Guardian
Book one of the Guardian Series
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by S.B. Rodgers at Smashwords
Copyright © 2011 by Sara & Becky Rodgers
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce in whole or in part in any form.
Summary: It’s been almost a year since Abby Shepard’s once-perfect life crumbled into little more than a nightmare. Dumped, bullied and abused, the seventeen-year-old has all but given up hope. Little does she know that her father died protecting a family secret; a secret that has the forces of good and evil battling to claim the power lurking just beneath her skin.
For Dad, Mom, Matthew & Katherine
Guardian
S.B. Rodgers
Chapter 1
The dimly lit, shabby apartment pulsated with a flash of vibrant orange light that stole the darkness for a fleeting second before plunging the rooms back into shadow that seemed just a bit colder than it had moments before. The light had come from the bedroom at the far end of the apartment.
Sparsely furnished as all the rooms were, the master bedroom hardly lived up to its name. The remains of an antiquated bed were strewn across the room, its wooden frame splintered into little more than matchsticks. Its mattress lay slumped against the wall, ripped open with stuffing and springs pouring forth like a waterfall.
The only other object in the room was a large gilded mirror; a sense of timelessness hung about it. Each golden rose on its tarnished border was chipped, the precious metal worn and flaking. It was topped with an intricate metal bust. A naked woman with long hair gripped a piece of fruit in her left hand while a large python wound its way across her shoulders and around her neck, seeming to squeeze gently—a deadly, silvery accessory with glinting ruby eyes.
A young man stood in front of the mirror, staring into it. The reflection he saw was not of himself with his curly dark brown hair and broad-shouldered, lean build, but that of a beautiful woman. Her cold green eyes sparkled with crazed fervour as she favored him with a small smile of welcome, her scarlet mouth lifting slightly at the corners.
“Raphael.” She nodded her head, spirals of dark red hair framing her attractive face. “What of the mission?”
Raph bowed deeply. “My lady.” The woman rolled her eyes, motioning with her hand for him to continue with his report. “The mission is going according to plan,” he continued, teeth glinting in a feral way in the near-darkness. “I can feel her spirit, my lady…” He spoke with confidence bordering on bravado, though something inside of him blanched at the words as they fell from his lips. “She’ll be mine in a matter of hours.”
The woman in the mirror’s smile widened unpleasantly. “Wonderful. I expect that you are up to the challenge?”
Raph smirked and inclined his head. “Consider it done,” He looked his mistress in the eye. “Milady Satan.”
Satan looked at her servant sharply and drew herself up to her full height, the top of her head at level with the bottom of his jaw, staring him down menacingly. “You know what to do. Should you fail, prepare to face the consequences… they will not be pleasant.” Raph winced, glancing away.
She took a step back, an orange light growing behind her as an ethereal wind whipped her hair and skirt around her body in all directions. Satan reached a hand out of the mirror, gripping Raph’s jaw between her fingers. She drew him downward, ignoring his small mewl of pain as she dug her fingernails, claw like, into his skin. She locked eyes with him, her face level with his. “Do not fail me.” As she said this, her flawlessly beautiful face transformed into something ugly and infinitely more sinister. Her voice, calm and sweet moments before, was now many layered and dripping with malice
The light flashed through the apartment once more, and Raph felt his mistress’ hand rip away from his face, leaving five deep gashes encircling his jaw. The mirror cleared, Satan disappearing along with the light. Only Raph’s image remained, staring back at him as hot blood oozed down his neck. He started suddenly as the pain hit him, and he clapped a hand to his jaw to staunch the flow of blood.
“Flimsy human body.” He growled from between clenched teeth. Still clasping his jaw he stormed out of the room, heading through the darkened apartment towards the kitchen. In Hell, what Satan had just done to him would have been little more than a love-tap. In Hell, though, there were lost souls everywhere, easy prey for a demon. Easy sources of energy. Here, on this damned mortal plane, he fumed, the best he could hope for was… His eyes roved the filthy kitchen, senses on the alert, searching for any sign of—there!
Raph darted forward and grabbed the rat, snatching it up in mid-scuttle. He held it up to his face, giving it a bloody grin. “Hello, little vermin.” The rat squirmed in his grip, terrified and flailing about, trying desperately to escape the demon’s clutches.
Unfortunately for the creature, Raph’s grip was iron, until the rat sunk its sharp teeth into his hand. The demon shrieked in pain, flinging his hand away from his body. The rat went flying, hitting the wall with a sickening thud and a smaller, barely audible crunching sound as its spinal cord severed, killing it instantly.
Inspecting his hand, Raph shook his head in disgust, a sound of disbelief rising in his throat. “Fan-freaking-tastic,” he muttered, annoyed. “Damn thing…” he said, nudging the dead rat with his toe. Still warm. Good. The demon knelt down, placing his hands over the prone body. He narrowed his eyes, looking around him again. The things were always harder to see on this plane of existence…He smirked, spotting it in the corner. “Gotcha.”
He pounced, grabbing up what seemed to be a smoky, nearly invisible form. Gripping the mist tightly in his fist, he straightened up, slammed his hand against the table, and brought both hands up to his mouth. Ignoring the blood that covered his jaw and neck he cupped his hands over his open mouth, trapping the mist. Gulping quickly as if he was chugging a liquid, Raph swallowed the rat’s soul.
He leaned back against the crumbling wood counter and wiped his arm across his mouth, panting slightly as his system went to work. He gripped the edge of the counter, digging his fingers into it and leaving deep marks as the pain hit. His jaw clenched and his eyes bulged as he fought not to cry out at the unexpected agony of his human flesh reconstructing at a rapid pace. He always forgot how bad it could be, the pain that came with regeneration, as if his mind had glossed over the worst of it. It never hurt like this in Hades, he thought, vision swimming as his jaw bubbled, the deep gouges filling out and the bite marks on his hand healing over in seconds.
