by Lizzy Ford
He reflected on the images in her mind when Jake touched her. The instincts of the newly minted spy were dead on. She was the greatest find since he’d taken over the war from his slain brother.
He tried to move away, unaccustomed to anyone touching him. She tightened her grip around him, and he was amused to think of himself as any sort of comfort to anyone, let alone a little human like her. He’d not held a woman in too long, and he’d never held one for the sole purpose of comforting her. She needed him. He was surprised to realize he liked the feeling.
Damian breathed in her scent, brutally aware that all that lay between her tight little body and him was a long t-shirt. He’d never been mistaken for a gentleman, but the woman shimmered with a sweet, pure aura that made him feel obliged to behave. Her turquoise eyes had been so lost and confused, he couldn’t help but take pity on her.
Her eyes shimmered with more than tears – they swirled with silver, the way the eyes of ancient oracles did. He’d not seen anything like her since he sat in his father’s court as a child.
“You’re safe,” he told her.
She sighed. With her large, two-toned eyes, flawless skin, and long, straw-colored hair, she resembled a doll. Hers was a cool beauty, and her gaze belied intelligence. That she was an oracle was fantastic. A sexy oracle? Nothing short of miraculous!
“She ok?” Han asked.
Damian heard the laughter in his voice. None of his men had ever seen a human woman throw herself into his arms. His own Guardians stayed out of arms reach of him, and humans picked up and ran.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said, drawing away.
To his surprise, she’d passed out. He scooped her up and placed her on the bed, gaze sweeping over her toned, shapely frame. He felt unusually protective of the small, vulnerable human on the bed before him. Not sure what to make of her, he led Han out and closed the door.
“I think know the answer, but do we have any records that survived the Schism?” he asked, moving away from the door.
“Is she ok?” Jake asked anxiously.
“Kid, back off,” Han warned.
Jake obeyed and darted to the bottom of the stairs, pacing.
“Not that I know of,” Han answered. “There aren’t any living oracles to mentor her, either.”
“That could be an issue,” Damian said, gaze returning to the door he’d just left. “I don’t know shit about training oracles.”
“I don’t think anyone living does, except maybe Czerno. He knew enough to find her and plot to bind her to him.”
The idea of something so sweet in Czerno’s depraved hold irked him. He wouldn’t let someone like her get stuck in the middle of their war.
“Most oracles don’t live long to be of use,” Han added. “Or they’re terrible.”
Not this one. He felt it in his bones, just as he felt a soul deep connection to her the moment he’d touched her.
He pulled out his cell to text his confidantes.
U still online?
Both Dusty and Jule responded with smiley faces.
B on in a sec.
“Han, until I let you go back to war, you’ll be her bodyguard. She knows Jake. If he doesn’t drive her as crazy as he does me, divvy up shifts with him,” he said. “She’s gonna have a rough time ahead of her.”
“Most Naturals get a little more notice before transforming. I think she’s already started?”
“Yeah, and she knows shit about us or what she is.”
Han nodded. Damian felt the unusual urge to look in on her again, to feel her soft skin against him once more and make sure she was safe. Shaking his head, he retreated to his office.
“Either of you know anything about oracles?” he asked as he picked up the headphone-mic combo.
Fuck no.
“Nope,” Jule seconded. “We were just discussing HQ. You having any issues?”
“You mean, like an influx of vamps to Tucson?”
Bingo.
“Yeah. If Dusty doesn’t object, I might reorganize the southwest sectors. Something is up.”
Do whatever you want. You always do.
“Damn, Dusty, you’re a jackass today,” Jule said, amused. “You sure you don’t have a woman plaguing you?”
Damian smiled, waiting for Dusty’s response. He could guess what Dusty was pissed about, and it didn’t have anything to do with him rearranging his sectors.
Today’s my birthday, dick. You forgot again.
“Oooooooohhh,” Jule breathed. “Another birthday? Not sure why you’d count at this point.”
“I remembered,” Damian said promptly. “You’d think after oh, a few thousand years, you’d remember, Jule.”
“I’m sorry, bro. I owe you one,” Jule said, chagrined.
No, you owe me about thirty. Thousand. It’s not every day your BFF turns 300K.
“I forgot you’re still a baby. I passed that mark a few hundred thousand years ago. I’ll send you this video game I’m addicted to,” Jule offered. “You might like it.”
If you love me, you’ll send me the blu-ray versions of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour.
“Ah, my love, your wish is my command.”
Damian chuckled. At more than double both their ages, Jule was as old as the Watchers, exiled to earth after pissing off someone somewhere just before the Schism. He’d never said why, and Damian didn’t ask.
“You happy, Dust-man?” he asked.
Yes.
Han knocked, and he looked up.
“Rainy from the Tucson Sector is here. They’re having issues,” Han said.
“Gotta go, boys,” he said. “We’ll chat tomorrow.”
