Damian's Oracle Part 6

"D," the two responded simultaneously.

d.a.m.n. The thought of him made her feel like a girl in junior high being asked to her first dance. Or a drugged rabbit wandering into a hungry bear's den. She wanted to see the mysterious D and yet couldn't repel his magnetic draw. Even now, her heart quickened and her thoughts raced to the image of him in tight black clothing.

"Most people react like that," Han stated. "Not many willingly confront him, especially when he's in one of his moods. Smart girl."

She wondered what he meant. She didn't fear him she wanted him. Did most people want him? What if he was the only person on the planet who could ever touch her again because of her wacky visions?

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Outside," Jake said. "If you're brave enough, you can see him when he's back."

"And why should I be brave? What's wrong with him?"

"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 sungla.s.ses and started towards the one part of the house Han had warned her away from: the patio that led into the gardens. G.o.d 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 gla.s.ses 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. Gra.s.s 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 b.u.t.ter. Hate it, hate it, hate it, and I can't stop eating it! I hate it!"

Embarra.s.sed 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 a.s.s. 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 a.s.signment 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 a.s.sets 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 s.e.xy 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 grat.i.tude.

"G.o.ds, 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 t.i.tle 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. "G.o.ds, 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 l.u.s.ty 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.

CHAPTER FIVE.

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 gra.s.sy, 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 G.o.d. 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 prost.i.tute, 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.