Usually when he awoke with a hard-on and a woman in his bed, what happened next was pretty straightforward. He rolled onto his side, watching her sleep. Her cool beauty turned haunting in the moonlight that slid through the curtains. She lay sweet and vulnerable on her back, her lips parted and warm body tucked against his side. He touched her face and trailed a finger down her neck, between her breasts, and rested his hand on her stomach.
There were many things he thought of doing to her. He couldn’t risk alienating the woman in his bed, partly because she was still too delicate, too new to his world to take the next step and partly because he was still leery of the powers of an Oracle.
“Damian?” Her voice, thick with sleep, ratcheted up his hormones another level.
“I’m here, kiri,” he said. He brushed stray hairs from her face and replaced his hand on her stomach. The simple movement took discipline Dusty would be proud of.
“Do you think I’m a monster?”
“No, kiri. I think you’re a lost angel.”
“I know where I am,” she said with sleepy stubbornness that made him smile. She roused herself and lay on her side, facing him. His hand shifted to her hip, and he felt the absence of her warmth to the bone. Her eyes glowed and spun. They gazed at each other for a long moment.
“You’re always welcome in my bed, kiri,” he said, satisfied when her pupils dilated and her face reddened. She looked away, embarrassed.
“You shouldn’t say those things,” she whispered.
“Why not? You’re mine already. You just haven’t realized it,” he said.
She gave him an agitated look and rolled onto her stomach, twisting her head away from him.
“Will you answer something personal, Damian?”
“Shoot.”
“What are you? And don’t tell me a divine spirit of sorts. That doesn’t make sense to me.”
He pulled her into his body, even as she refused to look at him. She didn’t resist his touch. She never did, and yet she never surrendered either. It was an odd mix that warned him she’d not yet accepted her place in his world.
“My father was the White God, the deity charged with safeguarding good and battling evil on behalf of all the creatures of the universe. My brother inherited the title when he died. I inherited it from him on his death,” he started.
“You’re a god?”
“Yeah. Cool, isn’t it?” He rested against her, enjoying her scent.
“Why are you on earth? Shouldn’t you be floating in the sky somewhere?” she asked skeptically.
He chuckled.
“A long time ago, there was a battle so horrible it threatened to destroy the whole universe. There are … creatures older than me in the universe, and they were fighting a turf war over who ruled what part of the universe. The battle got so bad that the only way to prevent the annihilation of every being in the universe was to divide the physical and divine worlds. The Schism occurred, and some of us were exiled to the physical world—the human world—while the rest of my kind and the other creatures were confined to the divine world,” he explained. “So, while I am a god, I have to stay here, where I’m preordained to fight Czerno, the Black God, for the fate of humanity.”
As he spoke, memories streamed through his mind, memories of the universe before the Schism and afterwards, when he and a few others were cast alone onto earth. He thought again of the Watcher’s latest warning, of there being a new god in town.
“Were there many Oracles before the Schism?” she asked.
“Oracles are rare but there was at least one every generation. When the kings of our people found them, they mated with them to bind them to them.”
“Instead of blood binding?”
“Depended on the king and the Oracle. I would say it was a rough lesson in history when the kings of my time learned that killing a woman with the intent to bring her back as your servant doesn’t really work as they’d planned,” he explained.
“If you killed me, I’d make your life hell.”
“Exactly.”
“Who’s Darian?” she asked and pushed herself up enough to look at him. Damian’s jaw clenched. When he didn’t answer, she continued. “I have dreams about him where he’s sad and alone.”
“Darian was my brother, Sofia,” he said quietly. “He died a long time ago.”
He met her gaze and saw her confusion. The tension between them was thick. He knew without touching her mind that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She cleared her throat and lay down again, facing away from him.
“I’m bound to you forever,” she whispered.
“Yep. You’re mine.”
“Will you … can you have a mate and an Oracle?”
He considered, smiling to himself. For her sake, he made an effort to behave, but he truly loved the openings she gave him.
“I can,” he concurred. “Many times, a king will take an Oracle as his mate. But if you don’t stop messing with my weak heart, I’ll go elsewhere for a mate.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“I’ll say again: you’re welcome in my bed, preferably naked, though this is good enough for now, I guess.”
