by Lizzy Ford
“B can heal anything. Am I in trouble?”
“You probably should be,” he replied. “I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck to do with you.”
“Toni said he thinks I have some of the um, Natural ability.”
“What’s your talent?”
“He thinks its weaponry or something. I can master any weapon without really trying,” Jonny said, a touch of pride in his voice.
“Not bad.”
“Is B okay?” the youth asked in a hushed tone.
“You mean, after you sold her out to Talon?” Dusty replied. A look of anguish crossed Jonny’s face. “She’s fine. You’ll probably have some explaining to do to her, though.”
“I never, ever meant for her to get hurt. Can I see her?”
“Soon. Did anyone ask you about Talon?”
“I spoke to a few people. I don’t remember much, though. It’s like I was in this weird dream. Everything’s fuzzy.”
“I’m going to have someone else talk to you today,” Dusty said. “We’ll put you in the Naturals training program. Welcome to your new life.”
“Is B a Natural, too?”
“She is.”
“Who’s her assigned Guardian?” Jonny asked.
“I am.”
Jonny hesitated then looked up finally. “She’s a good cook, but she’s afraid of spiders, and she always loses things. Don’t give her your only set of keys to anything. Or the remotes. She’ll lose those, too. She’s always happy-- I’ve never seen her upset. It’s annoying sometimes. Just please … be nice to her. I’m a screw-up, but she isn’t. She doesn’t deserve what I put her through. I gotta make it up to her somehow.”
His last words were whispered, his face red. Dusty gazed at him, sensing how much he loved his sister and how hurt he was by his own actions. He understood what it was to lose a sister and hoped the stupid kid before him never went through that pain.
“I’ll take care of her, Jonny,” he promised. “Get your shit straight and keep it straight. Go see Sofi in the library.”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
Dusty rose and returned to the main house in time for the intel briefing, expecting another nonstop day. The skies opened once again as he reached the house, and thunder boomed in the distance.
* * *
The Oracle Sofia felt the youth enter the library like a cold breeze in a sauna. Bianca’s drowsy cat warmed one of her thighs, and it hopped off to hide beneath the table opposite her. Her evolving power told her more than she wanted to know, even before she faced him. Choppy scenes of the boy’s past and future blinked into her thoughts.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the boy called out in a quiet, nervous voice.
She wasn’t sure what she expected when she faced him, but it wasn’t the gangly young man with large, uncertain brown eyes. His memories and thoughts played like home videos, similar to those of her mate, Damian, and his adopted brothers. Only those touched by fate had such vivid memories that entered her mind unbidden. The boy was meant for greatness-- and darkness.
“Come in, Jonny,” she said. “Sit down.”
He hesitated, visibly unsettled by what she knew were her spinning silver-blue eyes. He obeyed and sat across from her, shifting in his seat several times under her gaze.
“I’m Sofi, the White God’s Oracle,” she started. “I can see parts of the future and more importantly for you, a person’s soul.”
His eyes widened, and he shifted again. Something flickered in his gaze, and she guessed he had an inkling of what awaited him. Her throat tightened as she looked at him. The fate awaiting the young man was one she wouldn’t wish on anyone, even the Black God himself.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” he whispered. “I’m bad, aren’t I, or I wouldn’t have done what I did to B.”
“Good and evil exist in all of us,” she said, not sure what to say. “You … you’re meant to maintain a vital balance in this world. You’re a god-slayer, Jonny, and you must kill a god. It’s your fate, but I feel like you know this. How?”
Jonny’s gaze darkened, and he rose, pacing to the window. She watched the memories in his head.
“Dreams,” he said. “I almost died when I was a child. B cured me, but I felt like I was touched by something then. It makes no sense, but I couldn’t ever leave that night behind.”
“What do you see in your dreams?”
“Darkness.” His voice caught. “Evil. Death. I didn’t think it was real until … until Talon. The dreams got worse, and then I went to Talon’s one night. I couldn’t remember anything until I saw Bianca again and she fixed me in the hospital. But the darkness was still there, like Talon put something evil in me.”
“Talon didn’t. You’d been protected by other immortal beings called the Watchers until it was time for your fate to unravel. Talon made you immortal and awoke your gift,” Sofi replied.
“What gift?” Jonny asked, facing her again. “What am I meant to do?”
“What you think you’re meant to do.”
His mouth worked without producing a sound, and his eyes watered. Jonny wiped his face. He took a deep breath and tried again.
“I’m meant to do what Talon said-- kill the Black God.”
“Yes, Jonny, you are,” she said. “Only with you taking the Black God’s place can the balance between good and evil survive the week.”
“I can’t be like Talon. I’m not like Talon!” he said. “I can’t be!”
“You must fulfill your role, or humanity is lost this weekend.”
“How can you ask this of me?” he demanded, emotions wild on his face.
Sofi watched him, her own transition from human to Oracle causing fresh pain. She still didn’t understand the depth of her talents or how to control the visions, and being alone and away from her mate made some days unbearable. Even so, her own fate was nothing like Jonny’s, a good kid who would be forced to take on the Black God’s mantle and spearhead the forces of evil.
