Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1)

by Larissa Emerald

  “Oh, Daddy.” She hadn’t called him that in so many years. “I love you, too. Thank you.”

  He stood. “So where are we going to move it to?”

  Emma considered the grounds. “To the farthest point in the park.”

  “The men will arrive shortly. I’m going to scout out another location.” He nodded and trotted off, his lanky legs taking brisk steps.

  Emma treaded in the opposite direction, over to the tree. She sighed and sat by its trunk, tucking her thighs to her chest. She placed her hand on the black dried wood as if her touch would give it comfort. “It will be okay. I’m…I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

  As she rested there, waiting, she called out to Seth. “Angel, I need you. Get back here and help me fix this.”

  The air was silent and still. Nothing.

  “Seth,” she yelled.

  Then from behind her, “All right already. You don’t have to shout.”

  She scrambled to her feet and faced him.

  “Thank God.” She brushed her hair from her face. “I did this, so there has to be a way I can undo it.”

  “It doesn’t always work that way,” he said sadly.

  “Explain to me again my connection with the Divine Tree.” She lowered her head and peered at him through her lashes. “And don’t leave parts out this time.”

  After an indignant tightening of his lips, he began and went through her entire connection with Venn and the tree. Emma listened, walked around the ancient oak, and thought.

  Then an idea settled in her mind. “I…I think I know how to save them!” She met Seth’s doubtful blue eyes. “You must go fetch Venn and bring him here. Now.”

  If anyone was capable of getting Venn back here in an outrageously fast timeframe, it was Seth.

  She leaped up and jogged to the car to retrieve her purse. When she returned to the oak, Seth stood holding her mate in his beefy angelic arms.

  “Put him down here.” She knelt and dumped the contents of her purse onto the ground. Among them was a pocketknife—a multi-tool, to be precise. She flipped the blade free of the tool group and poised it over her hand.

  “What are you doing?” Seth inquired.

  She lifted a shoulder. “From what you’ve told me, my blood had something to do with a connection to the tree. It’s a farfetched guess, but I’m hoping it will be able to heal it, too.”

  Seth’s brows shot up, and Venn moaned.

  Without hesitation, she drew the cutting edge across her palm. Blood welled crimson, and she stared at red liquid as it seeped out of the wound, creating a pool in the bowl of her hand. When the hollow was filled, she made a fist and tipped her hand sideways over the largest tree roots.

  “Benison,” she whispered, copying the ritual she’d witnessed when Venn had taken her inside the tree.

  But she didn’t stop there. She dripped her blood over Venn’s pulse points, too, and then moved to a dozen other thick roots and repeated the anointing process. It couldn’t hurt.

  When she'd done all that she could do, she stood and faced Seth. Her arms hung limp at her sides, she was beyond exhausted. The archangel offered a sad smile. "I pray that it works." He stepped toward and wrapped her in a consoling hug.

  "So do I." She glanced at Venn passed out, resting on the DivineTree's roots. "Let's take hime home."

  * * *

  Two days after the statue was moved, Venn rose from bed and stretched. “What did you do?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  “Come. I’ll show you. I’ve planned a picnic. Henry packed a fabulous lunch.” She seemed anxious for him to dress and hovered over him in the process, as if he wasn’t progressing fast enough to her liking.

  “Here.” She presented him with his shoes. “I’m so relieved your strength is returning.” Her voice caught, and he glanced up at her. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she fought to regain control. “I thought you were going to die.”

  Driving his foot into his deck shoe, he stood and gathered her in his arms. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to deal with losing you. And the oak… Oh, the tree is awful.”

  He smoothed a hand along her back and nudged her toward the door. “Well, let’s go visit, then.”

  * * *

  She helped him out of the car and through the park. With every step closer to the tree, another ten-pound weight was added to his chest. This was not the look of a tree bare during winter’s icy passion. No, the Divine Tree appeared to have been scourged by fire and disfigurement. Venn choked back the bile that rose in his throat.

  The pain he experienced at the sight equaled what he’d felt when Emma had died before. An all-consuming, gut-wrenching need to scream at the heavens engulfed him.

  I’m sorry, my friend, he mentally intoned to Custos.

  He glanced over at Emma, and his mood lightened somewhat by the spring in her step.

  Thank God he didn’t lose her.

  She ran on ahead and spread the blanket. He eyed her long legs and the curve of her bottom as she bent over. Yes, he was healing well, and his body displayed just how much he longed to make love to her.

  When she stood, she brandished two mini bottles of wine. “We did this in another life, but it didn’t turn out so well. Let’s try again.” She held up her bottle for a toast. “To new beginnings.”

  “New beginnings.” They both took a sip from their bottles, then Venn threaded his fingers through her hair at the back of her neck, drawing her closer. “I love you. For all time. I love you.” His lips took hers in a long, possessive kiss.

  “And I love you.”

  When he finally let her go, she looked up with a breathless smile. “Mmm, it gets even better.”

  “Better?”

  “Yes, look.” She pointed, and he reluctantly slid his gaze from her lovely face to look where she directed him.

