She hated the war, its seemingly endless nature. Even getting rid of Greaves had only shifted the ongoing conflict and in some ways had made it worse. In one month, the activity at all the Metro Phoenix Two Borderlands had quadrupled, putting heavy pressure on those warriors assigned to Borderland duty.
“This was my last day at HQ,” she said. “I’m transferring to Fiona’s rehab center to begin my counseling internship. I start next week.” At that, he met her gaze. She knew the tight set of her lips matched his now.
He nodded. “You’ll be doing important work.”
“What I did here was important work, just different.” She drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
“I’m committed to building a new life for myself and that doesn’t include connecting with warriors on any level. I’m…I’m not built for this. Do you understand?” He nodded and his frown deepened.
“Okay.” She believed they’d reached an understanding. “But I’ll probably have to touch you to take you out of this place.” Her instincts told her that much.
“So where are we exactly? Do you know?” Vela thought about Havily and all that she’d said. “I’m pretty sure we’re in the darkening.” He whistled. “You have that kind of power?” She shrugged. “Apparently, but I’m not happy about it.” At that, he smiled, a kind of weary smile that squeezed her heart. He huffed a sigh. “I can relate,” he said. “Oh, boy, can I relate.” In this moment, she knew two things; Samuel was too damn attractive and she actually liked him.
Without giving him a warning, she closed the distance between them, grabbed hold of his arm, and took him on a quick ride out of their hiding place.
She released him at once, letting her hand fall to her side. She flexed her fingers several times but other than that, she didn’t move away from him. She felt a powerful need to remain close.
Everyone had left except Havily, Jean-Pierre, and Luken.
Luken then gave the orders. “Vela, we’d like you to go with Havily and talk this over with her, even take a couple of trips into the darkening and explore this power with her.” His gaze shifted to Samuel and he drew in a deep breath.
“I’ve persuaded Thorne and Endelle to back off a little. I reminded Thorne that when Marguerite left Second Earth he actually abandoned his post to follow her.
But we both agree on one thing, that you need to work with Jean-Pierre and get this power of yours figured out. You already know that one of Jean-Pierre’s gifts is facilitation, so will you at least agree to work with him?” Vela glanced up at Samuel. He met her gaze briefly, but his jaw looked pretty stiff. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, “but if I feel anyone’s in danger from the nature of my power, I’m out of here.” Warrior Luken opened his mouth to speak, but apparently rethought his words because he closed his mouth, nodded, then said, “We thought when Endelle defeated Greaves that we would enjoy a long period of peace, that, moving forward, our primary tasks would be to dismantle his army and pursue every last death vampire he created to the ends of the earth. Then our job would be done.
“We didn’t anticipate three generals off the grid with nearly a million warriors under their different commands. But that’s what we’ve got. One month after the battle at White Lake, and we’re in deeper than ever. You know this.”
“I do,” Samuel said.
Luken met his gaze squarely. “Do your best. No leader can ask for more.”
“I will.” Luken’s lips curved. “And you always have. Plus, I can think of more than one time you’ve had my back in the field over the past few months.” He glanced at Vela. “Will you do the same, Ascender Vela?”
“Yes, of course.” He smiled softly. “I knew your husband. He was a good man.”
“One of your finest,” Vela said, her throat closing up tight.
Luken nodded several times. “I have to go now. I have assignments to pass out at the Cave.” He glanced from Havily to Jean-Pierre. “If you’ll report in later, that would be great.” After both Jean-Pierre and Havily nodded their assents, Luken headed toward the doors and the long march to the landing platforms.
Havily met Vela’s gaze, her eyes full of compassion. “Why don’t we go to my office at Administrative HQ?” She inclined her head toward the same doors through which Luken had just disappeared. Vela agreed and put her feet in motion. But each step felt strange, like she was leaving something important behind, maybe the most important thing in her long ascended life.
Samuel’s head had finally cleared, but he was still reeling.
The breh-hedden.
He didn’t get it. Why him?
Jean-Pierre headed to the closest set of risers and waved Samuel forward to join him. Samuel followed.
