War of Gods Box Set

by Ford, Lizzy

  “I can’t keep such horrible things to myself.”

  “Three, you can’t save the world,” he replied. “You can tell me what you see, if you need to talk about it. Does that work?”

  She frowned, unconvinced. He rattled off more rules, and she listened without registering any of them. What the hell was an Oracle anyway? How did one just morph into one? Maybe it was the mercury in the tuna she ate or the excessive amounts of chocolate. Could eating fake sweetener turn her into something like this? If so, what would hard water do to a person?

  She laughed. Startled, Damian stared at her.

  “Sorry. I was thinking … it’s stupid,” she said. “I’m overwhelmed. One day I’m a boring financial planner, and the next day, I can’t go out in sunlight and I see the future.”

  “You’ll be able to go outside once you transform.”

  “What does that mean? Transform into what?”

  “One of us. Our kind tend to live much longer than the average human. You’ll finish transforming soon and will be like a human, just with a very, very long and extended life. Except…” He trailed off, giving her a considering look.

  “Except what?” she demanded, panicking. “I have three eyes instead of two? I grow a tail?”

  “Nothing like that,” he assured her with a small smile. “One day, I’ll tell you. You’ll eventually have additional requirements to sustaining your body.”

  “When can I go outside?” she asked again.

  “Soon.”

  They gazed at each other again, and she tried her damndest not to look away. A slow, languid smile crossed his features, one that made her body flush and ache for him. The vision of him on top of her protruded into her thoughts again. She looked away.

  “I’ll always win that game,” he warned.

  You have no idea, she mused. There were a great many things she’d let him do to her to win the game in her head.

  “Like what?”

  “You really can read minds,” she whispered, stricken.

  “Damn straight. And I’m willing if you’re willing,” he said with a smile that set her blood alight. He clasped his hands behind his head, giving her an unobstructed view of his body.

  “I’m not some sort of floozy,” she snapped, though she couldn’t help wishing she was. “I don’t sleep with random men, especially those who aren’t … you’re not even human, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “What are you?”

  “I guess you could say I’m a divine spirit of sorts,” he said, guarded once more.

  “A ghost?”

  “Not that kind of spirit.” He didn’t expand, and she was too afraid to ask. “I’m going out for a meeting in about an hour. I’ll probably be gone until noon or so. Han will be here if you need anything. Or, I can cancel, and we can live out the—”

  “No, thanks,” she said, standing and all but bolting out of his suite. Her head hurt again, this time from trying to digest what he was telling her. She could see the future and he was a … what the hell was he?

  He could read minds.

  It made no sense, but neither did the sudden craving for peanut butter that dragged her to the kitchen, where yet another man she wanted to avoid was lounging. She snagged a jar of Jif and a spoon, retreating to her library. Jake followed, and Han was already waiting for her.

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked.

  “Transforming. Can’t you tell?” Irritated he continued to disturb her peace, she leveled a glare on him.

  He stalked off, and Han glanced down from his bored stare at the ceiling. She didn’t care if he was miserable or not—she hadn’t ordered him to babysit her. A few minutes later, Jake returned with a jug of water, appearing less than excited.

  “Your shift,” Han said and rose.

  Sofia retreated to her room, not wanting to fight more with Jake. She left the door cracked until she heard Jake greet Damian as the leader passed her room. After another half an hour, she gathered up a small backpack she’d found in a closet. The day before, she’d found quite a few treasures, to include the backpack, a flashlight, the key locker for the cars in the garage, and Jake’s wallet, which happened to have a credit card, which she had secretly used to book a flight from Tucson to Virginia.

  “I want to go out,” she said and emerged from her bedroom.

  “Great,” Jake said, rising from his seat outside her door and trailing her down the stairs.

  “To the airport,” she added.

  “That’s a no-go, Sofi.”

  Ignoring him, she pulled out a set of keys and walked down the hall to the front door.