“Damian …” She didn’t finish. He understood. She was terrified of what she was, of his world, of him. He was a saint through and through for rubbing her back instead of seducing her. He liked that she needed the comfort only he could provide, trusted him on a level that seemed to him far more intimate than fucking.
Then again, he was a man, and he didn’t pretend to understand a woman’s mind. He’d never lie down in a woman’s bed and expect to sleep when they were both horny. It was purely a woman thing.
“You must miss your brother,” she said softly.
His thoughts turned dark. He didn’t like that she was able to pull those memories free of the prison he’d sent them to. He released a small burst of power into her. She fell into a deep sleep. Damian wrapped his arm around her and held her close for a moment, torn between thoughts of her naked and thoughts of his brother’s death.
A light knock at his door distracted him from both painful thoughts. He covered Sofia with a comforter and closed the door to his bedroom behind him.
“Come in,” he ordered. The door opened, and he froze.
“Hey, love.” Claire was as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. With red hair, glowing skin, a voluptuous body he’d experienced many times over, and beautiful eyes, she was the epitome of beauty.
“Hello, Claire.”
She closed the door behind her, dressed in clothing that accentuated her large breasts and tight body. His blood boiled more at the memories that pricked his mind. She looked at him with a coy smile before approaching. He didn’t move, unable to determine if this was a dream or a nightmare. His slain brother’s wife had always been a painful sight for him, the reminder of his brother and a happier time before the Schism. She leaned against him, her hand trailing down his chest and settling on his crotch.
“I see you remember the last time we met,” she said, desire clouding her gaze. She kissed him, and he responded, his mind on her and Sofia. It would take Sofia awhile before she came to his bed of her own accord. Claire was ready for him now.
Her arms slid around him, and he pulled her against him, kissing her hungrily. She gripped his ass the way he liked. He kneaded her breasts, wanting nothing better than to suckle her until she cried out in ecstasy.
Sofia. He pulled back, breathing deeply.
“C’mon, love, I’m wet for you,” she purred.
Shit! He wanted to fuck someone, and that someone was sleeping in his bed. There was a time when he didn’t care who he slept with, when he was hard at the sight of any woman who would take him to bed.
“I can’t, Claire,” he said and pushed her away from him.
Surprised, she tried to move toward him. He held her at arm’s length, forcing himself out of the cloud of desire tormenting him. He wished Sofia would wake up and intrude. Her presence would bolster his weak will.
“Love,” Claire said, “for old time’s sake, please.”
“Not this time, Claire,” he said with resolution. “Things have changed.”
***
Sofia. The voice awoke her from her deep slumber. Moonlight slid in through the crack between the curtains. The voices were not happy, and she was surprised to hear one of them. It was a woman’s.
“…and I’ve told you no,” Damian said. “It ain’t happening, sister.”
“Why not? We’re so good together.”
She peeked through the crack in the door to see the voice of the speaker.
Claire. Darian’s whisper was tortured. He was silent, as if watching. Sofia rubbed her temples but didn’t move, grateful he wasn’t hurting her head for once.
The woman was beautiful, tall and shapely with auburn hair and deep blue eyes that made no attempt to hide her interest in the bare-chested man before her. Damian’s hair was mussed, his arms crossed.
“How long were we a pair?” the woman continued, tracing a finger lazily down his bicep. “Centuries, no?”
Her accent was exotic and complemented her sexy, sultry voice. Damian crossed to the window.
“Claire, no,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were rotating here, or I’d have blocked it.”
“My love, we’ve been destined for each other since I wed your brother thousands of years ago. We had eyes only for each other then.”
“And I learned the hard way. What we had is gone. Long gone.”
“We don’t need love. I know you want me,” Claire said.
At his hesitation and the heated, lustful look he gave her, Sofia’s mouth dropped open. He shook his head despite the desire on his face.
“Come, love. We will fight and fuck together. What else is there?” Claire urged. She had a damn good point, Sofia admitted, and hated her for it. Damian’s gaze turned to the door to the bedroom, and she ducked back, remembering he could hear her thoughts.
If he made a choice, she wanted it to be the choice he’d make whether or not she was there.
