Foretold (Daughters of Saraqael Book Three) (14 page)

“He volunteered. After all, Quincy was Saraqael’s closest friend.”

Quincy didn’t sleep so much as slip mercifully into unconsciousness. The pain imposed upon him was simply beyond any being’s ability to withstand.

So it was with quite a bit of surprise that he opened his eyes and found himself in the most lucid dream he had ever experienced. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was a dream. Maybe because his last memory had been of lying on the hard ground of his dank cell as his attacker brought a heavy boot crashing into his ribs, and now he appeared to be in a meadow of some kind.

Strangely, as he would have thought he would have at least dreamed himself into something comfortable, he was still naked. When he rubbed a hand idly over his head, he noted it was still without more than a few unshorn patches of hair. He could even still see the many injuries that had been visited upon his body over the past long hours. Blessedly, however, he didn’t feel a thing.

Shifting his attention from himself, he turned to glance around the meadow. It looked a bit familiar. The purple flowers…the forest…the cliff.

Then he spotted her. She stood with her back to him. He saw the length of her brown hair shimmering with fiery color in the sunlight as it curled down her back. He saw that a single, one-inch strip of that hair was the same color as the sky above them. Colorful adornments of some kind encircled her taught biceps, drawing attention to their notable definition. Her long skirt pressed against her legs in the breeze, the bright pink, purple and orange tones blending perfectly with the colorful landscape.

As though she sensed him, she turned slowly. His breath caught when she touched his gaze with her own. She was achingly beautiful.

“You are one of Saraqael’s daughters,” he heard himself say a bit breathlessly.

An expression of concern crossed her lovely face as she took in his appearance. “Are you all right?” she asked. She started forward.

“You are, are you not?” he insisted. His excitement grew as she got nearer. “I see the resemblance.”

She stopped less than a foot from him. “My name is Skye,” she said. “You knew my father?”

Emotion flooded through him. “Yes,” he answered, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. His hands were dirty and caked in blood. “I am Quincy. Your father went through his Corgloresti training at the same time I did.”

He saw understanding enter her gaze. “You were his friend,” she said softly.

“I was,” he answered. Then, he remembered where his physical body was at that moment. “And I fear that relationship may somehow endanger you. They have discovered it. Kanika, she—”

“Kanika?” She reached out and grabbed his right hand in both of hers, her light blue eyes flying wide. “You’re with Grolkinei right now?”

“I…” He thought back to the group who had entered his cell. He had never met the Mercesti leader before, but he knew then that the dark-haired authority-figure had, indeed, been Grolkinei. “I guess I am. Though he is not the one torturing me.” His gaze met hers. “They killed Ezekiel. The Gloresti who had paired with me during my recent transition.”

Her eyes filled with tears. The reaction comforted him…made him feel less alone.

“I think we’ve connected this way so I can help you, Quincy,” she said, squeezing his hand as if to affirm it. “This isn’t a dream, and it isn’t a vision. I don’t know what it is, really, but there must be something I can do.” She glanced around. “This is the second time I’ve dreamed of this place. Because of that dream, the Waresti are already looking for it. They can’t be that far away.” Then she again caught his gaze. “Where were you when you were captured?”

Understanding, he looked around more carefully. “You are right. That is why this appears familiar. It has changed a bit since I transitioned to the human plane, but Ezekiel and I were captured not far from here.”

She smiled. He realized then that she had her mother’s charming dimple in her left cheek, but the fierceness of that smile was all her father’s. “Tell me everything you can about your capture, Quincy. We’re coming to get you.”

Caleb was lying with his eyes closed on Skye’s mattress, but wasn’t yet asleep. So when she abruptly sat up with a sharp intake of breath, he sat up, too. He realized her eyes were glowing light blue.

“Caleb, we have to help him,” she said in a rush, turning on the bed and grabbing his upper arms. “He’s near where I had the dream. They’re going to kill him. They’re torturing him, probably even right now!”

He could see she was rapidly approaching hysteria. Her breathing was harsh and far too rapid. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Her grip on his arms was crushing.

