by Ford, Lizzy
Her headache was now a migraine, and she shielded her eyes against the light from the street that filtered past her honeycomb blinds. She all but staggered into her bathroom. She wrenched open the medicine cabinet for the most powerful of the drugs Dr. Mallard prescribed for her and slammed the cabinet shut.
Her eyes were fully silver, swirling and glowing in the dark bathroom.
“What is wrong with me?” she screamed, slamming her fists against the mirror.
Her blood spattered on the wall, and buzzing filled her ears. She sank to the floor. Her phone began to ring again as she slid into a dead faint.
CHAPTER TWO
Sonoran Desert, Arizona
The White God’s Headquarters
Damian Bylun stared at the phone. It was a cold day in hell when someone dared hang up on the White God, the Defender of Mankind, the Tamer of Evil. Or, in the words of his closest friends, the BS Master of the Universe.
His phone rang, and he answered, expecting the woman to return his call with a few dozen apologies.
“Damian, I’m one of your … employees. My name is Jake H, employee number 0092841.”
Damian opened his PDA to do a quick search on the number. He didn’t know the names of everyone in the latest generation of his Guardians yet, especially not those working in the field.
Jake H. Organization year: 2000. Only his undercover agents contained such little information in his database. Jake was risking getting caught to call him.
“Where are you?” Damian asked.
“NOVA Sector HQ.”
“Stay there.” Damian hung up and looked at his executive officer and sparring partner. “Han, I’m going away for a few to the Northern Virginia Sector. Don’t hold up dinner on my account.” Han nodded, and Damian trotted into the 20,000-square-foot mansion in the middle of the Arizona desert he called home.
“Say hi to Laney!” Han called.
Damian waved to show he’d heard and then took the stairs two at a time to his room. He changed into all black and strapped a sword to his back before closing his eyes and envisioning the interior of NOVA Sector. In a blink, he’d Traveled there. One foot was immediately soaked. He looked down as two of his Guardians hopped up from their positions.
“Who the hell put a pool here?” he demanded, pulling his right foot out of the shallow end of an in-ground pool. The two Guardians looked at each other, neither certain how to respond.
“It was a brutal summer,” an amused voice said. Han’s brother Laney, one of Damian’s oldest Guardians and the station chief for NOVA sector, leaned in the doorway to the main house with a smile.
Damian walked over to him. “Laney, good to see you,” he said warmly, clapping him on the arm. “One of your boys called me.”
“Yeah, he’s been pacing like a madman for a couple of hours. He’s a newbie. Be gentle.”
“It’s fucking cold here,” he complained as he walked into the two-story house in suburban Washington, DC.
He saw the man who had called him pacing as Laney had indicated. Jake turned and stared at him, dropped an awkward bow, and straightened, his mouth lax. Damian sat down on the arm of a leather couch, accustomed to the reaction, and pulled off his boot to drain the water.
“You gonna talk or stare?” he challenged. Jake looked at Laney, then at him.
“I found someone,” Jake said.
“A Natural?” Laney prodded.
“I don’t know what she is. I was embedded at this company we know is operating as a cover for Czerno’s operations. I ran into someone I knew from college,” Jake said and began to pace again, half-lost in his thoughts as he spoke. “She’s something. I don’t know what.”
“Can you expand a little on that statement?” Laney asked.
“She’s started having symptoms that the doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong. She turned twenty-four two months ago and started having all these issues, like she’s a vamp. She can’t go out in sunlight …” Jake trailed off, deep in thought. “You’re going to think I’m crazy—”
“Already do,” Damian said. “You wanna tell me why I’m here? Where are you even working? Your file was locked.”
“I’m a plant at a front company we know one of Czerno’s most trusted lieutenants uses to launder money,” Jake said. “I recently gained access to this database that the company’s owner uses. I was looking for Czerno’s bank accounts, but I found this bizarro file on her instead. Her phone and computer are monitored. They have records of her vitals—like her body temperature and shit like that—and copies of her medical records. I found an email the owner sent to an email address we know Czerno uses. It says they want to force the transformation.”
“She’s a Natural,” Laney said, frowning at him. “Treat her like any other. We’ll assign her a Guardian and bring her in.”
“No,” Jake objected. “The email said she’d be ready soon for the procedure Czerno wants her to undergo. A medical procedure where he’s going to drain all her blood and replace it with his.”
Damian held up his hand. He’d begun to think their recruitment standards were slipping until Jake mentioned the operation. Surprise trickled through him. He recognized the procedure but hadn’t heard of it being used since before his brother, Darian, had died thousands of years ago.
“What else did the file say?” he pressed.
“Nothing really. Just said he wanted it done soon because he wasn’t taking any risks, even if she hadn’t started transforming yet. I gave her your number, but I doubt she called.”
Only an Oracle’s blood was drained to force her to bind with her master. The measure was taken to give him unfettered access to her visions. Century-long wars had been fought in Damian’s father’s time over who claimed a discovered Oracle, no matter how competent the Oracle turned out. He met Laney’s gaze.
“It’s virtually impossible.” Laney voiced his same thought.
