Guardian's Grace

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  “Col!” She grabbed Canaan’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Col’s in trouble. You have to go. Now, Canaan, now.”

  She told him what she saw as they ran from the church.

  *****

  Col was blinded by the blood rage. He saw the three run to the corner and by the flickering form of the shorter man, he knew they were part of the demon mob.

  “Dov! Come on, they’re getting away,” he yelled, but Dov had his hands full fighting a lone demon that was already in bad shape. He would finish it off without any trouble, but there wasn’t time to wait. He ran in the direction of the fleeing trio, sure that Dov would follow.

  With another shout to Dov, Col reached the corner and caught a glimpse of the demon, man, and woman as they turned a corner three blocks down. White light surrounded him as he sped after them following them down a side street to a small grey house.

  He flew at the door and plowed over it as it crashed to the floor. One demon, half formed, screamed and attacked. His arms and hands had morphed into scaled and mud colored appendages tipped by the three distinctive demon talons. He snarled and lunged, grabbing Col by the shoulder, its sharp pointed teeth scoring Col’s arm to the bone.

  Col knew, at that moment, that the blood rage had sapped his strength. He had violated Canaan’s cardinal rule for fledgling warriors who didn’t have a Guardian’s gift of constantly regenerating energy. Conserve, conserve, conserve. Don’t let the blood rage pull you under. Using the white light had hastened his depletion even more.

  He heard the woman scream, a high pitched screech that echoed in the small room. Using the last of his waning strength he drove his fist through the demon’s chest. A scaled grey-green arm wrapped around his chest. Col felt his chest rip open as it pulled him away from his opponent. The claws scored again as he was yanked back taking the first demon’s heart with him as he fell. He rolled with the grey demon’s claws still anchored in his chest, found purchase with his knees and heaved himself upward, gaining his feet and falling more than driving himself backward, crushing his new attacker against the wall. The screaming was in his head now and interfering with his concentration. It didn’t matter. He was a dead man.

  The torturing grip on his chest released and he turned to face the largest demon he had ever seen. Red, slavering jaws housed a set of teeth that would put a wolf to shame. Col backed away and for the first time in his young life, he knew fear. His knees gave way and he gripped the table behind him for support.

  Andi was frightened. Her earlier glimpse of the man/monsters hadn’t prepared her for this. Watching this man turn into a monster wasn't what she expected. She’d started to scream. Watching Ragor’s metamorphosis put her over the edge. The thing they were fighting was no better. She’d thought him beautiful from a distance. Up close, she recognized him for what he was. Vampire. She was still screaming, crouched by what she instantly recognized as an altar; rose colored candles in five pointed holders, a cut glass bowl of sweet smelling herbs, a small quartz crystal and a silver athame with a finely wrought ivory handle. Silver killed vampires. Her screaming stopped.

  A roar like a tornado shuddered through the house and the room was filled with white light. Canaan entered like an avenging angel, Nico close on his heels. They launched themselves at the monstrous grey-green demon ripping into him with a terrible fury.

  Andi saw her chance. Only the weakened blonde vampire stood between her and the door to freedom and his back was to her. She grabbed the athame and clenched it in her hand. It burned with an electric current that sizzled its way up her arm and she almost started screaming again. She raised the athame and drove it into his back, to the left of his spine where his heart should be. His head snapped back and he howled with the pain. Andi was already out the door.

  Canaan knew what had happened as soon as heard Col’s cry. The last time he’d heard that sound was when Otto was struck down almost five years ago. It was a sound that haunted his dreams; good men suffering a blow that would turn them. Leaving Nico to finish destroying the demon heart, he turned to Col.

  Nardo and Grace pulled up to the front of the house as a bellow of anguish ripped through the night. She knew it was Canaan, her Canaan, with a pain so profound she felt it in the very depths of her soul. The car was still rolling to a stop when she leapt from the door and ran into the house.