Raph convulsed and collapsed to the floor, light-headed as the pain abruptly stopped. He lay there for a moment, breathing shallowly as he tried to regain composure. He raised a shaking hand to his jaw. All but two of the wounds had closed over, completely healed and covered in pale new skin. He stood slowly, leaning heavily against the counter.
He turned his head and his gaze fell on the rat carcass that lay at his feet. He stared at it for a moment and his eyes narrowed angrily. With an abrupt gesture of his arm the body burst into flame, crumbling and turning to ash as he watched, the firelight reflected in his dark eyes.
“Well,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “At least that always works.” He began to pick his way through the debris that littered the floor of the apartment, over to a window. Lifting the blinds, he blinked rapidly at the sudden rush of bright sunlight. He glanced up at the sun, gauging its position quickly—it was around 12:30, he decided. Dropping the blind again, he strode off towards the bathroom, carefully avoiding a large, messy pile of newspapers.
Raph pulled his bloodstained shirt over his head and threw it to the floor onto the ever-expanding pile of soiled clothing. He stepped into the shower and sighed as the water hit his skin, washing away the blood and dirt. “Time to end this.” He murmured. “Time to finish this thing with Abby.”
Yeah, like you could actually bring yourself to hurt her, a little voice in his head countered sarcastically. Raph quashed the voice as best he could as he reached for the shampoo bottle. There’s nothing between us, and there never was, he thought. We were always hunter and prey. “Nothing more,” he muttered fiercely, scrubbing roughly at his scalp as if to erase the thoughts swirling under the surface. “Nothing more at all.”
Chapter 2
“Hey, Aaaaabby!”
The tiny brunette flinched, startled back to reality. Heaving a deep sigh she snapped the fantasy novel shut, setting it on the cold ceramic tile next to her. She carefully placed the remaining half of her sandwich on top of the book, stalling for time to compose herself before she answered.
“What do you want, Tyler?” she muttered, struggling to keep her voice even. She swallowed nervously, trying to quell the rising sense of panic.
The dark-haired boy grinned mischievously. “Don’t be so rude, Abby.”
“Yeah, Brittany just wanted to say hi to you.” His identical twin Jason said indicating the pretty blonde girl plastered to his arm like a damp towel.
Abby murmured a greeting, refusing to look up at her tormentors. Her emerald-green eyes remained trained on her novel. She wished that they would get bored of their little games and leave so that she could escape back into its pages.
Brittany wrinkled her nose in disgust and glanced up at her boyfriend’s face, pouting as she whined. “Jason, baby, let’s go—she’s like, sooo boring.”
Jason cupped her face with his free hand, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb as he thought out loud. “Boring, huh? Then why don’t we make things more interesting?” A cruel smirk spread across Brittany’s face, and she nodded encouragingly.
Abby’s eyes grew wider and she looked up at them, apprehension knotting her stomach. What were they planning this time? Her mind raced and she braced herself for whatever new humiliation they had thought up. “Wh-what are you…HEY!!” she protested, more loudly than she had intended as Tyler ripped the book away from her, sending the sandwich flying. It landed-still mostly in one piece-part way down the corridor where it was quickly trampled by the gathering crowd of spectators. Her fellow students, all clad in regulation blue blazers and white dress shirts, soon packed the wide hallway. All were eager to watch Walkley Academy’s favourite spectacle - bullying Abby Shepard.
“Aww, was that love for the book or the sandwich?” Jason jeered, quickly rewarded with a cackle from Brittany. Tyler handed the book to his brother.
“I’ll bet it was for the sandwich—she can’t eat the book.” Tyler chuckled,
The crowd played along, some of them taunting and threatening Abby, others egging the twins on. Tyler glanced at his audience and grinned—this was great fun, as usual.
The Keller twins had always been popular at every school they'd attended; and Walkley Academy in Georgetown, D.C. was no exception. The boys had enrolled in the school a little over a year ago. Now, almost halfway through their senior year, everyone knew them—and most people liked them. As cool as they were good-looking, both boys and girls wanted to hang out with them. The staff were equally charmed by the pair of young gentlemen-which is exactly what they pretended to be until authority figures were elsewhere.
The crowd fell silent and parted as Tyler walked through them, over to the remains of Abby’s sandwich. “You can still eat it, if you’re hungry.” He nudged it with the toe of his dress shoe “No…I take that back. It’s still too good for you.” Lifting his foot, Tyler brought it down with a squelching thud, the bread flattening and its insides spilling out in a rush. “There.” He sneered at her. “Now it’s nearly as low on the food chain as you are.”
Abby cowered, anticipating that the twins’ next move would be even worse if she broke down and cried.
Tyler snapped his fingers at Jason, who tossed him Abby’s book. He caught it and scraped the bottom of his shiny black shoe against it, wiping the remains of the sandwich onto it. Throwing the book to the floor, he began walking down the hall without a backwards glance. Jason jerked his head sideways, motioning everyone to go.
The crowd dissipated as quickly as it had formed, scattering back into groups, all cutting a wide swath around Abby and her book. Brittany smirked down at Abby as she walked by, still clinging to Jason. “I’d say sorry about your food, but it’s not like stuffing your fat face is gonna make you feel better.”
Jason sneered, pulling Brittany along with him, “Later, sis.”
Abby stared wide-eyed at her trembling hands, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest. She lowered her head into her hands, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Just…just wait…” She whispered, hugging her knees tightly, trying to make herself smaller and smaller. The motion pushed her sleeves up slightly, revealing the angry raised red scars that covered her forearms. “It’ll be over soon.”
