Gates of Rapture

CHAPTER 15

Grace slipped on a simple white linen gown, something she’d made for herself while on Fourth Earth. Leto snored, a sound that pleased her more than she could say.
She left the room and crossed the narrow hallway to a second guest bedroom. The sun was rising on the opposite side of the house, so as she dropped to her knees in front of the window, the very tops of the White Tank Mountains were lit in a rosy glow. Militia Warriors still patrolled, a constant, slow, vigilant movement back and forth.
She saw a fainter movement past the tree line that separated the desert-like mountains from the traditional villa landscaping.
She extended her vision and saw that the same doe waited patiently for breakfast. She smiled, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. By long habit she ran through a litany of prayers, most of which she had constructed throughout the centuries. They eased her heart and mind and seemed to settle something deep within her so that she could move forward with the day’s enormous challenges.
Today she would practice once more with the women, and at eight o’clock, the spectacle event would take place. Because she hadn’t put any blocks in place, she felt Leto rise from his bed. When he found her, he didn’t speak but sank to the carpet behind her, joining her in her meditation.
She continued to pray until her soul felt at ease.
Her last thoughts were a basic giving of thanks for the simple gift of life.
When she opened her eyes and turned, she found Leto still on his knees behind her, one hand shading his face, his shoulders bowed. She saw in an instant the weight that he carried as a powerful ascender, as a warrior, as a trainer of Militia Warriors, as a gifted leader. She had often seen this same demeanor in Thorne.
Leto, she sent, thank you for joining me.
He lowered his hand and met her gaze. He pulled her back toward him and cradled her, his head bent over her shoulder as he nuzzled her face. He smelled so beautiful, of the forest.
She shifted in his arms and put her hand on his face. “What is to become of us?”
He kissed her and rocked her. “I will love you, I will work hard for you, and I will do everything I can to bring the stars down for you to hold in your hands. And I will strive to make this world a finer, better place for you.”
His vows, he was speaking his vows to her.
She could offer no less.
“And I will love you, Leto. As long as I draw breath, I will love you. I will do everything I can to bring the earth up to possess your heart. I will try to stay alive that we might know each other properly in the coming months and years.”
He thumbed her cheek, then kissed her. She felt his desire for her rise. In a soft voice, he asked, “What time do you have to be with the others at the workout center?”
“Eight.”
“Then we have some time.”
She saw the hopeful look in his eye, but her nerves were on edge. “You wanted me to share, right?”
“Yes, absolutely. Anything.”
“I’m afraid, Leto. There, I’ve said it. I’m afraid of what will happen tonight. I mean, I know the triad can do the mass folds. I’m not worried about that. But I fear everything else that can go wrong. And what if Greaves decides to attack at the spectacle?”
He kissed her, and she swallowed her fears, or tried to.
He drew back and petted her head, sweeping his hands down her hair, her shoulders, her back. “Every warrior feels this way before a battle. This is normal. I promise you.” He smiled and cupped her chin. “Let me ease you, Grace. Let me take care of you. Let me make you less afraid.”
The room suddenly smelled of the forest and Leto, and because she wasn’t blocking his sensations she could feel his arousal and what it was like to hold all her soft femaleness in his arms.
And because the war loomed so close and no one knew the outcome, she simply rose from the floor, took his hand, and led him back to the bedroom.
*   *   *

Endelle stood on a tall platform before three full-length mirrors in her large bedroom.
She knew how to rock the spectacle, and she wasn’t holding back now. She was having her final fitting for the hastily constructed regal costume she intended to wear for the event.
Poor Marcus would throw a bitch-fit, but it couldn’t be helped. He had wanted her to rein it in a bit, but this was her passion, what had helped keep her sane, especially in recent months since Thorne had broken his mind-link with her. As the administrator in charge of public relations for her, Marcus had done an amazing job. He’d single-handedly cleaned up her image all around the world and had somehow even gotten rid of those unfortunate Mardi Gras photos in which she had, oops, lost her top.
