Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem

by Laura Greenwood

  "Their heart stops, their breathing stops, their organs fail, their brain stops sending signals. So many different ways we can cease to exist. Even Guardians can die under the right circumstances." He pauses for a moment and I don't dare to speak.

  "And so can demons," he continues with determination. "They can be killed, and I can teach you how."

  I'm not sure I want to anymore. Not that I ever wanted to, really. I've never killed anyone in my life. In fact, I rescue spiders and put them outside before my mother finds and kills them with a fly swat. I'm that non-killing. And those demons haven't threatened me yet, have they? All they're doing is standing around the Standing Stones. Maybe they won't even stop us?

  "Don't lie to yourself," Crispin sighs. I stare at him in shock, then look inside me, scrambling for my barrier. It's down. He read my thoughts.

  "Why did you do that?"

  "Because you need to learn. You need to learn to keep your mind shielded, you need to learn to fight, you need to learn not to hesitate when a demon stands in front of you, ready to kill you. We need you to get through this alive. So, I'm going to teach you. It has to be done."

  Now he's beginning to scare me. Not in a he's-going-to-jump-me kind of way, no, in a he's-hurting-himself-by-helping-me way.

  "Take my hand." When I hesitate, he reaches over and clasps my fingers with his. "Now, send some of your magic into me. Not into my mind, into my body."

  "What if I hurt you?"

  "You won't," he says with such confidence that I close my eyes and send a single magic tendril through our clasped hands. When it flows into him, I get the strangest sensation. I guess this might be what amputees experience when they feel their limbs even when they are no longer there. It's like a have a second body, but it's fleeting, like an echo of something that once was. I pour a bit more magic into it and the awareness of this other body becomes stronger.

  "Can you feel my toes?"

  Without even having to think, I know that I can. There they are, comfortably warm in his socks. I nod, fearing that speaking might break my concentration.

  "Can you feel how I'm sitting on the floor?"

  Yes, I notice how his bum touches the uneven rug. Ehm, strange feeling. For a second, I debate to try and see how some nearby body parts feel like - this might be the only chance ever to explore the male anatomy from this perspective - but I refrain from doing so.

  "Can you feel my heart beating?"

  With a single thought, I'm up there in his chest, feeling every contraction of his heart.

  This is so strange. I can see his heart contract, no, it's more a kind of feeling rather than seeing it. And somehow, I know that if I reached out and touched it, I could make it stop.

  I pull back into my own body in a flash.

  "Why did you let me do that? I could have hurt you," I accuse Crispin.

  "I knew you wouldn't. But you need to know how you could do it."

  "So how is that better than, you know, boiling your blood?"

  "It's quick. It's almost painless. And if you don't want anyone to know... people die from heart attacks all the time."

  My eyes widen. He's no longer talking about killing in battle. He's talking about assassinations.

  "Now, let's try it without me touching you."

  He leans back, his hand leaving mine. It's cold where I miss his touch. I concentrate and send some magic his way. Entering his body is made more difficult without the physical contact, but it's still fairly easy. Just a small push and I'm in. This time, I go straight to his heart, marvelling at how this small thing manages to power his entire body. I want to reach out, touch it, take away the pain that I know is hiding somewhere inside - but that would be foolish.

  I leave Crispin's body and return to my own.

  Only to find that something is wrong. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's this strange feeling in my throat, like some food got stuck there. I swallow, but the feeling isn't going away. In fact, it's getting stronger; my airways I slowly closing.

  "Crispin," I gasp, but my Guardian is sitting still, his eyes closed. "I can't breathe!"

  His brow furrows, but the pressure around my windpipe is increasing. I wheeze, trying to get as much air in as possible.

  "Cris..." My voice fails. Black spots are dancing in front of my eyes and I can feel myself sway, even though I'm sitting on the ground. In a desperate move, I open my mind, removing the barrier, shouting out for help.

  Not that I expect anyone to hear me.

  My last breath leaves me.

  I can't breathe any longer.

