good news today. He moved in and clapped each one on the shoulder. “How we doin’?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer but jerked his chin at Sam. “Limoncello,” he called out.
Sam nodded once, flung a clean white towel over his shoulder, gave a snap of his suspenders, and bent over to open the small fridge behind the counter.
Both warriors, still seated, looked up at Medichi.
“Hey,” Zach cried, “Thorne told us your news. This is fucking great.”
And that’s all it took. The warriors rose off the bar stools, one huge-ass swarm of lethal warrior bodies, palms and fists pummeling him.
For some goddamn reason Medichi’s eyes burned.
Marcus pushed his hair back. It had grown longer in the past three months, down to his shoulders now but still not long enough for the cadroen. “So, we sit tight until the grid at Central finds something we can investigate.”
“Actually, we’re using Seriffe’s grid, the one at Militia headquarters. Jeannie’s watching for blue-bastards, as usual.”
Marcus sighed. Heavily. He shook his head. “We’re getting our asses kicked,” he muttered. As an administrator, he always had his eye on the larger problem: how to gain the upper hand over Greaves.
Medichi glanced past his friend and took the cold glass of limoncello that Sam held up. He drew the glass close, squeezed his eyes shut, and took a long drink.
His heart was thumping hard. The time had come to do what he should have done centuries ago.
When he opened his eyes, he looked straight at Thorne and said, “I need to see all of you at the Cave before we head out to the Borderlands tonight.” His gaze skated to Marcus, willing him to understand what he intended to do. It didn’t take Marcus more than a couple of seconds. He nodded and a faint smile touched his lips.
Thorne scowled at him. “What’s going on?”
Medichi shifted his gaze back to him.
Thorne was one ruined warrior. In addition to the reddish, bloodshot look, he had dark circles beneath his eyes. It was like looking in a mirror, except Thorne had looked this way for decades now. And what the hell was his excuse except that his sister was stuck in the Creator’s convent in Prescott Two and had been for over a century?
Of course, Thorne’s avowed celibacy didn’t help matters.
To be fair, Thorne was Endelle’s second-in-command. That had to be one huge assfucking day and night. For all her power and her dedication to Second Society, Endelle was one volcano of a bitch, ready to spew on command. But she was the only thing holding their world together when Commander Darian Greaves was so close to tearing it apart.
As Thorne scowled up at him, Medichi knew he’d have to tell him something right now if he wanted him to agree to a meeting before the night’s battling began. Thorne didn’t like a disruption in his schedule.
Medichi drew a deep breath. “I need to show you my wings.”
To reveal what has been hidden,
To offer to the light what has been long held in the dark,
These are the true acts of heroism.
— Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
CHAPTER 4
“You need to show us your wings?” Thorne repeated. His hazel eyes looked blank. “What do you mean? Now? Tonight?”
The warriors, almost as a unit, froze and stared at Medichi.
“Yeah. Right now. At the Cave.” He willed Thorne to say yes, to direct the warriors to the rec room.
“Shit” came out like a soft whistle from between Thorne’s teeth. He glanced around. “Well, fuck. To the Cave, laddies.”
Medichi didn’t wait. He lifted his arm and folded. He touched down on the chipped black tile of the floor, then moved to stand near the pool table, his hands on his hips. He took deep breaths. Was he really going to do this?
Yeah. The time had come. The moment Central found anything in Burma, he’d fold to the location and do whatever it took to get to Parisa, including mounting his wings in front of God and all creation. So yeah, he
Sam nodded once, flung a clean white towel over his shoulder, gave a snap of his suspenders, and bent over to open the small fridge behind the counter.
Both warriors, still seated, looked up at Medichi.
“Hey,” Zach cried, “Thorne told us your news. This is fucking great.”
And that’s all it took. The warriors rose off the bar stools, one huge-ass swarm of lethal warrior bodies, palms and fists pummeling him.
For some goddamn reason Medichi’s eyes burned.
Marcus pushed his hair back. It had grown longer in the past three months, down to his shoulders now but still not long enough for the cadroen. “So, we sit tight until the grid at Central finds something we can investigate.”
“Actually, we’re using Seriffe’s grid, the one at Militia headquarters. Jeannie’s watching for blue-bastards, as usual.”
Marcus sighed. Heavily. He shook his head. “We’re getting our asses kicked,” he muttered. As an administrator, he always had his eye on the larger problem: how to gain the upper hand over Greaves.
Medichi glanced past his friend and took the cold glass of limoncello that Sam held up. He drew the glass close, squeezed his eyes shut, and took a long drink.
His heart was thumping hard. The time had come to do what he should have done centuries ago.
When he opened his eyes, he looked straight at Thorne and said, “I need to see all of you at the Cave before we head out to the Borderlands tonight.” His gaze skated to Marcus, willing him to understand what he intended to do. It didn’t take Marcus more than a couple of seconds. He nodded and a faint smile touched his lips.
Thorne scowled at him. “What’s going on?”
Medichi shifted his gaze back to him.
Thorne was one ruined warrior. In addition to the reddish, bloodshot look, he had dark circles beneath his eyes. It was like looking in a mirror, except Thorne had looked this way for decades now. And what the hell was his excuse except that his sister was stuck in the Creator’s convent in Prescott Two and had been for over a century?
Of course, Thorne’s avowed celibacy didn’t help matters.
To be fair, Thorne was Endelle’s second-in-command. That had to be one huge assfucking day and night. For all her power and her dedication to Second Society, Endelle was one volcano of a bitch, ready to spew on command. But she was the only thing holding their world together when Commander Darian Greaves was so close to tearing it apart.
As Thorne scowled up at him, Medichi knew he’d have to tell him something right now if he wanted him to agree to a meeting before the night’s battling began. Thorne didn’t like a disruption in his schedule.
Medichi drew a deep breath. “I need to show you my wings.”
To reveal what has been hidden,
To offer to the light what has been long held in the dark,
These are the true acts of heroism.
— Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
CHAPTER 4
“You need to show us your wings?” Thorne repeated. His hazel eyes looked blank. “What do you mean? Now? Tonight?”
The warriors, almost as a unit, froze and stared at Medichi.
“Yeah. Right now. At the Cave.” He willed Thorne to say yes, to direct the warriors to the rec room.
“Shit” came out like a soft whistle from between Thorne’s teeth. He glanced around. “Well, fuck. To the Cave, laddies.”
Medichi didn’t wait. He lifted his arm and folded. He touched down on the chipped black tile of the floor, then moved to stand near the pool table, his hands on his hips. He took deep breaths. Was he really going to do this?
Yeah. The time had come. The moment Central found anything in Burma, he’d fold to the location and do whatever it took to get to Parisa, including mounting his wings in front of God and all creation. So yeah, he
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