Damian's Oracle

by Lizzy Ford

“I’m here, bro!”

  Dusty materialized beside him, his gun roaring in the narrow hallway as he mowed down Jilien’s men.

  “He’s coming!” he warned.

  Damian slashed thrown Jilian, and the vamp dropped. He hacked him apart until there was nothing but pulp.

  “Laney, send in everything!” Dusty barked into his mike. “Now!”

  Vamps jammed both directions of the hall, and Czerno was making a beeline for the room behind the wall in front of them.

  “Hold em, bro,” Damian shouted and placed his hands on the wall.

  “Got it,” Dusty said, reloading before his hand cannons began roaring again.

  The wall before him burst into dust, and he crawled through the opening, firing a full clip at the form at the other end. The mansion rocked as Dusty’s first set of explosions went off. The ceiling began to crumble. A second explosion threw him across the room. Czerno disappeared.

  Damian rose, sickened by the sight before him. Sofia lay on the cold steel table, her tears still wet but her eyes open and staring blankly. A tube ran from her neck to the vat of blood on the floor. What had started as a stream of blood had slowed to a few remaining drops.

  Fury filled him. A stone dropped from the ceiling into the vat, and warm blood splashed over him.

  Dusty joined him, drawing a sharp breath at the sight.

  “This place is about to come down,” he warned.

  Damian launched forward, snatching the tube and whipping out a knife.

  “Cut me,” he ordered.

  “You know what you’re doing?”

  “Think I just got me an oracle,” Damian said grimly.

  He felt Dusty’s gaze on him before it went to the still woman.

  “This is more permanent than marriage,” he said in a hushed tone.

  Damian followed his gaze. He felt fear again, an emotion he hated. Every instinct in his body ached to feel Sofia alive again. He didn’t know if she’d understand – or forgive him – for what he was about to do to her. He didn’t know if he understood what he was doing. But seeing her lifeless on the table made his soul wrench in a way that reminded him …

  Darian.

  He handed Dusty the knife and pulled off the high-collared vest to expose his throat.

  “Do it,” he ordered.

  Dusty obeyed and punctured deep into his jugular. Damian shoved the other end of the tube into his neck, releasing his power. He sealed his skin around the tube, forced the flow downward, and placed his hands on her, forcing her body to accept his blood. Dizziness made him lean onto the table, and he loosed his regeneration powers.

  Dusty watched in silence. The house was crashing down around them. He couldn’t transport a dead body.

  “D!” Dusty shouted as a chunk of stone crushed a stainless steel cabinet.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” Damian urged, watching for signs of life in the woman. He forced his blood out faster and faster.

  “We gotta go!” Dusty yelled, slapping him on the back. “Now!”

  Damian carefully gathered the woman into his arms and closed his eyes. Dizziness washed over him, and he felt his body strain to transport. Silence, and he opened his eyes to find himself kneeling on the NOVA Sector’s kitchen floor.

  “D, put her down. Laney, get the defib!”

  Her eyes were closed, but color bloomed in her cheeks.

  He ordered his body to cease the transfusion and pulled the tube from his neck, healing the tear. He gently removed the tube from the oracle and placed his hand over the wound to heal it. He touched her face, exhausted for the first time in years. He leaned against the cabinets behind him.

  “Move, D,” Dusty ordered, snatching the defibrillator from Laney.

  He cut her shirt open while it charged and placed the paddles against her chest. Her body bucked, and her eyes flew open. The oracle gasped.

  Dusty felt for her pulse before resting against the cabinets opposite him. Damian met his gaze, and they sat in comfortable silence in the small kitchen, breathing hard as they recovered.

  “Jule’s gonna be pissed we didn’t invite him,” Dusty said at last and pulled off his gloves, tossing them.

  “He would’ve tried to talk us out of it anyway,” Damian said. “He’s not as violent as us, bro.”

  “I think you mean as me,” Dusty corrected him, then chuckled. “Congrats, ikir. You figure out how to train an oracle?”

  “No fucking clue,” Damian admitted with a ruthless grin.

  “May the gods help you. I sure can’t.”

  “What is she?” Laney asked, returning to the kitchen.

  Damian rose and pulled Dusty to his feet.

  “That, Laney, is my oracle,” he said. “Watch her for a bit while we go back and clean up what’s left of Czerno’s goons.”

  Laney’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at the unconscious, blood spattered woman.

  “Yes, ikir,” he murmured and knelt, lifting Sofia off the ground. “I’ll take care of her.”

  * * *

  She stared at the sunbeams moving across the ceiling, not remembering where she was or how she arrived. Her memories wiggled their way out of the mud of her mind, and she sat upright. She was alive! She touched her face, her arms, her body. At the memory of the pain, she began to shake.

  It’s over!!

  Yet the sensation of fire creeping through her remained. She suddenly realized the curtains were open, and the sun streaming into her window didn’t hurt her eyes. Her memories overshadowed, she threw open the curtains. She shoved the cracked balcony door all the way open. She bathed in the mid morning sun. Morning air had never tasted so wonderful! She didn’t have to wear sunglasses indoors anymore, didn’t have to hide from moonlight!