  I slowly sink backwards, but I barely feel my head touching the floor.

  "Release her," Storm's thundering voice drifts through my foggy mind.

  "I can't, she'll kill her," Crispin mutters.

  "She's gone. She can't hurt them. Now let her go!"

  A slap echoes through the room. My throat opens and I gasp for air.

  "Wyn, are you okay?" Frost is by my side, helping me sit up. I'm woozy and lean against him for support. What the hell did just happen?

  Slowly my vision returns to normal.

  Crispin is staring at me, wide eyed. There's nothing but fear in his turquoise eyes, a panic that must be unbearable.

  "Arc, take him outside," Storm commands, and the big Guardian lifts up Crispin, who is totally unresponsive, and drags him out of the room.

  Frost is gently stroking my hair while Storm is looking down at us, his expression more emotional than I have ever seen it.

  "I shouldn't have left you two alone," he finally says under his breath.

  "You didn't know he would still be affected like this," Frost says soothingly, still running his fingers through my hair.

  "What just happened?" I ask, my voice hoarse and crackly.

  Frost sighs. "Crispin has... issues. When he was created, it wasn't to have a protector or even lover. No, his Goddess fashioned him to help her in other ways. She thought she could create a tool who would blindly follow her twisted wishes. But Guardians have an intrinsic sense of right and wrong. Even then, at the beginning, Crispin knew that what she asked of him was wrong. So, his Goddess made him a sister. He must have really loved her, cause he started to do what was asked of him. I don't know all the details, but according to the stories she turned him into an assassin. An inquisitor."

  "He did some terrible things," Storm mutters.

  Frost waits for a moment, then continues. "When Beira heard about it, she intervened. But the Goddess didn't give up easily. Somehow, Crispin's sister died. He doesn't talk about it, but it broke him. Beira sent him to Freya, to start a new life. It took him a long time to recover."

  "Apparently, he's not recovered yet." Storm's voice is a duet of sadness and anger.

  My heart breaks for Crispin.

  "What was her name? The Goddess who created him?"

  The twins stay silent for a moment. Then, Storm clears his throat.

  "She is the Morrigan."

  Chapter Thirteen

  I wake with a feeling of dread burrowing deep within my stomach. There is no gentle awakening, no remaining dreaminess. No, I know straight away: today we're going to have to fight. And if this goes awry, there may not be another morning for me and my Guardians.

  For the hundredth time, I am asking myself if we really have to do this. We could just hide out somewhere on Earth, waiting for our mysterious pursuers to give up. Apparently, the Guardians have access to quite a bit of money; surely, they could afford a flight to an exotic island somewhere.

  But Arc was right last night when he argued that this demon horde wouldn't stay by the Stones forever. They would get hungry and would take to the nearby villages. People would get killed.

  We need to get rid of them, and travel through the Gate in the process. Preferably with all our limbs intact.

  I sit up, looking around the room. My Guardians are camped out on mattresses on the floor; after last night, they all felt they needed to be close to me. It's cute, in a
way, but I wish that it wasn't because Crispin was suffering from a homicidal case of post-traumatic stress disorder.

  It had been a very quiet evening. The absence of our usual banter and laughter made me go to bed straight after dinner, and the guys followed quickly after. We hadn't talked much about what had happened. The twins refused to tell me more about Crispin's story. And Crispin was in no state to talk about it - and I wouldn't have asked him anyway. If he ever decided he was ready, he probably would. For now, he had to deal with the guilt of almost killing me.

  I didn't blame him, but he wouldn't listen. He had sat in a corner, not meeting my eyes, not speaking, hardly even reacting when one of us addressed him.

  I search for him in the dim room. His mattress is empty, the duvet neatly folded on top.

  The other guys are still sleeping - okay, ignore that, Storm is awake, watching me from his place close to the door. His face is hidden in shadows, but I can see tiny specs of light reflect on his open eyes. I sigh and get up. Storm lifts his head.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Looking for Crispin," I whisper.

