Reluctant Guardian

by Melissa Cunningham

  All eyes turn to her. Including my own.

  I watch her, riveted. Something about her captures me in a wonderful, yet terrible grip. Part of me wants to fall at her feet and beg for attention. Another part recoils with such revulsion that I desperately want to flee.

  That is when I see it. A dark shadow clinging to her skirt like a cloudy sheath of silk. It slithers around her legs, its grasping hands holding onto her with parasitic strength. It glances up and catches my eye, the darkness of its gaze drowning me as though I've fallen into a deep, polluted cesspool.

  I pull my gaze away, the awful smile of the shadow fiend still in my peripheral vision. Who is this woman? What is she doing here? And who is her sticky friend? The one thing I do know is that whoever she is, she's dangerous.

  And evil.

  “My children,” she says lovingly as she gazes at each member of the room. “It is right that you are here. I'm proud of you all. Especially our newest members.” She glances at Derek and smiles seductively.

  My soul recoils just a bit more. The candles in the room flicker and the walls that surround us glow with dark heaviness. Grim foreboding drifts over me like tiny poison snowflakes, stinging my soul where they land. The longer I'm here, the worse I feel. I have to get out, but I can't leave my brother!

  “When I first came here,” the woman says. “I worried we wouldn't find the numbers we required, but we have been rewarded by the diligence of our initiates in this city.” She smiles, grasping the edges of her cowl and sliding the hood back, letting it come to rest on her slender shoulders.

  Long, white-blonde hair falls around her cheeks and her light blue eyes glisten with heat.

  I can't look away, though I want to. She holds me spellbound just as she does the others in the room.

  “Tonight we have two who graduate to the next level of ordination.”

  She stretches her arm out to Jill, who steps forward. Jill kneels on a pillow at the woman's feet and bows her head. The woman takes Jill's hand.

  “Rise,” she says to Jill. “This initiate has completed her requirements in the Order and will now become an Adept.” The woman reaches for a folded black cloth that lies on the table behind her. Holding it up, the cloth unfolds into a long, silky robe, identical to her red one. She places it over Jill's head and lets it fall around her shoulders.

  With a slow sigh of satisfaction, the woman turns Jill to face the others. “Jill will complete her next assignment this coming week. Not only has she reached the level of Adept, but will also become the chief custodian of this chapter, being the first in this area to accomplish the tasks placed before her.”

  Silence fills the room as everyone watches. My eyes burn, yet I can't take my gaze from her. Jill radiates confidence, her chin jutting out, her chest raised in pride. She searches the small congregation, catching each person's gaze and holding it.

  That's when another ghostly being of wispy, gray smoke appears. It weaves a web around Jill's feet and gazes up at me with a smile that splits its faceless visage as it slithers up to her waist.

  One by one, the people in the room rise and approach Jill to congratulate her, including my brother. He steps forward as a receiving line forms. When Derek arrives before her, Jill takes his hand, her fingers threading with his. “May the dark one grant your desires,” she whispers, her eyes riveted to Derek's.

  He answers like everyone else has. “Likewise.”

  I reach out one last time and place my hand on his arm. Derek's fear and uncertainty ooze into my mind, and something else... something that alarms me to my very core. He's angry. He wants to lash out, to hurt someone.

  Me.

  I let go in surprise. This isn't my Derek. He's not vindictive or a grudge-holder. Doesn't he understand what I went through? Can't he forgive me? He can't pin his bad choices on me. His being here isn't my fault.

  Anger, like I haven't felt in a long time, well, for at least a few hours, erupts inside me. How dare he use my death to justify his joining this... this satanic fraternity! I take one last look, and leave.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ~Running Away, Again~

  Alisa

  I don't have anywhere to go, and I don't want to go all the way back to Idir Shaol. So instead of appearing in some strange place like Egypt—which is tempting—I decide to go back to Brecken.

  The mere thought of being in his presence twists my mind into knots of anxiety. Our last moment together had been a kiss. He'd kissed me. And the ache that kiss creates in my heart... It all rushes back—the light, the heat, the wonderful magic.

