by Anni Antoni
“You see, over centuries the Guardians had battled Demorai Angels and protected humans from them. As a result, they had become attached to mankind. They were fascinated by humans, hated to see them harmed or in danger and loved life on Earth.”
“What? What did they ask for?” Impatience gripped me again, as Gran paused her story.
“You can't guess?” she teased.
“The Guardians wanted to look after humans? On Earth?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.
Grandma nodded and smiled. “Yes Kat, their leaders asked for permission to live among humans, and to watch over them, just as the nature Angels had done with animals and plants, centuries before.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I clapped my hands and laughed. “I knew Angels were real.”
Gran laughed at my reaction. “Oh, but wait,” she said. “There is still more to the tale. Although the Creator had promised to give them what they wanted, he was reluctant to grant their request. He had hoped they would remain as his special warriors. He also wanted to be fair to all his other Angels. So, He contemplated his decision with enormous care.
“Finally, reluctantly, He called the Guardian leaders to him and gave them his decision. Their wish to live among humans was granted, but, to be fair to the other Angels, who still obeyed him without question, He imposed strict conditions.
“The first was they must forgo contact with Him and other Angels on the Divine plane. Guardians were, in effect, banished to earth.
“The second condition, was that the Guardians must keep their identity secret from humans and live separately, so they wouldn't influence them as the Demorai had done.
“The final condition was that they had to act as protectors and helpers to humans with as much secrecy as possible. That was their work on Earth.
“There was a surprise addition, however. The Creator granted them an unheard-of favor, no doubt because he was so pleased with what they had achieved. He gave them free will -- the only Angels granted that privilege.
“The Guardians accepted the Creator's decision and terms and took up residence on Earth, in small secret communities. Groups of them live happily, in most large cities, to this day and are now known as the Urban Guardians.
“The Demons of the Underworld hate them for taking everything they wanted, and the other Angels look upon them with curiosity, and more than a little envy.” Gran smiled at me as I sat there looking up at her, delighted by the tale.
“That's the story my grandmother told me when I turned eight,” she said. “And that's the story you will tell your own grandchildren when they turn eight. It's a story told within our family for generations, because, unlike most humans, we have special knowledge of the Urban Guardians.”
My eyes felt heavy, and I was fighting sleep. Gran tucked me in and kissed my cheek. “That knowledge is a story to share when you’re older,” she said.
Too tired to ask questions, I snuggled happily under my blankets, thoughts and visions of Urban Guardians swimming through my head.
Life was simple then, and I felt safe with Gran. Everything was ordered and secure when I was eight. By the time I was fifteen, when Gran took me from school yet again, things were vastly different.
◆◆◆
Gradually I became aware the car had slowed down. Opening my eyes, I looked out the window into blackness. The headlights illuminated the road ahead, and all I could see was a dirt track. The car lurched as the track became bumpier. I had a bad feeling. Where were we?
“Nearly there now,” Gran said, brightly, as I sat up.
“Where is ‘there’?” I asked, my heart sinking further. The end of the Earth somewhere, by the looks of it. No sign of any civilization whatsoever, the only vegetation, an endless, desolate scrub.
We drove further down the dirt track in silence.
“Ah, here we are,” Gran said eventually. “I knew it was around here somewhere.” And we pulled up in front of a tiny wooden structure.
“This is your new home, Kat,” said Gran beaming as though we’d pulled up in front of a mansion.
“But Gran, are you sure? It's not a home; it’s no more than a shed.”
“Well, no one will find us here, dear,” she said. “That's why I picked it out. The real estate man was so helpful. It's remote and unbelievably cheap. Look on the bright side. And don’t forget, the trust fund won’t last forever. We have to economize.”
“How will we survive out here Gran?” I asked, a weary sigh escaping my lips.
“Oh, don't you worry your pretty head about that dear,” said Gran. “There's a river somewhere nearby. We can fish. We’ll be able to live off fish and maybe we can trap rabbits too. Growing vegetables out here will be easy, and such fun. The soil is fertile, I’m told.”
My heart hit rock bottom. Gran was getting worse -- obsessed by our imaginary danger and believing we were being stalked, she tried to keep us hidden. When she felt it was time to move, she’d become increasingly distraught until we moved on.
Somehow, I'd have to persuade her to go elsewhere though. We couldn't survive in this remote wilderness. I sighed again.
“It's all right Gran,” I said patting her hand. “Let's sleep in the car tonight. In the morning, we’ll hunt around and see what daylight shows.”
“That sounds like a good suggestion,” said Gran nodding. “You always were a clever one Kat.”
I'd need to be clever, I thought, knowing I had to take charge now. Poor Gran, ever since my parents died, she hadn't been the same, but now… she was just not coping.
At 15, barely educated, no training except for martial arts and useless mind tricks, I had no idea how I would care for us both. One thing was certain, I’d make a better job of it than Gran.
Chapter 2.
Seven Years Later Storm Clouds Gather
I opened my eyes and jumped out of bed. A glance at the window revealed the sky lightening up. Good enough. I could get my morning run in before daybreak at this rate. That way I wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone and I’d be back in time to get Gran’s breakfast before she woke up.
