Page 82 of The Phoenix

“You’re killing us. What is she?” asked Braelyn.

“She’s psychokinetic. Some people say telekinetic.”

Braelyn said, “Doesn’t seem too rare. My trainer is one of those.”

“Yes,” said Leana, her brows arching, her lips curling up. “But Celene combines it with astral properties.”

Braelyn tilted her head toward Celene. “Skyler projects when she scries. She actually goes to the place she visualizes. Astral projection, she calls it.”

“Cool,” said Celene. “Why is my gift so special?”

“Well, dear girl, all psychokinetics move objects in their visual range. You can also, but if something is hidden from your view, poof. You picture it, your spirit travels there, and you move it.”

“I don’t understand how this will be useful in the fight against Cerberus,” said Celene.

Braelyn squeezed her hand when Leana shrugged. “Maybe it won’t, but lots of people search for hard-to-find objects. Even if an item is out of sight, you’ll be able to locate it and transfer it from where it is hidden to where it needs to be. An extremely lucrative profession is in your future.”

Chapter Eighteen

I’m such a prat!

Miller was standing in the doorway of the barracks at the Covenkirk stronghold, prepared to grovel. His gaze circled the area for a specific female. An Amazon warrior. She’d hurried the fuck out of the Blood Shed before he could catch her, and she’d done it with a chip on her shoulder. One he’d put there. He’d said, “Thanks.” Sort of like leaving money on the dresser for a hooker. He hadn’t understood at the time, but after he thought about it, he wanted to smash a fist into his own jaw. He’d meant to tell her so much more.

Self-serving limey bastard.

He found her. She was already dressed for the fight, standing at a tall, thin locker shoving clothes inside. He flopped onto her cot.

She swung her gaze his way. Then she returned her attention to her task, ignoring him.

“I made a total cock up of our first time together.” Miller rested his elbows on his knees for the confession.

“Huh?” Galena kept her back to him. He deserved it.

“I wasn’t clear with you the other night. I put action before words. Might be a flaw of mine. What I meant to say before we got busy in the backroom, I’ll say now. You are incredible. I thought so the first time I met you. My feelings grew stronger the more time we spent together. I like your curves, your attitude, your brain, courage, and smile. Routinely, you abuse my body, but you make me hard. It has nothing to do with wanting to jumpstart my warlock. Well, it did, but that was the icing on the cupcake. I’ve wanted in your pants since the first time you tossed me on my ass.”

She turned and started to walk by him. His hand wrapped around her arm. “I want more from you than a fast shag, luv. This was a start, not an ending. Don’t think about brushing me off. We Brits are a bloody stubborn lot, especially when we fancy a woman.”

“You fancy me?”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to say? Perhaps I don’t speak English as well as I think I do. If after today, you want the romance, I’m up for flowers, dinner, and dancing. Though, I should warn you, I am hard on toes. I’ll do anything you want to give us a chance.”

She sat beside him. “I’m skeptical.”

He touched his palm to his heart. “And I’m besotted with you.”

****

D-chips vibrated, calling Firebrands to action. The armory door at the Covenkirk stronghold stood wide open. All six-foot-eight inches of Kole greeted his warriors, his lips twisted into a grim frown when he jammed his Boker Magnum double-edged dagger into a shoulder harness. A short-shafted morning star and battle ax already dangled from his belt.

With his frerons gathered around, he said, “We’re traveling into one of four hot zones to confront Arisen Dawn. Nace’s Firebrands are mustering at one portal and Jarek another. Gaffers are taking what High Commander Cadmon believes will be the smallest incursion site. Our assignment is the portal nearest Lucifer’s Forge in Knife’s Edge. Intel says a contingent of Cerberus’s army will form there in the desert before heading for Paris. The French military is prepared Earthside. Gear up.”

He paused when Galena sprinted toward the armory, Miller Nash in tow. She grabbed her shield, a short spear, and a battle-ax. “Name your poison, warlock.” Swinging an arm wide, she indicated the available weapons.

As Firebrands crowded into the room to choose their deadly equipment, the Brit eyed a row of ancient weapons. “Sweet.” Miller inspected the blades, finally choosing a seax, an Anglo-Saxon knife, about twenty inches long. He strapped on a sheath, arranging it on his left hip. He slammed the blade into place.

Kole pointed him toward the swords and axes. “More is always better.”

Miller slipped the commander a knowing grin. “I have another weapon.” He wiggled his fingers.

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