Chapter 3
Gabe leaned back in his comfortable leather desk chair, feet propped on his desk. He sighed in boredom—an office was not the place for him. Paperwork was definitely not his forte, he thought, glaring at the wavering stack of files that threatened to topple over in the tray on his desk. Pushing his long, thick blonde hair away from his face, he wondered what was the better option—start on the steadily increasing pile of paperwork, or—well, frankly, that box of manna biscuits on his desk was looking better by the minute.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his office’s door, which swung open to reveal one of the messenger angels who were always rushing around the building. The middle-aged man spoke quickly, eager to relay his message and be on his way.
“Gabe, just so you know, Aiden’s on his way to see you.” He glanced down the hallway he had come through. “Ah…gotta go, good luck!” he called as he hurried away, leaving the door open behind him.
Gabe had just enough time to put his feet on the ground before Aiden entered the room, looking smart in a crisp black suit with a stack of folders under one arm. Gabe groaned inwardly—great, more paperwork? Today, it seemed, was not his day.
Aiden gave him a friendly smile. “Gabe, my friend. It’s been too long!”
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Aiden, you were here yesterday.” he said, indicating the teetering pile. “All your fault. Now, are you just here to add to the pile, or do you have good news for a change?”
Aiden grinned, pushing up his glasses with his free hand. “Both, actually. You’re back on the beat, kid.”
Gabe laughed, pumping his fist in victory “Yessss!”
“But…”
Gabe looked up, suddenly suspicious. “But what?”
Aiden sighed, shaking his head. “This one’s urgent.” Gabe nodded, perplexed. Urgency was a given in the guardian angel business. “More urgent than usual, Gabe. She’s almost gone. You’ve got maybe twelve hours to save her—twenty-four if you’re lucky, but…” he looked up at the blonde teenager. “Not even you could be that lucky.”
“So…what’re the details?” Gabe asked, brow wrinkling in concern.
“Her name is Abby Shepard” Aiden intoned, tossing a thick file onto the desk.
Gabe picked up the brown manila folder and flipped it open, placing his fingertips on the stack of papers.
An image of a sweet looking, slightly mousy teenaged girl appeared, floating in the space between the two angels. Scenes from her life began playing at random before their eyes. A pretty blonde girl hugged her, smiling; the scene changed and the same blonde girl pushed her hard into a row of lockers
A man picked up a young Abby and twirled her over his head; An older Abby stood over the same man’s contorted corpse, tears streaming down her face. A woman and two twin boys glared at her before the boys rushed at her, hands balled into fists and cruel smiles on their faces. A razor blade sang as it bit into her flesh, drawing rivulets of blood. Gabe pulled his hand away, eyes wide as he stared at Aiden.
“She lives with these two boys…” Aiden gestured with his hand, and the image changed to one of two attractive dark-haired adolescents. Gestured, and it changed to a scene of the two boys leading a crowd in ridiculing the girl, Abby.
Gabe watched the images closely, as one of the boys destroyed her belongings, much to the delight of the crowd behind him. A look of pained disgust was plainly written on Gabe’s handsome face. Aiden took that as his cue to close the file, which he did with a flick of his wrist, dispelling the disturbing scene.
“That was earlier this morning, Gabe. It’s not an isolated incident, obviously. She’s at the end of her rope. The situation is dire.” Aiden stated, adjusting his glasses as he spoke.
“Wh—why am I just receiving this case now?!” Gabe exclaimed in disbelief, standing up quickly. He slapped the folder on the desk in front of him. “How could you ignore this for so long—this girl’s life is in the balance, and you chose to leave her in that situation-”
Aiden cleared his throat. “Do I need to remind you that I’m your superior, Gabe? Sit, please.” Gabe stared at him a moment longer, then reluctantly sat back down. “There. This wasn’t my idea—this order came straight from the top.” Gabe folded his arms across his chest. There was nothing he could say against that.
“Now then, you’re her guardian. Try feeling for her.” Gabe looked at him, nodded once and then shut his eyes, focusing. Aiden watched as Gabe’s eyes moved rapidly behind his eyelids, searching for a pulse of life, of hope—he watched as Gabe brought his hands up to his temples, watched as his face twisted with confusion and anger and fear for a girl he may never… Gabe’s eyelids flew open.
“She’s faint…so faint…” he gasped out.
Aiden frowned, inquiring gently “You found her, I take it?”
Gabriel nodded, his eyes shut once more. “Yes, but…by all means, she should be gone already… Her…”
“Her life pulse is extremely low, I know. I tried to feel for her before I came to see you—you see why this is urgent. She’s been strong enough to hold on this long by herself, but if nothing is done, the conclusion is obvious. She will take her own life, the enemy will harvest her, and the blood will be on our hands.” He shot Gabe a meaningful look.
“You mean,” Gabe gritted out, “her blood will be on my hands. I hope you know what you’re doing, giving this to me.”
Aiden cocked his head. “Just following orders, I’m afraid.” He turned to leave, but halfway out the door, he looked over his shoulder. “But I think we both know that he wouldn’t give you this assignment if he didn’t believe in you.” Gabe watched him leave with a blank look on his face.
“Straight from the top, huh?” Gabe muttered, lunging across the desk to grab the file. He dragged it forward, flipping it open and grabbing a manna biscuit from the box. A cup of steaming black coffee, his only true vice from his time on earth, appeared on the desk.
He took a bite of the biscuit, munching quietly as he poured over the text documents that lay spread out in front of him. Gabriel dissected the bits of information, learning about his new charge and what he needed to save her life. He swallowed the mouthful of manna, washing it down with a swig of coffee.