“Not possible,” he said.
She didn’t know if it was meant for her or the woman sidling up to him. Or both.
“Why not?” Claire purred.
Sofia peeked out. The woman was all over him! Her boobs were pressed against Damian’s bare chest, and her hands were on his biceps. Sofia knew she had no right to claim him, especially when she just rejected him less than an hour before. Fuming anyway, she pushed the curtains away from the balcony door and stepped into the night, winter’s chill taking some of the heat out of her.
“Stupid men. Always want women with huge boobs and nothing between their ears. Let’s screw, Damian. We’re good at it, so why not?”
What in God’s name was wrong with her? Her balcony was several feet from the edge of his. She looked to the bushes several floors down and decided it was worth the risk. Not wanting to be around to hear Claire get her way, Sofia climbed onto the edge of Damian’s balcony and stretched upward toward the ledge running around the mansion. She yelped as someone grabbed her hips and pulled her from the edge of the balcony.
“What the hell are you doing?” Damian demanded, lowering her to the ground and spinning her to face him. “Are you jumping to your balcony?”
She glared at him in response.
“There’s a door. Use it,” he snapped.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your reunion.”
His eyes narrowed. His body was warm against hers, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him.
“God, I’m so stupid!” she growled.
“You’re jealous?” A smile flickered across his face and turned into a laugh. He hugged her against him.
“No, of course not!” she snapped, pushing at him.
“Woman, you’re something else!”
“Damn you, Damian!”
“You’re more welcome in my bed than she is!”
A thrill went through her. Embarrassed at the emotions bubbling within her, she pulled away and folded her arms across her chest, marching into the living room. Claire apparently had left.
“It’s okay, Damian, really. You can do whatever with Claire. Just put a sock on the doorknob or something so I don’t bother you.”
“You are very magnanimous to give me permission to do whatever the fuck I want in my own house,” he said, borderline pissy once more.
“You’re such an ass, Damian!”
“And you’re fucking naïve.”
Her face flamed red. She marched to the doorway.
“Sofi, wait,” Damian called. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not interested in Claire. I’m interested—”
She ignored him and slammed the door behind her, returning to her room, angry and agitated. A breeze made her curtains flutter, and she closed it, certain Claire’s cries of ecstasy would soon fill the air around the mansion.
Her thoughts returned to the dead man alone in the dark room. She shook out the sexual energy running through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more. Like the night before, he wasn’t going to let her sleep. She read, paced, and finally just lay down to stare at the ceiling until morning came. The sounds of sparring in the courtyard drew no interest this morning. She waited until they stopped and the full light of day streamed into her room before heading to the kitchen.
A short time later, she sagged against the toilet, ignoring Pierre as he tsked and held her hair. She’d seen Claire in the kitchen and hallway, eating Pop-Tarts, eating chocolate, eating broccoli. So once more, Sofia had tried to eat.
She groaned and held her stomach. Claire could eat! There was no crueler fate in this world than her own!
“Have you tried crackers?” Pierre asked. “Or maybe antidepressants?”
She glared at him.
“We’ve eliminated every other type of food, and the drugs might help you accept that you cannot eat.”
“Bonjour, Pierre.”
At Clair’s soft voice, Sofia wanted to throw up again.
“What’s this?” Claire asked, pausing in the door frame of the bathroom. “Hello, love. I’ve seen you around a lot the past couple of days. Are you one of the help?”
One of the help?! Sofia bit back a retort and forced herself to her feet. The pain in her stomach was almost crippling. She motioned for Pierre to close the door so she could clean up. When she opened it, Claire gazed at her with a look both guarded and surprised.
“How … interesting,” she said with a forced smile, looking at her in reproof. “My, how things change.”
She sashayed away. Sofia looked down at herself. She looked decent in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She wasn’t dressed in skin-tight workout clothes like Claire, who joined Damian as he trotted down the stairs for their daily sparring session. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as smokin’ hot as Claire either. Claire greeted him with a kiss on his cheek and a look so smoldering it made Sofia blush. Damian glanced at the redhead and touched her arm in affectionate greeting.
