Guardian's Grace

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  “Abyar, make them stop looking at me like that.” She clutched the robe tighter. “Please?” She’d almost forgotten how Abyar hated to be told what to do. She must always ask or better yet beg, but never tell.

  He put his arm around her shoulder. “To answer your poorly asked question, no, I can’t make them stop looking at you like that. It’s their nature, which is why we’re going to hold that other ceremony I told you about. They must see that you are mine, all mine. They can look, but they will never touch.” He ran his finger down her face and between her breasts.

  “Are you going to marry me?” she asked in wonder.

  “Yes,” he drew out the word, “It’s called a claiming, an old demon tradition.”

  “Should I go get dressed?” She was mentally sorting through her wardrobe for something suitable and almost missed what he said next.

  “No, my dear, undressed.”

  Andi stared at him thinking she’d misheard. He raised his eyebrows and stared back.

  “Undress?” she asked and when his eyebrows rose a little more she knew she’d heard correctly. She felt a flush of humiliation rise to her cheeks. “Abyar, I couldn’t.”

  He shrugged in seeming indifference. “Then you’ll be spending most of your time satisfying them as well as me, but, if that is what you wish.” He turned from her.

  “Wait,” and when he turned back, “This is how it’s done where you come from?” He nodded solemnly. She swallowed hard. “Then I’ll do it.”

  He smiled. “Tyn, as my second in command, you’ll stand for me.” Tyn stepped forward and Abyar handed him a long, narrow rod with what looked like a button on the end. Tyn rested the button in the flame of a candle. Abyar held out his hand to Andi. “Shall we begin?”

  He led her to the table and motioned for two of his minions to step forward. He unhooked her robe and the minions drew it from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. One returned and knelt on all fours to act as a step for her to climb to the table. Andi kept her eyes on Abyar, trying and failing to block out her audience. At his orders, she left her legs dangling over the edge of the table and lay back with her arms above her head. When her wrists were shackled, she protested.

  “Abyar, this isn’t necessary.”

  He smiled and stroked her thigh. “I’m afraid it is, my dear.” He motioned Tyn to come forward with a sharp looking blade and challis. “Not for you,” he whispered when he saw the terror in her eyes. He freed his engorged penis from his pants and then used the blade to slit his wrist. The blood slowly filled the cup.

  The chanting began, but Andi couldn’t hear the words. She was mesmerized as Abyar dipped his finger in the cup and started to draw on her body with his blood. He began at her navel and drew a line to her nipple circling it, then down across her stomach to her ribs, across her stomach again to her other side, up to the opposite nipple to circle again and return to her navel. The pentagram began to burn with a sexual heat and she flushed with shame when she felt the rush of wet between her legs and Abyar said, “See how she wants me.”

  He entered her and she writhed against him wanting more, unable to stop the sensations that were coursing through her body. She peaked and shattered, barley aware of the rod with the button descending to her hairless pubis. She smelled the burning flesh before she felt it. She screamed and felt no more.

  Chapter 31

  Canaan was right. There was no pleasing the woman. Grace was sure Callista waited until everyone was gone or busy and the kitchen was clean before moseying down the stairs to demand a full breakfast served in the dining room. Enough was enough. She tried to smile to soften her words, but couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice.

  “This is a working household, Advisor and breakfast is served between six and seven-thirty. After that you’re on your own. I know that’s not what you’re used to and I’m sorry we can’t accommodate you any longer but there are only so many hours in a night and most of them are spoken for.” She nodded toward the counter. “Coffee’s in the pot. Mugs are in the cupboard above. There’s a few muffins left from breakfast or if you prefer, there’s bacon and eggs in the fridge. Feel free to fry them up.”

  Callista smiled wryly and nodded as if she approved of the response. “I wondered how long it would take you to show your backbone. Meek and acquiescent is so tiring, don’t you think?” She wandered over to the coffee maker and helped herself. “Where are the others?” she asked.

