Wings of Fire

Sleep, he sent.

Her eyes closed. Yes.

When Parisa awoke the second time, she had no way of knowing how long she had slept. The room was now pitch black, the torchlight having gone out. She thought it fitting. Why waste light on slaves?

She sighed. She listened hard. She heard Medichi breathing, long and regular. He was asleep. She had a moment of panic and almost spoke aloud to wake him then she thought better of it. Time to think, to make sense of her new reality, to let him rest, to figure this out. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t let this be the end and she didn’t want Antony to die because she’d allowed Rith to trick her … again.

From the first time she’d mounted her wings, from the time she’d felt that strange tingling in a V down her back, her life had been an odd series of experiences, like scattered glass pieces. She’d kept trying to put those bits together into a picture, but before she had time to finish, something would knock all the pieces out of the frame. She’d have to begin again, just like now.

This time, the glass pieces had arranged themselves according to Rith’s orchestrated pattern and she’d become something horrible, something she had never thought she would be—a blood slave.

The question was, what could she do about it?

Her analytical mind kicked into high gear. She was flat on her back, on a filthy, dusty floor, in a room without light of any kind. She had no idea where she was, which part of the world she was in, or even whether she was on Mortal or Second Earth.

At least both arms were free now, free to move the few inches up. She touched the field. For some reason, of all the things that had happened to her, feeling this field, which kept her imprisoned again, sent fury writhing through her, compressing her chest, swelling her neck, causing her throat to seize, especially since she wanted to scream but she wouldn’t, not when Antony needed his sleep.

After a long moment, when her heart had calmed back down, she drew deep calming breaths. It was time to think, not to freak out.

She had power, a lot of power, that much she understood. She had thrown a hand-blast at Endelle before she had even ascended, without even knowing what a hand-blast was. She had sent the Supreme High Administrator of all Second Earth flying over and behind her desk. She had done that.

All her life she had felt powerless. Now she had an abundance of it yet was still trapped. What on earth did this mean?

Something needed to change, something she didn’t understand, not yet.

She drew more deep breaths, one after the other. From what she understood, Alison had also ascended with a phenomenal amount of power, and she had created similar restraining energy fields during her arena battle with Leto.

Huh. Parisa began pushing at the field over her. She held her palm flat and released a small pulse of energy, a tiny hand-blast. Thank God she hadn’t gone full-bore because the energy caught on the field and traveled like lightning in a thousand directions at once above her, leaving her covered with small burns. She could smell singed fabric as well.

Okay, no hand-blasts.

She breathed some more, one breath then another.

She recalled being in Fiona’s hospital room with Havily and Alison. A sisterhood.

Never had Parisa felt as close to other women as in that moment. Their sufferings, their shared power, their difficulty with mate-bonding had given them much in common.

As a child, she had never stayed in one place long enough to develop friendships, real friendships. She had always been the outsider, never quite fitting in, always the object of jealousy in the friendship twosomes that dominated schoolyards. Having boyfriends during those years had been equally impossible.

Her life had been colored, shaped, pummeled by her early experiences and her parents had been just flighty enough that they hadn’t recognized or understood her suffering, or that her development was being warped. They had shared a love of moving around and experiencing new places but she had been left to tag along without either of her parents recognizing there might be repercussions.

She had fallen into a pattern of survival that had always required that she remain … aloof. And yes, inaccessible.

She felt defensive suddenly because the person she’d grown up to be wasn’t her fault. She wanted to wrap her arms around her chest but the field wouldn’t allow it. In this hateful captivity, she couldn’t even comfort herself.

There had to be some reason why she was stuck here. Something she needed to learn. She was convinced that even the worst situations could provide some opportunities for self-knowledge and growth.

God help her.

Tears trickled down the sides of her face. She had done her best, she truly had, to make the most of her life. She felt she had succeeded admirably in terms of her career. On Mortal Earth, she had loved being a librarian. Now, here she was in another dimension with plenty of power but apparently not the ability to access it in a way that would allow her to free herself or Antony.

Again her thoughts returned to Fiona’s hospital room and to that feeling of belonging. Then she’d seen Antony—who was really Rith—on the greenbelt.

Being grouped around the bed, she’d felt like she belonged.

But running then folding to Antony had been so rash, so separate from the group, so foolish.

She knew better. That’s what popped into her head. She knew the level of Rith’s power. Why had she run out onto the lawn, folding to the false Antony, without so much as a whisper of anxiety?

