Sonoran Desert, Arizona
The Black God’s southwest base camp
“What the fuck are you doing here?” the vamp demanded.
Two dropped his arms to his side.
“Water,” he said.
“Slaves don’t drink the master’s water.”
Two felt the stinging blow at the back of his head and wobbled, dropping to his knees. One of his master’s men—the one with the red eyes—shoved him away and took his canteen, dumping its contents.
“Get the fuck outta here!”
He threw the canteen and it hit Two’s cheek. Two took his canteen and rose. He moved mechanically out of the single large kitchen in the underground lair. He went back to his small room and sat on the bed staring at the white wall in front of him.
“Two, what’re you doing?” another voice, this one softer, asked.
He didn’t remember when this man had arrived or why he was supposed to remember him. But he knew he must remember him as he did his master. He concluded he was his master’s friend, or he wouldn’t be here. His master’s friend, the man with eyes as green as the moss in the corner of Two’s room, stood in his doorway.
“I’m thinking, master,” Two said.
“Thinking?”
His master’s friend was powerful. Two sensed it and cringed as he entered the room. His master’s friend had never hit him, but he scared Two.
“Slaves don’t think, Two,” his master’s friend said. “What are you thinking?”
“I see a woman in my head,” Two said.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know her.”
“What does she look like?”
Kiri. He didn’t know where the word came from or what it meant. It sounded pretty, like the poof the desert dust made when the first drops of rain fell. The last time he went to the surface, it had rained huge raindrops. Then a rainbow had come out, and he’d stared at it until his master beat him.
“Slave, what does she look like?” There was an impatient note in his master’s friend’s voice that scared him.
“Who, master?” Two asked.
“The woman.”
“What woman?”
“The woman in your head,” the master’s friend said.
Kiri. A strange voice in his head spoke the word again, and he saw the woman with blue and silver eyes. She was crying, because his master was going to hurt her.
Don’t cry, kiri, he thought.
“Did you remember to do as I told you? Did you stop drinking the juice your master gave you?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
He looked up, surprised to see his master’s friend in his doorway, the man with eyes the color of the moss in the corner of his room. He rose in respect.
“Yes, master.”
“Good boy. You must do as I tell you,” his master’s friend said. “It’s very important you don’t drink that juice ever again. Don’t forget.”
“Yes, master.”
“Come. Your master calls for you.”
Two obeyed. He followed the man with eyes as green as the moss in the corner of his room down the busy hallways, unaffected by the men who spit on him or shoved him as he went. Slaves were treated this way. The man with mossy eyes turned down a corner and vanished from his sight and thoughts. Two continued to the master’s command center, where his master was planning a battle. As usual, Two took up his place in the corner to await his master’s orders.
He’d had a dream last night, something he never remembered in the morning, except for this time. He thought hard. There were many people in his dream, and he thought he should remember them. He heard the strange voice again.
Kiri. The woman with the blue and silver eyes came from his dream! She was talking to him. He didn’t know what she said, but she was holding out a hand to him, crying. Uneasiness swept over him. He didn’t want her to cry.
Don’t cry, kiri.
But she kept crying.
“Two, coffee,” his master said.
Two obeyed and left the room filled with lights and computers. The man with green eyes was waiting for him in the hall and touched his arm. Two cringed. He saw the woman come into focus, and the man with mossy eyes released him.
He went to the kitchen. The woman stayed with him. Two wondered if she’d ever come out of his head, or if she had to stay there, like he stayed in his master’s corner. If she stayed in his head, his master wouldn’t beat her like he did him.
***
Stay there, kiri. I’ll take care of you.
“Are you hungry?”
Sofia jerked from her place beside her window, not sure which voice came from her head and which from the handsome man before her. She’d watched the arriving guests with a mixture of fascination and dread. They wore tuxedos and ball gowns like wealthy celebrities attending an exclusive Hollywood party. Beautiful women that rivaled Claire and men so handsome, even age couldn’t diminish their muscular bodies or riveting looks.
“You’re not dressed,” Damian said. He wore a white shirt and snug tuxedo pants that outlined long, thick thighs and a tight ass. His body drew her, and his scent surrounded her when he knelt beside her.
She wanted to tell him about Claire, but she was afraid to. He cared for Claire, or at least, he was attracted to her, and she didn’t know if there was more than what she knew about them.
He held out his wrist, and she grudgingly took it, drinking from him while smelling the scents of the feast being prepared for his guests.
It’s not fair. The taste of him filled her, calmed her. She let her head drop back and sighed.
“You should get dressed, Sofia.”
He wiped the corner of her mouth, and she resisted the urge to nip his finger. His warm lips met hers, and she opened her eyes, surprised. He kissed her gently, a long, slow kiss. She savored the sensations of his hot, wet mouth and the buzz she got feeding from him.
“Come, meet your people.”
She watched him retreat, desire burning within her. Pierre had brought in a dress box and shoe box earlier. She flipped on the light and opened the dress box. Inside was the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen in a mysterious shade of dark blue sprinkled with silver sequins. The dress was thick silk and moved like water as she pulled it free and held it against her.
It must have cost a fortune!
She picked up the box to toss it on the chair when something slid out. She opened the slender jewelry box and gasped. Inside sparkled a diamond choker with an unusually worn, plain charm of a half-sun, half-moon pierced by an arrow. Diamond earrings completed the set.
If the dress didn’t break him, the jewelry did! Sofia lifted the choker carefully, touching the charm.
“What are you, little friend?” she murmured. It must have been significant to be surrounded by so many diamonds! She marveled over the clothing and jewelry before changing. She pulled her hair into a simple French twist, the kind she wore to work, and applied her make-up carefully.
Her irises were half silver. Sofia gazed at her two-toned eyes. They sparkled like the blue dress and diamonds. She looked herself over, satisfied that she looked good. Not Claire-good, but good enough.
