Chloe's Guardian (The Nephilim Redemption Series Book 1)

by Cheri Gillard

  “Stop it. I have a boyfriend.”

  He shrugged. “That won’t be a problem.”

  “What’s wrong with you? Of course it’s a problem.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “All that beer is going to your head.”

  “I was just thinking of something enjoyable we could do together. I thought we might keep each other company. Dum viviumus, vivamus. I could show you a good time.” His voice was grumpy now. His words were slurred and unhappy.

  “You’re too old for me, for one thing.”

  He made a disgusted sound. “How old are you?”

  “Almost eight—seventeen. I’m only seventeen. I’m still in high school for your information. How old are you? Twenty-two? Three?”

  “Where I come from, almost eighteen-year-olds have families, run households, know how to have fun.”

  “Like I said, I’m taken.” If he hadn’t seen the thing too, she’d be out of there so fast.

  Horatius studied the girl while he sipped another beer. She was truly quite beautiful, in an unusual way. Not like the women who tried to look like a thousand other women, with the same straight flat hair, the same painted face, the same sameness. This girl was different. With a spark in her eyes. She might be a fun companion for a time of frivolity. If she’s not too impertinent.

  But her eyes would not turn from the sky. She truly was obsessed. Maybe it was a bad idea to say he’d seen the angel. His brain was not functioning at its best. Yesterday after he saved her and transfigured back to his human form, he went down off the headland and ran into a group of traveling graduate students. They befriended him in exchange for his endless supply of alcohol and exotic weed. Compliments of his powers of transmutation. He could change any matter into other matter.

  In the wee hours of the morning, he’d fallen asleep next to their van in the car park, but when he awoke, they and their van were gone. How could he have been so weak? He had vowed to himself after the last debacle when he nearly lost his head that he’d never touch drink again. But the group’s joviality was contagious and swept him up. Just one bottle turned to many, and before he realized, he had failed. Again.

  He looked down at the bottle in his hand and had to banish the impulse to feel self-loathing.

  It was when he awoke next to the empty parking spot—with a raging hangover—that he saw the girl again. She dashed out of her car and toward the castle so fast that, with his head pounding, he could barely keep up. Her eyes had captivated him when he’d caught her midair and set her down on the ruin ground. The connection they’d shared in that brief encounter intrigued him enough to go after her today. Watching her from behind a crumbled stone wall, he realized what she was doing and intervened before she threw herself off the precipice again.

  Getting her down from the cliff without leaping a second time would be his next redemptive effort. Perhaps that good deed would apply toward his penance and the Celestials would count it toward him as worthiness. But how might I cause a girl so intent on a thing to abandon her crazy notion?

  A do-over of this whole conversation would be good. If he could win her over, not only could he save her, he might even convince her to share dinner with him.

  “Shall we call a truce? I’m sorry if I offended you. I am especially good at that, and for that, I apologize.”

  A shrug of her shoulders was all he could elicit. He needed to get her to stop looking in the sky.

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “I don’t want to talk about them.” She shaded her eyes with her hand and studied a different section of the sky. She chewed on the end of her straw.

  “If I may, I have a confession to make.”

  “You have a problem with alcohol? You’re not single either?” The clouds had her attention and kept her distracted.

  He ignored her accusations. “Don’t get upset.”

  Her shoulders bunched toward her ears again.

  “I dare say, I didn’t really see what I said I did.”

  That got her attention. She spun around completely this time, spilling her sack of trash.

  “What do you mean? You weren’t here or you didn’t see my friends? What?”

  “No, I was here. I saw you. And heard you talking to your friends. You thought you saw something fly past when you started to leap. You stumbled, there was a strong upward current. The sun flashed. Clearly, you were upset. You could have imagined anything. You can’t be faulted for that.”

  She was upset now, that was certain. The plan was to distract her from the sky, not enrage her.

