by Lizzy Ford
Her headache was now a migraine, and she shielded her eyes against the light from the street that filtered past her honeycomb blinds. She all but staggered into her bathroom. She wrenched open the medicine cabinet for the most powerful of the drugs Dr. Mallard prescribed for her and slammed the cabinet shut.
Her eyes were fully silver, swirling and glowing in the dark.
“What is wrong with me?” she screamed, slamming her fists against the mirror.
Her blood spattered on the wall, and buzzing filled her ears. She sank to the floor. Her phone began to ring again as she slid into a dead faint.
CHAPTER TWO
Sonoran desert, Arizona
The White God’s Headquarters
Damian Bylun stared at the phone. It was a cold day in hell when someone dared hang up on the White God, the Defender of Mankind, the Tamer of Evil. Or, in the words of his BFF, the BS Master of the Universe.
His phone rang, and he answered, expecting the woman to return his call with a few dozen apologies.
“Damian, I’m one of your … employees. My name is Jake H, employee number 0092841.”
He opened his PDA to do a quick search on the number. He didn’t know the names of everyone in the latest generation of his Guardians yet, especially not those working in the field.
Jake H. Organization year: 2000.
Only his undercover agents contained such little information in his database. Jake was risking getting caught to call him.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“NOVA Sector HQ.”
“Stay there.”
He hung up and looked at his executive officer and sparring partner.
“Han, I’m going away for a few to the Northern Virginia Sector. Don’t hold up dinner on my account,” he said, trotting into the 20,000 square foot mansion in the middle of the Arizona desert he called home.
“Say hi to Laney!” Han called.
He changed into all black and strapped a sword to his back before closing his eyes and envisioning the interior of NOVA Sector. In a blink, he’d transported himself there. One foot was immediately soaked. He looked down as two of his Guardians hopped up from their positions.
“Who the hell put a pool here?” he demanded, pulling his right foot out of the shallow end of an in-ground pool.
The two men looked at each other.
“It was a brutal summer,” an amused voice responded.
He turned to see one of his oldest Guardians and the station chief – Han’s brother – leaning in the doorway to the main house.
“Laney, good to see you,” he said warmly, clapping him on the arm. “One of your boys called me.”
“Yeah, he’s been pacing like a madman for a couple of hours. He’s a newbie. Be gentle.”
“It’s fucking cold here,” he complained as he walked into the two story house in the suburbs Washington DC.
He saw the man who called him pacing as Laney had indicated. Jake turned and stared at him, dropped an awkward bow, and straightened, his mouth lax. Damian sat down on the arm of a leather couch, accustomed to the reaction, and pulled off his boot to drain the water.
“You gonna talk or stare?”
Jake looked at Laney then at him.
“I found someone,” Jake said.
“A Natural?” Laney prodded.
Jake shook his head then nodded then shrugged.
“I don’t know what she is. I was embedded at this company we know is operating as a cover for Czerno’s operations. I ran into someone I knew from college.”
Damian looked from his boot to Laney, who shrugged. Seeing the exchange, Jake began to pace again.
“She’s something. I don’t know what.”
“Can you expand a little?” Laney asked.
“She’s started having symptoms that the doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong. She turned 28 two months ago, and started having all these issues, like she’s a vamp. She can’t go out in sunlight … “
He trailed off, deep in thought.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy - “
“Already do,” Damian said. “You wanna tell me why I’m here?”
“I recently gained access to this database that the company’s owner uses. They have a file on her. Her phone and computer are monitored. They have records of her vitals – like her body temperature and shit like that – and copies of her medical records. I found an email the owner sent to an email address we know Czerno uses. It says they want to force the transformation.”
“She’s a Natural,” Laney said, frowning at him. “Treat her like any other. We’ll assign her a Guardian and bring her in.”
“No,” Jake objected. “The email said she’d be ready soon for the procedure Czerno wants her to undergo. A medical procedure where he’s going to drain all her blood and replace it with his.”
Damian held up his hand. He’d begun to think their recruitment standards were slipping, until Jake mentioned the operation. Surprise trickled through him.
“Did it say why?” he pressed.
“No. Just said he wanted it done soon, because he wasn’t taking any risks, even if she hadn’t started transforming yet. I gave her your number, but I doubt she called.”
Only an oracle’s blood was drained to force her to bind with her master. The measure was taken to give him unfettered access to her visions. Century-long wars had been fought in his father’s time over who claimed a discovered oracle, no matter how competent the oracle turned out.
He met Laney’s gaze.
“It’s virtually impossible,” Laney voiced his same thought.
“There haven’t been any in tens of thousands of years,” Damian said slowly. “What else, Jake?”
“That’s it. I just have this feeling … ”
“You have a Traveler assigned to station, Laney?” he asked.
