Born of Ashes (Guardians of Ascension #4)(54)
Author: Caris Roane

Jean-Pierre’s eyes went wide. “Is this true?”

Oh, why did the man have to be so handsome. She licked her lips, swallowed, and worked at focusing on the matter at hand. “Marguerite wants to know what the Upper ascender looked like. She saw him, in the future streams, just before the attack at baby Helena’s christening. She thinks they might be one and the same.”

“I did not see him but for a second or two. We hurt him, you and I, Fiona. We burned his lower legs, both of them. He was flying backward. He had very dark hair, though. I remember that: very dark and very long and curly. He was quite good looking, I think. A straight narrow nose.”

She put her hand on his cheek and nodded, then sent these details to Marguerite.

Marguerite’s voice in her head returned as a solid punch. He must be the same one. I would have described him exactly the way your warrior did. He held himself in the air through levitation alone, high in the air, no wings, so that he could look down on the battle from above. That’s how I saw all the death vampires moving on that shithole of an outdoor chapel.

Let me tell Jean-Pierre.

Go for it.

Fiona drew her mind from the conversation with Marguerite and once more focused on Jean-Pierre. He had pushed her long hair aside and was kissing her upper left wing-lock. She drew in a soft breath and gasped. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

What’s going on? Marguerite asked.

Without thinking, Fiona sent, Jean-Pierre is kissing one of my wing-locks. Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

But Marguerite growled softly. It’s the f**king best.

Marguerite, she drawled, attempting to chide her.

Don’t get pissy with me. Besides, if he’s kissing a wing-lock, maybe we should sign off.

Not yet. I want to tell Jean-Pierre what you said.

She drew out again, but this time, she twisted sideways and pushed him away from her back. “Would you stop that?”

He chuckled and folded his hands behind his head. “Very well.”

“This is important. Okay, so here’s what she said.” She relayed all the information about how the Upper ascender levitated high in the air.

Jean-Pierre whistled. “There is so much power in the Upper Dimensions. I am not surprised.”

“What do you think we should do—with Marguerite, I mean? What if she is an obsidian flame?”

“I think we must speak with Madame Endelle and Thorne. This may change the transfer to the Fortress.”

“You think?”

“Which do you think Endelle would prefer to have? A gifted Seer to whom she might have partial access, or an obsidian flame that she could command at all times?”

Fiona recalled Endelle’s extreme behavior leaping all over her office when she discovered what Fiona really was. “I see your point. I’m going to tell Marguerite. Would you let Thorne know? I have a profound sense of urgency about this.”

“Bien sûr, chérie. Of course. I will do it even now.” He held out his hand and folded his phone into his palm.

Fiona twisted to face front once more, though she felt Jean-Pierre’s warm palm on the center of her back as his deep voice rumbled an explanation to Thorne.

She dove within her mind once more and let Marguerite know all that they were doing. I’ll keep you informed. You know, I just thought of something. Let me try to contact you. Let me move away from you and let’s see if I can reach you the way you reach me, okay?

Sure. I’m not going f**king anywhere.

This made Fiona laugh. She didn’t know if it was the fact that both women had shared the same terrible long captivity, but she liked Marguerite, profanity or no profanity. She began to pull away, drawing the telepathic thread closer and closer to Sedona until she felt it almost snap back in place. She knew one thing for sure, all this practice was improving her skills.

Marguerite, she sent. She waited. Nothing happened. Great. Now what should she do?

She focused on her telepathic thread and extended it just a little. She concentrated very specifically on what she knew to be the sense of the woman when she communicated mind-to-mind with her. Then she spoke her name in a sharp command, Marguerite.

What the f**k! Why are you shouting at me?

Again, Fiona laughed. I’m so sorry. Okay, I’m going to try this once more, but I think I’ve figured it out.

She pulled the thread back until it popped into place. She took another deep breath, closed her eyes yet again, and focused. This time, when she extended the thread, she sent in as quiet a voice as she could manage, Marguerite, are you there?

Much better, idiot woman.

You make me laugh.

Good. There’s just one thing. Owen Stannett has a lot of power, which means that he’s probably got the Fortress shielded. I don’t know if we’ll be able to communicate.

Okay. Okay. Well, we’ll take this one step at a time. Now, where had she heard that before?

I’m signing off now. Sweet Jesus, those bitches drugged me last night then paralyzed me this morning. If I ever get out of the Fortress, I’m burning that goddam Convent down.

You go girl, Fiona sent.

You go girl? Really? The sarcasm didn’t drip, it flooded.

Hey, Endelle says that all the time when she’s impressed with something I’ve done.

Well, then, if Endelle says it. More flooding sarcasm.

All right. All right. Jean-Pierre’s tapping my shoulder. I think we’re heading out in a few minutes to see Thorne. I’ll contact you as soon as I know something.

Good. Was that a mental yawn? Later, sweet potater.

Yes, Fiona definitely liked Marguerite. Bye.

She pulled the thread back.

Her heart felt ridiculously warm, like she’d just made a new friend.

She turned to Jean-Pierre. His gaze fell to her br**sts and he pushed the comforter away from them. He sighed. When he spoke, his gaze remained pinned to her ni**les, which she knew had beaded in the cool morning air. “Thorne wants to see us in five minutes. He’s bringing Endelle along.”

She was about to nod and get up off the mattress, but he pushed her back and before she could protest, he had his mouth around her breast and was sucking at just that right pressure, not too hard, not too light.

Her back arched. Dammit, her warrior could get her going faster than lightning.

She moaned then shoved at his shoulder. “Would you stop that?”

His mouth popped off her breast and he looked up at her with all those big teeth. He looked so beautiful, even happy, and almost relaxed.

“But your br**sts are like food to me, a feast fit for the gods, and I am a man who is starving.”