Sofia drank another glass of water and forced her attention to her list. She had checked off three of the seven exercises she’d learned from the books she read. She was so fatigued, she hurt everywhere.
“Pierre, I’m going to lie down. I’ve lost my will to live today.”
“Very well, ikira,” he said with his usual stoicism. “If you decide to live, let me know.”
“I will.”
He followed the group to the courtyard to spar. Nearly doubled over in pain, Sofia returned to her room. She clutched her stomach as pain pierced her concentration. Darian was crying, and her head hurt.
“Pierre recommended I see you. You are so damn stubborn,” Damian snapped, pushing her door open. “What’s the purpose of starving yourself? Jealousy?”
He closed the door and moved the laptop Pierre had brought her to supplement her Oracle research. He sat on the bed beside her and pushed her onto her back. She strained, but he planted one heavy hand on her chest.
“I’m not sleeping with her, Sofia,” he said and sliced his wrist.
The scent of his blood overwhelmed any objection she could make, and she snatched his arm. She drank heavily and opened her eyes, surprised to see his eyes open and the gold swirling within them. The tick in his jaw belied how tightly his teeth were clamped.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“And?”
“And what?”
“I said I’m not sleeping with her,” he repeated.
“Good for you.”
“Stubborn, infuriating woman.”
“I’m not jealous.” She gazed at him, completely aroused and angry at the same time.
“Bullshit,” he replied.
She rolled onto her stomach away from him, blood flying with desire and heat.
“Gods, woman. In a different time,” he muttered then swore. “When the common sense fairy smacks you upside the head, you know where to find me.”
He left, as pissed as she was. She sighed. It was getting harder and harder to deny what she felt toward him. In the long silence that followed, she heard Darian’s sobs. She held her head in her hands, tormented by his pain without understanding how she was supposed to help a dead man.
“Please stop,” she whispered, wondering if Oracles could go crazy, too.
Unable to be alone with the man in her head, she went to her library. Pierre returned a couple of hours later as she checked off the fourth box on her list of Oracle self-training. He smelled of soap, and his hair was wet.
“You know, the French are the kings and queens of love,” he said and sat in his chair by the door. “I can help you.”
“That’s the last thing I need.”
“You would be more pleasant if you fucked him every once in awhile.”
“Wow, Pierre, that’s the most inappropriate thing I’ve ever heard,” she retorted.
“Forgive me, ikira.” By his tone, he didn’t give a damn what she thought. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We Europeans enjoy a more liberal form of commitment than you Americans.”
“You sleep around,” she surmised. “I don’t think all of Europe does that. Just you maybe.”
“Yes, and it’s very relaxing.”
“I don’t want to sleep with a bunch of men.”
“You wouldn’t be permitted that freedom, ikira,” he almost scoffed. “But you have one man you can sleep around with.”
“He wants Claire and probably has a private brothel in town. Pierre, I’m some sort of resurrected monster killed by a psychopath. I can’t even eat real food,” she said bitterly. “The last thing I need is to complicate things more.”
“It’s not that bad. Claire?” he tsked. “I would not sleep with her. Damaged goods.”
“Pierre, you can sleep with whomever you want, really.”
“I know. Why do you not ask him?”
“To sleep with me?” she asked.
“Oui.”
Because he would agree. She mulled his proposition and forced her thoughts away from it and her gaze to the paper again.
5. Test ability to control skill on new target. There was one person she wanted to know more about.
“Do you know where Claire is?” she asked.
“Oui.”
“Let’s go.”
He led her from the library, across the courtyard, and into the far wing of the mansion she’d not yet explored. It was a barracks for the Guardians, most of whom greeted her with a quiet good day, ikira as she passed. The wing housed an indoor basketball court, indoor pool, a small game room, and a huge theatre room where music blared from some action movie. Claire sat beside another Guardian, watching the movie. Sofia didn’t have time to plot how to approach her.
“Claire,” Pierre said, stooping to kiss her cheek.
“Bonjour, mon amour,” she purred in response.
“Ikira wanted to meet you.”
Claire rose, the smile freezing on her face as she faced Sofia. Sofia forced her own smile, noticing how Claire’s gaze swept over her as if she were an uninvited insect in her bedroom.
Claire, Darian said again.
