Reluctant Guardian (28 page)

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“She stuck me with those needles!” he yells into the quiet. His gaze moves around the room but he doesn't really seem to
see
anything. “I remember. She dug those... those things into my chest!” He rubs his hand over the sore wound.

“She's in on everything. She's... bad, Brecken.” I stand there, wondering what he'll do now. What will I do now? What can I do?

With a broken smile, he shakes his head and pats the cot beside him. “It doesn't matter. I don't really care anymore. Come here. Sit down.”

I don't want to sit down. I want to fight. Not with him, but fight my way out of here, and I want him to fight with me. I have to rescue my brother and find Raphael. The last thing I have time for is sitting and chatting.

I sit down anyway.

My arm tingles when he presses against me and all those feelings of anger and irritation vanish. Oh, how I wish I could hold his hand, run my fingers through his floppy bangs, and brush a kiss across his lips.

Our time is almost over. I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm sure Natty is in trouble for helping, and I've screwed things up royally. No one is coming to help. All is lost, and I bow my head in defeat.

The cell door clanks open. Andras and Lamia step into the room, startling us. They are followed by a couple of their hired thugs.

“Bring him to the bed,” Lamia commands. “And tie him tight. I want this to hurt.”

***

 

As soon as Brecken is laid on the bed, my heart sinks. He struggles in their grasp, kicking his legs, connecting with his fists here and there, but all to no avail. He can't and doesn't get free. It ends up taking four people to tie him down, and even then, it takes Lamia's thugs forever to make the knots hold tight.

I stay beside him, feeling each wave of fury, frustration, horror, and hopelessness that crashes through him. Who will do the dirty deed this time? Lamia? Andras? Jill
?

How can I stop it? I wasn't able to help Nichole, and now she lies dead, drained, and alone. For eternity. Not even her soul will find peace now.

That
can't
be how Brecken is meant to die.

If Raphael saw this in his crystal ball, why didn't he warn me? This isn't some random drunk driving accident or even a suicide. This is hellfire and damnation spewed up from the depths of the earth. Demons come alive. Every horror movie made real.

“Brecken! Tell me what to do,” I whisper urgently. “Tell me how to help you. It can't end this way!”

He turns his head on the crimson satin pillow, his hair filling with static. In any other situation, I would laugh out loud, but the hilarity of the moment forms a thick ball of tar in my stomach instead. He lies there panting, bare-chested because they ripped open his shirt. A sheen of sweat beads his brow.

“Spirit!” Andras bellows.

I jump and turn to see him looking in my direction. Can he see me? Has something changed? Can Lamia see me as well? I feel exposed all of a sudden, vulnerable. His eyes scan the stage. He searches for me.

“Bretariel should have told you the truth from the beginning, spirit. But as we can all see, he chooses not to remember.”

This man is powerful. More powerful that Lamia. I don't understand how the hierarchy works, but somehow, he is the one to be afraid of. He is the one who can destroy me.

“I don't know what you're talking about!” Brecken yells, raising his head from the satin pillow.

I lean over Brecken, my lips brushing his. That's when I realize he's not being completely truthful. I feel it as our lips touch. Something inside him knows the power of these beings. Something in him has begun to remember.

“Don't worry,” I whisper. “It will be over fast and then we'll be together, just like we wanted.” I don't know what else to say as I gaze into his beautiful face, his terror-filled eyes.

“You have no idea who you're dealing with, Bretariel,” Lamia says. “But you will. You will!”

“Go, Alisa,” Brecken begs, his eyes filled with such remorse that I can do nothing but break inside for him. “I don't want you to see this. It's going to be bad, whatever they do. I know it. Go back to heaven and I'll find you when I can.” His anguish reaches out and wraps around my heart, but I can't leave him.

No matter the danger or outcome, I will stay by his side. I shake my head and stroke his face. “I'm not going anywhere.”

He gives me a tragic smile, his gaze never leaving mine. “Everything has finally caught up with me. I'm sure I'm getting what I deserve, but I don't want you to watch me die. Please,” he begs.

Returning his tender gaze, I know I will never know anyone like him again, and in that moment, I vow to do all I can to free him. To give him a chance. To give
us
a chance. No matter how impossible that seems.