  Canaan was bent over Col, stroking the young Paenitentia’s hair and whispering soft words of comfort. Blood covered the white shirt and pants that only minutes ago had seemed so pure. He reached for the knife that was sticking from Col’s back.

  “No!” Grace screamed as she sank to her knees beside him, “Don’t touch it.” She could see the shallow movement of Col’s chest. He was still breathing, still alive.

  “It’s going to happen, Grace. Best to make it quick.” Canaan’s face was a blank, his voice a monotone.

  “No. As long as he’s alive, he has a chance.”

  Chapter 41

  They carried Col into the house and placed him face down on a bed in their makeshift infirmary. Manon followed them in from the kitchen where she’d been preparing a meal to celebrate their mating.

  “Tell me what you need. How can I help?”

  Grace was already cutting the shirt and jacket away from Col’s back. Her fine silk gown was drenched with his blood.

  “Boil water, Manon. Nothing touches him that isn’t sterile.” As soon as she said the words, she realized the foolishness of them. Human infections couldn’t affect the Paenitentia. It was demon venom that caused infection and the wound itself would kill him. She pulled a chair close to the bed to examine the wound. Canaan paced behind her.

  “He’s got chest and abdominal wounds, Grace. We can’t get to them. If the knife doesn’t turn him, those will.” He slammed his fist against the wall and plaster rained down to the floor. “Where the hell is Dov?”

  Calls had gone out to the three unaccounted for men. Broadbent was patrolling the neighborhood with Otto and responded immediately. They, along with Nardo and Nico were dispatched to find Dov who hadn’t answered his call.

  “Stop it, Canaan,” Grace snapped. “Getting angry won’t change anything. I need you here. Think. Tell me what to do.”

  Col was unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle either because the wounds were already starting to heal or because there wasn’t much blood left. They couldn’t treat the wounds on his chest or abdomen without turning him over and the reaction of Col’s unconscious body to the burn of the holy water might force the knife deeper into the heart. If the knife had pierced the heart, and by Canaan’s estimate it had, then its removal would undam the wound and allow blood to rush from the puncture. Grace cut away the rest of his clothes.

  The outside door crashed open ushering in a barrage of fists and curses.

  “Get the hell off me, you fucking bastard,” Dov yelled as he shoved Nico away. “Who do you think you are?”

  Nico’s face was stony, his fangs fully extended. He threw Dov up against the wall, feet dangling, and held him by the neck. “Who am I? I am a Guardian who would never leave a comrade to fight alone and you are a fledgling and if you ever address me with such words again, I will see your death wish fulfilled.” He allowed Dov to slide down the wall to his feet. Nico’s voice rumbled low and menacing. “It’s only my respect for our Liege Lord that saves you. I would not have him lose two kinsmen in one night.”

  “Nico! Let him go.” Canaan strode across the gym. “What’s going on?”

  Dov edged away when Nico released him and Nico sneered, “We found him asleep in a vacant lot not far from where we found Col.” He curled his lip with every reference to Dov. “He slept while his brother fought and died.

  At Nico’s accusation, Dov blanched and looked to the other end of the gym where Grace and Manon hovered over Col’s still form.

  “Died? Col? No!” Dov darted around Nico and Canaan caught him around the chest in a bear hug as the twin
tried to run to his brother.

  “He’s not turned yet, son,” Canaan said quietly, “But it doesn’t look good. Nico, why don’t you call in Otto and Broadbent? They should be here.” He released Dov but blocked him from going to Col by clasping his shoulders. “Col’s in a bad way, Dov, and shit son, I know it hurts but you’ve got to man up. He’s unconscious for the moment and we want to keep him that way until we figure out what to do. I don’t want Grace and Manon any more upset than they already are.” Canaan hardened his voice still keeping it low but firm. “Now you’re going to walk over there and goddammit you’re going to stay calm. You hear me?”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Dov, but his eyes never left his twin. Canaan clapped him on the shoulders and released him.

  Manon was washing the dried blood from Col’s body. While she worked, she whispered a calming chant, pausing after each line for Grace’s echo of the words. The knife in Col’s back rose and fell with each shallow breath. Watching it hypnotized Dov and he reached for it.