  For a moment, I think he's going to stop me from leaving, but then he throws his blanket back (his abs look even more chiselled in the dark) and gets up as well. He puts on a shirt that's lying in a heap on the floor next to his mattress, but he doesn't do up the buttons, giving me a full view of his muscular body. Did I mention he's only wearing boxers?

  Well, if he wants to play it that way... I'll stay in my pyjama top and shorts. Not that I've got a body like him, but maybe it's enough to make him just a tiny bit uncomfortable.

  He opens the door. It creaks and Arc lifts his head, but when he sees that Storm is with me, he lies back down again.

  Good. I don't need them all to come with me.

  I follow Storm through the quiet house. The first light of the morning is illuminating the rooms just enough that we don't need to switch on the lights to find our way.

  "Where are we going?" I whisper.

  "I know where he is," Storm replies simply, and I don't ask any more questions.

  When we reach the main door, I regret my choice of clothing. I hadn't thought that far ahead. It will be freezing outside.

  But if I go back to our room now, Storm might just go to Crispin on his own. I sigh and slip into my shoes. There's a coat rack in a corner, and I randomly choose a jacket - judging from the slightly perfumed smell, I assume it belongs to Chesca.

  Storm only put on his boots, not taking a coat. He still hasn't buttoned up his shirt. Yeah, real manly. Show-off.

  When he opens the door, an icy wind welcomes us. Looks like autumn is slowly turning into winter.

  The sun is rising over the hills in the distance. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day.

  I step outside and breathe in the crisp air, trying not to think that this may be my last sunrise.

  My last chance to talk to Crispin.

  Storm walks around the house and follows the same path to the loch that I took with Frost yesterday afternoon. He's quiet; all I hear are our footsteps on the slightly frosted ground and some birds singing their morning songs.

  By the time we reach the loch, I'm freezing. Not putting on proper clothes was such a bad idea. Storm halts at the banks of the lake and turns around, taking in my shivering form.

  He shoots me a wolfish grin (yes, he can smile!). "Maybe we should turn this into our first lesson."

  Suddenly, the air around me begins to warm. My shivering stops and I move my arms through the hot air, soaking in the warmth. Just when I've almost reached the perfect temperature, the air turns cold again.

  I give Storm a scornful look. He shrugs in response.

  "Your turn."

  "How do I do this?"

  "Frost said you know how to heat water. It's pretty much the same thing."

  "Shouldn't we look for Crispin instead?"

  "Don't worry, we will in a moment. We're close."

  His reassuring voice calms my worries a little.

  Okay, let's do this. I close my eyes - I find this makes it a lot easier to reach my magic - and feel for my heart cave. My magic is snoring softly but perks up when she notices that I need her. She yawns and I have to smile as she stretches her glittering body.

  I send out some magic tendrils and begin to weave them together. No use in doing it with single ones; I'm hoping this will be quicker. I managed to warm the water by swirling my magic through it, and I'm hoping it'll be just the same with air.

  When my net is finished, I grip it tightly and mentally throw it around, swinging it like a lasso all around my body. Enough movement will hopefully make it warm in no time.

  Already I can feel a slight change in temperature. Then a breeze grasps my hair, quickly turning into something more forceful. Wind begins to howl around me and I open my eyes.

  Shit.

  I'm standing inside a wind hose which is circling me faster and faster. Storm has retreated to a safe distance, but instead of helping me he's bent over laughing. The wind is too loud to hear him, but it looks like he's roaring with laughter. Bastard. Little help, please?

  I pull back my magic, but the wind doesn't stop. It's now moving on its own volition. I sigh in exasperation. I'm such a terrible mage. I wanted to make the air warm and instead I created a tornado. I guess this skill could come in handy in battle though.

  I'm still in the eye of the storm, but it's slowly moving. If I step out of the calm centre, I'll be thrown through the air. Not sure if it's worth the risk.

  "How do I make it stop?" I shout.