I know, Darian! she replied, hoping the man in her head didn’t distract her.
“Hello, Claire,” she said, extending a hand. “We haven’t formally met. I’m …” Claire shook her hand, and the visions that protruded into her thoughts floored her.
Czerno.
“… I’m Sofia,” she choked out. “I wanted to welcome you.”
“Enchanté, Sofia. It’s my pleasure,” Claire said. “Pierre will defend you well. Damian couldn’t have chosen a better guard.”
“Babysitter,” Pierre corrected her.
“Exactly,” Sofia agreed. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“If you must be with a man, it’s good that he’s French,” Claire said with a wink at Pierre. “Please excuse me.”
Sofia stepped out of her way, trying hard to digest what she’d seen.
Claire and Czerno in bed together.
“Sofi!” Damian’s call pulled her from the vision replaying in her head. “C’mon!”
He waved her out of the theatre and led her toward the mansion. She sensed his excitement and trailed, troubled.
“Heya, Dust-man!”
Three men stood in the main foyer, two in the same shade of brown as her bodyguard and a striking man in designer jeans and an expensive sweater. He shook hands with Damian, a small smile on his chiseled features. Dustin was lean and handsome with clear, cool blue eyes and sharp, angular features. His hair was sandy blond, his skin golden. His noble features and cold, aloof air gave her the impression of an ancient Greek prince.
“Good to see you!” Damian said with warmth she hadn’t seen him display toward anyone else.
“Better circumstances this time around,” Dustin said with a glance at her.
“Hold the salt, Dust-man,” Damian warned. “Sofia, this is Dusty, the commander of the western hemisphere. He helped me rescue you from Czerno.”
Her face felt warm at the look both gave her.
“It’s a pleasure, ikira,” Dustin said and held out his hand to her, palm up.
She looked at it curiously, then at Damian.
“You haven’t taught her shit, have you?” Dustin asked Damian.
“Not the traditional greeting.”
“Ikira, in our time, an Oracle greeted all visitors to the king’s palace to assess their loyalties to her king. Visitors held out their hands like this,” Dusty said, indicating his outstretched hand. “It’s a sign of the ultimate respect. The visitor is giving you an open invitation to his soul. You have the option to touch me or not.”
She braced herself and placed her palm against his. His memories were much like Damian’s: fuzzy home videos with no sense of his future. She removed her hand. Dustin assessed her in silence for a few seconds, and she had the feeling his sharp gaze missed nothing.
“You’re better off than when I saw you last,” he said at last and turned to Damian. “You got time to talk, D?”
“Yep. Before we do, I need to discuss something with both of you. Come.” He motioned them both down the hall and into his private study. “Pierre, stay.”
Pierre obeyed and closed the doors behind him.
“How’s Florida?” Damian asked, crossing to his desk.
“Good. Looking forward to Christmas,” Dustin replied.
“Don’t expect anything from Jule. He’ll never remember Christmas. I already ordered your present.”
“That’s why I like you better.”
“Dusty likes presents,” Damian explained, glancing at Sofia.
“Good presents,” Dustin clarified. “None of that shit you gave me last year.”
“You don’t get to pick. A present’s a present.”
Sofia sat in one of the plush chairs, legs pulled to her chest, and watched their brotherly exchange. Dustin didn’t look like the kind of man who would like anything, let alone presents. She glanced toward the door, mind on what she’d learned earlier.
Claire. Darian wasn’t crying for once, and his voice almost too hushed to make out.
Damian dropped an envelope on the table in front of her.
“There are traitors on the council,” Damian started. “Our European front has been growing progressively weaker the past hundred years. They know what they shouldn’t about our capabilities and our weaknesses. Jule’s going crazy trying to keep up.”
He pulled photos from the envelope as he spoke. Dustin began sorting through them. She didn’t want to look, sensing she’d met a source of their issues already.
“Sofia, Han tells me you’ve gotten quite good at reading people,” he said. “The quarterly council meeting is tonight. You’ll get to meet all my council members.”
Dread trickled through her.
“You can tell me who the traitors are.”
“Is this what Oracles do?” she forced herself to ask.
