Guardians of the Akasha (2 page)

“Hmm,” Daemon murmured again. “The cattle are not my concern. The day will come when they will be forced down where they belong, and we will take our place at the top.”

Julius got ready for the familiar rant, but Daemon controlled himself with visible effort and continued. “However, if she is surrounded by Guardians, it might be problematic.”

“Sir,” Julius hesitated.

“Speak!”

“Our insider reported that the old woman might take Marco with her to the function.”

“Marco Santana?” Daemon hissed. His eyes flared and Julius took an involuntary step back.

“Yes, Sir,” Julius swallowed.

“So, the old crone suspects something. She must be really concerned to have the Leader of the Draaken by her side,” Daemon giggled.

The hair rose on the back of Julius’ neck and his feet itched to leave the room, but his mind overrode the impulse and forced his body to remain still.

“Ha! The Guardians think their soldiers will protect them. They believe that Marco Santana and his Draaken are invincible. I will use their skins to bind my books!” Daemon spat.

The ringing of Julius’ phone froze the scene. “Are you going to get that?” Daemon asked in velvet tones.

“Yes, Sir.” Julius fumbled to get the phone out, flipped it open and listened to the person on the other side.

“Yes…yes…yes.”

Daemon waited; his black eyes reaching furnace temperatures as his impatience grew.

“Hold on,” Julius instructed and faced his boss. “Sir, good news. They’ve identified the woman from footage from a security camera outside the club. It shows her leaving, and the man who was attacked following closely behind. Her name is Keira Wilde.”

“A Wilde. I should have known. That family is long overdue for its extinction,” Daemon mused.

“Sir, they’ve uploaded a photo of her to my phone.”

Daemon held his hand out in silent command. He stood staring at the small screen for a moment. “Well, well. Where
have
you been hiding,” he murmured.

“Your orders, Sir?” Julius asked.

“Tell the team to intercept her; bring her here, unharmed. I would like to invite her to join my—our—cause. Also, make sure that security tape disappears.”

Julius took back his phone, relayed the message and waited for further instructions.

“Go!” Daemon screeched. “Go to London and catch me some prey!”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Goodbye, Sir!” Julius babbled and scrambled out of the office. He caught Ms Domain’s smirk as he flew past her towards the fire escape door. He had no inclination to wait for the elevator.

*****

Flames flickered in Daemon’s eyes as he stared at the door through which his Lieutenant had fled.

So, you decided to show yourself again. All those years ago, you must have been just a girl. Your magick was only a flicker in the Akasha, but so pure—ahh—the feel of it!

You are so much stronger now, yet still uncontrolled. Does that mean the old woman hasn’t gotten to you yet? Such power in such an alluring package. You would compliment me beautifully.

The culmination of years—decades—of planning is near. My destiny beckons. Come to me, come and let me show you how we will rule the world.

Chapter 3

The cupboard was dark. One slice of light found its way through a hairline crack in the wooden door, illuminating dancing dust motes in a brief spotlight.

The musty smell of winter coats wrapped itself around her; she hugged her knees and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to provide an escape for the threatening tears.

“I will not sneeze, I will not cry, IwillnotsneezeIwillnotcry.”

Within her small body, the fear of discovery warred with a blinding need for revenge. Flashes of taunting children and a flying rock played itself in an unending loop through her mind. She pressed the back of her hand to her swollen lip. It wasn’t bleeding anymore.

‘Nagwa, I need you!” she whispered. “You were right: magick doesn’t belong at school. Please, please take me away from this place,” she stifled a sob.

Blinding light erupted into her hiding place as the cupboard’s door flew open. “Got you, Devil’s child!” a shrill voice exulted.

Sister Julia had found her.

The nun dragged her by her ear down an unending, shadowed passage; the pain was a flowering red bloom in her head. Glimpses of girls whispering behind their hands flowed past her as she stumbled in the nun’s wake. Every snicker and glare was a blow to her heart.

*****

Keira clawed her way out of the depths of the nightmare. She dragged her eyes open and fought the panic down as her limbs refused to move; a twisted nest of sheets held her tight. She took a few deep breaths and extracted herself from the tangled mess. Once free, she fell back on her pillow and tried to get her racing heart back to a steady rhythm.

