by Elise Marion
He heaved a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. Addison fell forward, resting her forehead against his chest. His hand came up to the back of her head in a soothing gesture, then he stroked her hair, causing her scalp to tingle.
They simply sat that way for a while, only the sound of their breathing and the chirp of crickets filling the silence.
Micah’s voice was a broken whisper when he finally spoke.
“God damn it, cher. What have we done?”
Chapter Twelve: The Morning After
Jack sighed happily and leaned back in the dining room chair, reveling in the many sensations filling him—almost as if experiencing them for the first time. Everything felt new: the taste of food, the cool summer breeze outside, the simple sensation of clothes against his skin, or the various sounds of the city just outside.
The warm décor of his childhood home enveloped him, a huge difference from the stark white surroundings of his previous residence. It felt good to hear voices other than his and Michael’s, for a change.
Sarah smiled and took up his plate, running a warm hand over his hair. “Had enough?”
He patted his flat stomach and grinned. “I think three plates is my limit. I missed food so much!”
Across from him, his father sat in silence, staring at him in awe.
When he’d turned up on his parents’ doorstep an hour ago, he’d been met with tears and cries of disbelief and joy. Cassandra had jumped into his arms and sobbed, clinging to him with long, slender arms. She’d grown since the last time he’d seen her and had lost the last of the baby fat marking her as a kid. In a few years, his little sister would be a teenager, and by the looks of things, she was going to be a knockout. How had he missed that?
His father and stepmother both looked as if they’d aged since his death—a few more lines here and there, several more gray hairs. Yet, nothing warmed his heart like seeing Sarah smile; this woman who had raised him after his mother’s death. She beamed with pride and happiness as she took his plate and dumped it in the sink.
Once the initial shock and several questions had passed, she’d ushered him into the kitchen and promptly served him from the casserole dish of lasagna she’d made the night before.
“I remember watching people being held in purgatory for different reasons,” she’d said. “I remember them all missing the taste of food. Eat up.”
Sarah had been an angel before falling in love with his father and trading in her wings for a life with him. Maybe that’s why she seemed to accept his return more readily than his dad. Jackson Bennett, Sr. watched his son as if he expected him to disappear at any moment—as if he couldn’t decide if this were real or not.
“Um, Sarah, can I talk to Dad alone for a minute?”
Michael had charged him with facing the truth—the source of much of his anger and bitterness. This required a conversation that had been a long time coming.
She nodded. “Of course. I’ll just go check on Cassie. She’s had quite a shock.”
“Haven’t we all,” Jackson Sr. murmured as his wife paused to kiss the top of his head. He grasped her hand affectionately, kissed her palm, and then released her.
For a while after she’d left, they sat in silence, staring at each other. Jack found himself confronted with a mirror image of himself in about twenty-five years or so. They had the same gunmetal gray eyes, identical bone structure, voices eerily alike. Only a slight difference in skin tone separated them, as Jack had taken on his mother’s darker complexion while Jackson had a tone more similar to cream-laced coffee.
Finally, Jackson spoke.
“You died,” he said, and in those two words, Jack heard a lifetime’s worth of pain and grief.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“I still remember the day you were born like it was yesterday,” he said. “I was young, so was your mother. We hadn’t been married long, and I was due to deploy soon after. Your mother had a rough time with you—the whole pregnancy was hard on her, and then your heart rate kept dropping during birth, and we discovered it was because the umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck. It was terrifying. But, then, there you were, this tiny little baby we had made. I felt this feeling of fierce devotion come over me at that moment, and I knew I would protect you from anything. For a while, I did—monsters under the bed and all that kind of stuff. But eventually, you grew up and became capable of taking care of yourself, but I never stopped wanting to protect you.”
Jack knew what would come next. His father was a man who often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders—as a protector, a soldier, he always thought it his responsibility to save people, to be there for them, to defend. To guard.
It existed as an instinct he’d come to realize had been deeply embedded in every Guardian.
“You didn’t fail me,” he interjected. “Being a Guardian is dangerous, and I got caught up in a bad situation. Fortunately, it’s been decided that my time here isn’t up yet.”
Jackson nodded, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’m glad you’re home. But you’ve been gone for months. Why did they keep you so long?”
He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I needed time to … sort some things out. Michael forced me to take a long look at my life and its direction.”
His father frowned. “What do you mean? You’re a Guardian, and you do what’s asked of you.”
Jack nodded. “Yes, but the truth is … well, I haven’t wanted it. Not for a long time. By keeping me there, he made me realize that I’d lost my passion for the cause. I was just going through the motions, all the while simply waiting for a way out.”
His father’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you saying? You don’t want to be a Guardian anymore?”
Jack took a deep breath. The moment of truth had come.
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “All that has changed. But I need to say this, Dad. I need to get it out. I have to make my peace with this so I can move forward.”
Jackson nodded. “All right. I’m listening.”
“After Mom got sick and I came to live with you, I was so happy,” he began. “I mean, not happy that she was dying, of course, but happy that I got to be with you. I had missed having you around. Back then, all I ever wanted was to be like you … my hero. I wanted to be in the army and go off to war and everything.”
