Gates of Rapture

CHAPTER 21

Greaves reached White Lake in time to see Alison, supported by obsidian flame, open the portal to Third. He saw the breach he had created with his own substantial power now fully exposed.
He tried to fold his death vampires through at that moment, but he couldn’t reach them.
Then the worst happened as the breach sealed itself, re-forming with the now open portal, a beautiful blue blossoming aperture ready to move ascenders freely between the two dimensions.
Again, he located his hundred and tried to fold them, but then he felt it, a Sixth ascender blocking Third. At almost the same time, the portal began to close up.
“No,” he screamed long and loud, so that waves of energy pulsed from his body, radiating in a large circle around him.
Alison hadn’t just opened the portal as his Seers had foreseen over a year ago. She had closed it as well, allowing no breach, no means by which he could continue to secure Third Earth death vampires.
He watched as obsidian flame and Alison began to sink slowly back to earth, back into Endelle’s mist.
When Greaves understood that he would be unable to bring his force through the now healed portal, he knew that his last chance at winning this war without invoking his virus-based morphing ability had just disappeared.
He folded back to Estrella.
All his generals and aides turned toward him, waiting. For a long moment, he couldn’t speak the words. He was stunned at what had just happened.
Finally, he told his staff the truth. The elevated spirits began to dissipate, just like his own. He would change that in a moment, but even he needed time to digest the ugly reality that he would not have his Third Earth force with him today.
At last, he waved a hand over his body. He changed from his elegant Hugo Boss suit into very basic black sweatpants and nothing more.
His generals backed up. He could see the shock, even the disapproval on their faces, so of course he had to give them a small demonstration of things to come. He let his claw emerge.
He smiled as the same group took another step back.
“Don’t worry, my friends. All is not lost.”
He then closed his eyes, and oiled up his body, top to bottom, in order to facilitate the coming change.
“I want a formal presentation at once,” he ordered.
His generals fell into line, each now restored to composure, eyes intense and focused on him.
“All begins and ends here,” he said, his voice filling the space with a faint resonance, nothing to harm his men this time but sufficient to build determination within each soul.
He glanced from face to face, warriors all, each having given himself fully to the Coming Order.
Greaves was not a man of sentiment, but he moved forward and went from man to man, cupping each at the back of the neck with his palm. No words were spoken as he passed down the line.
When he was done, he stood back and said simply, “You have your orders.”
The line broke as each man moved to his station in the room to sit before a computer screen and to monitor the ranks under his command. If so moved during events at White Lake, he would order an outright attack.
As it stood, however, mobilizing the entire army served no purpose since Leto had stolen half his force. For the moment, Greaves had lost the military advantage he’d worked so diligently to create, but he saw no sense in expending warriors when he might have need of them later. If during the coming battle he actually failed, he would fold to his Geneva stronghold, recover, then rebuild.
He had made his decision about how he would morph during the coming battle. He would hold nothing back. By the rules of war, approved by COPASS, both he and Endelle could do their worst.
And so he would.
He was therefore taking a small contingent to White Lake, not even a full regiment, just five hundred seasoned death vampires. They were an exquisite force of pretty-boys, all with blue-tinged skin and glossy black feathers when in flight. His force, if nothing else, would be a beautiful, terrifying sight to behold.
With him, he also had his diminished squad of three remaining Third Earth death vampires from the original lot he had snuck through the breach in the portal over the past six months. The majority had already died—some at the hands of Thorne five months ago in Moscow Two, and the rest more recently because of Casimir and Leto’s combined efforts.
When an aide called out that the mist from White Lake had just disappeared, Greaves bid his generals to await his orders, then folded to his landing platform at the mouth of the vast Estrella Mountain underground barracks. His death vampires stood in formation, lovely to behold in black kilts and maroon weapons harnesses. He’d ordered his own form of the cadroen, so that his men presented a uniform appearance.
He smiled. Using a form of mass telepathy, he communicated in a firm mental voice, Today we vanquish our enemy.
As one, each right fist pumped the air and a deafening battle cry filled the cavern.
