 
### Damian's Immortal

### War of Gods, Book III

*

By Lizzy Ford

http://www.lizzyford.com/

*

Kettlecorn Press

Smashwords Edition

*

Damian's Immortal copyright 2011 by Lizzy Ford

Cover art and design copyright 2014 by Regina Wamba, Mae I Design

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

## Chapter One

Jule lifted his head to the night sky and closed his eyes. Fat raindrops soaked his clothing and left him chilled. He'd hitchhiked between towns and walked cross-country, admiring the Irish landscape as he went and cursing the cold, incessant rain of late autumn. Finally, he'd reached the top of a hill overlooking a small, familiar village that glowed with warmth.

The walk calmed his irritation at being powerless for the first time since the Schism. It had been two days since he felt the ripple of power that marked the making of a new Black God. He'd last felt that surge a few hundred thousand years ago, when Czerno had slain his predecessor and claimed the Black God's mantle. While he recalled little else of his time before the Schism, Jule couldn't help the nagging feeling he was missing something important about the transition between an old and new god.

He looked over his shoulder again at the dark landscape behind him. The hair on the back of his neck had been standing for the past mile he'd walked, only he wasn't entirely certain why. The wave of magic had short-circuited his Guardian powers and dropped him on the other side of Ireland. His phone was fried, and his only recourse was to reach the local Guardians. Instead of helping his brother the White God navigate the transition, he walked the hills of Ireland alone, unable to remember why he'd decided to put only one station of Guardians in Ireland.

"Probably because you never thought you'd have to cross Ireland on foot." The voice he'd dreaded hearing finally spoke. Jule drew a deep breath and faced the small, grandfatherly man with eyes the color of an Irish meadow. The rain didn't touch the Watcher, and Jule crossed his arms.

"Didn't think you were talking to me," he said.

"Not by my choice."

"You mind if I get out of the rain before we do this?"

"Rain doesn't bother a real immortal," the Watcher said with a trace of triumph in his voice.

The oldest beings in the universe, the Watchers were supposed to observe and were forbidden from interfering in human affairs. At least, they had been until about a year ago, when the White God found the first Oracle since the Schism. Jule understood the importance of her appearance, just as he knew all bets were off once she was revealed. What he remembered of the Watchers came from the Schism, when they'd openly hunted and killed Naturals-- humans with extraordinary gifts-- that they felt were threats to them.

"The only thing bothering me is you. Say your piece and get out of here," Jule replied.

"You were expecting me."

"Why should that surprise you? I've been expecting you for years. The opportunistic bastards that you all are, you'd take advantage of a time like this."

The Watcher clenched his teeth, green eyes flaring with light and spinning before he regained his temper. Jule was happy to piss off the little green-eyed troll. The Watchers thought him lesser, because he'd chosen the mortal world over the immortal one.

"Chosen is the wrong word," the Watcher said. "You were banished."

"Happily banished." Jule baited the immortal creature. "You won't jerk me around like you did Damian."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's a dare, my little friend."

The Watcher paused again to rein in his composure and then spoke in a reluctant tone. "The Grey God has torn the fabric between the mortal and immortal realms. We discovered there is a creature here that can steal the Guardians' power and use it to rupture the breach. It's left the Black God in an advantageous position, since all but the White and Grey Gods are powerless."

"What do I need to do to right this?" Jule asked.

"We're stitching this tear back together from the immortal realm. We can't fix it from the mortal realm. We don't know who can, but we know who can destroy our efforts."

"Someone here in Ireland," Jule guessed. "Or you would've let me go home."

"I'd rather someone else take this on, but you're my only option," the Watcher said in plain distaste. "Yes, I kept you from returning with Damian to North America. The creature that can prevent us from healing the rupture is near here. She's called the Magician. We're not sure what this Magician is, but her powers are ... unique and dangerous. She feeds off the powers of Guardians, so we stripped the Guardians of power."

"Leaving them and the humans vulnerable to the Black God. Great plan, Watcher."

"We didn't take this decision lightly! If her powers grow enough, she'll not only prevent us from stitching up the tear between realms, but she'll open the doorway between the two worlds. You know well enough what the Others will do in the human realm," the Watcher said.

"Make the Black God look like Santa Claus," Jule said with a frown. "So you sapped us to keep her from absorbing our power. What's this have to do with me?"

"I'm glad you ask," the Watcher said, his gaze darkening. "I want you to find her and kill her."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Give me back my powers, so I can find her," Jule said.

"I'm going to give a select group of Guardians back their power, but you're not among them."

"You want me to find a creature with untold powers with my human self? You really think I'll succeed?"

"You better. She's hiding from us somewhere nearby. We tracked her here and could get no farther. We need her found and distracted until we can enact a better plan," the Watcher said. "If she kills you, nothing is lost. If you kill her, you save us the trouble of Plan B."

"And if I refuse?"

"I'll have you killed."

Jule laughed loudly. "You really think that'll work on me?"

"What mortal doesn't fear death?" the Watcher asked, his brow furrowing.

"This one," Jule said with a broad smile. "If I succeed, I want my powers back. On the spot. You see, Watcher, I'm not stupid enough to think you really want me to fail. You wouldn't ask someone you hated unless you were desperate. Or, unless I'm the only person who can do it."

The Watcher's eyes flashed. Jule studied him, guessing his words to be correct by the anger on the Watcher's face.

"Fine." The Watcher all but spat the words. "If you succeed, you-- and everyone else-- will have their powers returned." He appeared to sulk for a moment then grew thoughtful. "Of course, there's always another option."

"And that would be?"

"Returning to the immortal realm with me and regaining your powers."

Jule frowned. He wasn't sure how returning to the immortal realm would make a difference. A Watcher was stronger than any Guardian in the mortal realm, except for Damian, and more powerful than any immortal in the immortal realm, except for an Original Being. Whatever this Watcher was planning, it wasn't good.

"No, thanks," Jule said. He turned and started walking down the hill.

"You don't remember the immortal-- "

"Nope. We're done."

The Watcher lingered for a moment. Jule felt the creature's presence disappear and dwelled on the odd arrangement. The Watcher had been up front with him about the mission, which meant there was much more than the immortal creature was saying. The little bastards never spoke the absolute truth.

The rain fell harder, and Jule broke into a trot. He hadn't visited the Guardians' Irish station in years, mainly because Ireland had no regular vamp population. He continued at his quick pace into the town, glancing over the quaint downtown strip lined with small cars and pubs. He slowed as he reached an intersection and made his way through the town to the outskirts, where small houses lined the street.

He walked until he recognized the Guardians' station, a single story house nestled between two similar houses and marked by a star and an arrow – the White God's symbols – in the corner of one window. He felt no wards protecting the station and shivered, wondering how many Guardians would be lost between now and when he could find and kill the Magician. Without their powers, the Guardians were vulnerable against the Black God's vamps.

The door opened before he knocked, and the Guardian within looked him over. Jule couldn't help but feel some relief at the sight of a warm, well-lit interior.

"We've been waiting for you," the blond-haired Guardian said in a light Irish lilt. "You look like shit."

"Feel like shit," Jule said and entered. "Damian call?"

"Yes, ikir called earlier and said you'd be in today. Sean got you some clothes before he went to the pub for his shift."

"Why is a Guardian working at the pub?" Jule asked.

"We're bored," the Guardian said with a shrug. "Sean's from here, and we got nothin' to kill."

"All righty," Jule said. "I take it you know by now you've got no Guardian powers?"

"It's bad, Jule," the Guardian said, pursing his lips. "Ikir ordered a no-engagement protocol. We're supposed to lay low and avoid vamps. He said there's a new Black God. Ikir thinks the new Black God is reorganizing. But once they start attacking ..."

"We fight, like always. Just have worse odds," Jule said, trying not to let his own alarm show. As the leader of the Eastern Hemisphere, he wasn't about to let his Guardians know he was worried.

"Aye," the Guardian said. "I have a new phone for you, too." He closed the front door and went into another room.

Jule looked around the cozy house. He needed to contact Damian, the White God, above all, and share what the Watcher had told him. Damian might have some insight into what was going on, and who the Magician was.

He trotted up the stairs to the second floor of the house and walked into the bathroom, eager for his first hot shower in days.

* * *

Yully Hughes stayed in her room, where her father told her to, not wanting to upset him. His erratic moods had grown more volatile the past couple of days, and she knew better than to draw his attention. She still bore the bruises from upsetting him two days ago.

She sprawled on the rug near the fireplace. The manor house had been built several hundred years ago, and every room but hers was a reflection of her father's wealth. Her room was plain and basic. She'd hung one picture above the blazing hearth. The rest of the walls were bare, the curtains drawn even during daylight, and the heavy wooden furniture solid and worn. After a childhood filled with foster homes, she feared getting too comfortable, even in the home of the man who adopted her twelve years ago, when she was ten. She'd stayed after she turned eighteen, because he was the only one who understood her strange gift.

She opened her hand to reveal its contents, a marble. Absently, she turned it into a frog then a flower then a piece of wood. She tossed it into the fire, marveling at the tiny explosion of pink and green flames.

"Yully," her father called.

"Come in, Papa," she said, rolling to face the door.

Her father entered. His features were stoic, his beautiful purple eyes the color of spring flowers. While he didn't look anything other than pleasant, she felt his tension in the shimmering air around him.

"How's my darling?" he asked with his usual indifference.

"I'm fine, Papa. Are you all right?"

"I will be soon, I hope. I need to talk to you about something."

"Is it what's been bothering you the past two days?" she asked.

"You felt it." He let a rare smile cross his face. "Yes, of course you did. Your powers are incredible."

"It's about the ... uh, thing you told me about, isn't it?" she said, sitting up.

"Yes, it is. You remember what I've taught you all these years?"

"Some sort of immortal creatures called Guardians are trying to destroy humanity. We are going to fight them," she recited. "And we'll start by taking out one of their leaders."

"For the sake of humanity," he said. He sat beside her. "I always told you, my daughter, that you were destined for greatness."

"I know, Papa. I don't understand all of it, though." And sometimes, all this weird talk frightens me. This thought she kept to herself.

"You will," he assured her. "Don't be afraid, my daughter. I've trained you the best I could. Your powers will soon know no depths, and you'll be able to unite the realms. Instead of being the reject, you'll become a princess."

When she was younger, she'd loved it when he told her this. At her age, the words sounded strange. She didn't believe she'd turn into a princess any more than she believed she wanted anything to do with killing anyone.

"First, I need his secrets, then we'll kill him," her father said.

"Will he have many secrets?" she asked, perplexed. "And why do we need them?"

"In time, my dear. I need you to run to Doolin with me in half an hour. The Guardian has arrived. We will set up our plan to capture him."

"What? He has?" She started to fidget. "But I thought ... I thought he wouldn't come for a while."

"It's been a while," her adoptive father said with a small laugh. "It's been ten years since I first told you this."

"I know ... I guess ... I hoped ..."

"Your dear old father was crazy?" he asked with a glint in his eyes that made her cringe. "Don't worry, my love. You will soon see for yourself, and you will understand everything. Get ready to go." He rose and gave her a kiss on the forehead and then left her in the safety of her room.

I trained you the best I could. Bitterness crept through her as she dwelled on his words. He'd never tried to raise her as a true daughter. Train had been the perfect word. He'd drilled her in how to use and control her gift. She'd learned self-defense by the age of eleven and how to shoot a gun when she was twelve. He'd said it was for a good cause-- to save humanity-- but she'd long since thought there was something strange about his wild stories of Guardians and Gods. If not for her unusual power, and his cold magic, she would've considered him crazy.

"Are you ready, my daughter?" he called through the thick wooden door. "We'll be driving in the rain. Oh, and bring your things. We may stay there a night or two."

"Just a minute, Papa," she answered. Yully rose and crossed to her wardrobe. She pulled out waterproof ankle boots and her thick, lamb's wool-lined coat then quickly gathered her toiletries and packed an overnight bag.

Her father awaited her in the foyer. He had no bag and no coat, and she scanned the foyer.

"Forgive me, daughter, but I can't go with you," he said and glanced at his watch. "You go on ahead. I'll drive out tomorrow."

"Father, I'd rather-- "

"No," he said sharply. "You'll go now."

She flinched, but he didn't hit her this time. The strange note was in his voice again. Instead of speaking, she kissed him on the cheek and hurried out the door, where her car had already been pulled in front of the manor. She darted through the cold rain into the warm car and tossed her things in back. Her father stood in the doorway of the house, framed against the light of the foyer.

Shivering, she couldn't help thinking something was very wrong. She drove the winding roads from her father's manor through County Clare and south towards the Cliffs of Moher to Doolin, one of her favorite day trips. The sun set too early on the autumn day, and she finished the trip to Doolin in darkness. She went to the main strip, where the pubs were not yet busy in the early evening.

"Your father called, Yully! I saved your seat!" the bartender called as she entered. "Nice seein' ya in town again."

"Thanks, Sean," she replied with a wave. She shook off the rain in the doorway and crossed to the small booth near the bar that she and her father usually shared.

"Ye want the usual?" Sean asked. A burly redhead who towered over her, his face was flushed from the heat of the warm pub. She'd always felt comfortable around him. He was one of the only people who didn't shy away from her or treat her like she was a leper. Once, she thought she'd seen the same shimmer of power around him that she saw around her father.

"Yes, thanks, Sean." She peeled off the thick coat and draped it over one bench before seating herself facing the door, as her father had taught her. Sean brought her a bowl of thick beef stew, soda bread, and a Coke.

"You fall again?" he asked, gaze on her bruised cheekbone.

"Yeah." She looked away. He said nothing else and moved away.

Yully ate slowly, enjoying the stew enough to start a second bowl. Some of the locals she knew from her frequent visits seated themselves before Sean at the bar. One glanced her way, his gaze lingering. Self-conscious of the effect her gift had on people, she moved deeper into the booth. Normally, she'd leave before it got too crowded; her father preferred she avoided people altogether. With nothing but her troubled thoughts, the cold rain, and a lonely room in the bed and breakfast down the road, she didn't feel like leaving just yet.

Instead, she started a third bowl of the soup and watched the pub fill with people.

"Enjoy," Sean said, reappearing from the kitchen doors behind her to place a bowl of warm toffee pudding on the table.

"Oh, Sean," she said with a smile. "I've already had three bowls of stew!"

"It's from the gentleman o'er there," he said and indicated a booth near the door with the tilt of his head.

"Could I take it to go?" she asked.

He hesitated, and her senses tingled in warning. Sean smiled finally and whisked it away. Yully watched him, alerted by the same sense of uneasiness she felt around her father lately. She wasn't sure why he'd care if she ate or took her dessert home.

Unless there was something wrong with it. She looked down at her stew, her father's warnings coming back to her thoughts. He'd claimed someone would try to kill her, and the man they sought was here. She'd long since thought her father was paranoid, if not crazy. Sean poisoning her made no sense.

It's from the gentleman o'er there.

She searched the busy pub with her gaze. There were a lot of tourists in town, probably for the autumn equinox, which drew people from around the world every year. She wasn't sure who Sean was trying to indicate had sent her the dessert.

"Here you go," he said and placed the small brown paper bag on the table before her. "Have a good night, Ms. Yully."

"Oh, here," she said and reached for her purse.

"No worries. The gentleman paid for your dinner."

"Which gentleman?" she asked. "I'd like to thank him."

"Right over there." He pointed to a small table across the pub, and she wondered how she'd missed the men at the table.

"Thanks."

Sean returned to the bar. Two men sat at the table, one with blond hair and the other like something out of a movie. Cocoa skin, soulful dark eyes, exotic features, and brilliant tattoos over his exposed, muscular arms. His hair was long and black, braided down his back. While it was hard to tell his height when he was seated, he looked to be Sean's size, well over six feet tall. He sat like he owned the pub, leaning back in the chair in a display of relaxed power. His smiles to his companion were easy and his gaze wary.

He shimmered, like her father did.

Yully's stomach turned. This had to be the man her father warned her about! She made a show of resting her coat across the table, as if to say she wasn't leaving, and crossed to the small hall that contained the restrooms. Instead of ducking into the ladies' room, she pushed through the back entrance, which emptied out into a dark, rainy alley. Shivering, she pulled out her phone to call her father as she made her way towards the street.

"Papa, I think he's here," she whispered when he answered. "I don't know what to do."

"Are you armed?"

"No, Papa."

"You're supposed to carry at least a knife every time you leave the house. In any case, I'm on my way, darling," he said with disapproval. "You know how to defend yourself, and you can turn even a man into a rock with your magic. You have nothing to fear. Go to the bed and breakfast and wait for me."

"Yes, Papa."

He hung up. She shoved the phone and her hands in her pockets to keep them warm as she picked her way through the littered alley.

## Chapter Two

Jule had watched the Magician for a good half hour. He wasn't sure what he expected-- maybe a cold, hard Medusa-- but the young woman Sean indicated was nothing like that. Her hair was fiery red and curly, her frame tall and slender. Almond-shaped green eyes were large and expressive while her skin was touched with honey. She'd barely met Sean's gaze and her smile was hesitant.

She looked too sweet to be someone about to destroy the fabric between the immortal and mortal worlds, even if he did sense some sort of dark secret in her gaze. She radiated power that even humans could feel. Despite the pub's standing room only capacity, the table next to her booth was empty. He'd watched Sean subtly steer people away from it.

His own unease grew. The Watcher wanted her dead, and yet, Watchers couldn't always be trusted to tell their true intentions. He understood it was in their best interest to protect humanity. Why, then, was he starting to feel as if he'd been set up? The Magician looked like a sweet, innocent Natural, one of the humans with extraordinary gifts who could be brought into the Guardians' organization.

How he wished he had his power! He'd be able to read her mind and confirm she was indeed intent on destroying the gateway between the realms. Instead, he had to do this the way humans did.

The Magician piled her coat on top of her table with shaking hands and walked toward the hallway where the restrooms were. Sean was supposed to serve her dessert laced with a sedative, so they could drug her and take her back to the station for questioning. He had a feeling she wasn't sticking around and wondered what had alerted her. Sean caught his eye and tossed his head towards the restrooms. Jule rose and maneuvered through the crowd and down the small hall. He emerged into the alley in time to see her replace a phone in her pocket. He moved silently down the alley and had almost reached her when she froze.

"Don't make me do it," she said in a soft voice.

"Make you do what?" he asked and stopped just out of arms' reach.

"Kill you. I have a sort of ... magic power that will turn you to stone."

"Sweetheart, there's not an evil bone in your body," he said, amused. "I don't need magic powers to see that."

"You're here to kill me. Why should I not defend myself?"

Stalking an innocent woman in the alley was a cakewalk, until the moment she said something she shouldn't have known. Jule's wariness made his senses heighten. Again he felt more was going on than the damn Watcher let on.

"I would think less of you if you didn't try," he said in a quiet voice.

She turned, her body tense and her large green eyes swimming with fear and dread. Her flawless face was flushed, her breathing quick. He held her gaze, struck by the aura of power around her. He'd seen it from across the pub. Only standing within its midst did he understand just how strong she was.

"This can go one of two ways," he said. "You can come with me quietly, or I can drag you out of here."

"I'm not going with you."

"Then take the first hit." He slung his arms open, giving her a huge target. With magic or without, he'd won every brawl he'd ever been in, and he definitely wasn't afraid to fight a girl.

The woman took a step back. He wasn't surprised when she whirled and ran. He snatched her arm, and she took a swing at him. He ducked her blow and grunted at the elbow that found his midsection. He hadn't expected her to know how to fight.

An arcing kick forced him to release her. He blocked it and the next two blows and then snatched a fist headed for his face, twisted her arm, and spun her. He wrapped her arm around her throat as he pulled her into his body and held her there with an arm across her chest.

"Please, please don't make me do this," she gasped. "I don't wanna kill anyone!"

"C'mon, sweetheart. We're gonna have a little talk, then we'll see who gets to kill who." He chuckled. She wasn't going anywhere in her position, and her body shook from cold. If he thought she wouldn't run or try to kick him again, he'd let her go fetch her coat.

"I am so sorry," she whispered.

A blast of cold tore through him as she directed her magic into him. His teeth rattled at the raw energy coursing within his body. He wasn't sure what her gift was or what she was trying to do, but he'd never met a Natural with her unique combination of power and strength. The magic faded, and she tried to pull away.

"You done?" he asked.

"You're not a rock."

Fed up with the cold and rain again, he spun her and slung her over his shoulder.

"You're not a rock," she said again, stunned.

"I'm probably immune to whatever it is you tried to do," he said. "Don't feel bad. You probably would've killed a normal human." He strode toward the end of the alley, wanting out of the rain as much as he wanted to talk to the intriguing woman over his shoulder.

He'd nearly reached the end of the alley when the hair on the back of his neck rose like it did when a Watcher was present, only this was no Watcher. He'd never forget his single run-in with one of the Others, a group of Watchers working to destroy the mortal world in favor of an immortal one. The two types of beings had last brought their war to the mortal realm during the time of the Schism, when they'd almost destroyed the universe.

He turned, not surprised to see the small, grandfatherly man standing deeper in the alley. Unlike the Watchers' tell-tale green eyes, the Others had unnatural purple eyes. The hum around the Other assured Jule there was only one person in the alley without any sort of otherworldly power. He lowered the woman to her feet and pushed her behind him.

"You've gotta help me!" The woman directed her plea toward the Other and tried to push past Jule.

"You want nothing to do with this guy, woman," Jule muttered. He wrapped one arm around her tightly.

"He's my father!" she snapped, straining against him.

Holy shit. Suddenly, he understood why the Watcher couldn't find her. She was under the protection of the Others. If the Watchers and Others both sought this woman, something was very wrong. Jule refused to release her, sensing more danger toward her than to himself. She stopped struggling, apparently realizing how futile it was.

"Jule," the Other said, taking a step forward. "I see you've met my daughter. She knows you've come to kill her."

"Just doin' my job," Jule replied. The Magician smashed her heel into his instep. He shifted her without releasing her. "I thought your kind hated humans."

"And I thought your kind had magics," the Other said and cocked his head to the side. "What has happened to you?"

"Don't need magics to kill a woman." Jule smiled despite his unease, not about to be caught off guard by the creature. He pulled free a knife and flipped it in the air, catching it. The woman in his arms went still as he pressed its edge to her throat.

The Other's gaze went to her. Jule waited. Others despised humans, but the fact that this one hesitated to abandon the woman to her fate told Jule more than the most discreet of immortals probably intended. The woman's fate was suddenly of more concern to Jule than messing with the purple-eyed or green-eyed trolls.

He sheathed the knife and pushed the woman away. She darted to the Other and threw her arms around him. Jule crossed his arms and watched. The Other returned the hug briefly. The woman moved behind him, her confused green eyes on Jule.

"Life for a life," Jule reminded him.

"You're not an immortal anymore," the Other snapped. "I don't need to abide by the rules."

"You haven't killed me yet, so you must want something from me."

"Daughter, go inside. Get your coat."

The woman hesitated.

"Now!" the Other barked.

In that moment, Jule pitied her. By the look on her face, it wasn't the first time the Other had raised his voice at his alleged daughter. She hugged herself and hurried towards the door to the pub.

Yully closed the door behind her, shaking out of fear and cold. She started to the table then stopped, unable to dismiss the feeling of the man's arms around her or what she'd felt when they touched. Her gift of changing or transforming objects into others should've turned him to stone. Instead, she'd touched his soul, and it'd laughed and turned her magic away. She couldn't describe the sense any other way, just like she couldn't determine why she still felt the connection to his soul.

The conversation between her father and the man who should've killed her rattled around in her thoughts as she returned to the door. Cracking it open, she peered out. She was too far to hear them talk. An arc of lightning left her father's hand and slammed the stranger into the wall.

He crumpled, and she gasped. Her father knelt beside the still body. Suddenly, they both vanished. Whatever lingered from his touch faded without disappearing.

"Everything okay?" Sean asked from behind her.

She jumped and looked up at him. Unable to find her voice, she hurried around him to the table where she'd left her coat. Yully fled the pub for her car and opened the door with cold, fumbling hands. She locked her doors and wiped rain from her face.

Her father said the man came to kill her, yet she was still alive.

She started the car and blasted the heat. Part of her wanted to return to her home that very night, and another part of her feared what she'd find if she did. Her father had disappeared into thin air with the body of the man he called Jule.

She wasn't going home. If she'd had friends, she would've gone to visit one. She drove to the bed and breakfast instead, where the friendly woman who rented rooms had left the back door open for her. Pacing in her room, she tried hard not to think of what her father was capable of doing to someone he thought was a threat to her. At last, she forced herself to lie down and tried not to think of the man named Jule, whose soul still lingered.

Yully slept deep and late despite the events of the night. Her father had tried to call twice, and she tossed the phone on the bed. She'd hoped sleep would remove some of her confusion from her night.

She still felt him.

Yully shook away her lingering fear. She couldn't dislodge the image of Jule from her mind. His panther-like physique and tattoos gave him all the appearance of a threat, and yet, he'd fended off her blows with gentleness he didn't have to show. Her father never would've shown such restraint. Jule could've broken her in two and hadn't.

She couldn't stop thinking about him.

"Yully," the owner of the bed and breakfast, Moira, called through the door. "I brought you breakfast!"

"Thanks, Moira," she said and opened the door.

"You father called, dear," the woman said, holding out a tray of sausage, eggs, blood pudding, and coffee. "He's worried since you didn't answer the phone."

"I just woke up, Moira. I'll give him a call."

The plump woman nodded and hurried away, like everyone save her father did around her. Yully ate quickly without touching her phone. She didn't know what to say to her father after last night. The way he and Jule had talked to each other, like long-lost enemies, reminded her she didn't know much about her father. She'd always been grateful to him for accepting her and her gift, but he'd always refused to tell her what exactly he was and how he seemed to be able to read her mind sometimes. Right now, she didn't want him reading her mind. Instead of calling him, she texted him.

Leaving now, Papa.

She gathered up her things and left out the back door to avoid the small group of people gathered in the dining room for brunch. The drive home was too short, and she reached the large manor at noon. It still rained, but it wasn't cold that made her hands tremble as she left the car.

