Damian's Oracle Part 3

"Tell me about them."

No. Her instincts were restless, and every fiber in her body warned her not to respond.

"I'll come see you right away," she said, knowing this alone would pacify him.

"Very good. I will be here. How far out are you?"

"About an hour."

"I will see you soon. And Sofia, I don't appreciate being stood up."

There was a warning note in his voice that made her more uncomfortable. She hung up. Her last hope for understanding what was wrong with her was someone she innately knew she didn't want to meet.

"Who was that? Dr. Bylun?" Jake asked hopefully, reappearing in the bathroom door.

"No. Dr. Mallard. He flew in a specialist," she responded, pulling the blanket over her head to s.h.i.+eld her further from the sunlight. "I don't think I like him."

"I thought Dr. Mallard was the only doctor you hadn't fired yet."

"Not him. The specialist. He sounds like he's from Russia. His name is Dr. Cicero. Or Zirno Or something."

"Czerno?"

"Yeah, that's it."

Jake was so quiet, she thought he left until he spoke again.

"Sofia, will you come with me somewhere?"

If not for the painful sunlight, she'd have looked up at the hushed note in his voice.

"No."

"I promise, it'll be worth your time."

"Not during daylight."

Her body was beginning to ache more, from her battered hands to her bruised cheek from where she'd fallen after fainting the night before. A deeper ache, as if she had the flu and every muscle in her body were on fire, was made worse by sleeping on the cold floor. She was in pain she didn't understand. A tear trickled down her cheek.

She'd never been moody or wimpy or weak! In high school and college, she played co-ed soccer and basketball. Since leaving college, she'd stayed in shape through the local gym, where she lifted weights twice a week and forced herself onto a cardio machine twice a week. She wasn't in tip-top shape, but she wasn't weak!

"What the h.e.l.l happened to your apartment?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going to get up?"

"No."

"You've always been so f.u.c.king stubborn. I'm trying to help you!"

She hurt too much to move. If she were perfectly still, she could deal with the pain.

"You want something to drink?"

Her head ached too much to respond. He returned a few minutes later, and rustled her blanket, setting a cup beside her.

She drank the cool fruit punch down, grateful as it chilled her parched throat. She soon felt relaxed and drowsy. When her phone began to ring again, she stretched for it and found she couldn't move.

"Sorry, Sofi, but I gotta take you somewhere safe," Jake's voice warbled.

White G.o.d's Headquarters "D, you coming down for the festivities? It's pretty interesting. They're acting out some bizarre kid's story for the cancer kids," Han said, ducking his head into Damian's office.

"No. Talking to Dusty and Jule," he answered without turning. "Save me some cake."

"Sure."

The door closed softly, and he returned to the instant messages popping up on his screen.

"Dusty, can you hear me?"

Dustin typed a yes.

"What the f.u.c.k's wrong with your mic?" Jule, the commander of the eastern hemisphere, demanded with a laugh.

Don't know. IT issues.

"At least it's just IT," Jule responded, growing serious.

Damian pulled out a map, his gaze roving over Jule's European front. It was slowly being decimated and fragmented by Czerno's blood sucking vamps.

"You've got a rat," he said, reviewing the past hundred years of battles depicted on a map. To humans, it would look like the natural give and take of a long battle. To the three of them, the drastic changes that occurred over such a short time span after thousands of years of no change were a warning sign.

Or two.

"I think Dusty's right," he agreed. "You've got more than one rat to worry about."

"I have Antoine under surveillance. I have no leads on anyone else," Jule replied. "Thanks to Antoine, my spy network is s.h.i.+t right now. I'm rebuilding as fast as I can, but it ain't easy finding new Guardians let alone those who make good agents."

"Discretion isn't a natural trait to Guardians."

Just like their supreme leader.

"What'd you do to him, D? He's been cranky all night."

"Chill, Dusty, it's not that serious," he answered.

An oracle????? Not serious? Are you f.u.c.king insane?

"It's not confirmed."

"Wow. Why didn't you tell him?" Jule scolded. "In fact, why didn't you tell me?"

"Dude, I just found out!" Damian snapped. "One of Dusty's newbies called me. If one of our guys calls, I'll go. They usually need something they don't call just to chat. When someone gives me some more definitive info on her, I'll tell you."

"Back to my issue. I'm out of ideas for dealing with my traitor issue, unless Dusty can send a few spies my way."

I'm short, but I'll send you a couple on loan. Want me to talk to Antoine?

"Cool, bro, thanks. f.u.c.k no on talking to Antoine. I need him alive and preferably in one piece, Dusty, unlike the last time I sent someone to talk to you."