  “I. Did. Not. Imagine. It.” Her hands were on her hips. Her face contorted into sharp, outrageous furrows and ridges.

  “Things are not always as they appear.” Maybe she can be reasonable.

  “Why would you say that? What are you doing here?”

  Other tourists on the hill looked their way.

  “When I saw you in the car park, I followed after you.”

  “You’re stalking me?” she yelled.

  No, not reasonable. A man with a family turned from his wife and three kids, watching and listening like he was thinking of coming toward them. Horatius waved at him and smiled, signaling there wasn’t any problem. It took a moment, but he turned back to his family.

  “Calm down. I just recalled you from yesterday and wanted to make sure you were not distressed, that you were all right.”

  She turned toward the sea, away so he could not see her face. Her voice broke when she said, “Well, I’m not all right, okay?”

  This was all going wrong. It’s the drink. The potent brew masked his discernment and he just kept making everything worse each time he opened his mouth. He almost reached out to offer her a comforting hand, but then checked himself, realizing he couldn’t judge if that would be appropriate. He wasn’t even sure he could direct his hand in the right direction and not do something regrettable, the drink had so multiplied every image in his vision. So instead, he kept his hands to himself and brought up people he hoped would be pleasant for her to think of.

  “Say, what happened to your friends? They looked liked some amiable companions.”

  “Oh no!” She twisted around. “What time is it?”

  “I have no timepiece. Why?”

  “I have to get back. My plane!” She dashed away, then came back, grabbed her trash and flip-flops, contemplated the trash and tossed the bag to Horatius and ran away again.

  Finally—she turned her mind from the sky. Maybe now she would agree to let him take her to Paris. He tried to get up to follow after her. The ground teetered and the sky spun, but at least she wasn’t going to jump. He tried to brush pieces of grass from his Armani jeans, but he had trouble controlling his hands. Good thing I didn’t try to reach out to touch the girl. He looked to where she’d disappeared down the steps to leave, set his goal on reaching that same exit, and put one foot in front of the next to follow after her.

  The panic inside Chloe was growing. The airport was so far away. The rental had to be turned in. She flew down the stairs as fast as her sandals allowed, back up the steep incline, and on toward the parking lot. A gaggle of camera-snapping tourists clotted the path. She pushed through them. “Does anyone have the time?”

  Several shrugged and one waved his hands and spoke a different language at her. There’s no time for charades, you people! She squeezed past them and sprinted toward the car.

  When she got to the parking lot, she couldn’t breathe anymore and had to stop running. With her hand clutching the sharp pain in her side, she limped as fast as she could, huffing and blowing, to the car door. She pulled the handle.

  It was locked.

  She patted her pockets. Where are the keys? She remembered jumping out of the car to hightail it to the ruin.

  She held the flip-flops on the window like blinders to look inside and moaned. She ran around the car yanking on the handle of every door. Several times.

  They were all locked.

>   She ran around the car again, then settled at the driver door, pulling and yanking as though it would open if only pulled enough times.

  “Oh no! What am I going to do?”

  The tall Arab-looking guy came lumbering through the parked cars.

  “I locked the keys inside,” Chloe yelled. “What am I going to do? The plane leaves at two-ten. It’s already…Oh no! My phone is locked in the car!”

  “No need to panic. I will go to Stonehaven and find a locksmith. It won’t take long. It’s not even a mile away.”

  “There’s no time! Do you know what time it is?” she said, the panic keeping her from thinking clearly. “Don’t you have a phone?”

  “I would guess it is probably one-thirty. Don’t fret so. I will hurry.”

  “We should just break the window. Break the window! I can’t miss my flight. What am I going to do?” She sank onto the ground against the car, holding back the tears trying to spill.

  He smiled a sappy grin, like her life wasn’t falling apart. “No need. You might hurt yourself. I’ll be quick. I will be back before you know it.”

  He turned and disappeared behind a big SUV.

