Damian's Oracle (20 page)

“I was getting ready to destroy the
world.”

Cold fear trickled through her. He wasn’t
joking.

“Good thing I felt hungry tonight,” she
said.

He whispered something in his tongue.

“You were right. I was a coward,” he said
after a moment. “My brother loved her with all his soul. She was
all I had left of him.”

She listened, struck by the sorrow in his
voice.

“Such is the weakness of a man,” he added
bitterly.

“You’re not weak, Damian,” she said, propping
her chin on his chest to look up at him. “I’ve seen your soul, you
know.”

“It serves me right. I’ve been spying on the
thoughts of humanity for thousands of years. Guess it’s my
turn.”

“I’m glad you didn’t destroy the world,” she
whispered.

“For the record, you’re fucking crazy. I
could have killed you.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’re there for
me when I need you,” she said. “Even if your attitude sucks.”

He chuckled hoarsely and spread butterfly
kisses across her forehead, hugging her against him even tighter.
She loved being his arms!

“My sweet, pain in the ass oracle. Looks like
it was a good idea bringing you back from the dead after all.”

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to
me!” she cried, offended.

She felt the tension within him melt, and the
restless shadows wrap around her, cocooning them before retreating.
She’d never felt a surrender like his. His guard was down for the
first time since she’d known him. The idea of him being vulnerable
to anyone floored her. From his home videos, he’d never lowered his
guard to anyone, even Claire. Awed by the power she had over him,
she began to understand the extent of his solitary existence for
the millennia of his life. He’d known love and trust only in the
earliest stage of his life, when he had a family before he entered
the dark age of his people. He’d been alone since, except for his
two adopted brothers. He’d never been able to share his pain with
anyone else.

Her stomach growled.

“So you
are
hungry.”

“I’m always hungry,” she grumbled.

“Can’t get enough of me.”

Jackass.

He drew away from her, and she met his black
gaze. Hot desire flowed through her and was mirrored on his face.
His gaze was direct, just short of demanding. She took a step
back.

He offered his wrist, and she knew he was
offering much more. She shook her head, mouth too dry to speak. She
wanted him, God did she want him!

“When I’m ready to destroy the world, you
waltz in like it’s nothing. When it’s just
us
, you run. How
does that work, Sofia?” he challenged in a husky tone.

It was one thing to offer her body, but her
heart, her soul … he would take all of her, consume her completely,
irrevocably. She stood on a ledge, considering a swan dive into the
depths of the universe. As much as she wanted him,
needed
him, she was terrified to take the final step that would make her
his for eternity.

“It’s ok, kiri,” he said, softening. He
touched her hair. “Come to me tomorrow morning. I’m not yet in
control of myself.”

She was more grateful to him in that moment
than she’d ever been. She took his hand and kissed his palm, then
ran to her library, mind racing with what she’d learned about
him.

Damian listened to the door closed behind
her, stunned by what he’d seen in her thoughts. Love. Pure, sweet,
unconditional. For
him
of all things! He’d heard it in her
thoughts even if she didn’t speak the words, and her ability to see
through him as he did everyone else amazed him.

He’d never thought much of that talent, the
ability to see into someone. He’d always found something wrong,
something evil or bad, no matter how small the inclination. Except
in her.

“Brother, come out of the shadows,” he said,
weariness in his voice.

“I wouldn’t intrude.”

“Bullshit. You were making sure I didn’t hurt
her.”

Dusty said nothing but drew abreast of
him.

“Thank you,” he said and leaned again on the
railing. “I hope you’d have kicked my ass if I did.”

“Puh-lease, brother. What makes you think I
didn’t follow to make sure she didn’t chicken out?” Dusty
challenged.

“Glad she passed your test. She probably
doesn’t realize what happens to people who don’t.”

“We’ll keep it that way.”

Damian chuckled despite himself, unable to
shake the negative emotions running through him. He felt both spent
and wired, his head too full of memories to control.

“Are you ok?” Dusty asked.

He drew a ragged breath.

“I am now,” he replied.

“I don’t want a woman, but if I did, I’d want
one like kiri,” Dusty admitted. “I saw the way she looked at you.
Bro,
I’m
in love with her.”

“She’s a lot like you.”

“I don’t cry that much.”

“She’s got your lip.”

Dusty rolled his eyes. Damian regarded him,
reminded again how fortunate he was to have friends like his. Dusty
met his gaze with his clear blues, concerned and relieved.

“It’s been a good week. We found an oracle,
executed some traitors, chased down bad guys, hosted the Quarterly,
and are evac-ing soon.”

“Just when I start to get bored with life,”
Damian agreed. “Jule’s missed most of it.”

“Serves him right. He forgot my birthday
again
.”

“What is it with you and your birthdays?
Every year you bitch about it,” he said, enjoying the distraction
from his dark thoughts.

“I like my birthdays,” Dusty said
defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“If you say so. I don’t even know when mine
is.”

“July 27 on the current calendar. Jule’s is
November 3.”

“You’ve got issues, bro.”

“Fuck you, man,” Dusty said in irritation.
“It’s the little things that count.”

Damian shook his head, comforted by the
little oracle and his BFF.

“You did the right thing,” Dusty said. “Give
yourself a break and get some rest.”

He slapped him on the arm and disappeared.
Damian gazed at the dark landscape. Sleep was as far from his mind
as possible. He thought instead of Claire and Sofia. At one point
after his brother’s death, he’d considered making Claire his queen.
Respect for his brother’s memory stopped him. In hindsight, he
wondered how he’d ever been fooled or why he’d settle for Claire
when there was someone like Sofia out there, who’d love him for him
and not for his title.

He spent the night deep in thought, forcing
himself to face the dark memories he’d tried so hard to bury.

* * *

Two awoke from a dream. He sat up, sweating.
He didn’t remember the dream, but he saw that
kiri
was
crying again.

“It’s ok,
kiri
,” he said.

She’d been quiet for a day or two, going
everywhere with him, a companion in his head who was beyond the
touch of his angry master. She was
his
, and she brought him
a sense of peace.

I’m scared.

It was the first time he’d understand the
words she spoke to him. Two swung his legs off the bed, holding his
breath in case she spoke again. Her voice was tiny and quiet.

I’m scared.

He didn’t know what to do.

“It’s ok,
kiri
,” he said again.

So much death in this world.

“We’re not dead,
kiri
.”

You are.

“I’m not dead. Are you?”

Not anymore.

He rubbed his face, his fingers slowing as he
felt his scars. They were thick and gruesome, creating ridges and
channels in his face. He traced his fingers over the scars on his
hands and followed them up his arms then his chest then his legs.
They were everywhere, like the mountain ranges surrounding their
hideout. He didn’t remember what made the scars, and he didn’t
realize how many there were.

“Maybe I am dead,” he said, tracing the scars
down to his feet.

You are.

He was breathing. He felt the pain of the
last blow his master had given him before bed. His feet were cold,
and he was hungry. Always hungry. Did he ever eat? He wasn’t
allowed to drink the juice he liked anymore.

“No,
kiri
, I am alive,” he said.

He couldn’t sleep when she cried. Two
mechanically dressed himself and left his room. The halls were
quiet. He walked without knowing exactly where he went. The halls
narrowed and sloped, and he knew he’d been this way before even
though he didn’t remember when. He paused before a keypad and
looked at his hand. There were three sets of numbers written in
green ink on his palm. He typed the first in. The door opened and
led to another keypad. He entered the second number and came to the
final keypad. He typed in the last number.

The desert night was cold and dark. He looked
around and found a familiar dirt trail that led to a large rock
overlooking the desert he’d sat on earlier to watch the sunset.

He loved sunsets.

“Is this better,
kiri
?” he asked and
sat on his cold rock.

I don’t like it underground.

He had no choice. He did what his master said
to do.
Kiri
was in his head. She had to do what his master
said, too.

No.

“He will hurt you,
kiri
,” he told
her.

You’ll protect me.

He frowned, troubled. At least his master
couldn’t touch her if she stayed in his head. He’d never have to
worry about protecting her.

His eyes traveled from the desert to the sky.
He clasped his arms behind his head and lay down, impervious to the
cold. The sky was dark, the stars plentiful and bright.

“Do you like the stars?” he asked her.

Yes.

“I think I like them, too.”

But he wasn’t sure yet.

“Slave.”

Two bolted to his feet. The man with eyes the
color of the moss in his room materialized from the shadows.

“Yes, master,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

Two looked around him. He’d found his way
out, but he wasn’t sure how. He looked up and recalled the stars.
He stared, aware
kiri
liked them, too. When he came to see
the stars or watch the sunset, she didn’t cry. Maybe she didn’t
like it underground.

“Slave.”

He jerked, surprised to find his master’s
friend, the one with eyes the color of the moss in his room,
standing before him.

“Yes, master.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Slaves don’t think, master.”

His master’s friend moved closer, and he
silently told
kiri
to be quiet, lest she be heard. She was
on the verge of crying again.

“Do you like the stars?” his master’s friend
asked.

“Yes, we do.”

His master’s friend looked at him for a long
minute.

“Return to your room, slave, and I won’t tell
your master I found you here.”

“Yes, master.”

Two went back to the door and looked at his
hand. He didn’t remember coming this way, but he was sure it was
the way back. He entered three codes and crossed through three
doors, walked down a hall to narrow for him to walk straight, and
retreated to his room.
Kiri
began to cry again.

“Slave.”

He turned when he reached his door. The
master’s friend, the one with eyes the color of the moss in the
corner of his room, stood before him.

“Yes, master.”

“You must take care of
kiri
no matter
what.”

The master’s friend had heard her crying. Two
bowed his head, awaiting a beating that never came. When he looked
up, he was alone. He wondered why he was in the hallway at all and
returned to his room.

“It’s ok,
kiri.
”

I miss the stars.

He didn’t know how to leave the underground
prison, or he’d take her outside to see them. Two sat down on his
bed and stared into the darkness, unable to sleep when she
cried.

“I thought you didn’t eat croissants,” she
said, staring at her bodyguard as she awaited Linda and Traci.

Pierre received a wide berth from the
Starbucks customers, his massive frame standing out even more among
normal sized humans. People stared, women in envy and hunger.
Pierre was beyond handsome with his brooding looks, wind-swept
blond hair, black clothing and trench coat. He was lined with
weapons she’d watched him emplace earlier. His trench coat was too
heavy for her to lift by the time he finished stowing the
weapons.

“Of course I do. I’m French,” he said and
swallowed one whole. “You Americans can’t get it right,
though.”

“At least you can eat them.”

He winked and swallowed another.

“I think Pierre was right about that
sweater,” Linda said as she rejoined them. “I’m glad I didn’t get
it.”

“It made you look ten pounds heavier,” he
reminded her.

“Black isn’t supposed to do that.”

“It’s the material, not the color.”

Traci joined them, coffee in hand, and they
merged into the crowded mall. Pierre stayed on her heels,
guaranteeing her a wide berth. She was grateful to him. His cell
rang, and he answered, eyes always moving.

“Has it been an hour?” she asked. “I forgot
my watch.”

“Yeah, just about. We can make our way back
there,” Traci said. She looked healthier and happier than their
last two encounters, and Linda had let it slip that she and Rainy
were talking again.

“That pocket is for knives, not your shit,”
Pierre snapped as Linda dropped another trinket she’d bought into
one of his pockets.

“The key is knowing that - if you’re not a
bad guy - they can’t do more than bark at you,” Linda confided.

Texting, Traci led them into the jewelry
store. Sofia fingered the cell phone and credit card Damian thrust
into her hands on her way out the door. He’d not said anything to
her since the other night, when he’d almost destroyed the world.
She fed from him silently and made every effort to avoid him in the
meantime. Just thinking of him made her body heat and her heart
flip. She didn’t know what she felt towards him. If her Christmas
gift was any indication, she thought she might be falling for the
brute.