“I’ve done some stretching,” she replied casually. She wasn’t about to tell him that she’d spent an hour rehearsing moves in her apartment before she came here.
“I have the perfect run mapped out for us today,” he said grabbing a foot behind himself to stretch his thigh muscle.
“Run?” Grace questioned. She didn’t need to run – she knew how to run.
“Yes, run. Stamina and speed are as important as self-defense skills. After all, you are training to get the opportunity to run away, are you not?”
“Of course, but I run all the time. I’m in great condition.”
He chuckled, "Tell you what – if you can keep up with me, then we won’t run anymore.”
“Fine,” Grace answered. She tried to hide her disappointment. So, they wouldn’t be doing hand-to-hand combat today. Humph. She’d show him how well conditioned she was.
It was around mile eight that Grace started to doubt her ability to fulfill the promise she’d made to herself. It’d been pouring since mile three and Caleb was setting the pace to eight and a half minute miles – she usually did nine. She could only hope that this run would be shorter than her usual ones to make up the difference.
Although they’d started the run side by side, once they’d hit the neighborhoods, they’d changed to single file to avoid traffic. He was running 10 paces ahead of her since he’d designed the route. Grace was perfectly happy with staying behind him: one, so he wouldn’t hear how heavily she was starting to breathe and two, because she was soaking in the sight of lean muscles and a firm backside. Grace wasn’t sure she’d ever ogled a man’s butt before, but there was certainly a first time for everything. He was the epitome of masculine physique, and she appreciated every sinew.
Grace only tore her eyes away when her phone began vibrating in her jacket pocket. Flicking up her synced watch, she didn’t recognize the number and let it go to voicemail. Her phone vibrated again when the caller left a message, so she reviewed the transcription on the screen. Hi Ms. Lightbourne, it’s Matty. You told me to call you if I needed you. Call me back, bye.
Grace immediately stopped running and took out her phone.
“Caleb,” she called to him, “I’m sorry, I need to make a phone call.”
“Are you making excuses because you can’t…” He must have caught the look of concern on her face because he didn’t finish what he was going to say.
The two of them took refuge from the rain underneath a picnic shelter at the recreation park across the street. Grace quickly redialed the number. It barely rang once before Matty picked up on the other end.
“Ms. Lightbourne?” His voice was quiet and hesitant.
“It’s me, Matty. Is everything okay?” Grace responded.
“I’m not happy here. The Murphys are mean.”
Her senses flared with alarm, but she schooled the initial rise of panic. “How are they mean to you?” Grace asked in an even tone.
“They make me do chores all the time.”
Grace chuckled softly, relieved. Maybe the Donahues hadn’t required Matty to do chores, and he wasn’t used to them. Chores were a good responsibility for kids to have. Grace remembered washing dishes, sweeping, and folding laundry, often side by side with her mother. While at the time she had wished she’d been doing something else, now she longed to blow one more, sudsy handful of bubbles at her mom’s face and get one in return.
“We can learn a lot from chores, Matty. What kind of chores are you doing?”
“Well, before school I dusted, scrubbed the floors, and did two loads of laundry. Then, after school, I finished the laundry, washed dishes, and polished the silver. The Murphys went to a party tonight, but they said I need to wax the furniture before bed,” His voice faltered. “I haven’t even eaten my dinner yet,” he whimpered.
Little alarms started going off in Grace’s head.
“Matty, do you do this many chores every day?” she asked, trying to hide her rising apprehension.
“Well, not the day they brought me home. They were real nice, like you said, and gave me orange soda. But every day after, I’ve had lots of chores.”
“Are they mean to you in any other way? Like do they say mean things to you or do mean things to you?”
“No, they aren’t near me much except to tell me what chores to do.”
“Matty, you said the Murphys were at a party. Is there someone home with you?” Grace almost hoped not so that she would have grounds to send someone to go get him.
“Yeah, the old lady from next door, Mrs. Lowell. She’s downstairs petting Snowbell.”
“Oh, is Snowbell a kitty?” Grace asked, trying to sound positive. “It must be nice to have a pet.”
“Not really. Snowbell doesn’t like me. He only likes Mrs. Murphy and Mrs. Lowell. He just hisses at me.”
“Well I’m sure he’ll warm up to you. Hang in there, Matty. I’ll call Ms. Clarke and see what we can do, alright?” Her heart squeezed when she heard a little sniffle.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I better do the furniture. They’ll be home soon.”
“Bye, Kiddo.”
“Bye, Ms. Lightbourne.”
Grace hung up the phone and before Caleb could get a word in edgewise, she called Annalise. Annalise promised that she’d schedule a ‘routine’ home visit with the family in the next few days. It was a relief knowing that Annalise was going to investigate. It was times like these that she wished Matty was her own case, but she was too sentimental about him and lacked the objectivity the job required.
“Sorry for stopping so suddenly,” she told him as she put her phone away. “I’m ready to go again if you are.”
“I hope everything’s okay with the kid,” he said.
