Reluctant Guardian (18 page)

I stop on the stairs, wary, yet wanting to get this over with. As I move down, I hear voices, muffled by a closed door at the bottom of the stairs. Automatically I tiptoe, trying to be quiet even though no one can hear me.

Stepping through the closed door, my eyes grow wide, and I'm ready to bolt. A large group of people sit on the floor on blankets and throw pillows. Candles glow around the perimeter of the room, creating deep shadows. The tang of lamp oil as well as sweet perfumes drift toward me.

Someone must have drawn me here, so I search each face, each expression, recognizing no one until I came to the dark, heavily lashed eyes that matched my own, as if he were my twin. Derek?

He reclines on a red velvet pillow, a brunette-haired girl beside him, stoking his cheek. A dark bottle dangles between his fingers, from which he takes a swig every few seconds.

My heart, figuratively speaking, flips at the sight of him, but that ache is quickly replaced by anger, per normal. I stomp straight toward him, my hands clenched and my teeth grinding. “Derek. What are you doing here?”

He doesn't answer and doesn't acknowledge that some invisible force is raining fire and brimstone down on him. He never used to drink. He spent most of his time at the school track, training for the cross-country team. He's always gotten good grades and is a straight A student. He has a girlfriend, but it isn't this floozy who has draped herself all over him.

Disappointed, I can't even think straight. “Get up!” I demand, standing behind him, and trying to lift him to a standing position. He doesn't budge. It's not until I turn around that I get my next heart-stopping shocker.

Jill.

She sits on the other side of the room, intertwined in the arms of some guy, her vampire fangs twinkling bright in the candlelight. Dread spreads through me, its dark claws pulling me down, down, down. Feelings, similar to the ones I felt in Soul Prison, wash through me, and I nearly sink to my knees in despair.

I didn't even realize we all lived in the same city.

I stare, rooted to the cement floor, as Jill leans forward and sinks her fangs into the bicep of the guy she lies beside. He moans as the needles penetrate his skin, then wraps his legs around Jill and rolls her over so he is on top. That's when I notice he sports his own set of shiny, new fangs.

He bites into her skin, just below the collarbone.

The hot, acidic memory of vomit rises in my mouth. The response is automatic. I turn, horrified, to Derek. He watches Jill, his eyes wide, but not with a disgusted grimace, like I have.

More terrified, yet fascinated.

I have to get him out of here, and I have to do it now. “Derek. Please listen to me. You have to leave. This is dangerous. People could really die. Don't you get it? What if one of those fangs punctures an artery?” That has to happen once in a while. They aren't always careful, are they? “Derek. Get up!” I scream at the top of my voice.

Nothing works. He can't hear me. He doesn't want to. I remember being told in
Idir Shaol
that guardians aren't able to influence everyone, that some people refuse to listen. People have to be open, their souls somewhat receptive.

Derek takes another swig from the bottle in his hand, then lies back and closes his eyes. I watch him, a smile flitting across his mouth. In sorrow, I turn away.

“Dude, wake up,” a boy sitting next to Derek says. “It's gonna start.”

“Huh?” Derek responds, sleepily.

A woman enters the room. Tall, regal, proud. She glides toward a table at the front of the room, her long black cape trailing behind, a cowl covering her head. She holds a tapered black candle in her slim fingers, and the only thing that shows of her shadowed face are her ruby-red lips, which glisten in the dim light.

All eyes turn to her. Including my own.

I watch her, riveted. Something about her captures me in a wonderful, yet terrible grip. Part of me wants to fall at her feet and beg for attention. Another part recoils with such revulsion that I desperately want to flee.

That is when I see it. A dark shadow clinging to her skirt like a cloudy sheath of silk. It slithers around her legs, its grasping hands holding onto her with parasitic strength. It glances up and catches my eye, the darkness of its gaze drowning me as though I've fallen into a deep, polluted cesspool.

I pull my gaze away, the awful smile of the shadow fiend still in my peripheral vision. Who
is
this woman? What is she doing here? And who is her sticky friend? The one thing I do know is that whoever she is, she's dangerous.

