He dressed in clothing more suitable for a college student than a god and tucked his phone into the back pocket of black jeans.
Charles awaited him obediently outside his room. Jonny glanced at him as he emerged into the hallway and headed towards the stairs to the ground floor. He had grown accustomed to being waited on hand and foot by the loyal vamps. It no longer surprised him to find someone in the hallway at all times of the day and night, ready to jump if he told them to.
"I have three. Toby, Elijah and Liam," Charles reported. "They're assembling now. Any instructions on what to do if the Guardians return before the mission is complete?"
"Kill the Guardians, avoid killing humans. And make sure no one ever figures out what we're really doing there. Make it look like some random vamp attack."
Charles nodded. "Damian will likely come calling."
"I can handle him. I want reports before and after."
"Of course."
Jonny checked his watch. It was close to five. "Go."
"Leonard and Stu will be in the ops center in case you need anything."
Jonny nodded before summoning his magic and Traveling to Seaport Village in San Diego. The street sellers lining the boardwalk were starting to pack up as the shadows lengthened. The evening crowd began to clog the boardwalk. He strolled down the wide sidewalks, observing those around him with absent interest before turning his gaze to the bay. His heightened senses would pick up a Natural, Guardian or vamp a mile before he saw them. He was reading none of them around, just normal humans strolling along with loved ones, completely unaware of who he was. Of what he was.
He still found it strange how he could mix and mingle with people and no one suspected how different he was. The world of the Black God had started off surreal. Now, it was the everyday life of a human he could no longer imagine. With immortality all but promised to him, he stopped seeking friendships or family outside the circle of vamps. It hurt too much to lose someone, and pain became a distraction he didn't need. Explaining to an outsider who he was and what he did wasn't even an option.
But every once in a while, he experienced an ache of loneliness, the yearning to be normal, to form relationships with others who weren't monsters, to pursue college instead of figuring out how to rein in mutinous vamps.
He paused at the railing and gazed at the ocean, trying to block the human remorse in his heart and refocus on his duty. Because that's all he had become when he killed the last Black God to take his place. He had become a creature bound by duty whose personal interests were no longer important. There was no place for emotions or doubt or mercy, not when such human weaknesses stood in the way of defeating his enemies and were interpreted as cowardice to the vamps he led. The civil war was a greater threat than the White God, and one he felt personally responsible for after how long it'd taken him to accept his duty.