  And, heaven forbid, I want it to happen again.

  Questions ramble around inside me. Why did he kiss me when he has a girlfriend? Does Raphael know? Will he send for me? Will I lose my post? It's not like I instigated it, but I didn't stop it either.

  I like Brecken. Really like him. There is no way around it. I didn't plan this, but I don't want it to end yet either. Secretly, I wanted that kiss, and now I have to suffer the consequences. I have a job to do after all. This isn't just about life and death. This is about redemption and eternity... and a timeless existence in Soul Prison—surrounded by evil—if I don't succeed. And what will happen to Brecken? What is his destiny if I fail? I can't bear to think of it.

  Brecken, when I find him, is in the process of grabbing his gym bag and running out the door. “Where're you going?” I ask as he runs past.

  He stops abruptly and stares straight ahead. “Lacrosse practice.”

  “You play lacrosse?”

  He turns, facing the direction of my voice. Sunshine spills through the window, casting long shafts of light across his face. I'm pretty sure he can't see me, but he faces me square on, only a foot away. “I used to. There a problem with that?”

  His angelic-ness vanishes and his tone rocks me back on my heels. The force of his anger is like a physical blow. “No. I just never pegged you for a lacrosse player.”

  “Really? And just what sport do you think I'd play? Or am I such a loser that all I'd do is sit around like a pothead all day?” He smirks and walks out the door, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

  “Uh, well.” I can't think of a single sport I think he'd play. Not that he isn't athletic. He just portrays himself as the bad boy in a leave me alone kind of way. He doesn't scream sports. I follow him to his mom's car. He pulls out of the driveway, the tires shrieking.

  “Why are you driving so fast? Are you trying to kill us?” I hate it when people let their anger determine their driving. My brother does that.

  Brecken doesn't answer.

  I watch the road, one hand on the dashboard, afraid we'll crash. Not that I'd get hurt, but he would. “Why are you so mad?” I still haven't figured it out and can't seem to get past his porcupine bristle.

  With an audible sigh, he glances my way and then back to the windshield. “It's just... you took off. Again.”

  The look of hurt on his face and the guilt of my constant running is beginning to haunt me. “Oh. I'm really sorry about that.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  “What?”

  His lips tighten and he shakes his head slowly back and forth. “The kiss.”

  “Oh, Brecken, no. That's not it at all. The kiss was... well, it was... just wonderful.” I turn away, embarrassed to admit my feelings, and watch the trees zip past in a blur. “There's just the whole thing about me being dead that kinda puts a crimp in it.”

  “That's a minor detail,” he says, a slow grin spreading across his face.

  “Yeah. Minor.”

  “I thought maybe you were... disappointed.” He stares at the road stretching in a straight line ahead of us. “That seems to be what I do best lately.”

  “What? No.” I place my hand on his arm. “Not even close. And why would you be worried about disappointing anyone? I haven't seen you do that since I've been here.”

  “Oh really?” He glances toward me. “You've never been disappointed in me?”

  I th
ink back over our time together, the constant arguments, the constant frustration, the break-in, Jill. “Oh. Well, as your guardian, there are times when I'm disappointed, but then we work it out. You're totally not supposed to even know I'm here. It kind of messes everything up. It's much easier to influence people when they don't know you're around. As for the other stuff, well...”

  He glances at me again, rolling his eyes. “Well what?”

  “Never mind,” I say, suddenly shy. How can I discuss this? It's too new, too crazy.

  We pull up next to a cemetery.

  “What are we doing here?” I don't like cemeteries. I don't like dead bodies or the idea of people decaying under my feet.

  “This is where we practice.”

  “You have got to be kidding.” I follow him to a wide grassy area where no headstones have been placed yet. Fifteen other boys are there, tossing a lacrosse ball to one another. Some wear protective pads over t-shirts. Others wear their pads directly over their skin.

