In the Shadow of Angels: The Guardian Series 1

by Savage, Fanny Lee

  My mind was cleared, my eyes opened. Light danced in the shadows, revealing the world in ways humans had not ever seen. I had memories from my birth, of seeing my mother as she lay dying. I felt her mouth kiss mine, her sad breath as she let get go of her mortal life and gave it to me. Visions of my childhood: Lucius and I playing, small round boys, of the doctore holding and kissing my head, the tears for the woman he had loved washing me. Of sin and lust, the men I had killed, of the hands that had battered me or lay upon me in greed. Memories that lay buried deep, never meant to be seen.

  I could hear people talking, clear, as if in the room with me, but knew instinctively they were very far away. Their voices carried, I could hear their whispers, so far away, yet it was as if their mouths were pressed to my ears. Bodies moved thorough the house above, the smell of torches, of earth and sweat. The sweet sticky blood that ran through them. My teeth grew long at the scent, my throat burned with a desire deep in the very pit of my being. It tore at my center, the thick metallic scent calling to my soul. I was wicked. Unnatural. I wanted to taste the essence. To drink the life that coursed through them and I knew then, I was no longer human.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  When Charlotte arrived at the chateau, it had been five years since I had seen her. Lucius, my brother, has become her sole Guardian. In my world, five years is the blink of an eye. Not seeing Charlotte, five years felt like a thousand lifetimes. My eyes had not seen the light of the sun for too long. I had forgotten its warmth encased only in the cold darkness. Charlotte brings me the sun. She smells of it. Radiates its heat.

  The night of the accident sits in my mind perfectly. A grotesque painting of bold red blood and black velvety death. It will never leave me. I can still hear the metal tearing, bending and breaking their bones. The toxic smell of loss and betrayal still fills my nose. The hideous stench of death. Charlotte’s screams still echo in my ears. The visions of the car crashing, then resting in ruins, stain my soul.

  For the first time in my too long life, I knew what real failure was. I had failed my father. My family. Abigail. I had been her protector, too. She was a beautiful small girl that I had cared for. When the time came, I was given the job to keep her daughters safe. She had trusted me.

  From the moment they drew their first breath, it could be felt. Ashur would not tolerate one of his Golden Twins held darkness. He turned his back to it, hiding what we all knew. Emily smelled of dankness and metal. Something cruel and ancient had twisted itself to her, binding her up in its evil.

  Charlotte was pure light. I could feel her in every cell of my being. She was sunshine and fragrant air. Fresh grasses and salty water. It flowed from her, soft and subtle, reaching out to me. I could feel her life and the substance that created her. They were as different as night and day. Just as beautiful as darkness and light.

  It is a terrifying feeling, to care for such fragile beings. Their life lay balanced in my hands. Ashur had placed it there, instructing I Guard them from the evils that wanted to destroy them. From the Organization that would use them for greed, just as he planned to. There had been many children before them. I had been Guardian to hundreds of small girls that grew into beautiful women. Yet, there was something in these two girls that I had not ever witnessed. They both held such power, of the gods themselves. They drew me to them, magnetic forces, with beauty and innocence.

  Abigail had insisted that her daughters would not know of the darkness they had been born into. She held such little power over their future, but I assured my father there would be no harm in granting Abigail her wish. It was the one gift I could give her. Her awful life had been my fault. I had been unable to protect her from the fate bestowed upon her. Abigail’s daughters would not know the hard world she had been forced to live. Innocence lost too early, too much knowledge of evil. Emily and Charlotte would not grow up in darkness, I promised her, only in the shining light of day.

  I watched the subtle beauty bloom as they grew older. In the shadows, at arms length. Never touching their faces, or speaking to them, as I had with others. I even watched over Henri. He is just as important. I think I may have felt love for him then as well.

  When Henri had been sent to live with the girls, Ashur instructed him to never tell Emily and Charlotte of our existence, and never utter my name. He was a good, sweet boy. I would hear the three of them at night whisper and tell stories as I watched from the woods. Their smiling faces and little bodies comforting each other in the darkness.

