Reluctant Guardian (24 page)

“Then
I'll
tell him.” I storm over to the corner and scream, “Get out of here! As Brecken's heavenly guardian, I order you to leave!” I point to the front door and wait in silence. “Well? Did he go?”

“He's looking at me funny. I don't think he can... hey, wait! He's gone! He just disappeared. Alisa! You did it. Do you know what this means?”

“Uh, no. What does it mean?” I ask, suddenly exhausted.

He hurries over to me, his face glowing with happiness. “It means he has to obey you! You told him to go and he did! You really are my guardian angel.” His eyes soften as his arms reach out. I can sense the gentle tingle of his hands trying to hold me.

I step forward to make it easier for him.

“Thank you, Alisa.” He gazes into my eyes, and it feels like sunshine. I can actually perceive my spirit heating up.

I reach out and place my hand on his cheek, slowly running my thumb over the corner of his bottom lip, imagining what it would feel like if I had a physical body. I lean forward, closing my eyes, yearning to experience more of him than just this glimmer of scintillating shadow.

Our lips meet, our souls meld... but it still isn't enough.

 

~Stupid Ex. Always in the Way~

Alisa

 

With closed eyes, we pull apart. The phone begins ringing and rings twice more before Brecken moves away.

“Uh, sorry.” He reaches over to the coffee table and picks up the phone, answering the call.

“Hello?” His brows crease and his hand moves over his face and back through his hair. “No. I don't.”

I scoot closer and lean in to hear the voice coming through.

“We can't find her. She left just after you did,” a male voice says.

“Really?” Brecken answers. “She was sitting on the back porch when I left.”

“She looked upset when I saw her,” the voice says, “and then she jumped up and ran out the door with her car keys. She's not with you?”

“No sir, she isn't. I'm sorry.”

“Could you help us search for her? Please? I'm really worried.”

Brecken glances at me, his face drawn and tired. “Of course. I'll be over as soon as I can.” He hangs up and sits down on the couch. “Jill's missing. Probably hiding on purpose so I'll go look for her. She's done this before.”

“Then why get sucked into it?” It's so obvious he should let her go. Cut those ties once and for all. She's using him, trying to get him to rescue her, worry about her, want her. I shake my head in frustration. Will he ever be free of Jill's manipulating antics?

“Well, let's go,” he says.

Rather than argue, I nod. But this will be the last time I let him get sucked into Jill's deep pit of subterfuge. “Fine, but if we can't find her, we're coming right back.”

He looks at me, a strange grin on his face. “I know how we can find her.”

“How?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Can't you find her? Like you do with me or your family?” His eyebrows raise and he nods.

Ack. I have zero desire to look for her, let alone be her rescuer. qerever she is. With an exasperated sigh, I say, “Fine. I'll see where she is. Then you can call her dad and tell him. That was her dad on the phone, right?”

He nods.

“Okay.” Closing my eyes, I picture her face, her ugly, penetrating blue eyes, her maddeningly perfect platinum hair, her horrid, perfect body. Within seconds, I appear beside her in the basement of the old abandoned house.

I made it inside? Figures.

There are only two people in that chillingly familiar basement room.

Jill and the Lady in Red.

Let me correct that. Jill, the Lady in Red, and their two evil, gray spirit beings who swirl around their naked feet like a thick, black mist.

At first, their conversation continues in quiet, hurried tones, but then the Lady in Red stills, and lifts her head, inhaling deeply, her brows crease as she slowly searches the room.

“Gamigin, who is here with us?” she asks, the sharp edge of her voice grating against my soul like abrasive sandpaper.

Chills tingle through me. Her words have a power I don't understand. Like silken chains, I feel bound being near her. Who is this woman?

“A girl,” the demon says in a raspy whisper. “A lesser spirit guardian.”

“Lesser?” I repeat. “I'm not lesser. If anyone here is lesser—”

“Silence!” the Lady in Red exclaims, standing. “I hear your insolent voice!”

I stop cold, automatically shrinking into a corner.

“Come to me, lesser spirit guardian,” she commands. “Tell me who you are.”