“His colors and his symbol.” Pierre greeted her with an approving smile that buoyed her.
“Is that what this is?” she asked, fingering the charm.
“It’s old, maybe as old as him. His family’s coat of arms, if they had those then. Very special. Even he does not wear it,” Pierre said and motioned her to follow him towards the party below.
She trailed him down the stairs, eyes on the guests milling in the courtyard beyond the opened double doors. Damian and Dustin appeared deep in discussion as she approached. Both wore tuxedos with matching blue cummerbunds, which amused her for such starkly different men. Claire, stunning in maroon and bedecked with diamonds and rubies, looked her over dismissively before returning her gaze to the men.
“Ikira,” Dustin said, breaking away. His blue gaze swept over her. “You look lovely.”
She eyed him and then looked to Damian, who stared at her with an intensity she’d last seen aimed at Claire.
I am so hot. Sofia almost laughed at herself. She lowered her gaze at the heated look from the man who drove her crazy every other minute of her day. She cleared her throat and focused on Dustin.
“You guys match,” she observed.
“Only because of my efforts,” Dustin said with an edge that warned her not to laugh.
He’s sensitive about that shit, like a woman, Damian whispered into her mind. She coughed to cover her startled laugh. Dustin looked at her then tossed a look over his shoulder at Damian before directing her away.
“Dick,” Dustin said under his breath. “Come, ikira. The guests must be greeted.”
“Is it really necessary?” she asked. Her cheer faded. He motioned her toward the entrance to the courtyard.
“It is.”
She felt Damian’s gaze on her as they walked away. She wanted to warn him about Claire… Later. After this latest ordeal.
She stood beside Dustin on one side of the entrance while Damian and Claire assumed the other. Claire was all over him, in his space, rubbing her breasts against him. Sofia watched, astonished at the blatant display, and almost didn’t prep herself for her first encounter.
The first man was in his prime, and his eyes crinkled in a genuine smile when he clasped hands with Dustin. They exchanged a greeting in a foreign language that sounded like Russian before he held out his hand to her. His eyes went to the symbol at her neck, and one eyebrow shot up. His name … Sasha.
She saw killing in his future, but only in defense of his family. She released her breath and prepared herself for the next, relieved the encounter wasn’t as bad as she expected.
She had greeted ten men and two women before she felt the first flash of cold. The man before her was middle-aged and handsome, but she saw his dealings with Czerno’s men. He sold out Damian’s men—his own men—for money. Antoine.
The second traitor came soon after, a man whose past stunned her. She held his hand longer than she should. The man looked no older than Damian and was indeed from the same era.
He and Claire sold out Damian’s brother to Czerno. Isac.
If Damian knew the woman trying to crawl back into his bed had helped murder his brother, her husband… She couldn’t see him over the crowd. Her throat tightened in unshed tears of sorrow and anger.
Damian’s world was brutal. Her world was brutal.
“Be strong, kiri,” Dustin said without looking at her.
She swallowed hard and held out her hand to another woman in red. The last man in line was the final traitor, a man who’d helped Jilian torture his wife then claimed Czerno’s men had done it. Haydaen.
She all but snatched her hand away, overwhelmed at the images in her head. Dustin escorted the man into the mansion, and Pierre wrapped an arm around her as she sagged.
Pierre unloading his shotgun on the man in executioner’s garb from Czerno’s. It was dark, cold, and the shots hit the man with lopsided shoulders, dropping him dead to the ground. An explosion blazed in the distance. A woman was screaming, another man shouting.
“So much death,” she whispered. She pushed herself away and leaned against a wall. Dustin returned for her. She wiped tears from her eyes.
“I’m sorry, kiri,” he said with rare warmth. “Remember, we want them to fear you. Don’t let them see you cry.”
She steeled herself and nodded. She didn’t want to disappoint him or Damian and couldn’t help but dread the conversation to come. She tried to think of how she could soften the pain she’d bring him.
Dustin escorted her into the boisterous banquet room, and her spirits fell further. She was seated at the end of the table opposite Damian while Claire claimed the spot to his left. The seat of honor was given to Sasha. Dustin sat beside her. From what little she knew about etiquette, she was occupying the seat of the lady of the house. A few of the guests cast curious looks her way, and everyone who looked at her seemed more interested in the plain charm at her chest than in meeting her gaze.
Caterers served up food she’d kill to eat. Sofia watched the plates swap out before her as those around her gorged themselves on gourmet dishes she’d only seen on TV. As each course came and went, she felt another piece of her die.
What’s done can’t be undone.
She stared at the embroidered tablecloth, tormented by the scent of food she couldn’t eat and the visions of death and betrayal that left an acrid taste in her mouth. No one spoke to her. She wasn’t human. She wasn’t one of them. A freak among freaks. Would she spend eternity like this, doomed to knowing only the dark secrets of those around her? If Dustin’s words were true, she’d never be welcomed into the home of any of Damian’s people, not if they feared the sight of her! Once she told Damian about the woman whose hand rested intimately on his arm, who he smiled at with genuine affection …
If not for the dead man in her head, she’d be alone.
She fled the banquet hall for the library. Pierre trailed, balancing a plate of food. She stood before the window, feeling very much like a prisoner in her new world. She wondered if the dead man in her head, Darian, felt this way when he cried. She heard Dustin order Pierre out before he approached her.
“Sofia, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth,” Dustin said in a soft, firm voice.
She hugged herself, waiting.
“Claire …?” His unfinished question lingered in the silence between them.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He tensed. She looked up at him, sensing both his anger and his regret. His blue eyes were colder than the sky on a winter morning in Virginia. She resisted the urge to move away from him, chilled by the visions of his work as Damian’s executioner.
“I thought so,” he said at last. His face softened as he looked at her. “You have to tell him, sweetheart.”