  “Out and about. Busy,” Grace answered and then relented. There was no excuse for rudeness. “One team’s out on patrol. Another has the night off. I’m not sure who’s where. The schedule’s been a bit off.”

  Callista took a seat and motioned for Grace to do the same. “Good. I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you alone.” She laughed a little. “Don’t look so surprised. You strike me as a sensible creature and I thought we might come to a better understanding if we got together without the men. It’s been my experience that women often see things much more clearly than men do. I think it’s because we don’t have those huge masculine egos that tend to get in the way of common sense.”

  Grace had to laugh at that. She’d thought so herself on more than one occasion.

  “You see, already we’ve found common ground.” Callista smiled like a fellow conspirator. “I don’t think you fully understand my position here, the power that I hold or the personal investment I have in the outcome of this situation. I’m doubly sure you don’t completely understand the full consequences of Canaan’s defiance of Guardian tradition.”

  “He’s kept nothing from me,” Grace responded with a little defiance of her own.

  “I’m sure he hasn’t.” Callista eyed her with something like pity. “Just as I’m sure you got the masculine ego version and as you know so little about our society, how would you know what to question?”

  Callista scored a good point, but Grace wasn’t ready to give it to her. “Am I supposed to believe you’re going to give me the truth?” Her skepticism was clear.

  “I’m not your enemy, Grace, and certainly not Canaan’s. I care about him as much as you do, maybe more since I’m not the one willing to watch him throw away his life.” Callista closed her eyes and shook her head in regret. She held up her hands in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. You don’t have all the facts.” She set her mug down and looked intently at Grace. “I’ve seen the way you look at him and heard the way the others sing you’re praises. You care about them, all of them. That’s why I’m sure you haven’t understood all the ramifications. If you had, you wouldn’t allow them to go through with it.

  “If Canaan succeeds in this rebellion of his, he and his men will lose everything. Not just this House, not just the titles, I mean everything that makes them what they are. He and the others will lose their places in society. They’ll be outcast from everything and everyone they’ve ever known. Their families will be shamed. No woman of good family will be seen with them never mind mate with them. There will be no sons to carry on their line and you know how desperately depleted their ranks have already become. Those who manage and invest the Guardian’s money will neglect it and no one will chastise them for it. Chances are good that Canaan and his men will lose much of their wealth in the process.”

  These were things that Canaan hadn’t spoken of, things that went beyond the two of them. Could she and Canaan be happy knowing they’d deprived the others of their chance at happiness? Callista took the silence as encouragement to go on.

  “No other Liege Lord will take them in. They won’t risk the spread of seditious poison to their own Houses. Not that it will matter. The Council will call for the removal of their powers. They’ve done it before to individual Guardians who have betrayed an oath. They’ll lose the skull and tears and I don’t think you understand quite what that means.”

  “Canaan said…”

  “That he would live with it,” Callista finished for her. “Brave words from a brave man. I’m sure he
would ‘live with it’, but will you be able to watch him. He’ll lose his gifts, his power, his strength. All the abilities of his mind will be gone. Yes, there are those born with the tear who choose not to follow the Guardian’s life and their powers never grow. They don’t miss what they never had. But Canaan? How long will it be before he regrets his decision? Knowing the role you played, how long will you be able to watch him without guilt and what will that guilt do to the two of you?” Callista bowed her head at the tragedy.

  “All of this is outside of the promises made to me. I wouldn’t dream of using that to hurt Canaan. He means too much to me. Of course, if he were to reconsider our previous arrangement, these problems would all go away.”

  “What promise? What previous arrangement?” Grace asked and was immediately sorry when Callista regarded her with sympathy.

