Guardian's Hope

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  “You’re right, Mr. Smith. I could have killed you at your own front door and you’ve given me some great ideas for future weapons.”

  Everything depended on this first step. He had to believe she could read his mind, not just his wants. Hope prayed she sounded convincing. By the look on Smith’s face, she must be.

  “Yeah, well, parlor tricks make you a magician. That don’t mean you can kill somebody with your tricks.” He wanted to know if that was how she got away from the guys in the van.

  Perfect. “Yes, Mr. Smith, that’s how I got away from those guys in the van.”

  This time his eyes popped and he took a step back. His thoughts skittered from place to place. Could the bitch read minds? Did Damon know? Is that why he wanted her? Would he trade Beauty for her? Smith wanted Beauty. He wanted to see how much it would take to make the silent bitch scream.

  Hope had to convince Smith she could read minds, but to do that she needed him to give her an image of a want or need. When it finally came, she was so repulsed by it, her hand twitched and the mirror cracked. Smith jumped.

  “I don’t like your thoughts, Smith.” She was done being polite. “Makes me wonder how much it would take to make you scream.” A piece of the mirror fell into the sink.

  Smith’s body language gave him away. He was now a believer.

  She spoke with more confidence. “You have two problems. The first is your buddy across the hall. The only reason he hasn’t killed you is because Damon owns him and Damon wants to watch him do it. Gore’s just waiting for an excuse to disobey.”

  Smith tried to interrupt, but Hope was prepared and held her hand up.

  “Stop. Listen. We’re running out of time. You think you’re so clever making Damon come to you.” She shook her head at his stupidity. “You won’t leave this house alive. Damon plans to kill you, not pay you. He never planned to pay you for bringing me in. Once he has me, he won’t need you. Why pay for what he doesn’t need.”

  “Save your snarls for someone else,” she said in reply to curled lip. “You want to know how I know all this? The same way I know what you’re thinking. I took it from his mind. I don’t have to be all that close. I can read your thoughts from across the room or across the street. Choose, Smith. Get your money from Damon and live happily ever after or stay here and die.”

  Smith wasn’t going to give in easily. “What can you two do that I can’t?” he sneered.

  “We can help you kill the demon across the hall. You won’t be able to do it alone.”

  *****

  Tyn paced back and forth across the room. His arms were flailing in every direction and his gleeful laugh sounded similar to the squeal of a pig.

  “She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine,” he squealed. He’d been wrong about his former boss and this proved it. Might made right. All that time and money wasted. He should have threatened the wormy human from the very beginning. Humans responded so well to a direct approach. Tell them what you want and tell them they’ll die if you don’t get it. Lesson learned.

  Now all he had to do was wait for nightfall to pick up his prize. Two prizes! It was like that Christmas he’d heard so much about. He was so pleased, he thought Gor deserved a reward. The next time he called in to grunt, Tyn would tell him to enjoy his next meal on Tyn. He could have Smith! The human had his uses, but he’d shown himself to be untrustworthy. He’d cheated his boss and Tyn couldn’t stand a cheater. It could be weeks or months before the body was found, if there was anything left of it to be found.

  He looked over at Beauty sitting quietly in the corner. Her dead eyes stared at nothing. She really wasn’t much fun anymore. Maybe one of the new ones could be her replacement. Yes! That was it! That’s what he’d been doing all along. He’d been looking for a replacement for Beauty.

  “Go to your room,” he ordered. “Don’t come out until I call.”

  He watched her silently leave the room. He owed her a lot. He’d give her one last night before he put her to work with the other minionettes. Tomorrow night her name would become number five.

  Now, he only had to deal with the damned Guardians. He could handle that. Things were looking up.

  *****

  Even after Hope explained it all the second time, Smith’s response was the same; an unbelieving snort of derision and while she despised this man, she couldn’t fault his disbelief.

