“How do I destroy her?”
Jonathan looked me over, from my boots to my pendant resting on my chest. “You do not. You are a child.”
“I am the Defender.”
“You are a fool. I should terminate you now to save you the trouble of dying later when she finds you.”
“As I said, you can try, or you can tell me how I can kill her.”
His lips twisted as he studied me. “With that.” He pointed at the black stone, his gaze narrowing at the offending object. “And with my help.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because I hate her, and because I am yours—your personal demon. I will always be near you. I will always desire you.” He looked at me almost lovingly. His voice lowered into a whisper. “I knew you were special. From the first moment I saw you, there was something different about you.” His head tipped to the side. “My Sarah, once so lost and confused, now Ava Matthias, the Defender of humanity.”
“How do you know my new name?” I asked.
“It’s not really new, is it? The Fallen have known the name of Matthias since the beginning. Ava, the daughter of the once great Rachel Matthias.” His neck snapped erect, his eyes narrowed. “You should know, in the end when it’s all said and done, I will undoubtedly betray you.”
I considered his warning. He was telling the truth. I could sense it in my heart. But what did I care? I was using him. He had been the catalyst into this new realm of guardians and demons. I would never forget that. I would get what I needed: my insider’s view into the enemy’s territory. He would be my guide to the Annihilator. After I learned how to fight and how to use my new weapon, I would find her. And then, I would kill her.
And if Jonathan got in my way, I would kill him too.
Acknowledgments
I could not have finished this book without the love and support of my family and friends:
To my husband, Dan, who spent many
hours reading my work, as well as allowing me to act out all of my fight scenes on him to ensure the integrity of the material. He has endured it all with dignity.
Many hugs and kisses to my two wonderful
boys, Kyle and Micah, who keep me going, and
encourage me to never give up.
To my critique group, Jill Burgoyne and
Kate Stradling. This novel would not have been possible without you both. I have become a better writer because of our group and been blessed with the gift of your friendship.
To Sandra Udall, who encouraged me to continue writing and who gave me the desire to re-do it all over again, and again, and again.
To my mom who has read this book more times than me, I love you.
Sneak Peek
Read on for a glimpse of
PERSONAL GUARDIANS
The second book in the
Personal Demons trilogy.
1
Compound Bully
The cool morning air nipped at my neck and arms as I circled the compound’s courtyard. The smell of freshly fallen rain filled my senses but did little to boost my darkened mood. I nonchalantly stepped down from the beautifully designed and paved steps of the square to the flat ground in the center. My new combat boots squished into the mixture of dirt, dust, and water as the sky above, pregnant with dense clouds, threatened to burst with a rumble.
Do I seriously have to do this? I growled from a dark place, before silencing the frequently embittered voice.
I shifted my step, adjusting my stance to that of my partners as we claimed the attention of the entire square. The small group of early attendants stopped in their work to watch the unfolding scene. Heat flushed to my face, and despite the cool temperature of the morning, sweat already trickled down my chest dampening my black ribbed tank top. I could feel the comforting metal of my mother’s pendant, hidden from view, resting against my skin.
My opponent, who crouched impatiently at the opposite side of the muddied arena, became my focus. Stopping a yard from where she stood, I inclined my head in an effort to show respect, despite the fact it was a lie. It’s what I had been taught by my father and I would honor his teachings even if her responding smirk was infuriating. When I got the chance, I would rip her grin right off her face.
Sharp, ice-blue eyes scrutinized, her silver-blonde hair cropped short at the jaw line, making her features look severe and even intimidating, but it was just a smokescreen. Camouflage to hide whatever was lacking beneath.
“Breathe, Ava,” instructed a voice from behind and it took me half a second to realize Laith used my new name.
Sarah Mathis was dead, after all, a fact I had to be reminded of several times before today. I was now Ava Matthias, the Defender of humanity, one of The Three, and best friend to The Heralds. The muscle below my brow twitched. This little bout was their idea. I would make them pay for it soon enough. Somehow.
During the prior week of my forced recovery, the residents of the compound began to trickle in, returning from their information search and from handling the details of my fake death. I was asked to stay separated from the group until Laith and Elisa could return from Arizona, dealing with some unfinished business that remained behind. They were back by the end of the week.
A day before their arrival, I met Charlotte after one of my late evening walks around the complex. I was surprised by the commotion of raised voices followed by a loud bang as my door was thrown wide and an unfamiliar female stormed into my room, Darius hot on her heels. She roughly pushed his hand away as he tried to stop her by the shoulder.
I stood as a young woman, not much older than myself, stopped only a breath away. My brow raised and I stared down at her from my five foot eight-inch elevation. She, a whole three inches shorter then myself, turned an even brighter shade of red seeing my delight.
“So, this is her?” she asked, regarding me with a piercing eye. “This—this is our Defender?”
She spoke only to Darius, as if I was no more than a simpleton, but glared at me in a way that suggested great personal offense. As I watched her interesting reaction to me, I thought she could be pretty, if not for the ugly inflamed splotches exploding upon her face.
“Surely, this must be a joke and one you must set straight now.”
“It’s no joke, Charlie,” Darius said, concern etched in his words. “This is your Defender.”
She scoffed. “This girl has no right to be given that title. She is not worthy. Something has to be done to stop this imposter. I was—”
“Enough,” Darius shot out, but then leveled his voice. “A lot has happened but you and I will discuss this later. I promise.”
He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder and I could feel my face flush red. Who was this stranger and since when did Darius say anything nice to anyone? Apparently this girl was a witch with magical abilities, able to control even the roughest of beasts.
The return look she gave him spoke volumes. She trusted him, cared for him. I wondered just how long they had been together and how anyone could have feelings for a man such as Darius.