  How could I be so stupid? What if she didn’t make it back in time? Todd would be so worried if she missed the plane. No. I can’t think like that. I’ll make it. I have to.

  CHAPTER 6

  Horatius stumbled out of sight. He went as far down the row of vehicles as he could get and sagged against the tire of a parked truck. He was out of power and couldn’t let the girl see him transfigure. I’ll transfigure, recharge and sober up. Then he could change back and determine the best solution to correct the problem. He knew he'd come up with a plan. As soon as he cleared his head and got more energy. Then he'd do it all before Satarel had a chance to perceive his location.

  Horatius tried to clear his mind. By Hades, that was some powerful beer.

  He concentrated. It was difficult. Ah, there it is.

  He erupted into his celestial form.

  He barely registered his own change when Satarel materialized in front of him. There had not even been time to scan the Chatter for his father's proximity. Satarel’s flaming sword flashed. Horatius had a billionth of a nanosecond to move. And he did. He was out of the Chronos Band before the flame sliced through him.

  Satarel’s henchmen were waiting for him in the Corridor. The three of them formed a triangle of fire, each at a vertex with a wall of flame between each point. Fire filled the center. Horatius shot right through it.

  The canopy of fire sapped his strength. He fought to keep flying upward. Cursing, he combated the pain and depletion. In spite of his effort, his ascension through the heavens decelerated. He slowed and came to a halt. He hovered a mere second and started falling back toward the henchmen’s fire. Satarel flew in a circle outside the flaming triangle, waiting for Horatius. His murderous thoughts told Horatius his end would not be easy.

  What a fool I was to help the girl. He would lose his soulless existence because of her.

  Satarel lifted his blazing blade. It would skewer Horatius. Satarel was letting it take as long as it would, surely relishing every second.

  “Come on down, dear son,” Satarel said with venom. “I have missed your companionship.”

  Seven flashes of light suddenly appeared around them. The fire between the three henchmen flickered and extinguished. The Pure were interceding on his behalf. A good sign for his status.

  Or they just don’t like the Fallen in this sector right now.

  Whichever it was, Horatius would accept it—good luck or miraculous intervention.

  The Pure engaged Satarel and his followers in battle and Horatius continued to fall toward the Chronos Band. Though his speed was worrisome, he gained some control—enough to slow his acceleration through the dimensions and his reentry into time. A little.

  To avoid giving Satarel even one more second to track him, Horatius transfigured back into human form in an implosion of light the very moment he materialized in the corporeal realm. But his momentum threw off his calculations. I’m coming in too fast and too high!

  He crashed down and spun across the ground, rolling head over heels in a spinout, kicking up dirt and dried weeds. A tree abruptly stopped his forward tumble and he bounced back, landing flat on his back.

  Before he blacked out, he realized he had no idea where he was.

  ***

  Chloe paced around the car, looking every five seconds down the row of vehicles where the man had disappeared. He’d been gone several minutes. She wasn’t sure how many. But she knew it was too much. I have to leave now.

  A big rock was near her car and she snatched it up. She ran at the car and crashed it against the glass of the passenger window. The rock bounced off and flew out of her hand.

  She ran after it and picked it back up. The second time, she held on tighter and really followed through.

  The window cracked and crunched. But it didn’t get her into the car. And it hurt her palm. She switched the rock to her other hand.

  Another try made the glass bulge. She found a two-hand-sized rock and tried again. The window broke into pieces, clicking little squares of glass everywhere. She hammered at it with the rock, ignoring the bruises on her palms. When a hole opened large enough, she reached in and unlocked the doors.

  She raced around the car, opened the door and jumped in. Gravel scattered from beneath her tires. The clock glowed at her from the dashboard. It’s going to be way too close.