Most stations had one of the Guardians – or Naturals – capable of traveling great distances the way he did. Laney lifted his chin towards Jake, who nodded.
“Watch her. If anything funny happens, bring her in, straight to my headquarters outside of Tucson. Don’t take any chances with this one. Got it?”
Jake nodded again.
“Laney, tell Dustin what’s going on. He gets pissy when you all call me directly without letting him know,” he said.
“Will do.”
Damian closed his eyes and opened them, materializing in his suite in Tucson. He stood before the low burning fire, golden eyes swirling as he thought quickly.
A few Naturals were found every year, and he didn’t bother to remember their names in an organization his size, leaving that level of detail to the regional and sector commanders. An oracle … now that was worthy of his attention. There had been none since Claire, whose powers had been so weak, she was useless to them.
He who binds the oracle, binds the future, his brother had once told him.
His phone dinged, and he flipped it open.
Bro, ur supposd 2 tell me when u visit.
Damian grunted, expecting Dusty’s message. There were only two people in the world who would challenge him: the cold master assassin in charge of the western hemisphere and the warm master negotiator in charge of the eastern hemisphere. As different as night and day, they were his best friends – and the only men in the universe he trusted with his life. Of the two, Dusty was more likely to call him to the floor when he crossed into his business. As their king, Damian owed them nothing. As his adopted brothers in the war against evil, he owed them everything.
He typed a response.
Next time, boss.
He left his room for his office. The quarterly conference held four times a century with the major regional commanders was coming up soon, and he had more pressing issues to resolve before it launched. He entered his office and froze.
“Y’all need to learn to ask before setting foot in my house,” he warned.
The middle-aged man with bright green eyes standing in his study looked harmless. His
frame was slight, his hair silvered, his smile fatherly. Damian knew better than to trust the deceptive appearance of this type of creature. They were some of the most ancient beings in the universe, those whose first war created the universe.
Their second war almost destroyed the universe and ended in the Schism, the divorcing of the divine world from the physical one and stranded the White and Black Gods on earth, preordained to be at each other’s throats for all eternity. The Watchers relegated themselves to the role of audience in the basketball game that was Damian’s war.
“Forgive me, ikir,” the Watcher said with a bow of his head.
“You’re here to fuck up my life, aren’t you?” Damian challenged.
He crossed his arms to display roped forearms and sat on the edge of his desk. The Watcher smiled, genuine mirth in his unblinking gaze.
“I’ve always enjoyed this era of the White God,” he admitted. “You have a spark your forefathers didn’t.”
“I’m glad I entertain you,” Damian said flatly.
“No disrespect meant, ikir.”
The Watcher’s eyes went around his study, as if this was his first visit in a great while. Damian didn’t trust the beings that saw all, knew all, and yet spoke in riddles - if they chose to speak at all.
“You here just to visit?” he prodded at the Watcher’s silence.
“No, ikir. I will be in your territory for some time.”
The words were the first sign of something very, very wrong. Damian’s unease grew.
“There is a disturbance in the uh, basketball game, as you call it,” the Watcher continued. “One of the teams is cheating.”
“Czerno. How bad is it?”
“Bad enough to change the final score.”
Damian mulled his words, waiting for more.
“There are Watchers who have left the crowd for Czerno’s team. They’re coaching him,” the Watcher said softly.
“Fuck,” Damian breathed. “The last time you all got into a war, you nearly destroyed the universe.”
“Our war has again spread to yours,” the Watcher continued. “I am bound by the oath of non-interference I took at the Schism. I, too, can only … coach, though I will choose when and where.”
“So I shouldn’t be surprised to see you in my territory, and I shouldn’t expect shit from you.”
“Yes, ikir.”
“How long will you be coaching in my territory?”
“It may be awhile by earth standards. Those coaching Czerno are shifting the future daily.”
Damian hadn’t expected his day to be so eventful. If the Watchers were once again bringing their battle to earth, it meant the Original Beings imprisoned by the Schism were stirring up old divisions again. He was too young to know much about those beings or much about the Watchers. Jule, his other BFF and the oldest of the three of them by far, had come from the same world as the Watchers but refused to talk about it.
“That is all I will say, ikir, except to remind you that the White and Black gods cannot kill one another directly. To do so would release the Original Beings, and then things would really be bad.”
His jaw clenched. He didn’t often feel helpless, not when he held the powers of a god among humans. But Watchers played on a different level. He was restricted to the physical world by the Schism despite his god-powers. By and large, the Watchers did whatever the hell they wanted. That this one had come to him with a warning was the most he could expect. And he didn’t like it.
“By your leave, ikir,” the Watcher said and bowed his head again.
“Try not to screw up too much of my shit,” he returned.
The Watcher nodded and disappeared in a wink of light.
First a possible oracle, then a Watcher. He had a feeling the war was just starting to get interesting.
