The Guardian

by Elicia Hyder

  She grinned. “You’re such a bad liar.”

  One of Cassiel’s gifts was the ability to tell when people were lying. If she was seeing something in me now, then her powers extended to people even lying to themselves. I had zero intention of doing anything simply for Fury’s sake—even rescuing her sister from the pit of Hell.

  That ship sailed eons ago.

  Still, I didn’t argue.

  “Did Fury know she has the key to Nulterra?” Cassiel asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why did she try to hide it from you?”

  My eyes were fixed on the glassy ground. “Secrets are what Fury does best.”

  “Hmm,” Cassiel said without further comment.

  “I suspect she feared the symbol’s appearance was a supernatural mark that her child was the Morning Star. She didn’t want anyone to know the child wasn’t human.”

  “More maternal than you thought, huh?”

  “Absolutely.” I jerked my head toward the bank. “You ready?”

  “Yes.” She walked close beside me. “While you’re in Asheville, you should visit the second-born angel and prepare his parents for what is to come.”

  “Shannon’s child?”

  She nodded.

  “Is this a suggestion, or an official request as a Council member?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No.” I looked at her. “I’ll do it if you think I should.”

  She thought for a moment. “War is coming. That much is inevitable. They deserve the truth.”

  “I agree. Sometimes I wish I’d known everything back when everyone was trying to keep me in the dark,” I said.

  Her head tilted from side to side. “If he so desired, the Father could tell us everything before it happens.”

  “Why doesn’t he?”

  “Because maybe omniscience is a curse. Sometimes knowing too much can cause us to not act at all. Would you really wish for a life without Iliana in it?”

  “No.”

  “So maybe you not knowing made everything fall into place as it should.”

  “I hope so, Cassiel. There are far better places to spend my time away from Eden than Nulterra.”

  “Venice?” she asked, smiling but not looking at me.

  “Most definitely.”

  When we reached the grass where I’d left the backpack I’d brought along, Cassiel took off the brown bag strapped across her chest. “I want you to take this.”

  It was the satchel she’d used to smuggle items into Eden after our last trip. When I grabbed it, my arm sank with its weight. “Whoa. What’s in here?”

  “Something I hope you won’t need. Don’t open the bag unless it’s a life-or-death situation.”

  “Why?” I shook the bag next to my ear.

  She grabbed my arm to stop me. “I mean it, Warren. Life or death only. Don’t even unzip the bag. It could mean my expulsion from Eden if it’s found.”

  That was worrisome. “I don’t want it.” I tried handing it back to her, but she pulled her hands back, refusing to take it.

  “Like I said, hopefully we won’t ever have to risk it.” She put her hands down when I lowered the bag. “But if you find yourself in a situation you can’t get out of, the risk will be worth it.”

  My cell phone rang, but I was still staring at her.

  “You gonna get that?”

  With a sigh, I pulled out the phone and looked at the screen. “It’s Azrael.” I tapped the answer button and put it to my ear. “Are you playing with electricity again?” I asked my father without a greeting.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Cassiel took the bag from me, knelt, and put it inside my backpack.

  “Where are you?” Azrael asked.

  “La Isla del Fuego. You should see this place. It’s incredible.”

  “I hope I never have to.”

  Fair enough. It was demon-made, after all.

  “Fury has arrived at headquarters,” he continued. “Are you leaving the island soon?”

  “Momentarily.”

  “Is Cassiel coming with you?”

  I looked at her. “No.”

  “Good.”

  For once, my father wasn’t just being a jerk where Cassiel was concerned. He had good reason to not want her around this time. And thankfully, Cassiel not coming was her idea.

  “What’s the boat’s ETA at the pickup spot?” I asked.

  “About half an hour.”

  My tactical watch was set to Asheville’s time zone on the opposite side of the world. It was after 6 a.m. there, but the sun was fading on the Island of Fire. “I’ll be ready. I’m leaving here soon. We need to talk when I get there.”

  “About?”

  “About you trying to kill yourself to get your powers back.”

  He sighed over the line.

  “Will you be at Claymore when I arrive?” I asked.

  “We’re passing through Williamston now, so if not when you arrive, soon after.”

  “We?”

  “Adrianne’s with me.”

  Static—not from the phone—crackled in my ear. “Az, I need to go. Someone from Eden is trying to contact me. I’ll text you when I land.”

  “Roger that. Give my regards to Cassiel. Tell her I’ll miss seeing her.”

  “Right,” I said with a smirk. “Bye.” I ended the call and put my finger to my ear, listening to the spirit world for a moment. Nothing. Then I turned toward Cassiel. “Az says hello.”

  “I heard him. Tell him I said—” She held up her middle finger.

  I burst out laughing. “Who are you, and what have you done with my serious and proper friend Cassiel?”

  The slightest hint of pink rose in her cheeks. “Hanging out with humans has had a bad effect on me.”

  “Or a great effect.”

  Cassiel certainly dressed more humanlike these days. She wore a pair of olive-green cargo pants and a loose gray tank that looked straight off the rack of a military base Exchange. The only thing telling that the clothes were Eden-made was the slight shimmer of the fabric.

