by Lizzy Ford
The Watchers must’ve gotten some sort of twisted pleasure out of dangling a similar situation over his head again after so long! The fate of humanity was on his shoulders, with only an innocent woman between him and his ability to help the Guardians.
“Little bastards,” he muttered.
Trust your instincts. He trusted Sofi over the Watchers but couldn’t help wishing the damned Oracle had been a bit more specific. If the Watchers went to Damian, and Damian wanted the Magician dead … she’d be dead. Jule would never cross one of his brothers.
One thing at a time, he told himself. He wasn’t to that point yet, and he had to figure out just how to protect the woman from the man she considered her own father. Staying in the basement where the Other could find and kill him wasn’t his top choice, but at least he was in the house. He could keep an eye on both the Other and the Magician better.
And stay warm. He was beginning to hate the cold.
Chapter Three
The White God, Damian, studied the Black God’s youthful features, both pitying and wary. Black Gods grew into their powers the way he had discovered his White God powers, though he suspected an evil education was far from pleasant. The gangly youth before him had dyed his hair from platinum back to its natural color of black. His brown eyes were shadowed, his Hispanic features the color of caramel.
“Why did you call me here?” the Black God asked, ill at ease in the small room in the basement of their old headquarters in Miami.
“We both have a mutual problem. Believe it or not, I come in peace,” Damian said. He spread his arms to show he wasn’t carrying any weapons.
“Is my sister okay?” The Black God’s gaze turned sharp.
“Absolutely,” Damian said and smiled to himself, marveling again at the turn of events that led to his chief assassin, Dusty, mating with the Black God’s sister.
“He knows what I’ll do to him if something happens to her?”
“I’m pretty sure he gets the picture,” Damian said, unable to help his amusement. “It’s not every day you marry the sister of a God.”
“Then what do you want?” the Black God asked.
“We have a pest problem. You know by now about the Watchers and Others?”
Jonny, the Black God, hesitated before nodding.
“You know they’re at war with each other and playing games with us here on earth.”
“I …” Another hesitation, as the youth grappled with what to say to his sworn enemy. “Yes. The Others were attempting to influence the outcome of who won the Black God mantle by using me. It didn’t work.” Angry light flared in the Black God’s eyes.
“They staged a revolt within the Black God’s ranks,” Damian reminded him. “Something like this won’t happen among the Guardians.”
“Except for Claire.”
“Ah,” Damian said with a tight smile. “You’re learning fast.”
“No one is invulnerable to temptation, Damian.”
“Some of us are,” Damian countered, impressed by how far the youth had come in so short a time. He’d wondered if the kid had the guts to embrace the Black God’s mission, or if he’d shy away from it.
“Some, not all,” Jonny allowed. “I’ve heard rumors among my vamps of the Others walking among them. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” Damian agreed. “Which is why I want us to reach an agreement. Let the Others and Watchers fight amongst themselves without our involvement.”
“I’d rather root them out and have them killed.”
“That may not help things. Neutrality is probably less likely to piss off the immortal realm. Besides, they’re hard little bastards to catch, if you hadn’t noticed,” Damian pointed out.
“I did. I’m surprised you’re not interested in a ceasefire with me, since your Guardians are powerless,” Jonny said.
“That’s my concern, not yours.”
Jonny looked away at his sharp tone, and Damian saw the Black God’s fear.
“I don’t know the extent of the Others’ subversion,” Jonny admitted at last. “Your predecessor, Czerno, had no spy networks. His philosophy seemed to be to throw as many vamps at an issue as he could.”
“Your predecessor wasn’t known for his sense of strategy.”
“I would agree not to slaughter your Guardians and declare a ceasefire for thirty days, if you will agree to help me root out the traitors in my own organization.”
Damian considered. There was more to the boy’s intentions than he let on. The Black God had yet to meet his gaze again. There was one simple truth to their dual existence: neither Black nor White God could exist without the other. Damian understood the delicate balance between Good and Evil, just as he understood the Black God had the power to overturn that balance as long as the Guardians were powerless.
Give him Jenn. The voice of Damian’s mate, Sofi, was a whisper in his mind. He frowned. Jenn was Dusty’s most senior female Guardian, the captain of the Western Hemisphere’s spy network. It made sense to lend someone with her expertise to the Black God, but only if Damian knew she’d be safe.
“Would you consider an exchange?” he asked carefully. “One of my experienced Guardians will join you and help you root out the traitors. In exchange, I want you to choose your top advisor to send to me.”
“Sort of like a hostage exchange?”
“Something like that.”
Jonny considered. “I think that would work.”
“I’ll send you Jenn.”
Jonny’s head snapped up, his expression one of surprise that quickly turned to anger. He paced. Damian studied him, curious about the reaction.
“Did the damn Oracle do this?” Jonny demanded.
“Watch it, kid. The Oracle is my mate,” Damian growled. “Jenn is the chief of my spies. There’s no one more qualified to help you.”
More confusion crossed the Black God’s face. Damian wondered what the hell Sofi had figured out that would send the man before him into the teenage-like fit.