*   *   *

Endelle stood on the bank of White Lake, her mist withdrawn. She felt deeply sobered by watching Alison fulfill a destiny that Alison had predicted at the time of her ascension. Obsidian flame, Leto, Thorne, Kerrick, and Alison flew toward her, and landed one after the other in an arc in front of her.
Each ascender was equally sobered, as though in some mystical way, they knew as a group that what happened next would be pivotal.
By prior agreement, she folded everyone to the Apache Junction Two landing platforms. Once down the ramp, she turned, let the group gather around her once more, and ordered obsidian flame to use Marguerite’s Seer ability to have a look at White Lake.
Fiona, Marguerite, and Grace faced one another. Endelle could feel the power flow from deep in the earth. Thorne stood near them, ready to anchor all that power as needed.
Endelle knew the moment when Marguerite entered the future streams; it was as though a switch clicked. The same switch got flipped again as Marguerite withdrew. But her face was pinched, and her eyes wide, as she met Endelle’s gaze.
Endelle knew that Marguerite had seen something about the battle that horrified her. She had a split-second decision to make about what the group should know and finally called out to Marguerite, “Come here and show me what you’ve seen. Just me, do you understand?”
She nodded and moved past the other two women to reach up and put her hands on Endelle’s face. Marguerite let the vision flow.
When Endelle watched the images pass by in a swift wave, she watched the nature of her own transformation. She saw Greaves as well. She didn’t understand how her new form could battle his and possibly win. She was still herself, except without flight gear, and her wings had changed, morphing to enormous, ethereal, floating panels without feathers; more butterfly than bird. Her hair floated in a mass of iridescent pastel shades. Her naked body, while still very female, also bore what looked like a flame pattern of the same pastel shades and very iridescent. The effect was beautiful but not exactly the lethal presence she would need to defeat a monster.
In the vision she flew in Greaves’s direction; then the prophetic images faded to nothing. Was she flying to her doom? Because Greaves looked like a man now covered in impenetrable plates like a medieval knight, yet made up of his biological material.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment absorbing what she had seen.
She simply couldn’t believe what would be required of her or how the form she had chosen could actually battle Greaves.
When she opened her eyes, she drew a deep breath and told Marguerite to remain silent and not to share the images with anyone.
“Endelle,” Thorne called out. “This isn’t right. You should tell everyone.”
“Perhaps I should,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “But there is part of the vision that concerns only me, which I intend to keep private between me and Marguerite. The rest, however, I can communicate, but I want all the Warriors of the Blood in the folding hangar as quickly as possible, in flight gear, their brehs with them.”
Thorne got on his com and started barking orders one after the other.
Endelle didn’t wait to watch anyone arrive. She turned instead and walked in the direction of the hangar.
Once through the broad doorway, she inclined her head to Gideon, who stood on the elevated command platform that overlooked the enormous room. She noted the tension in his eyes and in his stance.
Everyone felt the proximity of battle.
She moved to stand near the extensive folding platforms, her back to the room. She could feel her elite force arriving one after the other, as well as Havily and Parisa, who were bonded with Marcus and Medichi.
When everyone had arrived, she turned around—and the sight took her breath away. All nine of her beloved Warriors of the Blood, all in battle gear and ready for war, waited for her, shoulders back, spines straight, eyes alert.
These were her warriors, the men who had been with her for centuries, battling death vampires at the five major Borderlands in the Phoenix Metro Two area. Her throat felt tight, her eyes burned, her heart ached.
Each had suffered while striving to do right by Second Earth, to keep mortals and ascenders safe from the killing inherent in the soul of the death vampires.
She loved them all, but she wondered if her warriors knew how much she valued them. She let her gaze move from one to the next, starting with Kerrick who had bonded with Alison, the first of the men to be struck down by the breh-hedden. Marcus was next, his slash of brows over light brown eyes. He gripped Havily’s hand. Medichi was the tallest, his arm tight around Parisa’s shoulders. Jean-Pierre, as was his habit, stood behind Fiona, his arms wrapped around her; Fiona’s head cradled against his neck and shoulder.