  “No.” Grace stayed his hand. “If we pull it out he’ll turn. The wound will close in on itself and there’ll be no way to get the holy water in to close the wound to his heart. He’ll bleed out.” She brought his hand to her lips, holding it there with both of hers. “I’m sorry, Dov, oh so sorry.”

  Her tears fell onto his hands. He ignored them and resumed staring at the knife. Manon continued to chant. Grace rejoined her.

  “Cut it out,” Dov said in a deadened voice. His eyes never left the knife.

  So many minutes had passed that it took Grace a moment to make sense of the order. “Honey, we can’t.”

  “Sure you can. You take another knife and you widen the hole. You keep cutting until you’re close to the tip. You pour in the holy water and you pull out the tip.” He continued to watch the knife, his voice emotionless. “If we leave him the way he is, he’ll turn. There’s no choice. If we cut it out, he has a chance.”

  Grace placed her hand on his arm. “Dov, you’re not thinking clearly. If we cut him anymore, he’ll bleed to death. He’ll turn.”

  A sad smile played across his lips. “Gracie, for once in my life, I’m the only one who is thinking clearly. I’m thinking like Col. No one knows him better than me and this is what he’d choose. He’d choose the chance to live.”

  The others had gathered around the bed as Dov spoke. Otto came forward and placed his hand on Dov’s shoulder. “What if it fails?” he asked. It was the question no one else would ask.

  “Then I’ll take care of him. I’ll end it for him. I’m his brother. It’s my duty.” Dov tore his eyes from the knife and when he looked at Otto his eyes filled and spilled over.

  “Canaan did what he believed was right for you, Uncle Otto. I see you and Manon and I know he made the right choice, but it’s different for Col. He’d never be a Guardian and that’s all he ever wanted to be. He thought about it. He questioned it. He made a choice. Me? I just came along for the ride.” He wiped the tears away with the backs of his hands.

  “This is my fault,” he said and at Grace’s cry of protest he shook his head. “No, Gracie, Canaan’s right. I need to man up.” He told them about the fight. “I heard him call. I knew he wanted me to follow but I was high off the fight and I just wanted to sit and relive the details. I said to myself, ‘There goes Col, Mr. Conscientious. Let him go play the hero. I’m gonna sit here and enjoy.’ See, that’s the way I’ve been thinking all this time. It’s a game we play. So I didn’t follow. I wasn’t there when he needed me.”

  Grace was the first to reach for him. She stroked the blonde hair from his forehead. “Oh sweetheart, you’re here now when he needs you the most.”

  Canaan’s voice was rough. “Get what you need. Let’s get this thing done. Grace, I’ll cut but I’m going to need someone to guide me.”

  *****

  Otto and Manon looked up in unspoken question as Canaan entered the kitchen followed by two other Guardians. No one looked happy.

  “He’s alive,” Canaan said solemnly, “For how long, I can’t say. We got the blade out but he lost a lot of blood. He didn’t fight until we turned him over. His chest and stomach are a mess. The poison went deep and we had to reopen some of the wounds to clean them out.”

  The sun was high in the sky and they were all exhausted with fear and worry. Nardo poured coffee for Canaan and Nico and then sat down with a mug of his own.

  “We held him down while Canaan cut out the knife but we didn’t need to. It was like he knew it was important not to move. I wish to hell someone would find an anesthesia that worked. We could’ve used one when we turned him over. All hell broke loose.”

  Broadbent came through carrying a load of bloody sheets and towels. “Grace says you’re all to go to bed.” He poked his chin at Otto and Manon. “She says the bed’s ready for you two in Otto’s old rooms. She’ll keep watch with Dov.” He started the washer and called over the noise, “My lord?” Canaan grunted in response. “She didn’t ask, but it would be a kindness to get her into clean clothes. She won’t leave Col. Maybe you could…?”

  “Of course, Broadbent. I should have thought of it myself. Thanks.”