She still felt the man named Jule, and he was here. The sense had grown stronger as she drove nearer. It now felt like it had when she was in the alley: as if he were standing beside her. She gazed up at the solemn façade of the manor before jogging up the walkway to the front door.

The butler opened it when she approached, and a maid stood waiting to take her coat. She shed it and her boots quickly, wanting to escape to her room before her father cornered her. She'd made it halfway up the stairwell when his voice rang out.

"My darling, I expected a phone call."

Yully drew a deep breath and leaned over the railing to see him. He looked small in the middle of the foyer, and he wore an insincere smile like he might any other piece of easily removable clothing.

"I'm sorry, Father. Last night upset me," she said truthfully.

"I imagine so. That man will never bother you again," he said. "Remember I'm dining with the McDonalds tonight."

"Father, may I go with you someday?" she asked. She willed herself not to think of the man named Jule trapped somewhere in the house. His nearness would drive her crazy if she were forced to be alone with him.

"We've discussed this. No one wants anything to do with something like you," he reminded her. Her face turned hot. "You forget yourself, Yully. There's one creature who can tolerate you, and that's me. Go rest for a bit. If you've forgotten this, you're tired."

She nodded and fled to her room. Despite his cold words, he'd left a present for her on the nightstand near her bed. Sometimes he did this after he'd hit her or screamed at her worse than usual. She dropped her things by the wardrobe and crossed to it, softening. Her father was hard to read and often unapproachable, but he cared for her in his own special way.

In the box was a small, simple necklace of a bronze chain and faded bronze coin. She gasped, recognizing it as the one he wore often, the heirloom passed down through his ancestors. It was better than any jewels he could buy her, because it meant something to him! Allowing a smile to escape, Yully pulled the necklace free.

He cared enough to give her his most prized possession, and he'd protected her last night against someone who meant to kill her. Maybe her fear of her father was wrong.

She placed the medallion around her neck and admired it in the mirror, vowing not to think of the man whose presence plagued her.

Her resolve lasted until her father left for dinner with their wealthy neighbors. She fingered the coin around her neck as she lay before the fire. The sense that Jule was in the house hadn't left her. If anything, the nagging feeling was growing stronger.

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she waited until certain her father had left then rose. The stone floors were drafty, so she put on slippers and padded into the bright hallway of her wing of the manor. Yully concentrated on the small itch in her mind that told her Jule was near. It gave her no real direction as to where to go. She walked the length of the wing and felt the feeling fade a little. Back toward the middle of the house she went and down into the foyer. She roamed the bottom floor until she reached the door off one of the kitchens.

He was down in the wine cellar. The spark in her thoughts told her so. She opened the wine cellar and shivered at the cool breeze but forced herself to descend. If he wasn't there, she could convince herself this was all some sort of nightmare.

No one was in the wine cellar, and she sighed with relief. Turning to go, she noted the outline of a door beneath the stairs. She'd been in the large storage room once while playing hide and seek long ago.

Yully cracked the door open, suspecting the man named Jule was there even before she flipped on the lights. Warm light flooded the cold room, and her breath caught. She stared at him, not sure what to say or think about finding a man chained to her basement wall.

Jule sat with his back against the far wall, his lip bloodied, one eye black, and his hands chained above his head to the pipes running from the floor to the ceiling. He raised his head as she took a step into the room and met her gaze. She wasn't sure she'd seen a man as big as he was anywhere but on the TV. He looked like a professional wrestler with his muscular physique, tattoos, and long braid. The thin pipes didn't look strong enough to hold him.

"I bet you don't know what that means," he said, glancing at her necklace. His voice jarred her as it had in the alley. It was low and gravelly with an edge of huskiness.

"You're really here," she replied, distraught. "Who did this to you?"

"You know who, sweetheart," he replied in his soft growl.

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't know your name."

"It's none of your business."

He leaned his head against the wall. She took in his wounds again, unable to fathom why her father would chain him to the wall in their wine cellar. What could this man possibly know that her father needed? And how did she stomach the thought of her father doing such a thing to someone? Troubled, she toyed with the necklace around her throat.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

"It's the House your father belongs to. An ancient bloodline of immortals, one of the oldest," he replied.

"Immortals," she repeated.

"His kind don't age. Ever notice that?"

"Yes." It was one of the many oddities about her father that she'd accepted over the years. While their servants aged, her father never did. He looked the same as when he'd come for her at the orphanage.

"I wear one, too," Jule continued.

"I don't see it," she said, gaze dropping to his chest.

"I'm chained. You can dig it out."

She looked him over again, certain he could escape any time he wanted.

"You're safe with me," he said at her hesitation.

She felt the truth in his words, perhaps because their souls had touched when they first met the day before. Hesitating only a moment more, Yully moved towards him and knelt. Her hand brushed one of his forearms, held in place over his head by the handcuffs.

"Your skin's like ice," she said, suddenly realizing how cold it was in the storage room. He wore only jeans and a dark T-shirt that stretched across his chest in all the right places and clung to bulging biceps.

"Cold won't kill me," he said, unconcerned.

"An Irish winter will," she returned.

She saw the silver chain around his neck and delicately tugged the round emblem free. It was a silver coin, warmed by his skin, with a circle of cuneiform symbols surrounding a star with two arrows. Her own necklace had the same symbols surrounding five stars.

"You're an immortal," she said and dropped the necklace. Her eyes went to his dark, steady gaze. "You're a Guardian?"

"Yes."

She sat back with a frown. He'd just admitted to being what her father warned her about! Her father said Guardians were her enemies, creatures who preyed on humans, and that she must use her powers to kill them. The man before her looked pretty human himself, with beautiful brown eyes and a body unlike any she'd seen before. She'd sensed more danger from her father than from the man before her.

His intent gaze was steady, and she wondered if he could read her mind like her father did. The air between them shimmered with his body heat and her magic, and he didn't flinch away like normal people did. This man seemed to accept her freakish powers, until he spoke again.

"I feel your magic. What are you?" he asked.

"I have to go." She flushed and stood. Accustomed to being shunned by people, she'd almost felt normal around the stranger who seemed unaffected by her magic. With regret, she realized her father was right: no one could accept someone like her. She strode to the door.

"I may freeze to death tonight," he warned. "You may not have another chance to ask me what you want to know."

"What makes you think I want to know anything from you?"

"The fact that you didn't close the door and walk away the moment you saw me." His voice was quiet and confident, and she felt like a visitor in his throne room rather than a woman talking to a stranger chained to her basement wall.

"Did my father hit you?" she whispered.

"You know the answer."

She chewed her lip. "He said you want to kill me. Do you?"

"Yes, I did," he replied. "But I don't now."

She glanced at him. His gaze was intent, and she suspected he'd just now reached that decision.

"He'll kill me when he has the chance," Jule said. "I think you know that."

"My father wouldn't do such a thing."

"Are you certain? A man willing to beat his daughter won't give a shit about killing a stranger."

She left before he could upset her more. Running up the stairs to the main floor, she wanted nothing more than to return to the safety of her room. She hesitated at the head of the stairs, tormented by the knowledge her father was incapable of mercy towards his daughter, let alone a stranger. If the man didn't freeze down there, he'd die at the hands of her father and his strange delusion that this man wanted her dead.

Jule was nothing like the men her father warned her about. She'd felt safe with him, a sense she found only alone in her room. She knew better than to relax around her father, whose hand was likely to fly at the drop of a hat. But this man, an enemy who had-- up until now-- wanted to kill her, left her feeling a little less alone.

She touched her cheek. She couldn't dismiss the sight of his darkened eye or bloodied lip. Her father beat them both. Yully trotted up to her wing and pulled a spare blanket out of the main linen closet. She returned with it to the wine cellar and pushed the door open.

Jule sat where she left him. She wasn't sure why she'd hoped he was gone, except that his absence would alleviate her guilty conscious.

"You can't tell my father I brought you this," she told him. "He'll hurt us both." She laid it across him then straightened it to cover his body.

"It's our little secret," he said.

She met his gaze again, caught in the dark eyes that seemed both warm and wary. He remained relaxed, his large body radiating heat in the cold room. The intensity of his gaze made her warm on the inside. She backed away from him to the door.

"Good night," she said.

"Good night."

Dear god, let him survive the night! Torn, she closed the door on him once again. She promised herself to find a way to check on him in the morning without her father finding out. As she crept up the stairs of the wine cellar to the kitchen, she couldn't help feeling troubled at leaving the man in the basement. She started down the hall.

"Daughter, where are you coming from?"

Yully stopped in place.

"I thought you were gone, Father," she said.

"I came back for my coat."

She turned. His eyes glowed eerily in the dark kitchen. His overcoat was slung over one arm, and he wore a wool suit over a dark turtleneck. His gaze went to the wine cellar door, which she'd left cracked.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, stepping towards her.

Yully recognized the fire in the back of his gaze and retreated. She couldn't think of a lie fast enough. He set his coat down on the counter, and her hands began to tremble.

"I'm sorry, Papa, I was just curious. I heard something in the basement and wanted to see what it was."

"You heard something all the way up in your room."

"Yes, Papa."

"And now you're lying to me about it. What did you find in the basement?"

"Nothing, Papa," she said in a hushed tone.

"You didn't find a man chained to the wall?"

She gasped, surprised he'd admit to what he'd done.

"I spend my life protecting you. I ask only for your loyalty, daughter. That man wanted to kill you. You heard him say it in the alley," he said.

"Father, couldn't you just call the police?" Her question was met with a blow she didn't see coming. She braced herself.

"You're a freak of nature. They'd haul you away from me, put you up in some sort of Bedlam," he snapped. "Then where would you be?"

"I'm sorry, Papa. I won't do it again." She prayed he accepted her apology. He was quiet for a long moment.

"I'll make certain of that in the morning." His voice had calmed, and he started past her. She released the breath she held, the danger averted. "Did he say anything to you?"

She thought of how she'd felt safe with Jule during their brief encounter. "No, Papa."

Her father turned at her hesitation, his gaze blazing. Yully saw the next blow coming, then the next and the next. She'd long since learned to take his beatings without screaming, but she sobbed nonetheless as the blows fell.

Jule pulled his hands free from the handcuffs and tugged the blanket up. He'd been afraid of scaring the beautiful redhead away if she saw he was free. The scent of her lotion still hung in the room, and he breathed the amber-vanilla deeply. He couldn't remember the last time he'd found any woman so intriguing. She wasn't the threat the Watcher made her out to be. She was unguarded and troubled, a combination that appealed to the Guardian in him.

She was worried about him, and he was touched by the idea she took pity on him when she herself was in more danger than he was. The sight of her bruised cheek made his blood boil. The Others had no mercy for mortals, and Jule couldn't imagine what it was like to be raised by one.

The Other had left him no food after beating the crap out of him with his otherworldly power. Jule wrapped himself in the blanket and stretched out on the floor, hungry and chilled.

"Your target is in this house, and you're going to lay there?"

He ignored the irritated Watcher and shrugged deeper into his blanket.

"You have no intention of killing her, do you?"

"Nope," Jule replied.

"If you don't, you will set into motion a fate we cannot-- "

"There is no such thing as a fate that cannot be changed, Watcher!" Jule snapped. "You know this. Why do you and the Others both want her?"

"The Others ..." The Watcher drew a deep breath. "Your mission is to kill her. If you can't do it, you get none of your powers back. And neither will any of the other Guardians. That was our deal. When she's dead, only then will you and the Guardians all get your powers back."

Jule was silent, realizing he had made that deal. He kicked himself mentally for not thinking before he made any sort of pact with the Watcher, even one that seemed so straightforward, until he met his target and realized she was an innocent caught in the crossfire.

"A powerful innocent," the Watcher corrected him. "Without their powers your Guardians will be slaughtered by the Black God. What is her life in exchange for thousands of Guardians and the humans they're protecting? It's not worth it, any way you look at it."

"If her death is so important, and I've already failed once to take her life, you'd call in someone else to do this job," Jule reasoned. "You have infinite immortals at your disposal."

"You're right," the Watcher said. "I'll find someone else to do the job."

The Watcher didn't look happy. The creature winked out of existence, and Jule sat up. The otherworldly creature wanted to force his hand, and he didn't understand why. He rose and paced, dwelling on the carnage that would surely ensue if the Guardians remained vulnerable for long. This woman was the key. Yet, he felt her death was not the answer.

Right about now, he'd give almost anything to talk to Sofia, the White God's Oracle. She alone could provide insight into what he needed to do.

"Sofi says hi." The Grey God's voice was quiet, and Jule didn't sense him appear. He chuckled, silently thanking Damian and his mate.

"I'm happy ..." He paused as he turned, startled to see the Grey God without the scars that knotted his face the last time Jule saw him. The man gazing back at him was wiry and lean with angled features and swirling gold eyes.

"I got a new face," the Grey God said.

"I see that. Lookin' good, Darian," Jule said. "How's everything on your side of the world?"

"Interesting. Dusty found his mate and destroyed most of Florida."

Jule laughed, not at all surprised by the news of his adopted brother, the human turned assassin with a low tolerance for bullshit.

"Damian doesn't know I'm here," Darian added. "But Sofi asked me to visit."

"So you defied your brother for the little blonde Oracle?"

"She runs the place, Jule," Darian replied. "Damian's just figuring that out. Anyway, she wanted me to tell you to trust your instincts."

Jule snorted. "She sounds like a Watcher."

"You have no idea," Darian agreed. While the Grey God appeared calm, his air was agitated and his gaze stormy. Jule sensed a great deal of turmoil behind his calm features and pitied the man. Darian had spent thousands of years enslaved to the Black God before the Oracle freed him, and Jule couldn't imagine how deeply that experience must have scarred the Grey God's soul. Darian's power had grown; the air of the room shimmered, and light and dark alike warped in the space around Darian.

"Good to see you, Darian," Jule said, genuinely happy to see Damian's brother alive. "The new Black God?"

"Nothing more than a kid. Sofi says his path is dark. I can't help feeling bad for him," Darian said, his gaze growing dark and distant. "I know what that life is like. I guess the alternative was worse."

"We all have our paths," Jule said. "Doesn't mean they're easy."

"Yeah."

"Tell everyone I said hello and I'm being held hostage by one of the Others."

Darian's eyes widened. "Really?"

"It's for a good cause."

"A woman?"

"Something like that."

"Sofi said to tell you 'I told you so.'"

"Give her a hug when you get back," Jule said with a chuckle. Darian cocked his head to the side, as if hearing someone call his name.

"I gotta go," he said. "I'll see you in a couple of days. Things will get worse before they get better, but they should get better."

The Grey God disappeared, and Jule dwelled on his parting words. The Darian he remembered had never been brooding or hesitant like this man. Sadly, he realized his old friend truly had died when he became enslaved by the Black God.

Trust your instincts.

Jule rubbed the back of his neck. His instincts told him the Magician was in danger-- and needed to stay alive. If what the Watcher said was remotely true, she was a powerful weapon in the hands of the Others, and he had limited otherworldly ability to protect her from them. Some of his innate defensive powers remained, or she would've turned him to stone or the Other would've vaporized him.

He touched his swollen lip. He hadn't ever been without his healing powers. His thoughts darkened as he thought of leaving the Guardians defenseless to protect a woman he wasn't sure he should.

One life. It should've been so simple. He closed his eyes, remembering a time when he'd made a similar choice. He'd chosen a human over the immortal realm and been banned for it. In fact, he'd chosen a woman over his life in the immortal realm. A woman who died during the Schism. The memories surrounding his exile were deeply buried, but he did recall how pissed the immortals had been with him and wondered why his one choice mattered so much.

The Watchers must've gotten some sort of twisted pleasure out of dangling a similar situation over his head again after so long! The fate of humanity was on his shoulders, with only an innocent woman between him and his ability to help the Guardians.

"Little bastards," he muttered.

Trust your instincts. He trusted Sofi over the Watchers but couldn't help wishing the damned Oracle had been a bit more specific. If the Watchers went to Damian, and Damian wanted the Magician dead ... she'd be dead. Jule would never cross one of his brothers.

One thing at a time, he told himself. He wasn't to that point yet, and he had to figure out just how to protect the woman from the man she considered her own father. Staying in the basement where the Other could find and kill him wasn't his top choice, but at least he was in the house. He could keep an eye on both the Other and the Magician better.

And stay warm. He was beginning to hate the cold.

## Chapter Three

The White God, Damian, studied the Black God's youthful features, both pitying and wary. Black Gods grew into their powers the way he had discovered his White God powers, though he suspected an evil education was far from pleasant. The gangly youth before him had dyed his hair from platinum back to its natural color of black. His brown eyes were shadowed, his Hispanic features the color of caramel.

"Why did you call me here?" the Black God asked, ill at ease in the small room in the basement of their old headquarters in Miami.

"We both have a mutual problem. Believe it or not, I come in peace," Damian said. He spread his arms to show he wasn't carrying any weapons.

"Is my sister okay?" The Black God's gaze turned sharp.

"Absolutely," Damian said and smiled to himself, marveling again at the turn of events that led to his chief assassin, Dusty, mating with the Black God's sister.

"He knows what I'll do to him if something happens to her?"

"I'm pretty sure he gets the picture," Damian said, unable to help his amusement. "It's not every day you marry the sister of a God."

"Then what do you want?" the Black God asked.

"We have a pest problem. You know by now about the Watchers and Others?"

Jonny, the Black God, hesitated before nodding.

"You know they're at war with each other and playing games with us here on earth."

"I ..." Another hesitation, as the youth grappled with what to say to his sworn enemy. "Yes. The Others were attempting to influence the outcome of who won the Black God mantle by using me. It didn't work." Angry light flared in the Black God's eyes.

"They staged a revolt within the Black God's ranks," Damian reminded him. "Something like this won't happen among the Guardians."

"Except for Claire."

"Ah," Damian said with a tight smile. "You're learning fast."

"No one is invulnerable to temptation, Damian."

"Some of us are," Damian countered, impressed by how far the youth had come in so short a time. He'd wondered if the kid had the guts to embrace the Black God's mission, or if he'd shy away from it.

"Some, not all," Jonny allowed. "I've heard rumors among my vamps of the Others walking among them. I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Damian agreed. "Which is why I want us to reach an agreement. Let the Others and Watchers fight amongst themselves without our involvement."

"I'd rather root them out and have them killed."

"That may not help things. Neutrality is probably less likely to piss off the immortal realm. Besides, they're hard little bastards to catch, if you hadn't noticed," Damian pointed out.

"I did. I'm surprised you're not interested in a ceasefire with me, since your Guardians are powerless," Jonny said.

"That's my concern, not yours."

Jonny looked away at his sharp tone, and Damian saw the Black God's fear.

"I don't know the extent of the Others' subversion," Jonny admitted at last. "Your predecessor, Czerno, had no spy networks. His philosophy seemed to be to throw as many vamps at an issue as he could."

"Your predecessor wasn't known for his sense of strategy."

"I would agree not to slaughter your Guardians and declare a ceasefire for thirty days, if you will agree to help me root out the traitors in my own organization."

Damian considered. There was more to the boy's intentions than he let on. The Black God had yet to meet his gaze again. There was one simple truth to their dual existence: neither Black nor White God could exist without the other. Damian understood the delicate balance between Good and Evil, just as he understood the Black God had the power to overturn that balance as long as the Guardians were powerless.

Give him Jenn. The voice of Damian's mate, Sofi, was a whisper in his mind. He frowned. Jenn was Dusty's most senior female Guardian, the captain of the Western Hemisphere's spy network. It made sense to lend someone with her expertise to the Black God, but only if Damian knew she'd be safe.

"Would you consider an exchange?" he asked carefully. "One of my experienced Guardians will join you and help you root out the traitors. In exchange, I want you to choose your top advisor to send to me."

"Sort of like a hostage exchange?"

"Something like that."

Jonny considered. "I think that would work."

"I'll send you Jenn."

Jonny's head snapped up, his expression one of surprise that quickly turned to anger. He paced. Damian studied him, curious about the reaction.

"Did the damn Oracle do this?" Jonny demanded.

"Watch it, kid. The Oracle is my mate," Damian growled. "Jenn is the chief of my spies. There's no one more qualified to help you."

More confusion crossed the Black God's face. Damian wondered what the hell Sofi had figured out that would send the man before him into the teenage-like fit.

"We good?" Damian prodded as the Black God sulked in silence.

"I'll send you Charles. He's the head of the vamps. He's been explaining how things work to me," Jonny said, blinking out of his thoughts. "Is ... Jenn here?"

"I can bring her here. She'll be armed, and I'm leaving her a distress beacon. If it goes off for any reason, I'll be at your throat with a knife, truce be damned," Damian said in a low, firm voice. "You understand?"

Jonny looked up, uncertainty crossing his face. He nodded.

"Go get your vamp, and I'll get my Guardian." Damian didn't wait for Jonny to respond but used his magic to Transport himself to the Texas ranch where they'd set up shop after Dusty blew up southern Florida.

"She'll be okay, Damian," Sofi's soft voice greeted him as he opened his eyes. "She'll have a protector to keep him from killing her, but anyone else you'd send wouldn't last the week."

"My own little mini-Watcher," Damian said, holding out his hand to her. The tension melted from his body at the sight of her petite frame and swirling silver-blue eyes.

She hugged him, and he breathed in her fresh scent. She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him with a smile. Her features had gone from drawn and pale to glowing, the result of his return from Europe after an extended absence and the child growing in her womb.

"What about the vamp I'm bringing into the house?" he asked. "Keep it in the backyard and give it a doghouse?"

"He'll be fine," she assured him. "At least, as far as I can See, he'll be fine."

"I'm not feeling reassured," he said with a laugh. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. "How you feeling?"

"Good enough," she replied, eyes glowing. "Drop off Jenn and come back. You still owe me for the time you were in Europe."

He kissed her again more deeply and then rested his forehead against hers with a sigh.

"I'll be quick, kiri," he whispered, withdrawing from her cool touch. She smiled.

Damian Transported himself before he ditched his mission for some quality time with his mate. He'd met Jenn once and didn't know her well enough to know where she'd be. His brother, Darian, however, tended to follow her around like a lost puppy. Damian went to the gym, where Darian spent most of his time. He wasn't surprised to see the Grey God in the boxing ring with the leggy brunette.

"Darian!" he called. "Take a break. Jenn, c'mon."

Both figures froze, before Jenn scrambled to obey. She slung a towel over her shoulder and dropped into a deep bow before him. Amused, Damian looked at Darian and tossed his head towards the door. His brother went.

"None of that shit," Damian said. "I need you to get dressed. I have a special mission for you."

"Does Dusty ..."

"I'll let him know," Damian said, well aware of how prickly the assassin got whenever Damian interfered with how he ran the Western Hemisphere.

Jenn rose. The attractive Guardian was toned and muscular, her dark hair kept in a pixie cut and her eyes large and dark. Dusty trusted her for a reason, and if Dusty trusted someone, Damian knew she was the best at what she did. He sensed her Guardian gift: the ability to manipulate minds. It served her well in her position as a spy.

"It's the Black God, isn't it?" she asked in a quiet tone.

"How is it I'm always the last to know what's going on?" Damian growled, crossing his arms.

She looked down and stepped away, trotting to the locker room. He watched her go, suspecting he'd missed more than he thought during the few months he spent with Jule in Europe. He didn't have time to figure out what, not with the Black God waiting for him to deliver Jenn.

When she returned fully dressed and armed to the teeth, he held out his hand. She took it, and he Transported them to the small storage room.

The Black God whirled from the far side of the room, his gaze immediately going to Jenn. The vamp standing beside Jonny was as big as any of Damian's Guardians, with eyes that glowed red.

"Hi, Jenn," the Black God said with some awkwardness that revealed his age.

"Hi Jonny," she purred.

"Jenn, your mission is to help the Black God root out traitors and find out what the Others are doing," Damian said, interested in the dynamics between the two. "Train him how to run his own operatives."

"Czerno had no spy network, ikir," she said. "You want me to help him set one up?"

"Yep," Damian said. He exchanged a look with her, and understanding crossed her face.

"Will do, Boss," she said.

"Charles here has been offered up by Jonny in exchange for your help for a thirty-day ceasefire. You will be safe, or the Black God has my personal promise that I'll wipe him off the planet."

"I promise, Damian," Jonny said quickly. "She'll be safe."

The Black God looked like a love-struck teenager, and suddenly Damian understood why Sofi suggested sending Jenn. Jenn crossed to Jonny's side. The Black God wasn't able to take his eyes off her. While uneasy, Damian suspected Jenn was seasoned enough to handle the boy for a month.

There was nothing remotely friendly or soft about Charles. The vamp crossed the room to Damian and stood. Gazing at the vamp, Damian couldn't help thinking he got the shitty end of this deal.

"Does it eat something beside humans?" he asked Jonny.

"I can survive for a month off of small children and animals," the vamp growled in response.

"Small children are humans. You'll have to stick with animals," Damian replied.

"Very well." The vamp didn't look pleased.

"We good, Jonny?" Damian called to the Black God.

"Yes, Damian."

"Let's go, Charlie," Damian said and offered his hand to the vamp.

"Charles," the vamp corrected him.

"Whatever."

* * *

Jule sensed the intruder shortly after dozing off. He couldn't tell the time in the windowless room, but he gauged it to be after midnight. His senses tingled, and he dwelled on how his defensive powers almost seemed to work when nothing else did. The only explanation was that the Others weren't as ready to see him fail as they claimed to be.

The Watchers really wanted him to execute his mission.

He left the room and ascended to the main floor. The manor was silent, except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. He couldn't sense the Other and paused at the foot of the sweeping, grand staircase leading to the second floor. The manor stretched into three long wings. His instincts told him he needed to find the woman, and he closed his eyes.

When she'd touched him in the alley, she'd left a piece of herself within him. He'd never heard of anything like this happening, but he felt her within the house. He concentrated on the sense. Finally, it spoke to him. He opened his eyes and trotted silently up the stairs, rolling his shoulders back in preparation for a fight with the Other.