But beyond the superficial crap, he’d built up her image as primarily a ruler of independent territories, confirming that her most important goal would always be to make certain each Second Earth Territory existed in a state of complete autonomy. Greaves had an opposite vision, and this was something Marcus punched at hard in the worldwide political blogosphere, hammering away at the truth that Greaves was interested in world domination, not freedom for all ascenders.
“If you would please turn, Madame Endelle, an easy step to your right?”
She had discovered that the recently rescued blood slave Kaitlyn, a new mother, was also an excellent seamstress and costume designer. She had a gift with working a variety of materials and never even flinched when Endelle said “possum” or “cuckoo feathers.” If anything, her eyes lit up. She was a hands-on kind of gal. In addition, she could work miracles with just about any medium.
She was fashioning a massive coat for Endelle, structured for wings so that it could be worn while in flight. The back had a strong central strap and was very fitted, but for the most part was bare. The bottom of the coat was made up of a number of layers, many of which would extend for several yards behind her while in flight. Those layers were constructed of traditionally lighter fabrics like lace, silk, and even netting.
She already wore her civet cat bustier and the ladybug pendant. She pressed her hands to her hips. The coat was cinched in to showcase her small waist and was composed of sequined black leather, with white sequins in zebra-like lines.
Spread out in other parts of her palace, the long trains were being hemmed by her seamstresses.
In an hour, her hairdressers would arrive.
Endelle had to admit she actually felt excited about the Camelback spectacle event, which brought one hard fact sharply into view: This was one of the first times in recent decades that she’d gone on the offensive.
And it felt f*cking great.
The room’s audio system came on. “Madame Endelle, Carla here.”
“Go ahead, Carla. Kaitlyn is with me.”
“Understood. Marguerite wishes to report in.”
“She all rested up?” The red variety of obsidian flame had endured a long night. With Stannett bound to six powerful Seers, he’d been a bitch to guard hour after hour. By Endelle’s calculation, Marguerite might have gotten four hours of sleep, but hello, welcome to the shit-for-luck club.
“Send her in.”
A second later, Marguerite appeared in the doorway. She hadn’t been in Endelle’s private bedroom before. “Love your digs,” she said. “The round bed is suh-weet.”
Endelle laughed. Marguerite had a singular quality in that she could make Endelle laugh more than any other ascender she’d ever known.
Marguerite grimaced, then flicked a finger against her belly. “You two stop fighting. I’m with Her Supremeness. Show some respect.”
Endelle’s brows rose. Marguerite met her gaze but smirked. “Thought I’d start early with the discipline. Don’t think it’s working. They’re both as stubborn as Thorne.”
“But not like you.” She let the sarcasm roll.
“Oh, of course not.” Marguerite fluffed a collar that wasn’t there, as though preening.
Endelle felt something deep inside begin to settle. Some part of her had been damn worried about Thorne for God knew how long. Breh-hedden or no breh-hedden, Marguerite had caught Thorne in a beautiful deep safety net and now he was more of the vampire he always should have been. She might have still been sad that she wasn’t so close to him, but she was a thousand times more grateful that Marguerite had found him.
“Okay, Supreme High Seer of Second Earth, why are you here so damn early and how did it go last night?”
“As for my being here at this hour, there’s something I need to talk over with you, a concern I have. As for last night, it went like a sonofabitch. Stannett was in rare form. But my teams have some real Seer chops. I worked with them to lock Stanny down without my help, because God knows I need to be free to function with Grace and Fiona tonight, without distractions.”
“Have you been able to see Greaves’s plans at all?”
She shook her head. “Nope. We’re at a stalemate.” She frowned.
“So what’s bothering you? You said you needed to talk something over with me, but everything seems to be in order.”
“I’ve been unsettled about Greaves. And it’s not that I’ve seen this in the future streams, because I haven’t, but I have a gut feeling he intends to attack the spectacle event tonight.”
Endelle grew very still. She even stepped off the platform and held Marguerite’s gaze for a long moment. “The one thing I trust right now is instinct, especially from obsidian flame. So you think there’s a serious risk of attack?”
“I do.”
“You know, when Grace first suggested her idea of a spectacle, I really assumed that Greaves wouldn’t dare attack. I mean we’re filming the damn thing and putting it on the web for the whole world to see. If he attacked, it would turn a good portion of Second Earth against him.