“Yeah, me too,” she replied. Without further discussion, they headed back into the rain. Caleb hadn’t returned to the breakneck pace that he’d set before. Whether the seriousness of the phone call had dampened the mood, or he had sensed how winded she was, she wasn’t sure, but she was grateful all the same.
“Home stretch!” Caleb called back as they entered the local conservation area. Grace was excited that they were going to hit the trails through the park. While the foliage hadn’t yet returned, at least it would be less windy, and the area itself was beautiful. She loved having a bit of nature to escape to in the middle of a mostly urban landscape. She’d often come here to jog or clear her head. Maybe she should ask Annalise to come here. They could talk normal girl stuff and experience the sense of normalcy that had disappeared since that night in the park.
She’d just made up her mind to ask her at work the next day, when an arrow whizzed past her face.
Chapter 7
The arrow narrowly missed her and landed with a loud thunk in a nearby tree. Grace’s hand shot up to her face where the feathers had brushed past her cheek. The sticky warmth of her own blood oozed on to her fingers. This couldn’t be happening. Was she really under attack again? But why?
“Grace, go into the trees!” Caleb was already running up a steep hill in the direction the arrow had come from.
Her impulse was to follow him, but she thought better of it and reluctantly went to hide. It didn’t feel right to let him go while she stayed safe. She supposed that he was an expert and she was probably just a liability, but it bothered her, nevertheless.
Caleb and his target crashed through the woods, twigs snapping, brush crunching. Although she couldn’t see anything, she peeked out from her spot behind a tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Her heart was leaping out of her chest, not from fear for herself, but fear for him. What if something happened to him? What could she do to help him? She didn’t really know how to fight. One lesson hardly constituted expertise.
She took her cell back out and tried to call 911. She was so focused dialing that she nearly missed the flash of metal out of the left corner of her eye. She turned. A knife was slashing down toward her. She quickly brought her right hand up, blocking the blow. Her
phone flew from her hand and scattered into the brush before she could hit send. She slammed down on the attacker’s exposed elbow with her left hand. Although he was strong, she had caught him by surprise and his arm buckled, the knife tumbling to the ground. Apparently, he’d thought she’d be an easy target.
He made to grab her, but she spun away and retreated a few steps. What would Caleb do? Think, Grace think. She turned to face her attacker. It was only then that she got a good look at him. He was extremely pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sunlight in his entire life; the insipid skin was unmarked except for the brand burnt into his forehead. It resembled a bow with the string side turned upwards; one arrow stuck out to the top right, another was in between the bow and the string. On top of the string was a u-shape with both tips flared out. There appeared to be lettering around it, but she was too far away to make it out. Beneath the brand, his solid black eyes glared menacingly at her.
Was she imagining this again? Or was this real? She didn’t have time to think. Her attacker growled and ran towards her. She tried to move out of the way, but she wasn’t fast enough. He bashed into her like a runaway freight train. Grace was hurtled through the air and hit the ground hard, skidding on her side. The air left her lungs on impact, leaving her dizzy and exposed. Before she could catch a breath, he kicked her in the stomach, making her curl into a ball and hold her middle with her arms.
A second kick, this time to her back, made her uncurl just as quickly and sprawl face down in the muddy detritus of the forest floor. She was about to try to get up to meet his attack when her right hand curled around a football sized rock. She had an idea. She lay unmoving, waiting for him. She hoped that by laying still, he would come take a closer look instead of kicking her again.
She sensed him looming above her, staring down. She acted as if he had incapacitated her. Then, as soon as he leaned over her, she rolled to her back, using the momentum to help her swing the rock directly into his face. The jarring bash reverberated up her arm as the rock collided with his jaw. He lost his footing and stumbled backwards. Grace seized the opportunity, grabbing the man by the shoulders. She shoved him back with all her might, impaling him on an outstretched, broken tree limb.
“He will get you,” he hissed at her and then burst apart into a myriad of ashes.
✽✽✽
Kalev was running through the woods as fast as his feet would carry him. He’d killed the first demon with a vehemence he hadn’t known he was capable of. Half an inch. Half an inch to the right and Grace would have been dead. It had enraged him, the anger coursing through him like a fire through dry brush. He’d never been so intent on destroying a demon before. Grasping its head between his two hands and snapping its neck had been beyond satisfying.
As soon as the demon disintegrated, however, he’d realized he’d gone further from Grace than he’d intended. He’d made to get back to her as soon as he could, but he’d run into two more of the infernal archers and had had no choice but to take care of them too. Thankfully, he’d made quick work of them. Now he was searching high and low, shouting her name but she hadn’t answered yet, and it terrified him.
He didn’t know what he’d expected to find, but Grace shoving a demon onto a tree branch was certainly not it. Her face had been pure determination, and with the blood trailing down her cheek she’d been nothing short of fierce. His mind flashed briefly back to another girl, in another battle, in another time. Joan had looked much the same way as she battled against the English, albeit younger. Joan’s memory galvanized his resolve. He would not fail Grace. He would do whatever it took to protect her.
Once the demon had disintegrated, Grace fell to her knees. Her hands brushed harshly on the ground.
