by Ford, Lizzy
Except for those who killed her mentor.
Amira stopped in place, the pang of heartache at the memory returning. How could people like Troy and Nathan lose their ways to the point they’d turn on their own?
Why were they after her? She understood what Shadowman wanted.
The subtle shift of the floorboards beneath her indicated Troy was drawing near.
She faced him, trying to push away her concern, but unable to dispel her worry and confusion.
He waved to get her attention.
“Who’s following you?” he asked.
She stared at him, surprised.
“Nathan called in a favor, which means he thinks you’re in the kind of danger only I can handle. So, who’s following you?”
She didn’t speak, not wanting to reveal what she was sworn to protect.
Troy closed the distance between them. She gazed up at him, silently stressing.
“Beautiful girl giving me that look – that shit won’t work on me,” he told her. “Answer my questions, or leave.”
Beautiful girl. Her brow furrowed. Most people she met focused on her disability rather than her face. Did he really think she was pretty? Maybe he hadn’t heard her say she was deaf?
Was it possible it didn’t matter to him? Amira was quiet for a moment. He wasn’t giving her the odd look – the one laced with pity that people gave her when they first met her. She’d grown accustomed to it and chose to overlook it, instead focusing on their uncertain smiles rather than the emotion in their eyes.
There was neither with Troy. He didn’t seem like the kind who smiled at all, but neither was he pitying her. What was he thinking?
He smelled clean, of cologne and deodorant, his warmth filling the space between them. Spirit guides radiated heat; it was a side effect of the energy they naturally channeled from the Other Side and the angels and humans around them.
There was something about him that left her feeling rattled. Safe but … self-conscious. She didn’t recall this feeling with her last spirit guide, Scott. What was it about Troy that made her blood race?
“Shadowman,” she replied. “Fallen guardian.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why is he after you?” His gaze swept over her slowly in a way that made her feel more nervous. “You’re a first gen.”
“I can’t tell you.” Amira shifted away from him.
“Then out you go.” He pointed towards the door.
She crossed her arms, sensing he was serious. He was a lot like Nathan in that regard – unyielding. Amira turned away and plodded to the door. She opened it and exited into the warm fall day, silently praying that Troy had some capacity for sympathy, even if he was no longer interested in being a guide or alive.
She walked down the stairs and past his truck.
She’d never felt scared of simply walking alone before, but since Scott’s death, she hadn’t had a moment where she didn’t sense someone watching her. The mental health center was a temporary reprieve and now, she had nowhere to go.
“God, Pedro, angels. I need a little help, please,” she said to the sky. “Thank you.”
Amira looked around, expecting to see Shadowman following.
He wasn’t, but she’d be hard pressed to hear him, if he snuck up behind her.
Hugging herself, she walked down the long driveway towards the road. She wanted to enjoy the beautiful fall day, the leaves that had turned brilliant shades of gold, maroon and pumpkin. It was hard to admire them, when she couldn’t help wondering if this was the last time she’d ever see them. If those following her didn’t get her, she still had to prevent them from getting her stones – or those of the others.
She reached the end of the driveway and paused, looking both ways.
She’d never felt so alone. Scott helped raised her and had always been there for her like a big brother. Now, there was no one. Nathan extracted her from the mental health center, but she didn’t have anything she needed to survive on her own: no credit card or an identification card to take to the bank for a new debit card. She had a cell phone she used for texting and a limited supply of clothes.
Dust tickled her nose, coming from the driveway behind her, and she sneezed.
Troy pulled up beside her in the massive truck. He leaned over to the passenger side and pushed the door open.
He was hard to read compared to a normal human. Spirit guides as old as him and Nathan knew how to control everything about their emotions and facial expressions. The normal telltale signs a human gave weren’t present.
He waved for her to get into the truck.
Amira went to the door.
“Troy, I can’t tell you why,” she said sadly. “It’s okay if you throw me out.”
Amusement flickered through his gaze. “Get your ass in the car. We’re going for lunch.”
She sighed and pulled herself up into the truck, closing the door.
He touched her lightly to get her attention. The heat of his fingers grazing her arm sent a different kind of warmth spiraling through her.
“I’ll never let anything happen to you. But know this: the more secrets, the harder it is to keep you safe. Understand?”
She nodded.
He held her gaze for a long moment then put the truck in gear and pulled onto the road.
Thank you, angels, she said silently.
He didn’t drive them far, just until they hit town, then pulled into a McDonald’s drive through. She sat forward, excited.
“I’ve never been here before,” she told him.
He eyed her.
“Sacred body. Pedro said McDonalds was off-limits.”
Troy shook his head and pointed at the menu.
Amira read the menu through once before he tapped her.
“Chicken nuggets,” she decided. “Milkshake.”
He nodded and leaned out the window, towards the metal speaker box.
Her eyes drifted to the menu again. Was he ordering or waiting? She couldn’t tell.
“Wait, Troy!” she said, taking his arm. “Cheeseburger.”
He glanced at her.
“Oh, and fries.” She shook his arm. “Troy? Fries!”
