Obsidian Flame (Guardians of Ascension #5)(41)
Author: Caris Roane

But the sudden movement sent black spots flying before his eyes. He fell back on the bed.

He felt Grace’s hands on him again, and her rich, earthy meadow scent flooded his body with new drives, new cravings.

“Rest,” he heard her whisper.

He wanted to talk to her, but the room spun and all he could do was focus on his breathing. He really needed to get his shit together. But how?

* * *

That evening Marguerite ordered a cosmo and munched from a big bowl of popcorn in the center of the table. She seemed okay with the popcorn, but the cosmo was bugging her stomach. Yep, she had to admit, her nerves had gotten the better of her.

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.