Thorne leaned down, saying something tender in Marguerite’s ear. She smiled up at him and kissed him.
Leto met Endelle’s gaze and gave a brisk nod, his arm hooked around Grace’s. Luken stood next to Grace, one of three remaining unbonded warriors. He had the biggest shoulders she had ever seen, bigger than even Braulio’s. He was her new leader of the Warriors of the Blood, having replaced Thorne.
Zacharius, with his thick curly hair that drove the women wild, smiled crookedly. Santiago stood next to him with all his Latin charm, flipping a ruby-studded dagger.
Her men.
Her warriors.
“Madame Endelle,” Gideon called out.
She turned toward him and nodded.
“I just received word that Greaves and a large contingent of death vampires are now in flight over White Lake, just beneath the Trough to Third Earth.”
Her heart rate kicked into high gear. “Do we have visuals?”
“Coming.” Gideon spoke quietly into his com. He tapped on his computer keyboard and a moment later the huge screen behind him came to life.
The visual left nothing to the imagination. In a vast line, from the vortex and gathered in row upon row to the south, were hundreds of death vampires, the bright sun of the desert glittering off the gloss of their wings and exposing the pale skin tinged with blue. Each wore a maroon weapons harness, the signature color for Greaves’s army.
Greaves led the parade, but he hadn’t mounted his wings. He merely levitated at the head of his force and he seemed to be wearing only a pair of pants. His body gleamed with oil, which confirmed what she and Marguerite had seen in the future streams.
Greaves would change shape, and she would be forced to as well. She would have to morph into something that had a chance of subduing what Greaves would become.
“Dear Creator,” she whispered.
And for the first time in millennia, Endelle knew fear. She could hear her warriors murmuring.
Thorne drew close to her. She met his gaze and asked, “What do you suggest?”
“We’ll need a Militia Warrior force five times that size.”
Endelle saw the glitter in his eyes. “You have the force ready, don’t you?”
Thorne met her gaze and smiled. “Damn straight I do.”
“And you’ll need healers on the banks and Militia Warriors in speedboats to pull the wounded out of the water and get them to shore.” Wings could easily get caught in water and drown an ascender.
At that, Thorne smiled. “Already done. They’re a mile from the vortex, in a flotilla ready to engage.”
Endelle shook her head. “I keep forgetting that you’ve been planning every contingency for months.” She drew a deep breath and said, “You have command of obsidian flame. Do with them what you see fit on every level. I know they’re not warriors so if you can help it, don’t put them into battle. Find some way to use them that will support me or your troops.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.”
“Then let’s do this thing. Let’s see if we can’t finish off that bastard right now.”
But Thorne took her arm gently in his. To her mind, he sent, I saw the vision as well. It flowed into my head as Marguerite saw it. I could also sense that there was something permanent about the change, unlike what I am able to do when I morph. Are you sure you have to do this thing?
Yes, Braulio explained it to me.
He searched her eyes, I’m so sorry that this is on you, Endelle. You deserve so much better. Regardless, I’ve got your back.
Endelle nodded. I know. Just his nearness calmed her fears. Thank you.
After Braulio had told her the difficult truth about her new ability, she had known she was facing one of the toughest moments of her life, to choose to become something she would have to morph into the rest of her ascended life.
But the hour was too late for regrets or for making other decisions. There was nothing to be done or to be undone. Apparently Greaves was going all-in, pushing his last chip onto the table and expecting to win because of his little secret.
Of course, he had no way of knowing what Braulio had done to her.
As she pondered the vision of herself in her altered state, she wondered why the hell she would have chosen something that looked so vulnerable. A ruse of some kind?
Then she remembered something about scorpions. Some carried a poison that could kill a human being but couldn’t harm a cat. She thought about adding a fine stinger tail to what would otherwise be a quite beautiful transformation, but the vision hadn’t included anything like that, just an odd almost continual shedding of perspiration, probably to keep the wings flexible. If nothing else, she would be quick in the air, much more agile than with her usual wings.
