Endelle’s mist evaporated and what emerged was like something from a massive chrysalis: an angelic butterfly that glittered beneath the sun. Thorne had to put a hand up to shield his eyes. It was as though she were covered in gems that reflected the light.
She was so beautiful.
Though he had a sinking sensation that what she had chosen to become could never battle a fully armored Greaves, he thought wryly that Endelle had created one helluva spectacle costume, something that must have pleased her soul.
As he saw Greaves’s death vampire force—and because Endelle had given him complete command of the army—he made a quick decision.
He touched his com and ordered his regiment to perform one of his favorite drills, a massive group flight, at an angle rising into the air in order to achieve a superior advantage over the enemy.
A split second later, his Militia Warriors, as a unit, began to flap every shade of wing imaginable at an upward angle that within less than a minute, if unimpeded, would place them above Greaves’s death vampire force.
He marveled at the sight his force presented, flying in perfect formation as a well-practiced regiment could do, up and up, still stacked five high, still the breadth of the lake below.
As they passed overhead, moving between him and the direct sight line of the sun, shadows rippled over him.
Pride swelled his heart.
Whatever the results of the forthcoming battle, he would never forget this moment as long as he lived.
He tapped a second com and reached Luken. “There are three Third Earth death vampires behind Greaves. Only your warriors will be able to take them. As soon as Endelle engages Greaves, attack only those vamps.”
“Understood, boss.”
Thorne smiled. How many times had he heard Luken call him “boss” while he had been the leader. A hundred? A thousand? More than that, no doubt.
He knew when Luken had communicated with the warriors, because as another unified group, they launched high into the air, but still below the Militia Warriors that were now almost in place.
Greaves’s force remained static, submissive to his will. But he had apparently been so focused on Endelle that he’d failed to observe Thorne’s maneuvers. When several shadows passed over him, he looked up and seemed to weave in the air for a moment as though surprised.
He must have issued orders, because his pretty-boys suddenly began an upward drive in the direction of the now descending Militia Warrior force. A few seconds later, the battle in the air began as swords clashed and maroon-vested death vampires began fighting squads of Militia Warriors.
Thorne turned to face north and could see the flotilla in the distance. He touched his com and spoke with Horace, directing him to begin an approach; the battle had commenced and healers would be needed soon.
As for obsidian flame, he pivoted in the air and said, “I want you to stay back with Horace and the support line of warriors. If you’re needed, I will call you forward. But even Endelle would prefer that you remain separate from the battle.”
The women nodded gravely. But it was his sister who drew close and said, “If you need us to fight, we will.” Both Marguerite and Fiona nodded in agreement.
They were brave, these women, none of whom was built to wield a sword. But each had the same spirit as his warriors, willing to do all that was required of her.
“Thank you,” he said, looking from face to face with great affection. “I promise I will summon you as needed.” But he was relieved as he watched them fly north in the direction of the flotilla.
Endelle allowed herself to feel the being she had become. She flexed her new wings, grateful that she still had her arms and legs and wasn’t in too different a shape from her usual flight arrangement.
She experimented for a moment, flapping the butterfly-like panels. Just as she suspected, she could move quickly and make much sharper turns. She also found that because the change was genetic, her body knew what it needed to do.
What bemused her, however, was just how much she perspired from every cell of her skin as well as her wings.
Greaves began to advance on her, a satisfied smile on his face. He moved through his advanced levitation and gained speed.
Shit, if he plowed into her, he could knock her into the water, and she had the worst feeling she would never get out. Wings and water did not mesh at all.
Her genetics began to speak to her about the fluids she shed. They had a purpose, but she couldn’t quite make it out.
Greaves had completed half the distance.
On he came, his protective plates writhing as he floated. His eyes were almost black as he stared at her. He lowered his chin.
She knew what would happen. He was a bull charging her, and only speed would get her away.