“Skye, you must calm down,” he said in a low, level voice. He lifted his hands and placed them on either side of her face, unthinkingly rubbing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “You won’t do whoever you’re talking about any good until you do. You must clear your thoughts. That’s right…deep breaths.”

She listened to him. Her eyes slowly dimmed to their normal color. Her breathing evened. It all took less than a minute, a testament to her dedication toward learning her meditation techniques.

Then she stunned him by reaching up and pulling him into a kiss. And then he couldn’t think at all with her lips parting beneath his and her exquisite taste on his tongue.

As she held him tightly so she could deepen the kiss, he was suddenly imbued with emotion. He knew it was hers and she was somehow projecting it toward him. It was more powerful than anything he had ever expected, and he discovered that the emotion made the kiss have all the more impact.

When she pulled away, she held his gaze. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you after the Foretelling,” she said in a near-whisper. “I know you all had your reasons for not sharing everything with us. And I know you’re not sure how you feel about me. But you should know how much I love you, Caleb. We may have all eternity to say such things, but then again…”

“Who did you see in your dream?” he asked, understanding that whatever she had seen was prompting her words now. He would absorb their meaning when his head stopped reeling.

“I’ll tell everyone at once,” she said. She again reached up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you for believing in me.”

He simply nodded.

Gabriel and James were standing side by side in the common area when Caleb and Skye emerged from her bedroom. Caleb had sent a thought out to them the moment he saw Skye’s eyes glowing. They glanced up with concerned expressions. Neither seemed surprised that he had been with her, he noticed.

“Amber and Olivia haven’t awakened from their sleep yet,” Gabriel said. “After the last ritual, they were about thirty minutes or so behind you, Skye.”

She nodded. “Fine. I’ll tell all of you first.” She took a deep breath. “I had another dream—or vision. I returned to that same meadow.”

Caleb’s jaw clenched, but he kept his expression contained.

“I sensed another presence with me. When I turned around, there was this horribly beaten male standing there without a stitch of clothing on. Someone had done a hack job on his hair. His scalp was bleeding in some places and most of his hair was gone. He looked…puzzled, I guess. And relieved. When I got closer, I saw his eyes were silver. He said his name was Quincy, and he was a friend of my father’s.”

Gabriel blinked in obvious shock. “Quincy?” he repeated, reaching out to grab Skye’s shoulder. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. He looked young, as we all do. Maybe in his early-twenties in appearance, at most. The hair he had left was blond. He had a few silver pairing markings. Not too many. And he had an accent. Maybe like someone from Australia or New Zealand.” She paused as if to steel herself, then added, “He said he was taken prisoner by the Mercesti after he returned from a transition. The new Estilorian, a Wymzesti named Justine, escaped with an Orculesti, Mei-Li, and a Scultresti, Fatimah.” She looked around at all of them. “There were at least eight Waresti killed. The Gloresti was captured along with Quincy. His name was Ezekiel.”

“Ezekiel,” James said with an alarmed expression, looking from Caleb to Gabriel.

Gabriel had gone from looking shocked to having no expression. “You said ‘was.’ His name
was
Ezekiel.”

Her eyes filled. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Clenching his hands into fists, Gabriel started pacing. His eyes transitioned from blue-gray to the Gloresti dark blue. They all knew he was sending out this information to the elders.

“But Quincy is still being held prisoner by Grolkinei and his commanders,” she said, wiping impatiently at her cheeks. “He said he had transitioned back to this plane not far from that meadow and was taken prisoner from there. He was able to give me more details about the location.”

Caleb stared at James as she relayed every last one of those details to Gabriel so that he could forward them to the elders and thus down the chain to the Waresti who were actually away from the Estilorian base and trying to find Grolkinei’s lair. He and James had both known Ezekiel rather well. He had done a great deal of training with them before they took on the duty of watching over the girls’ Estilorian forms. He had even assisted in identifying the best spots to keep the girls’ forms safe.

He had been a model Gloresti. And they grieved the loss.

