The Black God (#2, Damian Eternal Series) Read online

  The Black God

  #2, Damian Eternal Series

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  By Lizzy Ford

  LizzyFord.com

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  Cover design by Eden Crane Design

  www.EdenCraneDesign.com

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  Smashwords EDITION

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  copyright ©2015 by Lizzy Ford

  LizzyFord.com

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  Cover design copyright © 2015 by Eden Crane Design

  www.EdenCraneDesign.com

  Cover photo copyright © 2015 by Miriam Gonzales

  www.miriamggonzalez.com

  cover model: alan Rojas

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  All rights reserved.

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  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.

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  This story is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental

  Prologue

  Four years after “Xander’s Chance”

  The twenty-four-year-old Black God, Jonny Rodriguez, towered over the purple-eyed, supernatural Other sprawled at his feet. Charged energy rolled off him into the plains of South Dakota, and the cool spring night did nothing to soothe the fiery power in his blood.

  “Last one,” said the man beside him. The Grey God, Darian, waited for Jonny to give the signal. Only a couple of people alive could kill one of the creatures at his feet, though Jonny’s godlike powers could definitely stop one in its tracks long enough for his temporary ally to crush it.

  There was a time when Jonny would have reacted to the Grey God’s pronouncement with triumph if not joy. But the grueling war with the Others – the enemies of humans, immortals and gods alike – had all but decimated his army of vampires. Of the ten thousand vamps serving him when he ascended to his position five years before, less than fifteen hundred remained. His all out war had cost him almost everything. He’d watched the creatures he was charged with defending die around him on a daily basis, and it numbed the part of him capable of feeling.

  His objective to destroy those who hurt or killed what was his to protect replaced every other concern. Nothing else existed outside of ensuring the enemies of his vamps were wiped off the planet. Nothing else mattered except demolishing his own personal resentment and anger, and what was left of his humanity, for the greater good of the vamps he now led.

  On the eve of his victory, he was … cold. Empty. He gazed down into the glassy eyes of the Other trapped beneath his power and couldn’t help thinking about tomorrow when there was no enemy for him to hunt and slaughter. His mind had shifted to the thought of the future the moment he realized the war with the Others was already won.

  As he stared at the Other, he realized he’d already moved on. The last death, the last enemy, meant little to him anymore, except possibly to serve as a warning of what might happen to his own vamps if he didn’t act quickly to deal with the White God, Damian, when this was over.

  His stomach grumbled. With little sleep or food for months, he was accustomed to running on empty. The last Other did hold some meaning – it would become his first real meal in too long.

  Jonny reached down and gripped the neck of the five foot tall creature. He hauled it to its feet, salivating at the rapid thrum of its heartbeat beneath his fingers. His fangs grew in anticipation. The Other squirmed, and Darian stood to the side, waiting.

  “This is gonna hurt,” Jonny told the creature.

  “You … cannot … kill me.”

  “Wrong answer, asshole.” Arrogant until the end, he thought. “I can definitely enjoy making you suffer before he kills you.” He tilted his head towards Darian. Not about to give the creature a chance to respond, Jonny tore into its throat.

  In truth, Others tasted like shit. But he was too hungry to care. He didn’t listen to the gurgled scream of the creature or stop when it ceased writhing. Warm, metallic blood poured down his throat. He drank and drank until his stomach began to feel full and then threw the body to Darian to finish off.

  Jonny tossed back his head to see the cloudy sky and closed his eyes, allowing himself the split second of victory before the reality of his critical situation returned. Darian snapped the neck of the Other and dropped it.

  “Never thought I’d see the day,” the Grey God said. “You did good, kid.”

  “I’m not a kid,” Jonny replied, opening his eyes. “I’m the fucking Black God.”

  “Yeah.” Darian winked. The golden-eyed Grey God was generally a loose cannon, whose side of crazy Jonny assumed resulted from ten thousand years of having his mind erased and living in slavery. Of all the Guardians and allies of the White God, Darian was the one Jonny tolerated best. “You wanna rein that shit in so we can all have a nice little chat?”

  The politics were starting already. Jonny looked around them. His magic was dark and laced with red lightning bolts. It spread for a mile in each direction, across the grassy plains, and destroyed every living thing it touched. Not even vamps survived an encounter with the magic. When he loosened his control, he had the ability to wipe out a city. The location for the final confrontation with the Others had been chosen carefully for that reason. His temporary allies offered their assistance in exchange for no humans being hurt.

  Ringed around his dark power was a buffer of white, Damian’s magic, to prevent Jonny’s power from spreading too far outside of the area. His vamps were beyond the white ring, waiting for the magic of both gods to subside.

  The Grey God was capable of moving through the power fields of both White and Black Gods – but he was the only one.

  Jonny released his breath and shook out his tense frame. His power responded to thoughts rather than commands, and the darkness around them dissipated.

  “Just, you know, play nice,” Darian told him, upbeat and unconcerned.