“But I think you may be right because if I were in his shoes, with an opportunity to destroy the one thing standing in my way of taking over Second Earth—dammit, I’d take it.”
She called out, “Hey, Carla, would you get Thorne over here?”
Carla’s voice sounded through the room. “You bet.”
Endelle smiled. “Love this security system. I have a direct line to Central Command at all times. It’s voice-activated. All I have to do is say ‘Carla’ during the day and ‘Jeannie’ at night, and the women have to respond.” Both Carla and Jeannie had worked at Central forever. They were Endelle’s link to the Warriors of the Blood day and night.
A few minutes later, Thorne arrived. Endelle would have started in on the issue at hand, but the moment he saw Marguerite, he had to have his arms around her and give her a kiss.
When the embrace lingered Endelle made her usual gagging sounds until the two breh-mates knocked it off. She then told Thorne what Marguerite had shared with her and that she agreed. “So what do you think, Thorne? What’s your take on this?”
“I think Greaves would be a fool not to try it.” He then glanced from Marguerite to Endelle several times and finally addressed his breh. “Do you think obsidian flame could fold the review to safety if needed? I mean, it would have to be done with split-second timing.”
“Jesus,” Marguerite said. “If we’re busy folding Greaves’s army to new locations, I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
Thorne nodded. “Then that’s what you’re going to practice today.”
“Right,” Marguerite said, but she’d paled.
He put a hand on her shoulder and held her gaze. “Listen to me. Leto knows where Greaves’s artillery is. He’ll know when it lights up or if it lights up. I’ll get him on it, and we’ll arrange a signal, okay? We’ll figure this thing out.”
*   *   *

By the time Grace arrived at the workout center, Marguerite and Fiona were already there with Thorne. “I’ve sent for Leto,” he said. “We’re going to need him.”
Her gaze shifted beyond Thorne’s shoulder, and she saw that the corner of the room had come alive with all sorts of computer equipment, including several large monitors.
“What’s going on?” Her chest grew very tight.
Marguerite explained about her obsidian intuition firing off about Greaves, even though she couldn’t find anything in the future streams about him or a possible attack at the spectacle event.
Grace. Leto’s voice was suddenly in her head, and a second later she could feel him. She turned, and as he had done the day before, he strode across the mats looking like a god. Her heart seemed to flip in her chest, and without thinking she ran to him. He caught her up in his arms and held her tight, her feet dangling off the floor.
What’s wrong? he sent.
Marguerite thinks Greaves will attack at the spectacle review.
When he remained silent, she pulled back and he lowered her to the floor. She asked, “I mean, do you honestly think that Greaves would attack even though it would ruin him in the eyes of the world?”
“I know his mind. I know that right now he must feel that all his ambitions, his centuries of planning, are threatened by the triad. If Marguerite has that instinct vibrating through her obsidian power, I can only say that I think it’s not just possible, but likely.”
Grace lowered her gaze to the mats. “This is what I feared,” she said, “that by coming back, I’d be getting this close to weapons and bombs. I don’t know if I can do this. I thought it would just be a spectacle parade.”
He drew her against him and held her tight, but he didn’t say anything.
Grace took one breath after another. She knew it was too late to change things, and part of her didn’t want to. But she’d seen the war destroy Thorne for centuries. The same war ripped her sister, Patience, out of the air, taking her who the hell knew where.
Now she was part of a power-based triad, and because she’d been so very clever, she’d placed herself at the center of what could be a bombing.
Leto’s voice was once more in her head. You can go back. You have a right to the life of your choosing. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.
Leto, you always say what I need to hear. And yet …
It’s not simple.
You’re right, our decisions are never simple.
She’d had the life of her choosing for many centuries, and during all that time she’d never really found a place to put down roots. She had searched the ends of the earth, even Mortal Earth, looking for some sort of spiritual enlightenment, but nothing lasted, nothing satisfied.
In the end, she’d chosen to come back to Leto and to stop avoiding the war. She thought of all that was at stake. She remembered Leto’s speech at the warrior games about how everyone had a part in the war, because it wasn’t just about swords and guns and bombs. It was about building a better future going forward and that all ascenders had a role to play.