  Todd’s phone went straight to voicemail, the greeting broken up into scattered bits of his voice. She tried Kaitlyn, but as soon as it started to ring, the call dropped. Three more tries for Todd’s but the signal disappeared. She looked up and swerved back into the center of her own lane and sent a quick text to Kaitlyn that she was on the way, but it wouldn’t send. Ah! Stupid phone! She wanted to throw it out the hole in the window. Forty-five minutes to drive fifteen miles, turn in the car, and get into the airport. If she broke all the speed limits and didn’t get stopped or go off the road, she’d make it. Please make the plane be delayed.

  CHAPTER 7

  Chloe careened into the car rental drop-off twenty-five minutes before takeoff.

  “I need to do an express drop off. My flight is leaving.”

  The man standing at her window bent over and looked through the driver’s side over to the passenger window where a few shards of glass still clung to the frame of the window. She handed him the bundle of rental papers Tricia’s mom had left inside the car. He slowly reached for the cardboard sleeve then unfolded himself and walked around the car slower than Nana with her walker.

  “Come on, grandpa,” she mumbled. She hammered the stirring wheel with her fists. “Can’t you move faster?”

  When he got around to the broken window, he bent down again and peered through the hole at her.

  “Well, now. Seems you must have had a little trouble, uh...” He fumbled through the packet, searching for something. She wanted to get a hold of his slow Scottish voice and rip it out of his throat. He squinted at several forms fanned out in his hand. “…Mrs. Tao?”

  Uh-oh. “It’s a married name, okay? We got the extra insurance.” At least I think that's what Tricia said. “It will cover it, right? I need to go. I have a plane. It’s leaving any minute.”

  “Now, getting through security will take much longer than that. There’s going to be some paperwork here with me before you can even leave the car.”

  “Please! I need to go. Can’t you just take care of it for me? I can’t miss my flight.”

  He continued to stare through the hole at her for a moment. Or for an hour. She wanted to scream.

  “All right then, but I’ll need you to sign a form, then I suppose I will be able to take care of it. You should leave more time for these things you know. If you don’t have the extra insurance, if I run into any problems, I’ll have to put the charge on the credit card you used to rent the vehicle. It will just be added to your bi
ll and you will have to work out any problems you have with your credit card company. There is a Web address I can give you where you can check the status and see what kind of charge is added, if there is any charge added. It might be—”

  “Just get me the form.” There was no other option. She'd have to sign as Mrs. Tao. She grabbed the extra flip-flops and jumped out of the car.

  He sauntered to his station and picked up a clipboard. She snatched it from his hands.

  “Where do I…here? Okay.” She scribbled what she hoped would pass for Mrs. Tao’s signature. “There. Thanks.” And she sprinted toward the doors of the airport, ignoring the man calling out that he hadn’t given her the Web address.

  She ran all the way, in spite of her sandals flopping, even once she was inside.

  The security lines were too long. She squeezed past everyone, snagging on their computer bags and purses. Indignant glares and profane words tried to hold her back.

  Because she had no choice, she pushed ahead. “I’m sorry. My flight's leaving. I already went through. Excuse me. I’m sorry. Please. See? No luggage here. Just extra flip-flops. Excuse me. My plane is going. Excuse me.”

  She raced past a small group congregated at a desk, then ducked under a security rope. She threw her phone and Kaitlyn’s flip-flops into a bin and headed toward the metal detectors, ignoring all the complaints from other passengers.

  “Miss, you must stop. I need to see your documents first. Miss, come back here!”

  You don’t have to yell. Out of her back pocket she yanked her boarding pass and jabbed it at one of the guards. Guys, you don’t have to hover like this.

  The grumpiest guard snatched the pass and inspected it. “You can't jump the queue and run ahead like you did,” he snarled at her. “That’s how you get yourself thrown to the ground.”

  “I need to get to my gate. My plane leaves in—” A clock on a high cross beam down the corridor glared at her. “—seven minutes.” She had made it!

  “I need to see your passport, too.”

  “I showed you last time I came through, remember? I was with the blond with the viola?”