The Grey God (War of Gods 4) (6 page)

“You’re as much a wild animal as they are,” Damian agreed. “What’s up, Darian? You need anything?”

“I made a decision.”

Damian sat back, waiting curiously.

“Last week, in Ireland, something happened to me,” Darian started. “I always wondered why you and Jonny had power and I didn’t have anything. That’s changed now. I’ve found it. I don’t know how to use it yet, but I want to learn. And I think I …” He struggled with the words, hating how weak they sounded. He wasn’t weak. He was the Grey God.

“Found yourself,” Damian finished for him.

“Exactly.”

Darkness crossed Damian’s features, the same darkness Darian felt go through him as he alluded to the fact he was broken beyond repair.

“You want me to stop mothering you.” Damian’s eyes gleamed in sudden amusement. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Laugh all you want, little brother.”

“You haven’t called me that since …”

Darian offered a small smile, aware those around him had no way of knowing the changes he’d gone through in the past week. The magic forced into his body during a battle with an Other in Ireland had opened up much more than he liked. He’d begun to remember his life as the White God, memories that had been trapped in darkness for so long. He didn’t want those memories, though. He found the dark memories of his enslavement were enough to motivate him without the heartache of remembering all that was good that would never be his again. The new memories made him feel vulnerable when all he wanted to feel was ... nothing.

“I’ll never be who I was,” he said. “I know who I am now. I want to discover what I can do. I don’t want to be a burden to you or our family anymore.”

“You’re never a burden,” Damian said.

“I need my own space, like Jule and Dusty,” Darian continued, referring to their adopted brothers.

“You don’t need my permission. What’s mine is yours. You can commandeer any safe house or Guardians or anything you want. And please take some of these damn cats with you.”

“Thank you, Damian.”

“You’ve come a long way in a short time. I’m proud of you, Darian.”

“We’ve both come a long way,” Darian replied. “Our father would be thrilled at how well you’ve done.”

Damian’s smile widened, and Darian could see how touched his little brother was at the words.

“Anyway, I’ll take a few cats with me when I find a spot. You have any luck putting North America back together?” Darian asked.

“Working on it.  We lost a lot of Guardians to Jonny’s predecessor and that psycho son of his. Dusty’s in Atlanta surveying spots for a new headquarters, and I’m staying right here for now. Jule’s the worst off. He’s in Europe trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces,” Damian said.

“It’ll be just you and the girls.”

“Great.” Damian rolled his eyes. “How does the White God get put on babysitting duty?”

Darian smiled, knowing how much Damian loved his family despite his complaints. He set the cat down and rose.

“Could I ask for one last favor before you leave the nest?” Damian asked.

“Always.”

“Check on Jenn.”

Darian hoped his excitement at the assignment didn’t show. He’d resisted asking about Jenn, but she was almost always on his mind.

Not in a good way. His first mate—who ultimately betrayed him—had been a lot like Jenn: a talented warrior. In a way, Jenn was worse. Where Claire had been a weak Oracle, Jenn was a mind manipulator. Trusting Claire had led Darian to his enslavement. What would trusting a
real
mind control expert get him?

“I can send someone else,” Damian said at his silence.

“I’ll go,” Darian replied. “Just recalling how dangerous a female Guardian warrior with a knack for manipulating others can be.”

“I understand. Jenn isn’t like
her
, though.”

I know she’s not, but I’m telling myself she is,
Darian thought to himself. The last thing he needed was to become involved with someone else. He barely knew who he was. Still, he’d admired Jenn’s spunk, beauty, and strength. The tall Guardian was built like a model with the long, lean muscles of a ballerina. She packed a serious punch, despite the purr of a 1940s pinup model.

“I’ll check her out,” he said then corrected himself quickly. “I mean, check on her.”

Damian said nothing, and Darian didn’t have to look at his little brother to know he was trying not to grin. Darian left the study and returned to his room. He armed himself and stopped to pet one of the cats that had wandered into his room to sleep on his bed.

Nine lives.
He wasn’t sure a creature that lived more than one life was lucky. If anything, anyone with more than one life seemed pretty well cursed.

Darian pulled on a down vest. One of their brothers, Jule, had told them quietly where Jenn was after a trip to visit one of the vamps holed up with the Black God. The thought of killing vamps made his adrenaline pick up and his magic wriggle free from the tight grip he had on it.

Darian closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, not yet able to channel his newfound magic. When he felt calm again, he Traveled to the mountains of the Pacific Northwest, where four feet of snow covered the ground. He made his way to the rocky area near the hideout then crouched on the ground, watching. As much as he wanted to kill a few vamps, he wasn’t here for that.

Check on Jenn and go,
he told himself. He had a lot to do: find himself new digs and track down the immortals threatening his family. Among the gifts his new power gave him: the ability to sense and find the Others and Watchers. They were like burrs in his shoes, but he couldn’t yet go after them until he’d learned to control his new power. He’d expected the Grey God’s powers to be like the White God’s, yet they weren’t. Although he couldn’t do everything he’d been able to do as a White God, he’d gained other abilities.

Darian debated how to find Jenn before he risked talking to her mentally. As a mind manipulator, she’d have more sensitive mental receptors. He shouldn’t draw attention using magic this close to the Black God’s hideout.

Go for a walk,
he told her. Darian waited. A few minutes later, she emerged from the hideout.
West 100 meters.

He rose as she approached. Jenn’s dark hair was hidden under a knit cap, her lithe frame moving with a cat’s grace through the snow and boulders. Large, dark eyes were wary and guarded, and she was openly armed. When she saw him, she put her knife away but didn’t lose the wariness. There was something else in her gaze and the firm set of her jaw that bothered him.