  Jonny wiped the blood from his mouth onto his sleeve. The Grey God was rarely fazed by anything, even the three week marathon of hunting the final Others that left Jonny wanting to tumble into his bed for a two day hibernation.

  The White God materialized seconds after Jonny’s power withdrew from the area. He was accompanied by the three Original beings who acted as mediators during negotiations and disputes, and the vamp Jonny trusted most.

  “Jonny.” Damian greeted him. The White God appeared pensive rather than happy about the Others being gone. Jonny knew why before the words left his mouth. “I know you’ll want a truce to recover, but I’m not inclined to agree this time. Not without strict terms.”

  “I wiped out your enemies. I think some leeway is due,” Jonny replied.

  “Even so … I think it’s time the training wheels come off. I’ve overlooked a great deal to give you some space to grow. I’ve got -”

  “Before you dictate how I should do my job,” Jonny interrupted, holding up his hands. “I’m one step ahead of you.”

  The Original Vamp, Original Human and Original Immortal watched, off to the side, their presences all but forgotten by Jonny and Damian. The Grey God was cleaning his nails with the sharp tip of a knife, listening and quiet.

  “I’m creating a catch-and-release protocol,” Jonny began. “You leave my vamps alone. In turn, we no longer kill humans bu
t continue to use them as a food source.”

  Damian crossed his arms.

  “That’s not possible,” said the Original Human, her pale features tight and luminous eyes on Jonny. “Your people are animals. You can’t teach an animal to respect its food.”

  “We’re not animals,” replied the Original Vamp. Seven feet of solid muscle and pure menace, Xander was one of Jonny’s on-again, off-again mentors. “Jonny and I spoke at length about this. It’s plausible.”

  “The kid can’t do much harm anyway at this point,” the Original Immortal agreed. Tattooed and dark skinned, Jules was one of the White God’s adopted brothers. “Most of his vamps are dead.”

  Jonny tensed at the reminder of his failure to protect his people.

  “You want me to trust you can manage your vamps well enough to ensure they don’t kill?” Damian asked.

  “Yes,” Jonny replied. “If one of mine kills a human, I’ll discipline the vamp.”

  Damian snorted. “Discipline.”

  “That’s vamp lingo for kill,” Xander said, amused.

  “It’s a good idea,” the Grey God chimed in. “But I’ve met some of your vamps. They ain’t gonna like it.”

  “Then they will be disciplined,” Jonny replied firmly.

  “I’m trying to figure out if you’re capable of doing this or trying to trick me,” Damian mused. “I’m not opposed. But, Jonny, your adjustment period has been a great deal of trial and error, with the emphasis on error.”

  Anger stirred within Jonny. He understood the concern after his first year or two of disastrous attempts at leading the vamps, but he also knew Damian hadn’t been close enough to see his transformation. “I can handle my vamps,” he said with great control. Every bone in his body wanted him to tell the people before him to fuck off and walk away to do what he planned to anyway. It was one thing to rule over the vamps, quite another to swallow the idea he was still viewed as incapable of handling his duty by outsiders whose opinions didn’t matter to him. Unfortunately, they also had power, and he was forced to be diplomatic rather than explain to them in no uncertain terms that his domain and his vamps were his to rule.

  His second in command, Charles, shifted, and Jonny took the subtle hint to offer a carrot he didn’t really want to.

  “If you don’t believe me, then I’ll agree to a trial period,” he added. “Six months.”

  “So you do want a truce,” said Damian.

  “Not a truce, a trial,” Jonny replied. “My goal is to change the relationship vamps have with humans. Make it more sustainable and give vamps a chance not to spend their lives hunted down and treated like animals.” He gave the Original Human a pointed look.

  “Never really took you for the idealistic type,” Damian replied. He glanced at Xander.

  Jonny had the sense the two were talking in their heads to one another. It irked him how he was treated like someone who didn’t have a clue when he had spent five years in his position, four of which were at war with the Others. He knew his domain inside and out after the daily updates about finances, resources, loss of life, and compromised locations.

  More importantly, he had learned how to use his power, how to crush the human side of him that was viewed as weakness by the predators he led. Vamps were accustomed to violence. It was the only language they really understood. While that might one day change, for now, he had to speak to them and discipline them in a way they respected.

  In the end, it was about the survival of his people, and Jonny was sworn to do whatever it took to ensure that happened, no matter how high the personal cost to him.

  “Six months,” Damian said. “If we catch any of your vamps fucking with Guardians or humans beyond what we deem acceptable as part of the catch-and-release program, they’re killed on the spot.”

  Jonny almost sighed in relief. He was looking forward to some rest and recovery time. “Fine,” he agreed.

  “This is a mistake,” said the Original Human, her frown deep.

  “Vote,” the Grey God suggested. “All in favor of letting Jonny run his own shit … hands up.”