  “I don’t like you, Mr. Smith. I don’t think I’ve hid that from you. I think you’re vile, the lowest form of humanity, yet compared with the thing in there, I’ll choose you as an ally. That should tell you something. Now, we’re going to open that door and you’re going to see something you never thought possible. If you still don’t believe me, you can lock us back in that room and nothing is lost. If you change your mind, you need to move. Fast. Bring me something I can use. We don’t know how long Grace can hold him.

  “If he’s such a big bad demon,” Smith said it like a schoolyard taunt, “How can she hold him at all.”

  Hope sighed with impatience. “I told you, with her eyes. Now open the door. Quietly.”

  “You first.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.” She pushed him aside, almost into the bathtub. At least he remained quiet when her hand touched the doorknob. The click sounded loud in the silence.

  The bathroom door opened to a direct view of the bedroom. Grace was out of the protective square of sunlight, looking up into the eyes of the demon.

  “Change for me, Gor,” she whispered, “Change your face and hands so I can see the real you.”

  Gor’s hand began to change, the fingers elongating and fusing together until five became three. Smith couldn’t see the demon’s face. The changing shape of the back of its head was enough.

  Hope saw Smith’s mouth open in horrified protest and she pulled him past the open door. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear and, amazingly, with speculation. He wanted to know how much Damon knew.

  She pushed him toward the stairs. Damon, demon,” she hissed in his ear, “He’s one of them you idiot. Go!”

  The next few minutes seemed to last forever. Hope stood in the hall, to the right of the door, out of sight should the demon turn. She could hear Grace’s constant murmur. How long could she hold him? Grace didn’t have much experience and Hope knew how exhausting using her powers could be.

  Smith returned with a screwdriver sporting a heavy, twelve inch shaft. He shrugged, hands splayed wide to say it was the best he could do for a weapon.

  She closed her eyes and signaled ‘go’ to Grace. The message she got back was one of exhaustion.

  Smith was right behind her when she entered the room. Whether Grace’s hold was weakening or their movement caused his doglike concentration to break, Gor as a human turned to face them and threw himself at Hope when he saw the raised screwdriver in her hand. He roared his rage and his massive hand swiped back, connecting with Grace’s head in a sickening thud.

  She was supposed to have time to concentrate on her aim. She was supposed to have the broad, clear target of his back. She wasn’t supposed to see his face or his eyes.

  The screwdriver flew from Hope’s hand with the force of her fear and the force of Gor’s lunge threw him onto the head where it buried to the hilt. She had a fleeting glimpse of terror and surprise in his dark feral eyes before the force of his charge bowled her out through the door and into the hall. The wall cracked behind her as her back was thrown against it. She thought it was her bones. She was buried under a mountain of flesh, her face pressed against the demon’s chest. She couldn’t breathe and struggled to turn her head to the side. The handle of the screwdriver pressed into the right side of her neck, preventing escape in that direction.

  Panic rose with her chest crushed beneath the beast and the smell of his blood tainting what little air she could gasp. Without breath for a scream she whimpered. She pushed, wriggled and kicked beneath the body, fighting for her freedom and when it final rolled to the side, she crawled away on hands
and knees. She didn’t collapse, but rested her forehead on the floor and mentally took stock of her body’s possible injuries. To her surprise, there were none.

  A moan from the bedroom brought her staggering to her feet. She stepped cautiously over Gor’s legs and into the bedroom. Grace was propped against the wall rubbing the red welt on her left temple that was quickly forming an egg any goose would be proud of.

  “Are you all right?” Hope asked though she could see it for herself.

  “We did it,” Grace said incredulously. She winked at Hope and smiled. “Not that I didn’t think we could.” She smiled.

  “You’re not supposed to lie to a sister,” Hope replied, but she felt the smile on her own face. Her hands shook, her knees shook, her whole body felt crushed and bruised and she started to laugh. She’d never felt more alive.

  Grace held her head in her hands, “Stop!” she said, laughing herself. “It hurts.” She looked around the room as if someone might be hiding in the empty space. “Where’s Smith?”