“There haven’t been any in tens of thousands of years,” Damian said slowly. “What else, Jake?”
“That’s it. I just have this feeling…” Jake said, his face troubled.
“You have a Traveler assigned to station, Laney?” Damian asked. Most stations had one of the Guardians—or Naturals—capable of Traveling great distances the way he did, by using magic to slip through space and time and end up elsewhere. Laney lifted his chin toward Jake, who nodded. “Watch her. If anything funny happens, bring her in, straight to my headquarters outside of Tucson. Don’t take any chances with this one. Got it?”
Jake nodded again.
“Laney, tell Dustin what’s going on. He gets pissy when you all call me directly without letting him know,” Damian said.
“Will do.”
Damian closed his eyes and opened them, materializing in his suite in Tucson. He stood before the low-burning fire, golden eyes swirling as he thought quickly.
A few Naturals were found every year, and he didn’t bother to remember their names in an organization his size, leaving that level of detail to his most trusted men, the two regional commanders, and dozens of sector commanders worldwide. An Oracle … now that was worthy of his attention. There had been none since Claire, whose powers had been so weak, she couldn’t even be blood bound. The last blood-bound Oracle was Damian’s mother, who went mad soon after his birth.
He who binds the Oracle, binds the future, his brother had once told him. His phone dinged and drew him from his thoughts. A text popped up.
Bro, ur supposed 2 tell me when u visit.
Damian grunted, expecting Dusty’s message. His regional commanders were the only two people in the world who would challenge him: the cold master assassin in charge of the western hemisphere and the warm master negotiator in charge of the eastern hemisphere. As different as night and day, they were his adopted brothers—and the only men in the universe he trusted with his life. Of the two, Dusty was more likely to call him to the floor when he crossed into his business. As their king, Damian owed them nothing. As his adopted broth
ers in the war against evil, the two of them were his equals.
He typed a response. Next time, boss.
He left his room for his office. The quarterly conference held four times a century with the highest ranking station commanders was coming up soon, and he had more pressing issues to resolve before it launched. He entered his office and froze, sensing the presence of the otherworldly being.
“Y’all need to learn to ask before setting foot in my house,” he warned.
The middle-aged man with bright green eyes standing in his study looked harmless. His frame was slight, his hair silvered, his smile fatherly. Damian knew better than to trust the deceptive appearance of this type of creature. They were some of the most ancient beings in the universe, those whose first war drove immortals out of their world and created the mortal world.
Their second war almost destroyed the mortal world and ended in the Schism, the divorcing of the divine world from the physical one. They stranded the White and Black Gods on earth, preordained to be at each other’s throats for all eternity. The Watchers then relegated themselves to the role of a benevolent audience in the bloody basketball game that was Damian’s war.
“Forgive me, ikir,” the Watcher said with a bow of his head.
“You’re here to fuck up my life, aren’t you?” Damian challenged. He crossed his arms to display roped forearms and sat on the edge of his desk.
“I’ve always enjoyed this era of the White God,” the Watcher said and smiled, genuine mirth in his unblinking gaze. “You have a spark your forefathers didn’t.”
“I’m glad I entertain you,” Damian said flatly.
“No disrespect meant, ikir.” The Watcher’s eyes went around his study, as if this was his first visit in a great while. Damian didn’t trust the beings that saw all, knew all, and yet spoke in riddles—if they chose to speak at all.
“You here just to visit?” he prodded at the Watcher’s silence.
“No, ikir. I will be in your territory for some time.”
The words were the first sign of something very, very wrong. Damian’s unease grew.
“There is a disturbance in the uh, basketball game, as you call it,” the Watcher said. “One of the teams is cheating.”
“Czerno. How bad is it?”
“Bad enough to change the final score.”
Damian mulled his words, waiting for more.
“There are Watchers who have left the crowd for Czerno’s team. They’re coaching him,” the Watcher said softly.
“Damn,” Damian breathed. “The last time y’all fought, you nearly destroyed the universe.”
“Our war has again spread to yours,” the Watcher acknowledged. “I am bound by the oath of non-interference I took at the Schism. I, too, can only … coach, though I will choose when and where.”
“So I shouldn’t be surprised to see you in my territory, and I shouldn’t expect shit from you,” Damian surmised.
“Yes, ikir.”
“How long will you be coaching in my territory?”
“It may be awhile by earth standards. Those coaching Czerno are shifting the future daily.”
Damian hadn’t expected his day to be so eventful. If the Watchers were once again bringing their battle to earth, it meant the Original Beings imprisoned by the Schism were stirring up old divisions again. He was too young to know much about those beings or much about the Watchers. Jule, the regional commander for the eastern hemisphere and the oldest of the three of them by far, had come from the same world as the Watchers but refused to talk about it.
“That is all I will say, ikir, except to remind you that the White and Black Gods cannot kill one another directly. To do so would release the Original Beings, and then things would really be bad.”
Damian’s jaw clenched. He didn’t often feel helpless, not when he held the powers of a god among humans. But Watchers played on a different level. He was restricted to the physical world by the Schism despite his god-powers. By and large, the Watchers did whatever the hell they wanted. That this one had come to him with a warning was the most he could expect.
