Burning Skies (Guardians of Ascension #2)(48)
Author: Caris Roane

“Parisa,” she said, dragging air into her lungs. “Parisa Lovejoy.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Parisa Lovejoy. I’m Havily Morgan and this is Warrior Marcus Amargi, Second Earth, though lately of Mortal Earth.”

Parisa might have offered a word of welcome, but at that moment a man materialized several feet away from Warrior Marcus. He was tall and fierce-looking with long black hair and startling blue eyes. He wore the familiar warrior battle gear of black leather kilt, heavy black sandals, and weapons harness. She recognized him from her visions of four months ago, from Alison’s arena battle.

“Warrior Leto,” she said, stunned.

“Oh, my god,” Havily cried.

A second later, swords flashed into each hand and the sound of metal on metal rang through the small courtyard.

* * *

Crace stared down at the grid he’d just turned back on. He hated General Leto. He hated him in a way that made his eyes bulge and threaten to burst into flames.

Leto had sent a message to the forge, letting Crace know that he’d found the mortal-with-wings, but then he’d left the war room at exactly the same time, getting a head start on Crace. Several of the generals had confirmed Leto’s moves. According to witnesses, Leto had sent the message then dematerialized.

Crace knew exactly where he’d gone—in pursuit of the mortal-with-wings. He wanted the glory for himself, the chance to win favor with Greaves. Worse, when Crace realized Leto had folded and where he’d headed, he’d tried to follow after him but found his trace blocked. Blocked! Jesus H. Christ, Crace’s head was about to explode.

So Leto had gotten a head start then had deliberately switched the coordinates on the grid to throw him off the scent. Goddammit. Crace had made a tactical error trusting Leto, but he had a few tricks of his own. He tapped on the keyboard, and the grid returned to the former position. Yep, there was the location with four strong signatures. Four.

Only then, as Crace stared down at the glowing lights, did his temper calm down as his heart fired up. Adrenaline streaked through his chest and his pecs twitched. Three powerful ascenders were with the mortal woman, and the mortal woman was a dynamo of power, hence her signature. One of the signatures would of course belong to Leto, but what about the other two? Undoubtedly, Endelle had sent a Warrior of the Blood to protect the ascendiate, but was it possible the final signature belonged to a certain red-haired Liaison Officer?

Crace smiled. His biceps flexed and he swiveled his neck to give his spine a good crack. He closed his eyes and breathed in hard through his nose. Was she there, the woman he’d come to think of as his personal blood donor?

Goddamn, she sure as hell could be, since Endelle would have naturally sent a top Liaison Officer to tend to such a powerful ascendiate. Wouldn’t that just make his century if ascender Morgan was there? Holy shit.

He narrowed his gaze and determined exactly what he would do if his conjecture proved correct. He didn’t give a f**k about the mortal-with-wings or Greaves’s plans for world domination. He would fold to the location on the grid and if Havily Morgan was present, as he believed she was, then Leto could keep on fighting whatever warrior was there and he’d take care of the women. Hell, if he could get to both of them, well, that would be a cherry on top of this sundae.

He imprinted the coordinates into his brain, thought the thought, and the vibration began.

* * *

Havily couldn’t get Parisa calmed down enough to retract her wings. Her own heart rate had kicked up in response, which wasn’t helping.

She had ushered the mortal into the hallway, away from the courtyard and the battle of the two warriors, who had been clanging swords for the past few minutes. But they could still see and hear what was going on through the glass doors and windows. The whole time, she had talked quietly to Parisa and rubbed her arms and tried to get her to focus on her need to draw in her wings, but the woman couldn’t.

Not that Havily blamed her. First, two unknown beings had showed up in her patio, then a third arrived—General Leto—in full leather-kilt-and-harness battle gear and started fighting Marcus with a sword. Of course, the weird thing was that Parisa knew them all, even Leto. Nor did the mortal-with-wings seem at all surprised by the presence of swords and subsequent fighting.

Leto’s appearance, however, had reminded Havily that she needed to get Parisa to Second Earth, to Warrior Medichi’s protected villa, right now. The enemy knew their location and Leto had even shouted a warning that more would follow.

The rest she could deal with, as in why Parisa knew who she was and what potential significance there might be to the woman having royle wings. Wow, royle wings.

Okay … focus.

But until Parisa drew her wings in, she would be unable to have Jeannie fold them through the dimension. Wings were just too fragile to make the trip.

“Please try again,” Havily said. She even took Parisa’s hand this time and squeezed.

However, instead of making an effort, Parisa’s eyes widened as her gaze shifted to the courtyard and she gasped. Havily turned and couldn’t hold back a shriek of her own. There, beyond the warring men, was Crace, the death vampire who had attacked her in her town house, the monster who had taken her blood and wrecked her throat. He wore only a black leather kilt and battle sandals. He looked eerily pale—as he should, given his nature—and his dark hair hung uncombed almost to his shoulders. He was more monster now than High Administrator.

“Is he the one who drank from you?” Parisa cried.

Havily just looked at her. “You know about that?”

“I saw Warrior Medichi talking to you and comforting you.”

Havily nodded. “Yes, he is the one, and he is really dangerous. Parisa. We have to get out of here. Now.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Parisa cried. She shook now, head to foot. “I just can’t seem to make the wings retreat.”

“You have to stop looking and listening. Warrior Marcus will take care of General Leto and Crace.” But Parisa was wild-eyed, which was completely understandable. “Calm yourself down. Think of other things.”

Havily started shoving Parisa in the direction of the south-facing rooms, but Crace caught sight of them. His gaze, now lowered, was not in any way directed toward Parisa, but was fixed on Havily. She shuddered, for in that moment she understood his intent—and it had nothing to do with the woman in front of her.

Havily took a deep breath and turned toward Parisa. She took both her hands and looked into her eyes. “Okay,” she murmured. “Let’s try something else. Do you have a boyfriend, someone you can focus on?”