What could I wear? I switched on the light and rummaged around for something clean. Blast! My running gear needed a wash -- too smelly to wear again.
My hand settled on my pink tutu, my clean pink tutu, which I found it when cleaning out my closet the day before. On a whim, I put it on. I hadn’t worn it in years, but it still fit and brought back pleasant memories of dance classes. Good enough to go running in, and nobody would be around this early to see me, especially if I took the back streets and went down by the river as usual.
The morning was chilly, so I reached for my black cotton jacket, where I’d left it, flung over the back of the bedside chair. That would do. I could take it off and knot it around my waist if I got too hot running.
No sneakers -- they had long since fallen to pieces. Yet again, I reminded myself to get new ones. Oh well, black combat boots were good enough for everything else. They’d do to run in again.
Glancing in the full-length mirror, I raked fingers through my short, black curls, and smiled at my reflection. Not bad! The pink tutu combined with the black jacket was a nice touch. A little unorthodox perhaps, but so what.
Peering closer at my face, I saw no sign of the pimples that had plagued me as a teenager. At twenty-two, I still felt a stab of anxiety around my skin, hardly daring to believe my years of pimples were gone.
I crept through the house, out the front door, locking it securely, locking Gran in so she wouldn’t wander, and was off on my morning run. Already I had a favorite route and I loved the freedom of running alone through the early light of dawn.
The clear, crisp air promised a beautiful day, the sky glowing softly with the approaching dawn. Great, I took a deep, blissful breath. Energy surged through me, and I picked up speed as I neared the river.
Along my usual route, the peaceful river wound through the sleepy little country town, our latest home, the tranquil surroundings calming
my soul. Taking a deep breath, I gathered speed.
Four familiar, scruffy men lined up ahead just as I broke into a faster jog – Bart’s boys. I pulled up sharp. Bart must have learned about my early-morning runs.
It was only a small town, and I recognized everybody already after being here a few weeks. Bart had been pressuring me to join his group, but I had refused.
He was a petty criminal on the local scene. Stand-over techniques and drug running were his specialties, but I had no time for that nonsense. The moron fancied me, but the feelings were definitely one way.
“Bart asked you to come with us,” one of the group spoke up.
“No thanks, I've got other plans. I'm busy.” I started to walk away.
“Bart said if you don't come willingly, we have to bring you.” The man frowned, attempting a menacing look.
I laughed. The four guys were all weak cowards. Although they looked strong, like most bullies, if anyone stood up to them, they caved in like a bunch of scared rabbits.
“Do your worst -- clowns,” I said, still laughing.
Bart’s boys fanned out and tried to surround me.
A new threat appeared. At the edge of my awareness, I sensed movement. Turning my body slightly, I saw a man wheeling a motorbike down the embankment.
Nothing familiar about him -- a stranger. Was he friend, or foe? As a precaution, out of habit, I warded my thoughts. He put the bike down on the grass and stopped, watching from a distance, giving me a chance to focus on Bart’s scumbags.
I pointed to the nearest and yelled at him. “Hey, fart breath, you're covered in spiders. They’re crawling all over you. Snakes are coming for you now, you'd better run.”
Simple suggestion, a trick dad taught me when I was only four, but effective, especially against simpletons. The reaction would come soon. Keeping a straight face with some difficulty, I waited.
Sure enough, the man wildly brushed at his clothes, screaming in panic, even though nothing was there.
“Run,” I yelled. “They're coming for you.” He ran away shrieking, still beating and brushing at his clothes.
The remaining men drew closer. One laughed. “That’s only a trick, you can't fool me.” He inched forward, warily.
Time for the rough stuff. I ran at him. “Taste my boots then, dung bucket.” Grateful for heavy boots, I kicked him hard between the legs, and he collapsed, wheezing and struggling to breathe.
“Who's next?” I beckoned the remaining two men. The one on the left made a sudden, clumsy move, as if to distract me, while the one the right charged. I turned to face him as he lurched forward.
“Okay weasel face, want to taste my boots too?” Using moves dad taught me, I kicked him forcibly in the knees, first one then the other. Clutching at them and swearing, he went down, rolling on the grass.
The stranger had moved. Where was he? Panic seized me for an instant. Oh, there, behind the last man standing. He appeared to be talking to him. What was he up to?
I busied myself with the man whose knees I’d incapacitated, boxing his ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the last of Bart’s men backing away from the stranger looking scared out of his wits. The stranger appeared to be helping me. How about that?
I pummeled the man on the ground, and he cried out in pain. “Had enough, slime-bag?” I stood over him while he curled into a whimpering ball on the ground and held up a hand. In defeat
The stranger had moved again. I turned and pointed at him. “Stay away!”
“Hey, I'm one of the good guys,” he said raising his hands and chuckling.
“I don't care. Don't you dare come any closer.” I didn't trust him; he looked big and powerful. Not like the pushovers Bart sent for me.
“Don't worry, I won't,” he said, still chuckling. “You’re as intimidating as a room full of demons.”
