In the Shadow of Angels: The Guardian Series 1

by Savage, Fanny Lee

  “Exactly,” Aydin says, “Which is unethical and goes against everything the Organization was created for.”

  The thought is terrifying. A league of vampires with the power to save thousands of lives, dangling it over people’s heads. It is like conglomerates, controlling the water supply to third world countries. They have the money, and means to provide, but would rather keep them thirsty and suppressed to line their pockets. No wonder Henri is so secretive.

  My eyes move to Henri and my mother before I speak. “So, Ludari is the leader, or Sovereign of the Region we are in. He was assigned, I guess long ago, by a top member of the Organization, which is supposed to keep vampires from what? Using people?”

  “He is also a Keeper,” Aydin says, “Which is a crucial role in the Creation stories.”

  “If these Keepers and Guardians are supposed to keep these bloodlines safe, why was my mother forced to come here? Shouldn’t we automatically be protected?”

  The three of them stare at me blankly.

  Ashur walks into the room, his presence forcing everyone’s attention and stopping our conversation. On his arm is Claudette, as luxurious and sexy as ever. “Abigail, have you informed Charlotte of our Celebration Feast?”

  The what?

  “No, my love, I have not. We were just discussing the Organization. Trying to help Charlotte understand her importance.” My mother almost coos at him. My stomach twists.

  Claudette releases Ashur’s arm and comes toward me. She pulls me to my feet. “I have the perfect dress for you.”

  “What is this celebration?” I ask.

  “A very elaborate party,” Claudette says, her eyes sparkling. I wonder how often she is allowed to leave the chateau.

  “We extend an invitation to all the Cabinet members and their families in the neighboring Regions. I host this function as a sign of partnership. Our joined effort in keeping the Organization strong and unified,” Ashur says, smiling at Claudette.

  “It’s a political move,” Aydin tells me.

  “Yes, dreadfully boring when Father speaks politics, but they are fun. We provide excellent entertainment.” Claudette starts to pull me from the room. “Come, I will show you the dress I have picked out for you.”

  Claudette leads me to my room, holding my hand the entire way, chatting about something or another. I only hear talk of dancing, free flowing wine, elegant gowns, along with equally elegant vampires. All her words rattle in my head. Vampires have only just become my new reality and I am supposed to attend a party full of them. My stomach clenches thinking of what is in store.

  When we reach my room, I see that Claudette has laid out a gown on my bed. It is stunning to say the least. Silky and sexy, the color of clear blue topaz.

  “I want us to be friends,” she says.

  “I don’t see why we can’t be,” I lie.

  Claudette smirks, calling my bluff, “We started off poorly, I’m afraid, which is my fault. I love Henri very much and, unfortunately, it seems to bring out the worst in me. Ashur says it is because I have marked him, which makes us possessive at times. Please accept my apologies.”

  Her openness has me a bit stunned. Part of me is glad to have cleared the air.

  “It is understandable,” I say. “I’d like for us to be friends as well.” This time I don’t lie. Claudette is still pretty shady, but she is my age, or well at least mentally... Maybe.

  Claudette hugs me, her beautiful face smiling big. “Good.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Two days after discovering my mother, who left me to move to France with my teenage crush, and his underage uncle, is a vampire, I am back to sitting in the parlor drinking wine with everyone. Everyone consisting of one person and four dark demons. Nine days ago, I left Florida. Nine days ago, I thought my mother was dying. She never will. I have a hard time wrapping my head around this one. So I am drunk. Well, almost.

  My stomach twists every time I take a drink of the blush wine Claudette keeps handing me. I think I’m on my third glass, but my head is fuzzy, and I can’t remember. My brain and coping mechanisms are shutting down, and it’s obvious.

  “Claudette, I think you like to live vicariously through me,” I say, “You keep trying to get me drunk.”

  She grins and rubs her cold hand down my leg. How had I never noticed how cold her hands are? My eyes drift over to Ashur. He is sitting on the sofa across from me with Abigail wrapped around him. His hand grazes over her arm she has draped over his chest. The sight is...unnerving. My stomach clenches, revolting, as I down more wine.