  Henri did as he was told. He grew with them, never telling Emily or Charlotte of the dark life that awaited. I watched as he changed. He had started out innocent, but it is true, with knowledge comes great power, and he held too much. When Charlotte confessed of her abilities, he knew the importance. Something in him began to change, yet even I refused to acknowledge it.

  As they grew, Emily deceived everyone. She stole the light from Charlotte, mimicked it and used it as her own. No one could see past her for the longest time. Emily demanded center stage. She forced Charlotte in the shadows. But no one could hide Charlotte’s beauty, her pure heart. Charlotte stood out even when she tried to hide.

  Emily discovered what was in store. The darkness their futures held. Her hatred for Charlotte grew, it blackened her heart and stained her red. I wanted to change her heart. Tell her to love her sister and let Charlotte fill her with light as she did me. But I couldn’t. I was merely a shadow in the corners of their lives.

  On that night, I had been there watching over them. I hadn’t seen them in too many years. My duties to my father in France had kept me away. The lovely little girls had become enchanting women. Emily was bewitching, her short dress showed off her curves. Her hair caught fire in the artificial light, flares of dangerous embers. I loved that she held such power. She embraced it, controlling the very air she breathed.

  Charlotte was mesmerizing. She had grown in the shadow of Emily, but that night she outshone her twin. I had to keep men from touching her. She was alive and bright, like soft mornings and lustful promises. Her body, like Emily’s, but her skin softer. A sprinkle of freckles over her shoulders, her cheeks, and the tops of her thighs. Light kisses of sunshine. I could see in her eyes, the glint of truth; she knew she was beautiful. Yet she had no idea the power she held.

  When they left, I was forced to stay behind. The girls had been spotted. A vicious pack of hungry wolves, their fangs elongated, excited after watching the girls move. I killed them. Everyone. I tore at their flesh removing their lustful eyes. The terrible sound of their screams filled me, fueled me. I was savage and out of control. No one would touch Emily. No horrible evil would ever touch Charlotte’s beautiful light.

  The disgusting lust for blood clouded my mind, I was far behind. Too far. Emily’s death bloodied my hands, it seeped into my skin and remains there to this day. Charlotte’s pleads tore at my ears until I thought they would bleed. I deserved the torture. I deserve far worse.

  What does a man do when he loves two women? When he’s loved too many lives and seen too much sorrow? When faced with a decision that would tear the very women he loved apart? If I were a man, maybe I would have known the answer. But I haven’t been, not for far too long.

  Almost two thousand years had brought me to them. Emily and Charlotte’s faces lay behind my eyes in the darkness. They had brought me to point of ruin. I was faced with a choice. I had to trade one for the other. Emily’s life lay in my hands, I had only seconds to decide. I am not proud of my decision that night. Emily was fading, her dark shadow passing. My blood may have saved her. There may have been time. But I didn’t try, I will never know. The truth of those words tears at my soul, at the life my mother had given for me.

  Charlotte’s life was fragile, her light was dimming, death strangling her. One cruel hand clasped over Emily’s mouth, too late, the other at Charlotte’s throat, her breaths ragged and painful. Her sorrow filled the night. It spilled out and dimmed the stars, the moon faded, hiding its face to her pain
.

  For years, I was their shadow, their unknown protector. I had longed to kiss their cheeks, to run my hands over their golden hair. Nothing more than to wrap my arms around their warm bodies and protect them from evil. From the monster that lie hidden.

  For the first time, I touched her. Charlotte’s skin was just as soft as I had imagined. Her scent so strong, like the warm sands of a dawn flooded ocean, just as I remembered from so long ago. My fingers stroked her lips and wiped the tears from her face. The very tears I had caused. I forced my blood down her throat, my fingers pressed to her lips.