And evil.

“My children,” she says lovingly as she gazes at each member of the room. “It is right that you are here. I'm proud of you all. Especially our newest members.” She glances at Derek and smiles seductively.

My soul recoils just a bit more. The candles in the room flicker and the walls that surround us glow with dark heaviness. Grim foreboding drifts over me like tiny poison snowflakes, stinging my soul where they land. The longer I'm here, the worse I feel. I have to get out, but I can't leave my brother!

“When I first came here,” the woman says. “I worried we wouldn't find the numbers we required, but we have been rewarded by the diligence of our initiates in this city.” She smiles, grasping the edges of her cowl and sliding the hood back, letting it come to rest on her slender shoulders.

Long, white-blonde hair falls around her cheeks and her light blue eyes glisten with heat.

I can't look away, though I want to. She holds me spellbound just as she does the others in the room.

“Tonight we have two who graduate to the next level of ordination.”

She stretches her arm out to Jill, who steps forward. Jill kneels on a pillow at the woman's feet and bows her head. The woman takes Jill's hand.

“Rise,” she says to Jill. “This initiate has completed her requirements in the Order and will now become an Adept.” The woman reaches for a folded black cloth that lies on the table behind her. Holding it up, the cloth unfolds into a long, silky robe, identical to her red one. She places it over Jill's head and lets it fall around her shoulders.

With a slow sigh of satisfaction, the woman turns Jill to face the others. “Jill will complete her next assignment this coming week. Not only has she reached the level of Adept, but will also become the chief custodian of this chapter, being the first in this area to accomplish the tasks placed before her.”

Silence fills the room as everyone watches. My eyes burn, yet I can't take my gaze from her. Jill radiates confidence, her chin jutting out, her chest raised in pride. She searches the small congregation, catching each person's gaze and holding it.

That's when another ghostly being of wispy, gray smoke appears. It weaves a web around Jill's feet and gazes up at me with a smile that splits its faceless visage as it slithers up to her waist.

One by one, the people in the room rise and approach Jill to congratulate her, including my brother. He steps forward as a receiving line forms. When Derek arrives before her, Jill takes his hand, her fingers threading with his. “May the dark one grant your desires,” she whispers, her eyes riveted to Derek's.

He answers like everyone else has. “Likewise.”

I reach out one last time and place my hand on his arm. Derek's fear and uncertainty ooze into my mind, and something else... something that alarms me to my very core. He's angry. He wants to lash out, to hurt someone.

Me
.

I let go in surprise. This isn't my Derek. He's not vindictive or a grudge-holder. Doesn't he understand what I went through? Can't he forgive me? He can't pin his bad choices on me. His being here isn't my fault.

Anger, like I haven't felt in a long time, well, for at least a few hours, erupts inside me. How dare he use my death to justify his joining this... this satanic fraternity! I take one last look, and leave.

 

~Running Away, Again~

Alisa

 

I don't have anywhere to go, and I don't want to go all the way back to
Idir Shaol
. So instead of appearing in some strange place like Egypt—which is tempting—I decide to go back to Brecken.

The mere thought of being in his presence twists my mind into knots of anxiety. Our last moment together had been a kiss. He'd
kissed
me. And the ache that kiss creates in my heart... It all rushes back—the light, the heat, the wonderful magic.

And, heaven forbid, I want it to happen again.

Questions ramble around inside me. Why did he kiss me when he has a girlfriend? Does Raphael know? Will he send for me? Will I lose my post? It's not like I instigated it, but I didn't stop it either.

I like Brecken.
Really
like him. There is no way around it. I didn't plan this, but I don't want it to end yet either. Secretly, I wanted that kiss, and now I have to suffer the consequences. I have a job to do after all. This isn't just about life and death. This is about redemption and eternity... and a timeless existence in Soul Prison—surrounded by evil—if I don't succeed. And what will happen to Brecken? What is his destiny if I fail? I can't bear to think of it.

Brecken, when I find him, is in the process of grabbing his gym bag and running out the door. “Where're you going?” I ask as he runs past.