  There, reaching skyward from a root of the Divine Tree, was fresh shoot of green.

  Emma clutched his hand, giving it a squeeze that complemented the warmth filling his heart.

  “The oak lives,” his voice was thick, filled with awe and wonder and gratitude. “But how?”

  “I’ll tell you what I did later,” she said, a smile on her lips. “Right now, I want another one of those toe-curling kisses.”

  He was happy to oblige.

  EPILOGUE

  In the back yard at Venn’s mansion, near the bubbling brook that cut through the property, Seth and Claire Grant shared the new arbor swing fashioned from the dead branches of the Divine Tree. Venn had given the oak a “hair cut” as the guardian liked to phrase it and had brought every scrap of wood onto his property. In a matter of a few weeks, the revived tree had grown to eight feet in height. And so far, Seth hadn’t noticed any repercussions, any flood of evil in the world. That may be because Io had been confined back in hell. Seth wasn’t sure, and only time would give him those answers.

  Seth regarded the laughter Venn and Emma shared as they entertained Venn’s wolves and Izzy on the lawn. A new error was coming for the Guardians, he mused. He hoped a good thing.

  “It does my heart good to see them so happy,” Claire said with a joyful smile. Wiggling, she adjusted her posture in the seat. “Oh, the wind in my wings tickles.”

  Seth snorted. “That will pass.”

  “I don’t know that I want it to.” She grinned and poked him in the ribs with her finger. “Lighten up, will you?”

  He heaved a long, dramatic sigh. That was easy for her to say. Since she’d died because of Io, and the whole deal went down under his watch, she’d immediately earned an advanced angel status. Plus she’d been assigned to him as his assistant. Talk about punishment.

  On a positive note, Claire had used the option to knock some years off her appearance and he had to admit, she was quite a looker. He was glad she hadn’t gone really young, back to her twenties or anything. She’d just taken off thirty years or so, saying she�
��d earned every one of her life lines and was proud of them. But still, she had a fine curvy body and lovely wide smile.

  “So, have you given my suggestion any consideration?” she asked.

  “Which suggestion would that be?”

  She gave an exasperated chuckle. “Let’s hang around here and watch over the Divine Tree and allow Venn and Emma to have a real honeymoon.”

  “They’re not married,” he pointed out.

  “Mated then. A vacation. Whatever you want to call it,” she pursed her lips.

  “That’s never been done in the past.”

  “But you can do that, right? You’re every bit as powerful as a Guardian. Even more so. Just because it hasn’t been done doesn’t mean it can’t be.”

  “That’s not my job.”

  “Oh, please. No more excuses.” She stood, putting her hands on her hips. “Look on the bright side, Henry will cook anything you want.”

  He straightened and licked his lips.

  “Come on,” Claire said “Let’s go tell Venn and Emma.”

  Izzy romped over to Claire, drawing Venn and Emma’s attention to them. Claire lifted the dog into her arms where he proceeded to enthusiastically lick her face.

  “Oh my goodness,” Emma exclaimed the moment she saw her grandmother. Venn’s gaze followed. They met them half way across the yard and Emma threw her arms around her grandmother’s neck. “Grams. I can’t believe this,” she said, her voice growing thick with emotion.

  “Well, look at you,” Venn chimed in.

  Claire stepped back and twirled around. “Not bad, huh?”

  “Grams’s you look fantastic.” Emma swiped her fingers beneath her eyes. “Does this mean…does it mean I’ll get to see you sometimes?”

  “We’ll see,” Seth said.

  “I’m his assistant,” she chortled, clearly please with herself.

  “Congratulations,” Venn said with mischief in his eyes, then he raised a brow at Seth. “Have you seen the tree?”

  “Yes. It’s doing better than I’d thought.”

  “Okay,” Claire said, guiding them all in the direction of the house, completely taking charge. “Here’s the deal. Seth and I are going to guard the tree while you two go on a honeymoon.”

  “Vacation,” Seth chimed in.

  “Whatever. So go pack your bags?”

  Venn shot Seth an incredulous glance. “Really?”

  “I’ve been told change is good.”

  Venn turned to Emma, “Where would you like to go?”

  “How about France?”

  He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “France it is.”

  * * *

  The battered owl perched high in a tall pine tree, overlooking the saccharine scene below. Io ruffled his feathers as hatred rolled off of him like brownish steam from the dirtiest city.

  He wouldn't be able to chase them down himself due to an unpleasant punishment for his failure. But he'd already recruited support for his cause. Io gave a wicked snicker. Before he was done, everyone would learn to fear the Reaper.

  *****

  Stay tuned for the next book in the

  Divine Tree Guardian Series

  Awakening Touch

  to be released in September 2015.

  Read on for a glimpse of Awakening Touch.

  Excerpt from

  Awakening Touch

  by Larissa Emerald

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Why are you dying?” Ian Hearst ground out between gritted teeth as he plucked yet another fistful of shriveled leaves from an ill grapevine.