  “You look good.”

  She whirled, heart leaping at the sound. Han sat in the corner of her room nearest the door.

  “I can go outside!” she exclaimed. “I’m cured!”

  She looked again at the sunlit courtyard beyond her window.

  “I’m here again,” she murmured, troubled, and faced Han. “I’m … transformed?”

  Han nodded grimly.

  “Isn’t that good?” she prodded. “Isn’t it what you all wanted?”

  “It is,” he confirmed.

  “You don’t look happy.”

  “It all turned out well, I guess,” he said at last. “As long as you’re ok?”

  “I am. I can go outside again.”

  She sat to pull on shoes and saw the scars around her wrists, evidence of her fight against the bindings Julian used to strap her onto the table.

  “Han, what happened to me?”

  “It’s better you don’t remember.”

  “I do remember. At least, part of it I remember. Jilian injected me with something to kill me,” she paused, shuddering at the flash of residual pain from the memories. “Did he succeed?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I died?”

  “You did.”

  Her eyes closed at the bizarre news. How many peopled lived to hear they’d died?

  “What happened then?”

  “Ask Damian.”

  She shuddered, afraid to face him after ditching him as she had before. No doubt he’d had to do some terrible things to free her from Czerno.

  “Is Jilian dead?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “I told him so,” she said softly, disturbed. “Is Damian ok?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why are you upset?”

  “We lost Jake.”

  Jake’s death flashed through her thoughts.

  “Jilian killed him,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  Because of me. Sofia slumped. As much as Jake annoyed her, he was still her friend. And he’d brought her somewhere where she could be safe.

  “Han, can I be alone?”

  He complied. Sofia crawled into bed and cried again. She’d not only seen his death - she’d caused it! Her heart ached for her friend. She c
ried until she was too tired to cry more and drifted into a vision, reliving the few moments she spent with Jilian.

  You must die first.

  … an oracle must be bound …

  for all eternity …

  Fire.

  She jerked out of the memory with a cry. Han slammed the door open, and she squeezed her eyes closed, expecting the light from the hallway to hurt her. When it didn’t, she uncurled herself from the ball she was in. His gaze swept over her before he retreated outside her door.

  It was dark outside. She’d wasted her first day of light. She forced herself out of bed, exhausted and hungry. She took a shower and padded through the quiet mansion to the kitchen.

  “At least I don’t crave peanut butter anymore,” she murmured as she went through the contents of the fridge.

  In fact, she didn’t crave anything anymore. Her stomach grumbled but the thought of a ham sandwich disgusted her. She made one anyway and forced herself to eat it, blaming her recent trauma for her queasiness.

  Five minutes later, she bent over a toilet paying homage to the porcelain gods.

  “My God!” she gargled between bouts of heaving.

  Han watched, handing her a wet wash cloth when she was done.

  “Han!” she wailed. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Ask Damian.”

  “I knew you’d say that,” she muttered.

  Though nauseated by the thought, she heated up a can of soup and forced herself to eat it. The soothing warmth slid down her throat. Five minutes later, it returned, scorching her throat on the way out.

  She wiped her mouth again and flung the rag against the wall, chest heaving.

  “Han, please,” she begged. “What can I eat?”

  “Damian’s in his room. Go see him,” Han said, concerned yet unyielding.

  “Does he have food?”

  “More or less.”

  “It better be a feast,” she growled and stood. She returned to her room to clean herself up, cursing peanut butter for ruining her appetite as she went.

  A sense of dread filled her as she approached Damian’s room. Han hung back, and she turned to him as she knocked.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Why not?”

  If Damian hadn’t opened the door, she would have run back to her room. Han was as big as the man before her, and if he feared him …

  Damian’s gaze swept over her. A burst of need washed over her as her body responded to his scent.

  “Are you well?” he asked with a brusqueness that caught her off guard. His face was guarded.

  She swallowed hard and nodded, struggling to control the strange sense of desire bubbling uncontrolled within her.

  “Han said I should see you,” she said.

  At his long look, she backed away from the door.

  “I’ll come back later.”

  He threw open the door and walked away. She hesitated, sensing that entering his domain would somehow seal her to a fate she didn’t yet understand.

  I owe it to Jake.

  Damian turned down the stereo blasting trance music and faced her, crossing his arms as she closed the door.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said again, unable to see his face in the shadows of the dimly lit room.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Damian, I’m so sorry about Jake,” she said, voice cracking and fading into a whisper. “He’s been my friend for almost t..ten years. I’m so sorry.”

  He emerged from his defensive position, pausing near her. She wiped her eyes.

  “I saw what Jilian did to him and what you did to Jilian. I saw what Jilian did to everyone and Czerno …“

  She closed her eyes. Damian rested his hands on her shoulders. The images left.

  “I didn’t know there were such people in this world.”

  “They’re not people,” he told her. “Jake’s death is not your fault.”

  “But it is. If I stayed here, he wouldn’t have come to save me and died.”