She didn’t like the role she’d been given to play. But what did that matter?
She chuckled softly and drew back. “I don’t know what I expected when I returned, or what I thought would happen when I said we should use a spectacle event as a ruse to move an army. I think I was naive.” She smiled ruefully. “I’ll be okay. I just keep needing to get used to this new reality.”
She turned to walk back in Thorne’s direction. Leto joined her with his arm around her waist.
Both Fiona and Marguerite comforted her, which of course caused their shared power to flare. However, in this case, it helped. “I kind of lost my nerve. But now that I feel all that massive obsidian vibration, I’m okay. We can do this, can’t we?”
“Of course we can,” Marguerite said. “Or as Endelle would say, ‘Shit yes, of course we f*cking can.’”
Grace started to laugh, and her obsidian sisters joined her.
Leto drew close, kissed her on the cheek, and said that Thorne had moved computer equipment to the workout room so that he’d be nearby if the triad needed him. “I’m locating Greaves’s artillery. I have one of Marcus’s computer geeks, which is code for ‘hacker,’ to help me break into some of the Commander’s files.”
Knowing that Leto was working on the bombing issue also gave her some comfort. But it was her brother who helped the most when he said, “We’re going to practice the rest of the day, here and out at the parade grounds as well, until all of you feel comfortable. The first thing we need to do is to find out if the triad can gather its power while in flight and without making physical contact. I feel confident it can be done, but we want to be sure.
“Also, we need to find out what happens when obsidian flame folds someone while in flight, which would include the swan and geese handlers, Endelle, and any of Marcus’s in-flight video operators. Though I have a feeling that the triad’s power will protect everyone, we need to know what we’re dealing with.
“Finally, I want to do an emergency run while in flight, to simulate Greaves’s firing his artillery. I want to be assured that I get a signal from the computer operator, and that I can alert the triad that an emergency mass fold is necessary for the parade grounds, then have Grace perform one very fast. How does that sound?”
Somehow having her brother break the challenges facing obsidian flame into specific skill sets and practice drills helped Grace a lot. She could even take a deep breath without feeling like she was being strangled. She realized that she was working with warriors who knew a lot about the value of regular workouts and drills on every level.
The first thing the triad did was to separate and focus on the obsidian flame power, causing the vibrations to rise without making physical contact. After a few false starts, a simple form of telepathy, from Grace to Marguerite then to Fiona, set the necessary sequence. Marguerite even suggested they use the word scorpion to focus on in order to prompt the experience. After an hour of practice, scorpion brought the power flowing within seconds each time the word passed from woman to woman.
Once the power could be brought without physical contact, Thorne moved everyone outside to continue the in-flight practice. Leto even suggested that he be the guinea pig for the first folding experiment. He and Thorne argued, but in the end Leto prevailed when he said, “The hell if I’m allowing any of the Militia Warriors to be hurt because of this. And you know I’m strong as hell and powerful, which means that if anything goes wrong, I’ll heal fast. Get Horace over here if it will make you feel any better.”
Grace watched him stare Thorne down. Marguerite hooked her arm through Grace’s. “We have two tough hombres, don’t we? Sweet Christ, is it bad of me to want to see them get into a fight? Thorne’s closing his fist. Look at his arms. Those muscles.”
Grace could not have cared less about her brother’s arms, but Leto’s shoulders were hunched and bulked up. Her mouth watered. She blinked several times.
Giving herself a shake, she approached the men and grabbed each by the wrist. “Hey, knock it off. The last thing we need is the two of you locking horns.”
The men backed down, which meant each took a few steps away from the other. She met Thorne’s gaze. “I happen to agree with Leto. And just in case, Horace should be here.”
“Fine,” Thorne said. He whipped his Droid Ascender from his slacks and started hitting the screen. A moment later, he said, “Hey, Carla, we need Horace at my position at Apache Junction Two, and, no, no one is hurt, and, yes, I do know he’s probably asleep, but get him to me anyway as quick as you can, at this position. I’ll let security here know.”
