by Ford, Lizzy
He waved the words away. Sofi left him alone in the study, and he sat down at Damian’s computer to send the info the real estate agent needed to rent him the cabin. He’d set up shop there immediately, but he assumed he’d be there for at least two more weeks. Having some poor, unexpecting Realtor stumble upon him before his paperwork cleared wouldn’t be pleasant.
Darian collected his two favorite cats then packed a small suitcase and Traveled to the cabin. He flipped on all the lights. The furniture was worn and rustic with wooden frames and upholstered cushions. He flipped on the heat and looked around the living room, satisfied with his find.
The hair on the back of Darian’s neck rose suddenly, and his newfound ability to track Watchers and Others pinpointed where the Watcher would appear before it did. He faced the corner, weapons drawn. A moment later, the small, grandfatherly looking Watcher with emerald eyes appeared.
“Hello, ikir,” the Watcher said.
“Watcher.”
“It has been awhile since you have been you. You remember me now.”
Darian cocked his head to the side. “I remember enough to know I never liked you.”
“And we never liked you. You always were a complicated man.” The Watcher offered an empty smile. “Unlike Damian.”
“He’s better suited to be the White God than I ever was,” Darian said. “He lacks my … darkness.”
“It makes you stronger.”
“You’re not here to talk about my shit. What do you want?”
“I admit, I’m surprised you haven’t sent me away. Damian would’ve expelled me by now.”
Darian considered the words, well aware of the same truth. He should’ve felt something, perhaps gratitude to the man before him, for the Watchers had helped Sofi find him and Bianca heal him. But he felt nothing, not even his brother Damian’s fury at the immortals messing with the mortal world.
“It’s my duty to expel you. As soon as I figure out how, I will,” he said simply.
“Ah, I see. And Others? Will you treat them with the same temporary tolerance?”
“No. Them I don’t like.”
“Good. That will make this a fruitful conversation,” the Watcher said. “I need to know where the Others are and what they’re doing. I believe Damian has a Hunter among his men, but the White God refuses to speak to me anymore.”
“I can find them,” Darian said, watching the Watcher’s reaction closely.
“Others?”
“And Watchers.”
At these words, the Watcher’s smile faded. Its green gaze turned intent, and Darian waited for it to speak again.
“If you really can find Others, you must reveal their locations to me. We will remove them from the planet,” the Watcher said.
“I could,” Darian agreed. “Tell me, Watcher, if I am the Gatekeeper, what gate am I guarding?”
“The one between worlds.”
“Show me.”
“Will you help us rid the earth of the Others?”
“Sure.”
The Watcher held out his hand. Darian took it. They Traveled, and Darian opened his eyes in a place where it was dark and cold.
“There are now two places on earth where we can enter from the immortal world. This is ours. The Others have their own,” the Watcher explained. “Once we are here, we can Travel at will.”
“I take it the portals can never be closed, or you wouldn’t have showed me where it is,” Darian guessed, looking around. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. Opposite the entrance, he saw an area that shimmered darker than the rest of the cave. Snow crunched underfoot as he moved closer to the portal.
“Correct,” the Watcher said. “Before your battle with the Other in Ireland, there was only one gateway open. You failed to close it, and now there are two. We can’t monitor the Others moving in and out of the mortal world. Does that mean anything to you?”
“I have two gateways to guard. I can do it,” Darian said.
“The Grey God cannot guard two gateways. The war will spread.”
“Do not underestimate me, Watcher.”
“Perhaps you need some motivation to do what you should. This can be arranged.”
“Or you could tell me what you really want from me,” Darian said, not liking the words. Watchers had a reputation in the immortal world as being manipulators. They’d left the human world alone until several months ago.
“That's not our way.” The Watcher motioned to the back of the cave. "Gods, Guardians, and Naturals can pass through, too."
“Keep playing your games,” Darian growled. “Soon, I’ll figure out how to do more than track your kind. Maybe then your ways will change.”
The Watcher continued to ignore him. “Have you never wondered what remains, since regaining your mind?”
Darian stared at the portal, memories swirling through him. The only part of his life that had been good lay beyond the gateway in front of him.
No, he told himself. The good part of his life was gone. Only memories remained. He’d been enslaved the day of the Schism, and Damian would never speak of what happened to their home. Was it the way he left it? Were the gardens where he was born and the beach where he played as a child still there? If he walked beneath the apple trees in the orchard, would she be waiting for him with her sweet smile, as she had the day they met? As she had the day she betrayed him?
He couldn’t help fearing everything was as he left it, and the only thing truly broken in either world—was him.
“Maybe someday,” he said, turning his attention to the Watcher. “You say you don’t know where the Others’ entrance is?”
“We cannot track them in the mortal world until they use a substantial amount of magic.”
“What will you do if I tell you where they are?”
“Confront them.”
Darian eyed him. With the memories of a better time drifting through his mind were memories of a war brewing between Others and Watchers that ultimately ended in the Schism, the severing of the mortal and immortal worlds. The battling immortals had nearly destroyed the human world in pursuit of one another. The only way to protect the humans was to close the gateways between worlds.