“What is it?” he asked when she was close enough.

“Nothing,” she replied with a tight smile. “A lot going on. How are you doing? Is everything back home okay?”

“We’re all good. I’m on my way to find a new place.”

“What happened? Did
ikir
kick you out?” she demanded.

“No,” Darian chuckled. “I’m not a lost boy anymore. I can take care of myself.”

She studied him closely, as if looking for signs of the man he’d been the last time she saw him. Or looking for something else. Darian had never felt threatened around her, even with his desire to find some reason to write her off as another Claire. This time, her intense gaze made him uncomfortable.

“What is it?” he asked again.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Damian sent me.”

“At
ikira
Sofi’s suggestion?” Jenn asked, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Jenn, what’s wrong?”

“Really, it’s nothing,” she said with a sigh. “I’m a little rattled.” Her glance towards the mountain mansion told him things were not going well.

“I can pull you out at any time,” he said.

“Damian’s agreement was—”

“Believe it or not, I’m a god, too, and I don’t need Damian’s permission or help to rescue a Guardian in need.” His words came out harsher than he intended.

Jenn’s troubled gaze flickered up to him again. She didn’t seem convinced of his words or happy to see him. He suspected she was in more trouble than she let on, and it irritated him that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him. She shifted away from him. Darian wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction. They’d been friends since soon after Sofi found him, and Jenn had never acted this way around him before.

“Are you being treated well?” he asked.

“I’m still standing.”

“You’re worried about something.”

“Being surrounded by vamps all day makes you jumpy.”

“Jenn—”

“I’m fine. Really. This isn’t a safe place for you to be, Darian. If I need something, I’ll send a message, okay?”

Her verbal slap stunned him. The words were purred in her husky voice yet felt as if they’d been shouted. Jenn offered another half-assed smile then turned and walked away. Darian watched her, startled by her abruptness. He hadn’t seen her since they sparred last, when Damian interrupted and swept her away to loan her to the Black God for a month. They’d been joking and sparring and having a good time.

Now this. Jenn wanted nothing to do with
him
. But it was more than that. Something was off here, and it wasn’t just Jenn. Darian looked around him, irritated at her rejection but also aware she’d never treat any Guardian like that without a reason.

Jenn didn’t look back but strode straight to the mansion and inside. Darian remained for another long moment before Traveling to the nearest town, determined to figure out what was going on.

Jenn closed the door firmly and drew a deep breath before facing her awaiting surveillance team. The three vamps were spread out around the foyer and trailed her like bloodsucking puppies as she moved down the hallway. Those vamps she passed hissed at her. There was one place in the mega-mansion where she found peace: the gym. Most of the vamps were late to wake in the mornings, the effect of their nocturnal lifestyle.

The women’s locker room was empty. Jenn entered and went to her locker. She opened it and muttered a curse. One of the vamps had left her another deer head at the bottom. They were passive aggressive with her, hazing her when the Black God and Xander weren’t around. There was a note affixed to the deer head, and she suspected it said the same thing as the other notes on animal heads she’d found around the house.
You’re next, Guardian.

At least there’s no blood on my clothes,
she told herself. She changed, left her folded clothing on the bench outside the locker, and slammed the locker closed. The backpack she kept with her as she exited the locker room into the gym area. It held all the weapons she could cram in there. She’d learned the hard way what happened if she left her weapons in her room. They had a habit of disappearing.

Her surveillance team had set up already. With them was a fourth vamp, one she wanted desperately not to see. Xander, the Original Vamp, stood over seven feet tall and was built like a boulder with dark hair and the glowing, red eyes characteristic of vamps. One of five Original Beings, he’d landed on earth when the Originals escaped from their immortal exile. He’d been a thorn in her side ever since.

“Guardian,” he said, lifting his chin in greeting. He was waiting for her in the boxing ring.

“Puppet master,” she replied.

“Leave us.” This order was to the surveillance team. They obeyed faster than they ever would a command from the Black God, who still struggled to control his vamps.

Jenn ignored him and went to the punching bag she’d adopted as hers. Xander was in the gym whenever she was, no matter what time of day or night she went.

“Not in the mood, I see,” Xander said.

“Just warming up. I’m gonna do it this time,” she told him with a grunt as she unleashed a kick-punch-kick combo into the bag.

“Beat me?”

“Yep.”

“It’s good to have delusions.”

“We call it optimism. If I could get rid of every single one of your kind, I would.”

“You’d have nothing to do if we weren’t around to kill,” mused the bored predator.

“I can live with that,” she replied and straightened. “I’m not here to entertain you, Xander.”

“Why else do you think I gave you back your power? Should make what comes more interesting.”

“I’m ready.” Her blood was moving and her head clear. No part of her believed he’d let her live if he didn’t have a reason to keep her around. He unceremoniously offered to return her Guardian power to her a week before in exchange for blood, part of a plan only he understood. The bites in her arm still hurt. Until that time came when their sparring became a final battle, she’d learn as much as she could from the ancient warrior.

Jenn joined Xander in the ring. She was dressed in clothing meant to facilitate her movement, but Xander wore heavy boots and clothing, as if he’d just come from outdoors. If one of his steel-toed boots connected with her head, she’d be dead.

One day, she would beat him at his own game. In the meantime, she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. She’d figure out his weakness and hold onto that knowledge for when she needed it.

She struck first, not bothering to soften her blows as she might with anyone else. Xander deflected and attacked. His strikes were hard and fast and seemingly from every direction. She’d learned to stop thinking when in the ring with him and listen to her senses, to include the mind control talent. Anything that would indicate where his next strike would fall.