Fallen (Guardian Trilogy Book 1)

by Laury Falter

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his usual irritated tone had been replaced with genuine concern.

  “I-I don’t think so … No,” I said, mentally checking random parts of my body for pain.

  “Are you sure?” he insisted. “Shock sometimes masks the symptoms of an injury.”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure,” I said.

  “Good.” He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “That was a close one.”

  “What was?” I asked, not realizing my gaze was intently focused on him.

  He stared back, seeming to suppress a smile. “You didn’t notice a thing, did you?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “Is this going to be a regular occurrence? Keeping you alive?”

  I noticed his body was still covering mine, his heat intense yet comfortable at the same time. Worried that he could see the excitement swelling in me, I frowned at him. “You may have more luck if you avoided shoving me to the ground again,” I replied, wryly.

  He released a soft chuckle, and I could feel his ribs move with his laugh. Then, to my disappointment, he rolled off of me and chivalrously offered me a hand up.

  “So …,” I said, brushing the grass off my clothes. “Are you going to explain why you tackled me?”

  “You won’t like what I have to say,” he warned.

  “Do I ever?”

  “Good point …,” he conceded. “I was saving your life …yet again.” There it was … his grandiose arrogance was back.

  I shook my head in disbelief. It wasn’t possible. “From what? I’m on the grounds of a private school with security guards at nearly every corner. I couldn’t be safer …,” I paused to watch his handsome mouth pinch in disapproval of my defense. “Do you have a Hero Complex?” I asked, annoyed.

  He laughed whole heartedly at that question, not offended in the least. “I have a feeling you’ll regret saying that.” He glanced over my shoulder, and I turned to find a group of guys running toward us. “Just be more alert, will you?”

  “Of what? You still haven’t told me why-”

  “I think I’ll let your friends here explain,” he said, looking over my shoulder again.

  When I followed his gaze, I saw that the group of guys sprinting in our direction had nearly reached us. Each of them was carrying a bow in one hand and an expression of fear frozen on their faces.

  “Are you alright?” One of them asked.

  “At least he has …,” I said, turning back to Eran. My voice trailed off once I realized he was no longer there.

  Eran disappeared again … in the middle of an open field … within seconds of me looking away.

  Embarrassed, I slowly turned back to face the group, noting that many of them exchanged apprehensive looks. Someone from the front of the pack cleared his throat before speaking what was probably on everyone’s mind, “I’m not so sure ….”

  “I think … maybe … she should go the hospital. Have her head checked,” said a short guy with dark hair – I thought I remembered him from my first class.

  “Actually, I’m fine …,” I confirmed, to the sea of disbelieving faces.

  However, given that this kept happening between Eran and me, I began to wonder if the hospital wasn’t such a bad idea. “Really, I’m not hurt. No need to go to the hospital,” I repeated, exasperated.

  An older man ran up behind the group; he was a bit more overweight and clearly out of breath. He wore a jersey with his name, Coach Acer, embroidered on his chest, and I recognized him as one of the coaches I’d seen talking to the school’s athletes at lunch.

  “Young lady … are you injured?” he asked between gasps. Bending down, he grabbed his knees to support his body weight.

  I was going to get very annoyed if that question kept coming up. My response was resolute, just to set the record straight. “Absolutely not.”

  Still heaving for air, he said, “That … that’s good. Where’s the … arrow?”

  The group of guys began to spread out, their focus on the ground, scanning the area surrounding us.

  “Arrow?” I said, though the words barely escaped my mouth. Is that what all the ruckus was about? “What arrow?”

  “The one that almost hit you,” muttered one of the guys, milling around.

  “Oh,” I faintly replied.

  One of them bent down and stood up triumphantly. “Got it!”

  He brought it back to the group, inspecting it along the way. “No blood ….”

  “I told you … I’m fine.” I laughed, uncomfortably. “You really thought that hit me?”

  “No, we saw it hit you,” corrected the guy that was holding the arrow. “You fell to the ground.”

  “I was actually push ….“ I stopped, allowing my words to trail off. I knew they would never believe that Eran had just been here a few minutes ago or that he caused my sudden plummet into the dirt.

  It dawned on me, Eran had been right. He once again saved me. I didn’t want to admit it, but if he hadn’t been here, and the arrow hit just the right spot, I could have easily been critically injured.

  I laughed, apprehensively. “You know … whoever shot that arrow should know he’s not all that great with his aim.”

  The guys began to chuckle, and someone mumbled, “Expert archer … yeah, right ….”

  “Expert archer?” I repeated, curiously. I’d heard that same term earlier today. My mind filtered back through the day’s events, but someone else in the group was faster.

  “Achan … he’s definitely no expert.”

  Hearing his name made my body stiffen and my breath stop. Achan, the one who stared at me, with brazen hatred, in The Warden’s office and called me out, with obvious delight, in Mr. Morow’s class (both for no apparent reason) had shot that arrow at me?

  My guess was, Achan actually was an expert and if Eran hadn’t been here to divert my body, Achan’s aim would have easily hit its intended target.