That’s when I took a good, long look at him. For the first time, I noticed how tall and attractive he was, clad in black leather, his long coat open, showing a powerful, bare chest, long brown hair spilling over his shoulders. I wouldn't fancy my chances in a fight with him. Taking a deep breath, I drew myself up to my full height, hands on hips, my mouth taking over before I could stop it.
“And you're about as appealing as a hatful of turds.” The words tumbled out of their own accord.
The stranger grinned, his eyes twinkling. He meant no harm, I could tell now.
“Well then,” he said, “You're all right, I take it?”
Two of Bart’s men had run away, the others rolled helplessly on the ground in pain. I breathed out some of my tension. The stranger seemed harmless enough, so I relaxed.
“Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for your help, but I can handle things from here.” I brushed hair out of my eyes as my aggression melted away.
“Good to hear. I like the way you handled these creeps. Anything else I can help you with?” he asked.
He was polite and seemed like a genuinely nice guy. What a surprise!
I shook my head. Then my glance fell on his motorbike. “Wait, is that your bike,” I asked on impulse, pointing to where he’d left it on the grass.
The stranger nodded.
“I'd like a lift if you're able to.” What had gotten into me? This was not my usual behavior and Gran would not approve. I’d never been so forward with a stranger, but I was curious about him.
“I need gas first,” he replied. “Can you tell me where to find the nearest gas station?”
“Not far, I'll show you if you can give me a lift afterwards.” I was almost begging him. What was going on?
“I'd be happy to,” he said, inclining his head in a slight bow.
“Thanks,” I smiled, relieved I would spend more time with him. “The name’s Kat, Kat Spur.”
He grinned. “They call me Joe,” he said.
Chapter 3.
Joe’s Dilemma
Kat wore a short, pink flouncy skirt and black combat boots the day we met, and it epitomized the sort of woman she was, sweet, feminine but deadly when provoked.
As she overcame her would-be kidnappers, I was at a loss, totally confused. I picked up nothing from her mind. It was a complete blank. Somehow, I recognized with a blinding certainty, she wouldn’t welcome me charging to the rescue. She would take pride in fighting her own battles.
The Guardian bond tugged relentlessly at my heart as I watched her easily overcome her attackers. She’d be a challenge, but a challenge more rewarding than returning to the Demon world. This was what I had been created for, and happiness flooded my being as I moved closer, unable to suppress the grin on my face.
When we introduced ourselves, another surprise struck me. My nostrils flared, and the unmistakable scent of Guardian – mixed with human, but strong, struck me.
A hybrid, part Guardian, part human, I thought, wondering if she knew what she was. Then again, I reasoned, someone taught her to ward her mind, to fight and create illusions. How could she not know?
Again, I tried to read her mind. There was no way in; it was locked tighter than an imp’s hand. Whatever ward she had used was powerful. Someone had taught her well.
Once her attackers were subdued, she offered to show me the way to the gas station in return for a favor.
Leaving the riverside park, we walked together, either side of my bike, and I marveled at her fluid movements and graceful walk. She moved like an ancient Warrior Queen.
Although happy she had asked for a ride on the bike, now she was with me, uncertainty gnawed at me. It was so long since I’d been a Guardian to anyone, apart from Esau, I was as unsure as any rookie Guardian, of how to proceed.
Taking a deep breath, I decided just to go with the flow, as modern humans say. If this girl was in danger, she'd need me, and the bond that developed between Guardian and human, or in our case, Guardian and hybrid, would draw me to her. But would it, if she kept her mind warded? Anxious thoughts tumbled over each other in my head as we walked.
As the sun rose over the horizon, we
reached the gas station. I filled the bike up with gas and went inside to pay, taking the ignition key. I didn't quite trust this girl, and I didn’t want her stealing my bike.
I paid for the gas and walked outside. As I walked towards her, a familiar scratching played with my mind. She was trying to get inside my head and read my thoughts. Now I had a chance to communicate with her mind to mind, I’d teach her a lesson.
Why not try asking me what you want to know? I communicated with her using mindspeak. Her eyes widened in surprise and her head snapped around to face me.
Why don't you? she flung back with her own version of mindspeak. The words reverberated in my head.
She had me. I'd been trying to read her mind ever since I saw her. She had only tried once to read mine.
A sheepish grin spread over my face as I reached her. “Sorry. I can read most people's minds. In fact, I have trouble shutting them out, but you were unreadable, and it bothered me.”
She gave me an uncertain grin and her eyes darted around in suspicion. “Likewise, I do understand,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Why don’t we call a truce? We can keep our minds warded -- it’s too soon to trust each other. How about we get acquainted over coffee?”
Kat frowned. “I'd like that, but I must check on my grandmother; she can't be alone for long. I snuck out for a run while she was asleep and now I need to get back to see she’s okay.
Uncertainty clutched me again and I rubbed the back of my head. How would I get to know her? How would I gain her trust?
“I gather home is where you want to go then?” I said.
“Yes, please.” Her frown deepened, giving her a worried look.
I sat astride my bike. “Sorry, I don’t have any helmets.” I said. “Jump on behind me, and give me directions by mindspeak. It will be the quickest way.”
A giggle escaped her, and I realized she was little more than a teenager – so young. “Are you going to leave your mind unwarded for me to play around in?”