  Hope checked the hall, empty but for the body of Gor, and came back to sit beside Grace, copying her position with legs splayed and head leaning back against the wall.

  “He’s gone.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, catching their breath, keeping their thoughts to themselves until Hope spoke for them both.

  “What do we do now?”

  “Exactly what I tell you to do, ladies, exactly what I say.” Smith stood in the doorway with a gun.

  Chapter 40

  “Keep your eyes off mine.” Smith pointed the gun at Grace. “And you,” the muzzle moved to Hope, “Keep those fingers still.”

  The women were too exhausted to do anything. “Thanks for helping out, Mr. Smith.” Hope said Mister as if it were a dirty word.

  Smith grinned triumphantly. “Hey, you’re the one that said you could kill him with your parlor tricks. I just gave you the chance to prove it. Now I know you can do it, you’re going to do it again. You’re going to take out Damon and I’m going to take over the business.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Grace winced and rubbed the swollen bruise on her forehead.

  “The deal was we take care of Gor, you take us to Damon, get your money and run. You agreed.” Hope could see what he wanted; a house of prostitution. Then another image supplanted the first. Horribly ill young girls were used to satisfy the sickest of sexual desires. Was this what Faith had been forced to do? She covered her mouth and tried to turn her choked cry into a cough.

  “Did we shake on that? So we were agreed and now we’re not. New deal is I get it all. Oh, and you two get to work for me.”

  “No,” Hope said when she’d recovered enough to speak. “My deal or no deal. You’ll get no help at all.”

  “You’ll help,” he leveled the gun at her.

  “Go ahead. See what happens when Damon shows up here and finds me dead or maybe you plan to drag my body through the streets and dump it on his doorstep. You need me. You can’t kill me.”

  He pointed the gun at Grace. “I don’t need her. I can find another way to hold Damon still.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

  “Stop it!” She started to throw out her hand, but saw his finger tighten more. “What is it you want? What is it we get in return?” There had to be a way out of this if she only had time to think.

  “I told you what I want, the business and you get to live to enjoy it. Isn’t that what you offered me?”

  “Give him what he wants, Hope,” Grace sounded defeated. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed with resignation. “We don’t have a choice. He knows about my eyes and your fingers. He has us beat.”

  Hope saw a flag with Canaan’s House crest fluttering in the breeze. Grace wasn’t giving in or giving up. She was preparing for reinforcements. Hope followed Grace’s eyes to the square of sunlight on the floor. It had shrunk to a wide stripe. It wouldn’t be long before it disappeared altogether as the sun sank behind the houses to the west. Sunset wouldn’t be far behind.

  “Nico!” Hope sent the word out along the bridge with everything she felt. “Can you hear me, love? We need you!” She sent him an image of the empty room, of Smith and the demon, Gor.

  She almost thought he was here when she heard movement in the hall. She almost called his name aloud, and then she realized it couldn’t be him. Nico would have answered her call. She felt Grace tense beside her, caught a flash of Gor in her mind.

  The long, scaly arm rose above Smith’s head and came slashing down just as Smith felt the presence behind him. Sharp talons slashed through his back tearing flesh and sinew to the bone beneath. The women leapt to their feet as Smith screamed, spun away and fired point blank. The first shot tore into the door frame, sending splinters flying. The second, third and fourth hit demon and his body jerked spasmodically with each bullet’s impact. The screwdriver, held awkwardly in the demons other hand, fell to the floor as the demon lunged at Smith, who never got the fifth shot off. He screamed again as the gaping maw of the beast closed over his arm. One more slash of the demon’s claw severed the artery in the human’s neck and Smith was no more. It was all over in less than thirty seconds. Gor eyed the women and licked his lips.

  *****

  Canaan and Nico had prowled the house for hours, snapping at everyone that stepped in their path. They had finally settled in the new gym where, under the guise of working out, they took out their frustrations on each other or anyone else unlucky enough to pass through. By late afternoon, the twins refused to relay the regularly timed messages from Manon.