“I remember,” Jackson said, chuckling. “You used to dress in my fatigues when I wasn’t wearing them and try to walk around in my boots.”
“They were some big shoes to fill,” he replied. “Especially once I found out about the Guardians, and our family’s tradition. A long line of Bennett men going back generations, all soldiers and Guardians. All fighting for the cause. I remember you telling me how far back our line of Guardians went, and how important that tradition was to uphold. To think I was part of something rare and special filled me with so much pride. I can remember making the decision to take the mark at fourteen, and being so gratified, especially seeing how happy it made you. It seemed like my every dream had come true.”
His dad nodded. “I remember that, too.” He paused with a sigh. “What happened, Jack? What changed?”
He sighed, folding his hands in front of him on the table. “This mission changed everything. At first, we went into it thinking it was going to be fun. Demon hunting? What eighteen-year-old boy wouldn’t want that? I think Micah and I went into it with dreams of glory and battle and didn’t realize what we were getting ourselves into. The longer it dragged on and the more we lost, the harder it became to want to go on. I didn’t realize it then, but I know now that I was nursing resentment, anger … toward you.”
Jackson started, blinking in surprise. “Me?”
Jack lowered his head, ashamed. “I’m not proud of it. See, at some point, I realized that you were in your thirties before you took the mark. You got to be a kid, and have a life, and get married, have a son, be a soldier … you got to live. I look
ed over the last seven years and realized that I was fighting the same endless fight, and I had nothing to show for it. And I was angry at everyone. At God, at Michael, at myself. I was angry at you for letting me become a Guardian so young, and for pushing me to train so hard to hone my powers. I resented you for the life you got to live, and I felt cheated.”
He sank back into his chair, still unable to meet his father’s gaze. He’d been ashamed of it up in Heaven with Michael, and he felt even more so now.
“I’m so sorry,” Jackson whispered. “I had no idea you felt that way.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Dad,” he insisted.
“But I do want to explain. You have to understand. After I was released from the army and lost your mother, I was aimless. I spent an entire year at the bottom of a bottle, trying to outrun my problems. I hated that feeling of helplessness and drifting with no purpose. I’d always had a purpose as a soldier, and that had been taken from me. Finding Sarah, and discovering my calling as a Guardian, changed all that. I was never more focused or more whole as a man than after accepting the mark and taking up the mantle. Unlike you, I wasn’t told about any of this until I was grown. My family hid it from me after my father left my mother—because his Guardianship was a dangerous assignment and he didn’t want us caught up in any of it. I became so angry when I found out, because I felt like I’d been living in the dark my entire life. So, I wanted you to have what I didn’t. I didn’t want you to be blind. I wanted you to be strong from day one, and have the tools you’d need for what was to come.”
“You did that,” Jack said. “And I am grateful for it now. Really. You did what you thought best, and I can’t complain. I have more than most people, despite what I’ve lost, and I get to be part of something extraordinary. So, you see, you’re still my hero, Dad. I’ll never stop trying to live up to your example.”
Jackson stood and rounded the table.
Jack came to his feet just as his father enfolded him in a tight embrace. A strong hand clapped his shoulder, and he realized every word he’d said had been the truth. In the place of bitterness had settled hope that he hadn’t failed yet. His mission wasn’t over, and he had a lot of work to do to make up for lost time.
“You make me proud,” Jackson declared once they’d parted. “I couldn’t have asked for a better son. Now, we need to make some calls and get you back to New Orleans. I know a pretty young lady who will want to know you’re back.”
Jack smiled, thinking of Addison. It had taken everything in him not to go running back to her the second Michael had released him back to the land of the living. But his family had deserved this first visit. He hadn’t wanted to make them wait a second longer than they had to, to know he was alive again.
“I do need to get back, and not just for Addison. Dad, I talked to Tracy while I was up there. She told me something that’s going to change this war, and I’m not sure if it’s for the better. Something big is about to happen, and we have to stop it.”
His father’s brow creased in concern. “I’m going to call Reniel right now. As soon as he gets here, I want to hear everything.”
Addison woke to the sound of hissing. Confusion filled her as she turned over and the airboat rocked beneath her. It took a moment to get her bearings as the fog of a slight hangover stole her rationale. She squinted against the bright morning sun reflecting off the water and glanced around. The bottom of the boat was littered with empty mason jars, and next to her, Micah slept soundly, his face boyish and approachable in rest. Lips slightly parted, he snored softly, one big arm draped over her, hand on her hip.
Right.
They’d kissed last night, then slept under the stars once the liquor had taken them both down. At least, nothing else had happened. If they hadn’t crossed the line, their kiss could continue to mean nothing. Him holding her all night while she slept didn’t have to mean anything, either. One night of vulnerability with another person who felt as much pain as she did. That was it. Morning had come, and the time to face reality had also arrived.