  Ashur isn’t typically good looking. He is sleek and hard, like a shark, the complete black of his eyes stare, almost unseeing, but somehow missing nothing. Still, he doesn’t give off any weird vibes. In truth, none of them do. I can’t read a single person in the room except Henri and Aydin. It is maddening. What I can see, however, is that Ashur does have a hint of underlying darkness. What kind of man would force a mother away from her family? Then again, he is not exactly a man.

  I hope he is kind to Abigail. He doesn’t appear cruel, but she isn’t radiating happiness either. She seems to be tolerating, rather than enjoying his touch. Her arm over him, more of a show. It is a far cry from the hugs and kisses I had seen my parents exchange. The sight stings. No wonder they had been screaming that night. Poor Daddy. Then again, his other option was to have his barely eighteen year old daughters move to France and live with a bunch of vampires.

  Abigail catches my eyes and smiles. It is not that she is my mother that makes the picture in front of me so strange. It is that he looks so much younger than her. I know, in reality that he is in fact way, way older. Just how much, Claudette told me, is still hard to fathom. Well over two-thousand years.

  Since the vampire is out of the bag, so to speak, most of the daytime staff has been let go. The thick curtains that hang in every room are kept closed, sealing out the light. They are free to walk around during the day, as long as I promise not to run around tearing the draperies down. Vampires, after all, are not allowed to walk in the sun. They burn I’m told, and burn bad.

  I take another sip of wine. My eyes land on Aydin. He is sitting by the fireplace, acting like he is reading a book. His leg is swung over the arm of the chair. All casual and somehow arrogant. For whatever reason he is ignoring me, which I find maddening. I am still angry that he manipulated my emotions. I can’t help but wonder just how far he took it, though I’m not sure how to ask. If I do, it will reveal I can read him.

  For the first time since my arrival, I actually want Aydin to look at me. It has nothing to do with his beautiful sculpted lips that seem too perfect and feminine. Or his metal eyes. Or his feline movements and raven black hair. Nothing at all with his beautiful smile, restrained laugh, and feigned disinterest. None of these things is why I’m sitting here, willing him to look my way.

  Claudette has filled me in on the daily lives of the chateau’s inhuman residents. Aydin and Ashur are very old and need little sleep. She tells me that she is a mere five hundred years young and requires a full day to rest. And here I thought Claudette was planning all the different ways she could be wicked, when in actuality she was buried underground sleeping in her coffin. Which, she informed me after I rudely asked, they don’t actually do. Apparently vampires sleep in beds. Wikipedia, it turns out, is not a very reliable source.

  Claudette also told me, Abigail is “mated” to Ashur, which is like being married. I have been told so many things I don’t want to know. Things like: my mother exchanging blood with her new husband. Absorbing his strength, creating a strong and unbreakable bond. She is extremely powerful, having been created by an ancient and having mated with one as old as Ashur. I gulp some wine, and hope that maybe I’ll pass out soon, or at least, the knots in my stomach will fade.

  “He is here,” Claudette says.

  “Who’s here?” I slur.

  “Lucius,” Henri says. He rests his head on the back of the chair, his eyes on the elabora
te ceiling.

  “Who is Lucius?” I ask, waiting for anyone to answer.

  “My brother,” Aydin says.

  “You have a brother?” What? The last thing we need around here is another Aydin.

  “He is your Guardian,” Ashur tells me. He is now playing with Abigail’s hair. I drink more, emptying my glass.

  “Guardian? What is that?” I ask.

  “A Guardian is just that; a protector. A bodyguard. Someone who looks after a human and keeps them safe.”

  “Why do I need a Guardian?” Wait... I know why. Secret underground labs and magic genes are why I need one. I look to Aydin, “If I have a Guardian, why did you show up at the bar?”

  “I asked Lucius to stay in Florida to finalize some things,” Ashur tells me. “Aydin went to town because you knew him, and Lance could not have handled all three of the vampires.”

  I nod. Lucius, my vampire Guardian. Lance can’t handle too many vampires. Seems like he does just fine everyday working for them. In my fuzzy state, this all makes sense. Maybe in a sober one as well. Probably not. I rub my face in my hands, trying to clear my brain, and lookup to see a man, wearing a tight blue t-shirt and slacks, standing in the doorway, filling up the entry.