He drummed his fingers as he read, knowing he would have to act quickly in order to save the girl. As unpleasant as the mission could turn out to be, he had one consolation. At least he would be out of his infernal office.
Chapter 4
The small Chinese restaurant was empty as usual, despite the beckoning neon-orange glow of the open sign. Through the spotlessly clean window passers-by could see the pristine, if dimly lit, interior. A mixture of small round tables and larger rectangular ones dotted the spacious dining area, each covered in a clean white tablecloth and sporting several small condiment bottles.
Though it was lunchtime and the restaurant was in the heart of Chinatown, not a single passer-by gave it more than a fleeting glance. There was something odd about the place. No one was ever seen entering the establishment, yet every day the lights went on, the sign lit up, and the restaurant waited. It waited until the lights went off and the sign was turned off. It waited, and no one came.
It was hard to grasp what it was that made it seem so strange, why no one would enter the restaurant, despite its cozy interior and a sign promising the best eggrolls in town. Perhaps it was the lack of a distinctive smell in the air around the place. There was a subtle smell, but one that was neither tantalizing nor repulsive. Something like the scent in the air after a snowfall, the place smelled clean; pure. Untouched, like the pristine interior. And yet, the lights went on and off each day, the Chinese characters on the sign for the Manna Buffet giving off a loud neon hum.
The ancient Chinese man, stooped with age, stirred as he heard a soft rustling noise announce his customer. He gently placed down the glass he had been polishing with a soft white cloth and looked up across the restaurant’s bar.
Materialising in front of him onto one of the old leather capped barstools was a young man he hadn’t seen in some time. A slight frown puckered his already heavily wrinkled features. “Gabriel? What are you doing here? Last I heard,” He leaned forward onto the bar and picked up another glass to polish “you were on office duty.”
Gabe smiled politely, overlooking the old man’s use of his full name. “News doesn’t travel very fast down here, Mr. Fong.” The old man nodded his agreement.
“Indeed it does not, Guardian.” He placed the cleaned glass down with a clink. “There are not enough of your brethren passing through here these days for me to know everything I should.” The old man raised his hand, gesturing to the empty restaurant. “This place used to be teeming with angels like you, but now…” He shook his head sadly.
What Fong hadn't voiced was a fact known all too well to angels. With the world in a constant state of rising chaos, there simply weren't enough angels to fill the void. Missions where often assigned at the last possible moment, forcing Guardians to improvise. Though everyone from the lowliest messenger to the Archangels themselves doubtless felt the overwhelming desperation of the human population, in the never-ending battle between good and evil, good seemed to be losing.
“Aah, well,—I trust you are up to speed on your mission? There isn’t much I can do for you if you aren’t, not this time…” Fong trailed off, muttering something about the good old days and news.
Gabe nodded. “Of course; never leave home unprepared, and all that.” He stood, stretching his lanky frame and finger-combing his long blond hair away from his handsome features. “Now, if there isn’t anything else, I’ll be on my way.”
The little Chinese man looked up at the considerably taller teen. “One moment…“ Mr. Fong turned and rummaged around under the bar for a few seconds before he found what he was searching for.
“Here. Take this.” He handed Gabe a paper takeout menu for the Manna Buffet, with something scribbled on the back in pencil. Gabe examined it, turning it over in his hands and unfolding it.
“All in Chinese, Fong?” He raised a quizzical eyebrow at the old man, who coloured slightly but stood his ground.
“Safety measure—no humans eat here, and demons are not known for their linguistic skills.”
“I know—I was just teasing you.” Gabe said with a chuckle. He turned and walked towards the exit and pushed open the door. He turned back, leaning in the door frame “See you later, Fong!”
Fong watched Gabriel leave and shook his head, calling out as the door slid shut “Don’t lose that paper!!” He frowned and turned, half-heartedly deciding to polish more of the bar glasses. Anything, he thought, to pass the time.
* * *
Raph strode into the classroom, his serious mood evaporating as the human girl, Brittany, waved at him. “Hey, Raaaaph,” She smiled fakely at him as she pressed herself to Jason’s side. “You missed some fun at lunch!” She emphasized shooting a pointed glance towards Abby.
The demon smirked at Brittany. “Sorry I missed it!” he exclaimed. Any misery his target was put through made things easier for him, in the long run. If humans could do his dirty work for him, who was he to complain? Less blood on my hands anyway, he thought.
The concerned voice of Jason broke Raph’s train of thought “Dude, Raph—what happened to your face?” Raph brought his left hand up to his jaw, gently tracing the indented scabs there. The twins and Brittany stared at him as he drummed his fingers over the scratches thoughtfully.
“Oh, nothing much—You should see the other guy.” Raph snorted.
The twins glanced at each other uneasily. “Who would be dumb enough to pick a fight with you? I know I wouldn’t want to piss you off!” Jason said.
“Me neither, man. Guy must’ve been crazy.” Tyler added, refusing to be left out of the conversation.
Raph grinned in approval as he took his seat at the back of the class, where he could watch everything and everyone. Abby, a few seats away from him, looked over her shoulder, quickly turning away when she saw him.
She obviously wanted to avoid conflict—she was nearly broken, and it showed in her manic eyes when she looked back. The glance had only taken a second. That second was all that Raph needed.
Leaning forward, he gripped the far edge of his desk and turned his body sharply to the right, facing towards Abby. The desk shifted with him, the plastic feet squealing in protest as they dragged across the worn tile floor. The girl’s shoulders stiffened visibly under her shirt at the noise, and did not relax after it had stopped. She could feel Raph’s eyes on her, sensed his feral grin, and she hunched inward on her desk, trying desperately to ignore him.