“By your leave, ikir,” the Watcher said and bowed his head again.
“Try not to screw up too much of my shit,” Damian returned.
The Watcher nodded and disappeared in a wink of light.
First a possible Oracle, then a Watcher. He had a feeling the war was just starting to get interesting. Damian crossed to his window and gazed out at the setting sun. Chances were, things were about to get ugly.
The next morning, Sofia awoke stiff and cold on the bathroom floor. Her apartment was cold, and sunlight streamed through the blinds, making her head pound harder.
“Oh god, Sofia!” Jake’s voice came from the doorway of the bathroom. “I’ve been trying to call …” His voice trailed off as he took in her bloodied hands and the pills scattered all over the bathroom floor. “You tried to kill yourself!”
“No, Jake,” she mumbled and pushed herself up. She sat on her knees for a long moment. Jake reached for her, and she recoiled. “Don’t touch me!”
“I’ve gotta get you to the hospital!” he said, grabbing her arm.
The visions started. Jake cleaved in two by a maniacal man with a sword. She shoved him away, landing hard on her backside while he careened into the bathroom wall.
“No, Jake. Leave me be!” She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face from the light. She shivered from cold and pain. He brought her a blanket and draped it over her. “Jake, something is really wrong with me.”
“No, really?” he retorted. “Did you call Dr. Bylun or not?”
“He didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Even when you told him your issues?” he asked, disappointed.
“I couldn’t get past his secretary.” She saw Cody’s broken body again in her mind and pushed it away. Every vision she’d had, even when Jake touched her, had been of death.
“That’s strange. He should’ve called you.”
Her phone rang, and she saw Dr. Mallard’s number flash on the screen.
“Hi Linda,” she murmured.
“Sofia, this is Dr. Mallard. We were expecting you at seven-fifteen.”
She glanced at her watch. It was nine. “I’m sorry, doc. I overslept.”
“It’s important Dr. Czerno sees you this morning. Can you come in?” he asked.
“No, no, my eyes are too sensitive.”
“Why don’t we do an old-fashioned house call and come to you?”
“Well …” She hesitated, surprised at his persistence. She could see a shredded couch cushion and broken glass in the hallway outside the bathroom door and recalled the shape her apartment was in. “Doc, I’ll come in tomorrow. I’m not having a good morning.”
“Hon, this is important. Dr. Czerno believes you’ll begin to have more symptoms soon, ones that might indicate the disease is accelerating.”
“Symptoms, like what?”
“Hallucinations. Paranoia. Sense of doom.”
“Doc, I…” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the visions.
“Here, let me put you on with Dr. Czerno.” There was the sound of a phone being shuffled from one person to another, then a flat, deep male voice.
“Sofia, this is Dr. Czerno. It’s imperative you see me at the earliest opportunity.”
“Doc, what’s wrong with me?” she asked.
“I can explain in detail in person, but it’s important I see you now.” There was something about his tone—flat and free of human warmth like the talking computer her blind coworker used—that made her uneasy.
“I’ll be in when I can, doc,” she murmured. “Can you tell me what other symptoms I might have?”
“Have you experienced any of the symptoms Dr. Mallard described?”
“Yes.”
“And more?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about them,” he ordered.
No. Her instincts were
restless, and every fiber in her body warned her not to respond.
“I’ll come see you right away,” she said, suspecting this alone would pacify him.
“Very good. I will be here. How far out are you?”
“About an hour.”
“I will see you soon. And Sofia, I don’t appreciate being stood up.” There was a warning note in his voice that made her more uncomfortable. She hung up. Her last hope for understanding what was wrong with her was someone she innately knew she didn’t want to meet.
“Who was that? Dr. Bylun?” Jake asked hopefully, reappearing in the bathroom doorway.
“No. Dr. Mallard. He flew in a specialist,” she responded, pulling the blanket over her head to shield her further from the sunlight. “I don’t think I like him.”
“I thought Dr. Mallard was the only doctor you hadn’t fired yet.”
“Not him. The specialist. He sounds like he’s from Russia. His name is Dr. Cicero. Or Zirno. Or something.”
“Czerno?” Jake asked in a hushed voice.
“Yeah, that’s it. You heard of him?”
Jake was so quiet, she thought he left until he spoke again.
“Sofia, will you come with me somewhere?”
“Not during daylight.” If not for the painful sunlight, she would’ve looked up at the hushed note in his voice. Her body was beginning to ache more, from her battered hands to her bruised cheek from when she’d fallen after fainting the night before. A deeper ache, as if she had the flu and every muscle in her body was on fire, was made worse by sleeping on the cold floor. She was in pain she didn’t understand. A tear trickled down her cheek.
She’d never been moody or wimpy or weak! In high school and college, she played co-ed soccer and basketball. Since leaving college, she’d stayed in shape through the local gym, where she lifted weights and forced herself onto a cardio machine twice a week. She wasn’t in tip-top shape, but she wasn’t weak!
“What the hell happened to your apartment?”
“I don’t know.”