by S. L. Wilson
‘What do you know of the history of Hills Heath?’
Amber was confused by the change of direction India’s question had taken. ‘Only what we were taught in school. The town was founded in 1277 by a priest and grew over the decades due to its close proximity to the river and rail…’
India cut her off mid-sentence. ‘Not the school’s version, I mean the true version.’
She stood and sauntered over to the bookshelves at the rear of the shop. They covered the entire back wall, apart from one doorway which Amber assumed led to a storeroom. She scoured the top shelf and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book before joining Amber on the sofa. The front of the book had a picture of a red bird at the centre and Amber pressed her hand to her mouth as she recognised the image.
‘That bird…I saw it last night on the red-eyed man’s armour.’
India nodded and ran her fingers across the cover. ‘It’s a phoenix. They represent renewal and resurrection.’
‘It didn’t look like this guy was resurrecting anyone, I think he murdered someone, I heard a scream and I saw something on the ground. It was so dark and it was raining, but I know what I saw and seeing the police this morning…well, the news is a classmate of ours has been killed.’
India’s face was expressionless as she listened. ‘How old was the boy who died?’
‘It wasn’t a boy, her name was Kelly.’
India shook her head. ‘You must be mistaken.’
‘There’s no mistake, it was a girl who died, but her boyfriend is missing.’
India opened the book and flicked through a few pages until she found what she was looking for, then she held the page out for Amber. ‘Is this hooded figure what you saw?’
A colour picture dominated the page; a tall man dressed head to foot in black armour, a long cape flowing down his back and a hood drawn up over his head. His face was stern and twisted into a grotesque snarl and his eyes were red balls of fire. You couldn’t make out his feet as he was standing amongst bright orange and red flames which weren’t burning him but instead looked to be a part of him. His curved swords were on show under the cape and he held a strange black shield with tiny green flames dancing along its surface.
‘Yes, that’s the guy but he wasn’t so…flame boy, last night.’
Tom peered over her shoulder at the picture. ‘Who is he?’
‘They are called the Guardians of the Dead, an army of soldiers who keep the demons below ground in their cells.’
‘Whoa!’ Amber held up her hand. ‘Demons?’
India smiled and relaxed back against the sofa, ‘Tom was right to bring you here today. I know you mock what I do, Amber, but there are forces surrounding us that a normal human couldn’t ever comprehend.’
Amber blushed and looked at her feet. ‘I didn’t mean to offend, I just don’t believe in other forces…or demons for that matter.’
‘How do you explain what you saw last night then?’
She crossed her arms across her chest. ‘Red contact lenses and a fancy dress outfit!’
‘Perfect, so if you’re right, then why are you here?’
Amber looked from India to Tom and back again. It hadn’t been her idea to come to the magic shop in the first place, but Tom believed that this woman could help and so she needed to be honest.
‘I’m here because I think I saw what happened last night…before it happened. I have dreams that are so realistic they frighten me, but they’ve never come true, until now.’
India smiled and traced a perfectly manicured fingernail along the picture of the phoenix. ‘Magic does exist, Amber, and if this can be true then the possibility of other creatures such as demons, also exists.’
Amber scanned the small store; glass cabinets ran along the far wall, full to overflowing with jars and glass bottles of every shape and colour imaginable. In front of the window was a mahogany table displaying huge chunks of crystals, shells and charms. Another cabinet beside the staircase housed hundreds of crystal tumble stones in every possible colour. From the railings of the mezzanine floor hung dreamcatchers in all sizes, some made with feathers and others with crystals. Hand carved wands and spell books were displayed in the glass counter below the old-fashioned till.
‘No offence, Miss Saks, but love spells and protection trinkets are just for the weak-minded, it’s all hocus pocus.’
India rolled her eyes and with a quick snap of her wrist she sent the book she had been holding floating up to the ceiling. A quick turn of her fingers and the book returned to its spot on the shelf.
Amber swore and jumped up, stepping away from India. Her eyes flashed between the woman and the bookshelf as her mind whirled trying to comprehend what she had just seen.
The door at the back of the store flew open and a dark-haired boy stepped through, his thick brown hair falling across his eyes as he struggled with the box he was carrying. The muscles on his arms flexed as he jostled his way through the doorway.
Amber hopped back another step.
‘Hey, Tom.’ He looked across at Amber and smiled. ‘You brought a friend, what fetches you guys to my domain?’
Amber’s head was reeling: floating books, Guardians of the Dead and demons. She didn’t know if she had the strength to act naturally in front of anyone else right now, especially someone so gorgeous. Her inability to string a sentence together in the presence of boys (Tom excluded) had always hindered her when it came to getting a boyfriend.
Tom quickly introduced them. ‘Connor, this is Amber. Amber, this is Connor, India’s nephew.’ They shook hands and Connor’s warm smile put her at ease.
She studied him as India and Tom filled him in on Amber’s sighting last night and on the police activity at the cemetery. His navy T-shirt hugged his torso and pulled tight across his stomach where he had hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t look much older than she was but he didn’t go to their school. She would have remembered seeing him around the halls. His hair curled up slightly at the nape of his neck and she made every effort to stop herself from reaching out to see if it was as soft as it looked.