He tapped again and spoke to security. “Horace is coming to my position.”
Grace wasn’t surprised when about two minutes later, Horace materialized next to Thorne. He squinted against the bright sunshine.
“Sorry to disturb,” Thorne said.
But Horace bowed slightly. “No problem, duhuro.”
Thorne opened his mouth as though to say something then simply shrugged, smiled, and clapped the tall, thin healer on the shoulder. “Thanks for coming.” He then explained what they were doing.
Horace’s eyes grew wide. “I’m ready if you need me, but I really hope you don’t.” A fold could trash a pair of wings, even the strongest wings.
Leto removed his shirt, which caused Grace to put a hand to her chest and to weave on her feet. She didn’t think she’d ever get over what the man looked like.
He met her gaze but shook his head. He looked so serious, just as he should given the circumstances. And she knew she wasn’t helping because she knew that he could feel all the desire she was presently experiencing. The next moment, she felt his mental shields slam into place.
At the same time, she started setting up her own blocks like mad because all she could think about was what it had been like the night before with Leto at the villa, his body slamming into her from behind and both sets of wings mounted.
As he turned away from her, however, she was lost all over again as his wings unfurled. They arrived in a blue flurry of movement and suddenly all four panels of his unusual, exquisite wings were just there. He drew them in to close-mount and shot into the air.
Thirty feet up, he unfurled and flew above them, turning in a slow arc and flying over them once more.
She put her hand to her chest. In flight, he was, as Endelle might have said, f*cking magnificent. He began to plow through the air, even making another full loop that must have been a hundred yards in diameter. She didn’t move as she watched him, and she sure as hell couldn’t have looked away. She wanted to be up there with him.
A hand gripped her arm. “Hey.” Thorne’s voice broke through, and she turned to him startled.
“What?” she asked.
His stern expression softened. “Didn’t you hear me calling to you?”
She shook her head and pointed into the sky. Thorne’s gaze followed. “He’s your breh.”
Grace turned once more to watch Leto make another pass. His cadroen had come loose, and his long black hair flowed behind him. “Yes,” she said. “He’s my man.”
She heard Thorne chuckle, though she wasn’t sure what he found amusing. “Shall we see what happens when the triad folds him out of the sky?”
Oh, that. “Yes, of course.”
She turned to Grace and Marguerite. The latter sent the word scorpion into Grace’s mind, the telepathic link formed, and the obsidian power flowed.
Thorne’s thoughts were suddenly present as well. Leto’s ready. Fold at will. Bring him next to Horace.
Grace went into split-self mode, took possession of Fiona, then focused on Leto, now a hundred yards above the triad. She thought the thought.
She could feel the fold happen. The next moment she separated from Fiona, returning to herself. She wasn’t surprised when Leto appeared beside Horace, smiling, his hair wild, his blue eyes shining with pleasure and triumph, and his full-mount wings completely intact.
He met her gaze. “The fold felt like being wrapped in cotton and just set on my feet on the ground. Beautiful.”
Grace went to him, unable to contain all that she felt. She slid her arms carefully around his waist, and like a dream, his wings enfolded her. What a miracle all of this was, being here with Leto and her brother and with obsidian flame, feeling Leto’s arms around her. She felt overwhelmed and blessed.
She remained like that for a long time, just savoring him, savoring life, savoring the love she felt for him, the soft movement of his feathers over her skin. He was safe and uninjured, and he was hers.
Of course, the practice had to continue, but she thanked Thorne for letting her have that moment with Leto.
The rest of the morning involved practice and more practice, folding individual Militia Warriors in flight, then groups of them just to make sure that if the triad had to fold the spectacle handlers out of the air, it could be done safely.
After that, Grace took to the air and worked with Marguerite and Fiona doing the same thing all over again, but bringing their obsidian power online while in flight, then folding more Militia Warriors also while in flight.
The success of the venture was mind boggling.
With the most critical issues settled, the final trial run had been set up. The entire obsidian flame triad, including their brehs, was now in flight, and Grace would perform her final feat before tackling the spectacle review at eight.
It was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and Grace flew beside Marguerite and Fiona. Leto, Jean-Pierre, and Thorne flew behind each of them, for protection and for support. Thorne was taking no chances with this part of the practice.
