from the first time he’d laid eyes on him nine centuries ago, when the bastard had ascended. In very monk-like fashion, he’d worn black robes and a solemn demeanor—except he’d styled and pomaded his hair, even back then.
Stannett licked his lips.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just say it,” Endelle cried.
His gaze shifted to Medichi. “Just save the woman, at all costs. And … well, make sure she uses her wings to good effect.”
“You mean her royle wings,” Endelle stated.
Everyone knew about Parisa’s royle wings, and now they knew that Medichi’s were the same. They both had wings that promised in some mystical way to bring peace to the land.
Stannett nodded. “Yes. Precisely.” He lifted his arm and before any of them could press for more information, he was gone.
Medichi didn’t wait. He closed his eyes and felt the man’s trace, the line of power that followed after him. He focused on the stream of red and black, Stannett’s unique signature, and dematerialized in pursuit.
But he hit some kind of metaphysical wall and woke up in Endelle’s office on his back staring up at Thorne and Endelle. Shit, how long had he been out? “What happened?” he asked.
Endelle made a disgusted wet sound in her throat and turned away from him.
Thorne offered him a hand. “What made you think you could trace after Stannett? He’s almost as powerful as Greaves.”
Medichi took the proffered hand. He saw stars as he gained his feet. He took deep breaths. Oh, shit. The future streams had predicted not just Parisa’s death but dire consequences for Second Earth if she died. He had to find her, but what more could he do? It was all up to either Central’s grid, or right now the grid at Militia HQ. Would they find her in time?
Endelle stared out the window that overlooked the east desert, which stretched for miles. The Superstition Seers Fortress lay some sixty miles in the same direction, to the place also known as Thunder God Mountain. “What a poser,” she muttered. “Although, I did like some of that embroidery, especially the yellow flowers.”
As Medichi recovered from his ill-advised pursuit, his mind settled into a loop: Battle coming, must find Parisa, battle, Parisa. “I have to find Parisa,” he said. Had he spoken the words aloud?
Thorne clapped his hand on Medichi’s shoulder. “We’ve got the grid burning juice at Militia HQ. Hang tough. We’ll find her. We’ll bring her home.”
Medichi met Thorne’s red-rimmed eyes and saw reflected what Medichi felt, panic laced with despair. Shit, what more could they do to find her? What if Parisa was killed before he could get to her?
Thorne squeezed. “The best thing you can do is get back to the White Tanks. Burma’s too big a place for any of us to hunt mile by mile for a shielded anomaly. Head over to the Borderland and take care of business. This is what we can do right now. This is what we can control. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Fighting would be best. He’d go mad if he had to sit around for hours with nothing to do but wait for some inexplicable blip.
“One more thing, keep a lid on this Seer information for now, until Endelle and I and maybe Colonel Seriffe can work out a strategy, okay?”
“You don’t want the brothers knowing?”
“Not yet.” Thorne scowled. “Got it?”
Medichi didn’t exactly agree with the decision but yeah, right now his job was focused more on the keep-Parisa-safe part of the model rather than oh-God-Armageddon-is-coming.
Okay. One fucking problem at a time. Right now that meant he needed to work to keep death vampires from reaching Mortal Earth.
He folded back to the White Tanks.
***
The hour was nine at night in Burma, which meant seven thirty in the morning in Phoenix. Almost time for Antony.
Parisa had been opening her voyeur’s window every fifteen minutes, but she focused her efforts on just his bedroom. If she voyeured Antony himself, she was afraid she’d find him battling death
Stannett licked his lips.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just say it,” Endelle cried.
His gaze shifted to Medichi. “Just save the woman, at all costs. And … well, make sure she uses her wings to good effect.”
“You mean her royle wings,” Endelle stated.
Everyone knew about Parisa’s royle wings, and now they knew that Medichi’s were the same. They both had wings that promised in some mystical way to bring peace to the land.
Stannett nodded. “Yes. Precisely.” He lifted his arm and before any of them could press for more information, he was gone.
Medichi didn’t wait. He closed his eyes and felt the man’s trace, the line of power that followed after him. He focused on the stream of red and black, Stannett’s unique signature, and dematerialized in pursuit.
But he hit some kind of metaphysical wall and woke up in Endelle’s office on his back staring up at Thorne and Endelle. Shit, how long had he been out? “What happened?” he asked.
Endelle made a disgusted wet sound in her throat and turned away from him.
Thorne offered him a hand. “What made you think you could trace after Stannett? He’s almost as powerful as Greaves.”
Medichi took the proffered hand. He saw stars as he gained his feet. He took deep breaths. Oh, shit. The future streams had predicted not just Parisa’s death but dire consequences for Second Earth if she died. He had to find her, but what more could he do? It was all up to either Central’s grid, or right now the grid at Militia HQ. Would they find her in time?
Endelle stared out the window that overlooked the east desert, which stretched for miles. The Superstition Seers Fortress lay some sixty miles in the same direction, to the place also known as Thunder God Mountain. “What a poser,” she muttered. “Although, I did like some of that embroidery, especially the yellow flowers.”
As Medichi recovered from his ill-advised pursuit, his mind settled into a loop: Battle coming, must find Parisa, battle, Parisa. “I have to find Parisa,” he said. Had he spoken the words aloud?
Thorne clapped his hand on Medichi’s shoulder. “We’ve got the grid burning juice at Militia HQ. Hang tough. We’ll find her. We’ll bring her home.”
Medichi met Thorne’s red-rimmed eyes and saw reflected what Medichi felt, panic laced with despair. Shit, what more could they do to find her? What if Parisa was killed before he could get to her?
Thorne squeezed. “The best thing you can do is get back to the White Tanks. Burma’s too big a place for any of us to hunt mile by mile for a shielded anomaly. Head over to the Borderland and take care of business. This is what we can do right now. This is what we can control. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Fighting would be best. He’d go mad if he had to sit around for hours with nothing to do but wait for some inexplicable blip.
“One more thing, keep a lid on this Seer information for now, until Endelle and I and maybe Colonel Seriffe can work out a strategy, okay?”
“You don’t want the brothers knowing?”
“Not yet.” Thorne scowled. “Got it?”
Medichi didn’t exactly agree with the decision but yeah, right now his job was focused more on the keep-Parisa-safe part of the model rather than oh-God-Armageddon-is-coming.
Okay. One fucking problem at a time. Right now that meant he needed to work to keep death vampires from reaching Mortal Earth.
He folded back to the White Tanks.
***
The hour was nine at night in Burma, which meant seven thirty in the morning in Phoenix. Almost time for Antony.
Parisa had been opening her voyeur’s window every fifteen minutes, but she focused her efforts on just his bedroom. If she voyeured Antony himself, she was afraid she’d find him battling death
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