  “We tear up the park's grass too much so we practice here half the time.” He proceeds to take off his shirt and put on his shoulder pads.

  “I had no idea you were part of a team,” I say with an amazed chuckle.

  “I'm not. I don't play in the games. I don't have the money for dues, new gear, or any other fees. We're too poor,” he says with a sneer. “But the team feels sorry for me, and I'm pathetic enough to still want to come once a week.”

  The hardness in his eyes doesn't dispel the hurt in his voice. I hadn't realized how much he'd had to give up when his mom died. My heart breaks just a little bit more for him, but I can't stay in that aching place long. It brings up too many memories of my own. Instead I stare at his half-naked body, his muscles rippling as he fastens his gear.

  Surprisingly, his body doesn't disgust me like before. I don't know what has changed or is different, but his bare skin doesn't elicit feelings of revulsion. I don't associate the tanned skin of his chest with Mr. Roland or feel the need to hide. Maybe I am healing. Maybe Gram is right after all.

  And Brecken is beautiful.

  I've never seen him like this in broad daylight—his chest, muscles sculpted like a Grecian statue, his dark hair, glistening with streaks of auburn in the dense summer sun.

  I take a place on the sidelines and watch him stretch out with his team. Their goalie leads them around the cemetery in a brisk jog. After a couple of laps, the coach waves them in. They divide into two teams. Skins and shirts.

  Lacrosse seems like a game I would have enjoyed... with a body. It's fast paced, intense and full of constant action. Then an idea blossoms in my mind and a smile grows on my face. I close my eyes and re-appear beside Brecken.

  “Hey,” I say, floating next to him. A sheen of sweat dots his brow, but he isn't out of breath. He also doesn't answer me. I crouch next to him as though I am about to run the next play, which I am.

  He whispers, “Go away!”

  “No way. I'm gonna to help you get a goal.” I don't know a lot about lacrosse, but I saw a couple of games at my old high school. How hard can it be?

  The play begins with two guys in a face-off. The skins win the ball and it flies from stick to stick. Brecken guards the goalie, helping to protect him and the goal. A guy on the other team catches the ball and searches for a teammate. I sidle up next to him. “Pass it to the kid by Brecken,” I whisper.

  A frown creases the boy's brow, but he throws the ball to the appointed player. It passes in front of Brecken, who intercepts it with lightning speed, tearing off toward the other side of the field. He throws the ball to a teammate, who scores a goal. Cheers erupt and I dance over the field, monumentally proud of myself.

  “I told him to do that,” I call out as Brecken runs past me, back toward his goal.

  “What?” he says, almost stopping.

  “Nothin' man,” a teammate answers. “Get over by Dodson and we'll run that play again!”

  “Okay.” Brecken ignores me.

  I stay beside him, trying to influence one player after another. Not all of them listen, but most do, and by the end of practice, Brecken has made four goals. His team has eleven points all together. The shirts can't keep up. I giggle with glee the whole way home. “That was so fun!”

  “You didn't do all that.” He faces forward, his expression grim.

  “Most of it. All I had to do was whisper in their ears and they obeyed. It was fantastic.”

  His frown deepens and he grips the steering wheel tighter. “That isn't right. You shouldn't do that.”

  “Why not? It's why I'm here,” I say, returning Brecken's frown. “That's what guardian's do. Influence. I'm one of the good guys. Geez.”

  He glances at me, his eyes squinting. “Do you even know who the bad guys are, Alisa?”

  I ponder his question. “What do you mean? Bad guys are murderers, rapist, and child molesters. Yeah. I know who the bad guys are.” I can’t help but think of Mr. Roland or his tortured expression as he reached for me in Soul Prison.

  “That's not what I'm talking about.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” I don't understand why he's trying to ruin my good mood. I'm not ready to argue again. I want to go back to the fun, happy, romantic Brecken.

  “There are bad guys out there that are spirits like you... or something.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “There are no bad guys like me. If they're truly evil, they're in Soul Prison.”