He pulled off the headphone-mic combo and rose. Ruling an empire wasn’t getting any easier; he rarely had a minute to himself anymore.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Northern Virgina,
The Black God’s summer retreat
Two rolled from his place on the concrete floor in the corner and unwrapped the ratty blanket he used to keep himself warm. His skin was cold to the touch; his breath hung in the air as he moved. His master didn’t believe a slave deserved heat. He dressed himself mechanically and deliberately, hiding away the scarred body his master hated. Every day he awoke wondering what happened to him, but he remembered nothing beyond waking up the day before. The scars covering him from head to toe were from more than his master’s beatings. They were too deep and knotted to be from the daggers or the whip or the hand strikes of his master and his master’s men.
Pants, socks, shoes. T-shirt, sweater, gloves. He made a rhyme out of the process, though he’d forgotten it again this morning. He put on his hood last and tucked its edges into his sweater. Above all, his master hated his scarred face. He flew into an abusive rage when he saw it.
He left the basement and entered the heated first floor. It was time for his master’s breakfast, so he went to the kitchens to fetch his food. The cook was afraid of him and left everything in one corner. He took his bread and canteen of water – the morning sustenance for a slave - and tucked them into a cargo pocket. He lifted his master’s tray. It held breakfast for two, and he racked his mind for who the other was. He couldn’t remember - he never did.
He climbed the steps to his master’s chamber and knocked.
“Come in, Two,” his master replied.
He obeyed. The air of the dark bedroom smelled of sex and blood. He opened the windows, which did little to shed light into the stone room with its masculine, black décor.
“It’s so creepy,” a woman’s voice complained.
He recognized it. When he turned to place their breakfast on the table near the patio, he thought he recognized her. Maybe when she came in. He must have seen her then. His master said a slave didn’t need to remember anything but his master, and he didn’t try too hard to remember her.
His master emerged from the bed, naked. His hair was silver, his body broad-shouldered and muscular. His visitor wore a t-shir
t and had hair the color of last night’s sunset.
“I don’t know why you bother with it,” she said in disdain, looking at him the way his master did.
“Your breakfast is served,” Two said automatically.
“I see that, you fucking idiot,” his master said and slapped him.
Two took his place in the corner, where he stood all day, no matter which room his master was in, in case his master needed him.
“Now that you’re here, my lovely Claire, you can help me nail that son of a bitch for good,” his master said.
“Anything for you,” she said.
They looked at each other. His master looked to make sure he was in his corner, then pulled off the visitor’s clothing. Two looked without seeing.
“I want him to watch” his master said “while I fuck you every way I know how.”
His woman laughed huskily and approached Two naked. Her body was beautiful, curvy, with large breasts. He thought he remembered seeing her naked before, maybe when she arrived last night. He didn’t know for sure.
“This is for you,” she said then returned to his master.
Two watched them tumble into bed and fuck for hours, wondered why it seemed familiar, then decided master was right – slaves were too stupid to remember.
The monster in the corner of her mind was a man, shrouded in darkness. He wasn’t a vision - this much she knew. She heard him even when she was awake, and his crying made her head pulse, as if he were trying to pry his way into her unwilling mind.
“You’re still pissed at me?” Jake asked.
She focused on flipping through a magazine. The mansion’s heavy drapes on the ground floor were closed and the lighting in the library dim enough for her to tolerate. She’d roamed the ground floor before adopting the library as her favorite room and settling in front of a deadened hearth with a stack of celebrity magazines.
“I brought you here, didn’t I?” he tried again.
She gave him a withering look, wondering what crack he was smoking to think he did her any favor by bringing her here instead of to a hospital.
“Come on, Sofi, I’m trying to help you.”
“Ok fine,” she said, tossing the magazine. “Tell me where I am, why I’m here, and what’s wrong with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Then leave me alone.”
Han chuckled from his position near the window. He was pretending to read a book, though she suspected he’d been emplaced as her bodyguard. He’d followed her all around the house earlier like a bored puppy.
“Han, you following me to the bathroom, too?” she challenged, standing.
He snorted. He remained in the same spot until she returned. So did her lying, cheating bastard of an ex boyfriend. If she could slap him, she would.
“You’re in Arizona,” Jake said as she resumed her defensive position in the library’s most comfortable chair. “This is one of D’s compounds. It’s where we come to … be safe.”
“Who is we? Safe from what?”
“You’ve always had this problem,” he said, standing. “You’re stubborn, suspicious of everyone, and you ask so many damn stupid questions.”
“I have every justification to be suspicious of you, Jake.”
“Here we go again. Maybe if you didn’t suffocate me, I -“
“Suffocate? You sleezeball! You couldn’t keep your hands off -“
“You two know each other?” Han asked, lowering his book.
“Unfortunately,” she snapped.
“Hey, now, I did bring you here and try to help you,” Jake pointed out.
He was right, but she didn’t want him to know she knew it. She’d long since forgiven him for cheating on her. They’d dated only for a couple of months, and she knew he wasn’t right for her the first date. But he was so handsome, and she so amazed he wanted to go out with her that she ignored her instincts.
