Wolrd of Ascension 01 - Ascension Page 11

  Fifteen years ago her fiancé, a dedicated Militia Warrior, had been taken from her, his body brutalized by a death vamp and drained of his precious blood. Since that time Havily had lived with a fire in her belly, driven to make sure that his death had not been in vain.

  She had met him shortly after his transfer from Los Angeles to Phoenix. She had fallen for him so fast, a brilliant tumbling that had led to a betrothal a mere six months into his tour of duty in the Valley of the Sun.

  She had waited a long time for love, nearly one full century from the time of her ascension. Losing Eric, after having waited for decades for exactly the right man to come along, had destroyed her heart, her belief that she would ever know love in this ascended world.

  Her life had been altered irrevocably when he had failed to come home after his shift, when she’d received the dreaded call, when she’d learned of his horrible fate.

  Yet out of her suffering her passion had been born, passion for finding a way to change the course of the war. Above all, she had promised herself that Eric’s death would not be in vain.

  Unable to serve on the front lines, since she was in no way suited to wield a sword, she applied herself to figuring out what she could do. The more she researched the difficulties facing Madame Endelle as Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth, especially from the time the first High Administrator defected to the Commander’s side, the more she saw what needed to be done. Call it a vision, but she knew, she knew, that a completely redesigned military-administration complex would go a long way to preventing more defections from the ranks of the High Administrators.

  And tonight she would begin the process of making a difference in her world.

  She smiled. She looked through the window at the night skyline visible from her Camelback Mountain home. Her town house was situated at the foothills, and the location gave her a stellar view of South Mountain as well as Endelle’s administrative headquarters farther to the east. She had bought this house in order to be close to Madame Endelle’s place of rule.

  Still buzzing with excitement, she hurried to her office. Madame Endelle had demanded her immediate presence, so she had only a handful of minutes to make her preparations. Her primary concern was which of her presentations to take with her. She immediately dismissed the idea of PowerPoint since it would involve setting up a screen, running cables, and interfacing with a computer and digital projector. She sighed. Endelle would not have the patience for setup time.

  She wished she had the preternatural ability of presenting her vision directly from her mind to the screen. However, to her knowledge no one could stream mental images, at least not on Second Earth. Maybe Third or Fourth, but not Second. There were a great many limitations to personal power on Second.

  Okay. No PowerPoint.

  Still, she smiled. She could not believe this was happening. Madame Endelle had summoned her. All her e-mails had finally gotten through. Or perhaps her beautifully crafted professional correspondence, for which she used the best letterhead with a watermark depicting a pair of full-mount wings, her own design. In the end, she had only one real choice, a project that had taken a full three years of off-hours to create. On a table tucked into a corner to the right of the door sat a large portable display case, in black leather, which bore a sturdy handle.

  The size of the case was deceptive. Once she set the case on the table and unlatched the sides, the cleverly designed multi-layered complex, coupled with her telekinetic powers, rose to a height of five feet, spreading some eight feet in length and another three feet in width. She had worked with an architect for months to get every detail exactly right.

  Beyond the excellence of the architectural display, she was ready for this moment. She had practiced her presentation over and over. Fifteen years of hard work and she now had her meeting.

  She waved a hand and changed into her best Ralph Lauren jacket, black of course, including a black pleat-front blouse. She wore four-inch heels, putting her at six-two and hopefully somewhere near Madame Endelle’s six-five height depending on the size of heels the Supreme High Administrator wore. Havily intended to leave nothing to chance.

  She stepped in front of a full-length mirror. Appearances were important, especially to Her Supremeness. She chided herself for using the slang appellation. Madame Endelle. Madame Endelle. She repeated the words and kept her voice clipped and formal.

  She scrutinized her reflection. She didn’t have time to affect a formal chignon so she left her hair loose, a flow of soft peachy-red over her black suit. She nodded. Her makeup was still flawless from the morning’s effort. Thank God for improved cosmetics on Second Earth. She nodded again.