Raph opened his mouth to say something poisonous—and then the classroom door opened. A powerful shiver ran down the demon’s spine, and his gaze snapped to the front of the room.
A young man strode casually into the classroom, following closely in Ms. MacDonald’s footsteps. The middle-aged, slightly frumpy English teacher beamed as she addressed her students. “Attention please, people! Raph, straighten your seat.” Raph ignored her, still in his half-twisted seat, neck craned as he stared, transfixed, at the guy at the front of the class.
Not just any guy, he thought, mind racing. Far from it, in fact. He couldn’t believe the amount of unworldly power emanating from the teenager before him.
“Damn it.” Raph cursed under his breath, looking murderous.
“Pardon me, Raph; did you say something?” Ms. MacDonald asked sharply.
Rolling his eyes, he waved his hand dismissively. He dragged his desk back, away from Abby’s. The teacher nodded her approval and continued with her announcements. Raph feigned interest in the textbook in front of him as the teacher began to introduce the tall young man beside her.
“Everyone, we have a new student joining us today—I’d like you all to say hello to Gabriel Ward!”
All eyes in the room were trained on the newcomer. A few of the guys in the class offered half-hearted nods of greeting, while most of the girls eyed the handsome stranger appreciatively. Raph stared covertly up from his book, unnerved by the appearance of such a powerful opponent—he had hoped that his efforts to collect Abby would go unnoticed. Of course, he thought bitterly, I’m not that lucky.
* * *
“So, Gabriel, would you like to say a few words about yourself?” Ms. MacDonald smiled up at the good-looking boy.
“Sure” He replied. A frenzy of muffled giggles and excited whispers spread amongst the girl in attendance at the sound of his sophisticated British accent. “Hi, I’m Gabe.” he paused briefly to pull his long silky blond hair back, out of his eyes. Some of the girls in the room sighed as it rippled over his shoulders and settled down his back. Brittany leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of curiosity and longing. “I just moved to Washington a few days ago, so any help finding my way around is much appreciated.”
Ms. MacDonald nodded her agreement. “Well, we will have to assign someone to show you around.”
Gabe’s eyes swept the room as he looked at his new classmates. He spotted her right away, the only girl with her hand not raised in the air. Instead she seemed to be busy scribbling away in the margins of her notebook. She glanced up, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second. In that second, Gabe felt the connection between them surge, felt the pulse of the life that now depended on him.
“Well then, Gabriel, welcome to Walkley academy, one of the foremost private schools in the country. You may take the empty seat behind Abigail.” She indicated the small brunette, oblivious to the fact that Gabe had willed her to assign him that very spot.
“Now, who should I choose to be Gabriel’s guide? I’ll need someone to catch him up in the course, show him around campus and answer any questions he might have.” She smiled, first at Gabe and then at Brittany, who smiled back smugly, knowing that she was always picked for this sort of thing.
“Of course, I’ll pick Br—Abby!” Her voice broke and changed to a high, wavering pitch, her eyes misting over briefly. Mrs. Macdonald’s body sagged forward and she blinked, confused and with a sudden pain in her temples. “I’ll—I’ll be right back, class. Please study quietly.” She staggered out of the classroom and headed down the hall.
As soon as she closed the door the class burst into loud chatter, students discussing everything but the coursework.
Gabe winced, knowing it was he who had caused her such discomfort. There was no helping that, however; Abby was his priority now.
Sensing her unease Gabe took his cue and walked up to Abby extending his hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you…Abby is it?”
“Y-yes...” She squeaked, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor as she hesitantly shook his hand. At the mention of her name Abby’s mood had changed from indifference to panic. She had wanted to protest her new and completely unwanted responsibilities but Ms. MacDonald had left so quickly. Instead she sat staring fearfully up at the impossibly handsome stranger, trying to decide whether or not to follow the teacher’s example and run from the room.
“So, can we meet up after class to set up some sort of study schedule?” He asked, taking the seat behind her.
Abby nodded, albeit reluctantly.
Ms. MacDonald reappeared with a flourish of apologies for her sudden departure, explaining that a sudden headache had sent her to the nurse’s office for medication. Within moments class was underway and the finer points of Shakespeare’s Hamlet were being dissected.
Ignoring the lecture entirely, Raph stared at Gabe. With a dangerous glint in his eye, Raph leaned forward and whispered in his opponent’s direction,“Well played, Guardian.” He hissed, knowing that the humans in the room were unable to process the sound of the demonic language.
Gabe bristled slightly, responding in kind. “Fair warning thief: resign your mission. Try anything, and I’ll destroy you.”
Raph heard the powerful threat in the Guardian’s tone, sensing the barely-bridled power behind it. He covered up his hesitation by leaning back in his seat and giving a snort of derision. He would not let this guy intimidate him; not openly, at least. “This will be an interesting game, then, Guardian.” He smirked at the angel.
Yawning in boredom Raph flipped casually through his textbook for the remainder of the class, fingers tapping on the desk’s surface, counting down …3…2…1. The bell rang loudly, signalling the end of the period.
Before the bell had even finished ringing, Abby raced from the room. Gabe blinked as she retreated; he had no time to react. Gathering his books, Gabe took his leave of the classroom, passing through the hallways and keeping his keen eyes peeled for the cute little brunette.
Instead, he spotted the demon leaning on his locker amidst a group of friends. Raph turned his head, watching the guardian as he passed. “You won’t win.” He hissed, his eyes flashing red with anger.
“Just watch me.” The angel grinned confidently at him as he walked past, still looking for Abby Shepard.
Chapter 5
He leaned against the polished onyx pillar, arms crossed over his muscular chest. He was like a lion; beautiful, regal, and very, very dangerous. His dark-eyed gaze was trained on the scene playing out in front of him within Satan’s personal chambers.