“It’ll kill him.”
“He must know. You don’t carry this burden alone.”
She nodded, throat tight. With a squeeze of her arm, he left her.
“Sofi.” Damian’s voice jarred her from her thoughts.
She wiped her eyes before turning to face whatever new challenge Damian brought with him. He was accompanied by Dustin and two other men, one she knew as Sasha, a man who’d struck her with his devotedness to his family, and Levi, a man who’d been present in many of his pre-Schism memories.
Damian’s gaze swept over her. He was the lord and master again, his form and commanding presence filling up the room. His display of checked power disturbed her.
“Sasha, Levi, this is Ikira Sofia,” he said.
“An honor, ikira,” Sasha said with a bow.
“We’ve waited many years for you, ikira,” Levi said.
“Sasha and Levi are two of my most trusted advisors. Sasha manages the operations for Dusty out of Miami and Levi for Jule in Europe,” Damian explained.
“We’ve been through much together,” Levi added. “I owe D my life.”
“I’m honored to meet you both,” she said.
“Shall we review what you’ve learned?” Damian asked. His tone was genuinely questioning, and she felt grateful that he was giving her the choice to opt out. She met Dustin’s gaze, sensing he felt the same pain she did.
“I’m ready,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
They sat around the low table still scattered with pictures. Pierre remained at the door. She sifted through the pictures, aware of the intent attention the others paid her. She found Antoine and drew his picture out. She swallowed hard, uncomfortable with playing the role of judge and jury.
“Antoine,” she said. “He’s a spy for Czerno. Czerno pays him well for the locations of the safe houses in Europe and the names and locations of the Guardians.”
“That we knew,” Sasha said with a firm nod.
“Haydaen,” she said, drawing out another. “His wife’s death was by his own hand. He felt you suspected him and devised a plot with Czerno to torture …” Her voice caught at the images replaying through her mind. Damian reached across the table and touched her face, dismissing them. “… to torture and blame her death on Jilian. He sold out his family for money and land in Italy.”
No one spoke. She reached Isac’s picture and stopped, looking up at Damian.
“Damian …”
“Whatever it is, it’s okay,” he said.
“Isac. He killed your brother.” She struggled to control her emotions as the words came out. She didn’t think anyone heard her choked words. Silence followed. When she was brave enough, she looked up at Damian. He had leaned back in his seat, his face a frozen mask. She met Dustin’s penetrating gaze.
“And Claire,” she added.
“Claire what?” Damian growled in a voice that bordered on inhuman.
“She and Isac.” She couldn’t bring herself to say what they’d done. The words were too painful, and by the predatory stillness of the man across from her, she was terrified of what he’d do if she said it again. He rose, as if on autopilot, turned, and faced the window.
“I know you’re jealous, but this is disgusting,” he said in a low voice so sharp she jumped.
“I’d never do that to you,” she said, unable to stop the tears she’d been holding back since the start of the evening. “She’s sleeping with Czerno and feeding him the names of the new Guardians. She and Isac killed your brother. They plotted together during the hunting trip you and your brother took the day before he died. Claire lured him away from his Guardians to the warm springs by the—”
“Enough!” He faced her, eyes whirling madly. His accusation and fury were plain on his flushed face.
“Why do you think she came here? She wants to find a way to kill you, too!” She forced herself to continue.
“You jealous little bi—”
Before she knew what she did, she’d closed the distance between them and slapped him hard. Fury bubbled within her, breaking free.
“Tonight, I’ve given you the last shred of me that was human!” she shouted. “I just signed their death warrants, and you think I’d stoop so low as to point the gun at someone because I’m jealous? You think I’d sell my soul because of something so stupid? I’m doing this for you! This is what I am! But you know what, Damian? Fuck you. Fuck you!”
Hurt, she fled into the cold night air, stopping only when she reached the center of the gardens. Pierre trotted after her. She dropped to her knees and sobbed, unable to control her pain and fear.
***
Damian started after her, furious. Dusty caught his arm and motioned for those in the library to leave.
“You’re a dick. You know how hard it was for her to tell you that?” his closest friend snapped.
Damian glared at him, his restraint on his powers rippling. Long-buried rage was bubbling upward, along with the tiny instinct he’d squashed thousands of years ago.
“I can’t believe—”
“I believe her, Damian,” Dusty said in a calm voice. “Claire’s been on the European front for a hundred years. She just rotated to the southwest on orders that neither you nor Jule nor I issued, and the Tucson sites have fallen like flies. Because of her natural ability, she’s been intimately involved in screening new recruits. It’d be easy for her to flag the newbies for Czerno’s men.”
Dusty’s words floored him, and Damian couldn’t help but feel hurt that his best friend hadn’t told him of his suspicions sooner. He paced, mind racing with memories he could no longer suppress, thoughts of his brother, of Claire, of Darian’s death. Sofia’s words freed them from deep within his mind, and Dusty’s hammering at the facts made it impossible for him to silence them as he wanted to.
I don’t know if I trust my wife, brother.
Maybe Darian hadn’t been talking about infidelity but about something else. The memories came faster. Darian was chopped into so many pieces that there’d been no body to bury. Not providing his brother a proper burial—the burial of a king!—had sickened him. Almost as bad, how many others had died from the treachery of a single Guardian? How many Guardians had he lost this year alone? How many humans were dead because he lacked the strength to face his instincts?
He roared and slammed his hands on the desk at the far end of the library, unable to stop the images racing through his mind. Claire was all that remained of his brother, and he’d loved her out of respect for a man whose death he’d never been able to accept. Memories of how much Darian loved Claire, of his own nights in her bed, overwhelmed him. That she’d used him, killed Darian …
“Damian.” Dusty’s whisper brought him out of his mind, and he realized he was kneeling on the floor with his head bowed. “Brother.”
