Damian's Immortal

"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.