“It will take some time to get the word down to the Waresti engaged in the search,” Gabriel said, impatience lacing his voice. “Our thoughts can’t pass through the enchantments around the stronghold, so Uriel has sent Harold from Central on an express platform so he can spread the word.”

“But I told Quincy we would come for him,” Skye said. She had been sitting, but now got to her feet. “He’s being tortured right now. We can’t just—”

“I know,” Gabriel interrupted, “but there is nothing we can do from here.” He resumed his pacing and cursed softly. The pain in his dark blue gaze was evident. “I paired with Quincy the first time he ever transitioned. He’s remarkably gifted. Every time he has Embraced a human soul, it has resulted in success. That doesn’t usually happen.”

“If you paired with him before, can’t you somehow connect with him?” she asked.

She was wringing her hands together. The anxious action made the discs around her waist chime musically. Caleb frowned over how pale she looked.

“I could, but not with him on the other side of this enchantment,” Gabriel responded. “I’m telling you, mental connections are impossible through this boundary, except briefly one time per day for the Lekwuesti to send hospitality items, and you said the Mercesti have even dampened that possibility. They must have learned after the incident with Olivia.”

“But I did it!” she said, throwing her hands out to the side in frustration. “I was able to connect with him somehow.”

Caleb saw Gabriel give her a considering look. “I suppose we could try.”

Obviously relieved, she hurried forward and took Gabriel’s hands by the wrists. He grasped hers, as well. Caleb exchanged another look with James. He supposed they wouldn’t be much help, and might actually hinder any success Skye and Gabriel might have.

While the two of them stood and concentrated, Amber and Olivia woke up within minutes of each other. James filled them in while Caleb stared at Skye.

Eventually, she and Gabriel parted. She shook her head as she stepped back. “It’s just not working. I keep seeing him like he was in the dream. It’s like a repeated clip from a movie playing over and over again in my head. But it isn’t something that’s happening now.”

“What if we all try?” Olivia suggested. “Combine our powers?”

“I’d like to try that,” Skye said, looking around at all of them. “I know we just stretched our powers for the ritual, but I think I’ll be able to figure out really quickly whether it’s going to work.”

They all nodded and moved to a part of the room where they could connect hands. Caleb saw Skye’s eyes settle on the flowers outside her room. She blinked briefly as she studied them, then seemed to dismiss them so she could focus on what they were about to try. Reaching out, he took her right wrist. Olivia stood on his right, so he took her left wrist. Soon, they were all joined in a circle.

After a moment in which they all focused their thoughts and energy, they were all standing together in the meadow. They all watched Skye interact with Quincy, all saw his deplorable condition. Caleb felt empathy and fear for the tortured Corgloresti circle through him and his family.

But in the end, they were no closer to finding Quincy and offering him aid than before. It was just as Skye had said. A repeat of what she had experienced.

After a few minutes, she sent out the thought that they weren’t making headway. They pulled back. As Caleb refocused on their surroundings, he felt her withdraw from the circle. The look on her face was heartbreaking.

He also wished there was something they could do. It sickened him to think of any Estilorian suffering at the hands of the Mercesti. And although he didn’t know Quincy personally, he didn’t want him to die. Then there was the fact that he had known Ezekiel. Caleb would enjoy nothing more than retribution for Ezekiel’s tortured death. But they were quite powerless.

Skye walked over to the side of the common area closest to Caleb’s room. She was now pacing and once again wringing her hands. Her long hair and her skirts flared every time she spun. The lights bouncing on the ceiling glittered on the light pink discs at her waist. He had removed her slippers and her earrings earlier so she could sleep more comfortably, but she still wore her bicep bracelets and the single comb in her hair. Each of those details had appeared in her dream, making him understand how significant and real it had been.

She was muttering to herself. From what he could decipher, he could tell it was in her native language. For some reason, perhaps because she was half-human and had retained full human awareness when she transitioned, the words she spoke in her native tongue were the only ones he had ever heard on the Estilorian plane that he was unable to interpret. All language was universal on this plane, as all Estilorians had inherent translators in their brains. It was strange that he heard the sounds she made but couldn’t comprehend them.