Obsidian Flame (Guardians of Ascension #5)(111)
Author: Caris Roane

Thorne decided to lay it out. “I met your great-grandson at the colony in Mortal Earth Washington—the Seattle Colony as it’s known.”

Jean-Pierre’s brows rose. “You must mean Arthur.”

“Yes.”

“We were not certain where he was. He just seemed to have disappeared, although he let his father know that he was well and safe, but he was not coming home. I suppose this is good news.”

“The thing is, Arthur is Warrior of the Blood caliber.” He then described the battle and the level of Arthur’s skills.

“Merde,” Jean-Pierre murmured

Thorne couldn’t help but smile. “He reminded me of you … a lot. So, I suspect it’s a genetic thing. But he’s really unhappy because of the death of his fiancée.”

“He was too young to be thinking of such things. Only nineteen.”

Thorne shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what to say about that. He seemed to have loved her very much.”

Jean-Pierre drew in a deep breath. “Is there something you wish me to do?”

“I’m not sure. He says that he has four other friends at his level of battling skills, but they all refuse to have anything to do with the war. Since he’s your blood, I wanted you in on the decision making. This network of colonies will not remain secret much longer. We’re respecting their choice to remain as they are and to not accept our protection or involvement, but I’d hate to think what would happen if Greaves decided to get involved on any level.”

“Did you have a sense of what ought to be done? Given all the changes in the past few weeks, I believe I should take this dilemma to my family, especially to Arthur’s father.”

Thorne tapped deeply into that power that was fast becoming his greatest ally. He let the vibrations flow up through his body until he knew he was glowing.

He saw Jean-Pierre sit back in his chair, eyes wide.

“Better get used to it. Apparently it’s my new f**king look. I’m hoping at some point that this damn thing will settle down.” Jean-Pierre nodded, but he didn’t exactly close his mouth.

Thorne turned inward and held his last memory of Arthur firmly within his mind. He closed his eyes and just let the young warrior’s image rest, his strength and ability for one so young, that leanness of youth, the crooked smile.

Oddly, Leto came to mind. He knew enough, even after only a week, to follow his instincts.

Thorne met Jean-Pierre’s gaze. “I heard that Leto has been having some issues.” Thorne hadn’t seen the brother in several days. He’d been staying at Medichi’s villa, but apparently had taken a liking to Antony’s limoncello. He was battling all night at the Borderlands, like the rest of the warriors, but apparently not sleeping well during the day.

Jean-Pierre shook his head. “He is not right. I cannot explain it and I think it is more than the breh-hedden, more than just losing Grace to Casimir. Luken has questioned whether he should be fighting at all.” There was a long pause.

Thorne waited. A shiver went down his spine. Finally, he said, “Tell me.”

“Last night, he was in Awatukee. When Jeannie could not reach him on his warrior phone, she sent Santiago to see if he was all right. Santiago found him tearing a death vampire to pieces with his hands. He was deep in the chest. He ripped out the heart … and other things. Santiago said he was crazed. Leto did not even notice he was there. And when he did seem to come back to himself, he shouted into the night sky for a long time.”

Leto. His mentor for centuries.

“Maybe Leto should go to the Seattle Colony. The Militia Warriors need to be trained, and he could work with Arthur.”

“I think it would be best if he did not battle death vampires just now. He needs time to heal and to adjust. In the meantime, I will speak with my grandson, Arthur’s father, about the situation and see what he wishes to do.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Now there is something I would like to know. When are you going to make peace with Endelle? None of us like this person she has become. She is changed and very unhappy.”

“I know. I haven’t known what to do.”

“Just speak with her, Thorne. You knew her better than anyone else, but to my eye she is just very, very sad at losing such a good friend as you were to her all those centuries, non?”

He didn’t need to tap into his obsiddy power to gain clarity on the subject. He already knew Jean-Pierre had it exactly right.

“I’ll speak with her.”

Jean-Pierre rose to his feet, that same crooked smile on his face. “Now, I think, would be an excellent time.”

“Point taken.”

Jean-Pierre left. Thorne made his way to the landing platform.

After some searching, he found Endelle at one of her favorite gardens in the White Lake Resort Colony. But he didn’t approach her right away because she seemed lost in thought behind a heavy dome of mist.

* * *

Endelle leaned on the wrought-iron railing overlooking the replica of the Mortal Earth Butchart Gardens. This was one of a hundred enormous gardens that flanked either side of White Lake. The man-made lake was fifteen miles long and stretched the entire length of the White Tank Mountains, at the foot of the western slopes.

On either side of the lake, famous hotels and public gardens made this location one of the most visited places on Second Earth. She only wished she’d had enough foresight to invest in the colony at its inception a few decades ago, but that’s what happened to overworked Supreme High Administrators. They were just too busy keeping bad guys from taking over the world to see to their own futures.

Whatever.

She rubbed her neck and still felt nauseated. What the hell had Braulio done to her? She had scars at the upper end of her spine now. Horace had looked at them and believed them to be permanent. The depth of his concern had almost been her undoing. She could feel that Braulio had marked her in some way that was permanent, as in Upper Dimension permanent. She just didn’t know why, or what it would mean for her.

What she did know was that at odd times her muscles and bones would ache, as if she had some kind of virus at work in her body, which was impossible given that she was an ascended vampire. Hello, no such thing as a virus for the near-immortal.

She clasped her hands together and shifted her feet. The iron was cool beneath her forearms. Butchart Gardens Two was one of her favorite places. She couldn’t imagine how many tons of dirt had been removed to create the deep, sunken space. A lot.