Jule chose the center wing and kept to the side of the hallway. Someone else moved silently down the hall ahead of him, and he slowed his stride. The shadowy figure disappeared into an alcove. Jule crept up to the place where the figure had taken refuge and heard the person shift. The hidden stranger lashed out at him. He ducked a fist and maneuvered around a kick, snatching the intruder's body and shoving it into the wall. At once, he felt the brush of her soft curls against the underside of his chin and smelled her amber-vanilla.

"Why are you creeping around your house?" he whispered.

"How'd you get out?"

He sensed rather than heard movement on the first floor. The woman strained to break his grip, but he held her in place. Her breathing was the only sound in the still hallway. Whatever was in the house, it wasn't human, or the hair on the back of his neck wouldn't be standing on end. Their breathing synced, and she stilled.

Jule eased away from her and took her arm. She tried to yank free, and he pulled her body against his, moving them both into the alcove.

"Stop," he ordered in a quiet voice. "Whatever is here isn't something you or I can fight."

She sucked in a breath. Her body fit perfectly against his, warming him in the drafty hall.

"We need to find a way out, and we can't walk out the front door. Do you understand me?" he asked.

She nodded, straining against him again. He released her, and she hurried away from him into the center of the hall.

Don't do it! he willed her as she paused.

"Papa!" she shouted and ran towards the stairwell.

Jule wasn't lucky enough for the creature on the main floor not to hear. He bolted after her and tackled her. The woman fought him, and he hauled her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug, he all but dragged her down the hall.

He sensed the creature ascend the stairs and chose a room at random, shoving it open with his hip. Jule pushed the woman away from the door and slammed it closed. He locked it and looked around.

The woman was halfway out the window on the opposite end of the firelit room. Jule focused first on the nearby wardrobe and braced himself against it. He grunted as he shoved it in front of the door moments before the door bucked under the force of some otherworldly being.

The room smelled familiar, and he realized he'd chosen her room. Any hope he'd had of finding something-- anything!-- to use as a weapon was dashed as he looked around the sparsely decorated room.

He crossed to the window. The Magician had heart. She'd jumped the two stories to the ground and was running towards a large garage. Jule launched himself out the window as the creature made the second blow against the door. He landed on the hard ground with a curse and darted to his feet, chasing her down again. The woman flung open the door to the garage and ran into it. Jule reached it and turned.

The Watcher had sent an immortal after the woman, all right. The tall figure loping after them was the equivalent of an immortal pit bull, one of the Watchers' own elite personal guards.

Jule eased out of the garage and closed the door behind him. The woman was far enough ahead she should be able to escape while he distracted the creature.

"Step aside, mortal," the guardsman ordered.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Jule replied. "You'll have to kill me to get to her."

"You won't last beyond my first punch," came the scoff. "I warn you again, step aside."

Jule stretched his neck back and shook out his arms in the cold night. He lowered himself into a fighting stance. The guardsman drew a sword. They circled each other, and Jule waited to hear the sound of a car staring in the garage. The sound didn't come.

The guardsman struck with nonchalance that told Jule just how much he was being underestimated. Jule moved away from the slicing sword and caught the guardsman's wrist. He twisted it and unleashed a kick that knocked his opponent off his feet and sent the sword flying.

Jule retrieved it, satisfied to find it light and well balanced. When the guardsman rose, the arrogance was gone from his face, replaced by anger. Jule looked again towards the garage, growing concerned he hadn't heard a car or garage door motor yet.

The guardsman attacked with a knife in each hand, his movements a flurry of motion. Jule's instincts took over, and he allowed them to guide his sword and punches. He couldn't remember ever feeling so ... off. His sword defended him as if possessed, yet when he went to strike, he found his blows ill timed and clumsy.

"What are you?" the guardsman demanded, withdrawing.

"Damned if I know," Jule replied.

The garage door behind him opened, and he whirled. The woman emerged carrying a crossbow. Jule threw himself down as she leveled it and fired. The arrow went over his head and was followed by two more.

"You need to get out of here, sweetheart!" he yelled and rolled to face the guardsman. "You'll just piss him off."

"I can take care of myself. My aim is perfect!" Despite her defiance, her voice shook.

The guardsman was on his back, but Jule knew he wouldn't be down for long.

"Look, girl," Jule said, rising. "You've got about two minutes before this creature tears through me and kills you."

"No one could survive that," she argued and leveled the crossbow at him.

"You won't-- "

Thunk. For the first time in thousands of years, he remembered what real pain felt like. Jule looked down at the arrow protruding from his shoulder, growing annoyed with her for the first time.

"I missed your heart on purpose," she said. "Leave me alone, or ..." She gasped.

Jule turned to see the guardsman sit and begin trying to pull the arrows from his chest. Jule snapped off the end of the arrow in his shoulder, not about to bleed to death before he'd killed the immortal.

"Now maybe you'll pay attention," he said and threw the shaft of the arrow. "I'm going to do my best to kill him before he kills you. If you want to help us both, you'll get the fuck out of here."

She lowered the crossbow, her gaze going from the guardsman to him.

"When my father gets here, he'll kill you both!"

"Great. Now go."

A torn look crossed her features before she whirled and disappeared into the dark garage. Jule sighed, hoping she left this time. Pain radiated through his body from where she'd shot him, and his normally pliant temper was near the snapping point.

The guardsman finished pulling the last arrow from his chest and climbed to his feet. Jule prepared himself, pleased to hear the sound of a car starting in the garage.

The guardsman was done playing with him. The immortal launched himself at Jule, his knives a blur of glinting steel. Jule grunted at the first few blows that fell harder than any mortal could strike. His shoulder didn't move as it should, and he switched the sword to his other hand, trusting his instincts to keep his head on his shoulders.

At long last, he heard the sound of a car leaving the garage, and he maneuvered the guardsman away from the garage to ensure the immortal didn't take off after her. Thankfully, the immortal was more pissed at him than concerned about its prey. A fist caught Jule in the mouth and a kick sent him sprawling. He tasted blood and spit it out, rolling onto his back with a belly laugh. The Watchers would be enjoying this, and so would his brothers, whom he normally beat the shit out of when they sparred.

"Fuck me, I'm not lucky enough to die!" he said.

"I'll be happy to change your luck," the immortal snapped and launched at him again. Jule vaulted to his feet and spun before a knife could catch him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brake lights of the woman's car as she drove down the driveway. Satisfied, he focused on the immortal and keeping his weakening shoulder moving. He didn't know if the Watchers would let him die or not, but he was about to find out.

Yully stopped at the end of the driveway and squeezed her eyes closed, tormented by her conscience. Her body was stiff from her father's blows, her blood racing.

I'm going to do my best to kill him before he kills you.

Jule wasn't what her father said he should be. He may have wanted to kill her at one point, but he'd just taken an arrow to the chest and calmly told her to run so he could defend her. In the morning, her father really would kill him, and she'd be lucky to escape with another beating.

She twisted in her seat to look back at the figures fighting in the bright motion sensor detection lights of the garage. Jule was knocked off his feet by a hard blow but got back up, beckoning to the other creature with a look of confidence out of place for his bloodied face. She felt he was weakening with the same strange sense that told her where he was. He was a fool if he thought he could fight a creature that didn't die!

Her heart pounding, she turned the car around and drove back towards the dueling men. Yully kept her gaze on the man Jule battled until his back was to her. She floored the car's accelerator, closed her eyes, and prayed she hit him.

There was a thump as the car smacked a body, and her eyes flew open. Jule's opponent was standing in her headlights, staring at her, while Jule's body rolled to a stop a few feet away.

"Oh, dear, god!" she breathed.

The swordsman lifted a sword off the ground and raised it, charging her. Yully spun out as she shoved her foot to the floor again, wincing when she hit him and drove him into the side of the garage. He flailed for a moment then went still, pinned between the car and the garage.

Yully opened the door and looked around wildly. Jule lay on the ground a short distance away.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she said, running to him. She dropped beside him and rolled him onto his back. "I'm so sorry!"

To her surprise, he chuckled and then grimaced. His face was bloodied, and one arm was covered in blood from his shoulder wound. He didn't seem to be bleeding from anywhere else, though she wasn't sure she hadn't damaged anything else by running him over.

"You hit me," he managed at last. He struggled to sit up, and she helped him.

"I thought you were the other guy," she said, distraught.

"Where is he?"

She pointed. He widened his eyes then narrowed them in an attempt to focus. His opponent was flailing again. Frantic, Yully pulled Jule to his feet and tried to balance him.

"I'm good," he said. "I can still fight."

"You're a bloody mess!" she snapped. She strained under the weight of his body, and they staggered to her car.

"And whose fault is that?" he challenged.

"I could've left you!"

"Oh, and not run me over? I think I like that choice better."

She all but fell with him into the car. The man with the sword was beating it against the hood,, as if trying to chop himself free. Yully shoved Jule fully into the passenger seat of her car and ran to the driver's side, throwing herself into her seat. Backing the car up, she watched the man with the sword drop to his knees and slowly stand.

She sped away, and they took off up the driveway with the swordsman trailing. The small car fishtailed around a curve, but she kept up the pace until she no longer saw the man in her rearview mirror.

"What was that thing?" she asked, her whole body trembling.

"Immortal bad guy," he said. "Never thought I'd say this, but I think I need a doctor."

"He'll follow us, won't he?"

"Probably."

"Why aren't you more concerned?"

"Sweetheart, I'm sitting in your car bleeding to death. I think I'm doing pretty damn good, considering I would've been able to kill him if you hadn't shot and run me over," he replied in irritation.

Yully glanced at him. He looked bad. His eyes were glazed and the car seat bloody. She squeezed the steering wheel then reached into her coat pocket for her cell phone. The moment she unlocked the screen to call her father, Jule's gaze sharpened. He snatched the phone and rolled down the window, tossing it.

"That's all I need is your father finishing me off," he muttered.

She almost objected then realized it was futile. Neither of them believed her father would let him live.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Take us somewhere safe, where your father won't know where to find you."

She chewed on her lip, thinking hard. Her father kept her on a tight leash; was there anywhere he wouldn't find her?

"Hello?" Jule prompted. "Somewhere safe? A friend's house? Preferably if the friend is a doctor?"

"I don't have any friends," she said.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Stop mocking me. I'm so fed up with people making fun of me because I'm different," she said, frowning.

"That's what you thought I meant?" He chuckled and then coughed. "You're beautiful and courageous. I'd have thought you had tons of friends."

She shot him a look, suspecting he was messing with her. He was serious. Her anger turned to embarrassment.

"You're getting weaker," she said, as aware of his condition as she was his warm body. The bond between them was weakening with him.

"Yeah."

"I think I know a place."

"Don't take me to your father."

"I won't. I kind of owe you. You saved me. Well, you tried anyway."

He muttered in response.

"You're the only one who's ever tried," she added.

"Glad I could almost help."

His head dropped back against the headrest, and she sped up. The familiar path down the coastline passed the Cliffs of Moher and continued for a short distance. She meant what she said; she had no friends, but a long time ago, she'd had one whose family had a summer cottage near the coast. She went there for two summers, until she began turning everything she touched into something else, and her father was forced to pull her out of school at the age of twelve.

Jule began shivering, and she turned up the heat until it was too hot for her to stand. The rain picked up again. Yully reached the turnoff for the cottage and sped as fast as she could through a winding road. It dead-ended at the cottage, surrounded by a stone fence line. She eased into the carport but left the car running.

The cottage was vacant and the windows boarded up for the winter. Yully went to the back door, which she remembered always being open. Even it was locked. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned it from steel into a rag and pushed the door open. She crept in and turned on a light, relieved when it worked.

A pot-bellied stove in the middle of the main room provided the main heat in the two-bedroom room cottage. Wood was stacked beside it, and she turned the book sitting on the coffee table into newspaper to burn. She struck fire with the third match and tossed it into the stove. Newspaper crinkled and crackled.

Yully returned to the car. Jule was sweating and shaking. He was huddled forward and didn't look at her when she opened the car door. He stood, weaved on his feet, and started to fall. She caught him, and they careened into the side of the car before he caught his balance. Jule wrapped his arms around her. He smelled of sweat and blood. His body was burning up.

She maneuvered him into the house, almost dropping him in front of the fire.

"I don't know what to do," she said, kneeling beside him and starting to panic.

"You're gonna have to fix me," he said, as calm as she was not. "Start with gathering blankets, hot water, a first-aid kit, any sort of bandages they might have. And pliers."

"For what?"

"So you can pull the arrow out of my shoulder."

She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to tell him the sight and scent of blood was already making her want to vomit. She did as he said and ransacked the cabinets until she found a small first-aid kit. It didn't have the kind of bandages she suspected he'd need for his shoulder, so she turned several towels into thick bandages and added them to the pile.

"Any sort of antibiotic in there?" he asked through chattering teeth as she dumped the contents of her arms next to him.

"I think so," she said and held up a small syringe. She concentrated on it. When it didn't morph into something else, she knew it was what he wanted. "Yes, it is."

"Shoot me up."

"I have an issue with needles," she said. "They make me pass out."

"Stab me with it before you do."

Yully swallowed hard and steadied herself. She used scissors to cut off his shirt. Blood covered the tattoos of his chest, and she wiped as much of it away as she could. Jule's eyes were closed and his skin clammy. She finally gripped what was left of the arrow shaft with the pliers.

"This might hurt," she said.

She pulled. Nothing happened. Yully stood, tightened her grip, and yanked. Jule hissed through his teeth and more blood bubbled up, but the lodged arrow refused to move. Feeling stupid, she touched the arrow and turned it into a string that she pulled free. Blood gushed from the wound. Lightheaded, Yully sat heavily.

"Pressure dressing. Push hard, and shoot me up," he instructed, though his voice was ragged. "Then you get to sew me back together."

"If you'd stayed in the basement, this wouldn't have happened," she told him.

"And you'd be dead."

Her eyes watered. She didn't want to think about it, not when her hands were covered in the blood of her attacker-turned-savior. She did as he said and pressed hard on the arrow wound until the bleeding slowed.

The needle was smaller than she remembered needles being, and she steadied her breathing before plunging it into his arm.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Barely," she said. "You still with me?"

"I'm not lucky enough to die," he said with a faint smile.

"Good," she said. She was embarrassed by her half-laugh, half-sob that escaped. "I don't feel as alone when I'm with you. It would be a shame to lose you already."

He opened his eyes. His gaze was fevered but steady. The sense that had told her where he was intensified within her, as if they were close enough for their souls to touch again. The sensation intrigued her after a lifetime of rejection and isolation.

"Not that I want you around," she added, not expecting her own words. She looked away and fumbled with the needle and thread she'd found in a sewing kit. "This might hurt."

Nervous, she stabbed him harder than she intended to, and Jule groaned, closing his eyes. By the time she'd made the second stitch, he was unconscious and she was sick to her stomach. She forced herself to sew the arrow wound the best she could then ran from the room, vomiting in the bathroom.

## Chapter Four

Jule awoke in a haze of hot and cold. His body shook uncontrollably, and something warmed his side. He pushed himself up, glancing at the Magician's body. She was curled up beside him in a tight ball. His tingling senses awoke him, but he was too weak to do more than look around the room.

A hand clamped on his shoulder. Too weak to push it off, he let his head drop back onto the cushion behind him. He couldn't focus on the face, but he saw the glowing red eyes. Vamp. Adrenaline spun through him, and he staggered up, ready to fight it off.

"Easy," the vamp said. Maybe it was his delirium, but Jule thought the vamp looked larger than even Damian. "You don't remember me."

"Fucking vamp," Jule slurred. His head spun, and his legs belted. "Wait one minute. I'll kill you."

The vamp chuckled. "No need. Look closer."

Jule rested where he'd fallen and tried to concentrate. The vamp wasn't attacking. In fact, it sat calmly on the couch across the room from him.

"I don't know you," Jule said. "Should I?"

The vamp frowned. "Yes, you should. We all know each other."

"Define we," Jule replied.

"The Originals."

Jule sighed. "You're a dream. The Original Beings are locked up. The Watchers said so."

"What happened to you?" the vamp asked, leaning forward in interest. Jule had the sense of a memory at the edge of his fevered mind. He focused on it, trying to recall why he felt he should recognize the vamp.

"Xander," he said. "Your name is Xander."

"They wiped your mind," the vamp said. "I hope whatever you traded for your freedom was worth living like this, if you call this living."

"Cassandra," Jule murmured.

"No, she wasn't why you were exiled. No human could've caused this."

"Original Vamp," Jule said, barely registering the creature's words. His body was on fire again, and sweat trickled down his face. Xander's face faded in and out of focus, and his thoughts kept drifting away. Jule tried hard to follow the conversation.

"You freed all of us," the vamp continued. "It just took the rest of us a while to shake off the bonds."

Jule shook his head. None of the vamp's words made sense. Darkness was creeping from the edges of his mind.

"Find me when you're ready," the vamp said. He stood. "The Oracle will know where I am."

The dream faded, and Jule slumped to the ground again, unable to fight the darkness.

The sound of voices woke her. Jule had moved and collapsed in a heap a few feet away. He was mumbling in his sleep. Yully moved towards him and dragged his fevered body close to the fire again.

She worked tirelessly all night to clean the blood off of Jule. She marveled at his muscular body and the perfectly sculptured chest, shoulders, ridged abdomen, and biceps too large to wrap her hands around. His skin was soft despite his strength, a combination the woman in her found appealing. Removing the blood, she found every part of his exposed skin was covered in the colorful tattoos. She cleaned him up then took a shower and dug out musty clothing from a trunk at the bottom of one wardrobe.

Finally, she settled beside him, willing him to make it through the night. If he could shake his fever and take care of himself, he'd be okay alone. She knew she'd have to leave him. Her father would hunt them both down, and if he didn't, the sword-wielding maniac would. They weren't safe together, especially since the powerful connection between them was driving her body crazy just sitting so close.

Yully dozed twice and forced herself up. There was no food in the cottage, so she turned a small log into cans of soup. Just before dawn, she made herself soup and turned a box of cornmeal into bread. The cottage had grown warm quickly, and she kept the stove's belly full of wood.

Jule slept past dawn then into midday. She sat beside him and touched his skin. A strange energy ran between them, as if she could absorb the faint stream of his magic. There was more, though. It was not just his magic, but his soul that flowed into her. She pulled both into her body.

Her brow furrowed, and she straightened. She withdrew then touched him again, this time pushing the energy she'd absorbed-- and her own-- into him. His body took it this time, and his soul didn't laugh at her as it had when she tried to turn him into a rock. In fact, his sleeping body welcomed her energy. Magic hummed between them, and she began to realize he wasn't human, and he wasn't like her father. The sense of communicating with him through their magics relaxed her, made her drowsy. She didn't know what he was, only that the ebb and flow of magic and energy between them felt ... natural.

She fell asleep beside him again, their bodies humming in silent communication, until he awoke some time later. Yully woke with him and pushed herself up, expecting the worse.

"Hungry," he whispered.

Elated he was somewhat alive, she bolted to the kitchen for soup. Jule's shaking had stopped, and he looked pale rather than flushed from a fever. He'd managed to push himself into a sitting position when she returned with soup and water.

"How are you?" she asked and sat beside him again.

"Good as new," he said.

"I don't think you're there yet," she replied skeptically. He accepted the bowl of soup and sipped in silence for a few minutes. When he'd finished, he swapped out the soup for the water. "You were mumbling in your sleep about killing people."

"I've got a list of people I probably should," he said with gentle humor. He studied her. "You believed that, didn't you?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes, because you're a Guardian."

"And?"

"It's what Guardians do. They kill people."

"According to who?" he asked. "Let me guess. Your father."

She nodded.

"And you believe him?"

"You may be the exception," Yully said.

Jule studied her. He lowered the soup, and their arms brushed, opening the gateway for energy between them. His gaze went to their arms.

"Interesting," he said. "You're absorbing what little power I have."

Flustered, Yully started to rise. Jule rested a large hand on her forearm, and she stilled, meeting his intense gaze. His direct look warmed her body on the inside in a way she knew wasn't appropriate for the time, place, or man in front of her.

"You always run," Jule said in his soft growl. "You don't need to run from me."

She flushed and looked down. Jule lifted her chin, his warm touch and nearness stirring her blood.

"Can you channel the energies you feel?" he asked.

"I've never felt anything before you," she said. Her face grew hotter. "I mean, I never tried. I don't interact with people much."

"I understood," he replied with a smile. His energies flexed, the hum between them growing stronger. Intrigued by the sensations, she found herself unwilling to look away from him this time. "You feel it?"

"Yes, I feel it."

"You can channel it."

Instead of responding, she concentrated on pulling his energy into her body then pushed it back. The connection she'd experimented with when he slept grew intimate when he was awake. She hadn't thought twice about how personal it was to touch another's soul, until fire and interest sparked in his warm gaze. His touch turned electric, and his magic skimmed her blood. Her breathing quickened, her heart fluttering. The room suddenly seemed too small for the both of them, and she became as aware of his heartbeat as her own. She wanted more of Jule's magic caressing her from the inside, and his soft skin caressing her on the outside.

"You called me beautiful last night," she breathed. "Were you in shock?"

"Yes," he said with a soft laugh. "But I meant it." His thumb caressed her cheek then her bottom lip.

Yully closed her eyes, entranced by the sensations. His first kiss was light, as if he were testing her. She responded, shivering at the energy that fluttered through her when their lips touched. His lips turned more demanding, and he took her hands in his. His energy rippled through her, making her gasp at the intensity of the touch that lit her blood on fire.

She leaned into him, needing more of his magic and his touch. For the first time in her life, she wanted not to feel completely alone. She'd touched his soul, and now she touched his body. If she could just have both ...

Jule groaned, not out of pleasure but pain. Yully snapped back to her senses, her eyes opening. In her haste to be close to him, she'd planted a shoulder in his injured chest.

"You're determined to do me in," Jule said with a husky chuckle.

"Oh, god!" she gasped. "You're bleeding again!"

He looked down, and she bounded to the kitchen, surprised to find her breathing ragged after such a simple kiss. She tried to regain her composure, unable to compare the brief experience with Jule to anything else she'd ever felt. She wanted more ...

She shook her head and took a wet washcloth into the living room. Jule was resting against couch cushions she'd put on the floor for him. The sight of his muscular, bare torso made her heart flop in her chest. Handing him the washcloth, she sat out of arms' reach, afraid of what would happen if she touched him again. She was even more afraid of what he'd say, if he thought something was wrong with her like everyone else did.

"Pretty useful gift you have," Jule said without looking at her. He dabbed at the blood on his chest. "I can see why they're after you."

"So I can turn things into something else," she said. "Doesn't seem too great."

"You can turn someone else's energy into yours and amplify it. For someone who needs more power, it's a very useful talent." His calm voice assured her he wasn't going to pass judgment on her gift. He didn't seem like the kind whose moods shifted like her father's.

"I guess," she murmured.

"You really have no idea how special you are, do you?" he asked and met her gaze.

She wanted to think he was talking about more than her powers, but such an idea was out of the question. Her father hated this man for some reason, and being near him put them both in danger.

"What happened?" He reached for her face, and she flinched away. "Your father does this?"

Yully touched her swollen eye and cheek self-consciously.

"Want me to kill him for you?"

She smiled and met Jule's gaze. He was serious.

"He's my father, Jule," she said. "He just has a hard time controlling his temper, and I don't pay him enough respect."

"You don't believe this is your fault."

"It is. I shouldn't have taken you the blanket, but I didn't want you to ..." Tears filled her eyes again, and she paused, embarrassed.

"You didn't want me to hurt like you do," he finished for her.

She nodded. "It's stupid, I know."

"No, it's incredible. Like you." His voice was soft, and she fought the urge to reach out to him.

"I've tried to run away so many times." She cleared her throat. "But when I do, whatever I am, I can't get far without terrifying the people around me. I always end up running back to Father. He doesn't even notice anymore when I disappear for a day or so, because he knows there's nowhere for me to go."

"He's not your biological father?"

"No. He adopted me when I was ten. I lived in foster homes stateside up until then. He brought me here. Tried to put me in school, but my strange gift frightened everyone. I learned what I know of the world from reading in his library, and I learned to fight."

"You fight very well."

She wiped her eyes and smiled. "I know. It's the only thing I do well."

His gaze was warm. The fever had left him, and while he looked pale beneath his cocoa skin, he was alert and his speech coherent. She knew she needed to leave him but couldn't find it in her to abandon the only place she'd ever felt safe. She tried not to flinch when he touched her cheek. His hands were rough and calloused, but his touch was light and opened the comforting flow of energy between them. She marveled at the combination of strength and gentleness. Jule was so much bigger than her father. He could do so much more damage.

Or he could protect her.

"In the alley, when you blasted me, what were you trying to do?" he asked. He lowered his hand and took one of hers. As if worn out, he rested his head against the cushions.

"Turn you into a rock."

"You can do that?"

"I think so. I can turn anything into something else the same size, but I'd never tried with a person before." She lifted one of the spare pillows and turned it into a rolled-up blanket. She draped it over him. "Jule, what are you? You're not like me, and you're not like my father."

"It's a long story."

"You're too weak to go anywhere," she pointed out. For the first time since they met, Jule seemed to withdraw for a moment. Yully waited curiously.

"It's not easy admitting what you are sometimes," Jule said.

"You aren't alone in that," she said with a small smile.

"True," he replied and smiled back at her. "I think you put a spell on me, sweetheart. I can't refuse to answer you."

Her face warmed again. He took her hand and pulled her close enough for their bodies to touch. The flow of energy soothed her, and she relaxed against him.

"I'm an immortal who's older than dirt. I don't remember much of my time before coming to this world, except I was expelled. Apparently, I chose a woman over life in the immortal realm."

Yully's disappointment was soul-deep at the mention of a potential wife for the immortal.

"Her name was Cassandra. She was a human who died soon after I came here."

"How'd she die?" Yully asked.

"There was an era called the Schism, where the heavens and earth separated. A lot of people and immortals died during that time. The world was flooded in some areas and on fire in others with still other parts blanketed in outright war." His gaze grew distant. "She drowned. I was with my immortal brothers fighting the Others, the ancestors to your father."

