Fitting.

Endelle had a scorpion’s temperament.

“I did a quick profile of her powers. She may have all of Second’s abilities.”

“Goddammit,” Endelle muttered. She plucked one of her feathers and ran it between her fingers. He winced. It hurt like hell to have a feather plucked but he supposed she’d been doing it so long the experience was similar to filing her nails. She continued, “The Commander’s going to want her and in a few hours this is going to turn into a fucking shitfest. Okay, so where exactly is she in her call to ascension?”

“I couldn’t get into her head.”

“What?” She actually shifted her legs off her desk and leaned forward to stare at him. “You couldn’t get into her head?”

“I could communicate telepathically, but she has shields like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Wow.” She nodded several times. “So, did you ask about her dreams?”

“I’m not a Liaison Officer and you know the rules. Even asking is considered a violation. She had no apparent prior knowledge of anything she saw, either the death vamp or me. Our world, therefore, hasn’t commanded her dreams, otherwise she should have known more than she did.”

“But her powers…?”

“Off the chart. Only your ascension came with the ability to dematerialize.”

“Damn straight. Well, she has to be in the middle of it. I’m playing this as though we have a major ascension in progress. I think it’s just a matter of time before she makes her way to one of the Borderlands.” She rubbed her forehead. He wondered if she ever slept. But then, none of them did right now, at least not a whole lot of hours strung together.

Sleep. What would that be like?

The feather she had plucked changed colors, from pink to amber to black to green, a kaleidoscope turning along with the flicks of her thumb and forefinger, all the absent workings of her thoughts.

His gaze shifted to the view from the north window. Night had fallen, and Camelback Mountain was in silhouette against a black sky lit with stars. The same location on Mortal Earth would have put her office somewhere near Sky Harbor Airport.

Madame Endelle’s administrative building sat in a group of elegant glass high-rises, each building wide at the base, like a pyramid, and staggered inward at each floor, allowing broad patio gardens to make up part of the overall design. By tapping into the underground rivers, the Valley of the Sun on Second Earth, in populated areas, took on a tropical feel. Broadleaf trees and citrus groves kept the temps down and the air clean. Healing greenbelts winding throughout the city were the norm.

She looked back at him. “Central said Greaves was on deck tonight.”

He nodded. “The mortal female is a therapist by profession. She served as his counselor, such as it was, for the space of a year.”

“No shit,” Endelle murmured. “So he’s known about her all this time.” She shook her head. “Goddammit. I have got to have better information. This is the worst group of Seers I’ve ever had.” She muttered a long string of obscenities then drew in a deep breath.

She nodded slowly, her gaze slicing back to him. “You got pretty chummy with this non-ascending ascendiate, didn’t you? She pretty?”

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Tall, so she’d fit me like a glove. I wanted my arms around her, my fangs at her neck, and a helluva lot more. “Very pretty,” he said in as flat a voice as he could manage.

“Cut the crap, Kerrick. Do you think I can’t read your mind? So you have a thing for her.”

What was the use pretending? There was a good chance Endelle knew his thoughts even before he had them. “More than I should. Unreasonably.”

“Huh.” She narrowed her eyes. “You smell anything fragrant on her?”

Lavender, he sent. Fields of it. He just couldn’t say it out loud.

“Well, this has to be shit for you because it sounds like the breh-hedden.”

He stared at her, held her gaze. “I didn’t think it existed. We all thought it was a myth.”

Endelle shook her head. “It’s rare but the damn thing exists. I’ve seen it in action a few times over the course of my fucked-up life. And it can be a real bitch so good luck with that.” She laughed.

He didn’t see anything funny in the potent exchange he’d had with Alison. A thought occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes. “Did you know this was going to happen when you sent me over there?”

“I had a hunch.”

“Fuck.”

“You know if this is the breh-hedden, you’re not going to have much control over it.”

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to even acknowledge the possibility that something so powerful and apparently irresistible was dogging his heels.

He shook his head. “Won’t matter if this is the breh-hedden or not.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Oh, yeah, you took vows. Idiot. Death happens. Get used to it, for Christ’s sake. And what was it, two hundred years ago? Hannah knew the risks. Give her some goddamn credit.”

