Damian's Oracle (9 page)

He felt Dusty’s gaze on him before it went to
the still woman.

“This is more permanent than marriage,” he
said in a hushed tone.

Damian followed his gaze. He felt fear again,
an emotion he hated. Every instinct in his body ached to feel Sofia
alive again. He didn’t know if she’d understand – or forgive him –
for what he was about to do to her. He didn’t know if
he
understood what he was doing. But seeing her lifeless on the table
made his soul wrench in a way that reminded him …

Darian.

He handed Dusty the knife and pulled off the
high-collared vest to expose his throat.

“Do it,” he ordered.

Dusty obeyed and punctured deep into his
jugular. Damian shoved the other end of the tube into his neck,
releasing his power. He sealed his skin around the tube, forced the
flow downward, and placed his hands on her, forcing her body to
accept his blood. Dizziness made him lean onto the table, and he
loosed his regeneration powers.

Dusty watched in silence. The house was
crashing down around them. He couldn’t transport a dead body.

“D!” Dusty shouted as a chunk of stone
crushed a stainless steel cabinet.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Damian urged, watching for
signs of life in the woman. He forced his blood out faster and
faster.

“We gotta go!” Dusty yelled, slapping him on
the back. “
Now!”

Damian carefully gathered the woman into his
arms and closed his eyes. Dizziness washed over him, and he felt
his body strain to transport. Silence, and he opened his eyes to
find himself kneeling on the NOVA Sector’s kitchen floor.

“D, put her down. Laney, get the defib!”

Her eyes were closed, but color bloomed in
her cheeks.

He ordered his body to cease the transfusion
and pulled the tube from his neck, healing the tear. He gently
removed the tube from the oracle and placed his hand over the wound
to heal it. He touched her face, exhausted for the first time in
years. He leaned against the cabinets behind him.

“Move, D,” Dusty ordered, snatching the
defibrillator from Laney.

He cut her shirt open while it charged and
placed the paddles against her chest. Her body bucked, and her eyes
flew open. The oracle gasped.

Dusty felt for her pulse before resting
against the cabinets opposite him. Damian met his gaze, and they
sat in comfortable silence in the small kitchen, breathing hard as
they recovered.

“Jule’s gonna be pissed we didn’t invite
him,” Dusty said at last and pulled off his gloves, tossing
them.

“He would’ve tried to talk us out of it
anyway,” Damian said. “He’s not as violent as us, bro.”

“I think you mean as
me,
” Dusty
corrected him, then chuckled. “Congrats, ikir. You figure out how
to train an oracle?”

“No fucking clue,” Damian admitted with a
ruthless grin.

“May the gods help you. I sure can’t.”

“What is she?” Laney asked, returning to the
kitchen.

Damian rose and pulled Dusty to his feet.

“That, Laney, is my oracle,” he said. “Watch
her for a bit while we go back and clean up what’s left of Czerno’s
goons.”

Laney’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at
the unconscious, blood spattered woman.

“Yes, ikir,” he murmured and knelt, lifting
Sofia off the ground. “I’ll take care of her.”

* * *

She stared at the sunbeams moving across the
ceiling, not remembering where she was or how she arrived. Her
memories wiggled their way out of the mud of her mind, and she sat
upright. She was alive! She touched her face, her arms, her body.
At the memory of the pain, she began to shake.

It’s over!!

Yet the sensation of fire creeping through
her remained. She suddenly realized the curtains were open, and the
sun streaming into her window didn’t hurt her eyes. Her memories
overshadowed, she threw open the curtains. She shoved the cracked
balcony door all the way open. She bathed in the mid morning sun.
Morning air had never tasted so wonderful! She didn’t have to wear
sunglasses indoors anymore, didn’t have to hide from moonlight!

“You look good.”

She whirled, heart leaping at the sound. Han
sat in the corner of her room nearest the door.

“I can go outside!” she exclaimed. “I’m
cured!”

She looked again at the sunlit courtyard
beyond her window.