He flung himself down in the chair again and propped up his forehead with his hands. Tears spilled down his face. She braced herself and reached out to him. Unlike touching Czerno, whose dark memories had overwhelmed her just standing near him, Jonny had only one bad memory, that of his first kill that turned him from human to immortal. She felt the same streak of cold within him that she’d felt in the Black God. It was a part of him, just as being an Oracle was a part of her. Their gifts were inseparable from themselves.
“How long do I have to do this?” he asked. “A few years?”
“A few thousand. The next god-slayer won’t be born for thirty or forty thousand years.”
“Oh, god!”
“You must do it, Jonny.” She felt ill the moment the words left her mouth. She was condemning a good person to a fate of darkness and despair, and yet, if he didn’t understand the importance of his role, humanity would be annihilated.
“I can’t be like him!”
“You don’t have to be, but you must fulfill the duties of the Black God. He does them now with no regard for the lives of innocents. You can make your own rules within those duties,” she said. Even as she spoke, she saw pieces of his future blink in her thoughts.
There was no such thing as a good Black God, and Jonny would be no exception. Sofi’s own eyes watered at the revelation of his fate. He would be nothing like any Black God before him, but he’d be far from the hopeful, kind youth he was now.
“Stay with Dusty this weekend,” she continued. “You’ll know when it’s time.”
“No!” he snapped and pushed her hand away. The young man rose and stormed to the library door. “I won’t do it! I won’t spend my life being a monster! I can choose not to!”
“You’ll do it, or you’ll watch your sister die at the Black God’s hands,” Sofi said in a hard voice as she rose to face the door.
“I’ll find a way to save her,” he said, stopping at her words. He was breathing hard.
“You have a way to save her. One
way.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, facing her again. Anger and terror were on his face.
“I only See what fate allows me to,” she replied. “I can’t change what I See. It is the most likely event to occur. There are two paths for you to follow: you become the Black God, or your sister and everyone else in the mortal realm dies. That’s all there is, Jonny.”
His anger faltered, and sorrow filled his face. “If what you say is true, the first person I kill once I’m the Black God will be you. If you can really see the future, you could’ve prevented all of this!”
“Sometimes, death and evil are necessary,” she told him. He looked at her long enough for her to see resignation in his gaze. He wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him.
Sofi watched him go and swallowed hard. It wouldn’t be an easy weekend for any of them. Worse, she’d lost telepathic contact with Damian a few days before she realized she needed to send a 911 message.
There was a knock at the door; Jenn opened it and froze.
“Sorry, ikira,” she murmured. “I was looking for the kid.”
Sofi gazed at her, visions from Jonny’s future swirling in her thoughts. Gazing at Dusty’s trusted Guardian, she felt a familiar ache, the same she felt telling Jonny his fate.
“He’s not here, Jenn,” she said softly. “Would you do something for me?”
“Of course.” The Guardian snapped to attention, expecting a mission. Sofi smiled to herself. Dusty’s Guardians were disciplined, unlike her own personal bodyguard, Pierre.
“I just need you to remind Darian of something. Not anytime soon. You’ll know when,” she said quickly. “Your path is intertwined with Darian’s, so you’ll be there when he needs to know this. Just tell him the gateway can’t be closed.”
Jenn’s brow furrowed, but she responded quickly. “I’ll do that.”
“Thanks. It’s important,” Sofi said. She picked up her book and walked past the female Guardian, who watched her go, puzzled.
Chapter Seven
Someone beat on the door across the hall loud enough for Bianca to hear over the TV and sporadic thunder. She rose, bored after being trapped alone the whole day in the condo, and peered through the peephole. Two large men stood in front of the door across the hall. Unease spiraled through her. She’d only seen men built like that in Dusty’s organization and Talon’s gang. Dusty’s men would know where to find her.
The two looked up and down the hallway, then withdrew a lock pick set. One turned all the way around to ensure no one was watching. His eyes flashed red.
She gasped and stepped away, heart pounding. She tiptoed away from the door. The building swayed gently in the strong winds whipping through southern Florida, and water pelted the windows across from her. It was in the middle of the afternoon, but the skies were dark grey.
She had no phone, no way of contacting Dusty or Jenn or Darian. She hadn’t been able to log onto Dusty’s computer, because he kept it locked out. She had no money, no purse …
Keys. She had Dusty’s car. She pulled on jeans and a sweater, hands shaking as she pulled on socks. She snatched the keys and jammed them in her pocket then peered through the peephole again.
One of the men was in plain sight in the middle of the condo opposite hers, waiting on the other. She ran to the bedroom and flipped on the TV loud then hid in the coat closet beside the front door.
Their knocking made her heart flip, and she covered her mouth at her gasp. She heard the locks slide, one by one. The door opened, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked as they entered. She peered through the crack in the door until certain they both entered the bedroom, then opened the closet door and slid out the opened front door.
She sprinted down the hall and ducked into the doorway to the stairwell. No one followed. She opened the stairwell door and hurried down the stairs two floors then darted into a hallway to the elevator.