“Oracles do many things, but this is one of them,” Dustin responded. “It’s unfortunate you don’t have a mentor to show you more about your talents. The ability for you to determine a traitor from a loyalist is one of your most valuable talents. It’s also what makes people hate Oracles.”
“People hate Oracles?” she repeated, distraught.
“Let me rephrase—people fear Oracles. It’s a good thing. The more people fear you, the less they’ll fuck with you,” Dustin said.
She rested her chin on her knees, gazing at Damian.
“You’ll identify the traitors,” Damian continued.
“Then we take them out back and—” Dustin ran his finger across his throat.
“You kill them?” she whispered, horrified. She gripped her throat with one hand.
“Bad people,” Damian said. “People who would kill you. People like Czerno. Dusty takes care of these kinds of people.”
“Yep,” Dustin agreed.
She shuddered as the distant sensation of burning returned. If any man deserved death, it was Czerno. But did any man deserve death? And if she told Damian who to kill, did that make her worse than them? Her eyes slid to Dustin as she tried to reconcile the executioner with the man who liked presents. She met Damian’s gaze.
“Ours is not a pretty world, kiri,” he said firmly. “This is what you are.”
It wasn’t the reassurance she hoped for.
Stop Claire, Darian all but demanded. Trust Damian.
The dead man was getting annoying. The plan to identify traitors made sense, as ugly as it was. Who better to weed out traitors than the one who could see them for what they were?
“I wanted to see if you’re to the point where you don’t need human touch,” Damian said, gesturing to the pictures.
She shook her head. She leapt up and closed the door behind her, turmoil in her breast. She didn’t belong in the human world anymore, and yet, she couldn’t just dump it. Her thoughts darkened and returned to Cody and Jake.
No, she could never become as cold and accepting of death as the men around her, even if they were at war with a monster like Czerno.
But it’s my fate.
***
Damian’s gaze lingered on the door after the Oracle fled. Something more than Dusty killing bad guys was upsetting her.
“Wasn’t expecting that. Wanna visit the sector?” he asked, turning his attention to Dusty. “I’ll show you what Rainy’s guys found.”
“Yeah.”
He held out his hand, and Dusty clasped his wrist, allowing Damian to Travel them both to Tucson Sector HQ. They appeared in the quiet living room, turning at the startled gasp. Rainy’s Natural, a beautiful woman with mocha skin and blue eyes, leapt up from her seat.
“No worries, Traci,” Damian said, seeing her panicked look. She’d been there for about two months, not yet enough time to acclimate to the Guardians.
“Rainy around?” Dusty asked.
Traci’s eyes were on Damian. A human’s reaction to him never ceased to intrigue him. It was irritating most of the time, like now when he wanted to get a quick response out of one.
“Traci,” Dusty said more sharply. She looked to him and blinked.
“He’s sleeping,” she said at last.
“You wanna wake him up or you want us to?” Damian asked in amusement. She hesitated only a moment longer before bolting and disappearing up a set of stairs.
“Can’t take you anywhere, D,” Dusty complained.
“Like you’re normal,” he replied.
“Who decorated this place?” Dusty groused, taking in the lopsided posters of cars and beer bottle décor.
“You’re such a woman, Dusty,” Damian said with a chuckle.
“Speaking of women …” his friend said, pinning him with a look. “What’s up with your Oracle? She didn’t seem happy today.”
“Damned if I know. She walked in on me and Claire last night.”
“I bet that went well,” Dusty said dryly.
“Nothing happened, and they’re both pissed at me. You didn’t tell me Claire was coming this way, Dusty.”
“D, I didn’t know. You can blame Jule for that one. Is Sofia doing any oracl-ing yet?”
“She’s learning. Han says she’s progressing pretty quickly, though since none of us know how to train her, it’s hard to tell. She’s trying,” Damian said. “We’ll find out what she can do when our guests arrive.”
“Ikir, boss,” Rainy greeted them as he trotted down the stairs, dressed in jeans and nothing else. “You scared the shit outta Traci.”
Damian caught his eye and looked pointedly at Dusty, silently asking if the Guardian had done as he asked and told his boss that the Natural was more than a new recruit. Rainy smiled faintly with a nod.