  He shakes his head. “You don't get it. There are other... beings out there. Bad ones.” He glances at me again, his expression wary. “Don't tell me you haven't seen them.”

  Uh, no. I haven't. There are evil spirits around? Doing what? Doing what guardians do but in reverse? Trying to get people into trouble? I'm not sure I believe that. Then I remember the ghostly beings that had swirled around Jill and the lady in red. But those weren't real spirits, actual people, like me. They were more like slithery demons.

  “I haven't seen any spirits like me... who are bad,” I say hesitantly. I don't want to scare Brecken into thinking bad things might be lurking. He has enough problems as it is. “Bad spirits are held prisoner. They don't get to come here. I've seen it myself.”

  His snort tells me he can't believe I'm so naïve, and I don't correct him. “Hey, I'm just telling you how it is,” he says. “I've seen them. They're around.” He pulls into his driveway and gets out without saying another word.

  I follow, sullen and thinking.

  He throws his bag by the door and rummages for food in the kitchen, finding crackers and cheese-wiz. He sits on the couch and flips on the TV. I think about what he said, and about what I've seen, but he can't be right. Spirits would be aware of each other. Wouldn't I know if there was an evil minion trying to influence my charge? “So do you see evil ghosts? And if so, how often?” I sit down on the couch beside him.

  “Not as much as I see you,” he says, teasing and crunching loudly on a cracker.

  “Very funny.”

  “Well,” he begins. “They're more like shadows. They're dark. They don't glow like you, and they don't ever talk. They just watch me.”

  I ponder this. They sound just like the strange spirits I saw in the basement of that old house. They hadn't spoken either. They were just kind of there, seeming to silently suck the life force out of their host. “It doesn't make sense,” I say finally. “Who are they, and what do they want?”

  He glances at me, still chewing, and shakes his head. “I don't know.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ~Life Isn't Fair~

  Alisa

  The fact that Brecken is seeing other weird beings throws me for a loop. Totally confused, I know I need outside help with this one. Taking a mental breath, I close my eyes and picture Raphael's glowing face. A moment later, I stand outside his office door. The quick trip between worlds leaves me dizzy and for a moment, I rest against the wall. Then, before I lose my nerve, I rap on the wooden door three times.

  Raphael gr
eets me with a smile and a hug. “Alisa! How good to see you! How is everything?”

  As if he doesn't know. “Fine.”

  “Good, good. Have a seat.” He walks around his desk and sits in his chair, facing me. “So, you have some questions?”

  I have tons of questions. And I decide to get one off my mind that's been there since I saw my brother at that old house. “Yeah. First off, why doesn't my brother, Derek, have a guardian? Or anyone else in my family, for that matter? Aren't they just as important as Brecken? Isn't everyone? Why haven't I seen any other guardians since I've been on earth?” I stare him down, daring him to say my family doesn't matter.

  “Ah. Right to the point as always. How shall I explain?” he says mostly to himself as he steeples his fingers. “Everyone is watched over. Everyone. No one is left out... until they are past feeling. Past hearing. Too closed.”

  “My brother is not closed!”

  “I never said he was. Let me finish, Alisa,” he says with a sigh. “Your job is different than a guardian angel's. You are in the processes of paying back a debt. You don't get to fraternize with other guardians, nor do you get to see other guardian angels. You have to do this on your own, like penitence. Understand?”

  I nod slowly, starting to see the picture, but it isn't clear yet.

  “Since you are in the general area, we thought we'd let you help watch over your family a bit. I knew you'd want see them, and honestly, I don't see the harm in it, which is why I'm allowing it.”

  So visiting family isn't something everyone gets to do. Suddenly my heart warms toward Raphael just a bit more. “Thank you.”

  “As far as your brother goes,” he continues. “We are aware of his situation, but there are valuable lessons for him to learn. If he doesn't respond to our influence, there isn't much we can do. He'll have to learn the hard way.”

  I don't want Derek to learn the hard way. He deserves to have a wonderful, happy life with as little stress as possible.