Guardians: The Fallout

by Lola St. Vil

  And yes, at times I can be. But that doesn’t mean this isn’t hard for me. I miss him and Reese acting fools around the house. At the time, it annoyed the hell out of me, but right now I really miss it. We would gather in the house and plan our next move. You could hear them laughing and cracking jokes from down the street.

  I know any attempt to cheer him up will be futile, but I try anyway.

  “Marcus hasn’t made up his mind yet,” I say.

  “Yes, he has. He’s just too afraid to say it out loud. On to some real talk, Meana, that’s what I always liked about you. You are never afraid to say what you feel. Maybe you should have been the First Guardian.”

  “Maybe.”

  “But then, Omnis probably didn’t want a block of ice to run the show.”

  “I didn’t come to fight with you.”

  “Too bad; I’m really in the mood.”

  “Go chase some Runners.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not mad at them. It’s the good guys who’ve pissed me off. Or at least the guys who pretend to be good and then stab you in the back.”

  “Marcus has not made a decision.”

  “But he did ask you what you would do, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And which one of us did you tell him should go?’

  “You.”

  He laughs sardonically.

  “I see getting your heart broken hasn’t changed you. No wonder he went for another girl.”

  I lift him up and throw his ass across the street and onto a nearby truck. Instantly, his wings appear and flare out. His jaw clenches and he charges at me. I simply lift my hand up and slam him into the wet and dirty ground. I look down at him.

  “Don’t screw around with me, do you hear me?”

  He remains quiet. I call for the knife in my back pocket and I send it flying towards him. The weapon is swift and precise, as is my aim. I stop less than three inches from his chest.

  “Do you hear me?” I ask again.

  He looks up at me but the anger is gone. He just looks…broken.

  “Whatever.”

  He gets up and cleans himself off. I’m more powerful than Jay but still, it was way too easy to take him down. He didn’t even Glide and try to protect himself.

  “You’re being a jerk.”

  “Yeah, the old me would have never have said anything like that. But that was when I used to be stupid enough to think that we all gave a damn about each other.”

  “You’re trying to piss me off so that I end up doing something to you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Kill you before the Council can.”

  “Is there something wrong with wanting to fast-forward the movie?”

  “This isn’t a movie. This is your life, Jay.”

  “For how long?”

  I go to touch his shoulders but then think better of it. We were never that way with each other. It’s hard to start now.

  “No matter what he decides, it’s not gonna be easy for him. He loves you.”

  “He loves Emmy.” I can feel my stomach tightening and my hand go cold.

  “Where is she?” I ask.

  “In class; Rio’s watching her.”

  “Why aren’t you in there?”

  “I’ve decided that dying again is a good reason to let my grades slip.”

  “You should get out of the rain.”

  “Yeah, that should solve everything,” he says resentfully as he takes off down the street.

  I head up to Emmy’s class. We all had to learn her schedule so that we knew where she was each second of the day (that is when she wasn’t kissing Marcus).

  Sure enough, there she is in the back row of her history class. She looks like she’s daydreaming. She does that a lot. It gets on my nerves. But she has the element that I spent most of my human life searching for; she looks utterly forgettable. That is except for her purple eyes. She is about five feet four inches. She has ink-colored hair and pale skin. She really has no curves of which to speak. And her small frame seems to have gotten even smaller since I first met her a few months ago.

  Right next to her is Rio. He looks like he’s paying close attention to the lesson but I know he’s reading color waves that only he can see. He and I make eye contact, then I move away from the classroom before Emmy can see me. A few seconds later, Rio comes out of the class and into the hallway.

  “Nice of you to take time out from all that making-out to come see me,” he says.

  “I wasn’t—“

  “--Please don’t waste my time.”

  “How much do you know?”

  “You were radiating heart break, which is what I excepted. Then a few days ago, I saw waves of lust, yearning and a desire for revenge. Now the last emotion is normal. But lust and yearning? Then, to make things more interesting, I saw most of the lust diminish and give way to guilt and doubt. So, that tells me that you did something to pacify your lust and that thing caused you to feel guilt.”

  “I kissed some guy.”

  “I don’t think we’ve met; I’m Rio. The guy who knows what people are feeling even before they do. So, I knew you were about to lie even before you opened your month to do so. Why are we playing games?”

  “Can I have a little bit of privacy?”

  “I don’t care who you do or don’t make out with. Marcus treated you like trash and you deserve to have some fun. Only trouble is, aside from feeling guilty, when you’re with this person, you also feel like you are in danger. What is it about this guy that causes you to feel that?”

  “Rio…”

  “You won’t tell me, even after everything you and I—”

  “—No, I can’t. And anyway it’s not real. I mean, it is, but it was just something I did to blow off steam. I won’t do it again.”

  “Marcus was supposed to be a one-time thing.”

  “I never said that. I loved him.”

  “Love him—present tense.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Now you’re lying to both of us.”