He gave her a harried look. “You gonna let me order?”
“Chocolate milkshake.”
“I’ll get you a few things. Just chill.”
Satisfied, she sat back. They pulled around to pay then went to the second window. She watched with fascination as the girl at the drive-thru handed Troy several bags of food. The scents filled the cab of the truck, and Amira’s nose wrinkled. It smelled… greasy, fresh, and delicious.
He’d gotten her a huge chocolate milkshake topped with whipped cream. She accepted it happily and took a sip, thrilled by the rich flavor.
She reached for the bags he’d placed between them. He batted her hands away.
“Wait until we’re home,” he said.
She did, content with her milkshake, at least until they reached his house. Amira grabbed the bags and hopped out, excited to sit in a real dining room after years in a tiny apartment.
“Troy! Go to the table!” she said and walked in the front door he’d left unlocked.
She didn’t check to see if he’d obey or not but went to the kitchen and opened cabinets until she found what looked like a new set of pretty plates. She grabbed a few and set them on the counter then opened all the bags. Cheeseburgers, chicken sandwiches, a Big Mac, nuggets, even chicken wings. He’d gotten them a feast, and she focused on the food instead of her worry.
After a few minutes, she took the plates into the dining room.
Troy was there, leaning against the back of one chair. He watched her place a plate down. It contained a Big Mac at its center on an artistically arranged set of fries. She’d put nuggets into berry dishes and stood chicken wings up on end in a small bowl.
She returned to the kitchen for her food and her milkshake then went back to the table.
Troy hadn’t sat. He seemed to be studying th
e food before he looked up at her. His dark gaze was intense, as if he was debating whether or not to sit down and eat with her.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.
“Starving.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Are those bowls for nuggets? I never knew what to do with them.”
She smiled and sat down. Amira started out with nuggets then moved onto a cheeseburger, mixing fries in as she ate. She tried everything before glancing up to see what Troy was doing.
He was toying with his fries, not eating.
Amira paused, studying him. There was a sadness about him she sensed but couldn’t identify. It was in the distracted looks he cast out the window, the hollows beneath his eyes.
“The nuggets are good,” she told him, uncertain what else to say.
His gaze flickered to her. “Yeah, I know.”
“Why are you trying to kill yourself?”
“Why are you lying about who’s chasing you?”
She flushed and dropped her gaze.
Troy shook his head. He picked up the Big Mac and took a huge bite.
Amira didn’t try to ask him more. She ate her dinner then cleared their plates and went to her room. She didn’t know why his words hurt, but they did. Maybe it was the idea of lying, another sin, but her secrets were dangerous. To her, to Troy, to everyone in the world.
She leaned against her door for a moment, gazing at the trees swaying outside the window across the room. An autumn breeze was making the bright leaves dance and pushing fluffy clouds across the blue expanse above.
It was a very serene setting. Troy had been seeking peace when he bought the out-of-the-way home. Why hadn’t he found it?
Was he lost, like she was? She never thought a spirit guide was able to lose his way, until a few of them shot hers. Troy may have lost his way, but he wasn’t hurting people like they did.
She sat down on the bed, sneezing at the dust that flew up. Waving it away, she pulled out her velvet pouch and dumped the stones onto the bed. Amira picked up hers and started to set it aside then gripped it in her hand.
She saw herself, seated on the bed, but this time, she saw something more. She saw Troy standing outside her door, staring at it, torn.
Opening her eyes, she gazed at her door.
What’re you trying to tell me? She asked the stone silently, not understanding why it would show her Troy, someone she’d just met.
Soul agreement. It was a feeling more than a whisper.
Amira gasped and dropped it.
She was meant to be here, but not for the reason she first thought. Helping Troy was an understatement. A rare few humans had a soul agreement – a promise between two souls to share their lives together. The souls were chosen and put together by Pedro and the guardian angel corps, sometimes as a reward for some great deed. The romantic, sweet angels had another term for them, one that had driven her jaded spirit guide, Scott, crazy. They called them OTLs – one true loves.
She had an OTL, no doubt her reward for carrying the stones.
Pure joy went through her, for angels couldn’t have soul agreements the way humans could. What better indication of her newfound status as a human than to be granted the ultimate blessing? Her initial emotion was followed by a much more somber one.
Troy was broken. Humans had free will, and he was choosing to try to die. Would it matter to him that she and he were destined to be together?
Her gaze went to the red stone, and she grew even more troubled.
There was one way to keep Troy focused. He had agreed to help her, because deep down, he was good. If she gave him another cause, she’d buy him time and maybe, find a way to keep him from succeeding at his death wish. She didn’t want to lose her OTL before she had a chance to experience what she’d left the angel corps to learn.
Replacing all the stones but the red one, she tucked the velvet pouch under her pillow and then rose, red one in hand.
Amira crossed to the door and opened it, momentarily speechless as she gazed at Troy, who stood outside her door the way she’d seen in her vision. Her body’s response to him made sense now.