  Oh ... My ... Lord.

  I swear on my life, I can’t help the expression on my face. I glance to Claudette, my eyes big, and my lips pursed, trying to hide my shocked grin. It is the same expression Janice and I exchange when we see a man that is so impressive, we have to share the moment of his existence with someone else. This I am guessing is Lucius. For the first time, I truly wish Janice was here.

  Henri is beautiful and glowing. Aydin masculine and charismatic. Lucius is stunning. It may be the overly large muscles that ripple as he moves, or his fair, smooth skin. More than likely it has something to do with his soft cheeks and large pouty mouth. It definitely has a lot to do with his midnight blue eyes and the blond curls that frame his face. He is almost as tall as Aydin, but filled out and huge. He looks like a cherub. A large, manly cherub and he stands in front of me with a smile curved over his lips.

  “My son.” Ashur stands, his arms outstretched. “It is wonderful to have you home.”

  Lucius, the cherub hugs Ashur, kissing his cheeks. I sit opened mouth at the exchange. Lucius looks somewhere around my age, if not older. I wonder when I am going to get used to seeing the various ages that make up this family.

  Lucius turns to me and forces me to my feet. His smile is sly, like we share some secret. I do my best not to swoon. My entire face heats and I grin back, utterly ridiculous.

  “Finally, I get to see you up close instead of from the back of bars.” Lucius smiles again, showing large teeth. “It sounds a little strange when I say it like that. I wasn’t stalking you, really. Just doing my job.”

  I laugh as he winks. He holds my shoulders and he kisses the sides of my cheeks. His lips hard and rough, his smile devious.

  “I asked Lucius to make sure you were safe while in Florida,” Ashur says. “He has been your Guardian the last five years.”

  His words float in the room, even in my stupor it echoes. Five years. Since Emily’s death.

  “There is no way you followed me around and I didn’t see you,” I slur and swoon a bit more. The wine is making me giddy, or maybe it is him.

  “It wasn’t a hard task,” Lucius winks again. “You and your lovely friend Janice were usually thrown out on your asses before you could get into any real trouble.”

  A strangled, uncomfortable sound comes from my throat, and my stomach drops. He talks of Janice like he knows her. I don’t want any of them looking my Jan. It doesn’t matter that he looks literally, like a Guardian Angel and is more than likely the best-looking man the planet has ever seen.

  Lucius continues around the room hugging everyone, his voice loud, until he comes to Aydin. Lucius kisses both of Aydin’s cheeks, and they pound each other on the back, laughing at some private joke. They sit and start to talk quietly, grins on their mouths like they are conspiring. Their shoulders shake as they laugh. Each one glances my way before saying something I can’t hear.

  Ashur stands and pours himself a drink. My eyes follow his movements, each one is deliberate. Do they all do this out of habit? To appear normal? If it hadn’t been for Aydin’s display of power, or the strange hours, or that I had seen my mother, or well that they told me, I never would have known.

  So much for seeing things as they are.

  “So you are all family,” I say. “Ashur, you...turned them?”

  “Yes, Aydin, Lucius and Claudette’s are my offspring,” Ashur sips his drink. I wonder if it tastes different to him.

  “So then who made you? Who made my mother?”

  “Ludari,” Ashur says his name quietly. As if it were a sacred word, or worse, that it shouldn’t be spoken. “He is both my and Abigail’s Creator.”

  My face must show my thoughts, more than likely exaggerated by the amount of wine I have drunk.

  “The relationship between is not the same as with humans,” Ashur continues. “We call each other by the human name sometimes, simply to voice the bond that is made. It is common for us to ask our creators to turn a human, so we share a stronger bond with our mate.”

  “A vampire can’t turn a human and then mate with them?” I ask.

  “No,” Abigail says with a hint of disgust. “The creator becomes like a parent. That never changes.”

  “When did Lucius join your family?” I turn my attention back to Ashur. He seems to be in charge of the home and everyone in it.