He knew Dusty was right, knew Sofia was right, knew he’d known since just after Darian’s death that there was something not right about Claire but was too desperate to hold onto the last piece of his brother to face the truth. He was reliving the pain of Darian’s death, sickened by his own cowardice. Darian had even tried to warn him, and he’d never wanted to see what was in front of him.
Forgive me, brother.
“I know, Dusty,” he admitted in a thick voice. “I think I’ve always known.”
“No, Damian, you couldn’t have known how twisted she was. No one could.”
“Even someone who reads minds?” he demanded with a bitter laugh.
“Did you ever read hers?”
“No. It was Darian’s rule—if you trust someone, don’t do it. She is … was the last of my family.”
If he had, how many thousands of lives would have been saved? How good was a Defender of Humanity who purposely looked away from something that led to so many deaths?
“Darian’s death is not your fault,” Dusty said in a hushed tone.
Damian closed his eyes. Dusty knelt beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.
“Trust me,” he whispered. “We’re in this together.”
The words were familiar, the same words he’d spoken to Dusty thousands of years ago, when he’d discovered the youth who was not yet a man on a slave trader’s block, bloodied and weeping for the family he’d just lost. He met Dusty’s pale blue eyes and saw his pain reflected in Dusty’s tight face.
“These Oracles are dangerous,” Dusty said with a faint smile. “I forgot that part about them.”
“Darian’s finally dead to me,” Damian said hoarsely. “Tonight, I lose him forever.”
“You’ve still got me and Jule,” Dusty reminded him. “And a terrified little Oracle who’s sobbing her eyes out right now.”
“I fucked that up.”
“She’s resilient to make it this far. She’ll be okay,” Dusty said. “As for the traitors, I’m offering up my skill set, if you need it.”
“You can have the others. I’ll deal with Claire.”
“Are you sure?” Dusty asked.
“I should have done this long ago, brother. No one else will die because of me.”
Dusty’s phone dinged, and he retrieved it. “Jule’s asking if you’re okay.”
“Tell him we identified his Europe issue,” Damian said and picked himself up, grateful for Dusty’s presence. ”Have the four rounded up. Let them sweat for a day, then do whatever you want with the three.”
“Interrogation? Execution?”
“Both.”
Dusty nodded and strode out. He’d not had to work too hard for confessions in the past thousand years, not after word of his cold, methodological skills leaked to the Guardians. Dusty was a one-man Internal Affairs department. The Guardians knew that betrayal would be confronted by Dusty, and even those loyal to Damian feared him appearing unexpectedly at their door.
Damian knew him well enough to know all the tales weren’t true. His reputation alone was enough to make most men weep when confronted. But this time, he suspected Dusty would live up to his legend.
As for Claire … pain spiraled through him. He waited in the library until he’d composed himself and left for his suite. He couldn’t stem the memories flooding his mind and felt the wound of Darian’s death reopen wider than it had originally been.
Pierre was in front of Sofia’s door. Damian stopped, guilty yet too raw to confront her. Pierre glanced up from his video game at his hesitation.
“She sleeps, ikir,” he supplied. “It's the best time to deal with her.”
Damian snorted. Pierre’s lip was completely insubordinate, and it was obvious he’d never worked for Dusty. Dusty was a stickler for formality from his men, while Jule’s hemisphere was far more relaxed. Damian didn’t care; Sofia liked Pierre, and he had a feeling Pierre’s blunt dose of reality was soothing to her in a world where nothing else made sense.
He entered her room, emitting enough of his power to hide him from her senses. Her curtains were open, as they had been every night since she transformed. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes puffy even in sleep. Her sleep was troubled. He sensed the visions in her head, not surprised to see his own black memories playing on the screens on the back of her eyelids along with a dark nightmare of a man in a corner crying. He wondered if the man was his soul, weeping for his brother.
He sat down heavily in the corner, watching her. He was ashamed of his last words to her. She’d struggled with Claire, wanting to spare him the pain he’d unleashed on her. Her eyes had been shadowed since he met her, her own struggle with her new world taking a visible toll on her. The videos running through her head were dark and disturbing, had been since she entered his world. They drove her away from him and the true purpose of his Guardians. She was alone and segregated, partly because she was new, and partly because an Oracle’s soul-reading job was brutal enough that most Oracles—including his mother—killed themselves soon after their full powers manifested within them.
He wanted her to see what he saw, the good his Guardians did for humanity, the courageous, selfless hearts of his men, the difference they made in fighting evil. It was a war his family had been fighting for millennia, one that wouldn’t end even with his death. He ached to show her how much she meant to him, to open her closed vision of him and his world and show her the beauty that made him fight as he did.
She saw nothing but death and the darkness in every soul she ran across.
Yet she tried to learn her new role with a selflessness that struck him now as incredible. Everything she did, she did for him, even if she feared him. Jule had always said he inspired men to follow him, though he saw nothing different in what he did than what his deputies did. He’d been as gentle with her as he’d known how, and still she suffered under the weight of the visions. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless to help the small form of the woman before him.
He rubbed his face, mind going to Dusty. Despite his reserve, he could tell Dusty liked her. He suspected it was because the same mettle lining Dusty’s backbone lined hers. They had similar cool reserve, unlike Damian and Jule, and had both survived ordeals that would cripple anyone else. He understood why she’d looked at Dusty before telling him about Claire. She’d found courage in a kindred soul.
He leaned forward. He’d hurt her tonight. He didn’t want to hurt her. Ever. Even with all his powers, his armies, his ability to read minds, he didn’t know how to make things right with her. True, they had eternity to figure each other out, but he didn’t want her turning cold like Dusty or jaded like Jule. He loved her fresh innocence, her selfless courage. He loved her hugs, though he’d never experienced hugs since he was a babe. He liked that she sought him out, not as the leader of the Guardians, not as the White God, not as the Defender of Mankind. She wanted him, the man behind the titles and the power.
