Obsidian Flame (Guardians of Ascension #5)(18)
Author: Caris Roane

Great. He had eight dead death vampires, one stubborn teen, and no way to dispose of them. Shit.

“We’ll cremate them.” Diallo’s voice reached through the dark night. “On a pyre.”

Thorne turned to his left. Diallo drew near, his braids heavy on his shoulders.

Thorne nodded. He brought his phone back up to his ear. “Belay that order, Jeannie. We’re making other arrangements.”

Her voice dropped. “When are you coming home?”

He stared at the ground. Well, that was the big question, wasn’t it: When was he coming home? He wished he could fold back to Second Earth right now and get back to his real job, to leading the Warriors of the Blood, to serving Endelle. But he couldn’t and something deep in his chest told him it wasn’t just that Marguerite was vulnerable, or that he’d just discovered a secret colony, or even that the colony had been attacked by death vampires and needed his protection. No, the real reason went deeper and had something to do with Endelle herself, but like hell he was going to grapple with those issues right now. “I don’t know. Gotta go. Take care.”

He didn’t wait to hear a good-bye or anything else she might want to say to him. He was torn and didn’t want to feel any more guilt about his desertion than he already did.

He slid his thumb across the card’s strip, ending the call, and returned it to his pocket.

Arthur gained his feet and walked around kicking his leg out, testing the recently healed cut.

“This is a terrible night,” Diallo said. He had a very deep rich voice, a voice people would listen to.

He closed his eyes and within less than a minute several men began running in Diallo’s direction. Apparently, he’d just sent out a telepathic summons to several people at once.

Interesting.

Who the hell was this man?

He looked past Diallo then looked around. “Where’s Marguerite?”

Diallo met his gaze squarely. “I’ve given her a cabin, the one over there.” He turned slightly and gestured with an elegant sweep of his arm. “The one with the planter by the front post, with the arched lattice frame over the walkway.” It was about thirty yards from the battle site.

“Thank you.” Jesus, he had so many questions, but the most critical one rose to the surface. “Through Marguerite, I saw the vision of this event and also the sense that this colony is a refuge for Seers. Is this true?”

Diallo nodded. “Yes, we have Seers here from all over Second Earth. And yes, we protect them.”

“But you understand the larger implication?”

Diallo drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His expression grew thoughtful as though he was searching to find exactly what he either could say or needed to say. “Yes. That a very powerful entity has discovered our location with the intention of securing some of our Seers.” He lifted his chin slightly. “With the exception of your woman, there is only one Seer powerful enough to disrupt the mist that protects this colony, or to overcome the blocks that we’ve had in place for centuries in the future streams.”

“Owen Stannett,” Thorne murmured.

He was the monster who had, up until three weeks ago, been the High Administrator of the Superstition Mountain Seers Fortress. He’d tried to rape Marguerite for the purpose of impregnating her. The bastard was intent on creating a super-race of Seers. He’d already raped a number of the Superstition Seers and fathered children by them. Looked like he was still intent on collecting Seers even though he’d gone rogue on Mortal Earth.

“Precisely.”

Thorne held his gaze. “Then you’re familiar with recent events on Second, in particular with regard to the Superstition Seers Fortress?”

Diallo offered a faint smile. “We know all that happens, Warrior Thorne. We’re a hidden colony, not an ignorant one.”

“I meant no offense.”

A number of men drew near.

“Warrior Thorne,” Diallo began in his most carrying voice, which resulted in a shocked murmur among the approaching villagers. “I wish to thank you for this service tonight and to welcome you to our colony. We’ll talk tomorrow and I will answer all of your questions then. Arthur and I will tend to the dead. For now, you may have use of the cabin for as long as you wish. Y pro nai-y-stae.”

Thorne smiled. It was an old expression that essentially meant “You may stay for eternity.” “That’s very kind of you.”

As he started to move in the direction of the cabin, the hairs on his nape moved ever so slightly. He turned back to the forest. Arthur did as well.

But his senses settled down almost as quickly. Whatever had been there was gone now.

Arthur met his gaze. “Stannett?”

“Maybe. Wish the bastard would show his face.”

“Heard he got a bunch of his Seers pregnant.”

“All part of his plan to create a super-race.”

“Prick,” Arthur muttered.

“Couldn’t have said it better.”

“Arthur,” Diallo called out, waving him forward.

Arthur turned toward Thorne and held out his hand. “I’m glad to have met you. If you have some time tomorrow, maybe you could show me a couple of your moves.”

“You got it. Just hunt me down.”

Arthur turned abruptly and joined the work detail. When the villagers headed in a westerly direction, Thorne finally made his way across the lane.

Vegetable gardens grew at either the side or the back of every house, lush gardens that shouldn’t have been growing like this in late March, so high in the mountains. But these were ascenders, and no doubt a few weather modifications had been put in place to keep the colonists well fed and self-reliant.

A light glowed from within the cabin. Thorne’s heart began doing its jackhammer routine because he was going to see Marguerite again, the woman he’d begun to crave like wildfire.

She stood leaning against the doorjamb behind a screen door, her arms folded across her chest. “So how many were there?”

“Eight.”

“You kill them all yourself?”

He glanced back. If she had tried to watch the battle, her view across the street was blocked by a thriving garden. The one up the street would have required she step out on the porch. Marguerite was many things, but she wasn’t foolish.

He shook his head in response to her question. “I took three. Arthur handled five.”

“That kid?” she cried.

He smiled. “Are you going to let me in?”