His jaw turned to stone. “Helena,” he muttered. “My wife’s name was Helena.”

She stood up, planted her hands on her desk, then leaned forward. Her wings turned black, unfurled to the fifteen-foot ceiling, and popped into an aggressive drawn-back position. “Don’t you dare take that fucking tone with me, Warrior, or I’ll have your wings—literally—feather by feather.”

She could do it, too. But for just this moment, he wanted to tell her to take them all, right here, right now, and shove them up her ass because he was sick of all this fucking bullshit, the death, the addicted bloodsucking vampires, the mortal children drained and left in goddamn alleys, and of battling a psychopath like the Commander. He leaned toward her. Yeah, just do it, he sent.

She stared at him for a long tense moment, her wings extended as high as they could go, each apex rounded, the feathers fluttering at the tips. Suddenly she barked her laughter, brought her wings to half-mount, then sat down in her chair once more. She again settled into the nest of her wings. “Hell, no. Why should you be set free? Suck it up like the rest of us. Besides, I don’t get why you’re still upset after all this time.”

He lowered his chin. “It’s simple, Endelle. You’ve never had children. When you do and you lose them because of who you are then you’ll have the right to tell me to just get over it.”

Endelle grimaced. “Whatever.”

Kerrick wanted to leave. If he had been capable of folding he would have lifted an arm and vanished with a sweet fuck you on his lips. “So are we through here, or what?”

“Yeah.”

He turned to go, but she called out, “Wait. One more thing.”

Something in her tone sent a warning chill straight down his wing-locks. He glanced back at her but she didn’t speak. Instead she chewed on her lower lip, and Endelle never chewed on her lower lip. He got a very sick feeling in the bottom of his gut. All his instincts fired up like the steam engines on the Titanic. “Spill,” he commanded.

“I’ve recalled Marcus.” She actually looked a little guilty.

Kerrick’s nostrils flared. He sucked in air. His shoulders bunched into hard muscles. His biceps twitched and his hands curled into two deadly fists. “You did what?”

“We need him.”

He shook his head. “Like hell we do,” he bellowed.

She rose again, once more meeting his aggression head-on. “We need him because the Commander is importing death vamps from every territory of Second Earth at the rate of fifty a day—even with all my efforts to the contrary—and even if you and your warrior brothers only take down thirty or forty, do the goddamn math!”

He shook his head.

“What? You don’t believe me? Then tell me, what language did the squadron from last night speak, the one out at the White Tanks?”

He glared at her, but his face felt burned like he’d been standing in a powerful wind for days.

“They came from the Republic of Chad and spoke Sangho.”

Of course she was right, he just hadn’t stopped to think about the various nationalities he’d been fighting over the past several months. He’d just figured the Commander was ramping up his effort to keep the brothers working overtime, wearing them out. And fuck, it was working.

“So don’t you dare stand there and tell me we don’t need Marcus. We do. He’ll show up sometime later tonight and in case you’re wondering, he’s not happy, either. But the two of you had better find some way to get along. I’m putting you on guardian duty and he’s taking your place at the Borderlands. We need this ascendiate. The only thing my fucking Seers were able to tell me was that Alison Wells tips the balance of power and if she ends up dead, our world will suffer for it.”

Kerrick stiffened. There were so many things wrong with this situation he didn’t know where to start. But the most significant thought rose swiftly into his head and before he could screen the words, he cried out, “If that sonofabitch puts one hand on her, I’ll kill him.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Go home and take a goddamn cold shower.”

He was ready to argue but she lifted a hand and the next moment he was on his knees sliding across his basement floor. His hands shook and didn’t stop even after he clenched his fingers into tight fights.

Marcus?

Here?

Hell, no.

Hell the fuck no.

Evil forges a tornado.

But goodness battles in a straight line.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth

Chapter 5

Why couldn’t she remember?

What couldn’t she remember?

Alison had the worst feeling she had forgotten something so important that her life depended on it, which was silly of course, yet the nagging sensation remained.

She stood in front of the Venetian mirror in her master bath. She bent over slightly, swung her long blond hair off to the right, and tied the strings of the silk halter at the back of her neck. Was she really going to do this?