The descent to the garage seemed longer than the longest car ride she’d ever taken. She jumped when the door dinged finally as she reached the garage. The scent of rain and oil made her nose crinkle after so long in the condo. She clicked the buttons on the key fob until Dusty’s car blinked in response, then trotted to it.
Hands shaking, she looked around the car’s interior for a cell. Or a map. There was an old-school cell phone in the glove box. Anxious never, ever to run into Talon or his men again, she left the garage and drove through the streets. Water streamed through the gutters, and those cars out in the storm crawled block-to-block.
She stopped at a stoplight, only for the car behind her to slide into her. The bump jarred the cell phone loose, and it fell in the space between the seat and door. The driver from the car behind her approached. She cracked the door to squeeze her hand in the space as well as to tell the other driver not to worry about the car. The door was wrenched open, and a man pointed the gun at her.
“Out of the car, bitch!” he shouted.
She unfastened the seatbelt, all but falling into the street as he yanked her out. He climbed in, maneuvering it through the crowded street.
Bianca watched him go. She didn’t know how much an Aston Martin cost, but it was enough that Dusty would probably be pissed.
Within seconds, she was drenched. Carless, moneyless, lost, she retreated to the sidewalk. This time, Dusty was going to kill her for losing his car. Shivering, she walked until she found a Starbucks and ducked inside. There was only one other customer and several baristas talking loudly behind the counter. They looked towards her as the bell over the door rang.
“Welcome to Starbucks!” one greeted her. “A little rough out there?”
“You have no idea!” she said. “I just need a place to duck out of the rain for a bit.” The young woman motioned to the sitting area, and Bianca went, relieved. She faced the windows, watching the torrent outside.
“On the house,” a barista said, placing a drink before her. “It’s your favorite.”
She looked up at him with a curious smile. He was tall and lanky with a huge smile and close-spaced eyes that seemed more soulful than his youthful looks warranted.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” she replied. “I’m not having a good afternoon.”
“You need me to call anyone?” His tone was unassuming, but his gaze was intent, as if he were trying to gauge if she recognized him or not.
She hesitated then asked, “Can you call someone to come get me?”
“Definitely.” He walked away, responding to one of the baristas teasing him.
She sipped her drink, surprised to find it really was her favorite, a pumpkin spice latte. She chuckled to herself, wondering if guessing someone’s favorite drink was his Natural gift. He returned after a few minutes and sat across from her.
“Is this your gift?” she asked, holding up the drink.
“HQ put out a BOLO for you half an hour ago. Any of us in the field receive it,” he said and held up his iPhone. “It lists your pic and all your bio info, which includes your favorite food down to the coffee.”
“Really? Wow!”
“They’ll come get you.”
“Here I thought you were a mind reader or something!” she said.
“Alas, no. I’m just Jerry.”
“Are there many of you?”
“Quite a few, and they’re pulling in everyone from the east coast to Miami and Orlando. I was working in Georgia ’til this morning. I’m surprised to say the weather was better.”
“Yeah, anywhere is probably better than this,” she said. She shivered, cold and wet.
“You can go wait in the back if you want. There’s a dryer and a stack of towels next to the shower. The BOLO said you’re probably running from bad guys. Might do you good to get out of sight,” he said, nodding towards the windows.
“Been there, done that,” she said, rising. She shivered again, this time out of fear. “Thanks, Jerry.”
The break room in t
he back was small with a table, refrigerator and microwave, a white board listing names and schedules, and a locker room with a shower and washer and dryer. She tugged off her shirt and wrapped it in towels to dry it before tossing it in the dryer. She blotted herself dry and wrapped herself in the towel.
“You should have one of these.” The friendly male voice made her jump. She whirled. An older, harmless-looking man with white hair and beautiful emerald eyes stood near the door, holding out a phone. For a moment, she thought she should know him. The sense passed.
“Who are you?” she asked, covering her chest with a folded towel.
“I’m a friend.”
“Are you my ride?”
“I brought you something. I assigned everyone a ring tone and put their phone numbers in it,” he said, looking somewhat proud.
She gave him a puzzled smile and reached out to take the phone he held out. She selected the address book on the phone. Dusty, Sofia, Darian, Damian, Jule, Jenn, Toni, Jonny, Watcher.
“Watcher?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“That’s your name?”
“More like my duty position. Dusty should have given you a means of contacting someone in an emergency,” he said with disapproval.
“I doubt he expected the bad guys to find me,” she replied.
“The bad guys have someone telling them where to look. It makes a difference,” he said. “My email address is in there, too. And you can text me. I’ll update your address list virtually over the next few years.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome. Your ride is almost here. We’ll meet again.” He disappeared much as Darian did.
She stared in the space he’d occupied and looked at the phone. He’d been so excited about his phone. She typed a message to him.
Stay dry!
LOL – I will! The reply was instant. She set the phone down and retrieved her sweater from the dryer. It was almost dry. She dialed Dusty.
“Dustin,” came his low bark.
“Hi Dusty.”
“Bianca?”
“Yeah. I’m at a Starbucks in-- ”