He’d treated her like shit tonight, and he was at a loss as to how to prevent the tortured existence that became the fate of most Oracles.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He snatched it and Travel himself out of her room before he woke her. Jule’s text message brought him back to the unpleasant task ahead of him.
I’ll be in town in a day or two. Dusty told me everything.
Grimly, he returned grudgingly to his duties of entertaining his guests, feeling as if he needed to do something for his little Oracle.
***
“Sofia.”
She stirred from her trance at the voice, mind replaying scenes of Darian’s death. Darian had quieted as the scenes of his violent demise played through her dreams. He sat in the dark corner of her mind, still and silent.
“We must go, Sofia.” Pierre spoke from her doorway, framed against the light of the hall. The clock read 2:38.
“Right now?” she asked, confused.
“It’s important.”
The thought of Czerno loose somewhere in the house made her sit up quickly. She still wore the gown, though strands of hair blinded her and she knew her pillow would be filled with makeup. Pierre eyed her and crossed to her bathroom, tossing several items into her travel bag. She fixed her hair while sliding on her shoes.
“Is Czerno here?” she asked.
“Mon dieu non!”
“Then what’s the rush?”
He waved her out and led her at a quick pace to the front door.
“You look terrible,” he said, considering her.
“Rough night,” she muttered and snatched her makeup bag from him.
A town car with darkened windows awaited them. She spent the next half hour in the dim lighting of the car fixing her makeup with Pierre’s persistent pointers. They entered a large neighborhood and drove the same few blocks a few times before stopping in front of a large adobe hacienda walled off from its neighbors.
“Go inside. I’ll wait ’til you enter the gate. You’ll be safe,” he instructed her.
She hesitated then exited the car and shivered in the late night breeze. The town car left as she stepped inside the gate. She knocked on the door. When no one answered, she knocked again. It wrenched open, and a man in a black trench coat Damian’s size looked her over once.
“Not tonight. Get the fuck outta here.” And he slammed the door. Sofia took a step back and silently urged Pierre to hurry. Damian’s men were not the type she wanted to piss off.
“Why are you not inside, mademoiselle?” Pierre asked, agitated as he trotted through the gate. “It’s not safe out here.”
“You said it was.”
“Relatively speaking, it’s much safer inside.”
Sofia swallowed a retort. Pierre pounded on the door with the discretion of a jackhammer. The door opened, and a different, blond man looked them over before stepping back.
“Pierre,” her bodyguard introduced himself, clapping him on the arm.
“Everyone and their mothers are here tonight. You might as well come in,” was the surly response.
“What happened?”
“Rainy was supposed to protect a Natural he found. The vamps fucked her up real good tonight.”
“What’s her talent?” Pierre asked.
“Tracking.”
Sofia listened and trailed them through the house that resembled a frat house. The only décor consisted of international beer bottle displays and pictures of scantily clad women or cars. The living room was equipped with a massive flat screen television and worn furniture. They reached a second foyer where the man in the trench stood next to a caramel-colored man covered in blood.
“This is the Tucson Sector team,” Pierre said. “They’re the Guardians at the operational front of our war. Their job is to kill the vamps and any other of Czerno’s creatures while minimizing collateral damage.”
“You mean without killing anyone else,” she said, crossing her arms again.
“It’s one of our most sacred creeds: we do not kill humans. Sometimes we find Naturals, humans with the ability to track Czerno’s creatures or to heal our kind or some other natural talent.”
“Like me?”
“Sorta.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means you’re in a category all by yourself, but if it gets my point across, sure.”
“You’re an ass, Pierre.”
He moved away from her to meet the others. The tension of the stiff forms in the foyer was overwhelming. Without Pierre, she’d never set foot in such a dangerous situation.
“Rainy, Ving, Justin, this is Pierre,” the surly blond said.
The bloody man—Rainy— looked at her with pure hostility. The other two were too occupied by whatever happened to do more than glance at the newcomer. Ving—the man in the trench coat—looked at Sofia.
“What the fuck? Lon, did you let her in?” he asked.
“Yeah. She’s with him.”
The four stared at her. If she ran, they’d eat her, she was sure. So she stayed put and hugged herself more tightly. Pierre was at ease among his own kind.
“You a doctor?” Rainy demanded.
“Damian sent her,” Pierre answered.
Rainy hesitated before throwing open the door he guarded. Pierre motioned her forward, and she went, afraid of what she’d find. As she passed Rainy, she noticed the lines of worry in his face. His gaze was stormy, but there was more there, a profound sadness that made the large man more human.
She entered, and Rainy closed the door behind her. A bloodied woman lay on the bed, unconscious and breathing shallowly. A brunette woman worked to stabilize her, and Sofia froze in place.
She didn’t want to see more death.
“Can you give me a hand?” the woman called over her shoulder. “I need this hung high.”
She held up an IV bag. Sofia forced herself to walk over and take it. The woman looked up at her, surprised. She was in her mid-twenties, with crystal clear blue eyes and porcelain skin.
“I thought you were … never mind,” she said, scurrying around the bed. “It’s better you help anyway. The boys are clumsy.”
Sofia looked down at the beautiful woman on the bed before jerry-rigging the IV over a lamp to keep it elevated.
“Is she going to be okay?” she asked then realized how stupid her question was when she could see the future.
“I’m not sure.”
Sofia sat down on the bed, careful to keep the blood from her gown, and touched the woman’s face, bracing herself. What she saw amazed her, and her eyes watered, this time out of relief and happiness. Traci.
“She’s bleeding internally,” she said.
“Are you sure?” the woman asked.
“It’s her spleen. Can you fix that?”
The brunette paled before belting, “Rainy!”
