Guardians (Chosen Trilogy Book 2)

by David Leadbeater

  “As I said. Weak. Pathetic. Garbage.”

  Again, my body shuddered in nightmarish reaction. One of the boots lifted and I rolled out of the way just in time. I struggled to my knees. Behind Asmodeus I spotted Lucy. The demon had ignored her, disdainful, not realizing she was an elemental and one of the Chosen. I saw a dancing wall of water split into several flowing funnels as her eyes turned white. I saw Ethan’s fangs elongate at her side.

  Then Johnny flew past me.

  “No!”

  When I say flew, I mean it literally. His wheelchair had somehow been lifted into the air and propelled at terrible speed, high in the sky, fast becoming a speck. It was almost as if a bungee cord had somersaulted it up from the ground. Natalie screamed and ran forward. I stared helplessly.

  “No.”

  My heart skipped. I had a second to wonder if I might somehow save Johnny by calling up a cushion of air, a force-field or some damn thing, but then Lucy unleashed her water bomb and we were all smashed off our feet.

  Our companions made it over the edge of the sinkhole, back into the fray.

  I coughed, tried to clear my eyes. The demon still stood, though was hunched over and dripping with water. I saw it send a regretful glance toward the members of Aegis climbing over the edge of the hole and then that terrible smile came back.

  From a jacket pocket it produced a tiny box, some kind of trinket box overlaid with emaciated scrawls. It looked ancient. It looked like an artefact.

  Damn! We were too late.

  “The end draws near,” it hissed. “Prepare yourself.”

  It shot away, scrambling on all fours but traveling faster than a car, a nightmare vision of scurrying arms and legs dashing up the middle of the road.

  I turned desperately, Asmodeus already forgotten. “Cheyne!” I screamed, pointing at the skies. If anyone could save Johnny now, it would be the witch.

  Cheyne looked up, but there was no stopping the bullet that plummeted toward her. Barely one word crossed her lips before Johnny Trevochet’s wheelchair smashed into the ground at intense speed. Steel, plastic and metal parts blasted away from the point of impact, a blizzard of sharp parts and zipping fragments. I barely managed to lift my arm up before several particles tore into the sleeve of my jacket right in front of my face. The sharp sting of broken flesh made me wince. Several other objects pierced my jeans, but thankfully none of them drew blood. The crash and reverberation of the wheelchair’s landing blasted our eardrums, but mercifully masked anything else until I heard Natalie Trevochet’s screams split the night apart.

  SIX

  Ken strode ahead through the acerbic byways of hell, a mismatched group of warring heroes at his back.

  Past abandoned building after abandoned building they walked, treading carefully through the wild foliage and sometimes having to walk through entire derelict structures. Within the crumbling walls were strange skeletons, terrifying skulls and vertebras, all made oddly even more chilling by the presence of shattered glass everywhere—the human touch. An empty elevator shaft. A boiler house. Once, even a battered desk. The group’s mood quickly changed from one of optimism to fear and quiet fatalism as they walked through the cataclysm that had once been a form of earth.

  The miles passed beneath their feet. The somber mood stopped all conversation and Ken was soon left with his own uncharacteristically muted thoughts. Of course, they centered around the petite lycan and her killer body. His mind wandered, and when he once noticed Mai the vampire send him an appraising look the next sixty minutes passed in a blur. Still, when Eliza suggested they stop for the night her words sent a tremor of fear through him.

  A small deserted house stood off to the right, pretty much covered by wildly growing foliage but at least offering a smidgen of comfort. The rest soon brought another matter to the forefront of Ken’s mind, one that he would probably have thought of earlier if he’d had room for any other considerations.

  “Our food supply ain’t exactly inspiring,” he said, turning out his pockets and finding three crumpled energy bars.

  “There are places you can barter for food and water,” Lilith told them. “But not here. There is a grand bazaar on the fifth level and another on the third. If that is all the food you have I would say we need to reach it by tomorrow.”