  “Never mind that. How could you take all those souls from Death?”

  “I couldn’t just sit there. You know that.”

  “Move back to the house. We’ll figure things out.”

  “There’s nothing to figure; I’m gonna go to Tamara Falls at end of the month and give myself over.”

  “You are too important to the mission.”

  “It was my mistake and I will not have Jay pay for it.”

  “Marcus should have been there to stop you.”

  “Well, he wasn’t, and I wasn’t strong enough to stop myself.”

  “Look, I have to go but we’ll figure this out.”

  “Go where?”

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Marcus texted me, we have a meeting back at the house first thing in the morning.”

  “You think he’s made up his mind?”

  “His waves are all shades of self-doubt and regret. It’s hard to see anything other than that.”

  “I’ll be there in the morning,” I say to him as I take off down the hall. He calls after me.

  “Ameana.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not doing anything stupid are you?”

  “No.”

  How do you lie to a human mood ring? You don’t. He is not fooled for a second. But he doesn’t call me back. Maybe he let me go because he doesn’t really want to know what I’ve been up to. Or maybe he knows but he isn’t up to facing it. That would make two of us.

  *******************************

  CHAPTER FOUR: HUN’S MARKET

  I look carefully to find a place to land where I won’t be noticed. But then I realize how silly that is. No one would notice anything, what with the three billion or so lights coming off of the Vegas strip. I land behind one of the hotels and make my way towards Hun’s Market. I’ve never been to Las Vegas. I never understood why people would want to risk losing their money on games that, for the most part, took
no real skill. But judging from the flood of tourists and shuttle buses, others found gambling worthwhile.

  From what I know of the Strip, it isn’t really all that long. But what it lacks in length, it makes up in intensity. Everything is lit up: the hotels, the restaurants and even the tourists. A man walks by me wearing an ugly cap that lights up and has the words, “Vegas, baby”.

  It surprises me that Hun’s Market should be in Las Vegas, let alone on the Strip. The Market has been outlawed by the council. Why would they have it in such an ostentatious place? Weren’t they afraid of getting caught? Shouldn’t this all be happening in some back alley? There are humans everywhere.

  I brave the crowded sidewalk until I find myself standing in front of The Wynn Hotel. I’ve seen pictures of it but the pictures have not done it justice. I’m not impressed by the height because it’s hard to impress angels with that kind of thing. But I am wowed by the smooth mirror-like exterior. Then there’s the exquisitely designed curve of the structure. Not to mention the understated elegance of the floral scented marble archway.

  And best of all, they don’t have any tacky lights. No giant marquee to point out that they are here. I really like that. Too bad there’s the little matter of saving the world. Otherwise I would go and explore. I’m sure they have a fountain here somewhere. I love wishing fountains.

  When I was a kid, I’d go to one in the park by our house. I’d wish for one thing: that my Mom would love me. It never worked all that well. But for the first few seconds after I made the wish, I basked in the hope that it would come true.

  Before I can make my way to the front desk, a man dressed in a black Armani suit comes up to me.

  “Ms. Jones?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please, follow me.”

  He leads me into the elevator. Then presses the 45th floor and we begin to ascend. He stands perfectly still and looks straight ahead. When the elevator stops, I go to get out but the man signals for me to wait. The door opens onto to an elaborately decorated hallway with suites on both sides. Then the door closes again. The man turns to me.

  “It will cost you three-third coats, Ms. Jones”

  I study him and contemplate not going though with this. But I need to see what The Caller has planned. Instantly, three long shiny feathers pluck themselves from the third and most precious layer of my wings. The man pushes a small panel on the side of the elevator and it opens up. My feathers fly into it. A moment later, the elevator door opens up again.

  This time there is no fancy hallway, just a huge warehouse.

  “This is the Market?”

  “Yes, straight ahead.”

  “How do they do it? How do they make the whole 45th floor disappear and replace it with the market?”

  “Enjoy your evening, Ms. Jones.”

  Following his not-too-subtle hint, I get out of the elevator. It closes behind me and descends back down to the lobby.

  I turn around and try to take in the scene. It is like a vast convention center. Everyone here is well-dressed. The tables are all lined up across the room. They form a barrier between the shoppers and the market. The shoppers stand in lines awaiting permission from those behind the tables in order to enter.

  It doesn’t look like the place where evil goes to sell goods and services. It looks more like people waiting to sign up for registration to a country club. Once the shopper is at the head of the line, the person behind the table asks them for payment, their feathers fly off, and they are allowed entry. Then something happens and the whole table is shaking. I’m too far away to tell what takes place exactly.

  “Not what you expected?” I turn and find him standing before me. So he’s the Caller. Great, no one to wrap around a pole. This day really bites.

  “Why didn’t you say it was you on the phone?”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it after I buy what I came for. We have to get in line to see a Craven, then we’ll know which booth has what we are looking for.”