She gave her orders and with obsidian flame, including Thorne, backing her up, as well as her Warriors of the Blood, she folded to White Lake. She now levitated in the air fifty yards from Greaves. And because Thorne had built the army, and had made sure his force drilled a variety of maneuvers every day, she could sense her force move into place behind her: twenty-five hundred seasoned Militia Warriors, male and female.
Greaves was suddenly in her mind, busting past her mental shields, a reminder that the bastard had power. You can surrender now and live, he sent.
There was resonance and force behind his words, as though he shouted into a canyon. His voice hurt.
She sent back her favorite phrase, however, and added her own resonance. F*ck you.
With pleasure, she watched Greaves list, ever so slightly, midair.
A faint mist suddenly surrounded Greaves, and Endelle knew the time had come to morph. Her throat grew tight as she also swirled her mist. She got rid of her flight suit, took a deep breath, then let the morphing begin.
The physical ache returned from the time Braulio had first infected her with the virus, deep in her muscles and bones, as everything began to stretch and reshape. She kept the future stream image firmly in mind and, despite the pain, allowed the new being to come forth from her body.
But dear Creator, help her to understand how this shape could slay a monster?
*   *   *

Thorne saw Endelle’s mist, as well as Greaves’s. He knew what was transpiring, though he could hardly believe the transformations that would take place. At the same time, he had to get his army poised for battle.
He turned to face what was essentially a full regiment of twenty-five hundred warriors, which meant five warriors against every death vampire, a necessary equation. He touched his com and spoke to his twenty-five Section Leaders, each of whom had charge of a hundred men and women.
Like a ballet corps, the force split vertically, forming five layers, one above the next, in the air, thirty feet between each layer so that Thorne’s gaze now traveled up and up.
Wings flapped sustaining positions. He spoke again, and the force now spread across the width of White Lake, bank to bank, another means of allowing for battle maneuver.
He glanced at both sides of the lake and noted how the hotels and gardens were completely empty of people. Colonel Seriffe had done his job well and evacuated everyone against the battle now shaping up on the lake.
He turned to face Endelle once more and saw in the distance that Greaves had completed his transformation and was hovering near the surface of the water. According to the vision, the battle between Endelle and Greaves would take place just above the surface.
Thorne extended his vision to see Greaves better.
Jesus H. Christ. The monster had become more of himself but with what looked like a biological suit of armor. He was twice Greaves’s normal size. His face was still there, but his body had heavy plates that could probably withstand hand-blast capacity. He looked physically powerful. If Thorne could guess, then blow for blow Endelle would have to become something similar to be able to battle him, and according to the future streams, she would not be anything close.
Endelle’s mist evaporated and what emerged was like something from a massive chrysalis: an angelic butterfly that glittered beneath the sun. Thorne had to put a hand up to shield his eyes. It was as though she were covered in gems that reflected the light.
She was so beautiful.
Though he had a sinking sensation that what she had chosen to become could never battle a fully armored Greaves, he thought wryly that Endelle had created one helluva spectacle costume, something that must have pleased her soul.
As he saw Greaves’s death vampire force—and because Endelle had given him complete command of the army—he made a quick decision.
He touched his com and ordered his regiment to perform one of his favorite drills, a massive group flight, at an angle rising into the air in order to achieve a superior advantage over the enemy.
A split second later, his Militia Warriors, as a unit, began to flap every shade of wing imaginable at an upward angle that within less than a minute, if unimpeded, would place them above Greaves’s death vampire force.
He marveled at the sight his force presented, flying in perfect formation as a well-practiced regiment could do, up and up, still stacked five high, still the breadth of the lake below.
As they passed overhead, moving between him and the direct sight line of the sun, shadows rippled over him.
Pride swelled his heart.
Whatever the results of the forthcoming battle, he would never forget this moment as long as he lived.
He tapped a second com and reached Luken. “There are three Third Earth death vampires behind Greaves. Only your warriors will be able to take them. As soon as Endelle engages Greaves, attack only those vamps.”
“Understood, boss.”