  “We need no food,” Milo said with typical vampiric arrogance. “At least, not for several weeks.”

  “I could murder a royal stag,” Felicia breathed hotly, then snapped her gaze to Ken. “Or a stallion.”

  The Californian almost blushed. He hadn’t been expecting that. And exactly how did she mean it anyway? Good murder or bad? And did she mean to eat or something else? Bah! Why are there always so many connotations?

  The house held no surprises: full of debris and dust, slowly being eaten by age. A dreary, forlorn wisp of wind blew through its open windows. The vampires chose a room then turned their backs on the rest. Ken found himself with Lilith and Felicia. They chose the next room and each plonked down with their backs to a corner away from the empty doorframe.

  “How did you survive down here?” Ken asked Lilith, knowing that she clearly didn’t want to reveal her past and her problems, but now even more amazed and full of admiration for her. “Especially alone.”

  “I moved slowly,” she said. “Careful never to reveal my passing. Always . . . cautious.”

  “You sound like me,” Ken began, then stopped as Felicia snorted.

  “You!” She guffawed. “You shout your thoughts every minute for all to see!”

  Ken glared indignantly. “I so do not!”

  Lilith gave him a little smile. “Actually, you do. I’ve never seen anyone undressed with someone’s eyes before and I have to say it’s an odd experience. Especially, I imagine, for the person on the receiving end.”

  Ken winced. “I’m off my game,” he muttered. “Comes with the damn territory, I guess.” He motioned toward the open window and the brown foliage blowing inside with every gust of wind. “Whoa, that’s cold.”

  “Subtle.” Felicia laughed.

  “No. Really it’s cold.”

  Lilith sighed. “I’m no prude but if you two are gonna do it, can you go do it in another room?”

  Ken smiled when Felicia reached around to grab him.

  *

  Lilith reflected on the assumptions that people of Earth naturally jumped to. These guys thought she was young, possibly immature, innocent. They were wrong on all accounts. Lilith was twenty two years old. Her father had stolen her from her mother seventeen years ago and she’d escaped his clutches four times. This, the fourth, was the most interesting and promising so far. Every other time the horrendous and amazingly capable demon, Samael, had always managed to track her and bring her back. But this time, he was distracted, due to the terrible events on earth—as she had known he would be.

  This time, she’d planned her escape very carefully. All the other times were mere practice and familiarization. They had shown her the right ways to go—almost like practicing a puzzle time after time—each new attempt was easier.

  And she would never stop trying.

  She’d been five when her father had brought her to this place, the place where he dwelled. He’d begat her of a human mother, of course, and left her to gain a little age before ripping her away forever. Lilith remembered her mother’s tears, her anguish, and remembered even now a vow she’d made at the tender age of five.

  I will return, Mum. I will come back to you, no matter what.

  Her father, back then, had laughed aloud. He was powerful, dreadful and, like all demons, believed he was invincible. But none of them were. She had learned that over the last seventeen years. She had learned everything. Her father visited once a week and, garbed in the same visage with which he’d corrupted her mother, sat with her and talked. Eventually, she learned the art of manipulation and began to draw him out. Maybe he could read her intentions, maybe not. It didn’t really matter; he would see it as a sign of corruption.
She saw it as an eventual way of escape. The only way.

  After a time she became aware of her father’s intentions. He intended to fully corrupt her. Perhaps she was a demonic experiment . . . a test. How long would it take to turn an innocent human child into a demonic being? Perhaps it was his way of showing love.

  But it didn’t matter. Her life, her existence, revolved around escape. She learned to become patient, to become observant, to while away her time listening to the chatter of others and gaining their trust. Many odd creatures visited her or were present when her father took her around the various circles of hell. Some, she even liked. They were too dumb or self-involved to be truly evil.

  But not Samael. That demon was the true personification of pure evil, the worst she’d ever met save for her father.

  Lucifer.

  The Devil.