  “Where is Achan?” Coach Acer furiously called out.

  “Probably ran off … embarrassed,” someone heckled from the crowd.

  Coach Acer grumbled something and then he addressed the rest of the team, “Okay, show’s over. Back to practice!”

  The group turned and began to head in the same direction they came from, but the guy who’d found the arrow stopped beside me and held it up for me to see. The razor-sharp edges of its blade winked eerily at me in the sun.

  “You’re lucky, you know. These were just sharpened today, for the first practice.” He shook his head, stunned. “Probably would have killed you, if it had hit you.”

  I nodded, but truthfully, I was more focused on calming the fear, still trembling inside me, than on formulating a response.

  Whether intentional or not, Achan’s action had certainly threatened my life, and I couldn’t help the nervousness I felt at the prospect that there was more to Achan than I knew.

  “Thank you, Eran,” I whispered. Even if he couldn’t hear me, just saying the words pacified the regret swelling up inside me; the lament that Eran had warned me about. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hammering heart. I knew I would never confess my feelings to him directly, but I was still glad he had been there.

  On my way home, I kept myself alert; relaxing only as I pulled into my driveway. Ezra was the only one home when I walked inside.

  “Maggie?” she called out.

  I walked down the hall and stopped at her office door, wondering if Coach Acer had called her about the incident.

  “Yeah?”

  She was sitting behind her desk, centered between a stack of papers and a steaming mug of coffee. She was also smiling, so I guessed no call had been made. Relief washed over me, because recounting what happened at school was not a welcomed idea.

  “How was your first day?” she asked, attentive yet untroubled.

  No phone call had been made. I was now certain.

  “Fine,” I said, repeating the same word I’d used on the field because it was the only one that came to mind.
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br />   “Good. Did you like your teachers?”

  I could see she was hopeful, so to tell her the cold, hard truth would only be cruel. I opted for honest, yet vague. “I’m still getting to know them.”

  “Hmm.” She nodded, thoughtfully. “Did they give you homework?”

  “Lots …,” I sighed. “Already …,”

  “Then I won’t keep you. I’ll call you down for dinner.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  That meant no prep work for me tonight. In light of my discernable lack of culinary skills, I traditionally performed all cutting and measuring in addition to dish washing. I decided to still pitch in on the dishes after dinner, but it was nice not to have the other responsibilities tonight.

  I headed upstairs to begin my homework feeling a dark cloud settle over me. I knew it wasn’t from the disappointment of having an immense amount of work awaiting me for the first time in months. What had me concerned was the feeling that all was not right. After today’s events, I felt on edge.

  I threw my backpack on the bed and slid down beside it, staring through the French doors, across the balcony, at nothing in particular.

  With thoughts swimming through my mind, I didn’t move for a very long time. While both curious and terrifying, they all revolved around one single notion. I was incapable of comprehending how Achan - a person I had just met and barely spoken to - wanted me dead.

  CHAPTER FOUR: ANSWERS

  The field incident was the third time that Eran had intervened to save my life, and there were similarities between each event that I could not deny. He had appeared instantly and disappeared just as fast, without making a single sound; no one acknowledged his presence or gave the impression of being able to see him; and he was always left unmarked and unharmed by the assailing weapon.

  It didn’t take me long to determine what I needed to do. But first, I had to manage through unavoidable formalities. At dinner, my rush did not go unnoticed. I shoveled the food from my plate to my mouth at such speed it made Felix proud – and I wasn’t even sure what it was Felix had prepared. Before anyone else was finished, I had already started the dishes, scrubbing hard and rapidly, trying to get them done. That, too, was not overlooked.

  “Someone has a bit o’ the fear in ‘em …,” Rufus pointed out, coming up behind me and taking the sponge from my hand.

  “Are those teachers already loading you down with work?” asked Felix, incredulously.

  I sighed, thinking of the Calculus questions that would undoubtedly take me several hours alone to finish. Rufus, who must have seen my reaction, stepped between me and the sink, slowly pushing me out of the way. “Git on with it then.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Git,” he repeated, more firmly, already dipping his hands in the wash basin’s soapy water.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “You are wonderful.”

  “I know it,” he replied, simply.

  I was still chuckling at him, as I closed the door to my bedroom and sat down on my bed. It was enormous and amazingly soft, so I laid back, sinking down until the covers encased me.

  My Calculus homework lay directly next to me; the edges of the paper tickling my forearm, teasing me. I was torn. Homework should have been my first priority, especially since what I was about to do would very likely be a complete waste of time, anyways.

  There was no possible way I could conjure someone to my bedroom. It was an irrational expectation. Eran was human, flesh and blood, incapable of knowing my unspoken desires. I was going to end up exhausted from my attempt, embarrassed at myself for trying, and feeling rejected by Eran – all this and he wouldn’t even know I was attempting to reach him! The idea was so ludicrous; I almost gave up before I started. Despite how crazy it seemed, I still laid there debating whether to take the sane approach and delve into the mountain of homework that awaited me or choose the alternative and follow my curious desire.