Fear wraps its icy fingers around my chest and squeezes. I don't want to step forward, don't want to confront this powerful woman who can sense me
and
hear me. I'm no match for her, I know. I have a feeling she can crush me into a million little pieces.

Closing my eyes, I will my soul to reappear beside Brecken. No way am I going to stay here, but strangely, nothing happens. I'm still in the room with Jill and the Wicked Witch of the West. Trapped.

“You cannot leave until I say,” the woman says with a sinister smile. “This is
my
domain. What are you called?”

As though I have no control over my mouth, I hear myself answer. “Alisa.”

“Ah,” she says, standing. “I am Lamia. Gamigin, who does this powerless spirit protect? Someone important, I hope?” Lamia walks toward me with the practiced gait of a supermodel.

Gamigin floats through the air until he reaches me. He slithers around my feet, slowly making his way upward until his face is before mine.

I stand immobile, stunned that I am so easily overpowered and intimidated.

“Ah, yes,” he hisses with glee. “She guards Bretariel, The Undoer.”

“Come closer, girl,” Lamia commands.

All this time, Jill has remained silent. Until now. “You!” she screams, standing, looking in the wrong direction. “You're the one he's been talking to!”

I glance at Jill, and then back to Lamia, then back to Jill. I know
she
can't hear me so it is pointless to answer.

“He thinks he loves you,” Jill sneers. “He wants to be with you. His ghost-lover. Forever.” With a menacing laugh, she continues. “I can certainly make that happen now.”

“Hush, Jill,” Lamia says gently. “I will do the talking.” Lamia moves to stand before me. “Thank you, Gamigin.”

The demon unwinds itself, and floats back to Lamia and begins swirling about her feet like a slow-moving hurricane. He winks at me and his mouth twists into a heinous grin.

“Unfortunately, I cannot destroy you, Alisa, lesser guardian of the Undoer,” Lamia says. “But I can make sure you stay out of my way.”

“Oh? And how will you do that? You can't control me or order me to obey like that ignorant little... whatever it is.” I point at her minion.

“Enough!” she yells. Pacing over to the stairs, she turns, and then paces back. Suddenly she stops, a slow smile forming on her ruby-red lips. An evil glint sparkles in her eyes. “I've changed my mind. You may go, guardian.”

That's it? She isn't going to threaten me more? Scare me into submission? Torture me with lies and revelations? Fine. I'm out of here. Within seconds, I leave the abandoned house with nothing hindering my departure. I shimmer into view before Brecken two seconds later.

“What took you so long?!” He's frantic. Worried about little ole me? “Did you find her?”

The concern on his face, and the frustration in his voice, prick my soul. I want to reach over and smack his face. Unless, of course, it really is concern for me, and not Jill. Then I'll pull him to me, and tuck him in my pocket to keep him safe.

“I missed you too,” I tease. “And yes, I found her. But you're not going to like what I have to say.

He waits, his brows raised in anticipation. “Well?”

“She's at an abandoned house with a lady named Lamia. I don't know who she is, but she has her own shadow man that she commands. She's super creepy and kept me from leaving.” I shiver, remembering the experience.

“Then how did you get away?”

“She let me go.”

He watches me, his brows knit in confusion, his head cocked to the side. “The lady made it so you couldn't leave, and then the next minute let you go? Just like that?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

Something isn't right. It's my turn to be confused. “I don't know. I don't get it either.”

He turns away, shaking his head and pacing the room, his hands stuffed deep into his jean pockets. “She's real. And all this time I thought she was a dream.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

He looks reluctantly into my eyes, and then sighs with exhaustion. “It started when I was five.”

 

~The Woman in Red~

Alisa

 

Brecken explains the strange night-visions that began as a child, where a beautiful woman in red came into his room, appearing from nowhere. She would stand by his bed, glaring down at him, never saying a word. He would hide under the covers, shivering, afraid.

Chills cover his arms as he relates his terror.

I can't come up with a single explanation to these awful visitations, but I know when he describes her, that it
is
Lamia. The woman in red.

“Well, at least we know,” I say, tapping my chin and thinking. “But what is Jill doing with her?”