It had been a long time since this nightmare reared its ugly head. Keira’s first years at St. Catherine’s boarding school were unpleasant, to say the least. That particular day, however, had manifested itself in recurring nightmares that led to many sleepless nights.

Her parents had sent her to St. Catherine’s when she was six years old. It was the thing to do for wealthy families that wanted their little girls to grow up and become ladies of good standing. The only problem was that Keira stood out like a thoroughbred in a tank full of sharks.

It didn’t help her popularity that a wind seemed to rise whenever she got angry, or that a black raven was spotted sitting in the tree outside her room on the boarding school’s second floor. Neither did it help that the three girls she shared a room with that first year saw her talking to the raven when he flew to the windowsill; nor that they heard her call him ‘Nagwa’ and asked him to take her home.

On the day of the nightmare, after enduring two years of taunting, Keira’s control snapped. It was lunch time when Keira heard the raven’s harsh ‘kruk-kruk’ cry and girls’ exited screeches. He must have been sleeping in the tree when the rock struck his body. He had fallen to the ground and was disoriented, desperately flapping his wings and trying to get back in the air. Keira had fought her way through the press of girls circling the injured bird, fell to her knees next to him and covered his body with her own.

“Who did this, who did this,” she whispered in anguish. She touched his feathers and the connection was instantaneous. Her view shifted and became a wavering, monochromatic scene. She looked down at a little girl—Isobel Montgomery—who lifted her arm and threw—
No time to fly away—the pain
—

Keira jumped to her feet and her scream of rage reverberated around the tight circle, killing the giggles faster than Sister Julia’s frown ever could. A rising wind moaned through the tree and creaked its branches.

“Isobel,” she hissed.

“Yes?” An angelic girl with wide, innocent blue eyes, stepped forward.

“You—” Keira didn’t have words, she could only point at the raven at her feet.

“Yes,” the girl grinned. “Birds carry disease, didn’t you know? Look at it; we should just get rid of it.”

Keira didn’t see the second rock in Isobel’s hand, but when the girl raised her arm and threw it at Nagwa, she lunged forward and it hit her on her mouth. She didn’t register the taste of blood, only the metallic surge of adrenaline and burning explosion of fury in her body.

She raised her arms and the wind howled in response. Lightning snaked and crackled its way around the school’s grounds. Girls screamed and ran for cover while Keira stood in the centre of the storm.

The next thing she remembered was cradling Nagwa in her arms, whispering to him to go home. He wasn’t safe around her.

Time disappeared again and then she was hiding in the coat closet. Sister Julia found her and dragged her to the Mother Superior. The old nun’s ranting about the work of the devil was brushed aside and the storm written off as a freak occurrence.

Keira wasn’t punished, but that was the evening the nightmare began.

*****

Keira pushed herself up from the bed, swung her legs over the side and clung to the edge as a wave of dizziness and nausea sent her stomach roiling. Glimpses of a man’s terror-filled eyes raced through her mind.

“Bloody hell!” Keira swore, dropping her head in her hands; then swore again as she touched her throbbing cheek.

“Keira! You awake? You said you wanted to get an early start,” Alison called and knocked on her bedroom door. “Coffee’s ready!”

“Yes—thanks—I’m coming!”

Keira stumbled into the en-suite bathroom and made it to the basin. She held on to the sides with both hands, leaned over and peered at herself in the mirror. A chalk white face framed by sleep-tangled hair reflected back at her. Dark rings lay like shadows under her eyes and the beginnings of a splendid purple bruise stained her cheekbone.

She sighed, bent her head down and stared intently at the small crack in the pale blue porcelain, trying to ignore a lurking headache and blot out the memories threatening to send her into a full-blown panic attack.

“Forget about it Keira! He won’t remember a thing. No one saw you. You couldn’t help it,” she whispered over and over, like a comforting mantra meant to soothe and heal.

She took another deep steadying breath and straightened up. A slightly calmer face reflected back from the mirror, still pale, but the haunted look was gone from her eyes.

“Nothing a shower and a shovel full of cosmetics can’t fix,” she said, and set about getting ready for the day.

