Eternal Guardian

by R. G. Alexander

  The older man shook his head. “No, that is real. And I should warn you that here, you’d best be wary of reflective surfaces, mirages and the like. No matter how tempting, worse things can happen than a singed hand if you stray too close.”

  “And the woman? The voice?” Damn it, just thinking of her made his body ache. Made him recal the feel of her hands on him.

  Her mouth. The sweet, wet heat of her tongue curling hesitantly around his cock. He clenched his jaw.

  Silas smirked. “The bright one? Oh she’s real as wel. And it seems she has plans for you, yes?” He chuckled darkly. “But can you—can any of us—live with the price that might have to be paid for what she wants?”

  Max watched Silas stand and stretch, trying to make sense of his words. The other man yawned. “I think I need to take a walk.

  You’re safe enough here, son of Elam. My apologies…Max. Sleep if you can. If you are as stubborn as I think you are, you’l need it.” Alone by the fire, Max stood and paced. He had heard of Purgatory. Baal himself had been sent by the Mother and the god of twilight to such a place. He trusted Silas, so he knew the woman had not lied. Baal was not here. But Max was.

  Not a dream and not dead, but trapped nevertheless. The frustration of it burned in his veins, straining his patience, making him want to below. To fight.

  He felt it then, the power that ran through him. The true essence of what he was that had always been tightly controled. But what did his years of training matter here? There was no human to shock, no Trueblood to be intimidated. Why not let it out?

  His muscles expanded and he watched with the first sense of satisfaction he’d had since waking as the towering ruins shrank until he was eye level with the tops of the thick columns.

  He was glad he could stil do it. Adrenaline pounded through his veins and he reveled in the strength that dwelt inside him.

  It was a strength that served no purpose here. No purpose but to show him, with help of the false moon’s light, that al there was as far as he could see was red desert. It stretched out into forever. If this was his mind’s recreation, as Silas insisted, then there was definitely something wrong with him. And there had to be a way out.

  He wished he had paid more attention to Regina’s conversations with Priestess Magriel. Or Lux’s lessons when he was a healer in training. This wasn’t that different from dream walking after al. He just needed to focus. To understand why he was here, in particular. Why, of al the beautiful things he’d seen in his lifetime, his subconscious taken him to this? Something endless.

  Lonely. Harsh.

  Was that what he was, what this place saw when it looked inside him?

  What she saw?

  Perhaps she was right. Hadn’t he secretly envied the lives of his charges? Somewhere in the hidden part of his heart, hadn’t he heard whispers of discontent at the thought that his life was set?

  That he would stand alone, a watchful guardian with no one to see him, love him as Truebloods and Weres loved their mates?

  Max looked ahead and saw an oasis in the distance. The rays of the moon shimmered on its surface, drawing his gaze. There was movement inside it. Silas had warned him to stay away from reflective surfaces.

  He looked behind him. Silas had disappeared from view.

  “Some walk. I bet he took the first mirage out of this place,” he muttered. He turned back toward the pool of water and heard it again. The screams. Agonized screams. Sounds meant to instil horror. Terror. Even in this form, he felt a chil. His large fist curled at the remembered pain that had folowed that sound.

  Rabasa.

  Her voice was in his head again. Her voice, along with that distinctive scent of apple blossoms and nutmeg. “What? Is that you?

  What did you say?”

  They are called Rabasa, Maximus. And they know you now. They’ve tasted you and they are watching. Beware.

  “Where are you? How can I find you?”

  Keep moving, Maximus. Soon. You’ll see me soon.

  “Damn,” Max snarled, focusing on relaxing his body, regaining his usual six foot six height. “Not only desert but demons as wel. Where the hel is my sword?”

  He noticed it leaning on a falen pilar beside the fire and smiled. There was no doubt it was his. At last. Something was going his way. Now he would find his way out of here. He would fight whatever beast was watching him and get to her. And when he did

  —when he found this “bright one”—he would find out why he’d been brought here. He would make her show him the way home.

  Or insist she make good on the unspoken promises of her touch.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Oh. Hello, Max.”

  Max took a surprise step back. “Lady, how do you know my name?”

  The tall redhead sighed. “It’s a long story.” He watched her look up the stairs to greet Lux and his brow furrowed. Another memory, but this time, he knew it was a dream. He’d fallen asleep on the desert floor, sword within reaching distance, ready for anything since Silas had yet to return.

  He followed the dream as it took him up the stairs to the rooms above Haven, watching as Jesse began to describe her own dreams. The dreams that had brought her to them with knowledge it was impossible for her to have.

  He remembered being suspicious. The regret he’d felt for slipping the sleeping draught into her drink, as duty commanded. He’d had to learn how much she knew, who she’d told about them.

  When he’d realized she wasn’t lying, that she’d been sharing Kit’s dreams, knew everything Kit knew and would have to be taken to his people for judgment…he’d been torn.

  “Torn because you wanted to spend more time with me from the moment you saw me? Torn because you were jealous of Kit?”

  The dreamscape changed and they were standing in the desert ruins once more. Just he and Jesse. She was as naked as he’d been when he woke up here.

  “Jesse?” This felt different. Like Silas, she looked real.