  “Sofia,” Jake called, trailing.

  “You’re not allowed to touch me,” she reminded him.

  “D is.”

  “D’s at some meeting. Remember?”

  He frowned but followed her into the cool, pre-dawn morning toward the garage. Damian had a lot of cars, and she found the black BMW whose lights flashed when she clicked the key fob. She climbed in. Jake slid into the passenger seat beside her, pulling out his cell as he did.

  He dialed and spoke in a different language to the man on the other end. She tightened her grip on the wheel, assuming he spoke to Damian. He didn’t appear out of thin air to stop her, and she made it from the mansion to the Tucson airport’s arrivals drop-off area, where she stopped in front of the Delta curbside check-in sign and handed Jake the keys.

  She was pretty sure Damian would find her no matter where she tried to go, but damn them all, she was going home.

  Jake didn’t follow her as she strode into the airport and checked in, careful not to brush up against anyone for fear of the jarring visions. She didn’t relax until her plane was in the air, and only then was she able to loosen the muscles in her neck when she sat pressed against the window to prevent her elbow from touching the man beside her.

  Several hours later, just as evening set in, she entered the disaster that was her apartment. Sofia dropped her backpack onto the kitchen counter, taking in the damage. She rummaged around one of the cupboards for her prescription painkillers, her head pounding.

  “Hello, Sofia,” a familiar voice said. “I was worried when you didn’t show for your appointment.”

  She turned, startled to find the man in front her of the same make and mold as Damian’s men. The doctor’s eyes were the color of cold steel, his face stoic, his large form tense. His hair was silvered.

  “Dr. Czerno?” she managed. “You’re not a doctor, are you?”

  “No, Sofia.”

  She stared at him and edged around the kitchen island. She darted for the door, but he snatched her arm. His visions were more than just his death; they were the first-person experience of the torturing and killing of many, many others, as if she were mutilating others. She staggered under the weight of them, dropping to her knees. He released her.

  “I think you see what I am about,” he said. Tears streamed down her face as screams echoed in her mind. “I can carry you or you can walk out.”

  “Walk,” she managed, shuddering at the lingering visions that left an acrid taste in her mouth.

  “Let’s go.”

  She pushed herself off the floor and rose. The kind of creature that could do such things to other men left her no doubt he’d do the same to her if she didn’t obey. She shivered and hugged herself as they emerged into the cool fall dusk. A chauffeur opened the door to a town car waiting at the curb nearest her apartment building. She looked up and down the street. It was busy enough; she might be able to lose him if she made it to a crowd of people.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Czerno gripped her arm again. Sofia sagged, crippled by the burning visions. He shoved her into the car, and she crawled as far from him as she could. The car started up, and they merged into traffic. Czerno raised the privacy glass between them and the driver with the push of a button.

  “Tell me, love, just how powerful are you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Sti
ll transforming, I see.”

  And he smiled, a cold smile that did not reach the death in his eyes.

  Damian turned the cell phone back on and emerged into the warm evening air from the Marriott’s conference room, the random place chosen by his spy chief for this week’s intelligence briefing. The situation in Europe plagued him, as did the declining number of Guardians. This would be the first year he’d gone into the negative in a thousand of years. He was losing established Guardians—mostly in Europe—and an entire class of new recruits.

  Dusty’s suggestion to bring in every station chief for interrogation was sounding better. As a former assassin and interrogator, Dusty didn’t much care for people to begin with. Dusty’s skills were legendary, but Damian had held off on what he considered a reign of terror for his seasoned Guardians. Dusty’s interviewees rarely lived through the ordeal, and Damian wasn’t yet ready for that step. His cell rang before it could upload the number of voicemails and texts.

  “I’m done, Han. What’s up?”

  “This message is from Dusty. He wants to know what the fuck you were doing that you couldn’t answer your phone.”

  “I’ll call him,” he promised.

