Obsidian Flame

She sat at a small elevated table, her feet hooked on the lower rung of the tall bar stool. The club was noisy with feminine chatter but she could hear her new friends just fine.

She was just too tense and more than once thought about taking off. Earlier, Brynna had introduced her to Devon the stripper. What a hunk. He was tall—but not nearly as tall as Thorne—he had reddish bronze hair that hung in waves just to his shoulders, his eyes were a vivid blue, and his proportions, from broad muscular shoulders, to narrow hips, to lean thighs, took her breath away.

He had even taken her hand and squeezed her fingers. He’d sent, I’m yours. Just say the word. Right after my performance, if you’re willing

She was so freaking tempted. Ever since she’d left Second Earth, her hormones had been in overdrive.

But what about Thorne?

He was nearby, cloaked in mist, and holding up a wall like he’d done in El Paso One. Jane couldn’t see him but Brynna could. She scowled because of it. “He looks mad,” she whispered, leaning close. “Are you sure he’s not going to tear the building down?”

“Don’t worry. We have an understanding.” Sort of.

Brynna shrugged. “Your funeral,” she said, but she smiled, if a little sloppily. Brynna had been drinking vodka tonics and now had two empty glasses in front of her and a third she’d almost finished.

Yeah, maybe it was her funeral. It was certainly her agony. Thorne had listened in on Devon’s offer, but he hadn’t said anything. She had expected a quip or two like, He’s so short, just six feet or His hair smells like some kind of pansy-ass perfumed gel. Instead, he was as somber as when he’d picked her up off the grass earlier.

Brynna interrupted her thoughts. “So is there anything you want to ask us about our Seer methods?” She covered her mouth and barely disguised a burp.

Marguerite stared at her cosmo. She didn’t mind the diversion from Thorne’s dour presence. “Well, why have I never heard about this group Seer stuff before?”

Brynna laughed. “Actually, it’s not done on Second Earth, at least not that we know of. This was something that developed over time. Diallo encouraged us to give it a try, and it took quite a few decades to perfect.”

“So how does it work? Is it kind of like meditation or something?”

Brynna slid her fingers into the side of her hair and leaned her elbow on the table. “Kind of like a meditation, but more like a reaching out telepathically until we all meet in the middle.”

“Sounds interesting.” Truth? She was a little bored. She had no plans to continue her Seer work. She didn’t really need to on Mortal Earth. She could certainly handle bar-hopping without having to dip into the future streams to figure out who her next lay would be.

“You don’t really seem into your Seer self,” Jane said, but she was smiling.

“Not too much. I just never really saw the point of it all except as another form of slavery. I mean, what good has it done the colony? Have you ever thwarted attacks or civil unrest?”

Both women laughed, but Jane glanced in the direction of the stage then at her watch. “Five more minutes.” She sat up a little straighter.

“I’ve been working the future streams for about two centuries now,” Brynna said, “and I’ve learned that I can focus on certain kinds of events and on neighboring colonies to see if issues might surface that Diallo’s council of elders can begin addressing before bad things happen. For instance, we had a series of floods in the early nineteen hundreds that wiped out a whole bunch of farms. We worked together and formed a strong enough vision to warn the inhabitants of that area so that no lives were lost. Diallo and the council set up a relief program for flood victims way in advance. A lot of machinery, furniture, and livestock were saved.” She lifted her tumbler to her lips and finished her drink. She waved to the waitress then pointed at her empty glass.

Marguerite was surprised. “That’s the first time I’ve heard of the future streams being used for good. Stannett was all about gaining more power, securing his fortune and his safety, but this actually makes some sense. Although I know for sure that if I worked for Endelle, she’d mostly want information about Greaves and his plans.” A big whatever.

Marguerite glanced from Jane to Brynna. “So mostly, you’re about helping the colony.”

“And each other,” Jane said.

The women looked at each other and laughed. Shared secrets maybe.

The general good humor and camaraderie that flowed between the two women reminded her of her relationship with Grace. And for the first time, she realized she missed her cellmate, really missed her. She even missed Fiona, which was a surprise. She would never have believed that one day she’d actually care about her female friendships—or any friendship really.

Brynna glanced in Thorne’s direction and shook her head. “Any more like him at home?”

“A bunch more,” Marguerite said, smiling.