  “Jake was a warrior, one of my loyal Guardians. I mourn him, but he died doing what he was trained to do. No warrior wants to die of old age.”

  “He deserved better.”

  “You’ve been dropped into the middle of a war no human knows about. Men like Jake wouldn’t want to die any other way than honorably defending people like you.”

  He touched her face, and her mouth went dry. Not trusting herself, she refused to look at him and instead wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated before hugging her. Engulfed in his heat and scent, she relaxed. He felt like home. No, better. He felt like a piece of heaven!

  Her stomach grumbled loudly again.

  “You’re hungry,” he said, withdrawing.

  “I’ll get something later,” she said, surprised when he retreated across the room again. “Is everything ok?”

  “Wonderful,” was the sarcastic response.

  Confused by his moods, she watched him cross to a thick goblet where a knife lay beside it.

  “I’ll go now.”

  “You are about to confront your new reality,” he said. His tone made her back towards the door.

  “C’mere.”

  She shook her head, fear spiraling through her.

  “Sofia, what’s done can’t be undone, even if you want it so.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “I told you I’d never hurt you,” he said in a softer tone.

  “I’m not feeling reassured right now!” she retorted.

  He left the corner and approached her, stopping when she took a step back. He held out his hand.

  “C’mere,” he said more gently. “I promise not to harm you.”

  She hung in indecision for a long moment until she recalled that being in his arms was the only place she ever found peace. She placed her hand in his. He tugged her forward until their bodies met. Her blood surged with desire, her breathing quickening. She stared at his chest, afraid again to look up.

  “Jilian killed you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her in a secure hug.

  She leaned into him, at peace yet hyped up on adrenaline and desire.

  “He said he was going to drain all my blood out.”

  “And he did. I brought you back.”

  “How?”

  “With my blood. My blood runs through your veins. You need it to live.”

  “Of course I need blood to live,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “It’s the deepest bond my … our kind can share and one that Czerno had in store for you.”

  You must die first.

  … an oracle must be bound …

  for all eternity …

  “You will never hunger for food nor thirst for water. I think you found out what eating does to you?”

  She said nothing, her heart somersaulting.

  “It’s also a bond that folks in my position have to be careful about taking on, because it leaves me vulnerable. That can be an issue when you don’t know how to fight. You make an easy target.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” she agreed. “Are you going to teach me to fight?”

  “Maybe. We have to get through this first.”

  She didn’t want to ask but did.

  “Through what?”

  His grip tightened around her, and she resisted the urge to push him away and flee. He pulled the knife from his pocket, flipped it inward, and sliced into the tender flesh of his wrist.

  Horror and hunger surged through her. The scent of his blood was more intoxicating than a shitload of vodka on a Friday night. She craved him in a way that nearly crippled her.

  “Oh God!” she whispered raggedly. “No! No, no, no!”

  “You have no choice,” he said with calmness that terrified her. “You’ll die without it.”

  “Let me go!”

  She shoved against him as hard as she could, knowing when he released her it was because he wanted to. She tore out of his room, the scent of his blood
ensnared in her senses.

  She ran from the mansion into the gardens and towards the forest. Too weak to continue, she dropped to her knees. Her scream was one of fury and frustration. She screamed until she was hoarse, shaking in the chilled air.

  “I guess he told you,” Han said and squatted beside her. “You know, to our kind, it’s an honor to be blood bound to someone like him.”

  It should have been her instead of Jake! Damian’s words swirled through her thoughts, along with the scent of his blood. The thought of drinking from him made her sick, and she pushed herself up to vomit.

  “I want to die, Han,” she cried. “I can’t live like this! I’m a monster!”

  “You have no idea what he went through to save you. Because of him, you’re alive, and you still have a soul. If he didn’t bind you, you’d be bound to Czerno, and then you’d really want to kill yourself,” he said. “You’re bound to our king, our god, our master. If anyone else saw you refuse him, they’d kill you.”

  “I’m human, Han,” she argued.

  “Not any more. You’re one of us now.”

  She threw up again, sick and weak.

  “I won’t do it,” she swore.

  “You have no choice, ikira.”

  What’s done can’t be undone.

  She wept, not objecting when Han lifted her deftly and carried her back to her room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  My name is Darian. Help me.

  She spent the better half of the next day too depressed to leave her bed before forcing herself up and parking on the patio in the sun, determined not to waste another day in the dark. Darian- whoever he was - would drive her crazy if she didn’t find a way to distract her thoughts. Han stayed with her, not moving until two Guardians - a raven-haired man with a quick smile and a brooding blond - approached. He stood and shook hands with both of them.

  “The winter’s better here than Europe, I imagine,” he said with a smile. “This is Ikira Sofia.”

  “Ikira, I’m honored,” the dark haired man said with a bow and a thick Spanish accent. “I’m Grande.”

  Han rolled his eyes.

  “That would be a description of his ego and nothing else,” the brooding blond said with a light French accent. “I’m Pierre, Ikira.”

  “Boring,” Grande said. “He skipped the class on good nom de plumes.”

  Pierre gave him a sidelong look at his butchered French, and Sofia smiled despite herself.