  He tried not to stare at her voluptuous curves. Had they found a way to communicate with him after all? Jesse was a demigod, but Silas had said no gods could come here. Perhaps she’d found a loophole. “Is it you?”

  Jesse tilted her head and smiled. “You want it to be me.

  Just the two of us, alone. No Kit to come between us, to keep you from taking me.”

  That did not sound like Jesse. “My oath keeps me from taking you. My honor. You don’t belong to me.” She stepped closer, shoulders back, smile seductive.

  “It’s only a dream, Maximus. In this dream I am yours.” Her hand reached for his, lifted it to press against her heavy breast.

  “In this dream you can see me. Touch me. Anything you want.” His fingers tightened around her flesh, his cock hardening instinctively at her words. He could do anything he wanted to Jesse. Could take her the way he’d watched Kit take her. Make her wild for him. Fill her again and again while she called out his name. His.

  He could smell apple blossoms.

  He pinched her nipple between his finger and thumb, just enough to get her attention. “I know this is just a dream, but it’s mine. In my dreams, I do see Jesse like this. More than I’d like to admit. But she doesn’t call me Maximus. And she would never turn away from Kit so easily. Not in a million lifetimes. You aren’t Jesse. What is it Silas calls you? Bright one?”

  A male voice seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once raised Max’s hackles. “He’s good, this Igigi. Not even gods are meant to see through our defenses.

  Giants must be particularly cynical creatures. Or maybe it’s just this one.”

  Max growled. Taking his hand from her breast, he turned and reached down for his sword as he took a protective stance in front of her. “Show yourself. Are you the Rabasa she warned me about?”

  A masculine chuckle made Max snarl. “I am no Rabasa, Igigi. I belong here. I cannot say the same for you.” He seemed to direct his next words to the woman currently disguised as Jesse. “Can we send him back now?
Surely you must see—”

  “Enough.” Max turned around and took a step back, startled. She’d begun to transform in front of him, from Jesse into the woman he thought he’d created in his dreams.

  She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her skin was now, unfortunately, covered in a sheer white gown, obscuring her figure. Her hair changed from russet red to the color of strawberries warmed in golden sunlight. It blazed around her head like a silken halo, falling well past her shoulders. It framed an angelically delicate face with wide, ice-blue eyes and a perfect mouth. The mouth that was currently frowning sternly toward her invisible accomplice.

  The reminder of the other man quickly put an end to his musings, and he put down his sword and crossed his arms, waiting as she said over his shoulder, “I will handle this. You must get back now.”

  “Trust me.” The bitter tone was unmistakable. “The last thing I want to see is this man’s dreams. His memories and urges are bad enough. But it’s not safe for you, not even in this way, to stay too long.”

  The silence and the relaxing of her shoulders told Max the man was gone. He knew what he felt was jealousy. This woman was not Jesse. She was his dream. His fantasy. She could not belong to another.

  “He is a part of me, Maximus. But I am not his. We do not…we are not—” She shrugged her shoulders. “We are not mated.”

  “Max.”

  Her slender, elegantly arched eyebrows furrowed.

  “What?”

  He stepped closer. “My name. I prefer Max.” She bit her lip. “I knew that. I should have known that.

  I apologize…Max.”

  Max kept silent until she shifted, obviously uncomfortable with his intent focus. “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m waiting for you to tell me your name. Maybe even what you are, where I am and why I’m here.” He made no attempt to hide the temper in his tone. “ You can also explain who you were talking to. No hurry.”

  She mimicked his posture, though her crossed arms seemed more protective than defiant. The move made Max feel like an insensitive ass.

  “I was planning on explaining everything to you once you transitioned. It is just taking you longer to adjust than I anticipated. I’ve never dealt with your kind before. Other than Silas, but he is special.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “My kind? Igigi? Do you have so much distaste for my people, then? Other than Silas, of course.”

  She shook her head. “No, no. Not just Igigi. I meant…

  It’s hard to explain. I’ve never had to do that before either.

  Explain.”

  There was no way she could be as sheltered as she seemed. “Let’s start with your name and we can take the rest more slowly.”

  She was blushing again, her embarrassed gaze dropping down to stare at her hands. “I don’t actually have one.” Max reached out to grip her chin gently between his fingers, lifting her head up to study her face. Now he was thoroughly confused. “What do you mean, you don’t have one?

  Everyone has a name, bright one.”

  She sighed, leaning into him for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping away from his touch. “We don’t. I don’t.” She shook her head again, her expression searching, as if seeking out the right words. “I suppose you could say I don’t really exist. Not in the way you define existence. You’ll understand soon. But now I should go.” He lowered his hands to her shoulders, pulling her close before she disappeared. “You exist. I can touch you. This time I can touch you.”

  She shuddered in his arms, her gaze clashing with his.

  “It’s just a dream within a dream. You aren’t really touching me at all.”

  “Then you won’t feel this.” He kissed her. He had to.

  Those full lips, shimmering with moisture and her own incandescent light, were calling out to him. Drawing him in.

  The taste of her was instantly addictive, and he opened his mouth wider, slanting his head to taste more. Take more.

