Guardian's Joy #3 (10 page)

His pause gave the slow witted ad Doren time
to process the message. As the fool’s eyes widened, Salvador went
in for the final blow. “Maybe we shouldn’t sacrifice another young
Paenitentia in the first bloom of womanhood.” The hopeful look on
ad Doren’s face was priceless. “Maybe that ice bitch you’ve been
fucking would make a better one. How much is her life worth? She’s
the reason you joined us in the first place, isn’t it? You wanted
to be powerful enough to attract her attention and we made that
happen. Now you want to destroy that House of Guardians she’s so
obsessed with. You promised her that as a betrothal gift. Don’t
look so shocked. We do our homework.” He leaned across the desk and
smiled. “I’ll tell you what. Since you no longer provide the
facilities for our experiments, you’ll be in charge of providing
the sacrifices as well as the subjects. So who will it be?”

Chapter 11

When consciousness finally returned, JJ
thought she was feeling better until she opened her eyes to the
strangest hallucination. She knew she wasn’t better at all and she
felt a moment’s panic. Three women stood at the foot of her bed.
The little yellow cat sat purring at her feet.

“It’s all right,” said the first who was
wearing a blue bib apron with embroidered ruffles up the sides of
the bib. “There’s nothing to be frightened of. We won’t hurt
you.”

Frightened that she was hallucinating, sure.
Of the three apparitions? Not hardly. How could she be afraid
of…

“She thinks you’re Betty Crocker and Manon is
Sophia Loren,” the tall one giggled. “Do I look like Julie
Andrews?”

“She’s sicker than we thought if she thinks
you look like Julie Andrews,” Betty Crocker laughed.

“Actually, she wasn’t thinking Julie Andrews
so much as Mary Poppins. It’s the same thing though, isn’t it?”

Sophia Loren laughed at that one. “Now do you
see why those outfits you wear are no good? They make you look like
some nineteenth century governess.” Sophia spoke with a French
accent instead of Italian and she had white hair.

JJ moved her eyes as much as she could
without pain. She was lying in some sort of hospital room from the
1950s; white hospital bed, white metal cabinet, white framed
screens with white fabric curtains gathered top and bottom. Two
vaguely familiar blonde orderlies stood behind the women.

“Who the fuck are you?” JJ muttered
angrily.

One of the orderlies’ eyes widened and he
looked at Mary Poppins. “Aren’t you going to say something?” he
asked indignantly.

Mary shook her head. “She’s sick.”

“What the fuck’s going on here?” JJ asked.
Her words slurred. How stupid was that, anyway? Talking to
hallucinations. Her eyes were getting heavy again.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” the
indignant orderly answered. “Gender bias, sexual discrimination in
the workplace, that’s what’s going on. She wouldn’t let me use that
word.”

“Just ignore him. He’s been watching the
women’s channel again.” The other orderly punched the first in the
shoulder. The cat raised her paw and hissed at them.

“Boys!” Betty scolded. “She’s not fully
awake. Her system’s still poisoned.” She moved to the side of the
bed and looked into JJ’s half closed eyes. She stroked JJ’s
forehead with gentle fingers that felt very real. “You go back to
sleep now, sweetie. We’ll explain it all the next time you wake
up.”

JJ struggled against the order, but it did no
good. Her eyes closed.

When she opened her eyes again, the only
person she saw was the guy from the rave, watching her silently
from a folding chair pulled up next to her shoulder. She reached
out and touched him, to assure herself he wasn’t another
hallucination. She wasn’t startled to find him there. Her dreams
had been so filled with him it seemed only natural that he should
be here in the flesh and unlike the others, he was real. Her eyes
shifted to her surroundings.

She was a little alarmed to find herself
still on the narrow hospital bed rather than her sofa, yet her
familiar and comforting afghan was tucked around her. The ceiling
soared above, much higher than the one at her house and the area
around the bed, a cot really, was curtained off from the rest of
the room. The cast still immobilized her right wrist, though her
left hand was free of bandages and the stitches were gone. Puffy
pink skin around a darker pink scar proved the cut was real, not
imagined, which led her to believe much of what she’d dreamed was
actually real.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and
suddenly a straw was thrust between them and her eyes closed in
relief as cool crisp water flowed into her mouth. She took several
short sips before pushing the straw away with her tongue.

