Obsidian Flame (5 page)

The location? He panned around and saw forest, a very thick dark forest, not pine, more like fir. He looked up toward the sky and saw mist, but not the usual white lace pattern, something with a strange green hue. He panned back and the door opened: Marguerite stood there, behind a screen door. He held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next, but Marguerite’s Seer power, whether activated by her or not, could have an effect.

He saw her lips move. The stream began to fade until it disappeared.

He cursed. He needed to know where this was and what had happened, or rather what was going to happen. Because of the strange mist, he thought this place might be exactly what he was looking for: a hidden colony of some kind.

He had to continue. Had to learn more.

He still held Brynna’s ribbon, so he ordered his mind and began to rewind the image, letting it flow backward until he could see the mist again. He had some skills when it came to the future streams and he used them now. He held the ribbon steady and froze the moment while still inside the vision.

This time, he focused on the location again and panned skyward, pulling back and back as though rising into the air, higher and higher until the mountains grew small and other towns appeared, until he could see the coastline of, yes, the Pacific Northwest. This colony existed in the Cascade range in the state of Washington, Mortal Earth. He then concentrated on the timing of this meeting. He could feel that the women would meet … tomorrow.

When he sat up, the incredible nature of his discovery flew around in his chest like a bird that had just been set free. He was astonished at his find. He ran a hand lightly over his wave. So there was a hidden colony, with Seers in residence, on Mortal Earth.

His mind began to order his next steps. He would confer with the leader of his small attack force, comprising eight powerful death vampires. He would make an advance visit to the location and establish the when and where of the attack.

He grew relaxed and content now that he had a plan. His new life on Mortal Earth commenced tonight. There would be no bureaucracy to manipulate, no Madame Endelle to sidestep, no Warriors of the Blood to avoid. He could do what he wanted because these Seers were living under the radar. With a little care and planning, he could simply appear, search through the colony, and take what he wanted.

He smiled as he left his meditation room and moved to a veranda that wrapped around the entire central courtyard. Very clever, these houses that looked like nothing from the outside but were elegant and lovely inside. A deception. He loved deceptions.

He crossed the courtyard to the large room opposite where his Mexican death vampires lived and plotted their nightly forays into the surrounding communities. The size of Mortal Earth’s population, especially the number of people living in major cities, made for easy pickings for the pretty-boys.

*   *   *

Marguerite had been in the shower a long time and still she scrubbed herself silly.

She was so pissed.

She couldn’t believe that José, a mere mortal, had actually told her to get out. She’d never been more shocked in her life. She’d had her own speech ready, right on the tip of her tongue, to the effect that she’d had a great time, but she just wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Then José had said he had to split and she shouldn’t be here when he got back.

The nerve.

At last, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. As she did, her fury eased up and in its stead was something very close to remorse. Essentially she’d just cheated on Thorne, even though she’d already dumped his ass. But then, the fact that she felt even a nanosecond of regret pissed her off all over again. She’d already told Thorne to get lost. She’d made it clear in a thousand different ways that she was done with him and her life on Second Earth.

Through all the decades locked up in the Convent, her dream of a new life on Mortal Earth had kept her going. She’d always seen herself this way, living free and hooking up with as many men as she wanted, hitting the road at dawn every morning, and travelling to the ends of the earth, then starting all over again. She didn’t want to be accountable to anyone or anything.

On the other hand, Thorne didn’t deserve to be put through this. Maybe her dreams of freedom had kept her going, but Thorne’s presence in her life had kept her sane. But why had he followed her? He knew what she’d intended. She’d never made it a secret that once she got free, she was going on a prolonged man-hunt, maybe for a millennium.

She spread her towel on the toilet seat and sat down. She leaned over, put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. The trouble was, she kinda felt like two people and torn right down the middle. She wanted Thorne. Aw, hell, she craved him.

But there was another part of her that also craved freedom and self-determination the way her lungs craved air, as though she would die without it.

Then there was Owen Stannett and Commander Greaves. Either of those major pricks would be oh-so-happy to strap a new ankle guard on her leg, hook her up to a Seer milking machine, and never let her see the light of day again. So what the hell would she do if Greaves or Stannett started a major campaign to acquire her?

There was nothing about her current predicament that was simple. Above all, she wished she could get rid of her obsidian flame ability. Unfortunately, once a preternatural power arrived, it was just there, forever.

At least her obsiddy power, as she liked to call it, seemed to be sleeping for now, thank you, God. She and Fiona were sisters in obsidian flame, and supposedly one day there would be another. Once they joined powers, they would be able to make some kind of cosmic orchestral music together—not literally, but something as yet undefined.

The night she’d left Second Earth, Madame Endelle had promised her all sorts of freedom if she would stay and help out her administration. But Marguerite hadn’t been tempted, not even a little. Her experience thus far with administrators of any kind was that they would say one thing then do another, usually with the help of, yeah, an ankle guard.

A promise of freedom? Nothing in her experience told her she could count on that promise, from anyone.

So she’d left and here she was, feeling guilty as hell because she’d just cheated on Thorne even though she wasn’t even with him anymore.

She let go of a really big sigh then heard whistling from the other room. At the same, she caught a whiff of cherry tobacco.

Thorne.

Her first reaction involved a slight jumping of her spirit so that she rose to her feet and almost smiled. Thorne would never have told her to just get out of his room. Never.

Thorne.

