by Lizzy Ford
“I’ll have this mess cleaned up,” Xander said when he’d finished.
The Black God nodded. His face was drawn as he strode past Jenn. Her gaze went from him to the vamp on the other side of the room staring her down. He flipped the knife in his hand.
“Jenn,” Jonny called.
“On my way,” she replied then addressed Xander. “I never met a vamp who tried to keep a Guardian alive.”
He sheathed his knife and crossed to her. She refused to back down, unwilling to let his attempt to intimidate her work.
“Let’s just say, you’re not the only one here with a hidden agenda,” he replied. “I know what you’re doing here, Guardian. Remember your place, or I’ll make the Black God look like your fairy godmother.”
He breezed by her again. She’d met enough Guardians and vamps to know how unique each was, but she’d never met a creature like this one. She shook her head and trotted after Jonny, who paced madly in the hall.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Jenn, I think … I’m not sure what to do.”
“Jonny, hon, let me tell you one thing,” she said and approached close enough she was certain no one else could overhear her. “Don’t say things like that. You need to pretend you know what to do, even if you don’t. These things will eat you alive.”
“They can’t kill me.”
“There are things worse than death,” she reminded him.
He smiled faintly and nodded, striking off down the hall towards his private wing of the underground facility. She trailed him, slowing when she turned the corner leading to his apartments.
Xander stood before the Black God’s quarters. Two more vamps assigned as Jonny’s guards stood on either side of the door to his personal chambers. The massive vamp ignored her, and she saw Jonny stop to speak to him. Xander gave a quick bow in response before meeting her gaze with a look that warned her she wouldn’t like what Jonny had just told him to do. Her sense of dread grew as she approached and followed Jonny into his apartment.
The door closed behind her, and the young Black God threw himself into a large leather chair in the middle of the living room.
“I saw what he was hiding,” Jonny started, features troubled once again. “But I don’t understand it.”
“What was it?” she asked and sat across from him.
“The Others are acquiring a weapon, but … it didn’t seem quite right. The vamp said something about splitting the sky.”
Jenn dwelled on his words. They meant little to her, but to Damian, they could mean something.
“Maybe I misunderstood. I’ve never been in anyone’s mind before.”
“You can only know what the vamp did,” Jenn said. “I don’t know what it means, either.”
“I need some time alone,” Jonny said abruptly and rose, facing away from her.
“I’ll go to the gym. Let me know when you need anything,” she said. His mood swings weren’t unexpected. He was young and scared. Itching to relieve some of her own nervous energy after the run-in with the vamps, she’d reached the door when Jonny spoke again.
“Jenn, thank you for helping me today.”
“It’s why I’m here,” she replied.
“You defended me. My own vamps won’t do that.”
“It’ll take a while for you to adjust and for them to adjust to someone new.”
“Thank you for your loyalty. I never imagined any Guardian would go to the extent that you have. I’m happy you’re among us. I’ll treat you well, as long as you remain loyal.”
She frowned at his tone, as if he considered her the newest, permanent member of his organization and not the guest she was. Jenn left without saying anything, once again unable to get a read on the kid. Sometimes, when he was afraid, he was easy for her to understand. Sometimes he gave her the creeps, and she suspected he was sharper than he let on.
She stopped in the hallway and turned. Xander trailed her.
“Making sure you go where you say you will,” he said. She turned her back on him in blatant disregard he wasn’t likely to misinterpret.
The number of female vamps outnumbered the number of female Guardians, and she ducked into the locker room for the females. Ignoring the hisses of the others, she locked herself in a bathroom stall and texted her boss, Dusty.
Others have a weapon. Want to split the heavens. Something weird going on here.
Dusty’s response was quick. Roger. You ok?
Jenn snorted, wondering how she explained there was only one vamp in an entire organization of inhuman blood suckers that gave her the creeps. In the end, she typed a smiley face and locked her phone before changing into gym clothes and making her way to the gym.
The instincts that warned her Jonny wasn’t as naïve as he seemed were confirmed when she stepped into the gym and saw Xander standing in the doorway, watching her. The boy-god was taking no chances she betrayed him. Looking over the largest vamp she’d ever seen, she had a feeling a confrontation between them wouldn’t end well for her.
* * *
Jule was beginning to think death was better than his weakened state. He’d managed to add more wood to the fire and tear the stitches in his chest while doing so. Soup was out of the question; it might as well have been a million miles away in the kitchen. He rested against the cushions. He’d never been human, and he had no idea how long it took for a human body to heal. It seemed like too long already, especially since the woman was alone to protect herself.
His dream, the one about the Original Vamp, hadn’t returned. It seemed too real, and he’d dwelled long on what he could remember of the conversation.
Xander. Original Beings.
“Jule?” Darian’s voice jarred him out of his thoughts. “You here?”
“Yeah, Darian,” he called.
Darian emerged from the kitchen, trailed by a small, shapely woman with dark, curly hair tied in a ponytail. Jule’s gaze fell to the necklace she wore.
“Dusty’s mate?” he asked, looking her over again. Her smile was quick and warm, her brown eyes dancing. “I thought you’d be more like Attila the Hun.”
