by Lizzy Ford
Jenn ignored him and went to the punching bag she’d adopted as hers. Xander was in the gym whenever she was, no matter what time of day or night she went.
“Not in the mood, I see,” Xander said.
“Just warming up. I’m gonna do it this time,” she told him with a grunt as she unleashed a kick-punch-kick combo into the bag.
“Beat me?”
“Yep.”
“It’s good to have delusions.”
“We call it optimism. If I could get rid of every single one of your kind, I would.”
“You’d have nothing to do if we weren’t around to kill,” mused the bored predator.
“I can live with that,” she replied and straightened. “I’m not here to entertain you, Xander.”
“Why else do you think I gave you back your power? Should make what comes more interesting.”
“I’m ready.” Her blood was moving and her head clear. No part of her believed he’d let her live if he didn’t have a reason to keep her around. He unceremoniously offered to return her Guardian power to her a week before in exchange for blood, part of a plan only he understood. The bites in her arm still hurt. Until that time came when their sparring became a final battle, she’d learn as much as she could from the ancient warrior.
Jenn joined Xander in the ring. She was dressed in clothing meant to facilitate her movement, but Xander wore heavy boots and clothing, as if he’d just come from outdoors. If one of his steel-toed boots connected with her head, she’d be dead.
One day, she would beat him at his own game. In the meantime, she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. She’d figure out his weakness and hold onto that knowledge for when she needed it.
She struck first, not bothering to soften her blows as she might with anyone else. Xander deflected and attacked. His strikes were hard and fast and seemingly from every direction. She’d learned to stop thinking when in the ring with him and listen to her senses, to include the mind control talent. Anything that would indicate where his next strike would fall.
He and Darian would make for a thrilling match, she noted. Darian was lean as a whip, his body honed to the point where instinct and reaction were one. She’d never battled anyone with Darian’s speed.
Xander’s elbow smashed into her face. If she hadn’t noticed the blow soon enough, she’d have no teeth. As it was, he busted her lip and left her ears ringing. The vamp withdrew.
“That was an easy one. You should’ve blocked that five times over,” he chided.
“Some of us don’t move at the speed of light,” she snapped and wiped the blood away. “C’mon, I’m ready.”
“You’re head’s not in the game. Someday, you might need these lessons.”
“You’ve got my attention now.”
His gaze lingered on her hand, where crimson blood was smeared. He’d never drawn blood before. She wondered how long it’d take before every vamp in the mansion was waiting in the locker room to claim what they could from her. When Xander didn’t look away, she began to suspect she’d found a weak point.
“What’s wrong, Xander?” she purred. “Whose head isn’t in the game now?”
“You’d be wise to clean that up.”
“Oh, you mean this?” she asked with faux innocence. “Just a little blood. I’m fine.”
“You’re a fool to mess with a creature like me, Guardian.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Jenn stepped closer to him and held out the bloodied hand. “Nothing? Oh, that’s right. You want me alive.” She dropped her arm. “You wouldn’t let me back out if our roles were reversed.”
His response was a strike hard enough to jar her to the bone when she blocked it. She filed her discovery as the only known weakness of the vamp. They settled into a battle that left her drenched in sweat before she left the ring and him looking like a cat that just caught a mouse.
When she retreated to the locker room, her lip was puffy and her body achy already. No vamps awaited her there. She cleaned up the blood first then took a fast enough shower that the water didn’t have time to warm from cold to hot. She’d stopped trying to figure out why Xander tormented her every day. It was more than because he was bored, and she knew very well what he could do if he wanted to. She’d seen him trying to train the Black God a couple of times but never in the ring with any of the vamps.
Just the lone Guardian whose mission there was as hidden to the boy-god as the Original Being’s.
When she was cleaned up, she set about doing what she did every morning: rifling through the sparse pantry then searching the mansion for more information. She went to the bedroom without a door that had been hers until she took up her spot sleeping in the foyer. There were two heads on the bed this day: that of a buck and one of a bear. Each had a note.
Jenn ignored them both. Her surveillance team had yet to follow her to the restroom, and she disappeared inside, locking the door. She stripped out of her vest and hid her bag under the sink. Jenn placed the blade of a knife between her teeth and pried the window of her bathroom open. Cold wind swept through the room.
She knocked the snow off the ledge. As she did every day, she wriggled out onto it and crept the length of the ledge to the neighboring window. Jonny’s bathroom was four times the size of hers. She pulled the window open and dropped in, glancing around to make sure she was alone. She peeked from his bathroom into the largest bedroom suite in the mansion then stepped into the area serving as a living room and study.
The Black God’s bedroom door was closed for the first time in a week. Judging by the position of his computer, he’d been on it last night, and the black notebook where he wrote notes to himself about his duties was missing. She’d been trying to get her hands on it since arriving. Damian had assigned her here to help Jonny root out the vamps who were working with Others in the Black God’s ranks.
More importantly, she had to find out what Jonny’s next step was, once the month-long truce between White and Black Gods was up. Nearly all of the Guardians were without their magic. Vamps would be able to pick them off as easily as they did humans. She needed to know what Jonny planned.