  His Guardian resumed walking the rows of trellised vines, touching the plants and inspecting the nearly ripened fruit as he went. When he reached his tethered horse, he mounted and rode away, consumed with his own thoughts. The extensive attention to detail showed in everything at Chêne Sacré Winery, from the handmade columns and light fixtures to the manicured lawns. Yes, Ian was a dedicated man to his hobby. He was enthusiastic about everything he did, actually.

  The Divine Tree stretched tall and full within the heart of a sprawling vineyard on the outskirt of Providence, France. Custos wiggled his roots even deeper into the ground and drank the moisture from the rich soil, allowing thirsty wood fibers to absorb the life-sustaining minerals held deep within the earth. The late summer sun warmed branches and the wind gently teased thick, green leaves. By the standards of most days, today captured the perfect essence of existence being just the way it should be, joyous, peaceful, and harmonious. The ancient oak swayed and bent as the breeze rippled over bark and stoked limbs.

  Days such as today should be cherished. The wisdom of the ages coursed through the vast catacombs of his being like electricity zinging through wires, igniting each synapse and particle of knowledge and history with a renewed life. He sighed, only slightly worried that Ian had become too distracted by his winery.

  Even though contentment should be coursing through every sliver of wood, a vibration of unease couldn’t be denied. So even as the day burned bright, the ancient oak turned within, sorting and filing and restructuring the indefinite quantity of files he held within. It was what he did to overcome that feeling of being…alone. He supposed that in his own way Ian did the same with the winery. The land had been his friend from the beginning, the very thing that had sustained Ian over the millennium.

  Still, Custos enjoyed the guardian’s company and daily visits. He pushed the thought aside, shifting the definition of black-hole energy further down into a leeward root. And so it went, moving and shuffling the secrets of the universe. Until something prompted him to stop and take heed.

  With an internal yawn, the Divine Tree became aware of unusual activity within the vineyard. People. No, there was but one human. The other was something else. He reached out with a tendril of energy. A reaper.

  Heavy gray clouds had brought darkness, covering the sun. But a Divine Tree didn’t need eyes to know this creature was the Dark Realm’s work. Although death was a natural part of life’s circle, there was nothing natural about a reaper. It took individuals before their expected time and claimed their soul.

  In desperation, a little girl, no more than five years old, ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. She squeezed through a small hole in the grape vines, and with a frantic burst of energy she stumbled forward, planting her palms against the ancient oak’s massive trunk. And with her small soft hands, she hugged the bark as if she knew it was her only hope. She tilted her head way, way back, looking up into the branches.

  Custos realized a tingling up into his limbs and deep into his roots. A special quality emitted from the girl. The old oak understood this immediately.

  Perhaps she considered climbing up with thoughts of a safe haven. Custos wasn’t sure. Her breathes came in ragged, labored exhales. More tortured than what a child’s should have been, even under the circumstances. Something was wrong.

  She started to cry and gasped sharply for breathes. She glanced over her shoulder, her vivid blue eyes round and frightened, her silky-brown, chin-length hair sticking to the wetness on her cheeks. Coughing, she stepped over roots as she moved around to the other side of the massive trunk. With a few strangled wheezes, she collapsed to the ground, her breathing shallow, lessening with every inhale. Her eyes slowly closed, then fanned open before closing again.

  The reaper bounded over the top of the vines, landing squarely on both feet. He tilted his head, taking in the situation.

  Custos moved roots through earth, encircling the child, pulling her closer. “You cannot have this little one.”

  “No?” The reaper laughed.

  “Go find a deserving soul.” Someone as wicked as you are.

  “Now where’s the fun in that.” At the sound of the reaper’s voice, the sweet girl moaned. Reaper leaned in, placing his index finger to pursed lips, he whispered, “Ssh.”

  With her back tucked snuggly against his base, Custos felt her heart slowing, stopping, dying. Wit
h the enormous effort of dislodging roots that had been in place for centuries, he moved one then another and wrapped her up and drew her down into the earth, where he opened a porthole and took her inside the catacombs of knowledge and to safety.

  “No,” the reaper howled, the eerie sound of echoing into the night.

  “She is not for you.”

  “It is her time. Could you not hear her struggling to breathe?”

  Custos shook every branch in fury. “She lives. Because I have the power to make it so.”

  Beside himself, like a dog who had just lost a well-anticipated bone, still salivating over the prize, Reaper stomped around in a circle and glared. Finally, realizing he had no immediate recourse, he changed into a scraggly buzzard and flew to a nearby tree, where he resumed his reaper stature and sat perched high in the top branches, cycle in hand.

  Knock yourself out, Custos thought, knowing Reaper would soon grow bored and go searching for easier targets. The critical task at hand was to find the right grain of knowledge to cure this sweet child of the killer illness named Cystic Fibrosis.

  In the meantime, his Guardian needed to know Reaper had some evil business afoot. Plus Ian would be able to see the child safely home.

  *****

  ORDER AWAKENING TOUCH

  *****

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  *****

  Larissa Emerald also writes steamy, contemporary romantic romance. Read on for a sneak peek of Winter Heat.