But the moment she let his name drift through her head, guilt powered down so hard she nearly fell to her knees. She’d just had some amazing sex with José, some of the best of her life, but now her vampire boyfriend of the past century was in her hotel room.

She cared about Thorne, she really did. But he needed to move on, get his own life, get back to the war.

She dried off her hair in rapid swipes of the towel over her head, shuffled her fingers through to even the strands out, then shrugged into her white terry robe.

When she left the bathroom, her heart lurched at the sight of him. He was sprawled on the bed, no shirt, looking as yummy as ever. He had on jeans and she knew he would be commando because that was his style. He reclined on his side facing her.

“Aw, you’re wearing a robe.” He clucked his tongue a couple of times.

She sighed again. She hated being this torn. And she really did need him to move on.

“What are you doing here?” She turned away from him and hunted through her suitcase. She had a bunch of new clothes. Shoplifting was just plain fun. She’d even let herself be cuffed and put in the back of a police car. When neither of the officers responded to her overtures, she’d just wiped their memories and folded to the Holiday Inn.

She smelled his cherry tobacco again. Dammit, she liked that scent way too much, and it liked her, right between her legs. For a long hard moment she thought about jumping his bones, just for old times’ sake. But in the end, she needed Thorne to quit following her around. He needed to stop with all the protective bullshit and get on with gettin’ on.

“You’re beautiful,” Thorne said.

At that, she stopped pushing all the mixed-up crap around in her suitcase and turned toward him. “I guess we need to have this out.”

But he just smiled. He had an ease to his eyes that was very familiar.

Her mouth popped wide. “You just had sex.”

“I did.” He grinned. The bastard had the nerve to grin.

Marguerite closed the distance to the bed preternaturally fast so that before she knew what she was doing, or even intended to do, she straddled him, her robe falling open, which only made him grin some more.

“Who was she?” She thumped his chest with her fist. “Tell me her name. Did you find her in one of the local dives or maybe out there in the lobby?”

“I’m a gentleman,” he said, lacing his hands behind his head. “I don’t fuck and tell. You know that.”

She was so mad she couldn’t think straight. She started pounding on his thick muscled pecs with both hands. She let out a strange keening sound she didn’t think could ever have come out of her throat. She hated the thought of Thorne with another woman.

The next second he grabbed her arms and flipped her over, pinning her. He put his mouth on hers and kissed her … hard. She tried to fight him but he was six-five and really built, lean, tough, and hardened by war. It was like struggling against steel.

After a moment, when she’d quieted a little, he pulled back.

“I’m so mad.”

“You? Mad? Impossible. You have the gentlest temperament.”

“Screw you.” But he kissed her again, and because he smelled delicious, like her favorite pipe tobacco, her muscles grew lax and she let him put his tongue in her mouth.

She shouldn’t have done that. She really shouldn’t. She loved Thorne’s tongue. Aw, hell, she loved Thorne, she just didn’t want this, all this closeness and connection, all this future she could feel pressing down on her.

After a moment, he pulled back. She wanted him to understand, she really did. But the truth was, she didn’t understand it herself.

“Isn’t it killing you not to be with the brotherhood? Not to be in charge, although I’d bet just about anything that you’ve been issuing orders all this time.”

His smiled was crooked. “Yeah. I put Kerrick in charge, but he didn’t like that job. I just turned the reins over to Luken.” He frowned slightly. “Santiago and Zach are feuding, something about me, I guess.”

Guilt started piling up again. He was chasing her but he knew where he was needed. “You should go back.”

He searched her eyes. “I will when it’s time, but right now I have something I want to ask you, something I’ve always wanted to know.” She could guess. “You never told me, not in any real detail, why you hated your childhood. I know you said you think we should have this out, but maybe I can’t let go because I don’t get it, not all of it. Tell me something, Marguerite. Let me in a little.”

She looked up at him. He had such a gorgeous face, high pronounced cheekbones in sharp lines, low slightly arched brows in that sandy color that matched his hair. She loved his hair, all that thick, coarse mass, sun-burnished as if it had been painted with gold. His jawline met in a firm chin. But the pad of his chin was raised, round, and soft. She rubbed it now. His lips weren’t full but compressed and strong. His eyes mesmerized her, a thousand different shards of gray and green, gold and light brown that somehow blended to create a smooth hazel look.

She reached behind his neck and removed the pick from his
cadroen.
She tossed it higher up on the bed and pulled his long warrior hair forward. “I love your hair. It almost has a wave and it’s so thick.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I’m thinking.” She wondered what she should tell him that could explain her heart, or in some way help him to understand her drive to be free. “Do you know why I cut my hair?”

“I thought you wanted something new. I love it, by the way.”

She was surprised. “I thought you’d hate it.”

“Well”—he smiled—“when it was long, it did have one advantage.”

Her neck tingled at the reference. He had taken her from behind a lot, wrapping her long, long hair around his forearm, holding her back toward him, constraining her.

Of course those images weren’t helping and she really did need to talk this out with him. “I cut my hair because the fanatical sect that my parents were part of forced all the girls to wear their hair long.”

“You know I was born a Twoling in the good old Midwest, Second Earth, right?”

“Yes, that much I do know.”

“Well, my folks were abusive, I just wasn’t aware of it at the time. I thought what they did in the name of religion was normal. But getting lashed in a barn till the blood ran, all in the name of the Creator’s purpose and discipline, did not endear either my parents or their beliefs to me.”

She felt him stiffen and she was pretty sure she could hear him grinding his molars.