  “You’d think they’d be happy to see us. I mean we’re bringing good tidings and all that shit, right? Gracie and Hope are okay. They’re supposed to be all thank you, thank you we’re so relieved, but no-o-o-o. It’s thank you, now come here and let us kick the crap out of you.”

  Otto had no sympathy. “They need to release the tension, to control the rage, Dov, and they’re not using you as a punching bag. I watched them put you through the paces. You’re not hurt and it’s good training. Quit whining and pay attention. You might learn something.”

  “Already did. Stay away from any chick who really rings my bells, ‘cause this love shit sucks. Turns strong men into stronger lunatics. And what’s with Nico? He’s not even branded.”

  Branded was a term used by the unmated to describe the appearance of the small rose set among the lilies on a male’s chest once he was mated. The white rose turned red if the mated became bound or disappeared if the mating was terminated.

  “First, you don’t know what he carries over his heart. You’ve never seen his skull and tears. Second, branding, as you call it, marks your heart long before it marks your chest.”

  “Yeah well, me and Col are never going to know. We’re taking the pledge. No roses of any color for us. Nardo and the Professor are right there with us.”

  “So said Canaan and Nico,” Uncle Otto laughed, “So said we all.”

  Buffy leapt to his lap and rubbed her head against his chest as he waited for Manon’s next call.

  In the gym, Nico froze mid-kick. “Hope’s in trouble,” he choked out the words and then fell to his knees and threw back his head. His roar reverberated off the walls of the gym and sent chills down each Guardian’s spine.

  The phone rang and Otto pressed the button to receive Manon’s latest report. His face paled.

  “Dov, get the men. We leave now.” He was already rising and heading for the door. “Manon heard shots. The fool woman is going in to help.”

  *****

  “You can’t go in there! Let me call the police!”

  It wasn’t the first time Joseph cried the words. They were talking about his kids when they heard the first shot and Manon had the button pressed on the phone as the others rang out. They weren’t loud, but it was gunfire for sure. He’d heard it before while driving the city streets at night.

  Manon had said into the phone, “Shots fired. I’m going in. The girls need my help,” and
hung up.

  He didn’t know why she’d want to help the girls who were messing with her man, but she was out of the car and running before he could stop her. He should have called 911. He should have stayed in the car. He should have minded his own business. He didn’t do any of the things he should have. He got out of the car and ran after Manon. The only clear thought that he had was that he was glad he told his wife he loved her before he’d gone out on this run.

  *****

  The two women were on their feet with their backs against the wall. The stripe of protective sunlight had disappeared and clouding skies added to the gloom of the unlit room. Gor seemed to have trouble moving, but he wasn’t going down. Blood seeped from the wounds inflicted by the bullets yet the chest wound from the screwdriver showed no fresh blood. His tongue hung slavering from his bloodied jaws and his eyes were fixed and staring. He took a single step toward them, stopped and steadied himself before taking another.

  Hope didn’t realize her fingers were weaving the pattern until the screwdriver skidded across the floor and flew into her hand. Without thinking, she threw her hand out and sent the driver skimming through the air. Her aim was off and the tool slammed into the center of the demon’s throat instead of its chest. It gurgled as the blood welled in its throat and it pawed at the protruding handle, but it couldn’t seem to grasp it. It took one more step toward them and fell to its knees. Then slowly, so slowly, it lowered itself face down on the floor.

  When Hope called the screwdriver to her, Grace dove for the gun. She held it now, aimed at the demon’s head. They heard the front door crash open and footsteps on the stairs, too light for the heavy boots of the Guardians. Grace widened her stance and holding the gun in two hands, redirected her aim toward the door.

  “Joseph, hold my hand. I am afraid of what we will find.”

  They heard the whisper and stared at each other, each wondering if the other was hallucinating, too. Manon?