Page 57 of Gates of Rapture (The Guardians of Ascension #6)

He looked down at her and smiled. Hells, yeah, he sent.

Thorne called out. “Obsidian flame, mount up.”

Grace felt her stomach take a spin. This was it. Leto stepped away from her, and despite the ferocity of her nerves, and because of the practice of two millennia, she let her wings fly.

Much to her surprise, suddenly she could breathe. Something about the simple act of mounting her wings had steadied her. She even chuckled.

She glanced at Fiona, who in turn winked at her.

Marguerite also turned back and smiled first at Fiona, then at Grace. She stood two feet in front of them, in the position they intended to sustain while in the air.

Grace nodded and smiled, even though her heart raced.

Yep, showtime.

She looked once more at the image of Endelle on the monitors. She was clearly glorying in her trip down the parade route. Maybe it was for that reason—that Endelle could enjoy a moment so fraught with danger—that Grace finally let go of her nerves and began to focus on her obsidian power.

With a whisper of a thought, she could feel the rumble beneath her feet, feel the earth-based power ready to flow through her and enable her to do things no vampire should ever be able to do. She flexed her wings, just feeling them.

She glanced at Thorne. He turned toward her and offered a curious frown. You okay? he sent.

She nodded. “I’m good.”

He smiled, then returned his attention forward. He touched his headset almost continuously now, shifting from one entity to the next, speaking softly the whole time. He was fully in command.

With that, he gave the order to take to the dark night skies.

Grace reached out in her obsidian way, touched her obsidian sisters, felt the answering response, and as one they launched.

Grace’s wings plowed air. The fireworks still boomed, lighting up the sky in an array of colors and patterns.

Every once in a while, she’d watch a dragon-shaped series of lights pass by her peripheral vision.

Motion was good. The music wasn’t as loud now that she flew above the amplifiers and the marching warriors.

The DNA-altered swans and geese flew in front of their group and behind.

She could occasionally hear the handlers calling to them.

Spectacle.

One of the best parts of ascended life.

If Endelle was right, if Grace had been right in suggesting this scheme in the first place, then another kind of spectacle was about to hit the air.

Her com lit up and Thorne’s gravel voice said quietly, “You may fold the first section at will.” Which was code for the first part of Greaves’s army.

Grace let the coordinates move through her mind, and she held her mass-folding ability in the forefront.

She apparitioned, took possession of Fiona, and without hesitating let the fold begin.

She felt the mass movement of a quarter of a million Militia Warriors, from Mongolia to North Africa, as obsidian flame folded them. She felt dizzy with excitement.

Leto came on the com, something she could perceive even in her split-self. “Brynna confirms.”

She wanted to give a shout, but Thorne came on softly and said, “Prepare for the second fold. Grace, when ready proceed.”

She focused on the second group, from the Australian Outback.

She felt the power flowing in an almost constant loop from Marguerite, to Fiona, then herself, even split as she was.

She concentrated on the coordinates, and once more she let the fold just happen.

It was an amazing sensation, and all this was happening as the fireworks continued to boom, the warriors below marched, and all the swans and geese kept the focus on spectacle and not on a war-changing secret folding operation.

“Brynna confirms the second group arrived,” Leto said. “She’s folding to the Superstitions so that she can confirm the third fold.” A moment later. “She has arrived at the Superstitions. She’s ready to receive the third fold.”

Thorne’s voice once more spoke softly. “Grace, fold your third group when ready.”

***

Greaves heard Thorne’s voice over the com. He stared at the parade ground but couldn’t see any special movement of troops. They all moved in formation and had remained constant in number the entire distance, so what could Thorne have meant by “fold your third group”?

He had heard both Thorne and Leto talk about obsidian flame folding something somewhere, but if they were doing so right now, it wasn’t on the parade grounds.

He glanced at the monitors and spoke to his staff. “Do any of you see movement, like some kind of mass movement of the troops?”

When he received a general negation, he peered once more at the monitors. What he was seeing looked like plain old spectacle to him.

An aide approached. He would have brushed him off, but he held a piece of paper, was sweating like a pig, and had a wild look in his eyes. Greaves got a really bad feeling. “What?” he barked.

The aide shoved the paper at him. “Your… your Mongolian army is gone.”

Greaves blinked. He looked at the paper. Glanced at the aide. Shifted to stare at his generals, who wore blank looks. He didn’t bother asking what the aide meant.

To his staff, he asked, “Has Thorne made another fold request?”

The aide that kept the monitors alive with ongoing footage, said, “Warrior Thorne just spoke of a fourth fold to his sister, Grace.”

When Greaves saw another aide flying at him from down the hall, Greaves knew.

Leto. Fucking Leto.

His army.

The fold wasn’t on the parade route. The spectacle was one big fucking distraction.

“Launch the artillery now.”