"I'll come to you after the Quarterly with some reinforcements. We may need to make a couple of less-than-discreet strikes at Czerno's strongholds to push him back and give us some time. Can you hold things down for two weeks?"

"I'll do my d.a.m.ndest. Hey - is it just me or is recruiting getting harder and harder?"

Definitely.

"Yeah. I think our traitors have some influence on that, too. I'm getting reports from the recruitment team that a lot of their newly flagged Guardians are getting whacked as soon as they make the list," Damian said.

Ask Claire what's going on.

Damian grimaced, recalling the last time he'd seen the beautiful woman, his slain brother's wife. They never got any work accomplished when she was with him. They'd had a falling out a few hundred years before and hadn't spoken since. He wanted to keep it that way. Sleeping with her made him feel ... guilty, like he was betraying his brother's memory. Yet, she was all that remained of his brother, and he cherished the connection. He preferred to know she was alive and well - and somewhere else.

"I'll a.s.sume you're still not talking," Jule said.

"Nope."

I'll give her a call. Maybe she can come to the Quarterly.

"f.u.c.k you, Dusty," Damian said acidly.

"d.a.m.n women," Jule said. "I don't know why they say you can't live without them. I'm doing quite well."

Amen.

Damian snorted, gaze lingering on the map. Something was really wrong in Europe, and he needed to figure out what, before the European front was overrun by vamps. His thoughts returned to the Watcher, and he wondered just how much of his problems were caused by traitors influenced somehow by the beings coaching Czerno. With any luck, his Watcher wouldn't fail him.

His phone rang. He glanced at the number and let it go to voicemail, not recognizing it.

"I've got two rotating to Tucson," Jule said. "They're en route. I want Han, though, D. You promised."

"I know, I know. He's sick of it here anyway."

A crash came from the hallway. By the sound of it, it was one of his favorite, priceless, Ming vases. With his luck, the kids were loose in the house.

"Dusty, can you - "

A scream jarred him.

WTF?.

"What he said," Jule echoed. "Everything - "

A second scream. Damian rose. His door flew open to reveal a huge, furry monster with fangs.

"What the f.u.c.k is going on? And why are you dressed like a s.a.d.i.s.tic teddy bear?" he demanded.

s.a.d.i.s.tic what?

The Guardian pulled the head off the costume.

"You need to see this, D."

By his tone, something was more wrong than the horrible costume.

"Guys, we'll talk later. D out," he said into the mic before tossing it on the desk. "This better be good."

CHAPTER THREE.

The in-between place where Jake's drugs put her were filled with horrifying, visions of Toby and other strangers dying and Dr. Czerno screaming at her to return to him.

And him. The dark monster in a dark corner whose sobs were so loud, she thought them real. Once, she thought he was calling for help, until he swiped at her, and she tried to free a scream from her frozen body. He retreated to the corner and sobbed some more while she fought the effects of the drug. The drug wore off, leaving her in the dark, hot and sweating with a different kind of headache, the kind she got after taking a lot of Dr. Mallard's drugs. Only she didn't remember taking drugs.

Jake.

Furious, she pushed off the bed coverings and stood, teetering dangerously before deciding to sit again. Moonlight drifted in through a window, and she stared in confusion. Her window was on the other side of her room. Disoriented, she stood up again and stumbled to the door.

She hated the headaches and feeling like s.h.i.+t! She couldn't remember the last time she felt halfway decent. Determined first to wash the taste of drugs down then to kill Jake, she wrenched open the door, blinded by the hall light she didn't recall leaving on. She walked down the carpeted hall, stopping when she realized her hallway didn't have carpet.

Her vision was too blurry for her to see much beyond hazy shapes and colors. The carpet was a deep maroon, soft and cushy, the walls around her brown. She squinted through her fingers and braced herself against one wall to counter the affects the drugs had on her equilibrium as she moved down the long hallway.

"Jake?"

Suddenly, her bracing arm hit air. She tried to balance herself only to find herself toppling over and over and over down a stairwell.

She landed hard on a cold floor. Pain roared through her, and she sought both to s.h.i.+eld her eyes from a crystal chandelier blinding her and grab her burning leg. She wore only a long s.h.i.+rt to her knees that twisted to her stomach with her fall.

"Oh, G.o.d!" she grated, pus.h.i.+ng herself into a sit.

Her blood was a slash of stark red against a white marble floor. The pain in her leg cleared the haze of her mind, and she realized whatever was happening wasn't a dream. Panic piqued as she looked around her. There was nothing familiar about her surroundings - nothing!! Down one hallway, she heard the ring of a phone.