"How awful. Do you miss her?"

"I did for many, many years. That type of heartache is rough, but I came to peace with it and was pretty happy with my expulsion, until a few days ago."

"When you met me," she guessed, frowning.

"You've been the highlight. There is a state of constant struggle between good and evil here on earth and a similar struggle in the immortal world between the Others and another faction called the Watchers. The leader of the bad guys on earth died and was replaced. It sort of wreaks havoc on the balance. All the Guardians, like me and Sean, your bartender friend in that pub where we met, lost our magic."

"Guardians are the good guys," she mused. "But you're different than even Sean."

"You can sense that?" he asked, eyeing her.

She nodded. "You're different than my father, too."

"That I am. I wish I could remember why. Guess I'm just too old."

Yully didn't push him. He looked tired after the talk, and there was a note in his voice she recognized as caution. She hesitated, too comfortable with him for her own good.

"Jule, I can't stay here. My father will find us."

"Let him come."

"You're too weak to fight him," she said, a smile tugging up the corner of her mouth. "And I don't want to take the beating I know is coming to me."

"Stay with me," he said, his gaze intent. "I'll find a way to protect you."

"I can't. You don't know how dangerous he is."

Jule frowned and strained to sit. She pushed him back down, showing him just how unprepared he was to deal with anything.

"You're right. I am weak," he said. "Never happened before."

"If I go now, he won't be as angry with me, and maybe I can come back tomorrow." The words sounded hollow, even to her ears, and she rose. She avoided his gaze.

"You're not coming back," he said. He was too weak to chase her down this time, and she knew it.

"Jule, I ..." She cleared her throat. "I need to go home. It's better for both of us, and it's the only real way I can protect you from him. I can call someone to come get you and then I think you shouldn't try to find me anymore."

She pulled a pen and paper off the desk in the corner and held them out to him. She didn't think he'd answer and glanced up at him. He took the pen and paper and scrawled down a number before handing it to her. His gaze was intense as he looked up at her. Finally, he spoke.

"Sweetheart, I'll find you no matter what." The resolution in his voice floored her. He was too weak to stand, and yet he all but promised to find her.

"I can't protect you," she said. "Please, Jule, please stay away."

"I'll find a way to protect you, even if it takes a while."

"I don't want to lose you already," she replied. "I've never had a ... I've never trusted anyone else. I'd be happy knowing you're safe."

Feeling as if she'd said too much, she turned and fled the cottage for her car and locked the doors. Nothing of what Jule told her made sense with what her father told her. If she had a choice of what to believe, she'd believe Jule, a man she barely knew. She pondered what made her decision so simple and touched her face again. She'd accepted her father, because there was no one else who understood her. Jule had shattered her carefully built world in a day, and he'd done it without the brutal lessons her father resorted to.

What did she do when Jule came back for her?

She started to drive home then thought of the man she and Jule both tried to kill. Unwilling to fight something that didn't die, she drove to Doolin and the bed and breakfast. Moira was surprised to see her but led her quickly to her room, unwilling to spend much time questioning her. For once, Yully was grateful for the almost allergic reaction humans had to her.

She waited until Moira's footsteps faded before dialing her father.

"Yully, where are you?" There was urgency in his voice.

"The bed and breakfast. Papa, there was a man in our house who tried to kill me." She kept her voice low, in case the room next door was occupied.

"I know, my darling," he said. "I took care of him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he won't be coming back, just like Jule."

Her heart felt like it stopped at the mention of Jule's name, and she squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself not to think of him, lest her father choose that moment to read her mind.

"I've been waiting here for you to call. Have you been there for the past two days?" her father asked. "I've been trying to call your mobile."

"Yes," she forced herself to say. "I lost it when I was running from the man with the sword." Relief filtered through her; he hadn't found Jule. He was lying to her.

He was lying to her.

"Come on home, dear. It's safe. I promise."

"Okay, Papa." She hung up. There were few things in life she was certain about, and one of them was that she'd felt safer with Jule during their short time together than she ever did with her father.

She pulled out the piece of paper Jule had written on. It contained a name and a phone number.

"Damian," she read out loud.

She tucked the number away and left the bed and breakfast. She glanced down and realized she couldn't return home in clothing that was plainly not hers. After a quick stop at a clothier to pick up a long wool skirt and sweater, she changed in her car and drove home. Dread filled her as she drove up the familiar driveway to the stone manor.

The car still smelled of blood, and her thoughts went to Jule again as she exited the car. There was no sneaking in with a butler and maid waiting at the door. She hurried into the house and shed her boots and coat as fast as she could.

"My dear," her father called. He sounded pleased, unlike the moods he'd been in lately.

She braced herself to face him nonetheless.

"You're flushed. Are you well?" he asked.

"Just a bit distressed, Father."

"Come with me for just a moment, and I'll leave you to the rest of the evening."

She trailed him down the hallway towards the guest parlor. She was surprised to see three people within, none of whom looked like they fit in the refined, elegant spaces of the parlor. A man with caramel skin, a woman openly armed with a gun, and a man Jule's size with unnatural golden eyes.

"My daughter, Yully, has had a trying few days. It appears as if either you, Damian, or you, Jonny, sent someone to kill her. Look at her. What kind of creature would hurt a woman like this?" her father asked. "I've killed both the men who came for her and will kill any others. Gentleman, do not underestimate me."

Yully listened, dismayed by the lies stacking up on top of one another.

"It's a pleasure, Yully," the younger of the two men said. "Rest assured, I didn't send anyone to harm you."

"Thank you, Jonny," her father said. "Damian can't say the same. Jule was one of them."

"Jule," the large man said. "Jule tried to kill her." His piercing gaze went to her, and she felt compelled to answer him.

"Yes," she said. "Several days ago."

"He killed a Guardian as well," her father said. "He was a bartender where my daughter frequents."

"Jule wouldn't kill one of his own without good reason," Damian said, plainly unconvinced.

"Sean's dead?" Yully asked, not expecting the news.

"Yes, dear," her father said, attention on his visitors.

She felt even colder. Sean had been alive when her father knocked out Jule and brought him here the other night. If he was dead, it meant her father did it, not Jule, who had been in the basement.

The man named Damian still watched her. "I want Jule's body," he said.

"It's been sent to the immortal realm, where it belongs," her father replied.

"Bring it back."

"I summoned you here as a warning that your interference won't be tolerated. I don't take orders from your kind."

"If I remember correctly, this realm belongs to Jonny and me," Damian said with a spark of anger. "You are the guest. You will bring me Jule's body, or I will invite the Watchers in to do with you as they please."

"If they could find me, they would've by now, just like you'll never be able to retrace her steps back to this spot once you leave," her father said, his voice rising. "You don't give me orders, Damian."

Yully's heart was pounding. Her life was in danger, and so was Jule's. She didn't fully understand what was going on between her father and these people. Jule trusted this Damian, even though they were both the Guardians her father warned her about. Yet it had been her father who killed Sean, not the Guardian Jule. She patted the pocket in her skirt containing the paper on which Jule had scribbled down the phone number of the towering man before her.

"I call bullshit on this whole thing. No matter, I'm outta here," Damian said. "Gimme a ring if you have anything useful to say."

She sensed this comment was directed at her. Damian disappeared, followed by the man named Jonny and the woman with him. Her father turned to her, anger and triumph on his normally stoic features.

"Father, what's going on?" she questioned. "Who are all these people, and why are they after me?"

"It's a much longer story than I have time for," he replied. "Your magic gifts have blossomed, and they've attracted the attention of others with magic gifts."

"I thought there were no others."

"There are. You are one of what they call Naturals. Damian and Jonny collect Naturals for their own purposes, mainly to battle each other. It's like a chess game, and the humans are pawns to be used and destroyed," he explained. "That is not the fate for you, my dear."

"What is my fate?" she asked, absorbing the information that confirmed what Jule had told her about the war between good and evil on earth. Her father had just admitted there were more people like her, and she couldn't help her flicker of hope at the news.

"To become the princess I've always told you that you would be," he replied. "I know this is hard on you, but you'll soon see where you belong in this mess. Those two will continue to send people to kill you, just like Jule and the swordsman."

And Sean? What was his crime? She wanted to ask but didn't.

"You pity a Guardian?" His father's angry voice was accompanied by a slap. She closed her eyes and braced herself for another. "I'll protect you as I always have. I've killed hundreds to keep you safe and undiscovered, and I'll kill hundreds more. Don't you ever second-guess what I tell you."

"Father, I feel ill," she whispered.

"You probably never thought your father could kill a man before today. Know that I do it because I care about you, Yully, and want to keep you safe. Also understand that I'll kill anyone who comes between us and my plans," he warned. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Papa."

He left. She sat heavily, unable to fathom hundreds of people dying around her without her noticing. Worse, what was she that hundreds of people were willing to seek her out to kill her? Was her father a savior or a murderer?

Jule's a savior.

She suddenly felt more alone than ever and rubbed her stinging cheek. No matter what, she wasn't going to be defenseless again. Yully forced herself to her feet and strode through the house to the garage. Even if she couldn't kill the next swordsman that came for her, she could buy herself some time.

Her father's collection of weapons had been a source of curiosity for as long as she could remember. As she stepped into the armory in the corner of the large garage, she was struck by the care he took of the large collection. All his weapons were kept clean and loaded, from the crossbows to the guns in the gun locker. She'd thought his wall of swords, daggers, axes, and other medieval weapons were for ceremony. In looking at them again, she could see the time and effort that would've been required to keep them cleaned and sharpened.

The armory was not the collection of a wealthy connoisseur; this was the personal armory of a man accustomed to killing often. He'd trained her to use many of the weapons and encouraged her to visit the armory, even when she was young and too weak to lift a sword. She'd never before wondered how or why he knew so much about fighting. She'd assumed he'd trained her in place of the son he didn't have.

Even the crossbow she'd used the other night was clean and perched where she'd found it, loaded once again. She'd shot two men with it. She wondered how many other men had been killed by the clean, neatly aligned weapons in the armory.

"My name is Darian."

She whirled, her heart leaping. The man in the corner was tall with eyes that swirled gold like Damian's had. She snatched one of the handguns out of the small arms chest and aimed it at his head, fed up with surprises. Light and dark seemed to bend to avoid him, leaving a haze around his body.

"That won't work. I'm immune to lead!" he said and laughed. "Get it?"

She stared at him. He grew serious when she didn't respond.

"Anyway, Damian sent me. He said it's about Jule."

"What about Jule?" she asked. Yully lowered the weapon slowly. The man in the corner took that as in invitation to approach, and she moved behind the table her father used for laying out pieces of disassembled weapons in the center of the armory.

"I guess first off, is he alive?" the man called Darian asked. He stopped across from her. She had the sense of power shimmering in the air around him.

"As far as I know," she replied. "What are you?"

"I'm Darian," he said, though darkness crossed his features. "Jule was my closest friend until things went to shit. What are you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" he echoed. "Never met anyone more lost than I am."

"I'm not lost."

"You think an Other is your father, and you seem to think a Guardian of humanity is your enemy. I'd say you're lost."

"I don't understand any of what you said," she replied.

His gaze narrowed, as if about to accuse her of lying. Instead, he frowned.

"Jule's safe. He was hurt" she rushed on, not wanting to admit how, "but he's safe for now."

"Where?"

"Up the coast in a cottage."

"Assume I know nothing about Ireland," he said, amused. He held out a hand. "Show me in your mind."

She shook her head, recalling what she'd felt when she touched Jule.

"If he's hurt, I can help him," Darian said.

"Right now, I don't know who to trust," she said.

"Easy. Me. Jule's my friend."

"I just found out my father's running around killing people, and you expect me to trust a stranger when I don't even know if I can trust him anymore?"

"I understand," he said and was quiet. His gaze drew distant, as if he were remembering something dark. "I know what it is to be betrayed." His pain was almost palpable, and she couldn't help feeling it was too raw for him to fake. Unlike her father, this creature was capable of sympathy. Whatever had happened, the man before her was hurting still, like she did when her father hit her.

She held out her hand. He shook his head to clear it and reached across the island. She braced herself, expecting to feel some sort of rush of energy, like she did when she touched Jule. Instead, she felt a tingle in her thoughts and nothing else.

"Show me," he said.

She closed her eyes and retraced the route to the cottage in her mind, only distantly aware she was absorbing his energy.

"Did you tell him you can do this?" he asked, perplexed.

"Do what?" she asked and opened her eyes.

Their hands were bathed in the same strange haze that surrounded him. Surprised, she yanked her hand free.

"I resisted as much as I could, and you still stole my magic," Darian said, cocking his head to the side. "Would be useful for ..." He tensed. "Gotta go."

He disappeared, and she stared after him for a long moment before grabbing as many weapons as she could carry and returning to her room. She rested the weapons on her bed and locked the door.

She still felt defenseless against whatever creatures her father and the Guardians were. She sat for a moment, finally admitting she needed to embrace whatever it was about her that made her special. The recent chain of events made it impossible for her to deny something serious was going on, and she was somehow involved. She just had to convince her father to tell her what that was.

## Chapter Five

The Guardian Jenn watched the interrogation from the privacy of the two-way mirror. The Black God had failed to elicit anything other than a sneer with every one of his approaches. Four of the five vamps he'd chosen as bodyguards were exchanging looks of derision behind his back, and the vamp he tried to interrogate was openly ridiculing him. As much as she knew she shouldn't, Jenn pitied the young god. She'd interfere if it wouldn't make him look even weaker before his men.

At last, Jonny stormed out of the room, and Jenn emerged from the observation room into the hall. His body rippled with angry power that made her keep her distance. He slammed his hand into the wall.

"This isn't working!" he shouted.

"Then we take a different approach," she said. "You have more than one option."

"But this one knows exactly what I need to!"

"Don't fixate, Jonny," she advised. "If more than one person knows something, it's not a secret. This is the first lesson every good spy knows."

He met her gaze, listening.

"This vamp wasn't a loner. He has friends, doesn't he?" she asked.

"Several. I had our logs checked like you said. He's been working on the same team for years."

"There you go. Lesson two: everyone associated with your target is a potential weak point."

"What if they don't talk, either?"

"We try something else."

"Damian can read minds. Darian can read minds. I can't," he mused. "Xander said my powers will build slowly."

Upon arriving at the Black God's compound two days ago, Jenn had quickly learned the Black God had little control over his own powers and no respect from the vamps he led. It was a dangerous combination, one that could make his stint as Black God very short, if they found a way to kill him. Jenn said nothing, aware the vamps in the interrogation room were listening.

"This business is more complex than I thought," he admitted. "I guess I watched too many movies about spies to know how they really work."

"Good operatives have a box full of tricks. We've identified weak points in your organization. You must clean house, Jonny, or you'll never be able to go on the offensive."

"You'll help me go on the offensive against your own people?" he asked, facing her. The air around him rippled, reminding her he was as powerful as Damian. His power pushed her against the wall. She couldn't tell if he were doing it on purpose or simply had no control.

"Our agreement was for helping you clean house," she reminded him in a calm purr. "Besides, I'm going to help you get started. Thirty days isn't long enough for you to complete this first step, and it's crucial you do it right."

"I know you're right," he said slowly. The intensity around him faded, and the air released her. "It's harder than I thought."

She breathed a silent sigh. He'd drawn up on her twice since she arrived. Thus far, he'd listened to her, and she hoped he feared Damian enough to continue paying attention. Her gift for mind manipulation wasn't enough to influence the powerful God, and she'd found appeasing the lost young man and using the extent of her gift were both needed to influence him.

"Xander!" Jonny shouted and beat on the door to the interrogation room. The largest vamp she'd ever seen stepped into the hallway. "Bring his teammates here."

The vamp bowed his head and pushed past Jenn.

"Soon, Guardian," it whispered. "He can't protect you for long."

"Bring it, idiot," she replied, unfazed. "You wouldn't last past our first kiss."

The vamp barked a laugh and continued down the hall.

"You have no fear," Jonny said, his sharp gaze on the retreating vamp. "Even surrounded by the enemy?"

"The worst you can do is kill me," she replied. "Which is probably what your vamp in there is thinking."

Jonny's features grew thoughtful. "You're right."

"What're you thinking?" she asked.

"I'm thinking there are worse things than death," he replied. "Much worse."

"Like being forced into becoming the Black God?"

"It was my choice," he snapped. "I was thinking even someone who doesn't fear death, fears something else. It's a matter of finding what that is."

His gaze was hard, and she felt him flex his power again. His thoughts weren't on the vamp; they were on her. Jenn forced a smile on her face. She'd long since learned how to manipulate alpha males, and it wasn't by going head-to-head with them.

"I think you're right, Jonny," she said in the low, level voice she used with her trainees. "Fear is natural, even for Guardians and gods."

Her words soothed him again. He shook the tension out of his shoulders.

"I want you to go in with me this time," he said. "Call it moral support."

"Sure," she said.

They waited for Xander to return with the three vamps trailing him. With the exception of Xander's quick bow, they entered the interrogation room without acknowledging the Black God. Jenn glanced at Jonny, who looked agitated yet distracted. The kid was hard to read, and she guessed his anger had more to do with his struggle to understand his new role than the vamps who clearly had no respect for him.

Jonny entered, and she trailed him.

"I realize I've been taking the wrong approach," Jonny said. He sat in the chair in front of the vamp he'd fixated on. "I thought, if you wouldn't talk, your friends would."

"I'm not afraid of a boy." The vamp in front of him chuckled and tossed his head in greeting to his teammates.

"You should fear this boy."

Xander stepped back to the door beside Jenn. There was interest in his glowing red eyes, and she rested the palms of her hands on the knives at her belt.

"You think he can do it?" the vamp asked her.

"I think you need to keep your mouth shut," she replied.

"Sexy, even when you want to cut my head off."

"Anytime, shithead."

"You need to warn him." He eased away from her.

Jenn's gaze flew up to the strange vamp, and she followed his gaze. One of the members of Jonny's own personal guard had shifted forward and was discreetly drawing the weapon at his thigh. She never thought she'd find herself rooting for the Black God, but she willed Jonny to take control of the situation. The room full of vamps was ready to pounce on the fledgling god. They watched Jonny like they would their next victim. Her heart pounding, Jenn moved forward and whispered into Jonny's ear.

"You have about sixty seconds before we're both fighting for our lives," she warned.

Jonny glanced around the room, his hesitation giving more than one vamp confidence to draw their weapons openly.

"Talk to me," she urged. "Tell me anything."

"What do you want me to say?" he whispered.

"That'll do," she said to him then straightened. She addressed the vamp in front of Jonny. "He says if you don't cooperate, I get to kill your friends, one by one." She drew the gun at the small of her back and aimed it at the head of one of the vamps.

"Fuck you, bitch," the vamp sneered.

One of the other vamps drew a weapon. Jenn shot the first vamp and stepped in front of the next.

"Same thing, shithead. I get off on killing you idiots," she said in the same calm voice she used with Jonny. Her gaze went to Jonny. "May I, ikir?"

"Do it," Jonny ordered.

The vamp being interrogated no longer smiled. Jenn shot the second one. The vamp in front of Jonny launched towards her. She whirled and drew her knife, ready to kill all of them. A blur of black shot between her and the attacker. Jonny snatched the vamp by its neck and slammed it down to the table.

"How dare you mock me!" he roared, an inhuman note in his voice. "No one touches my Guardian!"

His display was too late. Jenn sensed the next vamp charge her and spun, burying her knife in the neck of the nearest before she lashed out with a kick at the next. A knife caught her arm, and she ducked a punch in the cramped space. Her knife found the shoulder of one vamp before a kick slammed her against the wall.

She vaulted to her feet, adrenaline flying through her. To her surprise, Xander stepped between her and the two pissed-off vamps waiting for her.

"Not this time," he warned them. "That goes for you, too, Guardian."

The two lowered their weapons in response, and she sheathed her knives with a glance at the blood bubbling on the scrape on her arm. Xander motioned the two vamps away. They retreated to the other side of the small room, and he stepped aside.

Jonny was silent and still, his eyes closed in concentration. The vamp whose neck he held had a look of horror on its face, and the air around them buzzed with magic. The light faded from the vamp's eyes, and it slid to the ground. Jonny released it and straightened.

"Xander," he said in a thin voice. "Kill those two. No one attacks my Guardian."

Xander drew his weapons and crossed to the two vamps, chopping them down. Jenn watched. Xander didn't move like she expected a man his size to move. His brutal strength and otherworldly agility made the futile attempts of the vamps look like they were swatting flies instead of fighting for their lives.

"I'll have this mess cleaned up," Xander said when he'd finished.

The Black God nodded. His face was drawn as he strode past Jenn. Her gaze went from him to the vamp on the other side of the room staring her down. He flipped the knife in his hand.

"Jenn," Jonny called.

"On my way," she replied then addressed Xander. "I never met a vamp who tried to keep a Guardian alive."

He sheathed his knife and crossed to her. She refused to back down, unwilling to let his attempt to intimidate her work.

"Let's just say, you're not the only one here with a hidden agenda," he replied. "I know what you're doing here, Guardian. Remember your place, or I'll make the Black God look like your fairy godmother."

He breezed by her again. She'd met enough Guardians and vamps to know how unique each was, but she'd never met a creature like this one. She shook her head and trotted after Jonny, who paced madly in the hall.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Jenn, I think ... I'm not sure what to do."

"Jonny, hon, let me tell you one thing," she said and approached close enough she was certain no one else could overhear her. "Don't say things like that. You need to pretend you know what to do, even if you don't. These things will eat you alive."

"They can't kill me."

"There are things worse than death," she reminded him.

He smiled faintly and nodded, striking off down the hall towards his private wing of the underground facility. She trailed him, slowing when she turned the corner leading to his apartments.

Xander stood before the Black God's quarters. Two more vamps assigned as Jonny's guards stood on either side of the door to his personal chambers. The massive vamp ignored her, and she saw Jonny stop to speak to him. Xander gave a quick bow in response before meeting her gaze with a look that warned her she wouldn't like what Jonny had just told him to do. Her sense of dread grew as she approached and followed Jonny into his apartment.

The door closed behind her, and the young Black God threw himself into a large leather chair in the middle of the living room.

"I saw what he was hiding," Jonny started, features troubled once again. "But I don't understand it."

"What was it?" she asked and sat across from him.

"The Others are acquiring a weapon, but ... it didn't seem quite right. The vamp said something about splitting the sky."

Jenn dwelled on his words. They meant little to her, but to Damian, they could mean something.

"Maybe I misunderstood. I've never been in anyone's mind before."

"You can only know what the vamp did," Jenn said. "I don't know what it means, either."

"I need some time alone," Jonny said abruptly and rose, facing away from her.

"I'll go to the gym. Let me know when you need anything," she said. His mood swings weren't unexpected. He was young and scared. Itching to relieve some of her own nervous energy after the run-in with the vamps, she'd reached the door when Jonny spoke again.

"Jenn, thank you for helping me today."

"It's why I'm here," she replied.

"You defended me. My own vamps won't do that."

"It'll take a while for you to adjust and for them to adjust to someone new."

"Thank you for your loyalty. I never imagined any Guardian would go to the extent that you have. I'm happy you're among us. I'll treat you well, as long as you remain loyal."

She frowned at his tone, as if he considered her the newest, permanent member of his organization and not the guest she was. Jenn left without saying anything, once again unable to get a read on the kid. Sometimes, when he was afraid, he was easy for her to understand. Sometimes he gave her the creeps, and she suspected he was sharper than he let on.

She stopped in the hallway and turned. Xander trailed her.

"Making sure you go where you say you will," he said. She turned her back on him in blatant disregard he wasn't likely to misinterpret.

The number of female vamps outnumbered the number of female Guardians, and she ducked into the locker room for the females. Ignoring the hisses of the others, she locked herself in a bathroom stall and texted her boss, Dusty.

Others have a weapon. Want to split the heavens. Something weird going on here.

Dusty's response was quick. Roger. You ok?

Jenn snorted, wondering how she explained there was only one vamp in an entire organization of inhuman blood suckers that gave her the creeps. In the end, she typed a smiley face and locked her phone before changing into gym clothes and making her way to the gym.

The instincts that warned her Jonny wasn't as naïve as he seemed were confirmed when she stepped into the gym and saw Xander standing in the doorway, watching her. The boy-god was taking no chances she betrayed him. Looking over the largest vamp she'd ever seen, she had a feeling a confrontation between them wouldn't end well for her.

* * *

Jule was beginning to think death was better than his weakened state. He'd managed to add more wood to the fire and tear the stitches in his chest while doing so. Soup was out of the question; it might as well have been a million miles away in the kitchen. He rested against the cushions. He'd never been human, and he had no idea how long it took for a human body to heal. It seemed like too long already, especially since the woman was alone to protect herself.

His dream, the one about the Original Vamp, hadn't returned. It seemed too real, and he'd dwelled long on what he could remember of the conversation.

Xander. Original Beings.

"Jule?" Darian's voice jarred him out of his thoughts. "You here?"

"Yeah, Darian," he called.

Darian emerged from the kitchen, trailed by a small, shapely woman with dark, curly hair tied in a ponytail. Jule's gaze fell to the necklace she wore.

"Dusty's mate?" he asked, looking her over again. Her smile was quick and warm, her brown eyes dancing. "I thought you'd be more like Attila the Hun."

"I'm Bianca," the woman said in a voice as soft as her eyes.

Jule wasn't sure what to expect when she knelt beside him. Cool, healing energy coursed through him, lulling him into a near doze.

"Done!" she announced. "I can't take away the weakness you feel, but your body is healed."

"How the hell did Dusty end up with someone like you?" he asked and looked down at himself, impressed.

She laughed, a contagious sound, and he saw her effect even on Darian, who had relaxed and sat in a chair nearby. Her presence would have the same calming effect on Dusty, who was the most wound-up man Jule knew.

"Her brother's the Black God," Darian said out of nowhere.

"Always knew women were a curse," Jule said.

"Darian," Bianca objected. "Remember what Dusty said. No stressing Jule out."

