Burning Skies by Caris Roane Read Free Book Online Page A

in for you.”
    “She’s just really frustrated right now.” Havily slipped her arm around Thorne’s and gave him a squeeze. “Alison tries to make headway with Endelle but even she loses it now and then, which is amazing because I swear Alison is a saint. Do you know what she said last week?”
    Thorne looked down into light green eyes that actually showed some humor. Havily was a beautiful woman, and some of that beauty pierced his heart. He was so grateful for her presence among his warriors. “Tell me,” he said.
    “She called Endelle a mule, an ‘ornery, ill-tempered, incorrigible mule!’ I smiled for days.”
    Thorne chuckled. “Kerrick found himself one helluva mate.”
    “And that door swings both ways.”
    “I’ll say an amen, Havily Morgan.” His heart swelled. Yeah, she’d become a bright spot in their dark days and nights.

 
    What the soul craves, the dream reveals.
    — Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
     
    CHAPTER 3
     
    At two in the morning Havily got a fold through the dimension back to Mortal Earth. Bless Jeannie. What would any of them do without her and the rest of the support staff at Central? Havily had some power; she could fold anywhere on Second Earth. But she still couldn’t fold between dimensions.
    She was now back at her condo at the base of Camelback Mountain. She stripped off her socks and Nikes, jeans and T-shirt, bra and thong. She slid the cream-colored nightgown over her head, adjusted the lace straps, then climbed into bed. She fell face-first onto the pillows and groaned. Yep, exhausted.
    Thorne would remain at the clinic through the night, standing guard, just in case any death vampires got the clever idea to attack Luken when he was out cold. Come morning, he would contact the Chief Militia Warrior for Metro Phoenix Two and have a detail assigned to the room, but not an ordinary detail. With death vamps around, at least a score would be needed to keep watch. Death vampires were considerably more powerful than the average Militia Warrior. To bring down a death vampire, a minimum of four Militia Warriors were required.
    Havily rolled onto her back, took the edge of the top sheet in her fingers, and rubbed back and forth, the motion soothing. She stared at the multitude of paper butterflies she had hanging from the ceiling, all decorated with colored ink and glitter, each one a miniature work of art. Each butterfly was different in design and suspended so that when she looked up she could see the wingspans. From every angle they were beautiful.
    She often counted them when she couldn’t sleep.
    She had stayed at the clinic until the medical staff had entered the room to turn the massive warrior onto his back. The sight of the rest of Luken’s burned flesh brought on a serious gag reflex, which she had only barely controlled. When she started weeping again, Thorne ordered her to go home. She protested, of course, but he added very gently that he would appreciate it if she would still come to the Cave at seven to bring the warriors their usual coffee and doughnuts.
    It was the least she could do when the Warriors of the Blood were all that stood between Endelle and her administration and a monster bent on taking over two worlds. Darian Greaves had been positioning himself for decades to do just that, building an army comprising both death vampires and regular Militia Warriors, seducing High Administrators around the globe into his camp, and generally winning an overall public relations war.
    Havily loved Second Earth with a passion that went beyond comprehension—but then part of ascending to a new dimension involved a great deal of yearning and longing, the call of a new world, of a new experience, of a new everything.
    She touched her incisors and felt her vampire fangs throb in response. She even loved being a vampire, having the ability to take blood, to give potions, as weird as it was. Except that it wasn’t weird once the ascension process was complete. Then