  I trailed my fingertips down her forearm. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Not because I didn’t want her to come, but because I wasn’t sure how I’d backtrack out of it if she changed her mind.

  “I’m sure.”

  I relaxed.

  She took a small step closer to me. “Some time away from Eden…and from me would be good for you. Would be good for us, if there is ever to be such a thing.”

  It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. Cassiel and I still weren’t together after the last shitstorm on Earth, but it was looking like a possibility.

  Cassiel was convinced that Eden clouded my judgment. Made me forget there were things on Earth I still wanted. Made me forget there were still years I wanted to spend there with my daughter, Iliana.

  And years on Earth translated to centuries in Eden. Too long for angels committed to each other to spend apart. At least, that’s how Cassiel saw it. She’d shot down the idea of living with me on Earth when Iliana was older. Saying she “wouldn’t belong,” neither on Earth nor as a part of my old life, something she’d never fully understand.

  As an angel who’d spent almost her entire existence in Eden, Cassiel wasn’t just out of touch with her humanity—as I sometimes felt; she’d never had it to begin with.

  Life on Earth would be hell for her.

  She slipped her fingers between mine, and my breath caught in my throat. “I will miss you though.”

  I pulled her into a tight hug. “I’ll miss you too. Look in on my family from time to time?”

  She nodded against my chest.

  I held her for a long time, inhaling the sweet scent of Eden still fresh in her hair, our intoxicating power radiating between us. There was so much I wanted to say…

  My “ears” crackled
with supernatural static again. I pressed my finger to my ear once more, straining to listen for voices. Still nothing.

  “What’s the matter?” Cassiel asked.

  “I’m not sure. Sounds like one of my angels is trying to call out to me, but nothing is coming through.”

  More static. Then a tiny voice. Baby babble?

  I listened harder. Realization exploded in me like a warhead. “Iliana?”

  More static. More baby babble.

  “Illy, can you hear me?”

  “Appa!”

  At the sound of my daughter’s voice, my knees buckled. I dropped to the earth like I’d been punched in the stomach by a hurricane.

  Appa was the word for “father” in Katavukai, the language of angels.

  “Warren?” Cassiel asked, concerned.

  I plugged both my ears with my fingers. “Iliana?”

  “Appa!” she said again, followed by more words I couldn’t understand.

  I put my hand over my chest to make sure my heart was still inside me. Then I braced with it against the ground. “It’s Iliana,” I told Cassiel, tears rushing to my eyes. “She’s figured out how to call into the spirit world.”

  Cassiel clasped her hands beneath her chin, her face soft with gladness.

  I turned my face to the sky and whispered, “Thank you,” to the Father, or whoever might be listening.

  But before I could reach out to my daughter again, distant voices echoed through the jungle. Angry voices.

  I stood, and Cassiel and I looked in their direction. “That doesn’t sound good,” she said quietly.

  I pulled her behind me as a group of men, ten or so, ran through the tree line. Most of them carried machetes or bats. A couple carried assault rifles.

  Cassiel grabbed the scabbard across my back with one hand and my bicep with the other. “Why is it every time we come to Earth together, we wind up in front of a firing squad?”

  One man shouted something in a language I didn’t understand.

  “What’d he say?” I asked her.

  “He wants to know why we killed his daughter.”

  “What? Tell him we didn’t.”

  “Thanks, Warren. I didn’t think of that.”

  The man started shouting again.

  “He wants us to repay him,” she translated.

  “With what? I’ve got sixty bucks in my pocket.”

  “I’m not sure what he’s talking about.”

  The men with the guns inched forward.

  “Warren.” Cassiel’s voice was laced with panic, and her nails were so deep in my skin that I worried she might draw blood.

  “Looks like this will be a quick goodbye, Cassiel.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “No clue, but I’ll see you back in Eden when I’m finished.”

  “Be safe, Warren.”

  I put my hand on hers and squeezed.

  Then as the first bullet exploded from its chamber, I grabbed my bag, and Cassiel and I blinked out of sight.

  Chapter Two

  On the other side of the spirit line, Cassiel was gone, whisked back to the Eden Gate. And in less than a second, I was transported halfway around the Earth to the United States, to an unnamed location somewhere in North Carolina. It was the only spot in the whole state which still had access to the spirit line.

  Even I had no idea where I was. Looking around me, I saw nothing but trees, so I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds of the forest.

  Seagulls cawing.

  Water crashing against the shore.

  The faint sound of a boat’s engine and its bottom slamming against the waves.

  I followed the sound through the tree line, up over a sand dune, and down onto the beach. A sign was staked in the ground.

  KILL DEVIL HILLS, NC

  Private Property

  No Trespassing

  I laughed really hard. God, the Father, had a wicked sense of humor. Who knew?

  In a narrow stretch of the Outer Banks, Kill Devil Hills was directly across the Albemarle Sound from Claymore Worldwide Security, the private army built by my father.