She glared at me with an evil glint to her eyes. I realized, with a twist to the gut, she reminded me of the group of possessed girls that had once attacked me in the bathroom of a restaurant, and I instantly hated her. Witch indeed. Despite my rising anger, I reined in my tone.
“I’m sorry I do not meet your level of expectation,” I said, through a clenched jaw. “And who are you, might I ask?”
She looked to Darius, apparently offended I had addressed her without permission. Eyes wide, she responded. “I am second in command here.”
“Second in command of—the compound?” I asked, sounding confused.
“Of security.”
“I see. In that case shouldn’t you be, oh I don’t know, checking the perimeter or something useful, rather than occupying space in my room?”
Darius had to escort her from my chamber just moments later. I admit I could have handled things better than I did, but I was provoked. A
nd I didn’t care.
Laith’s solution when he returned? To make us sparing buddies. Brilliant. But I had to give it to him. This would be a quick way of establishing who was the Alpha and who was the weakling. In my mind, there was no doubt.
Laith cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to the present.
“Charlotte is trained in hand to hand combat, Ava. We are going to start there, assess your powers, and see where additional coaching is needed.” I nodded my understanding.
From the corner of my eye I could still make out the dark black lines of Laith’s tattoos. Although mostly concealed under a plain black t-shirt, they stretched from under his collarbone, down both arms, chest and back. His green eyes were the only color against ivory skin and jet black hair.
Next to him, Elisa stood with her arms crossed, her long wavy hair, pulled into a tight blonde bun on the top of her head. Her usually sun-kissed skin looked pale as she silently watched, and my heart went out to her, longing to comfort her. She was so caring, so loving. Laith and Elisa were my only true friends and they wanted to help me. Despite my angst over this match, I knew they were right. I needed training and I needed it now.
A row of four men, ranging in age from their early to late-twenties, lined one side of the pitch behind their champion. I knew them to be Darius’s security team, and now Charlotte’s cheering squad. How sweet. They watched me with narrowed eyes and guarded expressions—except for the largest of the group. He looked almost bored.
“Keep it clean, Charlie, and pull your punches,” Darius ordered from his perch on top a tall planter enclosing one of the courtyard trees. His thick, windswept hair laid messily across his brow, his unkempt beard growing past the stubble phase.
At that moment, with the breeze playing in his locks of deep chestnut brown, he looked almost young, maybe in his early twenties, but he was too severe making him appear older, and although his honey-colored eyes seemed bored, I knew the head of security was taking in every detail.
I tried to ignore the fact that he was attractive—annoyingly beautiful, if I were being honest with myself—but I did my best to overlook that detail as I narrowed my focus at him. I wondered just how much he was enjoying himself at the moment.
When his gaze caught mine, his face hardened. Strong jaw muscles flexed as he measured and weighed me against his champion.
“But the enemy won’t pull their punches,” Charlotte replied in a venomously sweet tone. “Would it be fair to teach our Defender a false sense of strength when it could mean her life—or the life of another?” She lightly shuffled forward, tilting her head to the side. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ava?” she asked, receiving a snicker from one of her comrades.
Taking another quick step, she threw a mock jab that was slow and sloppy—her apparent opinion of my unrevealed skills. But I was already done with this game. Blocking her punch, I slid my hand down her forearm, grabbing her by the wrist. I yanked hard, pulling her forward, and hit her in the face with the back of my hand. A satisfying sting on my knuckles and a grunt from Charlie caused me to smile.
“I won’t, if you won’t,” I quipped, releasing her.
She took several steps back, lifting a hand to her now bleeding nose. Unexpectedly, she grinned and with a twinkle in her blue eyes she sprang, knocking me away with a muddied kick to the stomach.
I rallied quickly, launching into the ring, fists flying. As we battled, I acknowledged Charlotte’s skills were near equal to my own, her strikes lightning fast, her kicks, strong—but so were mine.
Deflecting a downward blow, Charlie grabbed my wrists and threw me. Landing on all fours, I crouched low in the mud and as she lunged for her final blow, I raked a handful of mud, flinging it into her face. She bellowed as it flew into the eyes, momentarily blinding her.
Taking full advantage, I rushed my opponent, tackling her into the muck. Straddling her, I placed a strong hand on her neck, applying only slight pressure.
“Do you yield?” I yelled, raising my fist high.
She looked at me through dirt-caked makeup. It took all I had not to laugh at her murderous expression.
“You cheated,” she hissed.
Warning her with a look, I lowered my face, bringing it closer to her ears.
“But the enemy won’t fight fair,” I said sweetly, using her words against her. “Would it be wise to teach your Defender a false code of conduct when it could mean her life—or the life of another?”
I released Charlotte’s neck, crawled from her prone form and stood.
Covered in mud, I trudged toward Laith and Elisa, ignoring their looks, disregarding the jibes from Charlie’s fans, and completely avoiding Darius altogether—not wanting to see their honest reaction to my dirty win.
As I passed Elisa I could have sworn I heard her say, “Nicely done.”
About the Author
Rachel Collett is a genuine Jill-of-all-trades. Born in Mesa, Arizona, she was never satisfied with staying in one place, working in one profession, or even pursuing one degree at a time. As a student for life, Rachel has loved learning in a multitude of disciplines, but in 2009, writing became her true passion.
Personal Demons is a drum of action partially spawned from Rachel’s real life experiences, including military service, Survival (SERE) Training, years of martial arts, and living in a haunted house. Rachel still resides in Mesa, Arizona with her husband and two children.
Photo credit: Elisha J. Schabel with Elle J. Photography
Find out more at
rachelcollett.com
Also by Rachel A. Collett
Personal Guardians (Personal Demons Book 2)
Personal Demons Page 28