  When Ken Hamilton and the wolf, Felicia, returned, looking a little hot and bothered, Lilith pondered the question she’d been struggling with for a while now.

  Should she tell them her secret?

  Trust was a commodity she held high in value. And she’d only just met these people. Some of them were supernatural beings: vampires, werewolves. In fact, there was only one human and he seemed somewhat uncomfortable in their presence despite his new ‘attachment’ to Felicia. Lilith knew that she must use any means necessary to get back to her mother. Employ every single trick in the book.

  She would keep her silence for now. Until she could properly use the revelation to her advantage.

  *

  Ken was one happy man. Who said an excursion through hell would be without enjoyment? Felicia was an animal—he laughed inwardly at his own little joke—and sure gave as much as she took away from the experience. His back was furrowed but not bloody, his arms sore where she had gripped. Even his ribs ached. Damn, the girl was strong. He guessed he was lucky to have survived the experience. Somewhere around the middle he had remembered what the female praying mantis did to the male after sex. The thought had wilted the experience somewhat, in more ways than one, but he’d quickly shrugged off the worry and risen once more to the occasion.

  Felicia now pranced around as if nothing had happened. Ken found himself wanting to talk, to learn a bit about her, and wondered what the hell he had accidentally taken. Such thoughts never usually crossed his mind after a quick ugly-bump bout. It was more the opposite, more like raiding her fridge and getting the hell outta there. Figuratively, he thought with an inner smile. And literally.

  But this? What was going on with him? The surroundings were the problem, of course. No one liked trekking through this desolate and broken-down world.

  Felicia came up behind him, resting her lips against the nape of his neck and sending shudders all the way down to his toes. “Shall we go again? The young one is asleep.”

  Ken found himself looking out the shattered window with the brown foliage hanging through, the forlorn rustling stinging his ears, at the dim view of the destroyed world beyond.

  “Can we just talk?” he asked, shocking himself to the very core.

  *

  Later that night, Ken awoke to the sound of rustling. His eyes immediately sought out Felicia, who was taking her turn on guard. The small lycan was crouched, staring at the open window, shock clear in her eyes.

  “Felicia?”

  She waved him to silence. “Look.”

  Ken stared. The brown foliage that dangled through the gap was waving, creeping toward them, held aloft in the air by its own momentum. As they watched, more vines and brown rustling leaves slipped over the sill, pouring into the room.

  Felicia scrambled back. “Are those things alive?”

  Ken woke Lilith with a shake. “Hey. You seen this before?”

  The three of them stepped back toward the door. “Yes.” Lilith nodded. “Anything that once lived or still lives can become animated down here at any time. The dark force is always present. It seems to be pure chance though,” she shrugged, “when it happens.”

  “Somehow,” Ken grunted. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  They backed out into the hallway. All of a sudden one of the vines shot forward like a spear, narrowly missing Ken’s face and striking against the wall at his back. The Californian blurted out an obscenity and raised his sword.

  Eliza’s voice rang down the hall. “Unless you can cleave bullets with that I suggest we go.”

  Ken ducked as another vine arrowed past his ribs. This one took a chunk out of the plaster. He pushed Lilith before him and ran. Milo and Mai were already near the front door, staring out.

  “I hope there’s a back door,” Milo growled.

  Ken jumped on the spot to see past the brute’s shoulders, only stopping when he almost stabbed himself through the foot with the tip of his sword. He did however see what was out there. Vines, thick branches and clumps of undergrowth were crawling over the door like snakes, almost as if they were attracted to the people within. Even from here Ken could sense their crushing weight. He could hear the frame of the door groaning under the strain.

  “Move.” Eliza headed back down the hall.

  Ken ran with her. He kept Lilith close but was aware that she showed no obvious signs of fear or distress. This girl was made of stern stuff. But then, he thought. She’s survived for God knows how long in hell.

  “Got any ideas?” he asked her.

  “I’ve never seen this before.” She made a face. “But running away sounds good to me.”