‘Guardians.’ His gravelly voice pulled her out of her daydreams as he made a statement rather than pose a question.
‘I’m afraid so,’ India answered, as she searched the bookshelves again and pulled out a couple of thick volumes.
Everything was moving in slow motion for Amber as she watched the three of them move around the store.
He didn’t even flinch when he found out about the red-eyed guy, she thought.
India began to pile book after book on the tiny coffee table: mythology, demonology, spells and potions. Thirty seconds ago Amber had been a fairly normal sixteen-year-old with a neurotic dad and a malevolent stepmother, now she was struggling to hold herself together in the aftermath of being told everything she believed was untrue, magic did exist and she was in the presence of a bona fide witch.
The sound of India’s musical voice tore her from her thoughts.
‘You must promise me, boys, stay away from the church.’
Tom and Connor nodded in unison then returned their attention to the growing mountain of books on the coffee table.
Amber shook her head. Stay away from the church?
‘Why?’ She looked at the boys’ trusting faces and directed her question to India. ‘Why do they have to stay away from the church?’
India levelled her eyes at Amber.
‘You may need to sit down for this…’ She gestured for Amber to join her on the sofa. ‘The Guardians live in another realm to our own, in a land called Phelan. They stole these lands from demons, brutally massacring thousands of them. The demons tried to flee Phelan and during the thirteenth century they began to enter our human realm. An ancient order of witches made a pact many hundreds of years ago with the Guardian general that his soldiers could use our land to imprison the demons and guard against them escaping or roaming free. The demons they didn’t kill were imprisoned and the prison
s lie directly beneath your feet – in the earth.’
Amber instinctively looked down and shifted her feet from side to side as if the floor had suddenly heated up.
‘Don’t worry,’ Connor chuckled. ‘They’re in the cemetery ground, not here.’
India went on. ‘The gateway to Phelan lies deep within the earth, along with the prison cells. It’s the Guardians’ job to make sure the demons don’t get out and to kill the ones who try to escape. The Guardians are deadly fighters so none of these creatures have ever escaped during my lifetime.’ She flipped open one of the books she had in her hands and showed Amber a set of drawings.
The picture showed the town’s old church surrounded by human-looking gravestones, but as her eyes travelled down the page she saw that beneath the foundations lay a stone prison, a deep cylindrical vault cut into the rock. A spiral staircase ran through the centre, directly under the church, and descended deep into the earth’s core until it ended at a wall of flames.
India pointed at the flaming gateway. ‘This is the door to Phelan. Only Guardians can pass through the wall of fire as their general holds the only gateway key.’
Amber’s head began to swim; all this talk of demons and Guardians on an empty stomach wasn’t good.
India seemed not to notice her distress, or chose to ignore it, and continued, ‘The pact has held for centuries, the Guardians keep the demons under control and this town remains oblivious to what goes on beneath its feet. However, there is a catch. The general of the Guardians requested a payment for keeping our realm demon-free.’
‘Payment?’
‘Yes…to recruit members for their army they require a sacrifice.’
Amber felt drained as the words began to sink in. ‘Recruit members for their army,’ she repeated very slowly, not really wanting to hear the rest of India’s history lesson.
‘I’m afraid so. The Guardian general was forged in the heart of a volcano by very dark magic thousands of years ago. He built his stronghold at the top of the Black Mountains and amassed his army from scratch using his blood magic and host bodies.’
Amber began to feel agitated.
‘The Guardians take human hosts from our realm, and using this blood magic they undergo a transition to become Guardians themselves, losing any human memories and becoming demon fighting machines.’
Her limbs became heavy and numb, and a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her. Yes, that’s one history lesson I could have lived without, she thought as the blackness enveloped her.
WHEN SHE opened her eyes she found herself cradled in Connor’s arms. His face hovered over hers, and his handsome features were scrunched up as he frowned in concern. His dark brown hair tumbled into his eyes, and Amber had to fight the impulse to smooth it back with her hand.
‘She’s awake,’ he shouted out, looking behind her towards the door.
India appeared, carrying a wet towel and a mug of something steaming. She knelt down beside her, and Connor gently lifted her up. Holding the hot liquid to her lips she instructed her to take a sip.
‘Ugh.’ Amber wrinkled her nose and pulled away. ‘That’s gross.’
Connor laughed and released his grip on her, much to her disappointment.
‘She’ll live.’ He sat back on the floor, wrapping his muscled arms around his knees.
‘By the goddess, Amber, you gave me such a fright.’ India looked flushed; her milky skin was tinged red and beads of sweat shone on her forehead.
‘I’m sorry, I guess all that talk of demons finished me off.’
Despite the sour taste, Amber took another sip of the hot liquid, her mind still swimming.
She cleared her throat, ‘I get that the Guardians recruit people to boost their ranks, and then they all fight the demons, but what I don’t understand is what it has to do with Tom and Connor staying away from the church.’