  It was made clear that night, my intentions were unclean. I was no better than the darkness that wanted to consume her. I was just as evil and just as greedy. My blood could have destroyed her, but the thought of her dying was more than my mind could bear. I wonder if it was the grace of gods that saved her, allowing my blood to heal her wounds.

  I can never claim her. I can never mark her, but I know my blood flows through her, binding her to me.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  My punishment is poetic, scripted from deceit. It fits my crimes. I am a liar and a murderer. Full of wickedness and greed. I deserve nothing less. Abigail’s tears stained my being. I bathed in them, I drank them up and they gave me strength to move forward. Her broken eyes, I had seen a thousand times. From girls whose lives were stolen. I caused their darkness. I deserve her pain.

  In the peaceful golden years of the girls’ youth, I took shelter under the mill, in old tunnels carved in the Earth many years ago by slaves. Their weary hands had created them and carried the mill’s goods. The dirt walls held their secrets, the lives that burst with passion. The desire for freedom, for laughter and love.

  My days were spent, too long, awake and unable to sleep. I was too powerful and far too old. I could hear the children play, their small sounds filling my ears. Tinkling sounds that washed away the ghosts that haunted the caves.

  At night, I would walk in the woods and listen to their small laughter. They were safe, I made sure of it. Nothing could break through the barrier I built. Nothing could harm them. Except the evil that lay hiding within.

  Lucius was there often, he would come to visit, sometimes even relieve me for long stretches at a time. It became apparent the children’s laughter was wearing on me and times were not always easy. I cared for the three, but Emily’s darkness made me weary, Henri’s obsession with Charlotte angered me.

  During this time, I would be free for weeks or months. Several times I left for years. I traveled the world, hunted, filled myself with the sins of the flesh. I loved each woman who gave herself to me. The power they held, shone in their eyes, the knowledge that they were giving me a gift. Not just of their blood, but of their trust, to show them I could overpower them, but leave them free to dismiss me if they chose.

  After spending years traveling, I returned to find that the girls were suddenly fifteen, awkward and rebellious. I laughed when they stole their first bottle of rum from Stephan’s study. Abigail knew, but I convinced her to let them get away with it, to give them this small act, allowing them to grow.

  After Henri had left the plantation, I listened to Charlotte weep. I worried most of the time about her. She seemed frailer than Emily. She trusted blindly and loved too hard. Her suffering, her confusion, were physically painful to witness, and I called upon Lu to take over often that last summer.

  When Charlotte found her voice behind the lens of the camera, it was beautiful to watch. She grew and found her strength. She carried her camera everywhere, developing the images each night, storing the ones she liked most in a box. The others she threw away, memories of life she didn’t want or need, to move forward.

  It became hard to see her as the temperamental little girl who ran through the plantation, her dresses tattered and shoes scuffed. Surely this wasn’t the same child who climbed the oak trees and teased Henri. It was as if she had packed up her childhood and stored it away, emerging a new person. And maybe she had. Abigail’s sudden departure almost sent her over the brink.

  When the girls went to college, Lucius followed Emily out of state and I was to remain and watch over Charlotte. It is during these years the role of a Guardian changes. We are more distant, forced to sit back and simply watch. A shield is created, a circle of safety around them. We are often close, but no so that we hear the daily lives of our charges. Simply close enough, that we will know of immediate danger.

  Instead, we rely more on humans. They become their new bodyguards, seen in the background, driving them places. Guardians do not interfere, regardless of how many poor choices we witness. I don’t lie to myself. It was a relief when Emily moved back home allowing Lu to take over Guarding them. My father had called me back to France and I didn't have to sit idly any longer. At times, I wonder if this is why he has become too attached to Charlotte. Lu saw first hand the years of self-destructive behavior and, unfortunately, the aftermath of my failures.

  After the accident, I had only minutes before my father would arrive. We were so close to the plantation, they would be there to see the ruin for their own eyes. I altered that night and covered Emily’s deceit in a blanket of lies. No one must discover the truth. Abigails suffering was already too great. Henri would never know his actions had driven the one he saw as his friend, his sister, to attempt to kill the very woman he lived and breathed for. I bear the weight alone.