Jenn started forward then paused with a glance towards the closed bedroom door. She was sensitive to any change in his habits. Even something as small as a closed door made her instincts tingle.
She crossed to it and pushed it open, her attention falling to the slender blonde slung across Jonny’s bed. The dead woman’s pale skin and hair starkly contrasted with Jonny’s black silk sheets and duvet. Her missing throat left Jenn no doubt what happened. What dismay she felt at Jonny’s first killing a week ago had slid into understanding that the Black God was merely becoming what he was.
Her Jonny was almost completely gone. Jenn released a deep sigh. She replaced her knife in its sheath and looked around for more bodies. Jonny should know to respect the dead enough to bury or burn those he killed. Maybe the vamps hadn’t taught him that yet.
Jenn carefully positioned the young woman’s body and rolled her in one of the sheets. She rose and gasped, not sensing the silent Xander, who stood in the doorway to the living room.
“It’s useless to fight it,” he observed.
“I don’t give a shit about Jonny. I know he’s a lost cause,” she replied. “This girl deserves better than to be tossed aside like yesterday’s trash.”
“Good luck digging in the frozen ground,” he said, then added, “And I wasn’t talking about Jonny.”
“I don’t care, Xander.”
“I was talking about Darian.”
She looked up. “What about him?”
“You can’t fight your fate.”
“I’ll never, ever, let you use me to get to him, Xander,” she replied. “It’s out of the question. Fate is not predetermined anyway.”
“No, but some outcomes are more likely than others. If you don’t take the next step down that path, you’ll likely regret the outcome. It won’t be pretty for any of you Guardians.”
“If you’re not going to help me dig, get the fuck out.”
When she looked up again, he was gone. She didn’t want to acknowledge there might be truth to anything he said except for one: she couldn’t dig a grave. The chances of the vamps sniffing around like the animals they were and digging the body up were too high. Jenn returned the way she came—through the bathrooms—and retrieved her backpack. She pulled it on then left her room, trailed by her vamps. She pushed Jonny’s door open and retrieved the dead woman’s body, slinging it over her shoulder.
She marched again into the cold snowstorm and to the maintenance tool shed tucked between boulders and trees. She snagged an axe and went to the forest, trailed by vamps that had drawn closer at the scent of blood.
As she hacked at a young tree, she thought of Xander’s words. It was impossible that he meant to help the Guardians, yet she’d believed for a moment that’s what he implied. Whatever game Xander played, it wouldn’t benefit the Guardians. She wasn’t about to let him use her to betray any of them, especially Darian, who had gone through too much already.
Chapter Two
Darian found a summer cabin beside a lake in a small logging town near the Black God’s hideout. He broke in and checked the electricity, which someone had left on. A quick glance around at the furnished cabin left him satisfied. He left and walked through the snowstorm to the Realtor sign hanging at the end of the long driveway. Plucking it free, he Traveled back to Texas to find the stash of credit cards and identifications Damian kept in the safe in his study. He opened it and rifled through the files.
“How was Jenn?” His sister-in-law’s voice was soft.
“So it was you who wanted me to check on her,” Darian said. “Jenn thought it might be.”
“For an Original Being, Xander has no discretion.”
At Sofi’s icy voice, Darian turned away from the safe and faced her. She stood in the doorway, silver-blue eyes swirling and arms crossed. Damian’s lifemate was petite, beautiful, and angry.
“Take it up with him,” Darian said, amused. “Something weird is going on up there. I’m going to stay close.”
“That’s good.” She still sounded irritated.
Darian faced the safe to hide his smile and continued searching. Sofi was the only Oracle to be found since the Schism. Her cool energy surrounded him. She was constantly assessing him and had been since she discovered him as a prisoner of the Black God.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Better than I have been in a very long time.”
“I sense that.”
“Then what worries you?”
“Just the usual.”
Darian snorted. “I’m fed up with moody women today. Jenn treated me like a shitbag and now you.”
“I was afraid of that. Dammit, Xander,” Sofi muttered. “You just need to keep close to Jenn. She’s in a great deal of danger.”
“Like immediate danger?” he asked, facing her again. “I’ll yank her out of there so fast, not even—”
“You’ll know when.”
“Damn Oracles.” He snatched the documents he needed and closed the door to the safe. “I planned on sticking close anyway. You’re not about to tell me anything else, are you?”
“Not yet.”
“It must be important if you and the Original Being are interested,” he baited, even knowing she’d ignore him.
“Don’t trip over your own feet on your way there or anywhere else.”
“Your Oracle advice sounds like it came out of a fortune cookie.”
Sofi laughed. The small woman was the most powerful Oracle since ancient times, stronger even than his own mother. The White Gods had a long tradition of finding and mating with Oracles. When he’d met Claire, he’d been enamored instantly by her beauty and fighting skill. That she was a weak Oracle unable to access her magic meant nothing to him at the time.
“Which cats are yours?” he asked, forcing his mind off of Claire and Jenn. “I’m taking a couple with me.”
“The little black one with blue eyes. She sits with me when I read.”
“Fitting. Black cat for an Oracle.”
“Be careful, Darian.”
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 ou
t 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.