“We good?” Damian prodded as the Black God sulked in silence.
“I’ll send you Charles. He’s the head of the vamps. He’s been explaining how things work to me,” Jonny said, blinking out of his thoughts. “Is … Jenn here?”
“I can bring her here. She’ll be armed, and I’m leaving her a distress beacon. If it goes off for any reason, I’ll be at your throat with a knife, truce be damned,” Damian said in a low, firm voice. “You understand?”
Jonny looked up, uncertainty crossing his face. He nodded.
“Go get your vamp, and I’ll get my Guardian.” Damian didn’t wait for Jonny to respond but used his magic to Transport himself to the Texas ranch where they’d set up shop after Dusty blew up southern Florida.
“She’ll be okay, Damian,” Sofi’s soft voice greeted him as he opened his eyes. “She’ll have a protector to keep him from killing her, but anyone else you’d send wouldn’t last the week.”
“My own little mini-Watcher,” Damian said, holding out his hand to her. The tension melted from his body at the sight of her petite frame and swirling silver-blue eyes.
She hugged him, and he breathed in her fresh scent. She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him with a smile. Her features had gone from drawn and pale to glowing, the result of his return from Europe after an extended absence and the child growing in her womb.
“What about the vamp I’m bringing into the house?” he asked. “Keep it in the backyard and give it a doghouse?”
“He’ll be fine,” she assured him. “At least, as far as I can See, he’ll be fine.”
“I’m not feeling reassured,” he said with a laugh. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. “How you feeling?”
“Good enough,” she replied, eyes glowing. “Drop off Jenn and come back. You still owe me for the time you were in Europe.”
He kissed her again more deeply and then rested his forehead against hers with a sigh.
“I’ll be quick,
kiri,” he whispered, withdrawing from her cool touch. She smiled.
Damian Transported himself before he ditched his mission for some quality time with his mate. He’d met Jenn once and didn’t know her well enough to know where she’d be. His brother, Darian, however, tended to follow her around like a lost puppy. Damian went to the gym, where Darian spent most of his time. He wasn’t surprised to see the Grey God in the boxing ring with the leggy brunette.
“Darian!” he called. “Take a break. Jenn, c’mon.”
Both figures froze, before Jenn scrambled to obey. She slung a towel over her shoulder and dropped into a deep bow before him. Amused, Damian looked at Darian and tossed his head towards the door. His brother went.
“None of that shit,” Damian said. “I need you to get dressed. I have a special mission for you.”
“Does Dusty …”
“I’ll let him know,” Damian said, well aware of how prickly the assassin got whenever Damian interfered with how he ran the Western Hemisphere.
Jenn rose. The attractive Guardian was toned and muscular, her dark hair kept in a pixie cut and her eyes large and dark. Dusty trusted her for a reason, and if Dusty trusted someone, Damian knew she was the best at what she did. He sensed her Guardian gift: the ability to manipulate minds. It served her well in her position as a spy.
“It’s the Black God, isn’t it?” she asked in a quiet tone.
“How is it I’m always the last to know what’s going on?” Damian growled, crossing his arms.
She looked down and stepped away, trotting to the locker room. He watched her go, suspecting he’d missed more than he thought during the few months he spent with Jule in Europe. He didn’t have time to figure out what, not with the Black God waiting for him to deliver Jenn.
When she returned fully dressed and armed to the teeth, he held out his hand. She took it, and he Transported them to the small storage room.
The Black God whirled from the far side of the room, his gaze immediately going to Jenn. The vamp standing beside Jonny was as big as any of Damian’s Guardians, with eyes that glowed red.
“Hi, Jenn,” the Black God said with some awkwardness that revealed his age.
“Hi Jonny,” she purred.
“Jenn, your mission is to help the Black God root out traitors and find out what the Others are doing,” Damian said, interested in the dynamics between the two. “Train him how to run his own operatives.”
“Czerno had no spy network, ikir,” she said. “You want me to help him set one up?”
“Yep,” Damian said. He exchanged a look with her, and understanding crossed her face.
“Will do, Boss,” she said.
“Charles here has been offered up by Jonny in exchange for your help for a thirty-day ceasefire. You will be safe, or the Black God has my personal promise that I’ll wipe him off the planet.”
“I promise, Damian,” Jonny said quickly. “She’ll be safe.”
The Black God looked like a love-struck teenager, and suddenly Damian understood why Sofi suggested sending Jenn. Jenn crossed to Jonny’s side. The Black God wasn’t able to take his eyes off her. While uneasy, Damian suspected Jenn was seasoned enough to handle the boy for a month.
There was nothing remotely friendly or soft about Charles. The vamp crossed the room to Damian and stood. Gazing at the vamp, Damian couldn’t help thinking he got the shitty end of this deal.
“Does it eat something beside humans?” he asked Jonny.
“I can survive for a month off of small children and animals,” the vamp growled in response.
“Small children are humans. You’ll have to stick with animals,” Damian replied.
“Very well.” The vamp didn’t look pleased.
“We good, Jonny?” Damian called to the Black God.
“Yes, Damian.”
“Let’s go, Charlie,” Damian said and offered his hand to the vamp.