Jean-Pierre sat down then stretched out his long, lean muscular frame by planting his elbows on the riser step behind him and crossing his feet at the ankles. “You must tell me what is going on with you, Samuel. I have learned something during these months of training so many different Militia Warriors. There are times when only drills and working hard will do, but right now I believe we must talk.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bench to his right.
Samuel knew this had to be done but he didn’t like it and he was definitely too tense to lean back like Jean-Pierre.
Instead, he sat forward, his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped together, his thoughts still full of Vela and the breh- hedden, of the last glimpse of her thick, wavy, unruly hair swaying behind her as she walked away.
He glanced at Jean-Pierre. He thought for sure that the strange vampire mate-bonding that had been making its way through the Warriors of the Blood, would have taken down another What-Bee this time, instead of his own fucked up self. But then Gideon had been struck by the myth and he was still a mere Militia Warrior, although everyone agreed he fought at Warrior of the Blood status.
But Gideon deserved the accolade, the power. He’d been a leader among the Thunder God Warriors for a long time.
Samuel only served as support to another Section Leader, and part of that time he’d been roped up, tortured, and now endowed with some kind of power, a portion of which he couldn’t control. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He could have hurt Vela when he released his power. That he hadn’t seemed like some kind of miracle.
Jean-Pierre spoke forcefully. “Tell me about your dark power, mon ami. Tell me what you fear about its nature.”
“This power,” he began, his gaze dropping to the nearest black mat, “came out of my captivity, as a direct result of what I went through, how I survived.” His sense of rage and shame descended on him like a waterfall of remembered pain. The experience was a blur of hurt, blood- hunger, and food starvation. He’d blocked out a lot of it, but there were times, especially during the first few months of his release, when he woke up sweating and half out of his mind.
During the years of his captivity, his survival had required that he grow in strength, but what had come of it was a dark power that he couldn’t control. For the entire last year, while tortured, he’d released the smoky misty from his body, but up until the moment that Duncan showed up, his power had been benign.
Maybe seeing Duncan had jump- started the other part of his dark power, the uncontrolled part, but he’d never really know. Streams of energy had started to pour from him, in addition to the smoky mist, and through the Creator’s grace he’d been able to warn Duncan to fold the hell out of there. But the slaves, unable to leave the grounds, had perished to the last man and Samuel lived with the guilt of those undeserved deaths.
He’d always liked the Frenchman, trusted him. For that reason, he told Jean- Pierre everything, his voice low, the words flat as they left his mouth.
“Merde.” Jean-Pierre shook his head slowly back and forth. “And you say when you escaped, these streams of energy reached out and attacked those around you, without discrimination?”
“That’s the best way to explain it.”
“I understand now why you held back. I apologize for yelling at you.”
“You were just doing your job. The problem is that when I release the mist- based part of my power, I can never feel the streams, so I have no way of knowing what they are or what would cause them to appear.” Still leaning forward, he rubbed the back of his neck. “And now the breh- hedden.”
“Oui, and now the curse-that-is-not- a-curse. I understand your woman is to work at the rehab center with my breh, with Fiona?” He nodded. He wanted Vela to go on with her plans, to fulfill a dream that had nothing to do with death vampires and darkening work. “I don’t want to see this power developed or utilized.”
“Mais, Samuel,” Jean-Pierre said, his French adding another syllable to his name, “You cannot deny that you single- handedly saved a Warrior of the Blood last night. So, how can you say your power should not be encouraged, brought forward, strengthened? You battled like a Warrior of the Blood.
Do you understand?”
“Yes, but what if I killed someone accidentally. I couldn’t live with that.”
“Then we should work together, you and I, in a controlled space, with no one else around.” He even smiled. “I am not without power myself, so I believe I could take these streams because, as you said, they did not kill immediately, but took some time.”
“But I couldn’t stop them. That’s my point. I watched these men die.”
“Will you let me help you, if I am able? Perhaps this will become more about separating these powers, encouraging the dark mist and accompanying power while perhaps setting shields in place to block the energy streams.” He turned and met Jean-Pierre’s gaze. “That would be the right place to begin. But are you sure.” Jean-Pierre narrowed his gaze. “If you feel the streams emerge, warn me, and I will fold.” Samuel rose to his feet. “Then let’s do this thing.”