“I’m
here
again,” she murmured,
troubled, and faced Han. “I’m … transformed?”

Han nodded grimly.

“Isn’t that good?” she prodded. “Isn’t it
what you all wanted?”

“It is,” he confirmed.

“You don’t look happy.”

“It all turned out well, I guess,” he said at
last. “As long as you’re ok?”

“I am. I can go outside again.”

She sat to pull on shoes and saw the scars
around her wrists, evidence of her fight against the bindings
Julian used to strap her onto the table.

“Han, what happened to me?”

“It’s better you don’t remember.”

“I
do
remember. At least, part of it I
remember. Jilian injected me with something to kill me,” she
paused, shuddering at the flash of residual pain from the memories.
“Did he succeed?”

“Yes.”

“So I died?”

“You did.”

Her eyes closed at the bizarre news. How many
peopled lived to hear they’d died?

“What happened then?”

“Ask Damian.”

She shuddered, afraid to face him after
ditching him as she had before. No doubt he’d had to do some
terrible things to free her from Czerno.

“Is Jilian dead?”

“Damn straight.”

“I told him so,” she said softly, disturbed.
“Is Damian ok?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“We lost Jake.”

Jake’s death flashed through her
thoughts.

“Jilian killed him,” she said.

“Yes.”

Because of me.
Sofia slumped. As much
as Jake annoyed her, he was still her friend. And he’d brought her
somewhere where she could be safe.

“Han, can I be alone?”

He complied. Sofia crawled into bed and cried
again. She’d not only seen his death - she’d
caused
it! Her
heart ached for her friend. She cried until she was too tired to
cry more and drifted into a vision, reliving the few moments she
spent with Jilian.

You must die first.

…
an oracle must be bound …

for all eternity …

Fire.

She jerked out of the memory with a cry. Han
slammed the door open, and she squeezed her eyes closed, expecting
the light from the hallway to hurt her. When it didn’t, she
uncurled herself from the ball she was in. His gaze swept over her
before he retreated outside her door.

It was dark outside. She’d wasted her first
day of light. She forced herself out of bed, exhausted and hungry.
She took a shower and padded through the quiet mansion to the
kitchen.

“At least I don’t crave peanut butter
anymore,” she murmured as she went through the contents of the
fridge.

In fact, she didn’t crave
anything
anymore. Her stomach grumbled but the thought of a ham sandwich
disgusted her. She made one anyway and forced herself to eat it,
blaming her recent trauma for her queasiness.

Five minutes later, she bent over a toilet
paying homage to the porcelain gods.

“My God!” she gargled between bouts of
heaving.

Han watched, handing her a wet wash cloth
when she was done.

“Han!” she wailed. “What’s wrong with
me?”

“Ask Damian.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she muttered.

Though nauseated by the thought, she heated
up a can of soup and forced herself to eat it. The soothing warmth
slid down her throat. Five minutes later, it returned, scorching
her throat on the way out.

She wiped her mouth again and flung the rag
against the wall, chest heaving.

“Han, please,” she begged. “What can I
eat?”

“Damian’s in his room. Go see him,” Han said,
concerned yet unyielding.

“Does he have food?”

“More or less.”

“It better be a feast,” she growled and
stood. She returned to her room to clean herself up, cursing peanut
butter for ruining her appetite as she went.

A sense of dread filled her as she approached
Damian’s room. Han hung back, and she turned to him as she
knocked.

“Are you coming?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

If Damian hadn’t opened the door, she would
have run back to her room. Han was as big as the man before her,
and if he feared him …

Damian’s gaze swept over her. A burst of need
washed over her as her body responded to his scent.

“Are you well?” he asked with a brusqueness
that caught her off guard. His face was guarded.

She swallowed hard and nodded, struggling to
control the strange sense of desire bubbling uncontrolled within
her.

“Han said I should see you,” she said.

At his long look, she backed away from the
door.

“I’ll come back later.”

He threw open the door and walked away. She
hesitated, sensing that entering his domain would somehow seal her
to a fate she didn’t yet understand.