  I guess the Father figured any demon wishing harm on my daughter would have to cross Azrael to do it.

  A ski boat zoomed across the sound. None of Claymore’s boats were anywhere in sight. I pulled out my phone. Only one bar of service. I opened the map, and my GPS location dot hovered almost directly on top of the coordinates Azrael had sent me.

  I tapped his name in my recent call list. The call dropped. I tried to send him a text message, but it wouldn’t go through.

  Behind me, the creak of a door caught my ear.

  A gray two-story house on stilts was tucked into the tree line three hundred yards up the beach. It had a long dock leading up to a white double-deck porch overlooking the ocean.

  A guy wearing khakis and a black polo walked out onto the lower deck and waved for me to join him. I checked the sound again. There was still no sign of the boat, so I started toward the house.

  The man came down to the end of the dock to meet me. He was young. Maybe not even old enough to drink. CLAYMORE was embroidered in gold on the front of his shirt.

  He stretched out his hand. “You must be Warren.”

  “I am.”

  “Excellent. We’ve been expecting you.” Craning his neck, he looked behind me. “Did someone escort you through the security gate?”

  “No.”

  “Did you come through the gate?”

  I shook my head.

  For a beat, he looked unsure of what else to say.

  “And you are?” I asked.

  “Sorry. Nash Wright. I’m supposed to tell you that your ride is running late, but to sit tight and they’ll be here soon.”

  “Sit?” I looked around the empty dock.

  “Come on up to the house. I just made coffee.”

  As I followed him up the dock, I noticed a large black box mounted to a tall pole in the trees. It had black rods sticking out of the top. A cell signal jammer. This place was intentionally off the public grid.

  He led me through the bottom door into a large kitchen and gestured toward the dining table in front of the bay window. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I dropped my bag onto the floor and pulled out a chair. Then I removed my scabbard and sword before sitting down.

  The kid’s eyes doubled, looking at the sword on the table.

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  He blinked. “Right. One sec.”

  When he walked away, I checked my phone again. It auto connected to the Claymore network inside the house. A message popped up from Fury. Running late. Be there soon.

  I started to tap out a response, then realized I could only see half the keyboard. “Shit.”

  I checked my watch. I’d been on the ground in North Carolina for nineteen minutes. The migraine would be in full force soon.

  “Here you are.” He handed me a warm paper cup. “We’ve got cream and sugar if you need it.”

  I popped the lid off the cup and let the steam roll out. “Black’s fine. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I took a long drink of the hot coffee, hoping the caffeine would take the edge off my coming headache. The kid still stared at me. “Yes?” I finally asked.

  He awkwardly rocked on his feet. “Who are you?”

  “The Angel of Death.”

  He laughed. “I could almost believe that.”

  Almost?

  “You certainly look the part. How’d you get here?”

  I pointed up.

  “Parachute?”

  “Something like that.”

  Nash pointed to the sword. “Is that thing real?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  He shrugged. “We’re behind a locked gate. We don’t get many visitors, and never ones called in by the big guy.”

  “Claymore called in my arrival?”

  “Yup.” His chest swelled. “Talked to h
im myself.”

  “Congratulations.” I’d talked to Azrael, aka Damon Claymore, that day myself. But somehow I doubted my lecture on playing with electricity would impress the kid.

  If anything, it would probably make him ask even more questions, and my head was starting to hurt. The pain began like a dull pinprick about three inches behind my left ear. It was going to be a bad one.

  Maybe I should have brought Cassiel.

  Nash was still mesmerized by the sword. “Can I see it?”

  “No. What is this place?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. That information’s classified.”

  I laughed over the rim of my coffee. “OK.”

  A loud buzzer chimed down the hall, and Nash turned and walked out of the room. When he left, I went into the den, which was centered around more windows overlooking the ocean.

  Throw pillows were on the sofa. Magazines were arranged on the coffee table. And a few framed photos were on the mantle.

  This was someone’s home.

  I walked to the fireplace and picked up a photo. A group shot. Az and his pregnant girlfriend, Adrianne Marx, were in the center. Next to them were Sloan, Nathan, and Iliana. My heart twisted. I ran my thumb over her face.

  I put my finger to my ear and called out to the spirit world again. “Iliana?”

  No response.

  Nash cleared his throat behind me. “You’re not authorized to be in here, sir.”

  I put the photo back. “Who lives here, Nash?”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s—”

  “Classified,” I finished for him. A familiar sound drew me to the window. A faint black dot appeared in the sky with the chk chk chk of a helo’s blades.

  Nash stood beside me. “I thought they were sending a boat.”

  “So did I.” I drained the last of my coffee and crushed the cup in my hand. Then I handed it to him and walked back to the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as I reached for my sword.

  “My ride’s here.” I put the scabbard across my back.

  The helicopter slowed as it neared the beach, turned sideways, and eased onto the ground. It was solid black except for the shiny gold letters down the tail: Claymore.

  “But you can’t leave. My boss just called and said I’ll need to open the gate soon for the man himself.”

  I blinked. “Damon Claymore?”