  Her eyes, however, were a little bloodshot, not unexpected given the lateness of the hour.

  No more stalling. Havily Morgan, get your beautiful self over there … now.

  She went back to her office then took the display case in hand. With her briefcase in the other, she thought the thought then folded into the building that housed the administrative offices. She moved quickly to the wide glass entrance of Endelle’s suite. The interior was dark, of course, because the admins had already long since gone home for the night.

  She stepped in front of the sliding doors. Nothing happened.

  She tried several times.

  She drew her phone into her hand and thumbed.

  “Central.” She recognized Jeannie’s voice. Something about her tone eased Havily. She had no idea why, although she’d always heard that the women chosen to work at Central—and they were always women—had a calming effect on the warriors.

  “Good evening again, Jeannie. I’m outside the offices, but the doors are locked and everything’s dark. Are you sure Madame Endelle is here?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jeannie drawled. “Her Supremeness has been holding court and wrecking everyone’s night for the past six hours. She’s there. I’ll give her a holler.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  She thumbed her phone and as she waited, her heart once more took to hammering inside her chest. Yes, indeed, there were many changes that needed to be made.

  And they began tonight.

  * * *

  After ten minutes of being back in her home, Alison finally stopped trembling. Yet her mind still spun like a top and couldn’t seem to land.

  Her head wagged back and forth. This couldn’t be happening.

  Vampires?

  She stood bewildered in her family room staring at a wall of books, her favorite books, collected from the time she was a child. She stretched her hand out toward them, toward that which was familiar, trying to find purchase for her spinning thoughts and fears.

  Vampires.

  My God, they really did have fangs and suck down blood.

  They enthralled and used women.

  She should never have gone to the Blood and Bite but the dreams had called to her and then the club’s business card had appeared at her feet.

  And the longings, oh the longings, which never stopped.

  She took deep breaths, one after the next.

  A new, horrific thought intruded. She crouched then turned 360, looking around for an intruder, examining every shadowy pocket of the rooms she could see—the front entry, the living room, the open kitchen, the hall leading to the master bedroom suite. What if one of those creatures had followed her here? Could they even do that? Did they know how to dematerialize like she did? What if they now knew where she lived?

  She held her breath and waited, listening hard for the smallest movement, the smallest sign she had been followed.

  Finally, after several minutes, she took her first deep breath, concluding she was safe, at least for now.

  The club had been too much, a radio on full blast in a confined space—the fanged men at the necks of women, the red velvet booths, the Armani twins.

  She put a hand to her head and rubbed her temple. The headache had returned, this time deep inside her brain, a throb that made her think of migraines and goi
ng to bed for days.

  She sank to the green sculpted carpet in front of her coffee table. She slid off her Jimmy Choos and sat with her legs crossed in front of her. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands.

  Events at the club once more played over her mind. Despite the actions of the Armani duo, it was the other vampire who claimed her attention right now, the powerful creature who’d gone gorilla, his chin low to his chest, his fangs distended and pressed against his lips, his wild gaze fixed to hers, his powerful body tensed for action, his mind breaking through her shields.

  She had been overcome by his presence and even then she had thought, God, he’s gorgeous, thick wavy black hair drawn back from his face, angled stubborn jaw, light-colored eyes, the shade hard to determine in the flashing strobes of the club. He had tried to command her with his mind. So what exactly had his intention been? Had he meant to hurt her? She lifted her head and stared at all the rows of books. No, he wouldn’t have hurt her. He would have done something else. He would have taken her.

  She put her fingers to her mouth. A powerful wave of pure desire flowed through her body until her back arched and her mouth opened.

  A single thought shook her—she would have let him.

  Oh. God.

  Once more, as had happened for weeks now, a wave of painful longing swamped her chest. She struggled to breathe, unable to comprehend what she was feeling. Was she merely longing for him, for this oversized vampire, or was this something more?