I turn to Lamia, who slowly makes her way up the stage steps, fury ravaging her fiercely beautiful face. Her confidence astounds me, like a dark queen, sure of success.

I close my eyes, a prayer in my heart for a single miracle—the ability to stop this horrific tragedy from happening. A tingle begins in my fingertips and moves up my arms, like tiny diamonds of light twinkling from the depths of my soul. Energy gravitates toward me, like the bending of light, tightening, expanding, entering my soul.

In that moment, I realize Raphael is right. I
am
strong. I
can
prevail, but only if I truly believe it. Only if I make it so.

I open my eyes.

Lamia stops, her mouth hanging slack for a millisecond. “I
see
you,” she hisses, raising her hands like claws.

“Your nails will do nothing to me, demon,” I say, recognizing the darkness within her. The soul that inhabits her body does not belong in there and is not its original owner. Where is the true spirit of the woman who stands before me? It doesn't matter now. She let this happen to herself. She allowed evil in. I know it as surely as if I watched it on a movie screen.

“I know you, Lamia, demon vampire, Queen of lies and deceit.” I stare her down, no longer afraid. She can't defeat me. She can't obliterate me. Lesser spirit, my butt.

“You have no authority here, guardian,” she says, waving her hands in some sort of incantation. “Be gone!”

I can't help it. I bust out laughing. She's so dramatic. And even though I know she can't hurt me, I'm not sure how to stop her from hurting my brother or Brecken.

Their fates seem sealed.

But isn't this why I'm here? My job can't be over yet. No matter what Raphael says. I am a guardian, but I need someone with the power and authority to cast the angels of Hell back to where they belong, past the fiery pit of Soul Prison, into the eternal depths of unending darkness.

“You don't scare me, you vapid blood sucker. Let him go!” I point to Brecken, my eyes flashing hot. Then I hear it. Soft, like the chant of a child. It grows in volume. Undecipherable words, in some unearthly language.

Whirling, spinning, and gurgling away, the power and vitality I felt only a moment before melts into nothing—drained as though some thoughtless moron pulled the plug in the bathtub.

I turn in slow motion and catch Brecken's eye.

“Alisa!” he cries.

I blink, falling to the ground in a heap. The Earth rushes up to meet me and my face slaps against the cold tiles next to Brecken's deathbed.

 

~Helplessly Helpless~

Alisa

 

“Your guardian cannot help you,” Lamia says, her teeth grinding. “How pathetic—lesser spirit that she is—she'll never get out.” Her laughter wafts up like bells gone bad.

I claw back to a sitting position as Lamia bends over Brecken, her arms on either side of his head.

Brecken's response is to spit in her face. I am so proud. She screeches like a banshee, and rakes her nails down his cheek, leaving four straight seeping lines of red.

Lamia turns to the crowd in the auditorium, her lips pulled back into a snarl. “My children,” her voice, a growl. “We have a special guest tonight. It will require a special ritual. One you have never seen before and never will again.”

She steps down from the stage and moves slowly up the aisle, caressing faces and bestowing smiles. “In fact, you will all have the chance to taste immortality tonight.” In a brilliant show of light, she spins, her red cape whirling out like fire, her golden hair, a veil of reflected candlelight. “Behold, Bretariel of the Irin, the great Undoer!”

She holds her arms out toward Brecken as though showing off a fine piece of art. A cheer erupts through the crowd and a hundred hands begin to clap rhythmically, chanting the name
Bretariel, Bretariel, Bretariel
.

I'm so glad my brother isn't participating. He's still down the hall, locked in a cold, dark cell. Although, he might be the next dish served. Grasping Brecken's hand tighter, I squeeze, hoping he can somehow glean courage from me.

When the noise dies down, Lamia continues. “He brings with him his protector. A guardian of the weakest form.”

The cheers ring loud.

“Tonight, not only will one of the greatest of fallen angels be sacrificed on the altar of perdition—his damned soul extinguished into nevermore—but his guardian will also be erased from time and existence!”

They're talking about me! But after all I've been through, I'm not about to be erased from time and existence that easily. Without thinking—which is how I do most everything—I raise my hand, palm out, and shove, as though pushing an invisible shot-put.