Grace felt very connected to her obsidian sisters.
Leto’s voice penetrated her mind. You can’t believe what your combined wings look like. The flames of all three are exquisite. The colors are bold. You’ll get to see when we land because there’s a video-bot flying above us.
For herself, Grace had forgotten the joys of flight. She didn’t fly often enough. It was important to mount the wings at least once every two weeks to keep them fit and healthy. Ten days was even better. But flying was a different experience altogether, one of the real benefits of ascended life. She could see the various regiments below her, some receiving instruction over loudspeakers, some practicing marching. All wore flight battle gear, which gave a formidable unified appearance—and of course the black leather kilts were a great look.
She flapped her wings steadily, moving forward in an easterly direction along the parade route. Endelle’s beautiful graded administrative building, with terraces of hanging plants, was off to the south, Camelback Mountain to the north. A thousand tanks anchored the route, and stands were lined up in set intervals. The spectators, however, had been strictly limited to Militia Warriors in casual dress, no civilians allowed.
All along the route, the video cameras were in place, with their operators, everyone testing and retesting their equipment. She was amazed at all that Marcus, Havily, and their teams had created within a brief twenty-four hours. Large stands of stadium lights were already part of what was a traditional parade grounds.
Landing platforms had been set up at both the east and west ends of the route. It was strange to watch hundreds of warriors arrive then literally run off the platforms so that the next squadrons could fold in right behind them.
Leto, she sent telepathically, avoiding the com.
I’m here.
The organization is phenomenal. Have the hidden colonies sent their regiments?
No, they’ve remained within the colonies to protect the citizens. We’re still acting as if Greaves intends to attack at any given moment.
Thorne’s voice came over the com. “Grace, do you see the warriors at attention?”
Grace glanced down and to her left. There they were, in massive blocks of five hundred each, ten blocks total. “I see them.”
“That’s your mass-fold target. We’ve gathered ten thousand for practice.”
“Copy.” It was so strange to use such formal com-speak.
Marguerite’s voice broke over the com. “Banking left.”
Grace could feel the other two women turn just as she turned, their movements functioning as a solid group. They were a triad now. Maybe there were a lot of bumps yet to overcome, but for now they were obsidian flame.
Traveling up Scottsdale Boulevard Two, Marguerite happened to pull forward from her center position. Right afterward, Thorne recommended they keep the stronger, arrow-like formation because it would allow for greater visibility from the wing position.
He was right. Grace could see Fiona straight across from her now and could even catch her eye. Fiona nodded and smiled. The woman looked euphoric, but then she had only been flying for a few months. Nothing was more exhilarating. She flew like a pro, using her arms constantly to help make slight wing adjustments with every current of air that whipped over her or hit her broadside.
Two more miles and Marguerite spoke into the com, “Bank right. Folding endpoint site in one mile.”
Now heading east, Grace saw the massive area cordoned off with more rows of tanks. The tanks were Thorne’s idea to help substantiate the rumors Marcus had sent around on the web that Endelle had a bigger army than anyone knew about.
Grace’s heart began to hammer in her ears. Thorne came on the com. “Is ‘the flame’ ready?”
“Ready,” Grace responded. The flame was Thorne’s idea for abbreviated radio-speak.
Both Marguerite and Fiona called out, “Ready.”
“Execute at will,” Thorne ordered.
Still in flight, Grace didn’t hesitate. She took possession of Fiona, and as the shared obsidian flame power vibrated heavily through her, she focused on the mass of troops back at the parade grounds.
Grace pictured the formation square containing ten thousand warriors, and she simply thought the thought.
She felt a tremendous vibration through the air as well as movement, very swift. The next moment, the entire force appeared below the triad, next to the tanks.
She glanced at Thorne. He smiled at her and winked. Yep, ten thousand Militia Warriors, all in perfect formation, were shouting, punching the air with strong fists, and whooping it up.
Grace’s smile was so broad her cheeks hurt.

The breh-hedden never arrives at the opportune moment. But then in life, there rarely is such a thing as an opportune moment.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth