Guardian's Hope

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  “Ah, merci, mon Dieu.” Manon stood in the doorway with her free hand on her heart. The stranger who held her other hand swallowed hard as his eyes passed over the mauled body of Smith and remained glued on Gor.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am? Do you know what that thing is?”

  Manon patted his hand as if he was a child staring at a dead kitten. “It is a demon, Joseph, something few men have seen and fewer still have lived to remember. You have been very brave, my friend, and I must ask you to be brave a little longer. Grace, take Joseph down to the kitchen, and find me a knife, or an ax, anything that will take its head.” She spoke like she was asking for sugar and salt. “We must finish it before it rises again. Hope will stay here with me. In case.”

  Grace didn’t question. She circled the body cautiously, stepped over Smith and grabbed Joseph’s hand.

  “Come on, I’m going to need your help.”

  He followed her looking green and dazed.

  Manon looked at Hope. “We need to take the head or the heart in order to kill it. I will go to the bath for something to cover myself.” She shook her head and tut-tutted at Hope’s blood spattered clothes. “If he moves,” she calmly reached over and yanked the bloody screwdriver unceremoniously from Gor’s neck and passed it to Hope, “Hit it again.”

  It was over in minutes once Grace returned with a shovel and Manon was securely wrapped in the shower curtain. Waiting out of sight in the hall, both Hope and Grace winced and poor Joseph gagged at the sound of the shovel crunching through the creature’s neck. Manon stepped out, free of her plastic covering and seemingly unperturbed by the fact that she had just beheaded a demon that was turning to dust as she spoke.

  “I shall need a new pair of shoes,” she said, inspecting the small spatters of grey on her navy blue pumps. “Now, as disappointing as this may be, we must go home. Your source for finding this Damon has, as they say, dried up.”

  “Damon?” Joseph croaked. He was still trying to keep his stomach contents down where they belonged. “Tyn Damon?”

  “You know him?”

  “Oh no ma’am, and I don’t think I want to and you ladies shouldn’t either.” He looked guiltily at Manon. “I can’t afford to pick and choose who I drive. I need the money. So I got this regular gig picking up a few, ah,” he searched for an inoffensive term, “Party girls? Their boss runs a pretty clean shop, if you know what I mean. The girls seem pretty nice and they talk, you know? They say their boss is partnered with this guy and he’s really, really no good. He runs a few girls in his own house and these girls claim there’s some pretty nasty stuff going on over there. It’s just a few blocks over. They pointed it out once as we drove by. They say their boss is sorry she ever made the deal, but it’s too late to get out, if you get my drift.”

  “And this evil man is Tyn Damon?”

  “Yes, ma’am, or so they say.”

  Manon took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. “You, my wonderful new friend, shall have a new car for this, if what you say is true.”

  “I only know what they told me,” he said, bewildered. He looked at Hope and Grace. “I guess this isn’t about a cheating husband, is it?”

  “No, my friend, it is about evil and saving a young woman’s life. Will you drive us to this place?”

  All his adult life, Joseph had worked hard and tried to do the right thing. He still wasn’t sure what was going on or if that thing upstairs really was a demon, but whatever it was, it wasn’t right. This Manon was a good woman and her friends looked pretty straight up, too. If they needed his help, he wasn’t about to say no.

  “Come on,” he said, leading the way to the car. “It’s not that far, maybe ten, fifteen minutes if we hurry.”

  *****

  They took the bikes. Canaan took Nardo with him on the old Ducati. Broadbent’s long legs encased Dov on the smaller red Shadow Sprit. Col followed on his matching Spirit in pearl black and Nico took up the rear on his Harley. Leathers and full black helmets protected them from the last of the sun’s rays. Uncle Otto would meet them there with the car.

  They sped through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic and avoiding red lights through alleys and side streets. They cut travel time in half, parked the bikes on the sidewalk and charged into the house, tossing helmets aside as they ran up the walk, only to find the building empty.

  A quick search of the house proved that the women were gone. Smith’s body as well as the pile of dust and rags that was all that remained of the demon, gave evidence of what had happened, but no clue to the whereabouts or condition of the women.

  Nico roared out his anger and threw his fist into the wall. His body bulged with pent up rage, his eyes glowed golden and his fangs flared.

  “Hope! Where are you, goddammit?”

  “Nico? Don’t be angry. We’re here. I think we’ve found her. Oh!”

  Like someone cutting the cord, the connection went dead.

  “Hope!”

  He drove his fist through the wall a second time.

  Chapter 41

  Joseph had never seen anything like it. He wasn’t sure that he’d seen it at all. When they drove up to the house, Manon directed him to stop the car few houses down. The women got out and Manon told him to go home. His job was done. She’d handed him a wad of cash that had to hold a couple of thousand, blew him a kiss, waved her hand and disappeared with the dark haired woman. Literally disappeared, leaving the red head standing alone on the sidewalk.

  He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he couldn’t leave them. Invisible or not, that place wasn’t somewhere decent women should be and besides, he’d been drawn into this sci-fi nightmare and needed to see it end. Even if it was just to reassure himself he hadn’t lost his mind. Who would believe this?

  He parked the car one block up, took off his cap, jacket and tie so he wouldn’t be so conspicuous and stood beside the car. He saw the red head, Hope, knock on the door and use her hands to push someone inside. No sign of Manon or the other one, Grace.

  He waited a few minutes, not sure what to do. The smart thing would be to get back in the car, drive home and hold his wife and children close. But Manon had said they were saving a young woman’s life. If his Emily was in danger would he want someone to shrug and walk away?

  He walked past the house. It was a big place, a little run down, running deep into the lot, the kind of place he and his wife dreamed of owning one day. There was even a third floor with a peaked roof over tiny windows at each side of the house. That attic would make a great place to play for his three kids. Instead, it was owned by some sleazebag running a whorehouse. It looked like a decent neighborhood, too. Someone had even run a fire escape from that side window, though it looked so rusted it’d probably break with the first step. Still, his Emily would love this house and he was pretty handy with a hammer and a paint brush. It didn’t seem right that a creep should get a place like this while he and Emily scrimped and saved to get out of their two bedroom apartment.

  He stopped on the sidewalk and looked at the phone Manon had left in the car. He wondered for only a moment what Emily would think of what he was doing here before dialing, not 911, but 3, the speed dial Manon had used to report to someone named Moncore.

  *****

  When Otto got the call, he was in the car following the others to Smith’s. His vampire state had aged and weakened him to the point where fighting demons was no longer possible, but Canaan had found a use for him as back-up. In this case, the car was slower transport since the motorcycles could maneuver through traffic with greater speed. However, they were useless for transporting the injured or in this case, a group of women out of harm’s way.

  The phone buzzed as he was taking a corner and he almost pushed it off the seat in his haste to answer. His heart almost burst with relief when he saw the ID and fell to the pit of his stomach when a stranger’s voice answered him.

  “Thank God, you idiot woman.”

  “Moncore? Sir?”

&n
bsp; Otto looked at the phone as if it had sprouted eight legs.

  “Who the hell is this and where’s Manon? You’re a dead man if you touch a hair on her head.” He couldn’t take on a demon anymore, but this voice was human and he could still kick the shit out of one of those.

  “No, no. I’m a friend or er… Joseph, her driver. She told me to go home, but I can’t. I’m afraid for her and the other ladies. I can’t leave her, Moncore, but I don’t know what to do to help.”

  “Where’d you get this number?” Otto asked with continued suspicion.

  “I used the speed dial she used when she called you every hour or so. I thought we were following a cheating husband and you were her brother or something. But when we saw that thing at the other house… Moncore, she’s one helluva lady.”

  “Stop calling me my heart. The name’s Otto. Where are you? Give me an address.”

  His door was open before he threw the shift into park and he left the car running while he ran into the house. He cut off Canaan’s rant with a snarl.

  “Fuck the attitude, Liege Lord. We don’t have time. They’re over on Kasouth Street. Got a guy who’ll flag us down.”

  He didn’t wait for questions.

  *****

  Hope placed both hands on the chest of the demon/man who answered the door and pushed him back into the entry hall. He was so startled by her aggressive action, he didn’t try to stop her.

  “I want to see Tyn Damon and I want to see him now. He’s been looking for me so he should be happy to hear it.”

  She kept moving forward as the demon moved back and kept her foot braced against the door. Manon’s gift was illusion and she was more adept at creating whole scenes, not becoming ‘invisible’ by hiding behind an illusion of her immediate surroundings. She wasn’t sure how solid she could make it appear or how easily a demon could see through it at such close quarters. Therefore, it was Hope’s job to keep all eyes on her and she kept pushing and poking the demon in case one of her partners brushed against him as they slipped by. Because she was a Daughter of Man, they appeared to her as ghostly figures ascending the stairs.

  Their first test was the demon at the door and now that they’d passed it, their mission was to search for Faith.

  The demon finally pulled himself together. “Not so fast,” he said fiercely. “You wait here. I get the boss.” He left her standing in the small foyer.

  Hope looked around. The house wasn’t as large as the Guardian House, but it was larger than Smith’s. There was a good sized dining room to the right, filled with furniture from the 1940s. The kitchen was probably directly behind it at the back of the house. To the left a living room, same circa. Behind it, who knew? Most likely, upstairs held three or four bedrooms and above that, an attic or servants quarters.

  She chose the living room because she would be farthest from the stairs and anyone facing her would have their back to them. As she was entering, she saw someone open a door behind the stairs and head toward the kitchen. A basement?

  She took a seat in an old Morris chair, folded her hands in her lap and primly crossed her ankles and as quickly uncrossed them and planted her feet firmly on the floor. If she had to move fast, she didn’t want to trip over her own feet. She brushed the front of her skirt, but there was nothing she could do to hide the spatters of demon blood.

  *****

  When the minion knocked, Tyn was just tucking his new silk shirt into his new light wool slacks. There was something to be said for expensive human clothes. The finest to be had in the otherworld weren’t nearly as nice as these. He preened in front of the mirror before snarling for the minion to enter.

  “I thought I said I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

  “The red haired woman is here. I thought you’d want to know.” The minion cowered, expecting a blow for disobedience.

  “She’s been delivered?” he rubbed his hands together in glee. At long last, the bitch was his. She was his to play with for as long as she lasted and if she wasn’t as pretty and cooperative as Beauty, that wouldn’t be long. He would have to find her a name. All pets should have one. He’d call her Beauty. When Beauty went to work with the minionettes, she’d be Number Five as she was meant to be in the first place. He meant the red head to take her place, why not take her name? And then he thought how did she get here? He was supposed to pick her up.

  “Where’s Gor and Smith?” he asked the minion still skulking in the doorway.

  The minion looked confused. “No Gor. No Smith. She knocked on the door.”

  Was Smith playing some kind of game? Gor wasn’t bright, but he was obedient. This change in plans should have been reported.

  “When was the last time Gor called in?”

  “Two hours ago.”

  “He should have called since then. Why wasn’t I told?”

  The demon messenger cringed. “You said you weren’t to be disturbed.” He glanced at Beauty and licked his lips.

  Tyn shook his head at the beast’s stupidity. He should have known. In this business, he couldn’t afford to take a single day off. He should have cuffed the demon for leering at Beauty, but what the hell. In a few more hours she wouldn’t be his personal pet anymore and he was feeling generous.

  He looked at her, huddled naked against the wall. Their last day together had been something to remember. He patted her head affectionately on his way to the door.

  “You’re going to get what you’ve always wanted, my dear. After a joyous reunion with the red head, and I really want you to watch that first bite, you’re going to live with the minionettes. You shouldn’t have lied to me Beauty. You know who she is and she isn’t you.”

  Beauty showed no reaction, even after the door closed, but a faint light flickered in her vacant eyes.

  “Hope,” she whispered and sighed with relief.

  *****

  Damon strode into the room. “Where’s Smith,” he asked without preamble.

  “Dead,” she answered, just as abruptly. How quickly she’d lost her good manners. “Along with his buddy, Gor.”

  A bold one, he thought to himself, but not fearless. She was afraid, terrified in fact. He could smell it and it pleased him. It was all he could do not to bite and fuck her here and now, but he wanted to do this one right, with candles and roses and her sister watching.

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.” He barked out a name that she couldn’t decipher and another creature appeared in the doorway. “Check outside. Bring me Smith.” The creature left and she heard the front door slam.

  “You won’t find him, unless you go to his house. He’s dead and I’ve come for my sister. Just give her to me and we’ll go away. I won’t cause you any more trouble.”

  Tyn smiled and she saw the demon within. He leaned toward her, inhaling deeply. Yes, underneath the fear, he could smell it. She was special, just like her sister. Her taste would be nectar for the gods and he would be her god.

  “Oh,” he said as if he was delighted with her remark, “You can’t cause me any trouble that I won’t enjoy.”

  *****

  Grace and Manon reached the top of the stairs without even a squeaky step to give them away. The hallway was empty and all five doors were closed. The first, on the left, was unlocked and empty except for a dead mouse in the middle of the floor. Grace snickered silently as Manon moved cautiously around the mouse as if it might jump up at any moment. Apparently demons were no biggie, but mice were dangerous opponents. They checked the window for exit possibilities and the closet to be sure there was nothing of interest there and tiptoed across the hall.

  This bedroom was fully furnished, but obviously unused; no clothes in the closet and a thin layer of dust coating everything including the well-worn coverlet. The room smelled stale and slightly of dog. The well-used and rank smelling bathroom was next. A hairbrush with dark brown hair stuck in the bristles sat upright in a dirty plastic bowl along with some make-up and an almost empty tube of antiseptic cream. Grace pull
ed a few strands from the brush and held them up to the light. They were curly and glinted red.

  As they crept back into the hallway and onto the next door, they heard voices on the stairs. Mercifully, this door was also unlocked and they ducked inside, closing it softly behind them.

  They held their breath and listened.

  “He don’t want her anymore. I heard him say so.”

  “Don’t matter. He ain’t given her to us.”

  “I say let’s take her,” said a third voice.

  “What you doing up here!” a fourth angry voice from the stairs. “Boss want you on the front door. You! Stay up here in the hall. In the hall, you hear? No place else. You two come with me. We got work outside.”

  “Let Maul and Trif do it.”

  “I said you.”

  All this was followed by a lot of grumbling and growling and then a few snarls and yelps. When it was quiet again, the two Daughters stood back from the door and took their first look around the room.

  The room was padded, more for soundproofing than for softness. The window was boarded over and padded as well. There were four worn, but comfortable looking chairs stained with what Grace decided she’d rather not know. Overflowing ashtrays dotted the few tables and the coffee table was strewn with magazines with brutal sexually explicit covers. The women couldn’t talk for fear of discovery, but Grace could read that Manon’s mortified emotions were much like her own. Was this a waiting room?

  Manon gestured to the closed door at the back of the room, another closet, only it wasn’t. It opened to a flight of stairs leading up. These walls were padded, too. At the top was another door, soundproofed. Grace dug away some of the padding and pressed her ear against the wood. There were whimpers, soft murmurs, but no conversation. As quietly as she could, she turned the knob and opened the door to a hallway with four doors leading off of it. The doors were open and a quick glance inside showed the first three were empty but used. They were filthy. The small twin beds were covered in greying rumpled sheets. The sound proofed walls were spattered with drink, food and other smears she thought might be blood. Behind her, she heard Manon’s quiet gasp.