  At least Storm has the decency to stop laughing. He steps forward, waving his hands in the air. Just like that, the wind dissipates.

  That looked way too easy.

  He gives me a mock bow, then grins. "You may want to work on your technique, Princess."

  "My technique?!" I huff. "You didn't teach me how to actually do this!"

  "He's not the best teacher," a low voice chimes in from behind us. Crispin!

  He's walking towards us, his face expressionless. Gone is the smile I fell in lo- ehm, that I've grown to like. His hair is messy, but not the intentional messy he usually achieves with half a bottle of hair spray. His clothes are torn in places, and small twigs and leaves are stuck to his jeans.

  In summary, he looks dreadful.

  Well, at least we found him. Or, he found us.

  "What were you doing?" I ask, giving him a quizzical look.

  He looks down on himself, only now seeming to notice the state of his clothes.

  "Oh... I went for a run," he mumbles.

  "And nature got in the way?"

  "Yeah, something like that." His voice is missing its usually chime. I almost want him to shut up, just so I don't have to hear this empty, different Crispin.

  I don't know what to say, and apparently, neither do the guys. I look out over the water; it's smooth as a mirror this morning, with only a few leaves breaking its surface. If I had the time, if this was a holiday rather than a battle preparation camp, I'd go for a swim.

  But no, I've got other priorities. Like staying alive.

  I sigh. "Storm, what did I do wrong earlier?"

  "You forgot that the air doesn't give as much resistance as water. You put in too much force, too much magic. The air needed to get rid of that excess energy, so it turned into a shape that lets it do that."

  "Seriously? Couldn't it have become something less threatening than a tornado?"

  He laughs, surprising me.

  "Try it again. This time, make your magic smaller, thinner. You don't need to start a storm, you just want to shake the air a little. Imagine shaking a sieve to get all the water out. That's the movement you mentally need to make."

  I nod. "You better stand back, I don't want to hurt you."

  They do as I say. Pity, I would have liked them to protest, only to summon some wind to push them back.

  This time, I leave my eyes open. I don't want to be surprised by a
tornado again. I try to take just as much magic as I need, then spread it out in a thin mesh all around me. I give it a gentle shake, like a sieve.

  My hips become warm. It worked! Well, in a way. I should have probably wrapped the mesh all around me instead of having me in the centre of it like a tutu skirt.

  I gently move my magic while continuing to make it vibrate. Warm air surrounds me. Bingo.

  Storm and Crispin come closer, now that they see I won't kill them with a little hurricane. I extend my magic mesh (that should become a brand name one day) until it wraps around them.

  Storm gives me another smile. Wow, he’s really cheery today.

  "Well done. See, it wasn't hard." His smile turns devilish. "To practice, you should see if you can change more than one air temperature at the same time. How about you make the air around Crispin a little colder?"

  A second later, Storm shouts obscenities.

  "Oops, did I confuse you two? Sorry, I didn't mean to make the air that cold."

  In response, Storm stretches out one arm and pulls it back immediately. Something grabs me around the waist and throws me forward, into Storm's waiting arms.

  "That's cheating!" I complain, fighting to get out of his grip. He just laughs, making his chest vibrate against my own.

  "It's all part of our lesson. Now try and escape, using just your wind magic."

  "And you won't defend yourself with your own?"

  "No, I won't."

  It's hard to concentrate when you have a muscly Guardian press against you. And a bond inside your heart whispering how lovely it would be too raise my head, pull his lips towards me, use my other hand to... Gods, one day this bond is going to get me killed. I need to practise.

  How do I get out of his grip with wind without injuring myself? He's holding me tight; even if I used the same trick as he did on me and pulled him back with an air-lasso, he wouldn't let go of me. Somehow, I need to make his hands move away from my upper arms.

  I weave some little magic tendrils and knot them around his fingers. Now, how do I add some wind? I try the straw technique, but apparently, you can't do that with air like you can with water. Next, I wish the air to do something. Well, guess it was worth a try.