Guardians of the Akasha (4 page)

“Leave us alone, Isobel,” Keira said, her voice eerily calm. Sammy and Alison looked at each other in surprise, then also stepped forward to stand on either side of their friend.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Congeniality herself,” Isobel hissed.

Keira just stared at Isobel. “Back off. We’ve had enough of your shit.”

Isobel gaped at her for a second, then her blue eyes narrowed and she jumped forward, hands outstretched and fingers clawed. Before either of the girls’ friends could come between them, Keira had grabbed Isobel’s raised arms, her hands gripping the other girl’s wrists.

Isobel stopped in her tracks as if she had run into a brick wall. She gave an audible moan; her face turned deathly white and contorted in fear.

Keira let go of Isobel and the two girls stood staring at each other.

“You—are nothing—but a freak!” Isobel panted. She turned and took off as if all the hounds of hell were on her heels, followed by her entourage.

“Wow, girlfriend. What did you do?” Sammy asked with wide eyes.

“I showed her what would happen if she didn’t leave us alone. I’m done playing nice with her,” Keira answered through clenched teeth.

“Cool! Teach me how to do that?” Sammy said, but Keira laughed and changed the topic.

The three friends never spoke about what had happened, and neither did Isobel, but they were left alone from then on. Still, Alison couldn’t help but wonder.

She sighed and came back to reality as the plane jerked forward, increased speed, and lifted its nose into the overcast London sky.

Keira never needed her help before; why did she feel that she did now?

Chapter 6

Keira hated shopping on a Saturday. Harrods was busy, more than usual. Shoppers strolled or stormed, depending on their mission for the day, and didn’t care whether they caused a bottle-neck in the middle of an aisle or shouldered other people out of the way.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enticed Keira to sit down at Ladurée and order a cup. The smiling waitress talked her into a guilty indulgence, a chocolate croissant. While she waited, Keira watched the unending stream of people flowing past the coffee shop:

Parents with happy children who licked huge multi-coloured lollipops that came with a guaranteed sugar rush; parents with screaming children who probably wanted lollipops and weren’t getting any. Harried nannies dressed in black and white uniforms with babies in prams, following behind mothers dressed in pastels with ostrich leather bags clutched under an arm. Couples holding hands and wandering around in their own bubbles, old people and young people.

Keira never felt more alone.

You will have this one day. You will belong, too
, a small voice whispered in her ear.

Yeah, sure! Any man would be happy to be with a freak
, she answered the voice with a rueful shake of her head.

“Did you say something, Miss?” the waitress asked as she put the white porcelain cup and plate on the table.

“No, no, I didn’t,” Keira smiled her thanks and stirred cream into her coffee. She took a bite of the croissant and sat back with a contented sigh as the satin smooth chocolate melted in her mouth.

I don’t do this every day
. She stilled her conscience that was flashing the image of a scale at her. She finished her coffee and last crumbs of the croissant, collected her bag, the wrapped Hermès scarf and perfume for her mother, and strolled out of the store.

Outside, a fresh breeze made her pause and wrap her own scarf around her neck before she turned left and walked down Brompton Road. She was in no hurry to get home; Sammy wouldn’t stir until late afternoon and a quiet apartment held no appeal.

She was distracted, admiring a colourful window display, when a tall figure crashed into her. The wind knocked out of her, she gasped for breath. A pair of strong, leather-clad arms encircled her body as they both tumbled to the ground, the stranger breaking her fall. An electric current raised the hair on Keira’s arms as an invisible ripple of familiar energy whooshed over her head. It lasted only a split second, the time it took for the man to turn her over and cover her body with his.

“Oh!” she cried and pushed him off of her.

“So sorry,” a polite voice offered. Its owner got up and pulled Keira to her feet.

She looked up into cobalt blue eyes and forgot what she wanted to say.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Um, yes,” she answered and looked away in confusion.

He bent down to pick up her scattered packages. “I’m sorry, I didn’t look where I was going,” he offered again.

“It’s okay, I was distracted as well,” Keira dusted off her coat.

He looked her up and down. “Your knee is bleeding, let me help you.”