“Do not fail me!” Satan’s voice boomed. A flash of angry orange light filled the room, casting her in a ghastly pallor.
He waited for her to release the boy-wondering idly if it was one of his own children-and close the connection. He strode towards her on silent feet, taking advantage of her distracted state.
She didn’t know he was there until he grabbed her from behind, encircling her slim middle and pinning her arms to her sides with one strong arm. His free hand covered her mouth, muffling her scream and pinning her head against his chest.
She snarled and grunted, trying to squirm away from her attacker. Her struggles were no match for his iron grip. Becoming increasingly desperate to free herself, Satan jerked her head upwards, hitting him mid chest. Cursing, he loosened his grip just enough for her to find the soft flesh between his thumb and finger with her teeth. He snarled in pain as she bit down hard, drawing blood.
Fighting for control he drove his hand further into her mouth, her head making contact with his chest once more. “BE STILL!” he ordered, his voice seething with fury.
Her eyes opened wide in shock at the sound of his voice, her struggles ceasing instantly. “Lucifer?” she gulped, diction heavily impeded by his hand.
They remained like this for several seconds, Satan pinned against him, showing none of her previous fervour for escape, Lucifer holding her tightly, his blood dripping down her white throat.
Lucifer looked down at her, the hint of a smirk playing across his lips. “Are you going to behave?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She nodded her head slowly.
Satisfied with that, he removed his hand slowly. She tilted her head upwards, watching his handsome face as he examined the damage. “You little minx, look what you've done.” He whispered, his tone unreadable. “What shall I do with you?” he mused, enjoying the growing fear in her large green eyes.
“Should I punish you and make an example, or be merciful and take my anger out on some other poor soul?” He whispered, casting a fleeting glance toward the slave chained in the corner of the lavish room.
Realising his intent, she became desperate to soothe her mate’s damaged pride.
“Forgive me my lord. I didn’t realise it was you.” She pleaded.
“You didn’t realise it was me? My dear, when have I ever granted permission for any other to enter your chambers?” His face twisted in disgust as he gestured at the corner. “Other than your…pet.”
She wasn’t stupid enough to argue; she knew that the consequences to her and her slave would be dire. Experience told her to keep her tone apologetic and meek and soon Lucifer would calm himself.
When he looked down at her, cowering and waiting for his wrath, he couldn’t be more pleased with her. He revelled in the fact that he could have that effect on her. She was fiery and, no doubt, as malicious and plotting as him. She was the only fallen whose beauty, intellect and power came close to his. She had something about her that made him want her, made him yearn for her more than any other woman ever could. They were indeed matched souls.
He allowed himself to revel momentarily in the pleasant warmth of their contact. She was so tiny, he marvelled. Easily the shortest of the fallen. So much cunning and power in such a small package. He hung his head downwards, resting his chin on the crown of her head.
“Mine” his whispered huskily, placing a kiss where his chin had rested. He scooped her up and carried her across the room to the giant bed that waited there. Laying her down, he positioned himself beside her. Stroking the side of her body he drew her lips into a passionate kiss.
* * *
Satan knew the importance of moments like these. A king’s trust was difficult to earn, and nearly impossible to keep. He had dozens of mistresses of course, possibly even hundreds. She knew that. She didn’t let it bother her; who was she to make rules for the King of Hell? Besides, the benefits of her position far outweighed the costs.
His mistresses also served another purpose. Lucifer needed minions, demons of powerful bloodline who would be loyal to him alone. While these children could never become heirs due to their bastard status, they did inherit some of their father’s magnificent powers, making for a very potent personal army.
Satan allowed her eyes to drift momentarily over the beautiful creature chained in the corner. The thick black tattoos that bound it to her service began to gently pulse and glide across its flawless pale skin. Feeling a slight tickle as the markings sprang to life, the creature knew its mistress was thinking kind thoughts about it. It didn’t meet her gaze. It was smarter than that. It had learned long ago to stay quiet and still whilst Lucifer was present. Its desperate attempt to blend into the background was fuelled by fear of arousing the king’s abusive attentions.
Lucifer stilled beside her, his mind a million miles away. He concentrated on a spot on the far wall, a vacant look replacing his previously lustful expression.
When the connection was broken he looked down at his mate with a mildly apologetic smile. She was so very desirable, but regrettably their tryst would have to wait. Reading his expression perfectly, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a frustrated stare.
“Let me guess!” she demanded sharply. “Draven.”
He chuckled, knowing that she would much rather he stay and continue. “Yes, Draven.” He said with a soft sigh. “I am sorry love, it seems as though this will just have to wait.” He leaned in and captured her lips once more with his before reluctantly taking his leave of her chambers.
Frustrated and rejected, Satan sat up with a growl. Pushing herself up from the comfortable, warm bed, she strode toward the mirror. Her eyes flashed crimson with anger. “DUNGEONS!!!” she bellowed, striding forward as the glass rippled, enveloping her as she disappeared into its shimmering depths.
The pale creature in the corner shuddered, knowing all too well that some poor soul was about to suffer greatly at the hands of his enraged queen. At least it appeared as though it wouldn’t be him; not this time, anyway.
Chapter 6
Gabe looked down at the screen embedded in the car’s console. “This…can’t be right…” he muttered, shaking his head in wonderment. He tapped the location on the map, bringing the address into view. “Yeah, they’re the same,” Gabe said, comparing the information on the GPS to the notes that Fong had scribbled on the back of the Chinese menu. “But…this can’t be right!”
