"Not yet." Charles checked his phone.
"If they're late, send in as many as you can spare to rescue them. We can't let the rogue vamps get it." With the Others out of play, he'd stumbled upon one of their secrets while tracking and eliminating the last of them. The Others were able to locate vamps and Guardians at will, which was one of the reasons they were such a threat. No one was able to hide.
Once he figured out how to use it, the otherworldly device would make the difference between him defeating the rogue elements and Valon's vamps winning this war. His only challenge was preventing word from leaking to the Guardians about his civil war before he could stop it.
"Understood," said Charles. "You headed back?"
Jonny shook his head. "I need to ask someone something."
"Ah. Good luck."
Jonny didn't reply. Charles could help him with tactics and strategy, but so could anyone else who had been around long enough. His ongoing struggle was with understanding the power of a god charged with being the devil. His off and on guidance came in the form of the Original Vamp, the first natural born vamp, who was as dangerous as he was helpful. Jonny was tired of not knowing how to fix his own issues without asking for help from someone likely to cash in the favors one day. On nights like these, he didn't feel like he had much of a choice.
He Traveled to a nearby beach and knelt to wash his hands in the cold waters running onto shore. Releasing a breath, he rolled his shoulders and head, unable to shake the wired frustration he'd been dealing with for the past four months. As much as he loved the ocean, it wasn't helping calm his nerves this night.
Being a god wasn't easy. Being the Black God … well, he'd had to unlearn a lifetime of reality in order to embrace his duty. His job was to ensure the survival of a race of predators who fed off humans, and he'd long since reached the conclusion he couldn't do it alone. He didn't have the numbers or the infrastructure he needed.
The vamp way of life for the past ten thousand years wasn't sustainable. He'd already won one war and wasn't anywhere near capable of facing another so soon. He wasn't willing to continue the long-standing war with the White God when the casualties were already too high - and disproportionately vamp.
To preserve his people, he needed peace. And peace meant difficult compromise.
"What is it?" the low growl came from the mentor he hadn't been certain he wanted to see.