He stops abruptly and stares straight ahead. “Lacrosse practice.”

“You play lacrosse?”

He turns, facing the direction of my voice. Sunshine spills through the window, casting long shafts of light across his face. I'm pretty sure he can't see me, but he faces me square on, only a foot away. “I used to. There a problem with that?”

His angelic-ness vanishes and his tone rocks me back on my heels. The force of his anger is like a physical blow. “No. I just never pegged you for a lacrosse player.”

“Really? And just what sport
do
you think I'd play? Or am I such a loser that all I'd do is sit around like a pothead all day?” He smirks and walks out the door, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

“Uh, well.” I can't think of a single sport I think he'd play. Not that he isn't athletic. He just portrays himself as the bad boy in a
leave me alone
kind of way
.
He doesn't scream sports. I follow him to his mom's car. He pulls out of the driveway, the tires shrieking.

“Why are you driving so fast? Are you trying to kill us?” I hate it when people let their anger determine their driving. My brother does that.

Brecken doesn't answer.

I watch the road, one hand on the dashboard, afraid we'll crash. Not that I'd get hurt, but he would. “Why are you so mad?” I still haven't figured it out and can't seem to get past his porcupine bristle.

With an audible sigh, he glances my way and then back to the windshield. “It's just... you took off.
Again.
”

The look of hurt on his face and the guilt of my constant running is beginning to haunt me. “Oh. I'm really sorry about that.”

“Was it that bad?”

“What?”

His lips tighten and he shakes his head slowly back and forth. “The
kiss.”

“Oh, Brecken, no. That's not it at all. The kiss was... well, it was... just wonderful.” I turn away, embarrassed to admit my feelings, and watch the trees zip past in a blur. “There's just the whole thing about me being dead that kinda puts a crimp in it.”

“That's a minor detail,” he says, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah. Minor.”

“I thought maybe you were... disappointed.” He stares at the road stretching in a straight line ahead of us. “That seems to be what I do best lately.”

“What? No.” I place my hand on his arm. “Not even close. And why would you be worried about disappointing anyone? I haven't seen you do that since I've been here.”

“Oh really?” He glances toward me. “You've
never
been disappointed in me?”

I think back over our time together, the constant arguments, the constant frustration, the break-in, Jill. “Oh. Well, as your guardian, there are times when I'm disappointed, but then we work it out. You're totally not supposed to even know I'm here. It kind of messes everything up. It's much easier to influence people when they don't know you're around. As for the other stuff, well...”

He glances at me again, rolling his eyes. “Well what?”

“Never mind,” I say, suddenly shy. How can I discuss this? It's too new, too crazy.

We pull up next to a cemetery.

“What are we doing here?” I don't like cemeteries. I don't like dead bodies or the idea of people decaying under my feet.

“This is where we practice.”

“You have
got
to be kidding.” I follow him to a wide grassy area where no headstones have been placed yet. Fifteen other boys are there, tossing a lacrosse ball to one another. Some wear protective pads over t-shirts. Others wear their pads directly over their skin.

“We tear up the park's grass too much so we practice here half the time.” He proceeds to take off his shirt and put on his shoulder pads.

“I had no idea you were part of a team,” I say with an amazed chuckle.

“I'm not. I don't play in the games. I don't have the money for dues, new gear, or any other fees. We're too poor,” he says with a sneer. “But the team feels sorry for me, and I'm pathetic enough to still want to come once a week.”

The hardness in his eyes doesn't dispel the hurt in his voice. I hadn't realized how much he'd had to give up when his mom died. My heart breaks just a little bit more for him, but I can't stay in that aching place long. It brings up too many memories of my own. Instead I stare at his half-naked body, his muscles rippling as he fastens his gear.

Surprisingly, his body doesn't disgust me like before. I don't know what has changed or is different, but his bare skin doesn't elicit feelings of revulsion. I don't associate the tanned skin of his chest with Mr. Roland or feel the need to hide. Maybe I am healing. Maybe Gram is right after all.