Darian rolled his eyes.

"I'm a grown man, woman, I can take it," Jule said with a snort.

"You probably shouldn't be fighting anyone until you're better," she said. "Though I've learned none of you will listen to that advice."

"You keep giving it. It's always nice to know someone cares," Jule replied. "And I bet you never shot Dusty or ran him over with a car."

"That little girl did this?" Darian asked, eyes narrowing.

"In her defense, she thought I was trying to kill her."

"Were you?"

"Yeah, at one point," Jule said. "She's been told some real fucked-up stuff about the Guardians."

"Well, if you tried to kill her, you probably didn't help things," Darian said wisely.

Jule ignored him and tested his body. He rose and stretched, stiff and weak but healed. He hadn't seen a Healer since before the Schism and offered his hand to Bianca. She took it, and he pulled her up.

"I think you need to get back there," Darian added, frowning. "Some weird shit's going on with the Others. One of Dusty's spies found out the Others have a weapon they want to use, we think to open the gateway between the immortal and mortal worlds."

"One of the Watchers told me similar. I can't get close enough to anything to learn more without getting myself killed. You have any insight into why my power is jacked up?" Jule asked.

"I broke something, I think. The Watchers are pissed at me. They're not talking to me right now."

"You're in good company. They're the ones who told me to kill the girl."

"Really?" Darian's interest was piqued. "I'll ask Sofi about that." He exchanged a look with Bianca.

"We can fix you, Jule," she said, turning to him. "We experimented on Dusty."

"The Watchers stripped the Guardians of power, but their base of power is in the immortal realm. I'm not, uh, restricted to either realm," Darian said. "I seem to be coloring outside the lines in every way possible. I can do things Damian and the Black God can't."

"Like restore something the Watchers took?" Jule asked, surprised.

"With Bianca's help. We can't restore everything, but we can give you back most of your powers."

"Do it."

"You may not be strong enough yet," Bianca said, considering.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea. I'll be fine," he said in amusement.

"If he survived as a human, he'll survive this," Darian seconded. "I'll rip you open, and Bianca will heal you."

It was her turn to roll her eyes but she held out a hand to Jule. Darian held out his as well, and Jule took both their hands, at once bombarded with Bianca's cool energy and Darian's hot energy. The sensations whipped through him, reminding him how human he really was. It wasn't like the Magician's magic, which somehow fused with his, as if they were one person sharing one source of power.

Maybe even one soul.

"Fuck!" he muttered, dropping to his knees. Cool and warm turned to frigid and blazing, and he felt their powers coalesce at his core, forcing something open that had been closed by the Watchers. Darian's power burned while Bianca's healed the invisible wounds created by the Grey God. The pain increased until Jule was near passing out. Suddenly, it stopped, and his own warm power flooded him. He released their hands, panting.

Jule sat back on his haunches, dizzy with the abrupt return of his power. It settled into him, and he flexed it.

"Don't do that too much," Darian warned. "We're trying to lay low and not attract the attention of the Watchers."

We could use the help of a couple of Original Beings. The thought came from nowhere, and Jule thought again of the vamp from his fever dream.

"Everyone on the planet is out to get this girl. I doubt I'll have a choice soon," he replied.

"I can use her, Jule."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I might be able to seal the breach I made, if it doesn't get bigger and I can borrow Damian's power. I touched her so she could show me where you were, and I felt what she can do," Darian said. "You gotta keep her alive while Damian figures out what to do."

"I will," Jule said. "If I fought off a guardsman as a human, I can take on an Other with my powers back."

"Or die trying."

"That, too."

"You men really are crazy," Bianca said. "Not an ounce of common sense in any of you."

"Just fighting for a higher cause," Jule said with a smile. "You married an assassin. Of all of us, your mate's the worst."

"Retired assassin," she corrected sweetly. "He's not allowed to kill people anymore."

Jule laughed. "Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah," Darian said. "Some things have changed. She's a slave driver. Dusty's not allowed out of his room without her-- "

"Darian!" she said with a laugh. She punched him in the arm, and he feigned a look of pain.

Jule's throat tightened as he listened to the two of them spar verbally. Darian had been a shell of a man when Sofi found him several months ago. Now there was life and light in his eyes, even if he wasn't quite the man Jule remembered. He carried on with Bianca like the sister she now was, and Jule couldn't help feeling a sense of gratitude towards the small woman with the quick smile, warm gaze, and healing energy. Between her and Sofi, they'd brought Darian back from the dead.

"I'll let you two fight this out," Jule said with a smile. "I've gotta get to the station. Thank you both, and send my regards to D and Dusty."

Jule closed his eyes, relishing in the ability to Transport himself once more. No more walking across Ireland for him! When he opened his eyes, he found a gruesome sight awaiting him.

"Been trying to call you, Jule," the blond Guardian said from his seat on the couch. He ran a hand through his hair. "Sean's dead. I found his body behind his bar. I don't know what did this to him, but it wasn't a human or a vamp. Whatever it was, it tore him in half."

Jule's gaze dropped to the blanket-covered body laid carefully on the living room floor. His smile faded.

* * *

Damian tapped the knife against his boot, deep in thought. The computer screen before him was blank, but he didn't notice.

"You want me to kill Jule," he repeated at long last.

"Yes, ikir. He refused to do as we said and kill his target. He's a threat to the survival of the Guardians, if he chooses to protect her," the Watcher said.

"Let's pretend for a moment that I actually believe anything you're saying," he said. "There's no benefit for anyone if Jule is killed. So what if he failed at taking out a target?"

"If he chooses to protect this target from us-- "

"First," Damian said, standing, "Jule doesn't take orders from you. Second, if he didn't execute his target, he has a damned good reason. I trust him over you without question. What I really want to know is why Jule is of any interest to you at all."

The Watcher was silent.

"If you can't answer that, then I'm not going to help you," Damian said. "And the girl? She looked far less harmless than the Other. Why aren't you going after the Other?"

"We can't track them in the mortal realm," the Watcher said. "If you let Jule live, you must kill her. There is no other way to keep the Other from destroying everything."

As much as he hated these creatures, he had to admit that they often led him in the right direction. Damian would never kill his brother, Jule, but if the woman was dangerous enough to warrant a Watcher's attention, he couldn't look the other way.

She'd looked harmless to him, beautiful and scared.

"So I have to do my job because you can't do yours," he summarized. "I'll send Dusty."

"Thank you, ikir," the Watcher said. "In time, I hope to provide more answers."

Damian didn't respond, silently cursing the being. Satisfied it was getting what it wanted, the Watcher left him alone. The more Damian dealt with them, the less he wanted to deal with them again. The fact the mysterious creatures could find him whenever they wanted made him cautious about outright opposing them. Still, he wanted them out of his hair-- permanently.

Damian sought out Sofi, both for her calming influence and any tidbits of what she might've Seen. She was in the kitchen with Bianca and looked up with a smile when he entered.

"How're you feeling?" he asked. He rested his hand on her expanding stomach and his chin on her head.

"Great."

"Bianca, my son will need a playmate. You and Dusty better catch up," Damian teased his brother's mate.

"Dusty is just now on good terms with my cat," Biana replied. "I think a kid is a while down the road!"

Damian looked down at Sofi and raised an eyebrow. She winked. He hugged her, a darker thought crossing his mind as he held her and their child close. If the Watchers could find him, they could find her-- and their son. His desire to expel the Watchers from the planet solidified. He could handle the Black God, at least for the time being. Jenn would come back with enough information on the Black God's organization, that Damian could counter the fledgling god for quite some time. The Watchers, however, were a different story entirely. He had no recourse against them yet.

"You don't need to worry about us," Sofi said quietly.

"The world is going to shit, and you're telling me not to worry."

"Sometimes the answer is right in front of you. You're just too stubborn to see it."

He pushed her away from him, eyeing her. She smiled faintly and lifted her chin towards the kitchen door. Damian turned in time to see the vamp Charlie struggling to drag a skinned deer carcass across the threshold. The vamp dropped it.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Damian demanded.

"It's okay, Damian," Bianca said quickly. "We have a system. He catches deer, drains them of blood, skins them, and I cook 'em up for dinner."

"That's where our venison is coming from?"

"It's better than letting him kill the neighboring rancher's cows or my rescue animals."

"I fucking hate housework," the vamp said with a growl. "You make me do woman's work, ikir."

Damian looked the vamp over. It had taken Dusty two days to drill a routine and sense of discipline into the vamp, which was one day too many to the schedule-addicted assassin. Damian, however, was impressed he was able to do it at all. Vamps weren't known for their smarts.

"So Charlie just roams free in the house?" he asked.

"Charles," the vamp corrected him.

"He really doesn't like being called Charlie," Sofi echoed. "He's a person of sorts, too, Damian."

"I'm keeping him safe from the women, ikir," Pierre, Sofi's bodyguard, added. The large, blond Guardian was rarely more than five feet from his charge and sat in the corner.

"Am I the only sane one here? Who domesticates a vamp?" Damian demanded.

Pierre was unfazed by his raised voice and continued playing a game on his phone. The women paused in their activities to look at him. Gauging by the huge basket of yarn at her side, Sofi was crocheting an entire wardrobe for their unborn son. Bianca was cooking something that made him wonder if the vamp killed their lunch, too. The two women resumed their activities, unaffected by his outburst.

"Charles, this needs chopped," Bianca said cheerfully, holding out an onion.

The vamp moved forward with a frown and hacked the onion apart with a vengeance that displayed his distaste.

"I can do other things, ikir," the vamp said. "I can fight and hunt."

"Damian, why not give him a shot at something?" Sofi asked. Her voice was quiet, and he couldn't help wondering if she'd Seen something important enough to tolerate a vamp in her household.

"He's really good with details," Bianca volunteered. "Look." She started to hand him what looked like an intricate carving in the side of an orange. The vamp snatched it and crushed it with his hand, glaring at her.

She rolled her eyes at him and returned to the cauldron of soup on the stove. The vamp stared at Damian.

"Fine. I'll assign him something to do," Damian said. "So you hunt and fight. Do you do anything else?"

"I'm an urban warfare tactics trainer specializing in tracking. I can track any animal, any kind of creature."

"Interesting," Damian said. "Can you track immortals?"

"I can." There was no hesitation in the vamp's response. Damian reconsidered the vamp before looking at Sofi, who ignored him.

"Can you track Watchers?" he asked.

"I've successfully tracked Others and trained vamps with the tracking gift to do so as well," the vamp replied. "I've never tried Watchers."

"You can track Others," Damian repeated. "I can't even track them."

"You know vamps have gifts like Guardians," Sofi said. "He's a Hunter. If he hadn't chosen to become a vamp, he'd be a very useful Guardian."

Another thought crossed Damian's mind, one that told him his little Oracle must've known who Jonny would've chosen to send him in exchange for Jenn. A vamp who could track Others was an invaluable treasure, especially if Charles could also track the sneaky little Watchers.

"You can train my Guardians to hunt Others?" he asked. "And figure out if you can hunt Watchers, too?"

"Yes, ikir. I'd do anything to get out of the fucking kitchen," Charles replied. Bianca coughed to cover her laugh, and Pierre seconded the vamp with a quiet amen.

"Well, then, let's get started," Damian said and motioned for the vamp to follow as he strode towards the house's back door. "You'll work with Darian."

"The Grey God?" Charles asked, trailing.

"Yes, the Grey God."

"I can track, but I won't fight an Other, if that madman chooses to fight one."

"Darian's not crazy enough to challenge an Other," Damian said. Silently, he admitted Darian wouldn't back down if an Other crossed his path.

Darian was where he expected to find him: in the gym. The Grey God rose from the weight bench as soon as he spotted Damian.

"Lookin' good, brother," Damian said with a smile. He couldn't get over seeing his brother whenever he wanted, after so long without him. "This is Charlie ... Charles. He has a useful gift. Apparently, he can track Others, and maybe even Watchers."

"Good. I have a couple Others on my list of people to kill," Darian said.

The vamp snorted. "I warned you, ikir."

"I really am the only one with sense around here. No, Darian," Damian said, perplexed. He'd gone away for a few months and returned to an entirely new world. "You're not going to fight any of them. Just learn to track them while we have Charles here."

Darian nodded and looked the vamp up and down.

"Play well together, or it's back to the kitchen with you, Charles," Damian warned.

The vamp growled low in his chest. Damian left the unpredictable Grey God with the seasoned vamp. The plan he'd begun to form was finally taking shape. If the Watchers and Others couldn't hide from him, he was one step closer to finding a way to rid the planet of both. And Darian was the final key.

* * *

"Let's try this again," Yully's father said. "You must focus on controlling your breathing and keep your eye on the target."

Yully drew a deep breath, like she did when she was shooting clay pigeons. She focused on the target, a plate above the hearth. She'd never suspected the depths of her father's strange power, and her first attempt to channel it was the reason the house was now lit with candles. She'd shorted out the electricity.

"Breathe in, take what you can, and hold it," he instructed. "It's the same thing you do to change an object into another, only normal objects have far less energy to control."

She braced herself and pulled his power into her, struggling to control it while panic rose. It wanted to roam around her body instead of staying at her core, where she wanted it.

"Good," her father said. "Don't fight it. It can't hurt you. You're like a vase and the magic is the water."

Yully forced herself to relax. Her grip on his hand tightened, while she loosened her grip on the foreign magic in her body.

"It feels so weird," she said. "Hot and cold mixed together and almost like it's raining inside me. I can't describe how strange this is, Father."

"Does it obey you?"

She concentrated hard, her eyes on the plate across the parlor. Instead of answering, she raised her arm and steadied her breath, as if she were holding a handgun. She willed the magic to hit its target. Lightning streaked from her fingertips, and she felt the magic sucked from her. It flew across the parlor, and the plate exploded.

"Very, very good," he said, an odd glow in his eyes as he gazed at the place where the plate had been.

"I understand what I'm doing, but I don't understand why." She chose her words carefully. "Of what use is this type of talent?"

"There are many things I'm forbidden from telling you." Her father released her hand and gazed at her for a long moment. "The world is becoming a more dangerous place for you, and I'd hoped we could wait until the winter solstice to perform the rite. However, the Guardians are growing more aggressive, and they now know where you are. We have one chance to save humanity."

He was lying. She felt it. Yully cleared her mind to keep him from seeing that thought and nodded.

"You are like an empty vessel. You can be filled with water from any source. You can be filled with water from multiple sources. The same skill you've learned this morning, you can use against any Guardian or a whole group of Guardians. Let's try this," he said. "Stand before me."

Intrigued by his words, she obeyed and stood before him.

"Close your eyes. I want you to sense my magic without touch."

Yully's eyes closed, and she focused hard on feeling something other than Jule, whose presence still lingered in her body. The harder she concentrated, the louder Jule's heartbeat grew, as if their bodies were pressed together again.

"No, Father," she said with some frustration.

Her father touched her arm, and fire tore through her. She gasped.

"That should unlock the rest of your gift," he explained. "I'd hoped not to have to do this, but I can't wait for you to figure it out."

Jule's brand on her soul was even more intense, enough so that she physically ached for him. Muddling through the sensations, she sensed her father's magic. It was like standing in front of a bonfire.

"I feel you," she breathed.

"Good. Pull the magic into you. This time, don't blow up one of my antiques."

There was no resistance this time as she drew his magic into her, gathered it, and focused it. She sent a chair sailing across the room.

"I always knew you were the one," her father said, showing excitement for the first time since she could remember. "Come with me. One more thing, and I'll let you rest. We only have a couple of days until the autumn equinox."

His power moved through her like a wind in a forest. Everything in the room radiated some sort of subtle energy, and she waded through the energies, marveling and confused by them. Yully followed him out into the cold, rainy afternoon. He didn't pause for their coats, so she bypassed the cloak room and crossed her arms as she exited the warm house.

The energies of the things in the house were replaced by new energies coming from the ground. They were faded and distant, and she looked down as she followed her father. He paused in the middle of the lawn that stretched between the house and the massive garage.

"Can you feel them?" he asked, facing her.

Shivering, she nodded, puzzled. It was as if small objects had been buried in the ground, and their weak magic was muffled.

"Is this a test, Father?" she asked, anxious to get out of the cold rain. "Did you bury things out here to see if I could feel them?"

"Yes," he replied. "And you do. Can you draw the energy into you?"

She walked in a circle until she found the strongest of the energy patterns in the vicinity and paused above it. The magic crept up through her shoes and into her legs, warming her body as it went.

"I can, Papa," she said.

"Try more than one. They're scattered all across our lawns."

She closed her eyes and concentrated again. She sensed Jule, her father, and hundreds-- no, thousands!-- of tiny signatures surrounding them. The energy came when she opened herself. Yully struggled to control the energies into her body, still leery of the invaders.

"You're glowing," her father said in a hushed tone. "I've been waiting for you for so long, Yully."

She opened her eyes and looked down. She didn't seem to glow to her own eyes, though she suddenly realized the rain no longer fell on her. Holding out her arm, she was fascinated to see the rain arc to avoid it.

"This was all I needed to know," her father said. "Now, into the house, before you fall ill."

He strode to the house, and she trailed, fascinated by the sensation of stepping over the energy sources. She released the energies, and they returned to their sources.

"How long did it take you to bury all these things?" she asked.

"Ten years or so," he replied.

"So you just randomly took things from the house and buried them?" She couldn't help her smile. "I can't see you in the rain digging a hole for a toaster."

"My dear, these aren't toasters," he said and echoed her chuckle. "They're Guardians and guardsmen who would've seen you dead. I didn't send their souls to the immortal realm, because I'd hoped you'd be standing here one day, able to drain the magic from them."

She froze, the warmth of the magic leaving her as fear replaced it.

"Father, there are thousands," she said, looking around her. She tried to assess how many there might be. "Tens of thousands."

"I guess I'd forgotten how many there were. The more the better. We'll need all their magics on the autumn equinox." He disappeared into the house, and she stayed where she was, horrified.

Guardians. He'd killed and buried Jule's kind. Jule, whose soul had somehow lingered in her body when she'd touched him, and who had become the only man she'd ever felt safe around. Even her father's magic was gone when she expelled it.

... you seem to think a Guardian of humanity is your enemy, Darian had said.

Her replacement cell phone rang, jarring her. She answered it with numb fingers.

"Hey," Jule said.

"Hey," she answered.

"I hear it in your voice. What's wrong?"

"I can't talk about it," she replied in a tight voice. "What do you want?"

"We're having a wake for Sean tomorrow. I thought you'd like to say goodbye."

Yully squeezed her eyes closed, relieved the bartender wasn't buried in her backyard with the others.

"I don't think my father would approve of me seeing you," she managed. "I mean, of me going."

"Sean would probably appreciate it if you came. His death wasn't a pleasant one."

She didn't want to imagine what her father was capable of. Her gaze went to the lawn around her. She owed it to the dead to attend one Guardian's wake.

"I'll do my best," she said at last.

"Noon tomorrow, on the cliff opposite the cottage."

Yully hung up. She wanted to scream, cry, or flee. The same part of her that recoiled at draining dead men's magic also understood one truth: she was no match for her father, if he decided to bury her with them.

With a deep breath, Yully left the graveyard and returned to the manor, determined to find a way to leave for Sean's wake.

## Chapter Six

Jenn snapped awake and sat, reaching for the gun under her pillow. The walls of the underground facility were trembling from a shockwave of power that made her Guardian senses hum with danger. She changed quickly out of her sleepwear and loaded her body down with weapons then drew a knife and her gun.

She left the room assigned her by Jonny, two doors down from his in his private wing. His guards lay dead in the hallway before his door, and she leapt over their bodies, shoving the door to his apartments open.

"Jonny?" she called. "Are you here?" A quick exploration of his apartments showed two more dead vamps but no Black God.

Jenn trotted through the halls, hopping over dead vamps as she went. No other sounds stirred but that of her boots over concrete. None of the vamps she'd seen yet were alive. The shockwaves faded, and she stood in the middle of an intersection, stretching out with her Guardian senses to find some kind of life.

"C'mon, Jonny, be alive," she whispered.

A faint pulse of life came from the direction of the gym. Jenn ran through the halls, certain no vamp was about to get in her way when all of them so far were dead. She pushed open the door to the gym. Emergency lighting glowed along the walls, and the strange silhouettes of workout machines made her pause and wait for her night vision to filter out machine from potential attacker.

Nothing was alive in here, either. Alarmed, she picked her way through the rows of machines towards the door leading to the sparring mats. The lights were on in here, and Jonny's form lay in the center of about a hundred dead vamps.

"Jonny!" she exclaimed, rushing forward. She dropped to her knees beside him and pushed him onto his back. "Jonny!"

The only thing she could've imagined happening was an ambush. Jonny's body was bloodied and beaten, though his pulse was strong. Jenn checked his eyes and lowered her ear to his mouth to make sure he was breathing.

"Fancy seeing you alive."

She whipped around, weapon pointed at Xander as he appeared through the doorway. His gaze took in the dead vamps. Jenn had wanted to shoot him since meeting him, and she opened fire. Xander held up a hand, catching the bullets and then tossing them.

Her arm dropped.

"You'll have to use your bare hands," he said, looking her over. "No human weapon can hurt me."

"Why did you do this?" she demanded. She holstered the gun and drew a knife. "You can't kill him."

"I can't claim this massacre. But I can claim credit for saving you from ending up like the rest of them."

"Jenn ..." Jonny's voice was weak. She stepped back over his body, unwilling to lower her guard against the large vamp whose gaze was on her.

"Jonny, hon, what happened?" she asked.

"Help me up." He held out his hand. She pulled him to his feet.

"Stay behind me, Jonny," she directed him. "I'll take care of this."

"No, no, Jenn. I did this," Jonny said. He wobbled on his feet and shook his head. "They ambushed me. I was trying to ... I don't know what happened."

"You killed every vamp in the facility," she told him.

"Really?"

"Except for Xander here, who seems immune to just about everything."

"I'm just that tough," Xander said. Jonny looked at the massive vamp, who made no move to close the distance between them.

"He's just really tough," Jonny said. "You survived, too, Jenn."

"The Black God saved those who were loyal to him," Xander supplied.

"That makes sense," Jonny said.

"No, it doesn't," Jenn countered, watching Xander manipulate the boy-god without knowing how he did it.

"Know your place, Guardian," Xander warned in a lower voice.

"I'm ready when you are, vamp."

"Enough," Jonny snapped, dabbing at the blood on his face. "All I know is that I wanted them to stop beating me. Xander's right, Jenn. You two are the only people I trust. I'm sick of living underground anyway."

"Safer underground," Jenn and Xander said simultaneously.

"I don't care. Xander, find me somewhere safe above ground. Jenn, help me to my room. I need to rest."

"I know somewhere safe," Xander said. "We can go now. This place is compromised. Everyone within a hundred miles felt what you did."

"Somewhere safe above ground, with vamps who are loyal?" Jonny asked.

"As you command." Xander held out his hand.

"Jonny-- " Jenn objected.

"Take us there," Jonny cut her off. He limped to Xander.

"Your Guardian must come," Xander said.

"Jenn, you must come with me," Jonny echoed.

Her instincts on high alarm, she met Xander's gaze. The vamp smiled slowly. She replaced her weapon and crossed to him, unwilling to show fear. No matter what, she had to stay with Jonny. She accepted Jonny's hand rather than Xander's and closed her eyes to the cold sensations of Transporting. When she opened them, they stood outside a stone façade of a compound built into the side of a mountain and surrounded by evergreen trees whose branches were heavy with snow.

"Where are we?" Jonny asked.

"Pacific northwest," Xander answered. "At one of your compounds."

"I was thinking Miami," the Black God admitted. "I'm not used to cold weather."

"This is the safest place you could be, but whatever you desire, I will obey."

"No, no, this is fine. It looks safe. I just need to rest."

Xander stepped aside and Jonny walked through the front door. Jenn started forward, not surprised when the vamp blocked her path.

"You got a problem with me?" she demanded.

"A huge one."

"I'll be gone in three and a half weeks. Deal with it." She brushed by him.

"Do you spar, Guardian?" he called after her.

"Not with vamps."

"Shame."

She faced him. "Why is that?"

"You make a good adversary."

"Of all the Guardians out there, how did I end up your personal adversary?"

"You're the first Guardian I've ever met without killing. I'm curious."

"Likewise, but I intend to kill you before this is over," she told him. "Although, not before I find out what you are."

"There's no mystery to what I am."

"You're no more loyal to Jonny than I am. You survived whatever it was he did, because you aren't a vamp. You're feeding him information that he somehow accepts as truth."

The massive vamp crossed his arms and drew closer as she spoke. He stopped within arms' reach.

"Imagine what I could tell him about you." His threat was a low growl.

"What do you want, Xander?"

"I want to know why a Guardian is so interested in protecting a Black God. Personalizing a mission gets people killed."

"It's not personal," she replied. "I was sent to train him, and I will complete my mission."

"What was your first thought when you felt the power surge?"

I hope Jonny's okay. She clenched her jaw.

"Your feelings are in the way," he continued.

He gripped her forearm. She snapped into motion, but he deflected her next strike as easily as he had those of the vamps he killed. The vamp snatched the phone from her pocket and stepped away, hands raised. Furious, her glare went from the phone in his hand to his gaze.

"You're on your own now. Let's see if you can make it through the month," he said and dropped the cell. He smashed it with his heel.

Jenn strode into the compound. She wasn't afraid to be alone. She'd been deep undercover in much worse situations. Xander, however, was a complication she'd never before run across. He wouldn't respond to her mind manipulation attempts, and he was able to control Jonny. She had nothing but charisma and the knowledge the Black God was fond of her.

Neither of those things would matter when dealing with Xander.

Vamps growled as she passed them but made no move to impede her. At the far end of the main floor of Jonny's new home glowed a panoramic window fitted into the mountainside. Chairs lined the window, and she saw why. The window overlooked the neighboring mountain, coated in white with clouds clinging to its peak. Jonny had been drawn to the view as she was and stood before the window.