‘Hills Heath’s derelict old church holds the gateway to Phelan, it’s the picture from the book. The payment made from the town to the Guardians has stood for hundreds of years. It’s a pact and a bargain made with the town’s founder, Father Ashby, and upheld by generations of witches’ covens. Only one witch refused the payment and she vanished and was never seen again. The Guardians stop demons entering the human realm in exchange for three human sacrifices – sixteen-year-old boys.’
Amber was stunned and snapped her head round to look at Connor. He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a crooked smile. His arm muscles were tense under his sleeves. As he sat hugging his knees to his chest, his brown eyes watched her reaction, and she thought she saw admiration there.
‘It’s a lot to take in,’ he said, still gazing into her eyes. ‘I have to say I’m impressed that you only fainted – I puked all over the shop when Indi first told me.’
India clicked her tongue as she obviously remembered the moment he was referring to; she gathered her long skirts and stood up, clearing the disgusting cup of God-knows-what as she went.
He stretched his arm out towards Amber and for a brief moment she thought he was going to hold her hand. Instead he showed her a tan-coloured rope wristband.
‘It’s a protection talisman,’ he told her, twirling it around for her to see. ‘Indi made it for me when I first moved here after my parents were killed, and after she told me the town’s secret. I never take it off; it’s a bit like mosquito repellent.’
Amber laughed. ‘It’s beautiful.’
It was really pretty and not out of place on a boy’s wrist. The thin rope wound around a row of haematite crystals and when Connor lifted it to her face she could smell bergamot.
‘I’ll make one for you and Tom after we close.’
‘Why do I need one?’ Amber looked confused. ‘If they only take boys.’
‘You’ve actually seen a Guardian, Amber, I’m afraid I don’t know if that puts you in any danger so I’d rather you had some sort of protection, even if it’s only a warning alarm that alerts you to otherworldly creatures.’
‘Okay,’ she mumbled, slightly alarmed at the thought of getting close enough to otherworldly creatures to activate such a thing.
‘We must stay vigilant,’ India was saying. ‘You all must stay as far away from the church grounds as possible. If the Guardians are recruiting then that’s the only soil they can walk on in our realm.’
Connor was sprawled on the floor with his back to the storeroom door, a heavy book between his outstretched legs; he was studying a graphic picture of torture à la Guardian when Amber seated herself next to him.
‘That’s disgusting,’ she said, leaning across him to look at the full colour picture. It showed a young boy, his face twisted in fear, pinned to the floor by one of the leather-clad Guardians. He was crouched over the boy’s body pressing a thin blade through his heart.
‘That’s the Guardian ritual,’ Connor said, lifting the book up to give Amber a better look. He raised his knees and brushed his thigh against hers. Amber felt her face grow hotter. She allowed her long curls to hang forward, masking her reaction as Connor pointed at the weapon used to pierce the heart.
‘It’s a special Guardian tool,’ he said, his voice quiet as he traced a finger across the picture. ‘The handle holds a deadly blood magic and when the thin blade is stuck into the heart, the liquid pumps through the victim rendering him paralysed and usually unconscious – one easy package ready for transportation to Phelan.’
Amber flinched and inhaled sharply to settle her churning stomach, a sure sign she was heading for another fainting fit or was likely to vomit in Connor’s lap. He flipped the page of the book to show a series of pictures depicting the transformation process to become a Guardian. ‘Once they arrive in Phelan their human blood is drained away and Guardian blood is pumped in, stripping away all their human memories. The ceremony involves many magic rituals but we have no records of those.’
‘So that’s what happens to the boys from our town?’
‘If the Guardians take them, then yes.’ He smile
d ruefully as he lifted his gaze to look at her. His eyes were liquid pools of chocolate, and as she lost herself in the rugged beauty of his face she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Connor’s soft voice dragged her from her thoughts as he continued, ‘they probably won’t remember any of it: the pain or the transformation. As far as I can gather, the blood magic makes it possible for the recruit to travel through the gateway before they are fully transformed, and they are most likely unconscious.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ India interrupted. ‘Beheading a victim is not a characteristic of the Guardians. They only take a recruit if there are no witnesses. I’ve heard of Guardians being disturbed halfway through a ritual and disappearing in a cloud of fog, leaving the recruit half-dead, but they never behead people, and they never target females.’
She reached for another dusty book and added it to the growing pile on the small coffee table. ‘The same old legends keep coming up,’ she said, pulling a large volume onto her lap, ‘Guardians recruit three boys. The incident with your friend sounds like the work of a cold-blooded human killer, unless we can find proof to the contrary.’
They grew silent as they all pored over the books on Guardians and demons, looking for headless rituals. Amber and Tom worked through the town history books – the alternative history that neither of them had been taught in school. Amber’s head began to swim again, and she was just about to suggest a coffee break when Tom leapt from his seat clutching a tattered velvet book.
‘Dragovax demon!’ He was practically hopping up and down as he waved the book over his head.
India took it from him and studied the open page. ‘Well there’s our proof.’
They all gathered closer to get a better look. A picture of a huge creature filled the page; it was dark grey with thick black veins running just under its skin. Amber’s gaze strayed to the long fingers with razor-sharp talons on the end of its long muscled arms.