“Maybe she's bewitched, or deceived somehow. Maybe I should go find her. She needs to be told, or helped, or something!” Brecken jumps up and grabs his keys.

“Brecken, no! She's there of her own accord. Not because she was forced.”

“Why do you judge Jill so harshly?” He says. “I know it's hard, knowing she was my girlfriend and everything, but—”

“Are you accusing me of being jealous? Seriously?” It could not be farther from the truth! I am certainly not jealous of Jill. She doesn't have one quality, not one redeeming attribute, I want. None. “Oh, that's rich.”

Brecken's eyes narrow with hurt. “You just don't get it.”

I have no idea what he is talking about. “No. I guess I don't.”

“Just because you don't like her doesn't mean I don't.”

That is a stab through my heart.

“I've been with her for a year and I love her. I know she's not good for me, and that we need to break up, but I'm not going to bash her, ruin her reputation, or criticize her. Got that?” He stands there, breathing hard, his stare turning into a frown.

“Oh, I get it just fine,” I say, my hands on my hips. “You can't decide what you want. You can't have me in the flesh so you want to leave your options open. You want it both ways!”

He does not deny it and that cuts deep. I want him to lash out at her, hurt her, like she's done to him. He holds no malice toward her, and I don't understand it.

He takes a step back. Hurt and betrayal etched on his face. “You just
have
to ruin everything. How about you fix your own problems, and stop worrying about mine for a while. You're more screwed up than I am.” He grabs his jacket and storms out the door.

 

~Forgiveness, a Dish Served Reluctantly~

Alisa

 

I watch him drive away, knowing he's right. I do ruin everything. If something is going great for me, I have to sabotage it somehow. It is a cycle I am very familiar with, but I don't know how to make it stop. It's almost as though I'm not happy unless I'm miserable.

That sounds pretty dysfunctional, and I don't want to be that way anymore. It will always keep coming back to Mr. Roland. I am letting the abuse continue—in my heart, in my mind, in my actions. I'm letting him ruin my life,
and
my death. I am letting him taint my thoughts, my hopes, and my dreams. Even still.

It has to stop.

Now.

And only I can stop it.

Is Gram right? Do I actually have to forgive the devil incarnate to heal? Do I have to let it go? Let go of the pain, the hate, and the shame—to make him go away? Is that even possible? Honestly, I'm not sure.

There is only one way to find out.

***

It's just like I remember. Dark. Cold. Petrifying. And I am alone. I stand at the gates of hell, the writhing, tormented souls waiting for me in the distance.

I force myself onto the path, force myself to move forward. I watch the ground, not wanting to make a wrong step. I remember how the black grass felt before.

I'm not sure where to find Mr. Roland because he'd found me the last time, but maybe all I have to do is think of him, focus on him, and I will find him... or he'll find me. The thought sends shivers through my soul, and my mind races in fear. I don't want to see him. Ever. But that is why I am here. To face my fears head on. The crushing weight of anticipation grounds me to fine powder, and threatens to shatter my hope into a million pieces. Will I ever be whole again?

I picture his face. The ugliness of his wicked grin, the roughness of his hands. And then... his eyes. Black holes that sucked my life from me little by little, with no feeling, no mercy. He never cared about Natty or me. I am sure he still doesn't. If he is sorry at all, it is because he got caught.

On and on I walk, deeper into the bowls of perdition, deeper into the darkness, the despair. If I had lungs, I would be gasping for breath. If I could sweat, I would be soaked.

And on I walk.

Pitch blackness coats me, so dark I can't see my hands. I'm afraid to go further. What if I get lost? Would anyone save me? Would anyone care?

I stand on that path, in the dark, surrounded by evil, more terrified than I've ever been before. A foul breeze blows, that eerie, sticky substance accumulating on me like before, pulling me down, weariness draining my energy.

“Mr. Roland!” I scream at the top of my voice. All the anguish, all the hopelessness, all the desperation I feel toward him bursts from my mouth with his name. “Mr. Roland. Come here right now!” I wait, my chest heaving, my heart aching, my mind slowly freezing with impotence.