Rubbing her bleary eyes, she shifted into a more comfortable position, her muscles screaming in protest after sleeping so long on the boat’s hard bottom. She combed her fingers through her hair to bring it to some semblance of order and yanked the rubber band from around her wrist to make a ponytail.
The hissing came again, closer this time, and she froze, hands in her hair. The undeniable sound of a snake sent a tremor of fear down her spine. She was one of the most powerful beings on Earth and had fought demons. For crying out loud, it was just a snake!
Yet, she couldn’t shake the anxiety coursing through her as she detected the splash of something moving in the water. It sounded huge. Her breath hitched and she held it, listening for the sound.
There it is again!
Reaching toward Micah, she grasped his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.
“Micah, wake up!”
He groaned, causing the boat to rock as he shifted his bulky body.
“Hmmm,” he murmured, his arm tightening around her, fingers holding her hip possessively. “Ten more minutes, cher.”
She flinched when the hissing started up again. It seemed to echo throughout the marshland surrounding them. She couldn’t shake the picture of some kind of mutant swamp creature from her mind.
“I heard something,” she insisted, shaking him again. “I think it was a snake. Get us out of here.”
Chuckling, he sat up, running his fingers through hair that stood on end. Scratching the stubble he’d grown overnight, he peered at her through eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep.
“God’s Chosen One, scared of a little ole snake?” he teased. “There’s all kindsa creepy-crawlies out here, Addison. None of them is the least bit interested in you.”
Warmth radiated against her chest and she looked down. Dread clenched around her throat in a vise, causing her voice to come out on a ragged whisper.
“Micah.”
He glanced over at her, then down at the ring she had retrieved from inside her shirt. It glowed between her fingers, seeming to pulsate with energy.
She peeked up and their gazes met, Micah’s as full of dread as hers.
“Aw, hell,” he whispered.
The hissing came once more, echoing through the trees. Micah’s wide eyes darted left to right, seeming to try to find the source.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice so low she had to lean close to hear him. “I’ll start the boat, and we’re gonna—”
His words halted abruptly, and he disappeared almost in the blink of an eye. One second, he sat in front of her, and the next, he was gone with a loud ‘whoosh’ and jerking of the boat.
Addison screamed, shooting to her feet in the vessel. It rocked precariously, but she didn’t care. A loud splash indicated that Micah had hit the water; yet, she couldn’t figure out where he’d landed or how he’d fallen off. Her loud breathing mingled with the sounds of swamp insects chirping and the birds flying overhead. Everything else had fallen into stillness, as if the entire swamp held its breath. Turning in a slow circle, she searched the water, hands shaking. She waited.
A few seconds later, the river on the left side of the boat seemed to explode upward like a geyser, and a massive thing left the depths, a black shape among the spray. Water showered down over her, soaking her hair and clothes and nearly causing her to lose her footing. Swiping her hand across her eyes, she blinked to clear her vision. A gasp tore from her throat as her vision cleared.
The long, wriggling tail of a large snake had come up out of the river, its end wrapped tightly around Micah. He bellowed at the top of his lungs, kicking and trying to free himself from the beast’s grasp, but it proved futile. Even he wasn’t strong enough to escape that snare.
“Addison, behind you!” he cried.
She turned, reeling backward and landing on her butt in the bottom of the boat as she came face to face with the snake’s head. Gleaming like black onyx in the sunli
ght, it fixed its narrowed, red eyes on her and hissed, its long tongue flicking out toward her face. She screamed, backing away from it, but only able to go so far without falling out of the boat.
Thinking quickly, she reached for her inner light and drew it around herself, throwing up her force field. Just in time, as the snake lunged at that exact moment, jaws snapping as if to gobble her up in one swallow. It banged up against her barrier, then shrieked in anger, mouth open to reveal four sharp, menacing fangs. The scream sounded almost human, like a banshee wailing its rage.
Addison fought her way to her feet, eyes wide in realization.
“A shape-shifter,” she murmured. “Lilith.”
The thing hissed as if in acknowledgement of her statement, then plunged back into the water, taking a screaming Micah down with her.
“Micah!” she wailed, feeling helpless inside the little boat. With her barrier around her, she was safe, but he wasn’t. If the thing didn’t snap him in half or suffocate him, he’d surely drown.
The boat jerked hard to the left, tipping onto its side as the snake reared its ugly head, cracking across the open air above her like a whip and plunging back down toward her, jaws open and teeth dripping venom.
Addison pulled herself up, levitation coming easier to her since she’d been practicing with Elian. She floated above the water, surrounded by her orb of light, safe from the snake’s jaws.
“Fine, stay in there,” a feminine voice said, echoing up and down the riverbank, tinged with the hiss of a serpent. Her tail rose up out of the water, holding a sopping wet Micah. “I’ll just stay out here with your friend. We’re having so much fun.”
Micah looked as if he were going to be sick when the serpent drew him up, then flung him downward toward the water.
“Wait!” she called out, reaching out as if to catch him, even though it would be impossible from this distance. “Leave him alone. I’m the one you want.”
The snake’s head moved closer to her, undulating on the end of its long neck, tongue flicking and eyes glowing like embers.
