Damian's Oracle

Damian snorted, gaze lingering on the map. Something was really wrong in Europe, and he needed to figure out what, before the European front was overrun by vamps. His thoughts returned to the Watcher, and he wondered just how many of his problems were caused by traitors influenced somehow by the beings coaching Czerno. With any luck, his Watcher wouldn't fail him.

His phone rang. He glanced at the number and let it go to voicemail, not recognizing it.

"I've got two rotating to Tucson," Jule said. "They're en route. I want Han, though, D. You promised."

"I know, I know. He's sick of it here anyway."

A crash came from the hallway. By the sound of it, it was one of his favorite, priceless, Ming vases. With his luck, the kids were loose in the house. Irritated by the mention of Claire and the idea of his collectibles being destroyed, he snatched his phone to call for Han.

"Dusty, can you-"

A scream jarred him.

WTF? Dusty typed.

"What he said," Jule echoed. "Everything-"

A second scream. Damian rose. His door flew open to reveal a huge, furry monster with fangs.

"What the fuck is going on? And why are you dressed like a sadistic teddy bear?" Damian demanded.

"You need to see this, D." The Guardian's muffled voice grew louder as he pulled the head off the costume. By his tone, something was more wrong than the horrible costume.

"Guys, we'll talk later. D out," he said into the mic before tossing it on the desk. "This better be good."