  The Grey God, Xander and the Original Immortal voted with Jonny. The White God and Original Human voted against.

  “You get your chance, Jonny. Good luck,” Damian said. The White God turned and strode away, trailed by the Originals and the Grey God.

  Jonny didn’t sigh until they had disappeared. He wiped his face, exhausted, and observed the movement of his vamps in the plains around them. The numbers appeared even smaller than usual, and he shook his head, hating that he’d lost so many.

  “Ikir,” said Charles, Jonny’s second-in-command. He referred to him using the immortal word denoting a king or god, an ancient tradition left over from the time when the immortal realm existed.

  Jonny met his gaze.

  “We’re alone?”

  Jonny nodded.

  “We have a problem.”

  “Don’t we always?” Jonny replied wryly.

  “This is a new problem,” Charles said.

  “Can it wait for us to go back to the lodge?”

  “We can’t go back to the lodge. That’s part of the problem.”

  Jonny’s brow furrowed. He waited for his tense second to speak. Charles, normally blunt, was hesitant.

  “There are some vamps who disagree with … things,” Charles started. “Some who have taken matters into their own hands. It started with the catch-and-release proposal you emailed everyone about last week.”

  “I’m sure it started before that,” Jonny said. “I know there’s an undercurrent of dissatisfaction with me being in charge. It’s not just Damian who doesn’t like it.”

  “Change is always difficult, more so to an organization that’s been around for over ten thousand years.”

  “Then what’s the newest problem?”

  “We lost some vamps to what I’ll call a mutiny.”

  Jonny almost laughed. How did any of his vamps have the energy to form a mutiny when they’d been obsessively pursuing the Others for so long? “All right. So we have a few volunteers to be disciplined publicly. We’ll make them examples,” he said.

  “Hmmm. Yeah that’s not going to work, ikir. We lost almost half of our vamps.”

  Jonny’s humor faded. “Did you say half?”

  Charles nodded.

  Coño! The foul curse word he’d learned from his Cuban grandfather had been used more the past few months than any other single word he knew.

  The news of his rebellion was nowhere near expected and yet, after the strain of the past few years, Jonny didn’t feel its impact. He was too numbed, too fatigued, to react how he suspected he should. “Just when I thought things were going to ease up for a bit … I guess our night isn’t over yet, is it, Charles?”

  “No, ikir. I think our night is just beginning.”

  I’m not telling Damian about this one, Jonny vowed to himself. With any luck, his six months of relative peace from the direction of the White God would give him the room he needed to fix his latest mess. Was that all leadership really was? Dealing with one emergency after another?

  If nothing else, his pursuit of the Others had taught him a thing or two about patience. “Pick a backup location. Somewhere warm,” he ordered. “I’m from Miami. I’m sick of this cool weather shit.”

  “We’ll need a new location. The vamps who went rogue are from the old guard. They know our current backlist of locations,” Charles said. “They also probably know you hate cold weather. I’d advise avoiding Miami for now.”

  Jonny rested his hands on his hips. Being a god with incredible power was rarely as appealing as it sounded. “Fine,” he said finally. “Surprise me. Just don’t send us to the fucking Tundra.”

  Chapter One

  Several months later

  Jonny sucked in deep breaths as he observed the results of the mini-massacre on the rooftop of a tall hotel overlooking the San Diego Bay. Moonlight glinted off waves caused by a cargo ship ambling past,
some forty stories below, and wisps of fog strayed from the ocean into the bright yet quiet city.

  “Forty three,” reported the red-eyed vamp beside him.

  “All vamps?”

  “All new vamps.”

  That’s what I thought. Jonny did the calculations before dropping from the ventilation box on which he stood onto the roof. His hands were coated in the blood of vamps he’d killed this night, and the metallic flavor was in his mouth. He licked away the droplets from his fangs and spit them out.

  Unlike humans, vamps tasted horrible. He’d long since come to the conclusion it was probably an evolutionary survival thing, so no vamp would resort to eating another. They had no problem eating everything else that breathed.

  “We’re not moving fast enough. They’re vamping twice as fast as we are,” he said finally, aware his second in command was waiting. “We need better and more intel, Charles.”

  “I’m working on it.” Charles followed his gaze. “There’s always the last resort for information.”

  “I’m not going to them,” Jonny returned. “They can’t know about this after the mess with the Others.”

  “We don’t have to tell them how bad it is. We just have to ask them for information tracking a few rogue vamps.”

  Jonny clenched his jaw tight enough for the muscles of his cheek to pulse. In the years since he’d become the Black God, he’d struggled to control the legions of vamps accustomed to a different master, an older one, one they feared. They hadn’t respected the terrified teen boy that took the former god’s place. However, the vamp army was largely united under the common threat of the Others, the primary supernatural threat to the vamps.

  On the eve of his final triumph, the rogue element of his vamp army - led by Valon, a member of the old guard who hated the new Black God - broke off and formed their own independent group.