And now, two gateways were open again, and the immortals readying the human world for another battle.
“No,” he said. “I’m the Gatekeeper. I manage who and what comes through these gates. I’m responsible for you—and them—fucking up my world. Which means, I’ll let no one through who can fuck up my world.”
“We would remove them.”
“I can remove them now. I don’t need your help,” Darian said and turned away.
“You said you’d help us!” the Watcher said sharply.
“I’ll help you by getting rid of them. That’s what you said you wanted. Or is this another Watcher riddle?”
The Watcher was quiet. As Darian suspected, the small creature was unwilling to reveal its true intentions.
“You can’t do what we can,” the Watcher said finally. “You can’t stop them without us.”
“You can’t find them without me. At least I know where they are.”
“And when they strike?”
“I won’t give them that chance. I’ll find their gateway and hunt them down one by one.”
“You will find yourself short on time, ikir.”
“Maybe. But since I am the Gatekeeper, that’s my concern, not yours,” Darian said firmly.
“You don’t want us to leave you to your fate with them! You can’t stop what comes!”
“Yeah, I do want you to leave. All of you. Go back to the immortal world. Attack the Others there. I’ll clean house here.”
The Watcher winked out of existence. Darian cursed at it under his breath, knowing it hadn’t done what he said. He looked at the portal. Even if he couldn’t close it, there had to be a way to monitor it, or he’d never be able to manage the gateways.
His body seized suddenly, and he dropped to his knees, doubled over. Pain flew t
hrew him, scrambling his thoughts. For a moment, he didn’t know who or where he was. Darkness swallowed him before he could figure it out.
Tucson, Arizona
Near the White God’s former headquarters
The guardsman materialized out of the dark, moonlight glinting off the metallic purple symbol on his back. He approached what had been one of many former safe houses belonging to the White God near the base of the Tucson Mountains. The building had been burnt to the ground, and the guardsman began the process of sifting through the ashes. His masters only needed one small token of the body that had been burned here. Something as small as a piece of hair or a tooth—anything that the soul of the dead immortal might still cling to.
The desert around him was quiet and the sky overhead clear. It stretched for miles, littered with stars brighter than any he’d ever seen. He found himself stretching his head back to take in the view. The stars didn’t shine quite so bright in the immortal world, and the sky didn’t seem as endless.
If he didn’t find what he sought, there might not be an immortal world anymore. The guardsman lowered his gaze to the ashes as he began digging in earnest. Duty replaced his fascination with the mortal world.
His masters wouldn’t be pleased if he came back with nothing. This time, it wasn’t them he feared. Rumors spread through the guardsmen of a second Schism, one that would finish what the first started. The first tore the two worlds apart; the second would destroy one of them. It wouldn’t be his world, not if he found the seemingly innocuous token his masters sent him to find.
He remained throughout the night, crawling on his hands and knees to sift through the debris. Glass bit into his skin. Ashes and dirt sullied his uniform and made him sneeze. Still, he searched. It wasn’t until dawn crested the horizon that he smelled the unmistakable scent of blood. He dug deeper into the pile of cement blocks and ashes before him. At long last, he found the object.
Flecks of blood remained on the carbon fiber bullet. It was the bullet of a Guardian, for only carbon fiber bullets would kill the vamps in the mortal world. The guardsman hesitated, not sensing the soul of the dead immortal despite the blood.
It was all he’d found. His gaze went over the area again then to the sun. He was running out of time. If this was enough, his masters could get to work immediately. If it wasn’t, they’d beat him and send him back.
It all boils down to a matter of minutes, he’d heard his masters saying. We only need a few to disrupt the Watchers’ plan.
He’d risk a beating, if his masters thought a few minutes would save their world. He placed the bullet in a small pouch at his waist and left the ruins, dusting himself off. His gaze went to the sunrise, a brilliant display of reds and oranges over the desert. He couldn’t help hoping he saw this strange, new mortal world again, and the rumors spreading throughout the ranks of guardsmen were just that—rumors. The colors and sensations of the immortal world were richer on the senses, but the mortal world seemed raw, untamed.
Traveling to the portal between worlds, the guardsman took one last look around then dropped through the gateway to the immortal world. He gripped the pouch with its precious cargo. One day, he might tell his children about the mortal world, how wild it was, before his masters destroyed it to save his world.
Darian opened his eyes. The cave was dark. He was curled up on the cold floor. He hadn’t had one of the attacks in a few days. He’d had them frequently when Sofi freed him from the Black God. For months, he’d black out several times a day and wake up somewhere else, usually with the room around him in shambles.
At least he couldn’t destroy the rocky cave. He glanced around and pushed himself up. The point where Watchers entered the world was not the best place to pass out. He was lucky he hadn’t been killed after telling them off.
With a shiver, Darian Traveled back to the cabin he’d claimed. His head throbbed and his body ached, as if he’d flung himself against the rocky wall. He took a hot shower to soothe the muscle aches and stood in the hot water, letting it run over him.