Soul agreement. A destined, one true love. Her reward for millennia of service as an angel. Handsome, rough, muscular Troy was hers. He just didn’t know it yet.
“If I tell you what I’m hiding, will you tell me why you’re sad?” she asked.
He shifted his weight to the other foot, thumbs hooked through the loops of his jeans.
“I’ll go first,” she said and held out her hand.
He gazed at it for a moment then held out his. She dropped the red stone into his palm. Troy held it up.
“It tells me the location of a portal to Hell,” she told him. “If opened, a very strong demon will come out.”
He lowered it, staring at her.
“It’s what Shadowman wants from me.” She offered a sad smile. “Your turn.”
“Wait. Go back. Why do you have this?”
She shrugged. “I was chosen. There is one of me every generation who must safeguard this. It cannot go to the Other Side, because it’s evil. Neither can it go to Hell, or the demons will be able to get free. So someone must protect it here.”
He handed it back. “Does Nathan know?”
“Yes. He and Maggy know. But no one else does. Except Shadowman.” And the spirit guides who killed Scott.
“Why tell me? There’s a reason – actually more than one – Pedro stripped me of all my cases.”
“Because you’re a good man. I can see that.” Amira almost smiled. “Scott was all I had. He was … killed. I saw it.” She cleared her throat, mourning the loss of life and her friend. “I don’t know what to do, and Nathan trusts you. It’s not fair for me to ask for your help, if you don’t know how important it is.”
Troy said nothing for a moment. His sharp features were unreadable, his eyes riveted to her.
Amira waited, clenching and releasing the red stone, uncertain what he was thinking. Was he trying to decide if he wanted to send her back to Nathan to deal with?
Or did he suspect there was more she wasn’t telling him?
“I lost my daughter ten years ago and tried to quit. Pedro wouldn’t let me, so I fucked up so bad, he had to take my cases away. Won’t let me die, won’t let me work. I’m just … stuck.”
His story stunned her, first with the pain she imagined he went through and second, knowing he was stuck in a stage of mourning the loss of someone he loved. He was a spirit guide who understood that death was nothing but a stage and that no soul was truly lost. But he had human emotions and intuition, which meant he hurt, even knowing what he did about the Other Side.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her throat tight. The angel in her wanted to comfort him, and she reached out to take his face.
Troy stepped back, wary in the way many of the spirit guides were. Accustomed to dealing with evil to protect humans and incarnated angels, they were generally distrusting. Scott had been the same with anyone who wasn’t one of his to advise and protect.
She withdrew her outstretched arms and hugged herself, feeling his pain and hating that she couldn’t prevent it.
“Thanks,” Troy said. “Don’t leave the house. I’m going for groceries.” He turned away.
She watched his muscular frame retreat down the hallway and disappear down the stairs.
That didn’t go the way I expected. She stood in the doorway, trying to figure him out.
Returning to the bed, she checked the locations of Shadowman and his host. Lately, whenever she touched it, her instincts wriggled a little more insistently. It had something to do with the woman anchoring Shadowman, except she didn’t understand what.
Amira waited a short time then ventured from her room into the house once more. She walked to the main floor, paused, then went to the kitchen.
For a man who wanted to kill himself, Troy had a lot of knives. She gazed at the three blocks of knives on one counter, struck by an idea. Unab
le to figure out what the two-toned stone was trying to tell her, she could at least help Troy.
Amira set to work hiding all his knives, scissors and anything else sharp she could find. She searched the bottom floor of his house for more and went to the full bar off the living room. The cabinet behind the bar was full of expensive bottles of liquor, and there were more beneath the double sink.
She began dumping them out one-by-one, her nose wrinkling at the strong scent of liquor. Engaged physically in the movements of emptying the liquor bottles, she allowed her mind to wander.
If Shadowman could read the stones, could his anchor?
The thought struck her hard. What if the stones led her to his host so the innocent woman could help find the other two?
The universe, God and Pedro all had a reason for having an innocent woman involved. What if this was truly what Amira should do, instead of trying to send Shadowman back?
Chapter Fourteen
Kaylee changed clothes as fast as possible and went to her office, afraid of being home with Shadowman. Nathan had texted but she refused to answer it, not wanting anything to do with the strange man.
Shadowman backed off when she left her apartment and went to her workplace, and she paused when she walked in the door of the law offices.
When he was around, she hated his oppressiveness. When he wasn’t …
She felt like someone was watching her. Instead of standing over her, he was keeping his distance. Waiting for something. Like some sort of predator in the forest, watching its prey.
“Hi, Kaylee. Any word from Mike?” Linda called from the reception desk.
“Um, no. Not yet.” Kaylee shook off the feeling and smiled at Linda, continuing to her small office. She checked Mike’s office for signs he’d been there at all and grew more frustrated.
Where was he?
Returning to her office, she sat and stared at the computer screen. There were days when she didn’t mind being in her office and days she couldn’t stand it. Today was one of the latter. There were folders of cases requiring research on her desk and a dozen unopened emails, and all she could think about was Nathan.