Twenty minutes later she was dressed, hair done and face skilfully made up. She walked into the kitchen and joined Alison at the small round breakfast table.

“You look beat for someone who came home before me,” Alison remarked with a raised eyebrow and poured Keira a cup of strong coffee.

“And you look fabulous for someone who probably didn’t sleep at all,” Keira replied.

“Who needs sleep?” Alison asked. “Besides, I’ll sleep on the plane later. But wasn’t the party the best? It’s great to be done with school!” She laughed and twirled around the kitchen, her auburn curls bouncing and her blue eyes sparkling.

Keira smiled at her friend and nodded, “Yeah, it was great. Although, my liver is happy the partying is over.”

“Like Sammy would say: ‘Liver-schmiver, you only finish school once!” Alison huffed. “Oh, and speaking of Sammy, she said not to wake her up. You know how grumpy she gets if she hasn’t had enough sleep. We said our goodbyes earlier when we got back from the club.”

“About that,” Keira said, tracing circles with her finger on the table top. “I’m sorry I left before you guys last night. I was exhausted, and you know—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alison interrupted. “You’ve got a busy weekend ahead. We understand.” She stopped next to Keira’s chair and gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Once Sammy’s left tomorrow, you’ll have the place to yourself. Take the time to figure out what you’re going to tell your parents.”

Alison’s parents had bought the apartment when Notting Hill was still an undesirable artists’ colony. They didn’t view the area’s booming desirability and influx of gentry a plus and had, for the past few years, only used the apartment when they visited Alison at St. Catherine’s on a stop-over on one of their trips around the world.

They did however concede that it would be a good place for their youngest child and only daughter to live when she embarked on her career and had handed Alison the keys on her graduation day, two weeks ago. Much to Keira and Sammy’s delight, she had immediately invited them to be her roommates.

The only hitch was that Keira hadn’t told her parents yet.

“Of course, I still think you should do that gap year. You’ve always talked about travelling the world. Now’s your chance!” Alison encouraged.

“Great advice,” Keira took a sip of her coffee. “It’s just a pity that one, my parents don’t support the idea and two, they’ve already enrolled me for college in the new term. My dad is so happy ‘cause he thinks I’ll be following in his footsteps. If he could call that company ‘Wilde and Daughter Architects, Inc.’, he would have.”

Alison perched next to Keira and leaned her elbows on the table. “Look, Sammy and I will be back soon, then we can mount a frontal attack and convince your parents you don’t need to go, at least not right away. Tell them you need more time to decide.”

“I’ll try,” Keira sighed. “I know I’ve said it a million times before, but you two are so lucky. Your parents actually
support
you in what you want to do.”

“That’s only because we’ve both got older siblings who have worn them down by now. They don’t have the energy for another war. I think they’re just happy we’re doing something that might make us a bit of money.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll end up at Vogue and Sammy at Stella McCartney’s. Promise me you’ll throw some samples my way when you’re both famous!”

“Ha!” Alison laughed. “I’ve got this funny feeling that you’ll get there before us!”

The girls shared a giggle and clinked their coffee cups together in a toast. “To fame and fortune!” they cried, then shushed each other with glances down the passage to Sammy’s closed bedroom door.

“How about some breakfast?” Alison asked. “You know, you do look a little pale. Sure you’re up to shopping today?”

“No breakfast, thanks.” Keira couldn’t face the thought of food. “I have to go. The birthday is tomorrow. Can you imagine what will happen if I show up without a present for my mother?”

Alison nodded in sympathy. “She does tend to get her knickers in a knot about things.”

Keira grimaced. “It’s my own fault, leaving it until the last minute.”

“Are you taking the photos tomorrow?”

“No,” Keira said and looked down into her cup. “Mother has hired a ‘professional.’”

Alison let rip with an unladylike swear word. “You are the most professional photographer I know! Have your parents even seen your work?”

“Only the flowers and stuff, I haven’t shown them the abstracts. It doesn’t matter though. This way I can sit back and enjoy the day without having to rush around like mad. Besides, Aunt Vic is going to be there; I haven’t seen her in ages.”