  She responded, her body curling up into his as if it had always belonged there. She was real. She had to be. She was the only thing in this insane place he understood. She made him feel.

  One hand slid down her side to cup her hip, lifting her until she was flush against him. The fabric between them was a thin barrier, but it was still too much. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and he growled, gathering up her skirt in his fist so he could feel the heat of her thighs.

  She made a sound of surprised arousal at his touch, tearing her mouth away from his. “Max, I can’t. You don’t know what I—”

  Before he could kiss away her hesitation, the screams interrupted them. He knew those screams.

  They were coming closer.

  “You need to wake up, Max.” She was struggling in his arms, shaking him. “This isn’t a part of the dream. They shouldn’t be able to do this. It must be a consequence of your arrival. They can sense your weakness. That you haven’t transitioned yet. “

  “The Rabasa? What are they?”

  Her eyes were wide. Fearful. “They are the shadows lurking in doorways and dark corners. They dwell in the Desert of Anguish and hunt when a soul is out of place. Out of time.

  They are hunting you, Max. And it is all my fault. Wake. Up.” He roled to his feet, sword in hand, flinching at the loud cries that assaulted his ears. It was stil dark, but now the darkness was moving. Unnatural. Alive. Rabasa?

  Max slowly stalked backward, eyeing the darkness, searching for a discernible figure. Eyes. But saw nothing.

  They can’t fully form there. They are weaker. But they can still hurt you. Kill you. Be wary.

  She was stil there. Stil in his head. He scanned the horizon.

  Where was Silas when he needed him? He could use another warrior at his back. Shapes like five-legged panthers and frail, malformed men formed a circle around him and Max smiled in spite of his situation. Finaly. Something to fight.

  “Wel, you’re not much, but it’s a good thing you came along.” He lifted his eyebrows in chalenge. “I was worried I might get rusty.”

  They didn’t respond to his taunt with any hesitation or change in their screaming. The sound jarred Max to his bones. He was realy looking forward to stopping that noise. Preferably at the point of his sword.

  When one of the dark, oily figures came closer, he slashed it with his swing designed to maim. He felt his sword connect, and its keens did grow louder, but it didn’t fal. It was wounded, but Max could see the tear he’d made healing even as it slinked back to join the others.

  He heard a screech behind him and roled out of the way, barely avoiding the predatory Rabasa that had pounced. It grazed the back of his neck, and Max roared in pain. Just one touch, but it felt as if the creature was puling the soul out of his body.

  What in the name of the Goddess were these things? They hunted beings that were out of time and place, she’d said. Like Max. He vaguely recaled a similar story from childhood. But then al stories meant to scare children told of something in the darkness, just out of view. For humans, Max always imagined it was the Igigi they were sensing, since his kind had the ability to walk through the world unseen.

  They were getting bolder. Circling tighter. Max attempted to move into the shadow space, a talent Kit had taught him long ago, but nothing happened. Perhaps because this place itself was out of sync.

  Out of time?

  They used his distraction to strike at him again and he shouted in anger and pain. He used his sword to slice through his unusual adversaries. Blows strong enough to kil any enemy.

  Damage was done, but nothing fatal. They, on the other hand, were leaving lasting impressions. He hated to admit it, but he could feel himself weakening. Death by a thousand cuts.

  His weakness fueled them. The Rabasa nearest him seemed to be attempting to grow larger, thicker, their cries deafening. Max sneered, frustrated. “Don’t go showing off. You’re not the only one who can do that, croucher.”
/>   Show them, Max.

  He listened to her advice and alowed himself to stretch into his skin once more. His true Igigi skin. It made him a bigger target but his flesh would be tougher. Perhaps more resistant to these unusual beings.

  The risk appeared to pay off. The Rabasa cowered at the size of him. Their screams grew more panicked, the vibration less effective on his thickened bones. Interesting. The one thing that didn’t grow with him was his sword. A broadsword was as useless as a sliver of wood for a fuly formed Igigian warrior. His fists usualy more than made up for the lack of weaponry.

  He didn’t need them. In moments the Rabasa had slid away as if they’d never been, his size enough to send them running. He took several thundering steps toward them before watching them disappear into the water of the nearby oasis, the rising sun’s rays seeming to burn them into nothing.

  “Anticlimactic, yes? I was looking forward to an old-fashioned wrestling match. I had no idea they would be so skittish.” Silas. Max’s hands clenched into fists. He’d been looking forward to it as wel. “Why?”

  “Why did they run?” Silas shrugged. “They can’t last long here. No reason for them to. They’re much more powerful on their home turf. If you weren’t as strong as you are, it wouldn’t have mattered. Though I warn you, until you decide to accept where you are, you’re vulnerable.”

  Max relaxed, letting himself return to normal size with a sigh. “A feat which would have been easier had you told me I was with the Horae in the first place.”

  The elder Cyclops blinked in surprise. “Did she tel you then?”

  Max shook his head, picking up his sword and walking away from the ruins. He’d been putting it together, little pieces at a time. Silas’ reaction confirmed his suspicions. The Watchers of Time. The Greeks caled them Horae, or the Hours. They were in charge of seasons. In charge of time itself.