Gabe gawked at the house beyond the large wrought-iron gate in front of him. The gate swung inwards automatically as he approached, almost as if it was waiting for him. The driveway wove up a small hill, culminating at the largest manor house Gabe had ever seen. It was ridiculous, thought Gabe, that he would be the only person living here. It could easily house several families. Or a small village. He grinned and put the car into gear, driving up to his new home.
He threw open the elaborately carved front door. “Honey, I’m home!” he called out, pausing in the entryway to appreciate the acoustics of the house. While he had expected an echo, he hadn’t expected the sounds of a muffled explosion coming from somewhere to the right of him. He turned his head, listening hard. Another explosion.
He inhaled sharply and advanced, following the sound. His fingers curled into fists as he felt the tattoos on his shoulders begin sliding around under his skin, forming runes of protection around his body. The delicate silvery-white script that now flowed across Gabe’s skin wasn’t simply decorative. The markings acted as a sort of conduit, a link to the Holy Power that ran through his veins. All angels had them, and, Gabe knew, so did the fallen. The tattoos lay dormant until he had need of his powers, like now. Then the angelic script was free to roam his body, offering him both the protection and control of the power within. His skin began to glow faintly and he darted forward, seeking out the source of the noises.
This place really is huge, Gabe marvelled as he silently rushed down a long, spotlessly clean corridor. Doors surrounded him on either side. He pursued the sound, making his way toward the large, bright room at the end of the hall. Small explosions echoed around him as the smell of burning plastic filled his nostrils. He grimaced—this could prove to be more dangerous than he had anticipated. His long hair trailed behind him as he swooped into the room.
* * *
Aiden turned, facing his young friend. “Hi Ga—“ His voice was cut off abruptly by a bright white force-field slamming into his abdomen, sending him flying into the island. His back buckled violently and his head crashed onto the marble countertop before he slid to the floor.
He lay there completely still, the wind knocked out of him. He began to cough, gasping for breath. When he could manage to breathe again, Aiden propped himself up on one elbow, staring up at Gabe. The silvery script of his tattoos climbed up his neck and framed his scowling face. His eyes flashed white as the power faded, growing dormant once more.
Aiden tilted his head, squinting up at him. “Ow,” he wheezed, adjusting his glasses. He pushed himself up slowly, grabbing the counters for support. Aiden stood slowly, dusting himself off and adjusting his rumpled clothing. He cracked his neck from side to side experimentally “Was that really necessary?” He rubbed the back of his head gently. “I'd forgotten how fragile these human bodies are.”
Gabe’s stance had relaxed since Aiden had picked himself up, and as Aiden watched, the power drained from him, the tattoos receding from his face and hands back under his clothing. His eyes returned to their normal stormy grey.
“What are you doing here, Aiden?” Gabe asked.
Aiden gestured at the stove behind him. “I was making you dinner, before you assaulted me.” Gabe looked past him at the stove, which was charred black instead of its usual white. Smoke leaked from the door, and it was emitting a hissing noise that was beginning to concern him.
“Aiden…did you unplug that thing after you destroyed it?” Gabe asked.
Aiden looked at the stove, then back at Gabe. “Why would I unplug it? It’s still baking my…my SOUFFLE!!” He bolted to the oven and pulled open the door. Smoke and flame billowed out at him, forcing him back.
“Aiden, get back!!” Gabe glanced around and grabbed the fire extinguisher that hung on the wall. Acting quickly, he pulled the pin and aimed it at the flaming oven.
Aiden cried out as the foam hit, covering him, the oven and its contents.
“Turn it off!! Turn it off, Aiden!” Gabe shouted, realizing that the fire extinguisher could only do so much. Aiden leapt forward and smacked the off button with the palm of his hand. When he was satisfied that the fire was finally extinguished Gabe dropped the can to the ground with a clang.
He looked over at Aiden, who was hunched over the stove, reaching into it with oven-mitted hands. Gabe contemplated kicking him in, but decided against it. The consequences probably weren’t worth it. “Why are you here, Aiden?” He asked exasperatedly as Aiden retrieved the soufflé which was now blackened, smoking profusely and coated with flecks of foam.
Aiden placed the dish on the counter carefully and pulled off his oven mitts. He dusted his hands off on his frilly white apron, which was now streaked with soot and singed at the hem. He muttered to himself about ‘never trusting that cookbook again’ and ‘call up the oven manufacturers’, seemingly ignoring Gabe’s question.
“AIDEN!” Gabe finally shouted, breaking Aiden’s concentration as he chipped away at the decimated soufflé with a knife. He turned to look at Gabe. “Sorry, I forgot to ask before, but are you okay? You hit your head pretty hard.”
Gabe walked towards Aiden, who held up his hands in protest “I’m all right, I’m all right.” Aiden said. “I’ve had worse, you know. Former Guardian here.”
Gabe frowned at him, unconvinced. “I suppose this blood isn’t yours, then?” He gestured to the puddle of blood on the countertop that streaked down and collected in a smaller, foam-muddled pool on the floor.
“These bodies are fragile, like you said. Which is why,” Gabe said, walking towards Aiden and gently touching his wound with one outstretched hand “we need to look out for each other. Heal.” he muttered. He felt the burst of power run up his arm, through his palm. Felt it reverberate through Aiden’s head. Felt the wound closing, flesh and bone knitting back together cleanly. “There.” He smiled tightly, letting his hand drop from the back of Aiden’s skull. He looked down at his hand, now red and sticky with blood. “You might want to take a shower before that dries.” Gabe said, nonchalantly wiping the blood off on Aiden’s apron.
Gabe surveyed the damage in the kitchen, all smoke, blood and foam. “We haven’t even had this place one day, Aiden, and you’ve already destroyed the kitchen…you are the reason I can’t have nice things.”
Aiden chuckled and turned back to the soufflé pan, continuing to chip it out. Gabe turned to leave “Don’t bother, you can’t save that thing.”