“Are you alright?” he said. He rushed the last few yards to her meaning to help her up, but she stood and met his gaze.
“What the hell was that? And don’t try to sell me some bullshit about mental trauma. It won’t work this time.” Her stare bordered on murderous as she outstretched a closed fist and slowly opened her fingers. Dark soot trailed slowly to the ground. Kalev stood there, speechless. He needed time to think.
“Listen. I know this is confusing. Why don’t we go back to your apartment and—”
“Confusing?” The pitch of her voice started rising. “I get attacked. I think I’m going crazy because what I saw wasn’t human – a belief which you perpetuated. Then, you convince me to learn to defend myself ‘for peace of mind.’ Then, I’m nearly killed again, and you say it’s just ‘CONFUSING?’!” She had become so loud that the squirrels were running for cover.
“Keep your voice down. Listen. I’m not supposed to tell you anything. Especially not in the open where anyone could overhear us.”
“I have a right to know what is trying to kill me. And why.” She crossed her arms and stood her ground.
“You’re right. I wanted to tell you, but I was overruled. Please, let’s go back to your apartment. We need to get out of here.”
“I am not moving one inch until you tell me what that thing was. And if you are honest with me, I will consider allowing you into my apartment.”
Short of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back, she hadn’t left him much choice. He’d rather break this small rule than fail in his mission—a mission that had just become alarmingly more difficult and dangerous. Dezzi had been right. The marks on the archers’ foreheads had confirmed it. It was the mark of the Grand Marquis, Loray. Loray was not a member of the aristocracy to be trifled with. He commanded thirty legions of demons and had immense power himself. A poison arrow was his weapon of choice – poison that would turn a wound gangrenous and cause a slow and painful death. He had very little doubt that his minions carried the same powerful weapons.
He braced himself. “It was a demon.”
The rebuttal he was waiting for didn’t come. In fact, she’d turned a ghostly shade of white. “And before? The other night at the reservoir?”
“Different kind, but yes.”
Grace brought her fist to her mouth and took a deep breath. He waited patiently. This wasn’t at all what he’d expected. No denial, no outrage. “Let’s go back to the apartment, then.”
He followed without another word.
✽✽✽
As soon as they’d arrived, Grace had locked herself in her bathroom. Caleb had tried to talk to her a few times, but she ignored him. She was desperately struggling to wrap her mind around what she’d learned. If demons were real, it changed everything she believed about the nature of life. Was Hell real? Heaven? God? Sure, her parents had raised her as a Catholic, but spending nearly a decade in the foster system and then witnessing a myriad of tragedies from the other side of the desk had made her a cynic long ago.
She sighed. Sitting in the bathroom like a coward wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She needed to go out into the living room and get answers.
He was waiting patiently for her, sitting on a chair facing the bathroom door. Apparently, he was going to let her speak first. She readied her first question.
“At the reservoir the other day. Was that a, uh, daeva?”
His eyebrows raised. “How do you know that?”
“I googled it.”
“Fair enough.”
“How come you know about them? Were you attacked once to?”
“No, I’ve known about them for as long as I can remember. I’ve spent nearly my entire life fighting them. I guess you could call it ‘the family business’.” He shrugged.
The wheels in her brain started to churn. If it was a ‘family business’ as he claimed, then he couldn’t be the only person aware of their existence. “So, there are more of you?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Hard to say.”
His short answers infuriated her. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she said through gritted teeth.
“I am not supposed to be having this conversati
on at all, no less freely dishing out extra information. I’ll answer the questions I can.”
“Why aren’t you supposed to be having this conversation?”
“Because there are people that outrank me that said so.”
“So, there’s a hierarchy of demon fighter people, or whatever the heck you call yourselves?”
“Sure. You could say that.”
“Sounds like there are a lot of you then.” He didn’t respond. She’d take that as a yes. “Why were you told not to say anything?”
“Could you imagine what would happen if we went about telling people that demons are real? Total chaos.”
“But I was attacked! Do you people let all victims think they are crazy?!”
“Most. Honestly, they usually write it off as trauma and get on with their lives.”
“Get on with their lives? They deserve the truth. What you did to me was cruel.”
“It was to protect you. It would have been much easier for you to live as normally as possible unaware of the truth. This conversation will make it much more difficult.”
“So, I’m just supposed to go around living my life like nothing has changed? As if I don’t know that demons are lurking in the shadows? I’m supposed to sit at my desk, typing away while I know they’re out there, hunting people?!” Her voice was rising but she couldn’t help it. If he thought she was just going to bow out and sit pretty given this new information, he was sorely mistaken.
“No that’s not what I’m saying,” he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think you can return to a normal life. At least not right now. It isn’t safe for you to be alone anymore.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “What do you mean?”
“Those demons weren’t just any demons. They belong to a much more powerful demon. They’ve targeted you, Grace. You heard what that demon said, the one you killed. He won’t give up now until he has what he wants.”
“Who is this ‘he’? Why does he keep sending demons after me?” she asked.
Guardian Page 7