  As she searched her heart, she knew she felt something greater than just a primitive mating urge. Her desire for this man, this vampire, was part of the need she felt, but not the whole.

  So what was this yearning that once more possessed her? For what exactly did she long?

  Tears burned her eyes. She was frustrated on so many levels. She just didn’t understand what was happening to her.

  After a few more minutes she realized her thoughts had begun to travel in an endless loop; nothing would be settled tonight. Suddenly she wanted a shower. She wanted her short skirt and sexy halter off her body.

  She rose from the carpet and headed to the master bedroom.

  She sighed. She lived alone in a house she had bought two years ago, a lovely piece of property in the north metro Phoenix area, in a community called Carefree.

  Carefree. Well, not tonight exactly.

  She crossed the living room and entered the hall, which led to the master suite. Once in the bathroom, she met her reflection in the mirror, the beautiful Venetian mirror her mother had bought for her as a housewarming present several years ago, when her practice was thriving and she had officially thought of herself as an adult.

  Right now, as she looked at her crimped curls and once more thought about what had happened at the club, she felt bad. Really bad. Why had she been born so different? Why couldn’t she have had even a single day of normal? Why did the one club she had checked out in over three years have to be full of … vampires?

  She swallowed the sudden knot in her throat. All right, so her life had just gotten a lot weirder, something she had not thought possible.

  Once more she recalled the gorgeous vampire who had moved like lightning in her direction. She had a profound feeling she had met him before.

  The moment the thought struck, the headache bloomed, only this time she dove deep within her mind, closing her eyes and focusing on the area in her brain that seemed to be causing her so much trouble.

  She explored the affected area and suddenly she could smell an intriguing spice, a very familiar spice … like cardamom. As though attempting to pull a sticky portion of adhesive tape from very tender skin, she started mentally plucking at the strange area. She winced. She prodded, poked, and peeled until at last the seal gave way.

  The memory beneath exploded and she grabbed the sink in front of her to steady herself.

  She saw it all, just as it had happened earlier in the evening while she stood on the catwalk outside her office, Darian beside her—the dead woman on the sidewalk, the police, the EMTs, the pale-skinned death vampire who had decided her blood needed to be down his throat.

  And … Kerrick. The warrior vampire with massive white wings. The vampire from the club, one-and-the-same. Warrior Kerrick who had protected her. Her knees buckled yet not in fear. She had been so into him. Desire once more ripped through her, pressing into the well of her abdomen.

  She had spoken with him, touched him, looked into his very green eyes. Yes, his eyes were green. She had wanted answers about—what was it he had said? Yes, about ascension. She had begged him not to take her memories. He had held her in his arms. He had nuzzled her neck. She had not wanted him to go.

  No wonder she had thought she would have given herself to him. She had met him before and he had saved her life. At that time, however, he’d been sporting wings, the angel-vampire, or whatever Kerrick was, the being that had fought the death vampire at the medical complex.

  As she clung to the sink, a familiar desperate sensation returned to her, an intense awareness that she had at long last met a man, a warrior, yes, even a vampire, who could match her in ability, who would not be afraid of knowing she could move from one room to the next with a mere thought, or move objects in a room around in the same way, or communicate telepathically. Kerrick would have no such fear or concern because he could do the same things and he wanted her.

  But … he was a vampire, for God’s sake.

  A vampire living in a different dimension.

  Yes. Same earth, different dimensions.

  Vampire.

  As the word settled in her mind, another wave of yearning swept over her so powerfully that she gripped the sink once more and hung on. The sensation intensified, gripping her lower back and riding up her spine. She felt her back muscles shift about. She felt strange tingles all along her back in a wide V-pattern. Wings.

  What was happening to her? Was she feeling the presence of wings? Wings?

  The sensations eased, drifted away, disappeared.

  Still she held on to the sink. She forced herself to breathe as tears dropped onto the white porcelain.

