Gates of Rapture (Guardians of Ascension #6)(54)
Author: Caris Roane

He watched Leto drop to his knees as he tended to a wounded colonist who was still breathing. He lifted up and called for a healer.

Casimir had enjoyed both men and women in his long life, and Leto was one of the finest-looking warriors he had ever seen. His eyes were an exquisite shade of blue and very intense, a heady combination. He was built, too. He would make a wonderful lover for Grace, for anyone really.

He kept out of the way and just watched him work. His view of life was so different now that what he began to feel for Leto wasn’t so much lust as it was respect. Leto deserved a woman like Grace, whose heart was pure and compassionate, who saw the best in everyone she met.

With a piercing sense of self-awareness, he knew Grace was with the man who deserved her.

He had made a promise to his boys that he would bring Grace back to them, but there had been a part of him still hoping that she would return as his breh. That was now over, especially because Patience had suddenly arrived in his life. Yet deep in his heart, he knew Grace would fulfill her promise to be a part of his sons’ lives. Just knowing that eased his heart.

The healer arrived and began taking care of the colonist. Leto moved on. Remaining invisible, Casimir trailed after him as he worked with three squads of Militia Warriors, hunting deep into the forest for death vampires.

* * *

Endelle stood before the mirror in her bedroom and unhooked the scorpion belt. She let it fall to the floor. She had just gotten word that the Seattle Colony had been attacked and that Seriffe and Thorne were sending her Militia Warriors after Greaves’s death vampires.

She opened her closet door and pulled out a black flight suit, nothing special. She waved a hand and with nine thousand years of experience switched outfits within the blink of an eye. She drew a leather piece from her closet, something she had never worn before, and for the first time in centuries there was absolutely nothing silly or absurd about this garment. She’d had it made about fifteen years ago when Greaves had started turning up the heat. She slid it on the old-fashioned way then buckled the belt in front and adjusted the side fittings. She felt for the dagger at her waist with a left-hand draw. She’d need her right hand for her sword if it came to that.

“You look perfect, Endelle. You were made to wear a weapons harness.”

She turned slowly. Braulio was there, that handsome bastard, standing near her bed. But she’d give him this, he wasn’t sporting his usual teasing come-fuck-me smile.

“I think this might be it,” she said.

Braulio nodded. He looked very serious, more than he ever had.

“So, you gonna tell me what you did to me?” She reached up and rubbed the ripple of scars over her neck.

“Not yet. But soon.”

She didn’t bother to argue. With the war ramping up, nothing else seemed to matter. Besides, Braulio wouldn’t tell her a damn thing until he was ready.

“I’m with you, Endelle,” he said. “I’ll be close by when you need me.”

“Are you talking future stream shit?”

He nodded.

“Fine. Whatever.”

He offered her half a smile, then just vanished.

She headed back to Thorne’s command center since she really wanted to see what was happening in the Seattle Colony.

So Greaves had finally figured out how to locate the hidden colonies. She had a feeling that Nazca and Seattle were just the beginning, and she suspected he meant to move fast. One more flank to cover.

Once at the center, she moved to stand in front of the largest central screen. A few seconds later, Thorne arrived with Grace on his arm. When he reached Endelle, he smiled down at Grace then kissed her on the cheek.

Jesus, he looked so different. He was a new man—but maybe that’s what happened to any man when he got laid on a solid, regular basis. Marguerite was good for him, and so was the breh-hedden.

When Thorne inclined his head to Endelle and took his seat in front of the same screen, Endelle said, “Thought I’d watch the action from here.”

Thorne tapped a few buttons and spoke softly into his com. “Donna, we’re ready to link up.” He waited for a moment. The screen suddenly came alive. “Thanks, we’ve got it.”

He shifted slightly and spoke to Endelle over his shoulder. “Once we had a visual at Apache Junction Two, which started up about ten minutes ago, we gathered two hundred squadrons and began folding them down to Mortal Earth.”

Endelle stood back and watched Thorne work. He was all business these days, more sure of himself, relaxed, willing to take criticism in the name of building a stronger administration and army, and still he battled at the Borderlands a few hours every night. “Just to stay fit,” he’d told her a couple of weeks ago.

She crossed her arms over her chest and took a couple of deep breaths. Her gaze was fixed to the back of his head. Yep, like an amputee watching a limb walk around by itself. She wondered if she’d ever get over the absence of the mind-link she had once shared with him.

Grace moved to stand off to Thorne’s left.

Endelle glanced at her. Grace stared back then sent, They were raping Diallo’s wife when I found her. She’d almost bled out by then.

Shit.

Exactly.

But you brought her out?

Grace nodded.

Endelle narrowed her eyes. How?

The explanation involved Grace’s obsidian power, the same power she’d employed to locate the attack at Nazca.

“Love that you can split into an apparition. Reminds me of my darkening work, although it sounds more powerful and more versatile, like you can go just about anywhere.”

Thorne was tapping away at the computer, and the next moment the screen split into four segments, each a live feed from the in-flight video crews that were flying over the colony.

To her infinite pleasure, the Thunder God Warriors were making mincemeat of a bunch of blue-skinned, black-winged sociopaths.

“Hot damn,” Thorne shouted. The room, which had a dozen techs on different monitors, burst into shouts and applause.

Endelle could see Militia Warriors engaging four-to-one against each death vamp. Militia Warriors were limited in that way—it was the rare warrior who could take on a death vamp by himself. Her Warriors of the Blood were the truly gifted and could battle as many as eight at a time. Luken, the biggest of her warriors, often battled nine or more on a regular basis. He was one fit brute.

But the squads of four Militia Warriors were brilliantly trained and took down the enemy like dominoes falling one after the other.

As new squads peeled off the colony’s landing platform, at least three Section Leaders were directing the action, speaking into their coms and aiming traffic as needed. Many of the squads headed south into the valley’s grain fields, but more and more of them were sent into the forest. Their activity would be difficult to track, but guerrilla work was part of the training.