Jenn didn't approach, instead sinking into the shadows of one of the many pillars providing support all along the main floor. She didn't know what Xander was, but he'd said one thing that struck her hard.

She really had personalized the mission. She'd defended the Black God, a young man she knew was partly in love with her, against his own kind. The training was part of what Damian wanted her there to do, and she mixed training with good old-fashioned spy techniques. She was learning as much about the Black God's organization as she could, from numbers of vamps to locations of their compounds to the Black God's own skills.

Jonny had entrusted her with a lot. Aside from assigning Xander to keep an eye on her, the Black God hadn't restricted her access to anything. She'd taken in everything she could, like any good operative would. But pitying him, defending him, helping him command his own men ...

The vamp was right, and she hated to admit it. She was near the line of what she was there to do, if not over it. She'd been one of the first Guardians to talk to Jonny weeks ago, before his transformation to the Black God. He'd been a good kid, lost, but honorable. He became the Black God instead of letting his sister die. She still saw him as the lost kid that could be saved, not the Black God who was past salvation of any kind.

What she didn't understand was why a vamp would consider it his job to remind her of her mission. Something was wrong in the Black God's camp, and she couldn't figure out what. Xander crossed to the Black God. The two spoke for a few moments before Xander bowed his head and walked away.

Jenn followed him this time. Vamps moved out of his way as he strode through the halls, and several bowed their heads as he passed. They showed more respect for him during his short trip down the hall than they had for the Black God during the few days she'd been with Jonny. Xander knew the compound and ascended a narrow stairwell to the second floor. She watched from the stairwell as he entered one of the rooms, lining the hall. She waited, but he didn't emerge again. Satisfied to have found his room, Jenn made her way back to the window, where Jonny remained. He sat and stared out the window while nibbling on a piece of cheese from the plate of cheese and crackers on a small table at his side.

Unwilling to disturb his solitary mood, Jenn leaned back against a pillar and watched.

* * *

By the time she reached the cliff Jule indicated the next day, Yully's soul was humming like an electric wire. She could now feel everything around her, and she assumed whatever her father unlocked was the cause.

She was late by an hour. Only two forms and a body draped in black remained on the cliff side. Fog coated the ocean, and a cold, moist wind made her eyes water. She shivered despite her lamb's wool coat, her hands plunged deep into pockets that contained weapons.

The closer she stepped to Jule, the more her body hummed. Something had happened during their separation; he glowed in the fog and mist. Unable to take her eyes from him, she approached slowly. His long, sleek hair was tied in a tight braid, and despite the cold and wind he wore only a long-sleeved sweater that hugged the muscles of his arms and shoulders beneath a down vest. His suede pants clung to long, thick thighs and were tucked into heavy boots.

She didn't remember him being so large. The closer she got, the stronger she felt him. Startled by the bond, she stopped.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said without turning.

"I did it for Sean," she replied. "I'd known him for a few years, even if it was only in passing."

"He would appreciate it. I do, too," Jule said then motioned to the blond man. "This is Rourk, my other Guardian assigned to Ireland."

Her eyes went to the beefy blond. He tipped his head in a silent greeting. His face was solemn.

"Come closer," Jule said in a quiet voice.

She did, stepping apprehensively to the foot of Sean's body. He was tightly wrapped in black fabric, his head towards the ocean.

"We have an old tradition, dating back to the time before the mortal and immortal worlds were split," Jule said. "There are three of us who can release a Guardian's soul." He knelt beside Sean's body as he spoke.

"What happens if they're not released?" she asked.

"They're imprisoned in their bodies for eternity. They know no peace."

Her throat tightened at his words. She couldn't help thinking of all the Guardians buried in her yard. Jule's next words were low and in a tongue she didn't understand. The hand he rested on Sean's forehead glowed bright in the fog. Jule's hand grew too bright to look at directly, and a small ball formed in his palm. He tossed it in the air, and it dissipated into sparkles that floated upward.

Sean's body collapsed beneath the blanket, and the ocean's wind whipped the cloth into the air. Rourk snatched it before it flew away.

"Farewell, brother," he said.

Yully wiped her eyes, touched by the scene before her. Rourk passed her, the blanket clenched in his arms. She watched him go before facing Jule. Jule's eyes glinted with the magic in his body, and the air around him shimmered in a different power than that of her father. Jule's felt ancient, older than the energy in the cliffs and ocean combined.

He approached her, and she took a step back. He stopped in front of her and gazed down at her with quiet intensity. He didn't touch her, but the magics sparked between them.

"What made you come?" he asked

She wiped her eyes again, overwhelmed by his presence yet comforted by the flow of energy between them. He wasn't like anyone else; she didn't have to try to feel his magic. It flowed between them: balanced, calm, powerful.

"It seemed right," she said at last. "I couldn't ... I didn't know my father did this. At least I could pay my respects."

"Sean wasn't the first."

"I know," she said with some anger. "I know what he is. I'm sorry for your loss, Jule, but my father, he's all I have. He took me in when no one else would, and he protected me."

"From Guardians, like Sean, who are sworn to protect people like you."

"Look at me, Jule." She indicated the new bruises on her face and neck. "No one could protect me against him if I betrayed him."

"I can." His words were confident and soft.

He spoke the truth, just as her father lied to her. The man before her was unwavering, and she had the impression of everything she was not and everything she needed to be whole. The ache within her deepened at the idea of trusting someone for the first time in her life, and the energy flowing between them grew more intense. Jule wouldn't hit her as her father did.

But there was another reason she dared not leave her father, one she feared voicing even to the man before her. Her father was planning something that depended on her magic. If she was the only one who could help him, she was also the only one who could stop him.

"I can't do it, Jule," she said. "What I want doesn't matter."

He broke the barrier between them and touched her face. Her breath caught, and he pulled her into his body. She braced herself for a flood of his power, but it didn't come. Instead, the sense of a shared soul and magic returned. Her tortured thoughts went to the thousands of men, killed by the only family she'd known, whose souls were trapped for eternity beneath the ground.

Suddenly, the cold roar of the wind gave way to warmth and quiet. She lifted her head from his chest, surprised to find them back in the cottage. The pot-bellied stove crackled with burning wood, and a light in the corner made the cottage feel even cozier.

Jule forced himself to put some space between them. It took more effort than he thought to break the otherworldly connection binding them. He felt cold as soon as he stepped away, and the urge to touch her again thrummed through his body.

The Magician looked around, confused, before recognition crossed her features. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her green eyes showing her torment and her magic like a halo around her. One of her eyes was black from a blow, and the sight infuriated him. They'd both changed dramatically in the two days they were apart, and he wasn't sure it was for the better. At least, he was finding it harder to resist her strange magic every time they met. She sat on the couch, and he sat opposite her in the armchair. While only three feet apart, the space felt immeasurable. Her pain was raw, yet there was mettle in her backbone if she'd gone to Sean's funeral, fully knowing her own father killed the Guardian.

"I thought we should talk," he started. "I'm beginning to understand why the ... why your father wants you. It's not gonna be a good thing, if you stay with him."

"I know this already," she replied in a tight voice. "Jule, can the souls of those long dead still be freed, even if they're trapped in the ground?"

"How many has he killed?"

"Tens of thousands." Her voice caught.

Floored, he was quiet. She looked up at last, her eyes glimmering with tears.

"He said he had to kill them or they'd kill me. I didn't know until last night," she went on.

Jule rose and paced to the window. Dread settled into his stomach. Even when he'd been in the immortal realm, no one crossed a Watcher or Other. The number of beings capable of killing one was less than five, and the last thing they needed was an Original Being showing up to complicate matters.

Xander. He couldn't shake the sense it hadn't been a dream.

"I can feel them," she said in a whisper.

Hearing the heartbreak in her voice, Jule found his resolve to keep his distance melt. He crossed to the couch and sat beside her.

"They can be freed," he assured her. "I just need to know where they are, so I can free them."

Relief crossed her features. She raised her eyes to his, her breathing uneven. He felt her turmoil through their bond and ached to ease her pain. Her green eyes pierced him to the core, and a light flush spread across her skin. He could see himself becoming addicted to the energy flowing between them. It only seemed natural for them to sit next to each other, and what would feel more natural would probably scare her off.

Her eyes went to his lips. This time, she broke the space between them. She touched his jaw with cold fingertips, and the bond between them opened. Jule took her hands in his and rested them on his thigh.

"Careful," he whispered. "Whatever is between us is only getting stronger."

"You feel it, too."

"Yes."

"I feel safe with you, Jule, and it terrifies me. I keep telling myself it can't be real," she said, her voice barely audible.

"It's very real," he said.

"My father will kill us."

He understood her fear. If he crossed an Other, he knew exactly what the risk was. The woman before him was just discovering her power and was on the leash of a creature that knew neither compassion nor mercy. Jule hesitated only a moment longer before he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

She leaned into him, yielding as the intensity of the bond between them grew hot and demanding. Whatever she'd accidentally done to him in the alley, she'd sealed them together in a way he never thought possible. Their souls already linked, all that was left was for their bodies to become one as well.

"Stay with me, and he'll never hurt you again," he whispered against her lips. "I swear it."

"You can't stop what comes, Jule. Only I can," she replied. "I can't stay more than tonight."

Her words lit his blood on fire, and he eased her back against the couch, their magics swirling around them.

* * *

Yully slept deeply until the next morning and awoke rested. The bedroom in the cottage was chilly with the door to the living room closed. The first thing she felt was the bond to Jule, who was in the next room. It was warm and sweet, like a summer rain. Their lovemaking seemed to cement what was between them. Without touching him, she still felt the ebb and flow of energy.

Her father would notice her absence.

Yully rose and dressed herself, preparing herself mentally to tell Jule she had to leave him. Her hand rested on the doorknob. Their bond felt permanent, and she had no idea what to do about it. She opened the door. He reclined on the couch, shirtless. Her eyes fell to his frame, and she took him in with hunger and appreciation. He looked up as she exited the bedroom. His gaze was calm and intense, and she flushed beneath his scrutiny.

"You're leaving," he said before she could speak.

"I'm afraid I must."

"I brought your car."

A heavy silence fell, and she met his gaze finally. She wasn't sure what she expected from him, but she was relieved to see he was neither angry nor sad. Desire rose within her, and she suppressed it with effort. Her body ached to feel whole again, as she had last night in his arms. She felt the sense of being centered for the first time in her life and knew it was because of the man before her.

"It wasn't the last time," he said with a small smile.

"Jule ..." she said with a frown.

"I told you once, sweetheart. I'll always come for you."

"Yully. My name is Yully Hughes."

"Nice to meet you finally, Yully Hughes." He rose with feline grace from the couch and approached, hand outstretched.

She took it, and he pulled her in for a hug that made her sigh.

"Run where you will, Yully. I'll find you."

"I don't know what to think about that," she admitted.

"Consider it a fact."

"And when my father finds you lurking in the bushes beneath my window?"

He released her and pulled free the necklace around his neck. Yully eased away as he placed it around her neck. She touched it, as thrilled to wear his symbol as she had been her father's. She lifted both coins and looked down.

"The stars in the center mark the generation of an immortal's bloodline. One being the first."

"You're third generation," she said.

"The oldest. The first two generations are extinct, from a time before time. Admittedly, I'm the youngest of the oldest immortals and the only immortal on Earth of my generation."

"My father is fifth generation," she mused.

"Another ancient bloodline. There are few of us. Anyway, this is to remind you there's always a safe place for you, whenever you're ready."

"Thank you." She squeezed the coins in her hand. "I have to go."

He kissed her forehead and stepped away.

Yully left him in the cottage, tugging the door closed behind her. She turned and gasped, staring at the large man before her. He was dressed in black, and his chiseled features and striking blue eyes were perfect enough to have been sculptured. For a long moment, she thought he was there to kill her, with his severe look and the ready stance.

His gaze dropped to the necklaces at her neck before he stepped aside. She fled around him and into the car, locking the doors and speeding away from the cottage.

* * *

"Really, Jule?"

Jule chuckled. He'd sensed the arrival of his brother just before Yully left the cottage. Dusty slammed the door behind him and entered the living room, his sharp gaze taking in every dark corner before he sat. The man looked like an ancient Greek prince with blond hair and chiseled features.

"I figured you'd never settle for a woman," Dusty said. "Especially that one."

"I don't think we control it," Jule replied, looking him over. "You're pretty well armed for a social visit."

"You just put me in an awkward position."

Jule studied him. "You came to kill her."

"The Watchers paid a visit to Damian. Little bastards said she had to die. They wanted your head, too, but Damian set 'em straight," Dusty replied. "But yes, I came to kill her, until I saw the medallion."

"This is going to give Damian some heartache with the Watchers."

"Not at all. Damian will tell them to go to hell. He wouldn't order your mate killed any more than he would his."

"The thing is, I'm not sure she'll make it out of this alive anyway," Jule said and rubbed the back of his neck. "Damian and I spent months in Europe trying to figure out why our Guardians were disappearing here. The Others weren't just helping Czerno, they were killing them off, too. My ... mate's house is sitting on the bodies of tens of thousands of Guardians."

"Tell me she didn't know," Dusty said and sat forward. "If you want her gone ..."

"No, Dusty," Jule said. "She didn't know. She's in a rough spot."

"We've figured out the Others are creating some sort of weapon."

"Old news, Dust-man. She is the weapon."

Dusty was quiet, and Jule searched the floor for his shirt and jacket. He had an Other to stalk.

"That doesn't bode well for either of you," Dusty said at last.

"Tell D if anyone kills her, it'll be me," Jule replied.

"It won't come to that."

"I hope not. I need some of your toys, Dusty."

The assassin obliged without question, stripping off weapons and handing them to Jule. Jule positioned them around his body.

"D's coming soon, Jule," Dusty said quietly. "He's getting ready to make a stand against the Other. Whatever you need to do, do it fast. The minute he sets foot in Ireland, there will be no way to keep things quiet."

"Got it," Jule said.

"I'll let D know what's going on. Take my phone. I'll get another."

"Dusty." Jule looked up from strapping a knife to his calf and accepted the phone. "Thanks."

The assassin gave a trace of a smile, closed his eyes, and disappeared.

Armed and ready, Jule Transported himself to the Guardians' local station, where he startled Rourk.

"Contact my second-in-command, Sasha, and tell him to discreetly send me a couple dozen Guardians," Jule ordered. "And, all the Naturals who can Transport."

"Will do. Thought you might be interested in something I found in Sean's notebook," Rourk said and rose, handing it to him. "He'd long thought the girl and her father were unusual. He kept notes on when they visited town and where they went."

Jule took it. Rourk had highlighted several portions of Sean's tiny, neat writing.

"The girl visited the town nearly every weekend, and her father accompanied her once every few weeks. It's all pretty boring stuff: shit they ate and drank, the license plates on their vehicles, typical surveillance stuff," Rourk said. He leaned forward to flip a couple of pages. "Until you get to here. This was only a few days ago, when we all lost our magic."

Jule read through the portion dated four days ago, when the Black God's mantle had changed hands.

They stayed till closing, and I followed him out. He was driving ... Jule skipped through the details of Yully's car.... Another figure followed them. The unidentified male was seven feet tall, dark hair, with eyes that glowed like a vamp's. I couldn't read him; my powers were gone as of that morning. I obeyed the emergency protocol issued earlier in the day and didn't approach the vamp. He followed the Other and the girl. The Other didn't notice him, perhaps because of the strange issues affecting magic. The entry went on with no more mention of the mysterious vamp.

"I thought it was weird, because we haven't seen a vamp in over a year anywhere in Ireland. I'd have noticed a seven-foot-tall vamp, and even if we didn't, the Other would've," Rourk said. "It might mean nothing, but I wanted to tell you."

Xander. Jule recognized the description of the Original Vamp.

Another memory emerged, one that reminded him that long ago, he'd been assigned to ease Damian's transition to the White God, which was how he met Cassandra, a human, in the mortal realm. An Original was released at the transition of a Black or White God in the mortal world to ensure the immortals didn't try to take over during the vulnerable period when a new God learned his powers. Jule had chosen to stay with Cassandra instead of returning to the immortal realm when the Schism occurred.

Find me when you're ready. The Oracle will know where I am, Xander had said.

"Jule?" Rourk asked at his silence.

"It means nothing." Pulling himself from his spotty memories, Jule looked up at an expectant Rourk. He wasn't sure what was going on, and he wasn't about to worry Rourk more by admitting there was a seven-foot vamp with unlimited power loose somewhere. "I think Sean made a mistake."

"I suspected as much," Rourk said. "I think we'd know if there was one in town."

Jule offered a smile and handed the journal back to the Guardian. "I'll be back later. Watch your back until I have someone else assigned to station."

"No worries," Rourk said.

"I'll bring in someone quick," Jule said.

"I took Sean's job at the pub. Figured it'd keep my mind off things," Rourk replied. "Sean was like a brother to me."

Jule heard the quiet note of sorrow in the Guardian's voice. He and Sean had been assigned together at the station for over a decade. He patted Rourk on the shoulder.

"Do what you need to, Rourk. If you need a vacation or anything, take it."

"Thanks, Jule."

Spirits dampened, Jule watched Rourk leave for the pub before Transporting himself to the forest side of the Other's property. He opened his senses. Yully wouldn't be home yet, and there was no tingling of power that would indicate the Other was present. He Transported himself into Yully's room and looked around briefly before stepping into the quiet hallway.

An hour later, he returned to Yully's room empty-handed. He stood there, frustrated, as another thought hit him. He wasn't sure what he sought, but he'd hoped to find some trace either of the Guardians the Other killed or the Other itself. The Other's bedchamber had been empty, as if the otherworldly creature was permanently gone. Jule crossed to Yully's wardrobe on a hunch and opened it. It, too, was empty, as if the Other had fled and was taking Yully with him.

The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he tensed, waiting for the creature to materialize.

"Are you done playing these games?" the Watcher asked.

"What games, Watcher? You have all the keys to this puzzle," Jule replied. He faced the small man with glowing green eyes.

"You have them, too. You're refusing to see that."

"If I had the keys, I'd use them!"

"Xander visited you, didn't he?"

"Nothing but a fever dream," Jule said.

"You know that's not true."

"You want me to believe I'm an Original Being?" Jule asked, amused. "I have Guardian powers and nothing else."

"If you returned to the immortal realm with me, I-- "

"No."

"So you'd rather stay here and watch the world fall apart," the Watcher said. "You've always been a selfish creature, Jule. You chose a human and serving the White God over the immortal realm at the Schism, despite the need for your power by your fellow immortals."

Jule was quiet, trying hard to remember something from before the Schism besides brief glimpses of Darian and Damian.

"If what you say is true, and I am an Original Being, I would've been released to ensure Damian's transition to the White God went over smoothly. But it didn't, did it," he said slowly, thinking hard. "It couldn't, not with you and the Others at war with each other. You tried to bring that war here."

"Common knowledge the war spilled over," the Watcher snapped.

"The only thing that prevented you from succeeding was ..." Jule said. Tension hung in the air between them. "It was me, wasn't it?"

The Watcher said nothing.

"And now, you want me and Damian to run the Others off," Jule finished. "You're using us."

"I'm protecting you."

Jule laughed. "Gods, I never thought I'd hear the truth from a vamp first!"

"If you find Xander, you must tell me where he is." The Watcher stepped forward. "He hides from us too well."

"Lucky bastard."

The Watcher's face reddened. "Jule, you don't understand what-- "

"I'm starting to understand," Jule said, temper at its limit. "You exiled me for trying to protect the mortal realm. Did you see what I did as a betrayal, because I chose my role as a Guardian over helping you wipe out the Others and anyone else in the way?"

"I've tried to help you, Jule. Good luck finding her without me." The Watcher disappeared in a flicker of light.

Jule felt the sudden loss of the connection between Yully and him like the heat going out on a cold winter night. Furious, he paced. Pissing off the Watchers was never a good thing. Despite their ambivalent position on humanity, they'd been somewhat helpful thus far. Yet no part of him regretted the idea of chopping them out of the picture completely. If he was what everyone seemed to think he was, he didn't need them. He needed his power.

Find me when you're ready. The Oracle will know where I am.

He needed to find a vamp named Xander.

## Chapter Seven

"Hey," Yully said, seating herself at the bar. The burly blond behind the counter looked up at her voice and smiled. "You took over for Sean?"

"Figured it'd keep me busy 'til Jule brings in someone else. I'm not much for being home alone," Rourk replied. "It was good of you to come yesterday."

"Thanks. I'm so sorry this happened."

"Death is a part of the risk we take. Sean died well, doing his duty. Because of him, more humans are alive than would've been if he wasn't a Guardian."

"Are all Guardians like you and Jule?" she asked.

"As far as I know," Rourk replied. "We all serve the same cause of protecting those weaker than us from evil."

"That's very noble of you."

"It's just what we do." He set a glass of Coke on the counter before her. "You hungry? I hear they make a mean stew."

"Thank you," she said with a faint smile. He left to the kitchen, and her smile faded. She couldn't help thinking about all the Guardians buried around her home and if they'd been as dedicated and noble as those she'd met. She sighed, aware she'd never know the answer to that question. What she knew was that her father and his lies had skewed her outlook on her world for ten years. Her father was dangerous, even if she didn't yet know what he was trying to do.

"What luck." His voice startled her. "Here for the stew or something else, my dear?"

Yully's breath caught, and her thoughts went to the Guardian in the kitchen. She twisted to face her father.

"The stew, Father," she replied. "But, I'm done."

"Shall we?" He held out his arm.

She took it, his power moving through her and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She didn't relax until they emerged onto the street, away from the Guardian. Her father's car and chauffeur were waiting. Yully climbed into the car. Neither spoke, and the chauffeur took them north, instead of south towards home.

"Where are we going, Papa?" she asked.

"Downpatrick, on the east coast. The autumn equinox is almost upon us. I want us to have a day to get settled before we perform the rite."

"What rite is this? I know, I know, I'll turn into a princess. But what exactly are we going to do?"

"Long ago, the heavens and the earth split from one another. It was a time of great tumult, and the gateway between the two realms was sealed away for eternity," he explained. "Or so we thought. My kind always thought there was a way to reopen that gateway, and a few days ago, the gateway ruptured. At the autumn equinox, the gate is weakest. You're going to open the gateway."

"What will happen then?"

"You'll turn into a princess," he said with a cold smile.

"I don't understand what that means, Father."

"It means when the immortals reclaim the earth, you'll be among the ruling party."

"What'll happen to everyone?" She braced herself for the answer.

"It depends. Those humans who are willing to serve the immortals will be spared, and those who aren't, won't."

"I see." Her pulse was flying, and her body cold. She wasn't going to save humanity. She was going to help him enslave humanity.

"It will be a new start for us."

"What happens to the Guardians?"

"After you drain their power, they'll be given the same choice as the humans: serve or die." He leaned forward, his eyes glowing. "I'll forgive your indiscretion with the Guardian, my dear. Do as I say, and he'll be your reward, an eternity with him. Disobey me, and I'll kill him."

She looked down, both thrilled by the idea of an eternity with the man who made her feel whole and horrified at what her father told her. A plan formed in her mind, and she cleared her throat.

"As you wish, Father," she whispered. "I think I need more practice with my gift. I can't control it yet."

"We have a long drive. You can practice on me all you want." He offered his hand. She took it and closed her eyes, determined to find a way to use her gift to counter her father's magic.

* * *

Jule looked around Yully's room, trying to digest everything he was learning about himself. He still couldn't remember much more than what the Watcher and Original Vamp had told him. That he was an Original Being who had chosen to stay with Damian and a woman long since dead. He doubted the decision was made on emotion only; he'd never leave Damian to battle creatures like the Watchers and Others on his own. Without even fully knowing why, Jule despised the two factions too much to abandon Damian-- and through Damian, humanity-- to them.

Whatever had happened in the immortal realm to make him hate the little bastards, he was glad the sense of distrust wasn't wiped out with his memories. Jule Transported himself from the Other's Irish manor to the study of the White God's temporary headquarters in Texas. Damian appeared to be waiting for him, perched on the corner of a mahogany desk with his arms crossed.

"'Bout time," Damian said before Jule's eyes opened. "Something you wanna tell me?"

"You know me too well," Jule said with a smile. "We need to talk, D."

"I'd say so. I'll send Dusty out to keep an eye on Ireland." The White God bristled with power, but his smile was quick. The friendship between them stretched thousands of years, to just before the Schism. Gazing at his adopted brother and recalling everything they'd done to protect humans, Jule had no doubt giving up his life in the immortal world was worth it, despite Xander's uncertainty.

"Thanks, D," Jule said quietly.

"I called off the hit on your woman," Damian said. His golden eyes were calm, and he was dressed as if he'd just finished sparring.

"Thanks, D," Jule said again. "I never told you why I was exiled from the immortal world, mainly because I didn't fully know why myself."

"I take it now's the time," Damian said with a snort. "Start talking."

"I don't remember much of anything, D, but from what I've gathered, I was an Original Being tasked to help you navigate the transition to Godhood. I just refused to return. I'm remembering some things. Every time there's a new era-- where either a Black or White God transitions-- an Original Being is released from whatever exile the immortals inflicted upon him. The hope is that the Original Being will oversee the transition and make sure none of the immortal entities interfere."

"They're doing a shitty job," Damian said. "The Watchers and Others will wipe out everyone."

"It's worse than that. I ran into the Original Vamp already and am under the impression all the Original Beings are free. The Watchers must've done a number on me before I left. I can't remember the time before the Schism, except for you and Darian, and my magic is but a fraction of what it once was."

Damian was quiet for a moment. "Sofi said the Originals aren't what we've been led to believe them to be. I trust her, and I think you're the proof."

"I wish I could remember something of that time."

"The funny thing is, the Watcher told me that any Original Being that was set free would destroy the world. You're here. The Vamp is here, and yet the only tear between realms was caused by Darian and is being pursued by the Watchers and Others," Damian said. "Do you remember much of the Originals?"

"Not at all. Most of what I know comes from what I've relearned after the Schism," Jule answered.

"So you know what I know of them, which is what the Watchers and Others have propagated."

"Yes," Jule answered, pensive. "You don't think they're the enemies."