Thorne smiled. How many times had he heard Luken call him “boss” while he had been the leader. A hundred? A thousand? More than that, no doubt.
He knew when Luken had communicated with the warriors, because as another unified group, they launched high into the air, but still below the Militia Warriors that were now almost in place.
Greaves’s force remained static, submissive to his will. But he had apparently been so focused on Endelle that he’d failed to observe Thorne’s maneuvers. When several shadows passed over him, he looked up and seemed to weave in the air for a moment as though surprised.
He must have issued orders, because his pretty-boys suddenly began an upward drive in the direction of the now descending Militia Warrior force. A few seconds later, the battle in the air began as swords clashed and maroon-vested death vampires began fighting squads of Militia Warriors.
Thorne turned to face north and could see the flotilla in the distance. He touched his com and spoke with Horace, directing him to begin an approach; the battle had commenced and healers would be needed soon.
As for obsidian flame, he pivoted in the air and said, “I want you to stay back with Horace and the support line of warriors. If you’re needed, I will call you forward. But even Endelle would prefer that you remain separate from the battle.”
The women nodded gravely. But it was his sister who drew close and said, “If you need us to fight, we will.” Both Marguerite and Fiona nodded in agreement.
They were brave, these women, none of whom was built to wield a sword. But each had the same spirit as his warriors, willing to do all that was required of her.
“Thank you,” he said, looking from face to face with great affection. “I promise I will summon you as needed.” But he was relieved as he watched them fly north in the direction of the flotilla.
*   *   *

Endelle allowed herself to feel the being she had become. She flexed her new wings, grateful that she still had her arms and legs and wasn’t in too different a shape from her usual flight arrangement.
She experimented for a moment, flapping the butterfly-like panels. Just as she suspected, she could move quickly and make much sharper turns. She also found that because the change was genetic, her body knew what it needed to do.
What bemused her, however, was just how much she perspired from every cell of her skin as well as her wings.
Greaves began to advance on her, a satisfied smile on his face. He moved through his advanced levitation and gained speed.
Shit, if he plowed into her, he could knock her into the water, and she had the worst feeling she would never get out. Wings and water did not mesh at all.
Her genetics began to speak to her about the fluids she shed. They had a purpose, but she couldn’t quite make it out.
Greaves had completed half the distance.
On he came, his protective plates writhing as he floated. His eyes were almost black as he stared at her. He lowered his chin.
She knew what would happen. He was a bull charging her, and only speed would get her away.
Greaves drew within fifteen feet, formed a missile with his body, then charged.
But she had the ability to flit in this form. She twisted a couple of times with her wings and was suddenly thirty feet away and to the southeast. She flapped her new wings, hovering. She smiled. Damn, she liked this form.
She waited for Greaves to charge her, but for some reason he didn’t move as he watched her from a distance. He looked as though he was injured as he held a hand over one of the plates. But exactly how had she hurt him?
His hand fell away as he straightened and looked up at her.
Endelle wondered if when she’d twisted and whisked away, she’d struck him with her foot, but she didn’t remember making contact.
All around her, Thorne’s force battled death vampires. She could hear dozens of war cries sounding again and again. She heard the flapping of wings, sword rasping against sword, and occasionally a scream of pain.
She also heard water splashing and the rumble of speedboats below her.
When Greaves once more sped up his levitation and came barreling toward her through the air, her perspiration increased. It came from every part of her body, wings included.
As he drew near, she moved but not quite fast enough. He caught her right hip and sent her spiraling. She moved her wings but couldn’t quite catch air. She tumbled in the direction of the water. She calmed her mind and allowed her new body to right itself so that her wings went through a new wicked twist.
She now floated just a few feet above the water. Her heart was a jackhammer.
She searched for Greaves, but couldn’t find him.
On instinct she began to fly straight up. As she did, hands clamped around her feet and began pulling her down once more toward the water.
She looked down. Greaves’s morphed body looked strange, as though he’d been pelted with baseball-sized balls of hail.
Down he dragged her. As hard as she flapped her wings, she had no strength to withstand his physical and muscular superiority as the being he had become.
