Damian's Assassin

"No, kiri," he chided. "None of that shit. You were late on purpose today so we'd happen to stop by the stash house."

"Whatever, Dusty."

"Don't even try to lie, kiri," he said with a chuckle. "I've almost killed you once today." He'd served as Damian's executioner for thousands of years, a position he found fitting for his general dislike of the human capacity for evil. There was right and wrong, good and evil, and every human but the woman before him had fallen for some temptation of the dark side. After millennia dealing with the dark side of humanity, he didn't think there was anyone else pure left.

"I know you love me," she said. "And yes, maybe I did set today up."

"Congrats," he said. "I'll be an uncle."

"Yep." He couldn't help feeling thrilled at the prospect of Damian's son. Damian himself would be overjoyed, and Jule-- the third adopted brother in their threesome-- ecstatic. He pulled out his phone to text Damian.

Bro, come visit soon.

He hadn't heard from either Damian or Jule in two weeks. He suspected Damian sealed the European region to prevent magic moving in and out. Even so, he should've heard from one of them by now. In all their years together, they'd never been out of communication more than a few days.

He sensed something wrong but kept it from the petite woman beside him, who had enough of her own issues to deal with. He'd have to track down Darian soon, though what the unpredictable, volatile Grey God was doing was beyond his ability to guess. He'd activate the GPS later and hunt him down if he wasn't in the mansion that served as the Guardians' headquarters.

The drive home was quick as he dwelled on his thoughts. He escorted Sofi to her room, and was surprised to find the Grey God in his room. He knocked once before entering.

Darian lay on his back staring at the ceiling with brooding golden eyes, his horribly scarred body hidden under turtleneck and gloves and socks, even in the safety of his room. The only skin not covered was his face and part of his neck, both of which were channeled and knotted by scars. Darian-- who was older than everyone but Jule-- was going through what Sofia called a teenager phase as he struggled to re-establish his identity after thousands of years as a brainwashed slave.

"Dusty, did you ever consider working for the Black God?"

"No," he said without hesitation, accustomed to Darian's odd questions.

"You would have been good at it. He hates humans, too."

"I hate evil," Dusty replied.