“What’d you find?” Dusty asked, oblivious to the exchange.
“Traci found several of the vamps’ stash houses here in Tucson,” Rainy said, motioning them to follow him into a small, dark study humming with electronics.
He sat down in front of a computer and pulled up a satellite image with the stash houses marked.
“This is what’s interesting,” he said, pointing to a trail leading from a stash house on the northeastern side of the city and dead ending in the desert. “She can’t pick up anything past this point.”
He drew a box around a large area.
“Only you and Czerno can put up one of those types of shields,” Dusty muttered to Damian.
“And it’s not mine,” Damian responded. “Any cell phone intercepts on why he’s in town?”
“The local intelligence collection team is having a problem tracking his vamps. We think they’re using disposable cells. As soon as we get a number, it goes inoperable.”
“But we know he’s here,” Dusty said.
“Yeah, pretty sure. This area is ten square miles, though. Unless we know where to look, we won’t find where his base is.”
“It can’t be a coincidence he’s here, a few miles from you,” Dusty said, turning to Damian.
Damian nodded. He suspected Czerno’s Watcher allies tipped him off.
“The vamps we’ve captured for interrogation have a new technique. They’ve been killing themselves with cyanide pills,” Rainy added.
“What happened in Europe is happening here,” Damian said, meeting Dusty’s gaze. “Antoine probably wasn’t the main threat in Europe.”
Dusty studied him, an odd look crossing his face. Damian waited expectantly, but Dusty shook his head.
“It’s probably nothing,” Dusty said. “I’ll check the records to see which Guardians rotated here from Europe from the past year.”
“After the Quarterly, we’ll pack up and clean up,” Damian said. “Hopefully, Sofi can tell us who’s on Czerno’s payroll.”
“I hope so,” Dusty replied. “Rainy, can your Natural trace anything at all within the square?”
“Nope, though I’ve only let her past the barrier once. Not sure what traps Czerno might have set.”
Dusty gave Damian a cool look, and he heard the unspoken warning about women being the downfall of mankind. He smiled.
“Send the UAVs over the area,” Dusty said. “We’ll see what we can see.”
“Got it,” Rainy said, turning to face them. “I need more people, boss, or a Traveler at least.”
“I’ve got several incoming,” Dusty replied. “Damian, Travelers?”
“None have survived recruitment,” he said grimly. “We had three in the last class, more than we’ve seen in a few hundred years. All three were gunned down. Jule’s short, too. We can pull in a Natural from Latin America. He’s the closest.”
“Hector?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll contact his station chief,” Dusty said, pulling out his phone. “Whoever is taking out the recruits knows who to hit first.”
“They do indeed,” Damian agreed.
“Call me if you need a Traveler in the meantime, Rainy,” Dusty directed. “I’ll make myself available.”
“Thanks, boss,” Rainy said. “You have a new Natural, ikir?”
“I do,” Damian answered.
“If she’s flipping out, you can call Lon’s wife, Linda. Traci hasn’t adjusted yet, and Linda’s been a big help.”
“Linda’s the talker, right?” Dusty asked, glancing up from his phone.
“Yeah. Good girl,” Rainy said.
Damian had been considering how to help Sofia adjust. She seemed like a solitary person, but he wondered if she’d benefit from meeting the Natural women in the organization. She’d been stuck in the mansion since he’d found her, mainly because he wasn’t about to let a fucking Oracle—the first in a few hundred thousand years!—out of the safest place he could put her. His gaze returned to the screen as he deliberated over how close Czerno was and shelved the thought of letting her out of his sight.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said.
“Jasmine’s pissed, but Hector will be in this weekend,” Dusty said.
“Awesome, boss.”
“Dust-man, we’ve got a Quarterly to prep for,” Damian said.
“Let’s go,” Dusty agreed. “Rainy, thanks. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Roger, boss.”
Damian’s attention lingered on the image on Rainy’s screen. He couldn’t help the sense of unease sliding through him. He didn’t like the new level of battle Czerno was fighting. The playing field was as uneven as the Watcher had warned, and it appeared as though Czerno’s Watchers weren’t as dedicated to non-interference as his Watcher was.
At least he’d know who the traitors were by the end of the night.