  Ashur left my sentence up to Abigail. It is only because of her open heart I was allowed to live, or, it may have been her thirst for revenge to see me suffer. For a hundred years, I was to waste. Not allowed to drink the essence of life that consumes my thoughts, and drives my hands to kill. Only when Abigail allows, am I to hunt and drain a single deer. Enough to keep me suspended in the world. Enough to serve as a reminder of my failures. I suffer the humiliation. My disgusting lust had caused it. My own lies had formed my punishment.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Charlotte’s laughter rings out from behind the door, it is soft and breathy. Lucius is telling her the role of a Guardian as he explains why we were in her life. Most of this I believe Abigail has told her, but it is good Lu is making sure she understands. He makes her calm, and she is relaxed being near him. This is a relief, she is so tense all the time.

  I stand outside the parlor, my hand outstretched and ready, but I cannot seem to open the door. Abigail has told her the truth. The version I created. There is a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that worries Charlotte remembers that night.

  I didn’t want her to find out this way. My plans had been to tell her, but she had not been in the best state of mind the previous evening. Claudette had managed to humiliate Charlotte and raise my father’s anger. Something that I try not to do. My life is precarious at best.

  Lucius knows I stand outside. He can sense my hesitation, even my fear. Once I walk through the doors, it will show in her eyes. I’m not sure if I want to know. I’m not sure that I can bear her disappointment.

  Before thinking further, I open the door. She sits on the settee next to Lu. Her face blanches. I have to suck in air to stay on my feet. I shut the door and walk to sit across from them. My eyes keep hers as I lower myself to the chair.

  Charlotte’s eyes are wide and there are lines in the corners. So full of fear, open with alarm, like the deer I killed and blamed for Emily’s treachery. Her entire face is tense, a crease between her brow makes her look too serious. She is wound so tight, I fear she may burst out into the room around us.

  The truth sits between us, dense, and as palpable as if it were alive. I’m not sure what to say to her. My hands tore the pieces of her life apart. Her blue eyes move over my face and down to my hands, as if she is seeing me for the first time. She, I know, is waiting for me to make the first move. I can’t help but wonder what she expects I will do.

  Charlotte’s pulse thumps in her neck, her hands clutch at the hem of her red dress, pulling the fabric tight over her thighs. Her face is pale and stands out agai
nst the bright red. A large flower is sewn, just above the waist, into the material. It reminds me of the spindly flowers that sit on the sides of the roads. The flower looks sad, drooping as she shifts, uncomfortable. Her golden hair is pulled back loose and a few tendrils, bright waves, fall around her face. I want to reach out and brush them away from her eyes.

  Lucius says that we have spent too much time standing around while little girls play with dolls that we notice these things. What they wear and how they behave. I do not disagree. He says it makes us weak and we care too deeply for them. This was a problem Lucius has always had. He loves too hard, leaving himself open for pain and the inevitable loss of separation. Part of me wonders if I too, suffer from this terrible infliction. Of caring too much. Then again, I am her Guardian. No... I was. This responsibly has been given to my brother.

  It is no longer my duty to worry her nails are too short, chewed down to the quick. That her hands shake, and she grabs at her clothes when she feels fear. It is no longer my worry her breathing is too shallow and too fast. I needn’t be concerned that she may be drinking too much or making one poor decision after another.

  Charlotte has not moved her eyes from me. I see that her chin is quaking, and she bites her lip to keep it steady. Fear spills out into the room with us. She is terrified.

  Charlotte remembers. Everything.

  I glance down at my hands, fighting to keep them from digging at the tightness in my chest. Somehow, this seems far worse than if she thought that I had failed to protect her. When I look back, she is still watching me. Is she scared that I know the truth? Surely she knows by now I would never reveal Emily’s actions.