“And it didn’t last.”
He rolled his eyes at her.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” he said with no heat.
She sighed.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” she said. “I don’t hold our past against you at all. I’m just … really frustrated right now.”
“I’m a target of opportunity,” he said. “I know. It’s ok, really. I just wish you’d trust me. I’d never hurt you, Sofi, and I hope you know that and can trust me enough to know you need to be here.”
She nodded and chewed her lip.
“Our past,” Han mulled. “Anyone care to share?”
Jake ignored him, and she shook her head. Her gaze turned to the curtain, where not even a lost sunbeam could enter the room. Struck by longing, she gave a soulful sigh.
“Can I ever go outside again during daylight?” she asked.
“Yeah, after the transformation is complete,” Han responded.
Jake shot him a look.
“Transformation?” she asked.
Han opened his book again, jaw clenched.
“Han, what do you mean?” she prodded. “What am I transforming into?”
At their silence, another thought hit her.
“Jake, am I a vampire? Were you joking?”
“You’re not a vampire,” he assured her. “They’re not intolerant do daylight like you are. We’d have to kill you if you were anyway.”
He was serious, and she gaped at him.
“They are not cool,” he added. “Right, Han?”
“Yep.”
“Who can tell me what’s going on?” she demanded.
“D,” the two responded simultaneously.
Damn. The thought of him made her feel like a girl in junior high being asked to her first dance. Or a drugged rabbit wandering into a hungry bear’s den. She wanted to see the mysterious D and yet couldn’t repel his magnetic draw. Even now, her heart quickened and her thoughts raced to the image of him in tight black clothing.
“Most people react like that,” Han stated. “Not many willingly confront him, especially when he’s in one of his moods. Smart girl.”
She wondered what he meant. She didn’t fear him – she wanted him. Did most people want him? What if he was the only person on the planet who could ever touch her again because of her wacky visions?
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Outside,” Jake said. “If you’re brave enough, you can see him when he’s back.”
“And why should I be brave? What’s wrong with him?”
“You’re right – she does ask a lot of questions,” Han said.
“See?!” Jake exclaimed. “I told you!”
“New rule, Sofia. If you have questions, ask D. We’re not at liberty to discuss much with you.”
Frustrated, Sofia stormed out of the library. Standing in the hall, she couldn’t stop the fear that slid through her. This world … their world … was nothing like what she knew. She felt like she stood at the door of a plane fifteen thousand feet in the air getting ready to sky dive, only she didn’t remember packing a parachute. Her headache was gone for the first time in months, though she felt cold inside.
She put on her sunglasses and started towards the one part of the house Han had warned her away from: the patio that led into the gardens. God help her, she was going into the sunlight no matter how much it hurt!
The light beyond the solid French doors made her flinch, but she forced herself through. The shaded patio was as wide as the mansion with two small outdoor bars and groups of chairs around tables. Signs of the party the night before still remained from the garbage bags awaiting pick up to one table with two wine glasses still present.
She began to sweat before reaching the door leading from the patio to the green blur that was the gardens over which the patio overlooked. She couldn’t make out what was in the garden, but she heard the sounds of fountains and saw the dark green blur of a forest in the distance. By the time she reached the patio door, her skin was clammy and her heart racing.
She emerged into the bright light of a warm
December afternoon and began to melt. There was no denying the sensation of sweat dripping off her body. She closed her eyes against the sunlight and took another two steps into the garden. Grass tickled her toes.
It was hot!!
She retreated to the patio then fled into the house, relieved when the sun was gone. Tears stung her eyes.
“You ok?” Han asked.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she growled. “No, I’m not ok! What normal person can’t go outside? You all kidnapped me, drugged me, dragged me to Arizona – if I’m really in Arizona – and you won’t tell me why or what’s wrong with me! And you know what else? I hate peanut butter. Hate it, hate it, hate it, and I can’t stop eating it! I hate it!”
Embarrassed by her words and the tears streaming down her face, she ran past him to the stairs and up, issuing a cry of frustration when she realized she didn’t know which of the three wings led to her room.
“Turn right, three doors on the left,” Han called.
She followed his directions, slammed her door closed, and locked it. She collapsed onto her bed and sobbed, the man in the corner sobbing with her.
Outside her room, Han whipped out his phone with an irritated sigh.
Your oracle’s a pain in the ass. Damian glanced at the text message from Han before his gaze returned to the small base camp tucked between two ridges in the Tucson Mountains.
“Wish you had good news for me,” he said.
The base camp housed the emergency response helicopters for Tucson and neighboring sectors and was manned with a skeletal crew of Guardians and one on-duty pilot, a Natural who’d been trained to fly.
Rainy, a brooding Guardian with striking green eyes and a shock of dark hair, was his youngest station chief at a youthful two thousand years old. Damian followed him across the dusty landing pads to the helo-hangar. His phone dinged, and he looked down at one of the zillion text messages he received from any number of his Guardians every day.