The door flew open. Sofia stood as his hot gaze fell to her, sensing he wanted no stranger near the woman.
“We need to take her to the hospital, now,” the brunette told him.
He shot forward and gathered the woman in his arms while the second woman scrambled to grab the IVs.
“Where the fuck is Damian?” Rainy roared as he tore through the house.
Pierre motioned Sofia aside as the mad rush went through the house to the garage.
“I want to go, Pierre,” she said, following.
“Yes, please come,” the brunette urged. “I don’t know how you know this, but I stopped asking questions awhile ago. C’mon.”
The men piled into two Tahoes, and the woman led her to a small Honda. Pierre crammed himself into the backseat.
“I’m Linda,” the brunette said.
“Sofia.”
They were quiet the remainder of the trip while Sofia dwelled over what she’d seen in Traci’s future.
What was Damian doing? Why had he sent her, and where the hell was he? She knew he could heal people. Was he that busy?
She hung back as they entered the hospital and watched the emergency room personnel take Traci. Linda flashed her a strained smile that made her feel welcome for the first time in a week before the pretty brunette gave the blond man, Lon, a hug and kiss. He relaxed visibly with her in his arms.
They waited. Rainy paced, flung himself into a chair, paced again. She didn’t like seeing someone else suffer the way she did every time she thought of Cody or Jake or others dying. She approached him. His gaze raked over her.
“Rainy,” she said, clearing her throat. “Traci’s going to be okay.”
“How the fuck would you know?”
“I just do.”
“Who are you?” he demanded, approaching her so quickly she backpedaled. His jaw ticked, and his fists were clenched. She cringed away from him as her knees hit a chair. He was ready to snap, and she didn’t want to be the first one he took out when he did.
“Careful,” Pierre warned from nearby.
“Down, boy,” Ving said, taking his arm.
“The babies are okay, too,” Sofia added. They all froze, and a look of surprise crossed Rainy’s stormy features.
“The what?” he demanded.
She said nothing, realizing she’d told him something he didn’t know.
“Sofia found the internal bleeding. If I were you, I’d listen to her. Traci will be fine. Sit your ass down,” Linda said, planting her small form between them and physically pushing the man who towered over her.
To Sofia’s surprise, Rainy obeyed, though he sat across the room and stared at her. She curled up in a chair, afraid to move too quickly under the tense Guardian’s gaze. A doctor emerged soon after, hesitating as his gaze swept over the room full of massive, bristling men, until Linda came forward.
“Are you next of kin?” he asked.
“More or less,” she said with a smile.
“Come with me.”
“Sofia.” Linda waved her over. Rainy started to his feet as she rose, and she stopped.
“Dude, chill,” Lon said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Pierre drew nearer, and Linda waved her forward again. Sofia went, trailing them down a hall with antiseptic-laced air to an open bay with beds separated by curtains. Traci was alone at the far end of the bay.
“She’ll be all right. We had a scare there, but she pulled through. We’ve stopped the bleeding. She’ll have to remain here for a couple of days.”
“Thank God,” Linda breathed. “And … uh, her babies are okay?”
“She’s in the early stages of pregnancy, no more than eight weeks. We’ll be watching for signs of trauma. It’ll be another two weeks before I’ll feel comfortable imaging her uterus to see the fetus.”
Sofia listened as she approached Traci’s bed and gazed down at the unconscious woman. The woman was hooked to a ventilator and IVs, her battered face clean and pale. The doctor left, and Linda joined her.
“Czerno is a monster,” Sofia whispered.
“He is,” Linda said. “Lon—my husband—has had his own run-in with Czerno.”
“So have I,” she said. She felt Linda’s gaze.
“It’s why they do what they do, to protect humanity from that fate.”
At her curious look, Linda continued.
“Their war, it’s been going on for thousands of years. Damian is their leader. Lon says he’s not … normal, if you’d call any of them normal. I guess D is something less normal than my Lon. Anyway, the war between Czerno and D is for the fate of us puny humans,” Linda explained.
“Why would creatures like them bother?” Sofia asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad they do. I’ve only met Damian once, when he saved Lon’s life after Czerno chewed him up and spit him out. His men worship him. He’s helped all of them somehow, though he terrified me the time I did meet him.”
“He has that effect on people,” Sofia said dryly.
“Are you one of the Naturals, like Traci?”
“Not really.”
“Is she having boys?” Linda asked.
“Girls, two of them.”
“Rainy with two girls? No way! He’ll be inconsolable,” Linda said with a delighted laugh.
Sofia smiled and looked at the pretty woman beside her. There was a natural sense of cheerfulness to her that she liked.
“May I … could you shake my hand?” she asked lamely.
Linda’s brow furrowed, but she held out her hand. Sofia gripped it, the touch enough to reveal a future like Traci’s, filled with love and joy.
“Am I pregnant, too?” Linda teased. “That’s an awesome pregnancy test, by the way.”
“No, you’re not,” Sofia answered with a smile. “You will be soon.”
Linda grinned. “We better get Rainy in here before he tears down the hospital looking for her.”
“I’m not staying. He’s an inch away from wringing my neck,” Sofia said, following. Her stomach growled.
“You wanna get some food?”
Sofia bit her lip and crossed her arms, unable to admit she couldn’t really eat. “Sure.”
Linda sent Rainy to Traci and walked with her to the cafeteria. Pierre trailed them at a distance just out of earshot, and Linda looked at her curiously.
“He’s wearing the color of the bodyguards,” she observed. “You must be someone important.”
“Not really. I’m a lost sheep,” Sofia said.
“Strange. You seem to know what you’re doing.”
“I’m … new to Damian’s organization. One week new, to be exact. I don’t really know which way is up right now.”
“Wow, Sofia. First, welcome, and congrats! These are the finest men you’ll find anywhere,” Linda grinned.