  “How like Canaan to keep private matters within the Race. I probably should do the same but I think it’s cruel to keep you stringing along with no one to explain how things work among our class.” She spoke as if to a friend. “You see, Grace, it’s common for families to make alliances through the mating of their children. When the two grown children get along as well as Canaan and I do, and after the many days he and I have spent together I can assure you we do get along, the mating is a sure thing.” She smiled sadly and reached out to Grace. “I can see I’ve hurt you. Canaan should be the one to explain these things to you and he probably would have sooner or later. A mating between us wouldn’t necessarily destroy what’s between the two of you. After a few years, when I’ve born a few of his children, Canaan may want to return to you. He can well afford to keep you in comfort and he’d visit whenever our social calendar and his duties allow.”

  Grace stared at Callista unable to speak. She’d known there’d been other women in Canaan’s life though she’d never imagined chatting with one of them in her kitchen. He’d never mentioned being in love with any of them. Then again, why would he? If what Callista said was true, love had little to do with it. A promise had been made and betrayed. It would certainly explain Callista’s bitchiness. What woman could stand such a slap to her dignity?

  “I-I don’t think that would work for me,” she stammered. She turned away and waved at the refrigerator. “There’s fruit and cheese in there if you’d prefer. I’m expected elsewhere.”

  Grace fled the kitchen charging through the gym and out the side door. She was pounding on Manon’s door when she heard someone shout her name. At first she thought it was Canaan and she pounded harder. She couldn’t face him now. She had to think.

  Chapter 32

  “Grace! Help us out here. We need to get inside.”

  It wasn’t Canaan. It was Nico. Canaan was out with Addison and Broadbent. Manon and Otto had gone to Manon’s house in the country. Oh god, she was losing her mind.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming,” she called and ran to where Nico had stopped the car in front of the garage. Dov was in the passenger seat moaning and tossing his battered and bleeding head from side to side. She grabbed the remote and punched in the code and followed the car into the garage closing the door behind them. Nico was helping Dov from the car as she reached them.

  “Dov, oh sweetie, what happened to you?”

  His face was torn, his nose bashed to the side and blood poured from his swollen lip. The front of his jacket and shirt were shredded and blood seeped through the cloth.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Nico’s face was an unemotional mask as he supported Dov’s weight and pushed through the door. “His wounds need to be cleaned with holy water as quickly as possible. Straighten his nose so it will heal properly. Fix his jaw. Put him to bed. He’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  Nico passed through the kitchen and into the Back Room. Grace grabbed a stack of towels that she’d taken from the dryer that waking and hurried after him. She stopped and slapped the counter next to a stiff and staring Callista causing the Advisor to jump as if she’d been slapped.

  “Please Callista, come with me. We may need you,” she called over her shoulder and continued on to the Back Room. “Nico, stop.” She held up her hand like a cop to prevent him from leaving. “Where am I supposed to get holy water and where do you think you’re going? I need your help.”

  “They should each have a flask of their own and probably keep it in a medicine cabinet or a first aid kit. I apologize, Grace, but I can’t stay. I’ll be in my room.” He pushed past her and strode up the hall. His back was rigid and dried blood surrounded a jagged hole near the shoulder of his leather duster.

  “Nico, you’re hurt.” Grace chased after him and touched his uninjured shoulder.

  He turned on her then, his face hardened in the chiseled mask of blood rage and he hissed showing her his fangs. “I’m fine. Go take care of Dov.”

  Grace stepped back, shocked by his anger. She raised her hands. “It’s okay. I’m going. You need to go take care of yourself.”

  She turned back as Callista screamed, once again stiff and staring with terrified eyes, her hand covering the shocked O of her mouth. Grace grabbed her arm and dragged her into the Back Room.

  “I need you to get that shirt off of him,” Grace directed. “There’s scissors in that drawer. I’ll get soap and water to clean him up and the first aid kit from the laundry room.” She said it more to organize her own mind than for Callista’s benefit.

  Callista still had her hand to her mouth. She looked from Grace to Dov and began to tremble. Her skin took on a peculiar color. Dov’s eyes were wide as he glanced between the two women. He tried to speak but his jaw seemed frozen at an odd angle.