  “Cravens? As in demons with no power?”

  “That’s a misconception. In fact, Cravens have two powers. They are Neutralizers and Desire Seekers. That is what makes them indispensable to the Market.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There are over one thousand Sellers in the Market. Every week some go to The House of Fire because they have done too much evil, or some go off to find a new hustle. That means that every week there are new Sellers with new products to take their place. How are the shoppers supposed to find the Seller they are looking for?”

  “How do the Cravens help with that?”

  “They are a directory of sorts. You give them two feathers from the third coat of your wings and they pull out an image of what you most desire from the market. Then they tell you which table number has what you are looking for.”

  “How does the shopper know that the Seller they are going to has the best items?” I ask.

  “They trust the Craven. And while Sellers often try to bribe them, most Cravens are honest for fear that should they misguide a demon, their reputation would be damaged.”

  “You said they have two powers.”

  “Yes, they are also Neutralizers. Demon powers don’t work when a Craven is around. When the Market first started, fights would break out all the time between demon shoppers and Sellers. They would start out by haggling over price, and pretty soon, The Seller would be impaled, decapitated or eviscerated by the demon shopper. Soon, Sellers refused to come to the Market for fear of their lives.”

  “Sellers don’t die, so what’s the big deal?”

  “Yes, but they hate going back to the womb. So in order to get the Sellers to come back to the market, Demons hired Cravens. That way Sellers could be certain of their safety. So as it stands now, Cravens are very valuable. They even have a union; the NOCC; National Organization for Craven Concerns.”

  “Why would the council allow that?”

  “The Council’s official stance is that the NOCC is nothing more than a fellowship.”

  “Wait a minute, the last few times the Paras have come down to earth, wasn’t it because of items sold at the market?”

  “Yes, the Paras came down to clean up the mess when a particularly evil item had been sold and used on humanity.”

  “And the Council just turns a blind eye?”

  “Many demons have accused the Council of not being as impartial as they should be, going after a group of seemingly powerless demons would be bad P.R.”

  “They allow evil to spread on the planet and that’s okay with you?”

  “You’d be surprised what I’ve learned to be okay with. Fact is, I used to be very much like you.”

  “Like me how?”

  “I was judgmental and annoying.”

  I can’t kill him or even throw him across the room. That would be calling attention to us. But there is a big part of me that is willing to do it anyway.

  “Why is everyone wearing a mask?” I ask, ignoring his jab.

  “For their own protection. They don’t want to be outted.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me to wear one?”

  “You’re a Guardian. Everyone knows you, mask or no Mask. Besides no one would rat you out.”

  “Why?”

  “They get a kick out of having a Guardian in their midst. It’s kind of like a big “screw you” to the council.”

  I look around and sure enough everyone is taking sneaking glances in our direction.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m covered. I’m a regular here.”

  “Why do demons need to have their minds read at all? Can’t they just tell the Cravens what they want?”

  “Traveler Angels are everywhere and as you know, they report to the Council. The Council has made it so that every item they ban has a Kink.”

  “How does the council curse a word?”

  “Damned if I k
now, but when you say that word, every Traveler in the nearby area is alerted. Then they have to report it to the Council. And in a matter of seconds, the Market is raided.”

  “That’s crazy. They could just use different words that mean the same thing.”

  “Or they can go to a Craven and not have to use words at all.”

  “Shouldn’t they have picked a more discreet place to hold the Market?”

  “Demons like flaunting their disobedience.”

  “So anyone can get in here?”

  “There’s a guest list. If you weren’t on it, the elevator door would never have opened to the Market. C’mon. We’re going to see Bya, she’s the oldest Craven alive. Her reputation is superior.”

  We walk over to Bya’s table. And from the long line, I would say the Caller wasn’t the only one who was impressed with her work.

  “It’s gonna be awhile,” he says to me.

  “Can’t you just tell me your plan? I’m not exactly supposed to be here.”

  “Not until I find out if there’s a Seller who has what I need.”

  I study his face for the first time.

  “You don’t look good.”

  “Luckily that’s not a prerequisite to being on this line.”

  I roll my eyes and finger the cell phone in my pocket. I should clear out all the messages.

  “How is she?” he asks.

  “Who?”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ameana.”

  “I saw her a few hours ago. She had arms, legs and her face was still attached so I would venture to say that she is fine.”

  “You have all those things, are you fine?”

  “The line’s moving,” I point out to him. He looks up and closes the gap between us and a fellow shopper who is twirling blades in between his fingers. Dear Omnis, what am I doing here?

  A few minutes later, we make it to the front of the line. Bya, like all Cravens, has veins on the outside of their skin. She is a black woman with braids, gray eyes and several piercings.

  “Hello, Guardian.”

  I smile quickly not really sure how I should be acting. He needs her to guide us to the Seller he’s looking for, but shouldn’t I have an attitude? After all, we are on different sides.