“Thanks.”
“Second, who’s your sponsor?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, no one gets in without a reason. Someone brought you in,” Linda said wisely. They sat at a table near the windows.
“Why did they bring you in?” Sofia asked.
“Lon found me. I’m a Natural. I have the ability to levitate things.”
“Really? Like anything?”
“Yep.”
“So, if Lon said something stupid to you, you could toss him into the air and leave him there until he agreed to treat you with an ounce of respect. And if he didn’t, you could leave him there and do whatever the hell you wanted for the day?” Sofia asked with more emotion than she intended. Linda looked at her, and she cleared her throat, anger spiraling through her again.
“I guess I’d never thought of that,” Linda admitted, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “But yeah, I could do that.”
Sofia watched her take a bite of a muffin, at once longing and agitated. She was hungry. After her explosion at Damian, she’d have to beg for food. And she’d never demean herself to that man. She’d just have to starve to death.
“I do understand how frustrating this all seems when you first join,” Linda went on. “Well, you don’t really choose to join.”
“You’re telling me,” Sofia said with emotion. “One day I’m normal. The next, I can’t stand daylight and Damian is beating down my door.”
“Damian?” Linda’s amazement increased. “Damian’s your sponsor?”
She nodded.
“I totally have to tell Lon. Hold on a sec.” Linda whipped out a phone to text Lon. “You have no idea how special you are if D is your sponsor. Or how lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Yeah, sure. He’s dreamy, runs his own um, business, and he’s got, like, Superman powers. He’s like a modern-day king who’s in charge of the superheroes trying to beat down the evil villains.”
Sofia recalled how much her first meeting with him had scared her. His aura of power, his command and confidence, the sense that—whatever he was—he was something humankind wasn’t prepared to face.
“He’s just a good guy,” Linda continued. “He’s been after bad guys for thousands of years, and he’s never gone to the Dark Side or quit or anything. That says a lot for someone, you know? He’s good to his men. Lon and the others adore him. I like him, even if he scares me.”
This world is so fucked up I don’t know why I bother. His cranky words echoed in her thoughts, and she smiled to herself. No one but her saw the other side of Damian.
“They do so much to help people,” Linda said, looking down as her phone dinged. “Lon doesn’t believe me. Oh, well. Where is Damian?”
“I’m definitely not his keeper,” Sofia said with a shrug.
The sun peeked over the horizon, reminding her that she’d gotten only a few hours of bad sleep. Linda texted back and forth with her husband for a few minutes.
“Traci’s awake. I’ll be right back,” she said, hopping up.
Sofia gazed out the window, mulling over the night. She began to suspect Damian sent her there so she could meet the other women dragged into his organization. Or maybe he just wanted her out of the house so he could kill the traitors.
Oh, ye of little faith, he said into her mind.
“I hate that,” she answered.
I know.
“What do you want, Damian?”
I owe you an apology.
“Well, man up and do it in person.”
“A little testy today, aren’t we?”
She jumped, watching as he folded himself into the small chair across from her. His scent made her heart quicken and her drowsiness dissipate. Her breath caught as she gazed at him, and she looked for any sign he was still angry at her. His golden eyes were calm, his large frame relaxed with the feline grace that made her hormones wild. His power was checked but his unusual presence enough to draw the looks of those around them. Most moved away quickly, sensing there was something about him that just wasn’t normal.
His gaze was trained on her with an intensity that made her body warm from the inside out.
“Well?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Sofia, for being a dick.”
“Apology accepted,” she said and looked down. “I’m so sorry about Claire. I knew it would hurt you.”
“No worries.” His aloof response made her look up. His gaze was wary and moving, and he was guarded once more. Even after thousands of years he was reliving the pain of his brother’s death. If she closed her eyes, she’d see the home video of Darian’s funeral pile. Her heart went out to him. “I think I’d known for a long time and didn’t want to face it. I probably could have gone much longer ignoring her.”
“She would have killed you.”
“She would have tried.”
“You can risk your life, but I won’t,” Sofia retorted.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared.”
“I do care about you, Damian, even though you’re a total jackass,” she said.
“For the record, you’re the only person in history who could get away with half the shit you say,” he told her.
“I know.”
The warmth of his smile was not lost on her, and she thought about what Linda had said about him. Maybe the cheerful woman was right—maybe there was more to Damian than she gave him credit for.
“D.” It was Lon, whose gaze went to her as he approached.
“Morning, Lon,” Damian said and twisted to face the Guardian.
“Guess I lost that bet,” he muttered. “She’s okay and says thanks. The doc can’t figure out what happened. He should release her today.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Rainy would have come, but he won’t leave her side. Poor sap.”
“No worries. How’s Linda?” Damian asked.
“Good. Still won’t let me live down almost dying.” His gaze went to her and then back to Damian expectantly. Damian ignored his hint, and Lon didn’t press.
“Women are stubborn like that,” Damian said.
“See you at the next barbecue?” Lon asked, holding out his hand.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Damian said and stood to shake his hand.
“Linda says you can call her whenever you want,” Lon said, handing Sofia a tissue with a phone number and smiley face written on it.
“Thanks.” She watched him go then turned to her bodyguard. “Pierre, you want my croissant?”
“I do,” Damian said and snatched the pastry.
“It’s because I’m French, isn’t it? You assume we French all eat croissants,” Pierre complained.
“This is sooooo good,” Damian said, pinning her with a look as he wolfed down the second half.
“Just when I start to like you … you know, it’s amazing even a man who’s thousands of years old can act like a twelve-year-old. Pierre. Car. Now.” She glared at him. Furious, she stood and breezed past him, not surprised when he opted not to ride home with her.
She didn’t see Damian until afternoon, when he strolled into the library from sparring, ear to a cell phone. He was naked from the waist up and sweaty, a combination that made her sit up and pay attention.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said with a grimace and handed the phone to her before striding out.