“Charles,” the vamp corrected him.
“Whatever.”
* * *
Jule sensed the intruder shortly after dozing off. He couldn’t tell the time in the windowless room, but he gauged it to be after midnight. His senses tingled, and he dwelled on how his defensive powers almost seemed to work when nothing else did. The only explanation was that the Others weren’t as ready to see him fail as they claimed to be.
The Watchers really wanted him to execute his mission.
He left the room and ascended to the main floor. The manor was silent, except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. He couldn’t sense the Other and paused at the foot of the sweeping, grand staircase leading to the second floor. The manor stretched into three long wings. His instincts told him he needed to find the woman, and he closed his eyes.
When she’d touched him in the alley, she’d left a piece of herself within him. He’d never heard of anything like this happening, but he felt her within the house. He concentrated on the sense. Finally, it spoke to him. He opened his eyes and trotted silently up the stairs, rolling his shoulders back in preparation for a fight with the Other.
Jule chose the center wing and kept to the side of the hallway. Someone else moved silently down the hall ahead of him, and he slowed his stride. The shadowy figure disappeared into an alcove. Jule crept up to the place where the figure had taken refuge and heard the person shift. The hidden stranger lashed out at him. He ducked a fist and maneuvered around a kick, snatching the intruder’s body and shoving it into the wall. At once, he felt the brush of her soft curls against the underside of his chin and smelled her amber-vanilla.
“Why are you creeping around your house?” he whispered.
“How’d you get out?”
He sensed rather than heard movement on the first floor. The woman strained to break his grip, but he held her in place. Her breathing was the only sound in the still hallway. Whatever was in the house, it wasn’t human, or the hair on the back of his neck wouldn’t be standing on end. Their breathing synced, and she stilled.
Jule eased away from her and took her arm. She tried to yank free, and he pulled her body against his, moving them both into the alcove.
“Stop,” he ordered in a quiet voice. “Whatever is here isn’t something you or I can fight.”
She sucked in a breath. Her body fit perfectly against his, warming him in the drafty hall.
“We need to find a way out, and we can’t walk out the front door. Do you understand me?” he asked.
She nodded, straining against him again. He released her, and she hurried away from him into the center of the hall.
Don’t do it! he willed her as she paused.
“Papa!” she shouted and ran towards the stairwell.
Jule wasn’t lucky enough for the creature on the main floor not to hear. He bolted after her and tackled her. The woman fought him, and he hauled her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug, he all but dragged her down the hall.
He sensed the creature ascend the stairs and chose a room at random, shoving it open with his hip. Jule pushed the woman away from the door and slammed it closed. He locked it and looked around.
The woman was halfway out the window on the opposite end of the firelit room. Jule focused first on the nearby wardrobe and braced himself against it. He grunted as he shoved it in front of the door moments before the door bucked under the force of some otherworldly being.
The room smelled familiar, and he realized he’d chosen her room. Any hope he’d had of finding something-- anything!-- to use as a weapon was dashed as he looked around the sparsely decorated room.
He crossed to the window. The Magician had heart. She’d jumped the two stories to the ground and was running towards a large garage. Jule launched himself out the window as the creature made the second blow against the door. He landed on the hard ground with a curse and darted to his feet, chasing her down again. The woman flung open the door to the garage and ran into it. Jule reached it and turned.
The Watcher had sent an immor
tal after the woman, all right. The tall figure loping after them was the equivalent of an immortal pit bull, one of the Watchers’ own elite personal guards.
Jule eased out of the garage and closed the door behind him. The woman was far enough ahead she should be able to escape while he distracted the creature.
“Step aside, mortal,” the guardsman ordered.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jule replied. “You’ll have to kill me to get to her.”
“You won’t last beyond my first punch,” came the scoff. “I warn you again, step aside.”
Jule stretched his neck back and shook out his arms in the cold night. He lowered himself into a fighting stance. The guardsman drew a sword. They circled each other, and Jule waited to hear the sound of a car staring in the garage. The sound didn’t come.
The guardsman struck with nonchalance that told Jule just how much he was being underestimated. Jule moved away from the slicing sword and caught the guardsman’s wrist. He twisted it and unleashed a kick that knocked his opponent off his feet and sent the sword flying.
Jule retrieved it, satisfied to find it light and well balanced. When the guardsman rose, the arrogance was gone from his face, replaced by anger. Jule looked again towards the garage, growing concerned he hadn’t heard a car or garage door motor yet.
The guardsman attacked with a knife in each hand, his movements a flurry of motion. Jule’s instincts took over, and he allowed them to guide his sword and punches. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so … off. His sword defended him as if possessed, yet when he went to strike, he found his blows ill timed and clumsy.
“What are you?” the guardsman demanded, withdrawing.
“Damned if I know,” Jule replied.
The garage door behind him opened, and he whirled. The woman emerged carrying a crossbow. Jule threw himself down as she leveled it and fired. The arrow went over his head and was followed by two more.
“You need to get out of here, sweetheart!” he yelled and rolled to face the guardsman. “You’ll just piss him off.”
