors, on Endelle, on him, but didn’t anyone else get that Darian Greaves would escalate, not fall back?
Thorne needed to get to the Convent, to get to his refuge, but new pain beat at him, for he knew, he knew, that the woman he protected would soon be dragged into the war.
Goddammit.
* * *
Kerrick took deep breaths, expanding his lungs to their fullest. Pride flowed through him, admiration, full-on lust. God, he loved this woman, and love held him in a state of euphoria, of a decision made, of hope wrestled to the ground, of possibilities, of a future with Alison.
The tide carried the past out to sea. He turned his face to the shore for the first time in two hundred years. Alison was a new land, a new life, a promise of the future.
So she would, in time, be the one to bust through the Trough to Third.
Holy hell. His wings shimmied, a fluttering at the tips, a shiver down his spine.
He watched her with Endelle. He couldn’t remember seeing Her Supremeness show such tenderness before. Ever. What did this suggest for the future? One glance at his brothers told him they had the same thought. Wonder lit each face like they were looking at a flying pig.
Understanding whirled around him, a cyclone moving faster and faster. Alison had spoken the word guardian the first time she had told him of her dreams about White Lake. Had she been a man, he would have concluded she was meant to serve as a Warrior of the Blood. Certainly she had the power. She just didn’t have the heart. Besides, only males were guardians.
He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps twitched.
Guardian.
What if the concept needed to be expanded? But that would be such a break with tradition.
And yet, from the time Alison had answered her call to ascension, she had been an anomaly, the unexpected. She was his breh, something he had never expected to come to him, not when the breh-hedden was so rare. Yet here she was.
He drew in another deep breath because what he was about to propose went completely against all Second Earth traditions.
Dreams of White Lake? Now he would deliver the interpretation.
“Madame Endelle,” he said, the strength of his voice hitting the walls then bouncing back.
Endelle rose to her feet, Alison with her, both turning to look at him. Endelle plante
d her hands on her hips and scowled at him.
He moved to stand beside Alison. He took a couple of deep breaths. Endelle had the power to kick him from one end of the earth to the other without moving an inch. Needless to say, he was reluctant to open the door.
“Well, Warrior, what the fuck do you want?”
He prepared to get his ass kicked as he said, “I believe ascender Wells may be a Guardian of Ascension.”
She rolled her eyes and spoke in a voice that had idiot written all over it. “What the hell are you talking about? Or have you forgotten that guardians are both male and warriors, neither of which ascender Wells professes to be.”
Kerrick nodded. “She has dreamed of herself as a guardian, which is a primary indication that she should be granted a special dispensation.” He dipped his chin. “Consider. If you granted her guardian status, then COPASS would be honor-bound to bestow on her the rights of guardianship.”
Endelle’s brow puckered. “The rights of guardianship, which means Alison would have full protection from personal attack. Goddammit, Kerrick, you might actually have something here.” She shoved her hands into her long black hair at the temples. She blew the air from her cheeks and shook her head.
“What does this mean?” Alison asked.
“When COPASS was created at the turn of the twentieth century, one of the rules we put into place and to which Greaves agreed was that all private property held by either party could not be attacked. All the Guardians of Ascension as well as Greaves’s generals have this same right. We don’t attack their estates and they leave ours alone. In addition, the rule extends to personal attack. We stay away from them and except for conflicts at a Borderland or on Mortal Earth they stay the hell away from us. Any attack on a guardian, apart from conflict at a Borderland or on Mortal Earth, must be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Even Greaves doesn’t cross this line.”
“So wherever I am, on Second,” she said, “I would be safe?”
“As safe as is possible in this world and a thousand times safer than without the designation.”
Alison drew in a quick breath. She turned to Kerrick and sent, Then I have a chance, our daughter has a chance.
Kerrick nodded. He even smiled. Exactly, he sent.
“Well,” Endelle cried. “I have to say, Warrior Kerrick, that this is a goddamn brilliant strategy. Fucking brilliant. I congratulate you and I will see to this. COPASS owes me because of the attack on the palace and the Commander can just stick his dick in a meat grinder! Hah!”
Kerrick recoiled at the imagery, and more than one warrior hissed. On the other hand, for all the trouble Greaves had caused … well …
* * *
As hope soared, Alison trembled. She saw in Kerrick’s eyes a determination that had not been there before. She wanted to leave the rec room with him right now, and tell him of her change of heart, but there was still one more matter to be settled.
She turned to Her Supremeness. “Madame Endelle. Will you rescind my orders to train as a Militia Warrior?”
“And what would you suggest, ascender? With guardian status you could still serve as a Militia Warrior, since you’d be safe from attacks at the barracks.”
Alison met Endelle’s gaze. She saw the striated brown eyes and she had experienced the woman’s compassion. For nine thousand years, Endelle had carried her burden of authority and command alone. The woman needed a lot of help. She also needed to work on her anger management skills. Mostly, however, she thought it likely Endelle could use a friend.
Though she felt certain that the suggestion she was about to let fly was akin to inviting a scorpion to ride around on her shoulder, she said, “If it would please you, I would serve as your assistant.” Oh, God, had the words really left her mouth? She had a powerful prescience she would regret this most profoundly in the coming days, weeks, months, years, hell, decades … oh, God.