“Hello?” she took the phone and asked curiously.
“Hi Sofia, this is Linda! How are you?”
“Good, thanks. Everything all right?”
“Oh yeah. I was telling D that Rainy went off the deep end when we told him about the girls!” She giggled. “Traci told him not to think about asking her to marry him just because she’s pregnant, and he said she had no choice and he’d drag the priest to her. He almost beat down her door. They’re in this horrible tiff right now.”
“Wow, I didn’t mean to start this,” Sofia said.
“The doc would have noticed she was pregnant, just not the twin part and the girls part.”
“Right. Totally not my fault then.”
Linda laughed. “Listen, I wanted to see if you wanted to go Christmas shopping with us this weekend. It’s one of the last weekends before Christmas. I’m way behind, and Traci—”
Since when did the concept of Christmas shopping seem so bizarre?
Since I became some sort of recently resurrected fortune-telling vampire. It was something normal people did during this time of year, something she’d done every year for twenty-three years.
“—count you in?” Linda asked.
Sofia covered the speaker. “Pierre, am I allowed to go Christmas shopping?”
“I hate this fucking library,” he responded.
“Is that a yes?”
“Oui.”
“Linda, I’ll go.”
“Great! We’ll pick you up. Are you at D’s?” Linda asked.
“Yeah.”
“Traci’s been there. She’ll drive. We’ll see you Saturday at nine.”
“Great, thanks.” Sofia hung up the phone, feeling as if she were emerging from a stupor for the first time in months. While she couldn’t shake the sense of doom that followed her from the visions, she felt more normal, less afraid, at the thought that she’d be rejoining the rest of humanity for a shopping trip with the girls, even if only for a morning.
She left the library to return Damian’s phone. It rang loudly in the hall, a rap song spitting F-bombs that made her eyebrows rise. She hesitated then answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello? Do I have D’s number?” a warm, male voice on the other end said.
“Yes.”
“And who are you?”
“Sofia. Who are you?”
There was a pause before the man on the other end answered. “Jule, a friend of his. I’m in town right now on an errand.”
“Are you a good friend?” she asked.
“I’d like to think so,” he said with a chuckle. “We met when he was a teen and went through some rough stuff together.”
“Yeah, I know. His is a sordid history. What kind of a person was he when you met?”
“He’s always been the best man I know,” was the unhesitant response. His voice held an upbeat note and natural warmth that she liked. He wasn’t like Dustin, who seemed more likely to kill a stranger than talk to one.
“If you all are on the side of good, why is there so much death?” she demanded.
“Trust me, there’d be more if the bad guys won. It’s not easy being the good guy, and it’s a job not many people can do. You have to stay true to your values while destroying something as well. It’s rough,” he said and gave a surprised laugh.
Damian trotted from the stairs toward the courtyard and paused, looking at her curiously.
“I’m having an issue reconciling the two,” she admitted.
“Who?” Damian mouthed. She waved him away.
“We’ve all gone through that stage. You have to look at it like this: would you want someone to help you if something bad happened?” Jule continued.
“Yes.”
“Exactly. But not everyone can do what we do, because we’re, well, different than normal people. We’re in a unique position to help people who can’t help themselves against bad guys who want to hurt them,” he said.
“I see. You have no regrets?” she asked, unconvinced.
“No way in hell, and neither does D. Because of us, many innocent people have been able to live their lives, and humanity thrives,” Jule said with conviction she envied.
Damian watched her, eyes narrowing.
“I see why he likes you,” she said quietly. “Thanks for talking to me. He’ll call you back.”
“Sofi—” Jule started to object.
She hung up and tossed Damian the phone.
“I’m going shopping Saturday,” she told him. “And Jule called. He’s in town.”
“That’s who you were talking to?” Damian demanded. She didn’t miss the way he bristled but turned her back to him to return to the library.
“Yep. He’s a good guy.”
Don’t answer my phone.
“Then stop doing that!”
No deal.
He drove her crazy, and she was hungry again. Always, always hungry. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life starving?
“Your drug dealer’s still in business. For now.”
“That’s not funny,” she said, turning to glare at him.
“No?” he asked, approaching her with a languid walk that stirred her blood.
He stopped in her personal zone, too close, but she wasn’t about to back down this time. She crossed her arms and looked up at him, meeting his steady look with a challenging one of her own.
“You’re getting braver, kiri,” he said in a husky tone.
She tried not to let it affect her but suspected by his look of satisfaction that he saw how quickly her face changed colors.
“If you’re half the man everyone tells me you are, you’ll send Han some flowers. He’s going to break his leg tomorrow.”
“At your service, Oracle.”
She ached to touch him but refused, hugging herself more tightly instead. Her nerve began to frazzle. She walked away.
“Sofia.” There was a serious note in his voice that made her stop. His gaze was on her chest. She fingered the necklace there.
“The diamonds were a bit overwhelming for daily wear,” she admitted. “I restrung it onto one of my chains.”
He said nothing, and she saw the look that crossed his face, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Is that okay?” she asked.
“Very.” He spun on his heel and left. She watched him go, admiring and puzzled.
“My dear Han, you were right about these damn moods,” she said in the empty hallway. He was worse than a woman PMSing.
You’re full of shit, he said into her thoughts.
She gritted her teeth, hating the fact he had open access to her thoughts and worse—he could respond to them!
“No,” Pierre said, blocking the library as she approached. “I’m not wasting any more of my time in there.”
“I have one more thing to do,” she said, holding up her list. “Why don’t you go spar? I promise not to leave.”
He gave her a look of supreme distaste before he, too, walked away.
What was it with these men and their moods? She shook her head and returned to the library. In truth, it was the one place in the house where she felt safe and comfortable when she wasn’t with Damian.