“No!” Keira dabbed at it with a tissue and tried to pull her skirt’s hem lower over her knees. “It’s okay.” Sudden tears of self-pity threatened to make a fool of her.

“I—I have to get home.”

“My car is near, I could take you. It’s the least I could do.”

“No, thanks, I’ll take a taxi,” she said, backing away.

“Are you sure? It would be no trouble.”

Keira shook her head, wanting nothing more than to get back to the apartment, away from this increasingly embarrassing situation.

“All right,” he said and gave her a last up-and-down look.

Keira watched as he stepped into the street and hailed a taxi. He held the door open, helped her inside and handed over her packages.

“Here,” he said and gave her a business card as well. “Call me if you need help.”

Why would I need your help?
She thought.

Keira took the card without looking at it. As the taxi pulled away, she laid her head back, closed her eyes, and let out a shuddering sigh. She only noticed the card still clenched in her hand when the driver stopped in front of the apartment building.

Marco Santana, MD: Santana Enterprises
. And a telephone number.

She rumpled up the card, put it in her coat pocket, and forgot about it.

*****

Marco waited for the taxi to leave, then slowly scanned the area. A Watcher stood in the shadows of a book shop’s entrance a few metres down the road.

The two men stared at each other for a long time before the Watcher shrugged and walked away.

Marco gave a hand signal to the other members of his team, ordering them to stand down. They couldn’t risk a battle in the street. He took his mobile phone out and dialled a number.

“You were right,” he said when Victoria answered. “They are getting more blatant. They attempted an attack on her in a busy street and in broad daylight.”

“Is she all right? Was anyone hurt?”

“She is fine. No one got hurt. I put her in a taxi, she is on her way home. And don’t worry, the taxi is being followed and a team is in place at the apartment.”

“Good.” Victoria rang off.

*****

Victoria sat in her study and stared at the phone. She looked up at her assistant, Simone, who sat across from her, notebook on her crossed knee and pen poised.

“Call each Council member. This cannot be delayed any longer. I am convening the meeting this coming week.”

Simone nodded, scribbled a few notes, and left the study.

Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb, trying to focus on the task at hand.

I should have told her a long time ago.

*****

The Watcher reached his destination and took out his mobile phone. He hesitated to dial the number, but knew a report was expected. They didn’t pay him enough for this.

“Yes?” a voice answered.

“Sir, we were unsuccessful. The car was ready, everyone was in place, but we couldn’t grab her.”

“Yes?”

“Sir, Marco Santana—he interfered. We didn’t know he was following her. We could have taken him alone, but he had a full team of the Draaken as backup.”

The silence on the other side was more threatening than any words. A soft click told the Watcher that he’d been disconnected.

*****

“Hey girlfriend!” Sammy called when Keira entered the apartment and closed the door behind her with a grateful sigh.

“Hey! You’re finally up,” Keira said and threw her shopping bags on a chair. She kicked her shoes off and sat down on the couch next to Sammy. The other girl was still in her bright yellow PJs and wore a very grumpy scowl to go with her sleep-tussled curls.

“Yeah, could have done with a few more winks, but the bloody phone woke me up,” Sammy grumbled. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, I had some at Harrods.”

“Must have been a madhouse. You won’t catch me dead in that place on a Saturday.”

“I know, but I had to get a gift for tomorrow.”

“Find something?”

“A scarf and her favourite perfume,” Keira grimaced as she stretched her right leg out and inspected the graze on her knee.

“Ouch, what happened?” Sammy asked and leaned closer.

“Oh—nothing—this guy bumped into me outside the shop.”

“The bloody idiot. I hope you gave him a piece of your mind!”

Keira laughed at her friend. “No, Sammy, I didn’t. It was an accident and he very politely helped me up. He even offered to bring me home in his car.”

“You didn’t—”

“No, I took a taxi. I wouldn’t let some stranger know where I live!”

“Well, that depends. What did he look like?”

“Sammy!”

“What?” Sammy pretended to be insulted. “He may have done it on purpose, you know.”

“Now why the hell would he have done that?” Keira asked.