  Oh, God. Could her night get any stranger?

  After a few minutes, when she had absorbed the reality of the renewed memory, when her tears had ceased, when her heart beat in normal thuds within her chest, fatigue hit and she wanted her bed. Now.

  She stripped, got in the shower, then washed the crimp from her curls and all her makeup down the drain. As the hot water beat down on her shoulders, exhaustion took a toll.

  She had to get some sleep.

  Ready for bed at last, she climbed between the covers. She tried at first to force herself to sleep, but for a long time all she could think about was the warrior called Kerrick. How strange to want a man so much, a man she barely knew. Yet he wasn’t a man at all, was he? He was that other thing. She slung her arms over her face and refused to think one more thought on such a hopeless subject.

  Somewhere among all her worries, frustrations, and desires, she began drifting off to sleep. She just hoped she didn’t have another dream.

  God help her.

  * * *

  After Kerrick had swallowed at least three tumblers of Maker’s, he sat on one of the leather couches, leaning forward, his forearms on his knees, the cool glass cradled in his hands.

  His warrior brothers were close by, waiting, he supposed, until he finally regained his senses and told them why he had just done what he’d done.

  The Cave was a men-only club, not because they didn’t allow women but because most women were revolted by the place—beat-up leather sofas, a few stricken end tables, a pool table that took the brunt religiously of all the warriors’ tempers. A huge flat-screen TV hung at an angle off the wall awaiting repair … yeah, for three months now.

  Chasing after Alison like a madman, his vampire body raging to protect her, the experience had left him wired, like he’d been up for three nights driving across a couple thousand miles of open la
nd.

  “I must have been out of my mind,” he mumbled. He took another swig of Maker’s.

  Thorne sat down beside him then grasped the back of his neck. “You lucky sonofabitch! This has to be the breh-hedden. I mean, we all thought it was a myth but this has to be it!”

  The other warriors drew close then offered up their congratulations as well, thumping him on the back, calling out the appropriate jibes.

  He sat holding the tumbler, unable to respond, his chest in agony.

  So the breh-hedden had come to him and the woman meant for him was here. Unfortunately, he couldn’t act on it, couldn’t go to her, couldn’t bring her close. Any degree of proximity to her was a death sentence.

  The litany of his failures wasn’t particularly long but it was complete. He’d majored in failure. He’d gotten an A+ in all the big fuckups of his life. The hell he’d add one more to the list, and this had failure written all over it. If he ever claimed her physically, her death would essentially be guaranteed. “I won’t see it through.”

  All the hearty backslaps, the jokes, the good-natured taunts ceased.

  “What?” Thorne cried. “You can’t turn it down. She’s here. The woman meant for you, who can engage your mind, an ascendiate who matches you in power and can I just say, holy shit but she’s beautiful.”

  Kerrick felt his biceps flinch possessively. His fangs thrummed and started to emerge. He dipped his chin, sucked in a gulp of air, then threw back the last of the Maker’s. He turned to face Thorne, his boss, his best friend, his brother. He shook his head. He tried to swallow but couldn’t dislodge the lump in his throat. After a few more breaths he said, “I won’t marry again, not so long as I’m a warrior, no way in hell. And I sure as shit won’t complete the breh-hedden with that woman.”

  “How can you even think about turning this down?” Luken asked. “The recorded documents say that completing the breh-hedden is about as close to heaven as you can get.”

  Kerrick met his gaze knowing the golden warrior couldn’t possibly understand. “Well, take a wife and lose her because you’re a Warrior of the Blood. Hell, take two. See how that feels. Birth a couple of Twolings and have the Commander blast them into a fine spray of blood and bone just because he wants to hurt you. Believe me, you’d rather cut your own heart out than try again. I shouldn’t have married the second time. I knew it going in and I will always blame myself for Helena’s death and the deaths of our children. Eternity alone? Not such a bad fucking idea.”