“I’m Bianca,” the woman said in a voice as soft as her eyes.
Jule wasn’t sure what to expect when she knelt beside him. Cool, healing energy coursed through him, lulling him into a near doze.
“Done!” she announced. “I can’t take away the weakness you feel, but your body is healed.”
“How the hell did Dusty end up with someone like you?” he asked and looked down at himself, impressed.
She laughed, a contagious sound, and he saw her effect even on Darian, who had relaxed and sat in a chair nearby. Her presence would have the same calming effect on Dusty, who was the most wound-up man Jule knew.
“Her brother’s the Black God,” Darian said out of nowhere.
“Always knew women were a curse,” Jule said.
“Darian,” Bianca objected. “Remember what Dusty said. No stressing Jule out.”
Darian rolled his eyes.
“I’m a grown man, woman, I can take it,” Jule said with a snort.
“You probably shouldn’t be fighting anyone until you’re better,” she said. “Though I’ve learned none of you will listen to that advice.”
“You keep giving it. It’s always nice to know someone cares,” Jule replied. “And I bet you never shot Dusty or ran him over with a car.”
“That little girl did this?” Darian asked, eyes narrowing.
“In her defense, she thought I was trying to kill her.”
“Were you?”
“Yeah, at one point,” Jule said. “She’s been told some real fucked-up stuff about the Guardians.”
“Well, if you tried to kill her, you probably didn’t help things,” Darian said wisely.
Jule ignored him and tested his body. He rose and stretched, stiff and weak but healed. He hadn’t seen a Healer since before the Schism and offered his hand to Bianca. She took it, and he pulled her up.
<
br /> “I think you need to get back there,” Darian added, frowning. “Some weird shit’s going on with the Others. One of Dusty’s spies found out the Others have a weapon they want to use, we think to open the gateway between the immortal and mortal worlds.”
“One of the Watchers told me similar. I can’t get close enough to anything to learn more without getting myself killed. You have any insight into why my power is jacked up?” Jule asked.
“I broke something, I think. The Watchers are pissed at me. They’re not talking to me right now.”
“You’re in good company. They’re the ones who told me to kill the girl.”
“Really?” Darian’s interest was piqued. “I’ll ask Sofi about that.” He exchanged a look with Bianca.
“We can fix you, Jule,” she said, turning to him. “We experimented on Dusty.”
“The Watchers stripped the Guardians of power, but their base of power is in the immortal realm. I’m not, uh, restricted to either realm,” Darian said. “I seem to be coloring outside the lines in every way possible. I can do things Damian and the Black God can’t.”
“Like restore something the Watchers took?” Jule asked, surprised.
“With Bianca’s help. We can’t restore everything, but we can give you back most of your powers.”
“Do it.”
“You may not be strong enough yet,” Bianca said, considering.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea. I’ll be fine,” he said in amusement.
“If he survived as a human, he’ll survive this,” Darian seconded. “I’ll rip you open, and Bianca will heal you.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes but she held out a hand to Jule. Darian held out his as well, and Jule took both their hands, at once bombarded with Bianca’s cool energy and Darian’s hot energy. The sensations whipped through him, reminding him how human he really was. It wasn’t like the Magician’s magic, which somehow fused with his, as if they were one person sharing one source of power.
Maybe even one soul.
“Fuck!” he muttered, dropping to his knees. Cool and warm turned to frigid and blazing, and he felt their powers coalesce at his core, forcing something open that had been closed by the Watchers. Darian’s power burned while Bianca’s healed the invisible wounds created by the Grey God. The pain increased until Jule was near passing out. Suddenly, it stopped, and his own warm power flooded him. He released their hands, panting.
Jule sat back on his haunches, dizzy with the abrupt return of his power. It settled into him, and he flexed it.
“Don’t do that too much,” Darian warned. “We’re trying to lay low and not attract the attention of the Watchers.”
We could use the help of a couple of Original Beings. The thought came from nowhere, and Jule thought again of the vamp from his fever dream.
“Everyone on the planet is out to get this girl. I doubt I’ll have a choice soon,” he replied.
“I can use her, Jule.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I might be able to seal the breach I made, if it doesn’t get bigger and I can borrow Damian’s power. I touched her so she could show me where you were, and I felt what she can do,” Darian said. “You gotta keep her alive while Damian figures out what to do.”
“I will,” Jule said. “If I fought off a guardsman as a human, I can take on an Other with my powers back.”
“Or die trying.”
“That, too.”
“You men really are crazy,” Bianca said. “Not an ounce of common sense in any of you.”
“Just fighting for a higher cause,” Jule said with a smile. “You married an assassin. Of all of us, your mate’s the worst.”
“Retired assassin,” she corrected sweetly. “He’s not allowed to kill people anymore.”
Jule laughed. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah,” Darian said. “Some things have changed. She’s a slave driver. Dusty’s not allowed out of his room without her-- ”
“Darian!” she said with a laugh. She punched him in the arm, and he feigned a look of pain.