At the very least, at the very least, she should have looked around, even asked Havily to accompany her outside. Militia Warriors had surrounded the building, protecting those inside, but she had hurried out, separated herself from the group, without a single thought. She had been so used to making decisions on her own behalf for so long, that it hadn’t even occurred to her in that split-second before she folded to Antony that she ought to be careful about leaving the security of the building.

Her body stilled as her thoughts heated up, as the truth of what she was thinking sank into her bones. Maybe independence was a wonderful attribute, but what had her level of independence, her extreme of independence actually won her?

She rocked her head back and forth. What had it won her? Well, it was pretty obvious, since she was trapped beneath a field of energy with no way out and that she’d ended up in Rith’s clutches again.

Her situation suddenly seemed fully of irony. That which she had relied on for so long was in this moment her complete undoing, and not just hers, but the undoing of the man trapped in a separate field opposite her. He had followed her to try and save her and now he was trapped as well and destined to be executed on Greaves’s whim.

Holy shit. This was all her fault.

If she had it to do over again, what would she do? She would have paused. At the very least she would have waited to see why Antony was out there. She would have contacted him telepathically. She would have consulted with ascenders who had been on Second Earth a helluva lot longer than her own sweet self.

Her thoughts took a leap, an important one. Could she turn to the group now? Could she consult with others, say, with Endelle, to help her get out of this fix? Did she have enough power to do that?

Maybe.

Air whooshed into her lungs. She opened her voyeur’s window and thought of Endelle. The next moment there she was in one of the palace rotundas, surrounded by all the Warriors of the Blood.

She was about to attempt a communication with Endelle when she heard Thorne cry out, “We have to assemble the army at once, Endelle. For fuck’s sake, we don’t have a choice. Greaves has just folded another five thousand Militia Warriors and another hundred death vampires to the South Rim.”

Parisa faltered and her window wavered, a preternatural form of stumbling. Greaves was attacking? The South Rim was at the Grand Canyon. He was bringing an army to Arizona to attack Endelle’s forces? She wasn’t sure, but she thought her situation may have just gotten worse.

Oh, whatever.

And here she was with one of their best warriors locked up behind an impenetrable field.

Parisa moved her window close to Madame Endelle.

Hey, boss lady, she sent. She wasn’t about to try for subtlety. Parisa here. Are you registering this telepathy?

Endelle turned to face her off her left shoulder. She stared straight into Parisa’s window and in that moment the Supreme High Administrator opened her own voyeur’s window and met her face to face. It was the weirdest sensation, like two lap-tops facing each other.

Well, what do you know. She’d done it.

Endelle turned to the warriors. “I’ve got Parisa in my voyeur window. Hang tight, men.”

Parisa heard the shouting and whoops of excitement behind Endelle, but Her Supremeness called out, “Shut the fuck up! Let me talk to her.” She turned back to Parisa, Okay, so where the hell are you, ascender?

Trapped in some kind of temple beneath an energy field. Antony is with me trapped under a separate field.

I’m going to pan back. Don’t fucking move.

Endelle did just as she said. Parisa watched her window move away from her.

It’s pitch black, the Supreme High Administrator shouted, which of course was like knives through Parisa’s head, but hey, she’d made contact. Endelle could shout all she wanted. I can’t see a fucking thing.

No shit, Parisa responded. Can you get a fix on me, on Antony? Can you fold us the hell out of here?

Endelle closed her eyes but after a moment opened them. No can do.

Can you tell me how to get out of these fields then?

Endelle shook her head. Not my power. Let me bring Alison in. “Kerrick,” she called out. “Get Alison over here, on the double.”

“You got it.”

Parisa panned back and watched Kerrick whip his phone to his ear. She looked from one warrior to the next. They looked wrecked, stunned, and a little confused probably because she’d made contact and because, oh, yeah, Greaves was planning what sounded like a major offensive at the Grand Canyon. She also recognized Colonel Seriffe, head of the Militia Warriors.

Thorne drew a little closer. “What the hell is going on, Endelle?”

“Parisa and Medichi are trapped somewhere beneath energy fields, the kind Alison created in the arena battle. So, yeah, they’re alive.” More shouting went up, quieter, but Endelle scowled at her warriors. “Celebrate later. We’re in trouble here. Energy fields. Got it?”