A slow smile spread over Endelle’s face as though she had also read Alison’s thoughts. Of course she had. Endelle said, “I think the punishment in this case fits the crime. I’ll let your CO know she can get back to business as usual while you, my lovely ascender, can show up to my fucking office tomorrow at eight AM sharp.” She glanced past her to Kerrick and looked him up and down, a lascivious light in her eyes. “If you can even walk by then.”
Alison kept the blush from her cheeks, but just barely. She had very much entered a new world, of warriors and vampires, of the ascended and flight-ready, of violence, profanity, and all sorts of sideways references to sex. Time to embrace it all, so she shrugged then said, “When was walking a significant problem on Second anyway?”
At that, the warriors burst out laughing.
Endelle nodded. “Well, well. There might be hope for you yet.” She lifted an arm then vanished.
The Cave remained silent for a long moment after she left.
Finally, Zacharius offered the most pertinent comment. “Was she wearing snakeskin?”
The myth of the breh-hedden
Alive in the hearts of lovers
Behold what is most precious
—Collected Poems, Beatrice of Fourth
CHAPTER 24
Kerrick took a deep breath and drew his wings back into his wing-locks. He knew one thing as he leveled his gaze on Alison—he’d be taking her to bed and completing the goddamn breh-hedden … tonight.
He was about to suggest they depart when Thorne caught his arm.
The leader of the Warriors of the Blood looked him square in the eye, nodded, and even managed a rough smile. “So this is it, man.”
Kerrick returned the smile. “Yeah.” He doubted his voice could get lower.
Thorne punched him in the arm then laughed. “We won’t be needing you tonight, just so you know.”
Kerrick started to protest since he could always join up later, but Thorne split his resonance. “No,” he stated in his I’m-the-fucking-boss voice, the one he rarely used, especially with Kerrick. “See you tomorrow.”
For some reason, Kerrick’s throat seized. He was headed down a new path, and Thorne would go to the Blood and Bite for one last drink before Central started burning his ear with death vamp movement. He didn’t know what possessed him, but he grabbed Thorne in a hard embrace and Thorne responded, holding on tight.
“You lucky sonofabitch,” Thorne shot over his ear.
Kerrick’s throat tightened up a little more and his eyes burned.
Christ.
Of course the moment ended about as fast as it began. Kerrick released him. Both men started clearing throats and nodding their heads in quick flurries.
Thorne’s gravel voice rattled the air between them. “You want a lift back to Scottsdale Two?”
Alison drew near, sliding her arm around Kerrick’s waist. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
“Actually,” Kerrick said, looking from one to the other. “I’ve got it.”
They both stared at him. Thorne’s eyes popped. “What the fuck? You can fold?” Of course this brought all the brothers’ attention in his direction, and within two seconds they’d formed a new arc around him.
“You can fold now?” Alison cried.
He nodded. He couldn’t stop grinning. He felt like a kid at a T-ball game who’d scored his first home run.
All the brothers pounded his back, his arms, his shoulders.
“That’s amazing,” Alison cried. “How? When did this happen?”
The warriors stopped to listen but his eyes were for her. “About the time that I decided I wasn’t going to live my life without you.”
He heard her quick intake of breath and saw her eyes shimmer with tears. “No crying,” he said, kissing her forehead. “There’s no crying in ascension.” Would she get the reference?
She chuckled. “A League of Their Own. I love that movie.”
His gaze locked with hers and he could smell a sudden gust of lavender. He breathed in, his nos
trils flaring, his eyes closing. Oh. God.
Thorne took the cue without having to be told. He ordered a full-scale assault on the Blood and Bite. The brothers cheered as they folded one after the other, each casting a raised fist of triumph in Kerrick’s direction before vanishing.
The sudden emptiness, the quiet in the room affected him. He loved the Brotherhood, the jibes, the cheers, the solid comfort of male bonding. He felt their presence even when gone. He looked around the beat-up hovel of a rec room, the flat-screen smashed and hanging at an angle, the ragged leather sofas, spit wads on the ceiling, the pool table that looked like roosting chickens would show up any minute, new bottles of Ketel One and Maker’s and all the other preferred drinks of the warriors, now spread out on the bar.
His brothers.
As he glanced down at Alison, he knew all that would change, from this moment forward. He would have two loyalties now, but the greater would be to this woman, to their child, to his family.
“So you can fold now,” Alison said once more.
He nodded. He eased her from his side to gather her into his arms. She rested her hands against his weapons harness and smiled up into his face. He searched her gaze. They were together and his heart was so full. “I want you to know I meant what I said—I won’t live my life without you, without our daughter. But those are my feelings, my wishes, my intentions. What are yours? Because as much as I long to be with you, I won’t force my will on you. I would never do that.”
As she put her hand on his cheek, her eyes glistened. “I want to be with you more than life itself and I refuse to live apart from you. So I have only one question I need to ask you.”
“And that would be?”
“Can you take me with you when you fold?”
He laughed. “I don’t know but I’m sure as hell willing to give it a try.”
“Then do it, Warrior.”
He nodded and with both arms holding Alison tight, he thought the thought.
He materialized a couple of seconds later next to his bed with Alison still in his arms. She sniffed twice then threw her arms around his neck and wept.