If he got her under the water, she would drown.
But there was something more, something that worked at her subconscious mind.
She sweat profusely now, but the flapping of her wings sent all that perspiration into a spiral above her.
Then she understood.
She drew her wings in, which of course plummeted her more quickly to a sure death. At the same time, she focused on the fluids leaking from her, increasing the volume and letting them flood Greaves.
He screamed and released her. She flitted back into the air, barely escaping the lake’s surface. She glanced down. Greaves was writhing in the water. It wasn’t sweat that she perspired, but droplets of acid. How grateful she was to have trusted the image in the future streams.
Greaves thrashed in the lake for some time, but it was clear the water wasn’t helping and that his protective biological plates were being eaten away. She couldn’t imagine the pain that he experienced right now.
Endelle remained in her elevated position. She wouldn’t go near him until she was sure he was completely subdued.
At last, Greaves’s plated form floated on the surface, faceup. His eyes were closed. He was still alive, but barely.
Thorne, I need you, she sent.
A few seconds later, as he approached, she added, Not too close. She then explained about her acid-based, built-in defense mechanism.
He kept his distance. Glancing at Greaves, he said, “That explains the deep pockmarks and oozing blood.”
“I can’t believe he’s still alive.”
“What do you want to do with him?”
Endelle thought about summoning obsidian flame to make use of some serious hand-blast capacity and incinerate him on the spot. She also thought about having him tried for war crimes.
“Can we even contain him?” Thorne asked. “Or will he just dematerialize and go heal himself somewhere?”
A number of boats arrived. She glanced to her right and saw that the triad was in one of the foremost, all eyes cast in Greaves’s direction. Fiona had her hand to her mouth and finally looked away.
But it was Grace who called out, “Madame Endelle, would you consider relinquishing him to Beatrice? Can you give Greaves a choice?”
Grace was suggesting that Greaves be granted something he had never granted a single person whose life he’d been the means of ending.
Fury filled her. She wanted to pluck Greaves out of the water and continue to bathe him in acid until his flesh and bones were completely dissolved.
Behind her the sounds of battle had grown fainter and more distant. Thorne’s regiment had done its job.
She stared down at Greaves. She wanted him dead for two thousand years of misery that he had brought down on her, on her warriors, on all of Second Earth.
She lifted her wings and felt the perspiration forming once more. But Grace was suddenly in flight and hovering above Greaves. She called out, “I promised Beatrice I would try. Let Greaves go to his mother, to enter the redemption program. It will be punishment enough. Then he can become what he might have been if he had not been tortured and abused as a child. Please, Endelle, let Beatrice try.”
Endelle didn’t want Greaves reprieved. She wanted him to pay for everything he had done.
She looked at Thorne, but he just shook his head. Your call on this one, he sent. But you need to make the decision quickly. Every warrior here will want him dead. Soon, you won’t have a choice.
So this was to be her call. She had seen Casimir’s change. He was a new man, and his conscience would demand penitence for centuries to come. She knew that the redemption program was its own form of punishment that essentially lasted a lifetime because of the rebuilding of the conscience.
Greaves would suffer.
He was also beginning to recover. Greaves had powerful self-healing abilities. He began swimming to shore, lumbering through the water. She called out to the triad, “Once he reaches the bank, cast an energy field over him while I figure this out. Alison has that ability.”
As she pondered what had to be the hardest decision of her life, she watched the triad pull together. Only by shifts of shoulders and arches of necks could she see the early part of the process. Once Grace took possession of Fiona, the earth-based power rumbled and began to stream, a silver river of energy above them.
Greaves reached the bank and started to rise to his feet, even with all the deep pits and rivulets of blood. Fiona turned in his direction. The next moment he lay flat on the grassy bank, a beautiful gold, red, and blue field of energy pinning him down.
Endelle turned away from the flotilla, rising higher into the air. She needed to think.
The lake was full mostly of dead or dying death vampires. Colonel Seriffe and Thorne had trained the warriors well.
