Damian's Immortal (War of Gods, Book 3) Read online

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.