  Grace swore using Dov’s favorite curse. “Shit, fuck and be damned. This place is usually overflowing with people. Where the hell are they now?” She pushed Callista into the nearest chair. “Sit down before you fall down and don’t even think about fainting or puking on my carpet. I have enough to deal with.” She lifted her finger at Dov. “I’ll be right back, sweetie. You just hang on.”

  She flew to the kitchen, gathered what she needed and walked back to Dov balancing the bowl of hot water on top of the other supplies. She stripped away Dov’s shirt revealing three deep evenly spaced gashes running from sternum to belt.

  Working as quickly as she dared, Grace washed the cuts on his chest and the matching claw marks on his cheek. She fought to keep her voice steady and relaxed as she worked.

  “Nico says to wash your injuries with holy water. I thought that stuff was supposed to fry you guys but I guess Hollywood got that wrong, too.” She swabbed each cut carefully with water from the clear unlabeled bottle in the kit and winced inwardly as Dov gasped when the precious liquid soaked into the grooves. His eyes watered. Fine tendrils of smoke rose from the wounds and Grace held her breath to keep from gagging at the stench.

  “Damn, there appears to be a little truth to that rumor, huh?” She took his hand and examined the swollen knuckles. “Okay, now for the hard part. I’ve got to set the broken parts. I’m going to fix these dislocated knuckles first. I know how to do this. There was a kid at one of the homes I was in. He played basketball and he used to do this all the time.” She kept the story going, told about foreseeing an injury and trying to warn him and later being accused of jinxing his game. During the telling, she snapped the two knuckles back into place. She ended with, “I’m sorry, Dov. I don’t know why I saw him, but didn’t see you.”

  “Maybe this was supposed to happen.” Canaan rested his hand on her shoulder.

  With just his touch, relief flooded her. Here was her rock, her salvation. She raised her arms to embrace him but Callista’s words hung between them and she lowered her arms and spoke without emotion.

  “We’re glad you’re here,” she said keeping it impersonal. “Teach me how to set his jaw and straighten his nose.” She placed her hands to either side of Dov’s nose and waited.

  She listened intently to Canaan’s instructions as he led her through the repairs and she willed her body to feel
nothing as he guided her hands. There would be time later on to sort through her thoughts. Dov’s welfare was important now.

  Councilor Addison was tending to Callista who was sprawled in the chair with her head thrown back breathing deeply through her nose. His voice was soft with concern.

  “Are you all right dear? Are you injured?” He stroked her hair with gentle fingers. He looked accusingly to Grace. “What happened here? What’s happened to Callista?”

  “It’s nothing a shot of good whiskey won’t cure,” Grace snapped. “Take her into the parlor and pour her a stiff one.” She took a deep breath to keep from screaming at him. “She’s in shock. When Nico and Dov came in, I asked for her help. It was too much for her.”

  “Where’s Nico?” Canaan interrupted.

  “Upstairs. He had trouble controlling the rage and I think he frightened Callista.” When Canaan turned to go, she stopped him with her hand on his arm. “No. I’ll go. I want Dov in here where I can keep an eye on him. There are clean sheets by the dryer to make a bed on the couch. Broadbent can help you move him. He’s too heavy for me.”

  “She’s never been exposed to blood rage,” Addison explained to no one in particular, “Or this kind of violence. This is why women are banned from the Houses. They’re too delicate for this sort of violence. No woman should be subjected to this.”

  “You got my vote on that one, Councilor,” Grace muttered as she headed up the stairs.

  Nico’s room was at the end of the hall across from the one she and Canaan shared. The door opened slightly with the force of her knock.

  “Nico, it’s me. I’m coming in.” She stuck her head around the door and gasped as Nico shouted.

  “No. Go away. You have no business here.”

  He’d grabbed his coat and flung it about his shoulders but it was too late. She’d already seen the massive scarring that covered his back. Ugly red and purple welts of raised flesh covered the expanse from his shoulder down to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. A clear bottle like the one from the medicine chest sat on the nightstand, a bloodied towel on the floor.