  I groaned, knowing that eventually my desire to see Eran would win; so I finally gave in.

  Five minutes, no longer.

  I wiggled deeper into the fluff of covers and got comfortable. I was going to need uninterrupted concentration to pull this off, the kind that’s very difficult to achieve after a long, trying, tiring day. Still, the thought of seeing Eran again helped me overcome my anxiety.

  Memories of him flashed through my subconscious. His beautiful, scintillating face was so clearly defined in my mind, I felt like I could easily sketch him. The presence of his conceit was undeniable, always there, barely submerged beneath the surface…annoying me. As these memories broke apart and dissipated, I wanted to reach out and keep him with me.

  I could not understand why he had such a strong pull, so much command, over my emotions. It wasn’t fair, even if it kept me intrigued. There was something about Eran that I could not figure out. Eran…who did not live in my neighborhood or attend my school…had the uncanny ability to suddenly appear whenever I needed him.

  As ridiculous as it made me feel to admit, none of this made any sense. This is precisely why I was calling him here.

  The real question, however, was…how? How did one summon somebody to their bedroom?

  Think, I told myself.

  Eran appeared only when I was in trouble, or more precisely, when I was about to be in trouble. What plagued my mind was how he knew. There was the possibility that he followed me, but I discarded that thought almost immediately. I was observant enough that I would have seen him. It could have been dumb luck, but that seemed out of the question. Too improbable. Regardless, being in trouble seemed to be the key. So I concentrated on how best to create trouble for myself. This would be difficult, especially in the comfort and safety of my own bedroom.

  Think…think….

  I laid like that for several minutes, trying desperately to come up with something, anything, that would put me in danger, but short of burning the house down, I came up blank.

  I was sure my five-minute time limit had passed long ago, so despite my disappointment, I resigned myself to the failure, opened my eyes, and sat up in a huff.

  And there he was.

  Eran stood directly in front of me - at the foot of my bed - smirking.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to sit up again,” he stated in his captivating accent.

  We were inches away without a single part of our bodies touching, invisible currents of excitement charged between us. If he was breathing, I didn’t notice, but my breath was trapped in my lungs for a punctuated minute, as we continued staring, at each other, silently, hesitantly.

  I recognized that my head was beginning to swim from lack of oxygen, which he must have noticed too.

  “Inhale, Magdalene,” he coaxed, softly.

  I finally allowed my lungs to open, enjoying the cool, refreshing feeling as they filled up. Still, our eyes were locked, and I nearly shook with the thrill of having him so close. Surprisingly, I was able to contain it.

  He watched me curiously, unmoving, as I collected myself.

  “How-how did you get in here?” I asked, finally able to formulate words.

  “Weren’t you interested in seeing me?” he responded, being only slightly troubled.

  I was uncomfortable with the fact that he called me out, but denying it would do no good. It was obvious to me now – though I had no idea how I achieved it – that he had come because of me.

  “How did you get in here?” I repeated, feeling stupid.

  “You have a trellis up the side of your house.”

  “I do?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t look like you’re in mortal danger so did you need something else specifically?” He lifted his eyebrows, insinuating.

  I hesitated, uncertain of wanting to go through with the line of questioning I brainstormed. But I knew, now was the time to ask them, or I may never have another chance. Given Eran’s unpredictability, there was no telling when he would show back up.


  “How did you know I wanted to speak with you?” I demanded, quietly.

  “Ah, that …,” He took a step back, leaning against the dresser Rufus gave me so I’d stop hogging the bathroom. His hands curled around its edges, allowing his muscles to expand across his shoulders and chest, straining against the thin, black sweater he was wearing. I was momentarily distracted.

  Regaining my composure, I asked, “Are you going to answer me?”

  “I wasn’t sure how.”

  “The truth always helps,” I suggested.

  “No…that’s not what I mean…” He seemed to struggle for the words to explain. “I’m…I’m not sure how I do it.”

  It was clear he was as frustrated as me. I gave him time, glancing around my room and noting that I hadn’t picked up a single stitch of clothing in what looked to be a week. I made a movement to begin straightening up, and make my room presentable, when he began to speak.

  “Typically, I don’t feel you. Most of the time there is…nothing. Then, something happens. It’s either a slow build up or…or an intensely quick response, but suddenly I’m overwhelmed with a feeling that I can only attribute to the sensation of panic.”

  Oddly, I was able to discern that he just uncannily described every instance of fear that I was beginning to sense these last few days. I nodded, asking him to go on, and waited.

  His eyes dropped to the floor, flitting back and forth, as if they would reveal some understanding of what he experienced.

  “Then I have an uncontrollable need to find you, to protect you.” His eyes were usually so certain, but now, so confused, rising back up to meet mine. In a rush of words, making me think he was slightly embarrassed to announce them, he declared, “I can think of nothing else then until I see that you are safe.”

  “But you came tonight…even though I wasn’t fearful, or in any danger.”

  “Right, I did,” he said, still perplexed. “Tonight was different. I…I felt a…yearning. From you.”