Aiden continued stabbing at the burnt dish. “But this pan was expensive…“
Gabe rolled his eyes and kept walking “Just toss it, okay? You’ve hurt yourself enough for one day.”
Aiden looked down at the large meat cleaver in his hand “…Perhaps you’re right.” He put the knife down. “Ah, wait!” He called out, halting Gabe at the door. “Didn’t you want to know why I’m here?”
Gabe sighed in frustration. “Honestly, sometimes I just—“
Aiden cut him off, smiling. “I’m here to watch out for you!! Starting today, I’m your legal guardian in the human world!”
Gabe turned on his heel, incredulous “You’d better be joking. I’m not the one who needs a babysitter here!” He spread his arms, indicating the ruined kitchen.
“Orders from the top, I’m afraid.” Aiden shrugged.
Gabe turned and walked through the doorway “Just—just clean this place up, please…I’ve got work to do. I can’t believe she ran away right after the class ended!” He griped, knowing there was nothing he could do about the situation with Aiden.
* * *
Aiden watched Gabe’s back recede from the doorway and picked up the pan again. He looked it over remorsefully, then tossed it into the garbage bin next to the counter. It fell in with a resounding crash. “Honestly,” he shook his head “I’ll never use that recipe again.”
Chapter 7
Raph ran up the stairs and down the hallway, throwing open his apartment door. He had left it unlocked, as always—no human would dare steal from him. As if on instinct, people gave his door wide berth.
He kicked the door shut behind him and kept running, dodging piles of rubbish as he rushed to the room. His backpack was thrown off and tossed aside. It flew through the air, landing on a pile of filthy dishes with a clatter. The sound of ceramic shattering behind him did not deter Raph as he jumped over a mound of soiled clothing. Sunlight flashed against his body as he passed the bay window. He blinked and made a mental note to shut the blinds completely when he got back.
He raced down the short hallway, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the closed door. The door swung silently inward as his fingers grazed the surface. Smoothing his wild hair with his fingers, he stepped into the dark room, approaching the tarnished golden mirror. Placing his palm flat on the worn surface, he murmured one word quietly in the demon tongue. ‘Satan.’
The image in the mirror warped, adjusted to show the one he reported to, plus one other. Satan stood in front of him, red curls askew and an annoyed look on her face. “This had better be good, Raph.” She snapped, running her fingers over the scalp of her pet. “I am in no mood for trivialities.”
Raph spoke quickly “Of course not, my lady. I have good news.”
Satan arched one perfect eyebrow “Oh?” She asked, looking unimpressed.
He bowed low, delivering with as much servile attitude as he could muster “The girl is near suicide, my queen. We will have her soul before daybreak.” He stared at the floor in front of the mirror, avoiding her gaze.
Raph looked up into her shining eyes when she spoke. “This news is excellent, Thief. If you accomplish this you are to be rewarded. However,” The smile fell from her lips, her cold demeanour returning “should you fail me, I will be most displeased.” She reached out for her pet again, burying her fingers deep in its silken hair.
Raph saw it tense suddenly, then relax into its mistress’ cruel embrace. He bowed again, quickly. “Of course.”
Satan stared at him haughtily “You are dismissed.”
“My lady.” He said quietly as she severed the connection. Raph allowed the shudder to go down his spine. It was so close to being over—he only had to wait for her to end it, once and for all. He grimaced, trying to dismiss the twinge of…something in his chest, failing to banish it completely.
* * *
Satan watched as the connection closed, Raph’s image disappearing from the mirror in front of her. She raked her fingers through her pet’s silky hair, gathering up a section of it. She began to plait it, twisting the strands together in intricate patterns as she murmured her thoughts aloud. “Soon this will all be over, my pet. If he will not give me his heir, then I will take his throne.”
* * *
Abby sat hunched over on the edge of her bed, still and staring blankly at the floor. A few wisps of mousy brown hair clung to her tear-streaked face, clouding her vision. She had changed out of her uniform, the blazer draped carelessly over her desk-chair. The sleeves of her faded sweatshirt were pushed up, exposing her pale forearms. She drew in a deep breath, shifting her gaze. Scars criss-crossed her wrists, faded pink and white lines.
Abby glanced at the door. She had shut it, but it didn’t block out the sound of her stepmother’s fake, high-pitched laughter, or the sounds of the partygoers upstairs. Kiki had invited all of the District’s high society over to the house, and expected Abby to stay safely out of sight. Abby’s lip curled in disgust. All the woman cared about was herself; herself, and her image. “Pathetic.” She spat.
She didn’t know what to do anymore. The bullying at school, the abuse at home, her father’s unexplained death and the constant nightmares that haunted her sleep…they were too much for her to handle, and she had no one to turn to. The hopelessness of her situation began to consume her, enveloping her in a mixture of self-pity and desperate self-loathing.
The solution was simple. She knew it would be different from the other cuts, but the same. With one cut, she could end all of it. With one cut, she could see her father again. Abby steeled her resolve, grabbing the razor blade she had hidden under her mattress.
She clumsily lined the razor up to her wrist and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Abby clenched her teeth, willing her muscles to dig in deep, etch the final line. The blade touched her delicate skin, began to push in and tear the flesh asunder when something inside willed her to turn around. The back of her neck prickling, she slowly glanced behind her, momentarily forgetting what she was doing.
She met her own gaze in the old floor-length mirror that sat across from her bed. She squinted in the dim light. Her reflection overlapped with a shadowy figure, its fiery eyes flashing behind her own. She gasped and fell back against the bed in her panicked scramble to get away. When she righted herself and stared at the mirror again the figure was gone, her reflection the only image there.