"I don't understand their motivations any more than I do those of the damned Watchers, but I feel safe saying that the Originals are not our current problem," Damian said.

"The Watchers are using us. They want me back in the immortal realm to help them battle the Others."

"Makes sense," Damian said thoughtfully. "Darian said a Watcher ordered you to kill your mate?"

"Yeah."

"I bet the Watchers were counting on manipulating the only creature in the mortal realm that can battle an Other on earth. What would make an immortal who chose humanity once return to who he was in order to save the humans again?"

"A damn woman." Jule rose and paced, anger rippling through him. "So they force me to seek out my mate by claiming she had to die, fully knowing I couldn't kill her and we'd be bound at first touch. I hate those little trolls."

"I can't tell if they have faith we'll figure this out, or if they're secretly hoping we don't," Damian admitted. "In either case, I'm planning on expelling them and the Others both from the mortal realm. Sick of their interference."

"You'll need the help of an Original Being or two for that," Jule said. His thoughts went to Yully. Caught in the middle of the battle between Others and Watchers, her danger was increasing, and he was stuck in a riddle he couldn't quite solve. "D, I need my Original powers back, but I'm not going back to the immortal realm."

"You said the Original Vamp is here," Damian asked. "Have you considered asking him?"

"I guess I could." Jule chuckled. "He didn't tear my head off when he sought me out the first time. I'll need Sofi's help, though."

"Just promise me you will call me if the Vamp decides to turn you into dinner," the White God said.

"The White God must exist for the sake of humanity, but an exiled immortal is no loss if he dies."

"It's not a request, Jule."

"Yes, ikir," Jule replied with a smile, amused. "Is Sofi free?"

"She's already waiting for you."

* * *

Jenn heard Jonny's door close, and the sound woke her from her light sleep. He'd assigned her the room beside his. She rose, having slept fully clothed out of fear Xander would attack her in her sleep. Jonny's form disappeared around a corner as she emerged, and she trotted after him. He was dressed for the cold, snowy night. Jenn wore nothing more than a vest to keep her core warm, preferring for her arms to be unencumbered.

The hallways were quiet and vacant, and she followed Jonny into the dark night. The windows of the compound at the peak of the mountain were protected by film to keep light from leaking out. Only the reflection of the white snow and grey sky provided light once she stepped outside. Jonny's feet crunched in the snow until he reached the rocky area on the west side of the mountain. Jenn waited until he was far enough ahead that he wouldn't hear her before she trailed.

The Black God picked his way through the rocks and crags before disappearing into the forest. Cold wind whipped snow against her face. She lost sight of him and hurried her step. For half an hour, Jenn tried to find his trail. She paused to listen, looked at the ground, and changed directions three times before she heard the sound of water flowing. Instincts took her in the direction of the stream, and she reached the top of a shallow ravine in whose valley the stream flowed. Most of it had frozen in the coldness that made Jenn's breaths hang in the air.

Jonny was on a low, flat rock, making love to a woman writhing in pleasure beneath him. Jenn watched, confused, until he lowered his head to her neck. The woman jerked beneath him and clawed at the Black God draining her blood. Her body went still, and Jonny threw his head back, pure pleasure on his face and blood dripping down his chin.

"He made his choice." Xander's voice was quiet. His warm body materialized beside her.

Jenn couldn't speak. She knew what vamps were and what they did; it was why she hated them. She'd hoped ... she'd wanted Jonny to be different. Jonny was only accepting the path he'd already chosen, but it was a difficult pill for her to swallow.

"Did you make him do this, or was it really his choice?" she asked at last.

"It is as it should be." Xander's eyes glinted as he gazed down at Jonny. "Your pity is a weakness."

"I mourn the loss of what made him human," she returned. "I know you can't understand that."

"He was never human to begin with." His gaze shifted to her.

"You don't have to be a human to have a human trait," she said and looked up at him.

"Interesting. Human or vamp, he had a choice. All of them do."

"So do I. I choose to kill those that hurt others. Creatures like you, whose hearts I would cut out with my nails if I had nothing else."

"I look forward to it." The slow smile, the one that made her shiver, spread across his face.

"Anytime, shithead," she said. "You got twenty-five days left."

"You'll start to feel your world shrinking soon, Guardian. I disabled your beacon and removed your weapons from your room. I'll be watching the wolves circle you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Xander."

"I'd be disappointed if you were." He turned and walked away.

Jenn watched him go. The creature walking away from her wanted something, and she couldn't figure out what. He could have her killed or sent her away at his wish, but he didn't. Her eyes returned to Jonny, who was lapping up what was left of the dead woman's blood.

Hardening, Jenn turned away and retreated through the forest and rocks to the compound. As she hopped the short distance from rocks to the ground leading up to the compound, she caught the silhouettes of two men against the cloudy sky. One was plainly Xander by his size, and the profile of the second was familiar to her. He glowed with a different sort of power. For a moment, she wondered if Darian had followed her here, too, like he did everywhere else.

She crept near enough to make out the second man's features and was surprised to see the White God's commander of the Eastern Hemisphere, Jule. Half a head shorter than Xander, Jule was speaking quietly to the vamp, whose arms were crossed and head tilted in consideration.

"Jenn?"

She turned at Jonny's voice. The Black God absorbed the darkness around him, glowing eerily. He smelled of fresh blood.

"Hi, Jonny," she said softly. "Trouble sleeping?"

"A little. You?"

"Yes. I thought a walk would help," she lied. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel ... good. Real good. Alive. Must be the winter air."

"Yeah, Jonny. I noticed it, too." Her eyes went to the rocks. The two silhouettes were gone. "It's a bit chilly for me. Do you need anything?"

"No, no, I won't keep you," he said quickly. "I think I'll stay out for a little while."

"Stay safe," she said and returned to the compound. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away from the Black God, aware he'd crossed a point of no return. Jenn returned to her room and flipped on the lights. It looked untouched, but a quick search revealed the only weapons remaining were those she'd taken when she left her room, and the beacon was gone.

I'll be watching the wolves circle you.

She went to lock her door, only to find the lock had been removed. Xander was playing games with her, like the bored predator he was. She'd just have to play smarter.

* * *

Jule Transported himself to the Black God's compound, vaguely aware of Xander's presence. The Original Being was impossible to track with his senses and seemed to fade in and out of existence. Sensing him, the large vamp stopped walking to the fortress built into the mountain and faced him. The cold night didn't affect Jule this time; he used his magic to keep himself warm.

"Ready?" Xander asked.

"Ready enough," Jule replied.

The vamp strode towards the fortress and cut through a trail to the rocky area to the west. Jule trailed, forcing himself to ignore the tingle of vamps that made him itch to reach for his weapons. Xander faced him and crossed his arms, waiting.

"I don't remember much of anything," Jule started. "But I know I hate the Watchers about now."

"They betrayed you."

"They seem to think I betrayed them."

"You made a choice to fulfill your role then refused to be confined again," the vamp said. "I tried to defy them once. I didn't know the key was getting here first."

"I guess I figured it out, though I don't know that I'd say I won that round. I have no powers. How is it you haven't ripped my head off?" Jule asked warily. The massive vamp hadn't attacked or turned his back at the first sight of him, a sign Jule took as positive. He didn't remember Xander, but Xander remembered him. Jule saw it in his face. Xander had seemed curious, the opposite of what Jule expected from the father to the creatures Jule regularly killed. For once, he wished he remembered his time before the Schism.

"You really don't remember. The Originals have a truce that's older than all of us combined. We don't turn on one another."

"Like the balance between White and Black Gods?"

"Stronger. If any of us turns on the other, we all cease to exist. Powerful motivation," Xander said, amused. "Doesn't mean we can't mess with whoever else we want."

"If you're free, why are you here?" Jule asked.

"I do whatever I please," came the guarded answer.

"Very well. Do you know how I can regain my Original power?"

There was a pause, then Xander purred, "You know I do nothing for free."

"No one does," Jule replied. "I'm not asking for a free pass."

"Sounds like a favor to me."

"You're here for a reason. Tomorrow, this world will be destroyed if one-- or both-- of us don't step up. This seems motivation enough," Jule said.

Xander considered him and then stepped away, thoughtful. Jule couldn't shake his amazement that there was a vamp capable of thinking. He sensed a great deal in what Xander wasn't saying about his purpose in the mortal realm.

"I want two things. I see the girl and the Other in your thoughts. I want the Other," the vamp said at last.

"As long as you kill him."

"Definitely. I have a debt to settle with all of them," Xander said.

"You won't see me arguing," Jule replied. "What's the second?"

"I want to see the Oracle."

"Why?" Jule asked. Sofi wasn't surprised to learn he was an Original Being and had known where to find this creature. He suspected she was expecting Xander to want to see her, too.

"I need an answer to a question."

"There's something she knows that an Original Being doesn't?"

"I'm not a Watcher. I see only what is in my narrow lane."

"I can't agree to that without the White God's permission," Jule said.

"My terms are far kinder for you than I'd give anyone else. Just because we can't fight each other doesn't mean I must help you."

"Something tells me it's in your best interest to help me regain my power," Jule noted.

Xander chuckled. "Yes, Guardian, it is. Summon your White God. I will see the Oracle."

Jule frowned. Certain creatures with unlimited power and motivations thousands of years in the making weren't what Damian really needed right now. He almost refused before he realized he had no choice, if he wanted to help Yully survive and Damian defeat the Other. Jule Transported himself back to Damian's headquarters. The Oracle seemed to be waiting for him. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he hesitated.

"I'm not taking you there, kiri."

"Bring him here," Sofi said promptly. "Jule, he has to be there. You won't save her without him, and you're running out of time."

"You don't pull any punches, Sofi," he growled. "Where's Damian?"

"Charles found the Other. Damian went to scout things out."

"Who's Charles?"

"He's a Hunter vamp we borrowed from Jonny," she explained. Jule's brow furrowed, and Sofi smiled. "I'll explain later. Xander's waiting."

"Is Darian here? I'm not bringing an Original Vamp here without some sort of backup."

"I'm here, Jule," Bianca said from behind him.

"Great, so I can piss off both my brothers."

"I just meant I can fix anyone who decides to brawl," Bianca retorted.

"Darian's here," Sofi replied with a laugh. "I'll go get him."

"At least then we'll stand half a chance if the vamp goes ape-shit crazy."

"We'll be fine, Jule," she assured him. "Just don't tell Damian or Dusty."

Jule ground his teeth. Silently cursing Oracles, he Transported back to the mountainside. The vamp hadn't moved, as if he and Sofi already knew Jule would facilitate.

"Y'all are cutting me no slack today," he said.

"Wise Oracle," Xander said with a cold smile. "Take me to her."

Jule raised his hand, and the Original Vamp rested his on top. They Transported to the study where Sofi, Bianca, and the Grey God awaited. Xander's attention was caught first by Darian.

"Gatekeeper," the vamp said. "You're negligent in your duties."

"As soon as I figure out what they are, I'll take care of that," Darian shot back. The vamp frowned.

"You will when you're ready, Darian," Sofi said.

"Gatekeeper, Oracle, Healer, Original Immortal," Xander said, taking in everyone one-by-one. "You have a message for me, Oracle, and an answer I seek."

Jule shifted forward as the vamp held out his hand, palm up, in the traditional greeting to an Oracle. Sofi stepped to him, unafraid, while Darian edged closer. She placed her hand on the vamp's, and her eyes began to whirl hypnotically.

The Original Vamp closed his eyes. Their exchange was silent. Sofi dropped her hand, and the vamp remained still, as if letting her magic settle.

"You are certain?" he said at last.

"It's not the only answer, but it's the most likely," Sofi replied.

"Very well. A pleasure, Oracle," Xander said and opened his eyes. "Immortal, take me back."

Jule obliged quickly, unwilling to keep the vamp close to his brothers' mates longer than necessary. They Transported to the mountainside again, and the cold wind swept past him. Jule released the vamp, who turned to him.

"I know one way to return your power to you." As he spoke, his fangs lengthened. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

Realization of exactly what he'd asked for made Jule breathe out hard. His thoughts went to Yully, and he stepped forward without hesitation.

"Absolutely," Jule replied. "Bite me."

"As you wish."

## Chapter Eight

Yully spent the drive north learning how to manipulate her father's magics with his patient tips as guidance. She purposely kept her thoughts of what was to come-- and her fear for Jule-- at the back of her mind, instead filling it with her willingness to learn her trade.

Only when they reached the small bed and breakfast that was their destination did she cease practicing her magic. She was drained but more confident in her ability to use it. Yully stepped from the warm car into the cold night and followed her father into the inn.

"Change into something warm, my dear. We're going to the site tonight."

"Father, I'm tired."

"Do as you're told." The edge in his voice made her hasten her step, and she followed the chauffeur carrying her trunk into a small room.

She took a moment to adapt to the new glimmers of energy in the room before changing into warmer clothes and her heavy coat. She armed herself, not willing to be caught off guard, then joined her father in the tiny foyer. He led her into the cold night and back to the car.

They didn't drive long, and the car pulled off to the side of the road. Yully looked around curiously, not recognizing the sloping hill before them. The scent of the ocean was on the air, and the area in front of them was guarded by tourist police while tourists camped out in small tents up and down the road.

"Take my hand," her father instructed. "We'll become invisible to them." At his words, a rush of cold magic filled her.

Doubtful, she winced as they approached tourists and police alike, waiting for someone to stop them, and fearful of what her father would do if someone did. They moved through the people with ease and walked up the low hill. When she reached the crest, she recognized the sight before her.

Ballynoe. The ancient megalith pulsed with power older than that of her father's. Mesmerized, she missed her step, and her father continued without her to the center of the landmark. It was like watching a spark grow into a flame. He glowed white-purple, and the hill beneath her trembled.

The power beckoned to her, and she obeyed. Her first step into the structure filled her with its power. Yully struggled to control it and then surrendered. She closed her eyes to the gentle flow and strange sensations: Jule's warmth, her father's hot-cold rain, the ancient power of the ruins.

"It's welcoming you." Her father's voice warbled as if through water. "Tomorrow, on the equinox, it'll be so powerful, it will sing to you."

"It's singing now, Father," she replied. The sensations were similar to her bond with Jule: sweet and warm. She ached for him, and the magic thrummed around her, echoing her loneliness. Laughter rose within her, and the magic laughed with her. It flipped her hair and swirled around her. For the first time in her life, she felt her magic was a gift and not a curse.

"Tomorrow, we'll come here just before sunset. The magic is at its strongest between dusk and midnight. Come, daughter."

Yully opened her eyes, suddenly aware she was floating two feet of the ground. She panicked, and the magic released her.

"I've been waiting for generations for you," her father said, his eyes glowing. "I groomed hundreds of others like you, and only you can do this."

Yully didn't ask about her predecessors. She suspected they were buried with the Guardians. As she stepped away from the magic of the Henge, sorrow for those women who came before her pulled her from the powerful high. Her eyes went from the ancient site glowing in the moonlight to her father's form as he walked up the hill.

A new emotion was forming in her breast: hatred. She hadn't expected it to form so fast or so strong. She stepped away from the monument amplifying her magic and followed her father. The intensity of her emotion faded as she crested the hill, but it didn't completely disappear.

She'd born untold ridicule from everyone she'd ever met and believed her father to be the only one who understood and protected her. The past few days had turned her beliefs on end. With the rise of her anger came another emotion: gratitude for finding Jule, the one man who had accepted her.

Yully touched Jule's medallion at her neck. She'd make him proud and protect him and the rest of the Guardians from her father, even if destroying her father took her own life. The Guardians deserved this after losing so many of them.

Resolved, she trailed her father down the hill, through the people who couldn't see them, and to the awaiting car. She couldn't help thinking her life had been wasted and hoped she still had a chance to make it up to the one person who mattered.

Neither spoke on their return trip to the bed and breakfast, and she went straight to her room. Yully slept fitfully and awoke before dawn, unable to rest with her troubled thoughts. She rose and stretched then left the small house on a hill for a quick walk. The day dawned cloudy and cold with a light rain that chilled her after ten minutes. She continued to walk, needing to feel the cold to remind her she was still alive. She returned and searched for her father.

The house was completely empty. Confused, she paused at the back door and felt the telltale energy patterns of the newly dead. There were twenty of them, far more than the small house could hold. Something had happened last night while she slept. Yully backed away from the door. She steadied her breathing, swearing to herself that these would be the last to die at her father's hands.

Jule's magic was stronger this day. It kept her centered and prevented her from running for the hills tearing her hair out. Instead, she prepared for the day as if it were her last. She checked her weapons with scrutiny that would've made her father proud and dressed in dark clothing loose enough for her to fight.

Her father returned around noon, his agitation apparent the moment he stepped in the door. Yully looked up from her seat on the couch as he entered. He'd left the front door open, and she saw the car was running, waiting.

"We're going now," he said, emerging from his room with a coat.

"Yes, Father." She rose and trailed him from the house to the car, unable to guess what could agitate him if killing people didn't.

They drove in silence north again, towards the ancient site. Yully grew more anxious the nearer they got; her father was right about the magic feeling stronger. The air hummed the closer they got. The chauffeur drove them straight to the hill. Her father flung open the door and strode up the incline.

Yully followed more slowly, enjoying the feeling of the power moving through her. She looked around, curious as to why such a popular site was so quiet. Just as fast, she looked away.

Her father hadn't taken the time to bury these people. They looked as if they'd been torn apart by some monster she couldn't imagine.

"Come, Yully!"

Yully steadied her breathing and obeyed, taking comfort in the power of the site. She tested it as she walked to see how much effort it would take to control. The energies flowing around her responded eagerly, and she molded and released them.

She reached the top of the hill and gasped. Her father dragged half a body from the center of the site to the edge. She recognized the blond Guardian, and her chest tightened.

"Come, daughter," her father ordered.

Yully walked to the center of the monument. The power pushed her off balance, and she caught herself before it sent her sprawling into the blood pooled around her.

"Father, why did you do this?" she asked, unable to keep her silence any longer. "Rourk did nothing wrong."

"No? Following us here, reporting our movements to other Guardians?" her father snapped, approaching her. "I spent the night defending you against them. You think I want all this death?"

"I think you don't care."

He slapped her. "Keep quiet, and do as you're told. You cannot begin to imagine how long I've waited for this night and what I've done to make sure it happens as it must. No one will stand in my way, including you, my daughter." He continued past her, up the hill once more.

Yully touched her burning cheek. The site's power comforted her, and she kissed Jule's medallion. Her father returned with a bag slung over his shoulder. She dreaded discovering what it was until he ripped it open to display woodchips.

"Help me spread this around," he directed. "We need each element present."

She obeyed. He brought three more bags while she spread the woodchips around the monument. She was soon soaked by a light drizzle and stretched to keep her stiffening muscles warm. After the bags, he brought torches covered in plastic bags and placed them by each column of the monument.

She finished spreading her woodchips and watched him, taking refuge against the drizzle in the protection of one column. It hummed with energy that spread through her, warming her. Her father moved to the center of the monument and looked around.

"What next, Father?" she ventured.

"We wait."

"For what?"

"For the Gods and Guardians to come."

"We can't perform the rite without them?" she asked.

"You'll need their power to puncture the gateway," he said. "As strong as I am, mine won't be enough. Jule will come for you and bring the most powerful of the immortals confined to earth."

"You promised not to kill him if I cooperated, Father."

"We'll see just how strong your bond to him is. The only way for them to stop this is to kill you. Do you think he'll do it, daughter?"

"No, Father," she whispered.

"Then you've played your part well, daughter. You made the one who can stop you fall in love with you instead," her father said.

"You knew we belonged together," she said in a hushed tone.

"Of course."

"You were setting me up."

"My dear, what I do, I do for us and our future. I saved your life. I thought you'd be happy I spared him instead of burying him with the others." He suddenly cocked his head to the side. "Wait here."

Yully's eyes went to Rourk's body. She moved to the center of the monument and opened herself to the magics. She sensed her father and the Guardians he went to meet on the other side of the hill. There weren't many of them, but they were powerful. One source of energy was darker than a stormy sky while another was as bright as the sun. Puzzled, she concentrated on two more sources of magic. She thought one might be Jule, but the energies faded in and out too quickly to tell.

The sky began to dim, and she played with the magic, adrenaline speeding the power's flow through her. It acclimated to her and accepted her until it obeyed her thoughts before she thought them.

Her father was right. She would need much more power to counter his, and the Guardians could provide it. She wondered again what he was that he was so strong.

Identifying his magic, she avoided it and began to draw from the others. Something blocked the storm and sun sources she'd felt, but the others flowed to her freely. Yully let the power fill her and mix with the other energies, staving off panic that there was much more than she could ever control.

"Daughter." Her father's voice broke her concentration.

Yully opened her eyes and released the magic she'd pulled in. She was floating again, and she dropped to her feet. Dusk had fallen while she tested the magic and her ability to control it. The torches around the circle were lit. She faced her father, not expecting to see the small crowd of people on the other side of the monument. She recognized Damian, Darian, Jonny, the woman who accompanied Jonny, and several others. Her father stood near her in the center.

"Alive or dead, their energy will feed you, daughter," her father said. He gathered his power, and an orb of light formed in his hands.

"No, Father. Let me face them," she said.

"If you think to betray me, daughter, Jule dies," he warned for her ears only.

"Their energies are stronger when they're alive. You said we needed everything we could get," she replied. "Please, Papa. You've prepared me for this day."

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, and then he held out his hand.

"Start with mine. Funnel it upward. Do it, now."

She took his hand and absorbed what she could of his power. It mingled with the magic of the monument, and she threw it upward, towards the sky. Light rippled through the clouds.

"Again."

She obeyed, this time keeping some back.

"Now, take theirs and do the same."

The men had crept closer. Her father fell back, and she took a deep breath before approaching the men. She felt Jule's presence without seeing him.

"I'll go," Darian said, stepping in front of her. He drew a knife and lowered his stance.

Yully pulled what she could of his energy into her body. As if feeling what she did, Darian lunged at her. The magic took hold of her, and she danced away from his strikes as if they were in slow motion. His knife blade grazed her once and turned into a feather that he flung away. He snatched her throat, and she closed her eyes, pulling his magic into her and using it to fling him away.

Her father laughed coldly. The magic made her head spin, but she focused on the two most powerful sources: Damian and Jonny. A large form stepped in front of them suddenly, blocking her. She stared at the towering man with red eyes, not sensing him at all.

Worse, she was losing her grip on the magic within her. It shouldn't have been flooding her like it was, as if someone there was feeding her while Darian seemed to be sucking it out of her, despite her attempt to restrain it.

"I'm not done yet," Darian said and rose from the ground. "You got a piece of me, but that's it."

He pulsed as strongly as the two blocked men with the power he'd absorbed. Yully faced him, unable to pull his power without touching him or reverse the drain he had on her.

"Again," she said. She stretched her senses and pulled everything to her. The ground around the monument was rich with the long dead whose souls were trapped.

Amplified by magic, Yully's fighting skill was inhuman. Jule watched the beautiful woman knock Darian to the ground for a second time. Her hair glowed as if it were on fire, and she floated, her slender form clad in simple leggings and a tunic. Her movements were faster than any Guardian's. She fought with tenacity born of desperation. His newfound power had broken whatever barrier the Watcher put between them. Their bond was stronger than ever, and Jule's body bristled with magic that felt both foreign and familiar, like a memory long ago forgotten.

Xander stood before the Black and White Gods, the only thing keeping Yully from stealing their magic. The Other on the other side of the monument watched with a cold smile, his gaze traveling upwards.

Jule looked up. Yully sent lightning into the sky every time she touched Darian and yet was brimming with more magic than he thought possible for her to contain. Her gaze went from Darian to her father, and Jule saw the flash of anger that crossed her face.

Darian got up again, distracting her. Jule looked at the clouds, able to feel the gateway cracking with his newfound powers. Darian's own power seemed to grow every time she knocked him down, and Jule looked at the Grey God curiously.

"Jule," Damian called. "Fix this, or I will."

Jule stepped forward and motioned for Xander to follow.

"Darian, move!" he shouted.

The Grey God grunted as he hit a column and rose. Jule waved him away. Darian's head was spinning, his mind reverberating with the power of the site. Instead of draining his power, the woman was shoving power into him. He staggered away from the monument and lightning connecting the woman with the clouds and dropped to his knees on the other side of the hill.

The strange sensations within him remained. She'd taken power from the Other, from the dead, from the Guardians, and even from the Original Beings, who fed her power in hopes of short-circuiting her. She'd blasted him with it. Instead of destroying him, it made him stronger.

It became his. Panting, he rolled onto his back, unable to regain his balance while his body twitched from magic. The gateway yawned open over the monument. He'd cracked the gateway when Jonny became the Black God, and now, the immortal realm peeked from the clouds into the mortal world.

Darian didn't remember it any more than he remembered much of the thousands of years he spend enslaved by Jonny's predecessor. He recalled agony, and the darkness of his thoughts amplified the pain of the new magic in his blood.

"Darian." The Watcher's voice pierced his confusion. "You don't have much time."

"I can't kill her," he said.

"It's too late for that. The Original Beings will handle her. It's time for you to act."

The Grey God pushed himself to his knees. His body seemed too weak to contain his newfound power.

"The seal will never be whole again," the Watcher said in a hushed tone, his green eyes on the sky. "So be it. You will have to balance the realms in a way we didn't desire."

Gatekeeper. The Original Vamp and Sofi had called him the same thing. Darian wobbled to his feet.

"I'm ready, I think," he said. "What do I do?"

"Whatever you must. The Others cannot be allowed into your world." The Watcher winked out of existence, and Darian looked up.

The power within him stabilized and filled him until he felt ready to explode.

"Sofi?" he whispered. "I don't know what to do."

The Oracle was silent. Darian drew a deep breath.

... balance the realms ...

Gatekeeper.

Xander approached the woman from one side and Jule from the other. He met her gaze and saw the confusion that crossed her features. Xander took the first shot. She blocked, her gasp audible as the Original Being's energy flew through her. The vamp's blow and magic threw her to the ground. He stepped back, and Yully rolled away before climbing to her feet.