He hadn’t wanted to think about the blackouts when he’d told Damian he was leaving. He’d hoped they’d be manageable. Standing alone in the shower, he realized just how closed he’d come to his own death. If the Watchers hadn’t needed him alive for some reason, they’d have killed him as he lay helpless and seizing in their cave.
Three lives down, he told himself. He roused himself, unwilling to sink into the dark thoughts. Darian exited and dressed in all black, arming himself with knives.
Now that he had a place and knew what the Watchers wanted, he could focus on his next item of business: finding and killing a few Others.
Darian Traveled back to Damian’s, arriving in the gym. The creature he sought was lifting weights, and bristled as Darian appeared.
“Fine.” Charles, the vamp Hunter Damian traded for Jenn, rose with a growl.
“I can sense them but need to know I’m right,” Darian said. “This time, we can kill them.”
“Ikir Damian said—”
“I’m a god, too, vamp. You can disappear if you get scared,” Darian snapped.
The vamp growled again and flung down the free weights. He stalked to the locker room and returned a few minutes later, armed and dressed. His eyes glowed red. Darian sensed the vamp’s unease despite the bravado. No one normal would challenge an Other.
“Find one,” Charles ordered.
Darian concentrated hard. He felt the Others and the Watchers. He wasn’t sure how, but some part of him knew the difference. The closest of the immortals was a Watcher, and there were Others congregated somewhere. By the strength of their presence in his mind, they weren’t close.
“How do I get to them?” he asked.
“You let the magic guide you. Find one, focus on him, and let your power do its job,” Charles answered.
“I see a whole bunch in one area. Seems like somewhere we’d like to be,” Darian reasoned.
“No, don’t—” Charles’ warning was swallowed as Darian relaxed enough for his magic to carry them to the Others.
Darian opened his eyes and looked around, surprised to find the location familiar. They weren’t far from the Black God’s mountain fortress. Darian was thigh deep in snow, though the storm had stopped and the half-moon was out and bright.
Charles whipped out his weapons, and Darian soon saw why. Three Others with glowing purple eyes stood several feet away, frozen in surprise.
“Hi,” Darian said, striding towards them. “My name is Darian, and I’m the Grey God.”
“Fucking idiot, son of a—” Charles hissed under his breath.
“We know who you are,” one of the Others replied.
“Then you know why I’m here,” Darian said. He stopped a short distance from the one who spoke and drew a knife.
“That we do not.”
“I’m here to send you home. Or kill you. Your choice.”
There was a short silence, then the Other he addressed chuckled.
“Neither of those things are possible, Guardian.”
“Charles, step back,” Darian said.
Still cursing him, the vamp obeyed and scrambled away. The Others looked at him in curious amusement. Darian sensed at least one gathering its magic to shred him from the inside out. He tried to remember what Sofi had told him about his magic.
Relax. Let it come to you.
He’d fought the advice for as long as he could remember. Whenever he loosened his grip on his power, he felt it respond. He feared what it could do, that he couldn’t control it. However, if attacked by Others, he preferred to level everything around them than take the chance he was the only one killed.
“In the name of the White God, Damian, and the Black God, Jonny, I banish you from the mortal earth,” he said. “Let’s not make this hard on anyone.”
“I am no longer amused,” the Other before him said.
Purple magic arced from his body and slammed Darian into a tree. He grunted as he drop
ped into the snow. The blow hurt, but he was no stranger to pain.
“Now, my turn,” Darian said.
The Other glowed purple-black in the night, and more lightning streaked towards Darian. The Grey God pulled his own power and used it to deflect, ducking away from the sizzling strike meant to rip him apart. Instead of waiting for the Other to attack again, Darian spun and plunged his knife into the creature’s belly.
“Foolish creature. That does not work … on … us.” The Other’s words slowed, and the creature looked down at the protruding weapon.
Darian followed his gaze, not smelling or seeing blood. The magic around the Other fizzled. Without another word, the creature dropped. Surprised, Darian stared at the motionless body, waiting for it to spring up and attack him. When it didn’t, he looked to the remaining two Others, who stared at him in shock.
“One down, two to go,” he said and bent to retrieve the knife.
Purple magic seized him, bound him, and lifted him into the air. It slammed him between trees and sizzled through his blood. He felt as if he was burning up from the inside out.
I know pain, and this is nothing, he chanted to himself, waiting for them to release him so he could attack. He smelled the scent of his own skin and hair burning. Still he waited. They’d have to drop him eventually, even if it was to Travel elsewhere. When they did, he’d attack.
He could kill them. It had taken a team of Guardians—including two Original Beings—to kill the last Other. But he’d done it on his own. It was easier than killing a vamp.
His body afire, Darian belted out a laugh of pain-filled triumph. The game was now his.
Chapter Three
The commotion in the forest drew Jenn and those vamps near her towards it. She’d been sleeping somewhat well beside the panoramic window when purple light lit up the foyer. She’d pulled on her boots and snatched her backpack before she was half awake, running towards the door. Vamps poured out of the fortress into the snow, stopping to puzzle over the brilliant purple lights lancing across the treeline.
“Xander! Jenn!” Jonny’s voice was young and raw again. “What is it?” He shoved his way through the vamps and joined her.