I owe it to Jake
.

Damian turned down the stereo blasting trance
music and faced her, crossing his arms as she closed the door.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said again,
unable to see his face in the shadows of the dimly lit room.

“It’s fine.”

“Damian, I’m so sorry about Jake,” she said,
voice cracking and fading into a whisper. “He’s been my friend for
almost t..ten years. I’m so sorry.”

He emerged from his defensive position,
pausing near her. She wiped her eyes.

“I saw what Jilian did to him and what you
did to Jilian. I saw what Jilian did to everyone and Czerno …“

She closed her eyes. Damian rested his hands
on her shoulders. The images left.

“I didn’t know there were such people in this
world.”

“They’re not people,” he told her. “Jake’s
death is not your fault.”

“But it is. If I stayed here, he wouldn’t
have come to save me and died.”

“Jake was a warrior, one of my loyal
Guardians. I mourn him, but he died doing what he was trained to
do. No warrior wants to die of old age.”

“He deserved better.”

“You’ve been dropped into the middle of a war
no human knows about. Men like Jake wouldn’t want to die any other
way than honorably defending people like you.”

He touched her face, and her mouth went dry.
Not trusting herself, she refused to look at him and instead
wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated before hugging her.
Engulfed in his heat and scent, she relaxed. He felt like home. No,
better. He felt like a piece of heaven!

Her stomach grumbled loudly again.

“You’re hungry,” he said, withdrawing.

“I’ll get something later,” she said,
surprised when he retreated across the room again. “Is everything
ok?”

“Wonderful,” was the sarcastic response.

Confused by his moods, she watched him cross
to a thick goblet where a knife lay beside it.

“I’ll go now.”

“You are about to confront your new reality,”
he said. His tone made her back towards the door.

“C’mere.”

She shook her head, fear spiraling through
her.

“Sofia, what’s done can’t be undone, even if
you want it so.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I told you I’d never hurt you,” he said in a
softer tone.

“I’m not feeling reassured right now!” she
retorted.

He left the corner and approached her,
stopping when she took a step back. He held out his hand.

“C’mere,” he said more gently. “I promise not
to harm you.”

She hung in indecision for a long moment
until she recalled that being in his arms was the only place she
ever found peace. She placed her hand in his. He tugged her forward
until their bodies met. Her blood surged with desire, her breathing
quickening. She stared at his chest, afraid again to look up.

“Jilian killed you,” he said, wrapping his
arms around her in a secure hug.

She leaned into him, at peace yet hyped up on
adrenaline and desire.

“He said he was going to drain all my blood
out.”

“And he did. I brought you back.”

“How?”

“With my blood. My blood runs through your
veins. You need it to live.”

“Of course I need blood to live,” she said
with a nervous laugh.

“It’s the deepest bond my … our kind can
share and one that Czerno had in store for you.”

You must die first.

…
an oracle must be bound …

for all eternity …

“You will never hunger for food nor thirst
for water. I think you found out what eating does to you?”

She said nothing, her heart
somersaulting.

“It’s also a bond that folks in my position
have to be careful about taking on, because it leaves me
vulnerable. That can be an issue when you don’t know how to fight.
You make an easy target.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she agreed. “Are you
going to teach me to fight?”

“Maybe. We have to get through this
first.”

She didn’t want to ask but did.

“Through what?”

His grip tightened around her, and she
resisted the urge to push him away and flee. He pulled the knife
from his pocket, flipped it inward, and sliced into the tender
flesh of his wrist.

Horror and hunger surged through her. The
scent of his blood was more intoxicating than a shitload of vodka
on a Friday night. She craved him in a way that nearly crippled
her.

“Oh God!” she whispered raggedly. “No! No,
no, no!”

“You have no choice,” he said with calmness
that terrified her. “You’ll die without it.”

“Let me go!”

She shoved against him as hard as she could,
knowing when he released her it was because he wanted to. She tore
out of his room, the scent of his blood ensnared in her senses.