Whatever force I possess, I throw toward Lamia. She stumbles forward, her red stilettos tangling in her long, silken robes. An acolyte on the isle catches her as she falls.

She turns in deadly silence and locks eyes with Brecken. Not a breath is heard in the whole room. “You'll pay for that,” she whispers venomously. “Call off your watch dog, Bretariel, or—”

“Or what?” he spits. “You'll kill me?”

“Oh, I'll do more than kill you,” she says, prowling toward the bed where he lies. “I'll rip your soul from your body bit by bit while you live, like you once tried to do to me!”

Brecken chuckles grimly, pulling on his bindings. “That would be a good memory to have back.”

With a howl of rage, she springs for him, flying over the edge of the bed on top of him. Her hands grasp his wrists, and her legs wrap around his. When she smiles, it is with the sharp ivory fangs of a monster. Hers are not silver, detachable, or handmade. They are the real thing, the roots embedded deeply into the bones of her face.

I shrink back in horror, suddenly wanting to hide. Before I can move, she sinks her teeth into Brecken's neck. His back arches and his cry rips through the auditorium. Never have I heard anything so feral, so heartrending.

I spring for Lamia, my arms wrapping around her waist as I sail past. Surprisingly, I do not slip through her like a ghost without form, but like a boomerang, yanking her away from Brecken.

With a wild shriek, she grabs at the air.

“Brecken!” I fight my way toward him, hoping Lamia can't grab me as I grabbed her.

“Andras! Stop her!” Lamia screams.

Instead of trying to stop me, Andras, places a white towel against Brecken's wound. “If you want this done right, Lamia, it must be performed according to ceremony. Unless you only want to kill his body?” he asks, gesturing to Brecken, who lies grimacing and groaning in pain.

Lamia wipes Brecken's blood from her mouth. “Fine. Get the book.”

 

~The Big Black Book of Death~

Alisa

 

One of the acolytes brings a large black and gold book forward. Its gilded edges and vellum pages, musty with age. Lamia takes the book, hefting it to a nearby stand, and opens the weighty cover. It falls back with a heavy metallic slap.

She sifts through the pages slowly, searching for something. I move to her side to see, careful to keep some distance, but close enough to view the devilish pictures and undecipherable words.

Finally she stops, her fingers tracing the words of an unintelligible language written in crimson. Horrifying caricatures of demons and wailing humans decorate the page. Lamia turns, her eyes wide and bright with arousal. She motions for Jill. “Come!”

Jill rises from her seat and walks regally up the steps. At the foot of the bed, she stops and waits, a mixture of excitement and apprehension etched on her butt-ugly face. At least, that's my opinion.

Lamia smiles and motions to Brecken. “Insert your teeth.”

Jill doesn't look quite as confident as she did a few moments ago, but she nods, takes a box from her pocket, and inserts her silver fangs. She glances over at Brecken, but hurries to look away.

“As soon as I start reading, you drink. Stop when I tell you,” Lamia commands, her voice hard and grinding behind her pearly white fangs.

Jill nods and climbs onto the bed next to Brecken. He watches her, her betrayal burning in his eyes.

“I loved you,” he whispers. “I trusted you.”

The ache in my chest—when I hear those words—blossoms anew, and I have to look away. How could he have ever given his heart to her?

Jill won't look him in the eye. “I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to end like this.”

Brecken turns away, the thick muscles in his neck stretching taut. I can see the pulsing vein beneath his skin, alive, vital. Jill stares at it too. She leans forward and grabs his wrists, then glances again toward Lamia, waiting for the command to begin.

Lamia commences to read. The words, in a strange tongue, are guttural and harsh and draw goose bumps. Her tone—hate-filled as it is—conducts power throughout the room. Dark demons rise up from their hiding places, moaning and tearing at their ghastly faces.
Candles flicker and
Jill bends down, her mouth opening.

With a scream, I thrust all the power inside me toward her, just as I'd done to Lamia, only this time, it has no affect. Because she's human? I'm not sure. Stunned, I nearly fall to my knees. But refusing to give up, I try again, but Jill remains unfazed. Her lips spread wide as she clamps her mouth on Brecken's neck, her silver fangs sinking deep into his skin.