  He brought her an old pair of sweatpants and a shirt to match because he wanted her to be comfortable and she accepted them gratefully but when he moved a soft chair in from the Back Room she refused to use it.

  “I can’t. It’s too comfortable. I’ll fall asleep and I don’t want to do that until I’m sure he’s stable. The folding chair is better,” she gave a little laugh, “If I fall asleep, I’ll fall out of it.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and he hugged her close stroking her hair. She whispered and hoped Dov wouldn’t hear, “You have to speak with him Canaan. He made a mistake. That’s all. He didn’t do this to Col and I can’t help thinking that if he had followed his brother, we might have the two of them lying here now or worse. Guilt’s a terrible burden. Don’t make him carry it too long.”

  “Guilt can bring wisdom as well, sweetling. I won’t let him suffer too long and I wish the penalty wasn’t so high. I’m proud of the boy. He took responsibility, didn’t try to share the blame. He could have, you know. Col should never have gone alone. He knows better. They both heard their orders and they both chose to ignore them. I’ll make sure Dov understands that.”

  *****

  Andi ran and didn’t stop until she was in her own house. She slammed the door closed behind her, flipped the lock back in place and rested her head against the frame. A bubble of hysteria rose inside her and broke into a giggle. Neither the door nor the flimsy lock would hold back either of the things she’d watched fighting tonight. Her hand still stung where she’d gripped the athame. She could see the faint outline of the handle on her palm. She rested her head against the frame and didn’t move until her breathing slowed and she could think.

  Her old living room calmed her with its familiarity. The carvings in the floor, her altar, and the trappings of her art reassured her that she had power as well and reinforced her earlier feeling that she needed to develop that power to its full potential. That would have to wait. She had other things to think about. She sat in Abyar’s chair, the only one in the room, removed her torn stockings and curled her sore feet beneath her. She’d kicked off her shoes soon after she’d fled the witch’s house. The spike heels made it impossible to run.

  She laid her head back and breathed deeply. Abyar’s essence surrounded her. Abyar.

  Abyar didn’t create those man/monsters. They came that way and she suspected the monster was real and the man the illusion. Ragor shifted much too easily and was much too comfortable in that warped and scaly body. And the other creatures? Those vampires? They certainly weren’t the human business rivals she’d been led to believe.

  She’d found it easy to accept Abyar as a demon because he was so handsome. If he too had this other, monster half, could she accept that as well? She had until sunset to decide.

  *****

  Abyar roared his fu
ry. He stormed through the restaurant, grabbing salt and pepper shakers and hurling them against the wall. Sweetener packets, vases, candles and flowers littered the floor. The leatherette backs of two booths were scored with the marks of his talons; talons whose emergence he could no longer control.

  “Where the fuck is she?” he screamed. All vestiges of the cultivated human being were erased by his consuming need to find Andi.

  He’d lost a soldier and six minions to the damned Guardians and he didn’t care. Andi was missing along with Ragor and whatever nameless minion he’d chosen to go along. At this moment, he cared for nothing except finding Andi.

  He wanted her. He needed her. She was his anchor in this strange world and he couldn’t survive here without her. He screamed again as he felt the pull from the otherworld. Everything was falling apart. He needed to find Andi and complete the drug deal that would give him the wealth to pay off his otherworld investors and live happily in this human world he wanted so much to be a part of.

  Chapter 42

  Grace awakened to the sound of Dov’s voice. In spite of her earlier claims about the folding chair, she’d dozed off with her hand resting on Col’s motionless arm. It had been three days since Canaan removed the knife and while Col still hadn’t regained consciousness, she’d begun to hope that all would be well. Now, at the panic in Dov’s voice, she was instantly alert.

  “Stay with me, bro. You gotta stay with me. I told Mom you’d be okay and you know I don’t lie to Mom. Okay, so I lie about girls and bars and shit but not about the important stuff. Not about this.” He gripped his brother’s hand. “Don’t go.” His voice cracked.