  “We have a serious issue,” Han said in a flat voice. “You need to get to NOVA now.”

  “Consider me there.” He waited until he was out of sight of the hotel’s cameras before Traveling to Virginia with his magic. Han had never led him astray in the thousands of years as his XO.

  “’Bout time,” Dusty said as he appeared.

  Damian accepted his hand in greeting, looking around. The room was as still as a graveyard despite the dozen Guardians there. Dusty had called in the entire sector. If he were personally involved in the operation, something was very, very wrong.

  “I think this is yours,” Dusty said and handed him a few surveillance pictures taken of one of Czerno’s safe houses in northern Virginia and an apartment building. Damian froze as he saw the photo of Czerno dragging Sofia to a car.

  “How the fuck did she get to Virginia?” he roared.

  “She flew,” Dusty said, leveling a look on Jake, who stood in a corner with his head bowed.

  Furious his order had been disobeyed, Damian started for the young Guardian. Dusty planted a hand in his chest.

  “D, we need to get to her now. We know what he’s planning,” he said calmly. “You hear me? We know where he’s taking her.”

  Damian met Dusty’s clear blue eyes, blood boiling.

  “C’mon, bro. If he finishes with her before we get there …”

  They were fucked. Damian forced himself to focus on Dusty, though he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around the newbie’s neck. The thought of Sofia in Czerno’s hands did worse than anger him—he felt fear for the first time in millennia.

  “You know where she is,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll do this your way, Dusty. We raze the place. No survivors.”

  “We’ll drop you in first,” Dusty said. “Whatever you don’t destroy, we will. I called in the DC Sector for support as well.”

  “He’s going with me,” Damian said, indicating Jake.

  “Agreed. Jake, prepare yourself. You’ve got half an hour.”

  It was a death sentence, and Damian saw the realization in Jake’s eyes before the newbie left for the weapons room. The other Guardians filed out in silence befitting a funeral.

  “He’s the only one at station who can Travel,” Dusty reminded him.

  “I don’t give a damn. If we can’t un-fuck what he did, Czerno will destroy humanity overnight.” And Sofia, he added silently.

  “I’ll put out a recruitment requirement for a new Traveler,” Dusty said and begin handing him weapons.

  Damian pulled off his sweater to reveal a black T-shirt and tucked weapons into his cargo pants, boots, and pockets. They were silent, aware this would be one of the most crucial battles they’d encountered in ages.

  “Is she like the Oracles in your father’s court?” Dusty asked. “Does she understand how important her gift is?”

  “Not yet,” Damian admitted. “She’s this sexy little thing with beautiful eyes. Lots of spunk and stubborn as an ox. Nice rack, killer legs. So sweet and innocent. Were we ever innocent?”

  “Nope. We were damaged goods when we were dropped onto this planet.”

  He felt Dusty’s thoughtful gaze on him and looked up from strapping a gun to his ankle. “What’s up?” he asked, straightening. Dusty shook his head, though Damian saw his faint smile. “Bro, what’s up?”

  “Either you need a woman real bad or there’s something special about this one.”

  “Hey now, don’t insult my Oracle,” Damian warned. “Assuming she survives tonight.”

  He ignored Dusty’s intent look, aware his adopted brother knew when he was avoiding answering his question. Dusty was right on both accounts: he needed a woman, and this one was special. He didn’t dare mess with an Oracle, though. It was common sense: never piss off the woman who could see the future, lest she alter it and make your life hell. Thousands of years hadn’t given him much insight into a woman’s way of thinking, but this he knew without a doubt.

  “As if the European front wasn’t enough,” Dusty muttered.

  “Tell me about it. After this is over, I’ll tell you about the Guardian recruitment stats.”

  “Gods.”

  “Yeah.”

  Hang in there, Sofia.