“Explain,” she whispered, her voice raspy
with disuse.

“You remember me, Joy?”

Oh boy, do I
, but she only nodded.

“My name is Bernardo ad Tormeo, but everyone
calls me Nardo,” he explained, glad to see that this time, open
eyes meant she was awake. “The twins who were with me at the rave
brought you home. They found you collapsed on your living room
floor. Infection, fever, slight concussion, dehydration, they
knocked you for a loop. The women have been taking care of you.
Grace cleared out the infection and your fever’s gone. I was
keeping watch. I didn’t want you to wake up and be afraid.”

“Thank you,” she said after clearing her
throat, “but I’m not afraid of anything and I could have taken care
of myself.”

“Which is why you were passed out on the
floor of your living room, I suppose.” He was smiling.

JJ closed her eyes, trying to remember and
frowned when she couldn’t. “How long?” she asked.

“Three days here. Nine days from your
injury,” he answered.

It was unsettling to have lost more days from
her life, to know that she had been vulnerable to who knew what.
Unnerved, she tried to sit up, fought the sudden dizziness and felt
his arm around her, supporting her and lifting her slowly. His arms
were strong and comforting and she wanted to rest her head against
his shoulder, but she couldn’t. Weakness was something she couldn’t
allow and dreams were far different than reality.

“Don’t,” she said and pushed against the
shoulder she wanted so badly to lean on. “I don’t need help.”

He didn’t let go. “Shh,” he whispered, “Don’t
be stubborn and don’t try to tell me you don’t need help when I can
see for myself you do. I’ll hold you until you’re ready.”

Determined, she swung her legs over the side
and fought another bout of dizziness when she tried to stand. She
gritted her teeth as Nardo laughed when, against her will, she
clung to his arms to steady herself. One step and then another and
then her knees buckled and she was again in his arms; one arm
around her shoulders and the other behind her knees. He held her
close to his chest, as easily as if she were a child. But she
wasn’t a child…

Nardo felt her stiffen and her eyes widen
with fear. So much for the woman who wasn’t afraid of anything.

“Shh,” he whispered again, “I won’t let you
go.” He carried her around the fabric screens and into the large
family space. “Sofa or chair? Chair, I think, at least for a little
while. Get your body used to being upright again.” He settled her
into an oversized, overstuffed chair. “Don’t move. I’ll be right
back.”

She couldn’t breathe. Some unknown terror
pervaded her lungs and refused to let them expand. JJ gripped the
arms of the chair, her nails digging into the rough fabric. The
constriction released and she gulped air like a drowning woman
suddenly breaking the water’s surface.

Her mouth snapped shut at the sound of
movement behind her and she turned away in pretended interest in
the room around her. She barely had time to take in the rest of the
high ceiling, the huge flat screen television with every electronic
attachment known to man, and the regulation sized pool table before
Nardo was there with her afghan to tuck around her legs. It was
while he tucked her in that she realized what she was wearing and
it was a far cry from the sweat pants and tee she usually wore to
bed. She plucked at the white flannel.

“Where did this come from?” It looked like
something out of
Gone With the Wind
, though she was grateful
for it. It covered a great many flaws. But why should that
matter?

Nardo tried to cover his laugh at the look
she gave the billowing gown. “The nun’s wear? That’s courtesy of
Hope. She’s not a nun, though. She’s Nico’s mate. It’s not much of
a fashion statement, but it’s warm and easy to get on and off.”

She looked at him in alarm and this time he
laughed outright. “Don’t worry; Grace and Manon took care of all
your personal stuff. You don’t remember?” he asked and when she
shook her head, he laughed again and raised his right eyebrow.
“See, that’s the proof of it right there. If I had taken that gown
off, you’d definitely remember it.”

“Right,” she said. She didn’t smile.

“Damn right,” he said and nodded his head for
emphasis. “I’ll go get something for you to eat.”

She waved her hand. “I don’t want anything…”
she started.

“It’s not about what you want. It’s about
what you need. You’re weak and you’re skinny as a rail. We need to
feed you up.”

