War of Gods Box Set

by Ford, Lizzy

  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.