The Other no longer smiled and took a step forward, unwilling to move closer to his daughter with the Original Vamp standing between them. Yully was floating again. Instead of preparing to face off the vamp, she floated upwards. Jule could see the energy flying to her. Lightning no longer left her for the clouds. She was holding it within her.

"Yully!" he shouted. "Yully, stop!"

The vamp snatched her out of the air and flung her to Jule. Jule caught her. He almost missed her first punch and caught the second, pulling her against him. Her eyes were glazed, her body too hot.

"Jule," she whispered. "I need your magic."

"Sweetheart, you have to let it go before it kills you."

"No. I have to destroy him, or he'll destroy you. I can do this, Jule."

Something melted within him at her words. Her body shook with her effort to contain the magic. Jule looked up at Xander, who stood near the Other, waiting. Their plan was risky, but the alternative was killing the woman he loved.

"You still with me?" he asked as she started to sag.

"Yes."

"On the count of three. You can end this, Yully." Jule released his newfound power into her. Yully's body bucked in his arms, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. "Three, two, one. Now, Yully."

The woman didn't respond immediately. Jule held her tightly, struggling to balance the power flowing between them.

"You can do it," he whispered.

The woman pushed away from him and staggered. She dropped to her knees. Her gaze settled on the Other, and she forced herself up. The vamp moved out of her path. Jule trailed as closely as he dared.

Yully closed her eyes and reached out towards her father. Power flowed from Xander and Jule, through her toward the Other, pinning him against the pillar behind him. A loud crack, as if lightning were striking, sent a shockwave of power that made the monument tremble.

And then there was silence. Jule caught the woman as she fell. He heard a gurgled scream and looked up. The Original Vamp was tearing out the Other's throat. Xander raised the Other over his head and snapped his back over one knee.

"Yully," Jule called, cradling the woman in his arms. Her heartbeat was faint and slow. "C'mon, sweetheart. Stay with me." The bond between them was fading.

"Take her to Bianca," Damian said, approaching. "Unless healing is one of your newfound powers."

Jule looked up at him. The White God's fiery gaze was pinned to the Original Vamp, who lingered over the Other's body. Jule glanced at the vamp, who shrugged in response to his silent question about healing.

"Xander, what are you?" Jonny asked, drawing abreast of Damian. "And what was that?" He indicated the body of the Other at Xander's feet.

Jule gathered the woman in his arms. He couldn't yet understand the magic in his veins, unleashed by the vamp without any explanation of its depths.

"Damian," Jule said, standing with his mate cradled in his arms. The White God's power pulsed around him, and he looked ready to blast the vamp before him.

"I know, I know. Tell Dusty not to blow everything up, and leave the vamp alone," Damian said. "Go on. We're just going to chat."

If not for Yully's fading energy, Jule would've stayed to make sure Damian's version of chat resembled his and not Dusty's, who was more likely to shoot first and discuss later. Instead, he closed his eyes and Transported to the ranch.

"You'd think if you're a god, people wouldn't keep secrets from you," Damian started. "Jonny, to answer your question, Xander is an Original Being, one of the handful of the oldest immortals in existence."

"Wow," Jonny breathed.

Damian looked at him, irritated at the Black God's youth. While he would never claim to miss Jonny's crazy predecessor, Czerno, at least the former Black God was capable of a poker face. The kid beside him was openly gaping in awe at the massive vamp.

"As is Jule," Xander added. "Seems he kept that secret from you as well, ikir."

"I knew I could trust him to tell me when he needed to," Damian replied. "You, on the other hand, I don't trust."

"I'm the Black God's most trusted servant," Xander said.

"Damian, he's my most trusted servant," Jonny echoed, turning to him.

Xander smiled at the demonstration of his power. Damian wasn't amused.

"Jonny, step aside," he ordered.

The Black God hesitated and then moved away, leaving Damian with the Original Vamp.

"You here for very long?" Damian asked.

"Looks that way. All the Originals have been freed and expelled. I landed here," Xander replied.

Damian studied him, not sure what to think of the oldest vamp in the universe. Xander was too powerful to care what went on around him. Nothing on this world-- with the exception of the combined power of the awestruck Black God and Damian-- were threats to him. Xander seemed like nothing more than a bored guest. One of Sofi's peculiar predictions returned to Damian, and he thought of the Guardian he'd assigned to Jonny. Sofi claimed Jenn would have a protector, and there was no need to worry about what Jonny might do. There was only one vamp in Jonny's camp more powerful than the Black God.

Damian never imagined her protector might be the towering vamp before him. There was more to Xander than Damian could pinpoint. He didn't have the need to kill like a normal vamp, and he hadn't landed here by accident.

"I take it you're not a fan of the Others," Damian said.

Xander's lip curled with a growl. He looked at the body beneath him and kicked it. Damian almost smiled.

"I have about three weeks left in my truce with Jonny," Damian started. "The gateway between realms is cracked, and I have a slight Watcher infestation problem. Jonny isn't quite ready yet to deal with the Others who have been stirring up trouble within the vamp ranks."

Xander crossed his arms, his head tilted in interest as he listened.

"I don't want either the Watchers or Others on my planet," Damian finished. "And I can't wait for Jonny to figure out how to do his job. With Jule-- and you-- I think we have a chance of ridding the planet of the immortal interference and returning to our day-to-day battle between good and evil."

"Jonny is not the only God who doesn't know his job," Xander pointed out. "The Gatekeeper has yet to step up."

"Leave that to me," Damian replied. "He'll be ready when the time comes. I want the immortals to fight in their realm and leave us to fight here."

"And after the truce?"

"Business as usual. I'll have Jule, and Jonny will have you. The balance will be maintained."

"What's in it for me?" Xander asked.

"Nothing," Damian said and crossed his arms. "Your choice."

"You Guardians don't understand how to bargain."

"I don't have a need to bargain."

The vamp said nothing. Damian turned to walk away. Xander was there for a reason, and Damian suspected it had something to do with the immortals plaguing both gods. Damian made it halfway to the grass, where the Black God paced beside a calm Jenn, when Xander's low voice stopped him.

"Very well, Guardian. I will work with Jule."

"Good. He'll find you in a day or so," Damian said without turning. His gaze went to Jenn. "You okay?"

"Yes, ikir," she replied, though her eyes strayed to Xander. Damian heard the uneasy note in her voice and looked her over, his gaze lingering at her hips, where her weapons should've been.

"I told you she'd be fine, Damian," the Black God said, irritated.

"When Jule goes to see Xander, he'll stop by to have a chat with her," Damian replied. "Maybe she can explain to him why you stripped her of weapons."

Jonny glanced at Jenn, as if noticing for the first time that she wasn't armed. The Black God frowned and looked towards Xander. His hunch confirmed that Jonny wasn't running the show, and Damian pinned the youth with a heated look.

"I'll have them returned," Jonny said. "And Charles? Where is he?"

"He can track Others. He led us here." Damian lifted his head, indicating the three forms standing at the top of the hill. Charles' eyes glowed red in the night. He stood next to Dusty and another of Dusty's Guardians.

"Useful ability," Xander said. "Unfortunate I didn't know that before you traded him, Jonny."

Jonny flushed at his tone.

"Just part of the game, kid," Damian said to the Black God. "That's what happens when you have an Oracle for a mate."

"Damn Oracles," Jonny muttered.

"You have no idea," Damian replied then turned his attention to the figures on the hill. "Disarm and go home, Dusty!"

The assassin nodded. Damian glanced around Ballynoe once more, satisfied they'd resolved this mess without blowing up an international landmark. He closed his eyes to Transport home, well aware he had to figure out what to do when the Watchers came for Jule's woman, which they certainly would.

* * *

Jenn pounded into the punching bag. Being surrounded by vamps all day and night made her crazy with the need to kill a few. Pissing off Jonny wasn't part of her plan, so she took her anger out on punching bags every evening. Jonny had begun disappearing in the evenings with most of the vamps, and she knew he was out hunting humans.

She hit the punching bag harder, sweat dripping down her body and soaking her leggings and sports bra. She waited until the vamps were gone before going to the gym, not wanting to tempt any of them to attack her while she was half-naked and distracted. Jonny had given orders that no one touched her, but she'd seen firsthand how well the vamps followed the Black God's directives. The mess in Ireland earlier made her body crawl in memory of the dangerous power.

"Good form and energy."

"Leave me alone, Xander. This is me time," she warned.

He came into view and moved around the punching bag. He was taller than it by a head. He braced it for her, watching. She ignored him, until it was clear he wasn't going anywhere.

"What?" she demanded, dropping her arms.

"You're not fully twisting your wrist when you punch with the right hand."

She stared at him then shook her head and punched again. While she wanted to ignore his advice, she found herself double-checking. He was right. She punched slowly a few times until she was certain she'd corrected her punch.

"Are you so bored you have nothing better to do?" she asked between punches.

"You do amuse me."

"Great!"

"Twist your hip more when you hit with the left."

She glared at him but adjusted her form. A few more punches, and she grew too uncomfortable with him to continue. Jenn lowered her hands and strode to the small collection of her things: a towel for the gym, a bottle of water, and a backpack filled with the weapons Jonny had given her when they returned a couple hours ago from Ireland. The Black God had mumbled an apology before leaving her alone to join the vamps on a hunt. She didn't have to ask him to know he didn't dare confront Xander about it.

"I can't imagine you came here to watch me beat the shit out of a punching bag," she said and took a long swig of water. "Did you take down the door to my room this time?"

"Brave," he said. "I've enjoyed my interactions with the Guardians."

Curious, she paused with the water bottle halfway to her mouth then set it down and flung the towel over her shoulder. The vamp was quiet.

"And?" she asked.

"The Oracle didn't tell you you're intended for ... greatness?"

Jenn clamped her mouth shut. Sofi had said similar before Dusty almost blew up Florida. Jenn thought little of it at the time.

"I think we'll keep you past the thirty days, just to be sure a certain Grey God does what we want him to," Xander continued.

"Darian?" Jenn asked. "What does this have to do with Darian?"

"She didn't tell you."

"Who didn't tell me what?" she demanded, approaching him and glaring up at him. "Spill it, Xander."

"You're his intended."

Jenn frowned. "His intended what?"

"His mate," Xander said with his slow smile. "Powerful bargaining chip to have you here."

"That's crazy, Xander. She'd never tell you that! Besides, Darian isn't ..." ... my type. The words died on her lips.

"Interesting," he said. "The Grey God may not think the same."

"No, you're wrong," she said and snatched her things from the floor. "Darian wants nothing to do with any woman after what he's been through." She strode towards the door, fed up with the vamp toying with her.

"What was the second lesson you taught Jonny? Everyone associated with your target is a weak point."

Jenn paused in the doorway of the gym. For the first time since he began his sick games, Jenn felt genuine fear trickle through her. She didn't know if he'd met with the Oracle or not, but his words sounded eerily like Sofi's, who had claimed her destiny merged with Darian's.

"Everyone fears something, Guardian," Xander reminded her.

"And you? What do you fear, Xander?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Exactly what you fear, that what should happen, won't."

She turned to look at him. She didn't expect the Original Being to admit to fear. He manipulated the Black God like a puppet and quietly ran the vamps Jonny wasn't yet capable of managing. He'd let her live, knowing she was obligated to report everything to Damian and powerful enough to be dismissive of any threat she might cause. The idea he feared anything amazed her. In that moment, she almost felt a human connection to the creature with the red eyes.

"What should happen for you?" she ventured.

"Go and rest, Guardian. You'll need it," he said. "And yes, I took your door."

Jenn bit back a retort and left, unable to shake the sense he'd told her something he didn't mean for her to know. She strode to her room, irritated by another thought. She'd felt a connection to Darian early on, as soon as she met him, but she'd never allowed herself to dwell on it, even when he sought her out almost daily to spar.

After her conversation with Xander, she couldn't help wondering if there was something more that made Darian seek her out or made her willing to humor him.

## Chapter Nine

Yully awoke in a cozy bedroom that smelled of lavender. Light poured in from a large window, and a fan overhead made the curtains flutter.

"Hey."

She twisted at the sound of Jule's voice. He sat beside her bed, his large body awkward in the small chair. He wore a snug T-shirt that displayed the roped forearms covered in tattoos. Tattoos peeked from the V-neck of the T-shirt. His dark gaze was steady, his body rippling with the power she couldn't quite pin down. The flow of energy between them, though, was open and warm. She was safe again.

"Hey," she replied.

"How're you feeling?"

"Tired but good." She looked around again and drew her knees towards her chest. "Where are we?"

"Home," he said with a slow smile. "Temporary home. Damian's headquarters is in Texas for now. You'll find home is wherever we are." His words warmed her from the inside.

"I like that idea," she said. She held out a hand to him, and he took it. "My father ..."

"We sent his soul back to the immortal world."

"Good, I think," she whispered, chewing her lip. "I guess I should feel sad, but I don't. I still feel angry."

"You have every right to feel angry," he replied. "You're safe now. No one can ever hurt you again." His gaze flared at his words, and the energy between them pulsed. This time, he wasn't a fever-riddled man incapable of defending her.

"Something happened to you," she said.

"I regained a couple things I thought I'd lost." His look was too intense for her to doubt she was among what he'd discovered. "Do you feel well enough to take a walk?"

Yully cleared her throat and nodded, her face hot.

"I'll come get you in a minute. Bianca brought you some clothes." He indicated the neatly folded clothing on the table beside the bed. He kissed her hand and left her alone.

Yully looked around again, uncomfortable in the strange place without him. She wore a soft nightgown and changed into the clothing left for her. The window was open, assuring her it was neither cold nor raining. The jeans, T-shirt, and sandals would suffice. Whoever Bianca was, she'd thought of everything. Next to a small toiletry bag was a brush, hair clip, and scrunchie.

She wasn't accustomed to anyone taking the time to think of her. Her father sent her to the store for her own things since she was adopted. While she could've bought anything and everything she wanted with the handful of money he'd give her, she found even the simple thoughtfulness of a scrunchie touching.

Yully finished readying herself and stepped outside the room. Jule waited patiently, a smile crossing his face as he took her in. He held out a hand, and she hugged him instead of taking it. The warmth of his body made her senses tingle with both need and happiness. While she didn't quite know where she was, she felt a sense of belonging.

"You can have hugs whenever you want," he said with a laugh. "And anything else."

"Just you," she replied. "Everything else terrifies me right about now."

"You have nothing to fear, sweetheart," he said and tilted her chin. Yully met his gaze, utterly relaxed and content with his heat and power moving through her. His thick arms squeezed her closer. "C'mon. Let's meet your new family."

Her chest tightened at his words, but she nodded. Jule took her hand and led her through the large log house with its earthy décor. They paused in the doorway of a large library, where a beautiful, petite blonde sat. Yully entered ahead of him and spotted the reclining Guardian dressed all in black in one corner.

"This is Sofi and her bodyguard, Pierre. Sofi is Damian's mate. She's also an Oracle, so she comes up with strange, random things sometimes," Jule said, winking at the small woman.

"Random?" Sofi repeated with a smile. She rose. "Happy to meet you at last, Yully."

"Welcome," Pierre called from the other side of the library. "Irish and French share common ancestors. We'll get along well."

"I'm actually not Irish," Yully said. "The accent says otherwise, but I was born in New York."

"Never mind. You're on your own," Pierre replied.

Yully looked at Jule.

"Ignore him. He amuses me," Sofi said with a smile. "Welcome home. Bianca's out back. You'll have some time here with us to adjust before Jule yanks you to Europe." The Oracle's gaze sharpened as she looked at Jule.

"Yes, ma'am," Jule said with a snort.

"Thanks," Yully murmured, amused to see the tiny woman stand up to someone Jule's size. He tugged her hand, and she followed him out of the library and through the sprawling house and a large kitchen to the back door.

A shapely woman with curly dark brown hair leaned against the railing of a paddock between the house and a large outer building. The Texas sun was gentle, and Yully enjoyed the light breeze and warmth after the Irish autumn. She shaded her eyes as they crossed to the paddock.

"Bianca!" Jule called. He turned to Yully. "She's a Healer. She can bring people back from the dead."

At Bianca's sunny smile, Yully could see the woman cheerfully helping the injured. The Hispanic woman hopped down from the fence and shielded her eyes to see them as they approached.

"Did you get a horse?" Jule asked, looking at the animal in the paddock.

"Yeah," Bianca said. "He's a rescue from a local rancher. He was headed for the dog food factory. Fixed him up, and he's good as new. We have dogs now, too."

"I always wanted a dog," Yully said. "You rescue them, too?"

"Yes."

"What you're saying is that you rescue pitiful animals like your mate," Jule said.

"Jule!" Bianca gave him a disapproving look that quickly melted into a smile. "He was lost when I found him. I think all these Guardian-men are."

Yully smiled, at ease with the two women she'd met so far. She hadn't had friends since she was twelve. The idea of spending her days with the reserved Sofi and cheerful Bianca was surprisingly appealing, though she couldn't help feeling intimidated by their happiness. She didn't think she was capable of such an emotion after living in fear for so long. Her gaze went up to Jule.

"Dusty around?" Jule asked.

"Probably in the gym with Darian," Bianca answered. "We'll see you for dinner, Yully?"

"Yes, of course," Yully answered.

Jule led her away, and Bianca returned to the railing. Yully looked up at Jule again.

"You ever think we have a lot to learn about each other?" she asked.

"We do," he confirmed. "But I know what's most important about you. The rest we can discuss over a lifetime."

"I like that idea," she said, surprised to find she did. "I kind of have your soul, don't I?"

"No kind of about it. You claimed me the first time you touched me," he said with a smile.

"Okay, good." She didn't have to wonder about him as she had her father. She'd never known what would set him off, or what would earn her a blow. Jule was right; she'd learned who he was in the alley, when she'd first touched his soul. He'd never hurt her, ridicule her, or think she was the freak of nature her father called her.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked.

"I'm glad I tried to turn you into a rock a few days ago," she replied. "And just as happy I failed."

Jule winked and opened the door to the gym. Several Guardians used the rows of machines or free weights while a few were gathered around the boxing ring in a corner. She recognized Damian and Darian as they neared and crept closer to Jule at the sight of the strange man with red glowing eyes. Two more men, one she recognized from the cottage, and another with darkly handsome Hispanic features, stood watching two Guardians box.

"Hi Yully." Darian was the first to spot them. Something had changed with him, too, and she sensed the subtle power that hadn't been there at the monument.

"You here to kick Darian's ass again?" Damian asked with an easy smile. She reddened and shook her head.

"This little thing beat you up?" the man with the chiseled features asked.

"And Jule," Darian pointed out. "She shot him and ran him over."

"It was a misunderstanding," she managed, her face hot.

"Jule kicks my ass every time we spar. I'm okay with you running him over," the man with the cool blue eyes said.

"I was human at the time," Jule responded. "Yully, you've met Damian and Darian. This charmer is my brother, Dusty, Bianca's mate. Bianca's sweet and cute, and Dusty's ... Dusty."

"Everyone likes Bianca," Darian added. "She doesn't tell people what to do."

Dusty eyed the wiry man coolly, and Damian chuckled.

"This is Toni, one of Dusty's Guardians. And this ... thing-- " Damian indicated the man with red eyes "-- is Charles. He's one of the Black God's men, an exchange student, here for a few weeks." The exchange student was growling at her.

The positive energy around the four men was contagious, and she found herself drawing it in. Unlike the cold rain of her father's energy, theirs was warm and cheerful, like her bond to Jule.

"Do you always glow?" Darian asked curiously.

"No, sorry." She pushed their energies away self-consciously at the sudden silence and sets of eyes gazing at her.

"You're probably tired today, but when you're ready, you're welcome to spar with us," Dusty offered. "Jule says you can fight pretty well."

"It's good stress relief," she replied.

"I need your man for a few minutes," Damian said. "You're welcome to stay."

"We can spar," Darian said. "I have my honor to regain."

Yully smiled and shook her head again. "I think I'll go see Bianca's horse," she said, more interested in the animal than being under the intent scrutiny of the Guardians.

"I'll catch up with you," Jule promised. He kissed her forehead and released her.

Yully left the gym, feeling as if she'd entered a new world. She drew a deep breath, stilling her nerves, and crossed to the paddock. Bianca was gone, and the horse dozed next to the fence. Curious about the great animal, Yully approached the fence. The horse's eyes opened, and it lifted its muzzle over the top of the railing. She rubbed its forehead and leaned forward to touch its neck, marveling at how soft its hair was. Absorbed by the horse, she didn't feel the hair on the back of her neck rise.

"Found you."

She turned to face the small man and gasped. He looked like her father, only his eyes glowed green where her father's had been purple. She took a step back, uncertain what the man was but aware her instincts were at a scream.

"The Other had you hidden well," the man said. "This is the first time I've been able to find you."

"Got him." The low growl drew her attention behind her, where the red-eyed man materialized beside Damian. She pressed her back to the railing.

"It'll be the last, Watcher." The White God's golden eyes were liquid and swirling as his mate's had. His power sizzled around him.

"She is too powerful for this realm, Damian," the green-eyed man said.

"Bullshit. You want to use her as you have the rest of us," Damian said. He stepped forward and motioned her behind him. "You can have her over my dead body."

"And mine," Jule said and materialized with two others. He held out his hand, and Yully went to him.

"And mine," Dusty said.

"Mine, too," Darian echoed.

Yully listened, breathless, to the strangers who vowed to protect her from a threat similar to her father. After a lifetime of rejection, she'd found a home with the very people her father warned her against.

"This has been a long time coming, Watcher, but don't come back," Damian said.

"And if you come near my mate again, I will show no mercy," Jule added in a quiet tone that promised action. The Watcher frowned, his gaze going from Damian to Jule.

"So be it," he said at last. "If this is the path you choose, we will not assist you when the Others come. We will look upon you as enemies." He disappeared in a wink of light.

Yully's heart soared higher than she thought was possible. She looked up at Jule, whose features were grim. A couple of them were talking quietly, but she didn't hear them, instead unable to fathom that anyone would find her life worth protecting after her father hadn't. Jule squeezed her hand.

Near tears, Yully tugged away from him and ran into the house. She navigated her way to her room before she started crying. She hadn't cried in years, unless it was out of pain from a particularly bad beating. The tears spilled fast and hot, but they weren't tears of anger or sorrow.

Jule excused himself quickly from his brothers and trotted after her. He felt her distress through their bond and suspected the Watcher upset her.

"You don't have to worry, kiri," he said, pushing the door to her room open. He sat beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm not," she managed. "I'm happy."

"You don't look happy." He laughed. "You look like Charles with those red eyes."

To his surprise, she pulled away from him and smiled, a brilliant sight that made her eyes sparkle and face glow. Yully wiped her tears and flung her arms around his neck, fluttering hundreds of kisses across his face.

"I have a home," she whispered. "You really are mine. He can't hurt us this time."

"For as long as you want me." He closed his eyes, enjoying her affection and her emotion.

"I know. I think I've always known," she said and rested her forehead against his. "I think I've loved you since I stole your soul."

"You stole my heart, too, kiri," he added. "I've never met anyone as sweet as you. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again, Yully, I swear this to you."

"I trust you, Jule."

Jule cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her deeply. Yully opened herself to him, and he shivered as their souls, then their bodies, met once again.

The War of Gods series

Damian's Oracle (October 2011)

Damian's Assassin (November 2011)

Damian's Immortal (December 2011)

The Grey God (May 2012)

The War of Gods 2011 Holiday Bundle (December 2011)

## Also by Lizzy Ford

History Interrupted – time travel romance

West

East

North (2016)

South (2017)

Omega Beginnings Series

Alessandra

Mismatch

Phoibe

Lantos

Theodocia

Niko

Cleon

Herakles

Omega Series

Omega

Theta (2016)

Alpha (2017

Non-Series – 2014 & 2015

Black Moon Draw (about a reader sucked into her book)

Highlander Enchanted (2015)

The Door

Water Spell (2016)

Dragon Tear (2016)

Lost Vegas Novellas – young adult post apocalyptic

Aveline (2016)

Tiana (2016)

Arthur (2016)

Black Wolf (2016)

Sons of War – contemporary military romance

Semper Mine

Soldier Mine

SEAL Mine (2017)

Super Villainess Chronicles

It's Not Easy Being Evil (2016)

It's Complicated (2016)

Starwalkers Serials (with Julia Crane) – new adult science fiction serial

Severed

Trapped

Exiled

Revealed

Escaped

Heart of Fire – sexy dragon shifter

Charred Heart

Charred Tears

Charred Hope

Incubatti – Buffy meets 50 Shades

Zoey Rogue

Zoey Avenger

Rhyn Trilogy – new adult paranormal with demons

Katie's Hellion

Katie's Hope

Rhyn's Redemption

Rhyn Eternal – Death finds love

Gabriel's Hope

Deidre's Death

Darkyn's Mate

The Underworld

Twisted Fate

Twisted Karma (2016)

War of Gods – paranormal with gods, guardians and exceptional humans

Damian's Oracle

Damian's Assassin

Damian's Immortal

The Grey God

Damian Eternal

Xander's Chance

The Black God

Hidden Evil – paranormal with angels and four horsemen

Hear No

See No (2016)

Speak No (2016)

Unnamed Series

Unnatural (2016)

Unmade (2017)

Omega

Omega

Theta (2016)

Alpha (2017)

Anshan Saga – new adult science fiction romance

Kiera's Moon

Kiera's Home (novelette)

Kiera's Sun

Santa's Ninja Elves (short stories)

Natasha & Hunter

Non-series titles – 2011 - 2013

Star Kissed

A Demon's Desire

The Warlord's Secret

Maddy's Oasis

Rebel Heart

Witchlings – young adult paranormal

Dark Summer

Autumn Storm

Winter Fire

Spring Rain

Broken Beauty Novellas – new adult dramatic fiction

Broken Beauty

Broken World

Voodoo Nights - young adult paranormal

Cursed

Chosen (TBD)

As SE Reign, erotica writer

101 Nights Box Set (Serials 1-7)