So much for the great white cover up. JJ
changed the subject away from food and weight.

“What is this place?”

Nardo pointed an admonishing finger at her.
“Don’t try to change the subject. We’ll talk when I get back with
the food.” He shook the finger. “And you will eat it.”

He left her sitting there alone in the
cavernous room while he left through a heavy metal door that she
assumed led to the kitchen.

In addition to the items she’d already noted,
she saw a poker table over in one corner and a dart board set
against a cork background on the back wall. White curtained privacy
screens concealed the corner of the far wall where her makeshift
hospital room lay and at the opposite corner of the same far wall,
wide double doors opened to a long windowless corridor. The windows
in this room were high and shuttered, though the shutters were open
and allowed moonlight to stream in.

The furniture wasn’t new or well matched, but
looked well worn and, if her current seating was any indication,
comfortable. It certainly didn’t look like a den of vampires,
although the woman following Nardo through the door looked like she
could do some damage with the knife she was wielding like a sword.
JJ tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold.

“Sweetie, you cannot make her eat all of
that. It’ll make her sick.”

Sweetie? Did she just call him sweetie? It
was Betty Crocker again. This time without the apron.

“She needs to eat, Grace. She was slim
before, now she’s skin and bone. She can’t afford to lose any more
weight. You said so yourself.”

Nardo barreled forward with a loaded tray. He
set it down on the table beside JJ’s chair. The woman skidded to a
stop behind him. He almost knocked her over when he turned, but
instead picked her up and set her aside. He then continued on to
grab another chair which he carried over and placed squarely in
front of JJ.

The woman shook the knife threateningly.
“Listen, buddy, that’s twice you’ve done that. I let it go the
first time because…” She looked at JJ and suddenly broke into a
smile. “Okay, I get it, but don’t make a habit of it.” She looked
at the knife in her hand, flushed, switched the knife to her left
hand and hid it behind her back, holding out her right in
greeting.

“You must be Grace,” JJ said half to herself.
Apparently the three women weren’t figments of her imagination.
“You’ve been taking care of me. I saw you before. I thought…”

“I was Betty Crocker,” Grace laughed. “I
know. I’m going to be paying for that one. Glad Nardo cleared that
up.”

JJ ran her hand down the sleeve of the
nightgown. “Nardo said Grace and Hope had been caring for me and
this belonged to Hope and if it’s too long for me,” she said
diplomatically, “You’d be swimming in it. Therefore…”

“Yep. Hope is Mary Poppins. Uncle Otto’s
going to love you. He’s got a thing for smart women.”

JJ wanted to ask who this Uncle Otto was, but
she wasn’t staying so it didn’t matter. “I really appreciate you
helping me out, but now that I’m okay, I really want to…”

“Eat some food before it goes cold. Then you
can go upstairs to sleep in a real bed,” Nardo interrupted.

“You’re awfully bossy,” JJ snapped.

“And you’re awfully stubborn,” Nardo laughed
back, “Look at you. You’re weak as a kitten. You need another week
and that’s a minimum.” He picked up the bowl of soup and loaded the
spoon.

“He’s right, Joy. You were in bad shape. If
the boys hadn’t found you when they did, well, you wouldn’t be
arguing with anyone today. You were scratched when the demon came
over the wall. It wasn’t long or deep and in all the excitement,
you probably didn’t notice it at the time, what with all the other
injuries. We know you know about demons, but do you know about the
poison they carry? It festers and the infection can kill you.
Normal antibiotics don’t work. You were lucky it was a claw and not
a bite. That's worse, much worse.”

“I didn’t know, but I…” A spoon was in her
mouth and the soup was down her throat before she could protest and
it was so-o-o good. It had barely hit bottom before her stomach was
growling for more.

After the second spoonful, she had the
presence of mind to say, “I can feed myself, thank you.”

“You’re right handed. You try to eat soup
with your left, you’ll make a mess of that pretty white gown. Sit
back, relax, and let me do it.” Nardo held another spoonful
out.

Grace shook her head, laughing. “When it
comes to these guys, my only advice is to choose your battles.” A
steady beep sounded from the kitchen. “Oh shit, I’ve got focaccia
in the oven. I’ll talk to you later.” She took off at a run.