Even the Third Earth death vampires were dead. Santiago flew above their bodies. She could sense that he was stationed there to make certain they didn’t have an unknown power to rise. If any of them did, he was ready with his ruby dagger in one hand and sword in the other.
The rest of the sky was full of Militia Warriors patrolling back and forth. Occasionally she could spot her Warriors of the Blood. Just a few knots were still battling over the lake far to the south.
Retrieval boats zoomed past below, and by order, Militia Warriors flew down to escort them in case any of the death vampires in the water weren’t really dead.
She began to feel weary in her new form. Of course all her battle adrenaline was gone. She even felt a pressing need to get to solid ground and morph back to her ascended form.
She returned to Greaves’s position, created some mist, and went through another painful morphing process.
By the time she was done, she had little energy to do more than sit in her flight suit and stare into Greaves’s eyes.
He had changed as well, but his body, as to be expected, was pitted in many places to the bone. Even parts of his skull were exposed. He lay naked and trembling, his eyes full of pain. But he was healing, that much was clear to her.
“I’ll give you the choice, Greaves. We can try you at COPASS in Prague for war crimes that Marcus has well documented and to which many, many people will testify and for which you will undoubtedly be executed. Or I can send you to Fourth, to your mother, and to the redemption pools. Which will it be?”
He lay shaking as he closed his eyes. She knew him. He was one manipulative bastard and was no doubt trying to figure out which course of action would give him the best advantage going forward.
When he finally opened his eyes, he sent, Beatrice.
“As you wish.” She focused her thoughts on Fourth Earth. She and Beatrice had been friends for millennia. When she gave Beatrice the news, the woman grew very silent.
Endelle added, You have Grace to thank for intervening.
I am coming to you returned to her, and a split second later Beatrice appeared in an elegant peach-silk gown and beautifully coiffed red hair, looking as Grecian as ever. She nodded to Endelle, but it was to Grace that she said a soft thank-you.
She waved her hand over the monster that had tormented Second Earth for so long. He now wore a long white robe. Endelle was just about to have obsidian flame release the energy field when Beatrice took him exactly how he was, prone and caught by the field.
Endelle sat with her hands clasped around her knees. She was exhausted from morphing and trying to stay alive as she battled Greaves. Her hip ached where he’d struck her.
And now he was gone, taken away to Fourth in an energy field.
She couldn’t believe it. After all this time, after centuries of being unable to deal effectively with Greaves, suddenly he was just gone.
She hardly knew what to think or to feel.
She remained on the bank of White Lake and watched her team perform all that they needed to do. The speedboats rescued dozens of wounded Militia Warriors from the waters, those who had been injured during battle against the death vampires. The healers moved from boat to boat and worked on the injured.
The September sun rose high in the sky, shining down on the great victory over White Lake. Her Warriors of the Blood remained in the sky, moving back and forth, helping where each was needed. Thorne floated in the sky twenty yards away, fully in command, speaking into his headset almost constantly as he directed the show.
In stages, she began to relax. The scourge of Second Earth was gone and would never be back.
She tried to figure out what she was feeling. Much to her surprise, she was at peace.
There would be work still to do in the future. At the very least, she would need to start negotiations with Greaves’s generals, to do all that she could to end the possibility that one or all of them would decide to pick up where Greaves had left off.
But beyond that, her Warriors of the Blood as well as her Militia Warriors would continue to hunt down the last of the death vampires until Second Earth was free of their horrifying and constant threat. Without Greaves to create new death vampires as he had been doing all these centuries, the threat would diminish day by day.
When at last she made it back to the palace, having left White Lake in Thorne’s oh-so-capable hands, she walked into her sitting room and found Braulio seated in the farthest oversized purple velvet chair.
“You did good, Endelle.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
He smiled, and she held her hand out to him. “Come make love to me, and afterward, I want to sleep for about a century.”
He rose from his chair, and as he moved toward her, he said, “I’ve been waiting for this day for the last five thousand years.”

A family is a fluid thing,

Changing shape with each birth and each death.

Take care to celebrate the simple joys of each day.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth