Damian's Oracle (6 page)

“You’re right – she does ask a lot of
questions,” Han said.

“See?!” Jake exclaimed. “I told you!”

“New rule, Sofia. If you have questions, ask
D. We’re not at liberty to discuss much with you.”

Frustrated, Sofia stormed out of the library.
Standing in the hall, she couldn’t stop the fear that slid through
her. This world …
their
world … was nothing like what she
knew. She felt like she stood at the door of a plane fifteen
thousand feet in the air getting ready to sky dive, only she didn’t
remember packing a parachute. Her headache was gone for the first
time in months, though she felt cold inside.

She put on her sunglasses and started towards
the one part of the house Han had warned her away from: the patio
that led into the gardens. God help her, she was going into the
sunlight no matter how much it hurt!

The light beyond the solid French doors made
her flinch, but she forced herself through. The shaded patio was as
wide as the mansion with two small outdoor bars and groups of
chairs around tables. Signs of the party the night before still
remained from the garbage bags awaiting pick up to one table with
two wine glasses still present.

She began to sweat before reaching the door
leading from the patio to the green blur that was the gardens over
which the patio overlooked. She couldn’t make out what was in the
garden, but she heard the sounds of fountains and saw the dark
green blur of a forest in the distance. By the time she reached the
patio door, her skin was clammy and her heart racing.

She emerged into the bright light of a warm
December afternoon and began to melt. There was no denying the
sensation of sweat dripping off her body. She closed her eyes
against the sunlight and took another two steps into the garden.
Grass tickled her toes.

It was
hot
!!

She retreated to the patio then fled into the
house, relieved when the sun was gone. Tears stung her eyes.

“You ok?” Han asked.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she
growled. “No, I’m not ok! What normal person can’t go outside? You
all kidnapped me, drugged me, dragged me to Arizona – if I’m really
in Arizona – and you won’t tell me why or what’s wrong with me! And
you know what else? I hate peanut butter. Hate it, hate it, hate
it, and I can’t stop eating it! I hate it!”

Embarrassed by her words and the tears
streaming down her face, she ran past him to the stairs and up,
issuing a cry of frustration when she realized she didn’t know
which of the three wings led to her room.

“Turn right, three doors on the left,” Han
called.

She followed his directions, slammed her door
closed, and locked it. She collapsed onto her bed and sobbed, the
man in the corner sobbing with her.

Outside her room, Han whipped out his phone
with an irritated sigh.

Your oracle’s a pain in the ass.
Damian glanced at the text message from Han before his gaze
returned to the small base camp tucked between two ridges in the
Tucson Mountains.

“Wish you had good news for me,” he said.

The base camp housed the emergency response
helicopters for Tucson and neighboring sectors and was manned with
a skeletal crew of Guardians and one on-duty pilot, a Natural who’d
been trained to fly.

Rainy, a brooding Guardian with striking
green eyes and a shock of dark hair, was his youngest station chief
at a youthful two thousand years old. Damian followed him across
the dusty landing pads to the helo-hangar. His phone dinged, and he
looked down at one of the zillion text messages he received from
any number of his Guardians every day.

Logistical arrangements for Quarterly
completed.

He tucked the phone away.

“We didn’t catch on until one of the new
Naturals we just discovered was able to track them,” Rainy
continued.

“A tracker?” Damian asked, impressed.
“Impressive. Haven’t seen one in a few thousand years.”

“That’s what Han said. Good timing. Had to be
a woman.”

Damian looked at him, touching his thoughts
long enough to realize Rainy’d
volunteered
to take on the
bodyguard assignment to the beautiful woman in his thoughts. He hid
a smile as Rainy turned to him.

“Four safehouses in six days have been
destroyed,” he said. “All in Tucson.”

Damian sobered, troubled by the news. It was
how the destruction of the European front started. The safehouses
dropped like flies, then the spy network, then the sector
headquarters. The pattern was dangerous, especially since he didn’t
know where the leaks were coming from.

“How many men you need?” he asked.

“To maintain our operations, three more. To
get ahead of the vamps … “ Rainy shook his head. “At this rate, I
don’t know. Trac - the Natural tracker was able to identify
patterns in the attacks. Ikir, they’re using our tactics against
us.”

Damian crossed his arms. It was the worst
news yet. One of his Guardians was training the enemy.

“Traci’s found signs of the vamps’
surveillance around two more of our safehouses. None at your HQ yet
or Sector HQ.”

No one could find his HQ unless they were on
the guest list, or one of his Guardians revealed its location. He
maintained a shield around it that made it invisible to those who
didn’t know where it was.

“Burn the safehouses. That’s six. How badly
is it impacting you?”

Rainy rubbed the back of his neck,
pensive.

“It leaves us with two, plus Sector HQ. Ikir,
I think Tucson Sector is going to be completely compromised by
Christmas.”

Damian was coming to the same conclusion.

“The Quarterly is coming up in a week,” he
said. “I relocate HQ after each one for security reasons. We’ll
evac all Naturals and Guardian assets from Tucson Sector after the
Quarterly and send in a clean-up crew.”

Rainy nodded, a look of relief crossing his
features, and Damian saw his mind was on his Natural ward,
Traci.

“I love clean up duty,” he said with a
cunning smile.

Most Guardians did, including Dusty, who
personally oversaw every one in his hemisphere. Damian issued few
clean-up orders, for there was no way to maintain the discretion
his Guardians needed to mask their shadow operations protecting
humanity. It was loud and dirty, the type of work they’d ceased two
centuries before when human civilization exploded and
globalized.

He thought hard. First Europe, then Tucson
Sector. His mind traveled to the sexy oracle, and he wondered if
she’d be anything like the oracles from his father’s time. If so,
he might have the key to crippling the cancer afflicting his
operations.

If she survived her transformation, that
is.

“Keep me updated, and alert the neighboring
sectors,” he ordered. “How many naturals you got in Tucson?”

“Two.”

“If you need to send them to HQ or want to
evac Sector HQ, go ahead. Don’t worry about knocking. I’ll let Han
know you all may be in.”

“Thank you, Ikir,” Rainy’s voice was quiet,
and Damian sensed his heartfelt gratitude.

“Gods, she’s got you mewling already,” he
couldn’t resist saying.

Rainy tensed.

“No disrespect, Rain-man. Happy for you.”

“You’re not upset?” he asked warily. “Dustin
says … “

“… women are the true scourge of mankind. I
know,” Damian replied. “He tells me all the time.”

“Actually, he said no relationships with
Naturals,” Rainy said, giving him an odd look.

Damian laughed.

“If there’s one thing that drives Dustin
crazy, it’s being kept in the dark. Let him know
now
, before
he accidentally finds out,” he advised.

“Yes, Ikir.”

Even the younger Guardians referred to him by
the ancient title that meant
my king.
He’d long since lost
any lofty delusions, but Dusty was a stickler for discipline and
details.

His phone dinged with a message from Han.

I don’t know what to do with a crying
woman.

He snorted.

“Gotta go, Rain-man. Call Dustin. I’ll
arrange for evacs and a clean-up crew.”

“Yes, Ikir.”

He started to transport himself to the
oracle’s room but thought better of it. She was scared enough. He
opened his eyes to face Han outside her closed door. His normally
stoic XO appeared irritated.

“She won’t come out, won’t eat,” he said.
“Gods, I forgot how difficult it is raising Naturals.”

Damian clapped him on the arm and opened the
door. Her curtains were down to seal away the sunlight, and she was
curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed with her back to the
door. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, and her blonde hair fanned out
over a pillow. The unusual sense of tenderness unfurled again in
his breast. He sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing one blonde
lock from her face.

Her eyes were swollen and red, the silver
glowing in the dim light of the room. Fear and uncertainty crossed
her features. The images in her mind were of a little boy dying in
the street, of Jake’s death, of the deaths of many others. At his
touch, her visions quieted.

She closed her eyes and uncurled. He’d
expected her original reaction to him to be born of shock, but she
wrapped her arms around him once again. His body responded with a
surge of desire he gritted his teeth against. The woman in his arms
was too delicate, too vulnerable to face the lusty beast within
him. Instead he shifted and wrapped an arm around her.

He was beginning to like these peaceful
encounters. He’d never known anything like them in his long
existence.

“You need to eat.”

“No.”

“If Han hasn’t told you, when I give an
order, no one disobeys me,” he said firmly. “Even crying
women.”

“Do you make many women cry?”

“You’d be surprised.”

She withdrew her face from his chest and
looked up at him, her silver-blue eyes filled with emotion. He
couldn’t recall seeing anyone as much as an open book as this
woman. Her gaze was unusually steady and clear, as if she were
already a legendary oracle capable of seeing through whatever was
before her. The air around her shimmered with subtle, calm power
that thrilled him.

No, this oracle wasn’t another Claire, full
of potential but unable to use most of her abilities. This was an
oracle the world hadn’t seen since before the Schism, the type of
oracle that belonged at her king’s side.

Darian.

The woman in his arms ducked her head again
and closed her eyes, missing the flash of darkness that crossed his
mind and face. He pushed the thought of his slain brother away but
couldn’t escape the lingering sense of unease. There were only two
men in the world he’d entrust with his life. He’d seen from burying
his brother that a king’s greatest weakness was the woman at his
side.

Something about the woman made him think of
things he’d not thought about in ages. There was a reason he banned
thoughts of Darian and Claire from his mind, an instinct he’d never
been able to face in all the years since Darian’s death.

I don’t know if I trust my wife, brother.

Darian’s words haunted him again, and he
quickly suppressed the memories.

“Sleep,” he whispered, releasing a warm burst
of power into her.

Her body obeyed. He held her another minute,
resting his chin on her head. His new oracle was dangerous. He’d
almost forgotten that the word for oracle in his native tongue also
meant soul-reader, the dual nature of a woman with her talent
allowing her to see a person’s soul and future with a simple touch.
Her presence alone was already prodding free memories he’d thought
he’d buried.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized that
the last great oracle, his mother, appeared just before the Schism,
when the universe was almost destroyed.

The clang of steel and sound of jeering drew
her from her book to her window. Several of the beefy men living in
the house were in the grassy, well-lit courtyard, sparring with
swords, knives, and other weaponry that looked like it came
straight out of the Middle Ages.

Three pairs of two fought while the others
cheered or jeered them on. Her gaze swept over them, stopping to
rest on Damian. D wore judo pants low enough on his hips that she
blushed as her gaze followed the trail of hair that disappeared
into his pants. His tapered waist and hips and washboard abs were
on display, along with the wide chest and thick back. She watched
him move, his swordplay as graceful and fluid as it was lethal. A
sheen of sweat coated his body, and his white-blond hair was back
in a braid.

Even from a distance he drew her, and it was
not just the chiseled body of a god. She could see him sitting on a
golden throne or commanding legions of soldiers.

In fact, she
did
see him in those
positions, and in many more. The visions were less invasive than
those from others, like background music at a department store. She
closed her eyes, watching the disjointed, fuzzy home videos playing
in her mind. She saw a time before the emergence of human
civilization and his people ruled, a time when he was a prince
among kings who grew up in the shadow of a war she couldn’t see.
Then there was the Schism and an era of disaster and grief, where
his world collided with - then severed from - the human one,
centuries where he was forced into the underground world as a
prostitute, a beggar, a thief.

As silence fell from the courtyard, she
opened her eyes. The men were dispersing, and her heart leapt when
she saw Damian’s gaze riveted to her window. His look was intense,
much different than the warmth he’d displayed the day before.

The images in her mind were too real to be
imagined. Nothing like that could be true!