“It’s okay. I will heal very fast.” He dragged her into his arms and held her tight. “He almost had us. Both of us. He used some kind of mind control. I couldn’t think straight. I barely made it up the hill to get to you.”
Grace pushed back. “He promised me so many wonderful things, to bring peace to Second Earth, no more war, if I would just go with him. He had me in thrall.” She shuddered.
“He’s gone. But we can’t stay here. He got through Endelle’s mist.”
“How could he have known where I was?” Even as she spoke the words, she understood. “Stannett and the future streams.” She shook her head and slid her arms around Leto’s neck. “Leto, we’re in trouble. Greaves divided us, even though we’re bonded. He found me because of the future streams. I … I don’t know what to do. Where do we go? Where do we hide that he can’t find us?”
* * *
Greaves folded back to his penthouse in Geneva and collapsed on the floor in the living room, facedown. His fingers grasped the thick carpet, and he squeezed. He experienced a profound preternatural exhaustion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d exerted so much effort. Trying to gain control over two extremely powerful ascenders at the same time had used him up.
So much power. His body vibrated with what he’d felt from both Grace and Leto. Greaves had power, but he’d just attempted the impossible, to wrest a woman from her breh.
Maybe he would have succeeded if Casimir hadn’t joined Leto in his fight against the death vampires. Even then, the shield he’d put around Leto should have kept him immobile. But Leto wasn’t himself anymore. He had somehow gained the power to transform into a Third Earth warrior.
The entire time he’d been working at breaking Grace’s will, he had felt Leto’s impossible walk up the hill to Diallo’s house. At least Casimir had been unable to help him fold to Greaves’s position.
Grace. My God.
There was something within Grace’s power structure, because it was anchored by the earth, that was both highly compassionate and at the same time incredibly erotic, unlike anything he’d ever known. He panted as he lay on his carpet.
Grace would never be sadistic, but she had power that vibrated along the insides of his thighs and up through his testicles. For a woman who espoused all things spiritual, she was surely a reincarnation of Aphrodite. She could command him if she understood her power. That she didn’t and probably never would was the only real advantage he had in this situation. He couldn’t be manipulated by her because it would never occur to her to make the attempt.
Greaves had been so close with Grace, so close to getting her to surrender. By the rules of COPASS, neither he nor Endelle could kill anyone outright or abduct them. And though he had over a third of COPASS in his pocket, he knew an outright abduction wouldn’t be overlooked by those members of the ruling committee who still held to their morals.
For just a moment, however, he had debated taking her and having her killed immediately, which would have ended the obsidian flame threat.
But the repercussions would have been swift. Endelle would have gone to Prague and argued against him in front of the entire COPASS committee. He was simply unwilling to take that kind of risk at this late hour, not with a decisive battle looming before him.
He could feel the battle coming now, and with it his chance at securing his ambitions. In so many ways, he was fully prepared. He even had an ace up his sleeve, something no one knew about. If all else failed, he would use this specialized power and hopefully overcome whatever odds presented themselves.
Yet because of a mere woman, the key to obsidian flame, he was living a nightmare. All his plans had come down to Grace and her ability to fulfill the power latent in the triad. He understood that once a triad came together, there was always one member who could acquire the abilities of other ascenders. The nature of the power or ability didn’t matter—from wielding a sword to healing the mind to throwing hand-blasts. Once that triad member learned the skill, obsidian flame could then magnify that skill a thousandfold. He knew for a fact that there was at least one triad operating on Third Earth. He had witnessed for himself a valley of warriors slain by a single hand-blast, and in turn he had seen a hundred thousand people folded out of the path of a flash flood.
If only he’d had been able to persuade Grace to surrender to him, he could have turned her over to his favorite death vampires and let them dispose of her.
But she had held steady to the end. He had failed.
His blood finally settled down so that he could ease himself up off the floor. He showered and changed into a fresh Hugo Boss suit. He put on his pinkie ring of black onyx. He would head to Estrella next and continue working military strategies with his generals.
Before leaving, Greaves checked on Julianna, his current love-slave. She was facedown on the bed, naked, a sheet just covering her bu**ocks. Her wing-locks were torn but healing well. Their last session had been one of the best yet. Despite his arousal while feeling Grace’s earth-based power, Julianna was his preference. The claw that he could bring forth from his DNA-altered left hand tingled at the thought that she might be healed as early as noon, at which time they could enjoy another energetic half hour or so.
He glanced at her nightstand and frowned. There was a vase with at least two dozen long-stemmed peach-colored roses in it. He saw a card on the table.
He wondered if someone was attempting to seduce his woman. Casimir had once held Julianna captive in his Paris One apartment. Maybe he wasn’t as reformed as he appeared.
Greaves moved to the table and read the card. He couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes he thought he and Stannett were brothers. The words on the card, in Stannett’s hand, were very simple, “Grace has come home. Casimir, too.”
He saw something gleam behind the vase. Ah, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Julianna had needed some solace.
He leaned down and kissed one of the upper shredded wing-locks. “Patience,” he whispered. “You will have your chance to destroy one or both of them, I have no doubt.”
Grace had stolen Caz away from her, and to a woman of Julianna’s temperament, that was an unforgiveable sin.
* * *
Grace sat across from Leto in the Apache Two conference room, her arms folded over her chest. It was past midnight now, and all the events of the day and evening had taken a toll. She was beyond exhausted. But no decision had been made yet about where they would settle down for the rest of the night. Leto had reverted to his normal size, and he’d changed from his stained battle gear into jeans and a dark T-shirt. He’d even showered in the Militia Warriors locker room.