She opened her mouth to give a fine recounting of the warriors she’d met, but suddenly the music hit the loudspeakers, the lights dimmed, and the stage spots began to flash in every color imaginable, moving wildly across midnight-blue velvet drapes that created a strong backdrop for the performers.

Jane, who sat on Marguerite’s right, leaned close and all but shouted, “You’re gonna love this.”

Devon appeared in flash of smoke, no doubt having folded to the center of the stage as soon as the smoke popped.

He wore some kind of shiny gold jumpsuit and he held in his hand a matching space helmet with two really stupid-looking antennae sticking out of the top. Was that duct tape holding them in place?

The first thing he did was lose the helmet, sending it in a whirling sideways spin across the smooth black tile of the stage floor, a trick that for some reason made the women go wild.

Jane was the first one to leave her tall stool. She whipped past Marguerite so fast that she brought a kind of wind flowing along behind her.

It wasn’t long before Brynna abandoned her perch as well, heading for the edge of the stage, especially since Devon wasn’t wasting any time. He was already bared to the waist and swinging his spacesuit jacket around as he gyrated his hips in a mind-bending circle.

She glanced at Thorne, wondering if he intended to start badgering her, but his gaze was on the floor at his feet, even more somber than before.

Thorne? she sent. Now she was just worried.

He turned in her direction and finally just gave her a lopsided smile. Have fun.

He lifted his arm and was gone.

Marguerite set her cosmo down; otherwise she was sure she would have just dropped it. Thorne leaving was the last thing she’d expected to happen this evening.

She glanced in Devon’s direction.

By now her Seer-mates were at the side of the stage screaming their guts out.

She knew only one thing, this wasn’t for her, not tonight, not with her man giving her so much space and being so damn mature about the whole thing.

She sent Brynna a telepathic message: Hey, I’m heading home.

She didn’t know if Brynna could possibly “hear” her given the show that now involved a hunky man in a G-string pumping his hips right in front of her.

But Brynna turned around and winked at her.

Marguerite smiled as she lifted her arm, thought the thought, and folded out of the club.

From the archives, only one reference to the extraordinary myth of obsidian flame exists and it is as follows, “Intuitive vision is the defining attribute of obsidian flame.”

—Treatise on Ascension, Philippe Reynard

Chapter 10

When she arrived back at Diallo’s home, it took her a minute to find Thorne. He was reclining on the couch in the expansive front room. He wore a white tank and jeans. He was barefoot. If she hadn’t been feeling so worn out from all her guilt and indecision, she might have savored how he looked.

His arms were crossed over his chest.

A single oil lamp glowed dimly across the room.

He turned to look at her. “You left?”

He seemed neither surprised nor particularly interested.

“Yes.”

He nodded and stared in the direction of the window. “Get some rest and just so you know, I’m headed back to Second Earth tomorrow. You can come with, you’ll always be welcome, but I’m done following you around.”

“Good. You should go back.”

At that, he sat up, swinging his legs to plant his feet on the floor. “So that’s it?”

She sighed, feeling dull inside. She found herself chewing on the inside of her lip; it seemed funny to her because it was more something Grace would do than something she ever did. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.”

“Why did you come back tonight then, if you don’t give a flying fuck?”

She laughed and threw her hands out in front of her. “I don’t know. It seemed like a point of honor. I’m not a bad person, Thorne. I just…”

“You just want your freedom.”

He settled back against the cushions. “I get it. I’ll be gone tomorrow, although I hope you’ll stick around in this colony, under Diallo’s protection, until you get this damn vision thing sorted out. As for myself, I’m feeling the pull back to Second. I’m needed there. I have a big job to do. I’m just starting to get that, so yeah. I’m leaving.”

Marguerite’s throat felt really tight. Were they actually saying good-bye? She nodded several times. “I … I think I want a hot shower.”

She didn’t wait to hear him say one more thing. Besides that, her eyes were burning again, which they seemed to be doing a lot lately. She lifted her arm and folded straight to their shared bedroom.

She took her shower and the warm water soothed her. She was a bit of a mess. Her muscles kind of ached, and there was this constant dull throbbing in the center of her brain, and now her heart hung like a sack of sand in the middle of her chest.

After the water turned cold, she hopped out of the shower, toweled off, and decided there was one thing she did want right now. She wanted to sit next to Thorne, really close, kind of draped over him so that she could press her ear to his chest and just listen to his heartbeat. She’d done that a few times after their more brisk lovemaking sessions when she was in the Convent. She’d always loved it.