  CHAPTER SIX

  They drove west, away from DC. Sofia watched the scenery turn from urban to rural and recognized the roads leading up to Skyline Drive, the scenic route running through the mountains of northern Virginia. The town car moved at a quick pace, bringing them to a mansion atop one of the private, gated drives tucked away from sight along Skyline Drive.

  Czerno motioned her out of the car as it stopped in front of the Georgian-style manor house.

  Not expecting the dizzy spell, she staggered against the car, cringing away from Czerno as he snatched her arms and dragged her to the house. He released her and tossed his coat to a waiting maid before motioning Sofia to follow.

  She followed, heart racing. She passed several men with guns hidden in the alcoves of doors as she walked. Upon passing the first, she realized they weren’t men at all. No human’s eyes glowed red, and their inhuman growls as she passed resembled those of animals. They watched her like they intended to make her their dinner. She hurried to follow Czerno, silently praying Jake ratted her out to Damian.

  There were two other men in the study Czerno into which led her. The door closed behind her, and he pointed to a chair. She sat, taking in the Goth décor that made the study as welcoming as a graveyard. The other two men gazed at her. One was of medium height and slender, an older man with sharp green eyes the color of forest moss who seemed out of place in the middle of the room. The second was closer to Han’s age with midnight hair and eyes.

  Neither looked friendly. She stayed the urge to curl up in her chair, jumping when a shadow with lopsided shoulders emerged from the corner dressed like an executioner in black hood and gloves.

  “Jilian, check her,” Czerno ordered. “Two, prep the room.”

  The man in the executioner’s hood left while Jilian, the man with midnight hair and eyes, approached. She blinked, shocked when he walked through the man with the green eyes as if he weren’t there. Jilian wrenched her up. Visions slammed into her, each one as vivid as the next, the sights, smells, sounds. He was Czerno’s personal hit man, an executioner with no heart or soul.

  “Unbound,” Jilian said, releasing her. She dropped into her chair, shaking.

  “I’m impressed,” Czerno said. “Bylun’s gone soft.”

  “If he didn’t act, there’s a reason,” Jilian observed.

  “If he didn’t act, I will,” Czerno responded. “Get her ready, fast. Damian’s not gonna sit around for this one.”

  Jilian grabbed her again, and she grated her teeth against the v
isions, staggering as she tried to keep upright. He led her down the stairs into a basement that looked more like a dungeon. One well-lit room gleamed with stainless steel. Until she saw the blood on the walls and ceiling, she thought it was a surgical room.

  The torture room from her visions. Panic gripped her, and she tried to bolt. Jilian snatched her and slammed her onto the table, pinning her in place as he strapped her wrists and ankles in.

  “Please don’t—” she cried, yanking at her arms and legs.

  “Shut up. The more noise you make, the worse I make it for you.”

  She obeyed, breathing raggedly. He retrieved a jar from the small refrigerator and laid it next to a surgical knife, a large rubber tube, and a huge syringe.

  Oh, god, oh god, oh, god! Sofia pulled again at her bindings and closed her eyes against the blood splatters on the ceiling.

  “What are you going to do?” she whispered.

  “You’re the Oracle.”

  “I only see other people’s fates, not mine.”

  “You see mine?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “You die.” Horribly. At Damian’s hands. That Damian was capable of the same level of violence as these men reminded her that this world was nothing like hers.

  “Guess they forgot to tell you I’m immortal,” Jilian said and laughed. “Only Czerno or Damian can kill me.”

  I’m sorry, Jake. I’m sorry, Damian.

  “I’m going to drain your blood,” he said conversationally. “You should be grateful. Czerno wants this done his way, not mine.”

  From her visions, neither of them was capable of any measure of kindness. Tears trickled down her face, tickling her ears.

  “Then we’ll bind you to him.”

  “What does that mean?” she forced herself to ask to keep hysterics from claiming her.

  “An Oracle must be blood bound to her master to be of any use and keep you from dying from the Transformation. We’ll bind you to Czerno, and you’ll serve him for all eternity.”