  “He was turned shortly after Aydin. Lucius and Aydin were brothers in the ring. I bought Lucius as a boy, after Aydin was born.”

  Bought. Ring. I try to comprehend his words. I can’t. I let it go. It must be the wine and the fact I can barely stay in my seat. I turn to Claudette.

  “When were you...adopted?”

  Claudette smiles tight, her lips forming a thin line. “I was born into the family, just as you. And my mother before, and her mother, and so on.” She puts her hand on my knee. “You and I my dear, share the same family bloodline.”

  “What?” Claudette catches me before I can fall from my seat.

  “Ludari and Ashur have watched over our family for thousands of years,” she explains. “Our family is very important, Charlotte.”

  “We are actually related?” I ask.

  “Yes, distant cousins, many generations removed.” Claudette taps my leg and pours me more wine. I accept, grateful.

  “That is amazing,” I say. “You would have given me an ‘A’ on my history final.”

  My mother chuckles. She stands, brushing off Ashur. A shadow crosses over his face as she does. Seems he doesn’t like rejection.

  “Abigail and I will retire for the evening,” Ashur says. He takes my mother’s hand. She doesn’t brush him off this time. I see he holds power over her. He has done as she had requested and left Emily and I alone. Yet, she still seems to be paying the price. I watch as he leads my mother from the room. His young face is a deception. I feel a twinge of sadness for her. Only a twinge.

  “Charlotte is drunk,” Claudette announces, as if it weren’t obvious. “Henri, why don’t you take her to her room.”

  This makes me laugh. Henri stands and moves to bring me to my feet, but I slap his hands away.

  “I will send myself to my room,” I slur and stand, the room tilts. Shit. I try to remain upright and Henri reaches out to steady me.

  “Come, Char.” His voice is hard.

  “I don’t want anyone to touch me!” I scream and shove Henri away. Damn him. I don’t want his touch. His help. His affection or his love. He has been apart of all the lies and has known all along. Claudette makes a sound and leaves the room. I really don’t like her.

  “I can’t deal with you right now,” Henri says, annoyed. “I have work to do and I’m not in the mood.”

  “Oh, so sorry I’m making your life difficult, Henri,” I say, nastily
.

  Henri shoots me a look of disgust. “You need to lower your voice and calm down. You’re being overly dramatic.”

  I make a sound, deep in my throat. If there is one thing a man should learn early on in life, it’s to never tell a woman she is overreacting. Especially, a southern woman. It doesn’t matter if she is indeed being, overly dramatic. I slap him, hard, stunning even myself. Bright red lines form where my fingers have struck. His eyes flash dark and mean. His beautiful features twist and he reaches out, grabbing my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks. Tears sting my eyes. His mouth opens to speak but his head jerks back, and I am released.

  Lucius has his hand on the back of Henri’s head, holding him by the hair. Henri’s eyes shine, outraged, before Lucius releases him, sending Henri faltering back.

  “I don’t believe Abigail would like hearing that you have been impatient with Charlotte,” Lucius’ voice is velvet. He even smiles. His pupils have dilated and I can only see a thin ring of blue around them.

  Henri storms from the room without another word. His anger clings to me. I had known Henri as a boy, seen his anger and felt his love, his good. I have never seen the crazed look, or the possessive force that came off of him. I am too intoxicated to care and I sink back into my seat.

  “He can be a little prick sometimes.” I hear Lucius’ smooth honey voice and look to see him standing above me. Good lord. The man looks like a Viking God with his pale yellow curls.

  “So you’re my bodyguard?” I ask.

  “Guardian, yes,” his smile is coy. I have no idea what this means, but who cares. He can follow me anywhere.

  “Are all Guardians as beautiful as you?” I stand and grab his shirt to steady myself. I can feel his thick muscles underneath and I run my hands over his chest.

  Holy cow. He’s perfection personified.

  “Yes, pretty Little Bird, we are,” Lucius says, and glances at Aydin.

  My eyes land on Aydin. His brows are knitted together, his eyes dark, like he may murder the next person that speaks. I keep forgetting they know what I’m feeling. I groan inwardly.