Jule’s throat tightened as he listened to the two of them spar verbally. Darian had been a shell of a man when Sofi found him several months ago. Now there was life and light in his eyes, even if he wasn’t quite the man Jule remembered. He carried on with Bianca like the sister she now was, and Jule couldn’t help feeling a sense of gratitude towards the small woman with the quick smile, warm gaze, and healing energy. Between her and Sofi, they’d brought Darian back from the dead.
“I’ll let you two fight this out,” Jule said with a smile. “I’ve gotta get to the station. Thank you both, and send my regards to D and Dusty.”
Jule closed his eyes, relishing in the ability to Transport himself once more. No more walking across Ireland for him! When he opened his eyes, he found a gruesome sight awaiting him.
“Been trying to call you, Jule,” the blond Guardian said from his seat on the couch. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sean’s dead. I found his body behind his bar. I don’t know what did this to him, but it wasn’t a human or a vamp. Whatever it was, it tore him in half.”
Jule’s gaze dropped to the blanket-covered body laid carefully on the living room floor. His smile faded.
* * *
Damian tapped the knife against his boot, deep in thought. The computer screen before him was blank, but he didn’t notice.
“You want me to kill Jule,” he repeated at long last.
“Yes, ikir. He refused to do as we said and kill his target. He’s a threat to the survival of the Guardians, if he chooses to protect her,” the Watcher said.
“Let’s pretend for a moment that I actually believe anything you’re saying,” he said. “There’s no benefit for anyone if Jule is killed. So what if he failed at taking out a target?”
“If he chooses to protect this target from us-- ”
“First,” Damian said, standing, “Jule doesn’t take orders from you. Second, if he didn’t execute his target, he has a damned good reason. I trust him over you without question. What I really want to know is why Jule is of any interest to you at all.”
The Watcher was silent.
“If you can’t answer that, then I’m not going to help you,” Damian said. “And the girl? She looked far less harmless than the Other. Why aren’t you going after the Other?”
“We can’t track them in the mortal realm,” the Watcher said. “If you let Jule live, you must kill her. There is no other way to keep the Other from destroying everything.”
As much as he hated these creatures, he had to admit that they often led him in the right direction. Damian would never kill his brother, Jule, but if the woman was dangerous enough to warrant a Watcher’s attention, he couldn’t look the other way.
She’d looked harmless to him, beautiful and scared.
“So I have to do my job because you can’t do yours,” he summarized. “I’ll send Dusty.”
“Thank you, ikir,” the Watcher said. “In time, I hope to provide more answers.”
Damian didn’t respond, silently cursing the being. Satisfied it was getting what it wanted, the Watcher left him alone. The more Damian dealt with them, the less he wanted to deal with them again. The fact the mysterious creatures could find him whenever they wanted made him cautious about outright opposing them. Still, he wanted them out of his hair-- permanently.
Damian sought out Sofi, both for her calming influence and any tidbits of what she might’ve Seen. She was in the kitchen with Bianca and looked up with a smile when he entered.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked. He rested his hand on her expanding stomach and his chin on her head.
“Great.”
“Bianca, my son will need a playmate. You and Dusty better catch up,” Damian teased his brother’s mate.
“Dusty is just now on good terms with my cat,” Biana replied. “I think a kid is a while down the road!”
Damian looked down at Sofi and raised an eyebrow.
She winked. He hugged her, a darker thought crossing his mind as he held her and their child close. If the Watchers could find him, they could find her-- and their son. His desire to expel the Watchers from the planet solidified. He could handle the Black God, at least for the time being. Jenn would come back with enough information on the Black God’s organization, that Damian could counter the fledgling god for quite some time. The Watchers, however, were a different story entirely. He had no recourse against them yet.
“You don’t need to worry about us,” Sofi said quietly.
“The world is going to shit, and you’re telling me not to worry.”
“Sometimes the answer is right in front of you. You’re just too stubborn to see it.”
He pushed her away from him, eyeing her. She smiled faintly and lifted her chin towards the kitchen door. Damian turned in time to see the vamp Charlie struggling to drag a skinned deer carcass across the threshold. The vamp dropped it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Damian demanded.
“It’s okay, Damian,” Bianca said quickly. “We have a system. He catches deer, drains them of blood, skins them, and I cook ’em up for dinner.”
“That’s where our venison is coming from?”
“It’s better than letting him kill the neighboring rancher’s cows or my rescue animals.”
“I fucking hate housework,” the vamp said with a growl. “You make me do woman’s work, ikir.”
Damian looked the vamp over. It had taken Dusty two days to drill a routine and sense of discipline into the vamp, which was one day too many to the schedule-addicted assassin. Damian, however, was impressed he was able to do it at all. Vamps weren’t known for their smarts.
“So Charlie just roams free in the house?” he asked.
“Charles,” the vamp corrected him.
“He really doesn’t like being called Charlie,” Sofi echoed. “He’s a person of sorts, too, Damian.”
“I’m keeping him safe from the women, ikir,” Pierre, Sofi’s bodyguard, added. The large, blond Guardian was rarely more than five feet from his charge and sat in the corner.