  They raced past the open door to their bedroom. As they passed, several angry brown shoots fired at them. One ripped through Ken’s jacket, retracting as fast as it came. Another tripped Milo, the big vampire tumbling head first and hitting the floor like a felled buffalo. Ken had to admit to the man’s grace as, with barely an inch of pace lost, the vampire rolled to his feet and kept on running.

  Through a rear door and into the remains of a kitchen they ran. Dull brown cupboards lined the walls. Ken thought about opening a door to check its contents but was worried about what might scuttle out. Eliza reached the back door first.

  “We have a chance if we’re quick.”

  She gripped the handle and flung the door wide. Outside, thorny creepers slithered along the ground toward them, columns of deadly snakes, but Eliza’s perfect night vision spied a gap to the right.

  “Around the side of the house. Follow the paving. Quick!”

  Ken hefted the sword and ran hard. A chunky limb waved in the air to his side and he spun on the spot before it could strike, still running, bringing the sword around in a circle and severing it in half.

  A keening wail went up, the sound of a dark thing dying in pain. Ken closed his eyes for a second, shuddering, feeling his nerves rattle as the noise—a chalkboard howl of jagged fingernails—reverberated through the air. Several more branches twisted toward him, raising up until they were level with his shoulders and swaying in anger.

  He swung the sword, but it was Lilith and Felicia that pulled him aside as the limbs struck. He brushed a shoulder against the side of the house, and right next to him one of the larger branches smashed right through the brick wall. The sword blade chopped it in half, its cry striking at the night like vicious murder.

  “Whoa!”

  Felicia cried out as a branch whipped past her stomach and retracted even before she passed. Mortar exploded from the house wall. If it had connected, the limb could have gutted her. Eliza reached the far corner, peering out. Ken watched her as best he could, gauging her reaction. It could mean life or death.

  “Hurry!”

  She bounded out of sight, faster than anyone in their group. The other vamps followed and then Ken rounded the corner. Ahead lay a blasted, open space, what might once have been a playground or a park. A rusted swing set still sat at its center, creaking as the slightest of winds passed by. They ran for the open ground, and Ken chanced a quick glance back as he fled.

  The house was covered, cr
awling with tree limbs, foliage and waving branches. The structure was almost unidentifiable, just a mass of slithering vegetation. A second passed before he saw several limbs shooting across the ground, chasing after them like living hoses unreeling at high speed.

  They weren’t moving fast enough! He hopped and skipped like he was treading on hot lava as the vines tore between them, catching up to Eliza in seconds. All of them were brushed, touched, scraped, but the limbs only entwined around Lilith. The young girl screamed, and Ken knew they had only seconds to save her. Once she was pulled back within that waving mass she was lost forever.

  He tackled her hard around the waist, lending his own weight to keep her grounded. They landed in a tangle and several of the vines detached to flick angrily at him. That gave him a chance to hack a few apart with the sword and, as he hoped, Felicia stopped to join the fray. A fast glance toward the vamps showed them slowing but looking reluctant to turn back. Damn them to the deepest hole in the ground.

  Felicia tugged hard at a branch, the growl in her throat betraying what was about to happen. In another second of pure shock and awe Ken was witness once more to the amazing transformation this woman could make. Fur rippled over her body, claws split from between her fingers and toes. An elongated snout, high brows and fangs altered her face beyond recognition. The change gave her superhuman strength. Ken fell back as a powerful leg swatted at him. The wolf straddled Lilith, breathing hot air into her face. The message was clear.

  Don’t move!

  With jaws gnashing and ripping, Felicia ripped the thick limbs to shreds. Such was their sudden agony that they retreated reflexively, zooming back toward the house and filling the air with their protracted agonies. Felicia sat back and howled, a sound of gratification and victory, and pure with the thrill of freedom. Wild, untamed, this wolf-woman would never accept slavery. Ken helped Lilith to her feet, his heart suddenly taken by another.

  “Th . . . thanks,” she whispered. “I . . . I don’t know why they picked on me.”