* * *
She awoke stiff and cold on the bathroom floor. Sunlight streaming through the blinds, making her head pound harder.
“Oh god, Sofia!” Jake’s voice came from the doorway. “I’ve been trying to call …”
His voice trailed off as he took in the pills scattered all over the bathroom floor and her bloodied hands.
“You tried to kill yourself,” he whispered.
“No, Jake,” she mumbled and pushed herself up.
She sat on her knees for a long moment. Jake reached for her, and she recoiled.
“Don’t touch me!”
He paused, and she saw the confliction in his gaze.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he decided, grabbing her arm.
The visions started. Jake cleaved in two by a maniacal man with a sword. She shoved him away, landing hard on her backside while he careened into the bathroom wall.
“No, Jake. Leave me be!”
She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face from the light. She shivered from cold and pain. He brought her a blanket and draped it over her.
“Jake,” she said, voice cracking. “Something is really wrong with me.”
“No, really?” he retorted. “Did you call Dr. Bylun or not?”
“He didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Even when you told him your issues?”
“I couldn’t get past his secretary.”
She saw Toby’s broken body again in her mind and pushed it away. Every vision she’d had, even when Jake touched her, had been of death.
Her phone rang, and she saw Dr. Mallard’s number flash on the screen.
“Hi Linda,” she murmured.
“Sofia, this is Dr. Mallard. We were expecting you at 7:15.”
She glanced at her watch. It was 9.
“I’m sorry, doc. I overslept.”
“It’s important Dr. Czerno sees you this morning. Can you come in?”
“No, no, my eyes are too sensitive.”
“Why don’t we do an old-fashioned house call and come to you?”
Surprised at his persistence, she remembered the shape her apartment was in.
“Doc, I’ll come in tomorrow. I’m not having a good morning.”
“Hon, this is important. Dr. Czerno believes you’ll begin to have more symptoms soon, ones that might indicate the disease is accelerating.”
“Symptoms, like what?”
“Hallucinations. Paranoia. Sense of doom.”
His words hit her hard.
“Doc, I … “ she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the visions.
“Here, let me put you on with Dr. Czerno.”
There was the sound of a phone being shuffled from one person to another, then a flat, deep male voice.
“Sofia, this is Dr. Czerno. It’s imperative you see me at the earliest opportunity.”
“Doc, what’s wrong with me?” she asked.
“I can explain in detail in person, but it’s important I see you now.”
She hesitated. There was something about his tone – flat and free of human warmth like the talking computer her blind coworker used – that made her uneasy.
“I’ll be in when I can, doc,” she murmured. “Can you tell me what other symptoms I might have?”
“Have you experienced any of the symptoms Dr. Mallard described?”
“Yes.”
“And more?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about them.”
No. Her instincts were restless, and every fiber in her body warned her not to respond.
“I’ll come see you right away,” she said, knowing this alone would pacify him.
“Very good. I will be here. How far out are you?”
“About an hour.”
“I will see you soon. And Sofia, I don’t appreciate being stood up.”
There was a warning note in his voice that made her more uncomfortable. She hung up. Her last hope for understanding what was wrong with her was someone she innately knew she didn’t want to meet.
“Who was that? Dr. Bylun?” Jake asked hopefully, reappearing in the bathroom door.
“I thought Dr. Mallard was the only doctor you hadn’t fired yet.”
“Not him. The specialist. He sounds like he’s from Russia. His name is Dr. Cicero. Or Zirno Or something.”
“Czerno?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Jake was so quiet, she thought he left until he spoke again.
“Sofia, will you come with me somewhere?”
If not for the painful sunlight, she’d have looked up at the hushed note in his voice.
“No.”
“I promise, it’ll be worth your time.”
“Not during daylight.”
Her body was beginning to ache more, from her battered hands to her bruised cheek from where she’d fallen after fainting the night before. A deeper ache, as if she had the flu and every muscle in her body were on fire, was made worse by sleeping on the cold floor. She was in pain she didn’t understand. A tear trickled down her cheek.
She’d never been moody or wimpy or weak! In high school and college, she played co-ed soccer and basketball. Since leaving college, she’d stayed in shape through the local gym, where she lifted weights twice a week and forced herself onto a cardio machine twice a week. She wasn’t in tip-top shape, but she wasn’t weak!
“What the hell happened to your apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to get up?”
“No.”
“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn. I’m trying to help you!”
She hurt too much to move. If she were perfectly still, she could deal with the pain.
“You want something to drink?”
Her head ached too much to respond. He returned a few minutes later, and rustled her blanket, setting a cup beside her.
She drank the cool fruit punch down, grateful as it chilled her parched throat. She soon felt relaxed and drowsy. When her phone began to ring again, she stretched for it and found she couldn’t move.
“Sorry, Sofi, but I gotta take you somewhere safe,” Jake’s voice warbled.
