the fortress. He can block a trace just like Rith. Would you use your head? Just for one little minute?”
Medichi wasn’t insulted—not when Thorne was right. From the second he’d realized he’d been staring at a time-delayed hologram of Parisa, that Rith had abducted his woman essentially right from under his nose, Medichi had lost a good portion of his rational mind. He was more beast than man, the darkest parts of his ascended vampire nature in the fore.
Why wouldn’t he be? Parisa had been gone from him for three months and guilt was like a gut-eating worm in his soul. Sure, Jeannie might get a fix on her at any time now, but it didn’t change what had happened.
Thorne cupped the back of his neck and held his gaze in a hard stare. “Stannett has critical information about the war straight from his most powerful Seer. All right? If you pull another stunt like this one, I’ll have to take you out of here, but the bottom line is that Stannett requested your presence.”
Medichi frowned. “He did?”
“Yeah. So, how about you pull it together.”
“Yes, Warrior Medichi,” Stannett said. “I have news that concerns you as well as the woman, the mortal-with-wings.”
Medichi grew very still as these words settled into his brain. All the previous jumping and twitching melted away along with his urge to pound his fist into Stannett’s pretty face.
“We good now?” Thorne asked. He commanded the Warriors of the Blood for a reason. He was damn powerful. Then Thorne smiled, a little off to the side of his mouth. “Yeah, I want to kill him, too, but we can’t do it just yet. Not if he knows anything that will help us keep Greaves from taking over Second Earth.”
Something inside Medichi finally let go. His next breath came from way down deep, and his shoulders settled down. Shit, they’d been tightened into a pair of bowling balls.
He glanced at the High Administrator of the Superstition Seers Fortress. “Sorry, Stannett. Lost my head.”
Endelle decided to enter the conversation. “Why don’t you just tell Medichi what you told me.”
Stannett drew in a deep breath. “One of my Seers witnessed something in the future streams about the mortal-with-wings, the woman Parisa Lovejoy, the one with the amethyst eyes. Is this the one you are missing?”
“Yes,” Medichi barked at the same time as Endelle.
“For three months now, Stannett,” Endelle said. “You’d know that if you didn’t spend all your time in that Seers Fortress of yours with your balls in one hand and your dick in the other.”
Stannett’s left brow rose and he appeared to swallow, bile maybe, or maybe his rage. Endelle could be hard to take.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” he said, his right arm rising in the air, the universal signal that he intended to dematerialize.
“Now, now, Stannett, come off your high horse,” Endelle said. “We’re here and we’re listening. But what I really want to know is why you’ve broken your silence after all these years. That’s not like you, which means there’s something else going on, something you may or may not want to tell us. In fact, I think it chaps your hide to even be standing here in my office.”
A dozen thoughts streamed over his face, quiet messages of frustration, anger, maybe a sense of being torn. Finally, he smiled, that oily false smile of his. He lowered his arm then waved the hand as though the visit were casual. “We need to be better friends than this, Endelle. I’ve always thought so.”
“Hard to be friends with a python.”
For some reason, Stannett laughed. Medichi had the impression that Endelle could hurl a thousand insults at him and it wouldn’t matter. He’d made up his mind about something.
He settled an elbow on the mantel of the fireplace, which drew his leather jacket open. Medichi scowled. He wore a red leather vest cut low to reveal a lot of black curly chest hair. He was a strange man, affected, weird. Just looking at him made
Medichi wasn’t insulted—not when Thorne was right. From the second he’d realized he’d been staring at a time-delayed hologram of Parisa, that Rith had abducted his woman essentially right from under his nose, Medichi had lost a good portion of his rational mind. He was more beast than man, the darkest parts of his ascended vampire nature in the fore.
Why wouldn’t he be? Parisa had been gone from him for three months and guilt was like a gut-eating worm in his soul. Sure, Jeannie might get a fix on her at any time now, but it didn’t change what had happened.
Thorne cupped the back of his neck and held his gaze in a hard stare. “Stannett has critical information about the war straight from his most powerful Seer. All right? If you pull another stunt like this one, I’ll have to take you out of here, but the bottom line is that Stannett requested your presence.”
Medichi frowned. “He did?”
“Yeah. So, how about you pull it together.”
“Yes, Warrior Medichi,” Stannett said. “I have news that concerns you as well as the woman, the mortal-with-wings.”
Medichi grew very still as these words settled into his brain. All the previous jumping and twitching melted away along with his urge to pound his fist into Stannett’s pretty face.
“We good now?” Thorne asked. He commanded the Warriors of the Blood for a reason. He was damn powerful. Then Thorne smiled, a little off to the side of his mouth. “Yeah, I want to kill him, too, but we can’t do it just yet. Not if he knows anything that will help us keep Greaves from taking over Second Earth.”
Something inside Medichi finally let go. His next breath came from way down deep, and his shoulders settled down. Shit, they’d been tightened into a pair of bowling balls.
He glanced at the High Administrator of the Superstition Seers Fortress. “Sorry, Stannett. Lost my head.”
Endelle decided to enter the conversation. “Why don’t you just tell Medichi what you told me.”
Stannett drew in a deep breath. “One of my Seers witnessed something in the future streams about the mortal-with-wings, the woman Parisa Lovejoy, the one with the amethyst eyes. Is this the one you are missing?”
“Yes,” Medichi barked at the same time as Endelle.
“For three months now, Stannett,” Endelle said. “You’d know that if you didn’t spend all your time in that Seers Fortress of yours with your balls in one hand and your dick in the other.”
Stannett’s left brow rose and he appeared to swallow, bile maybe, or maybe his rage. Endelle could be hard to take.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” he said, his right arm rising in the air, the universal signal that he intended to dematerialize.
“Now, now, Stannett, come off your high horse,” Endelle said. “We’re here and we’re listening. But what I really want to know is why you’ve broken your silence after all these years. That’s not like you, which means there’s something else going on, something you may or may not want to tell us. In fact, I think it chaps your hide to even be standing here in my office.”
A dozen thoughts streamed over his face, quiet messages of frustration, anger, maybe a sense of being torn. Finally, he smiled, that oily false smile of his. He lowered his arm then waved the hand as though the visit were casual. “We need to be better friends than this, Endelle. I’ve always thought so.”
“Hard to be friends with a python.”
For some reason, Stannett laughed. Medichi had the impression that Endelle could hurl a thousand insults at him and it wouldn’t matter. He’d made up his mind about something.
He settled an elbow on the mantel of the fireplace, which drew his leather jacket open. Medichi scowled. He wore a red leather vest cut low to reveal a lot of black curly chest hair. He was a strange man, affected, weird. Just looking at him made
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