Sammy just shook her head and looked at her friend where she sat curled up on the couch. Keira’s green eyes sparkled with amusement and her long black hair fell to one side over her shoulder. Her soft cashmere sweater and short black skirt hugged her figure in all the right places.

“Never mind,” she gave a loud, exaggerated sigh. “You continue living on your special little planet. But you haven’t said, was he at least something to look at?”

Keira didn’t answer immediately. She thought and bit her lip. “It was so fast. He was quite tall, dark hair, blue eyes.”

“Tall, dark and handsome!” Sammy cried. “Please tell me you got his number?”

“Well, he gave me his card. I had it somewhere—”

Sammy groaned and rolled her eyes. “You are hopeless!”

“By the way, who called earlier?” Keira smiled and tried to change the subject. “It wasn’t my mother, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t your mother. It was a detective, thanks for reminding me.”

“Why would the police be calling here?” Keira frowned.

“Because they tracked us down from the club last night. They spoke to the owner and he gave them the guest list, since it was a private party. Some guy was attacked a block or two away and they’re following up, wanting to find out if we saw anything.”

Keira carefully folded her hands on her lap. “Really? What guy?” she asked, trying to sound casual and unconcerned.

“Just some guy. He’d apparently gate-crashed the party and was kicked out when someone realised he wasn’t on the guest list. He was found in an alley nearby. The detective said the man was very confused, kept on jabbering about being attacked, seeing monsters and stuff,” Sammy laughed. “If you ask me, he was high on something.”

“Yeah, that was probably it,” Keira tried to smile.

“Oh, and he also asked for your and Alison’s mobile numbers. He’ll probably call later and ask you the same things, when did you leave, did you see anything unusual, that kind of stuff. You don’t mind, do you?” Sammy asked.

“No, of course not, why would I mind? I didn’t see anything unusual,” Keira squeezed the words through her tight throat. An ice-cold film of sweat broke out on her upper lip.

“Well, I’ve got to finish packing. My flight leaves early tomorrow morning,” Sammy said and stood up.

“Let me know if you need help,” Keira offered, still clenching her hands together on her lap.

*****

Marco watched the apartment block from his car, parked across the street. He’d arrived a few minutes after Keira’s taxi and had checked in with his team members to make sure no one else had followed her home. Satisfied with their report, he took over the guard duty as his team left. The hunt for Daemon’s Watchers was on and they were needed elsewhere.

Chapter 7

A knock sounded at the front door at eleven in the morning, sharp. Keira opened it and smiled warmly. “Richard! What a nice surprise. How are you? Didn’t my mother say that your nephew—Michael, isn’t it—would fetch me?”

“Good morning Miss Keira, top of the morning to ye!” he greeted her with a cheery Irish brogue. “Och, Miss Keira, that laddie still has a lot to learn—a lot to learn. Been teaching him the ins and outs of it, been trying to get it done before I retire. But I cunna pass up the chance to come and collect my favourite lass.” He winked at Keira.

“Ain’t this pretty Sunday just the best for a family ‘do’?” the old man rambled on as they left the building and he led Keira to the black Bentley waiting at the curb.

They were soon heading north-east on the A12 towards her family’s estate near Colchester, as Richard filled Keira in on the Wilde Family news. She laughed at his comic description of her mother’s hysterics over the trampling of her croquet lawn by the party planners and smiled with affection when she heard that her father had locked himself in his study to get away from the chaos.

Richard and his wife, Mary, lived in a cottage on the estate and had been working for the Wilde Family since Keira was a young girl. Keira used to spend many hours in Mary’s warm kitchen with their fat ginger cat on her lap, listening to Mary telling stories of Ireland while the heavenly aroma of fresh-baked bread and rich stews filled the room. Richard and Mary didn’t have children, and Keira never asked why. It was a natural progression that their cottage became her second home.

Keira’s mother believed that little girls should play inside, with dolls and doll houses and tiny little tea sets, not outside in germs and mud where wild animals lurked. And Mary had always been a willing accomplice in hiding her from the unending stream of nannies who were appointed to raise her into a lady.