“Stop!” I cry, tears of anguish streaming down my face. “Alexander, I don’t want any answers. I don’t care! I just don’t want you to get hurt! Please just stop. I won’t go with Avestan. Ever. I promise. Please just STOP!”
Alexander and Avestan freeze mid-strike and stare at me, their eyes wide. They’re looking above my head and I instinctively look up but don’t see anything. When I look down I catch a flash of shimmery white light around my hands but it’s gone before I can be sure. Is this what it means to see stars? I expect to awaken in a hospital bed at any moment.
Alexander runs to my side and puts his arm around me, hugging me close. His face and body are battered and misshapen but, as I watch, everything swollen shrinks back and settles into place the way it should be, like time-lapse photography of a healing wound. The same thing is happening to Avestan as he stands up and brushes off his coat.
That’s it. I’m dreaming.
“This isn’t over,” Avestan says with deadly determination. Silent fingers of fog swirl slowly around his feet as he turns and walks away.
Alexander looks into my eyes for a long beat. “We need to talk.”
I stare at him in a daze, still expecting to wake up at any moment.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod.
“Can I take you home?”
I nod again and he takes off his jacket and puts it around me as we walk to his car. He’s silent, deep in thought, during the drive.
I assumed he was taking me to my home, but he pulls into his driveway on the corner and comes around to open my door.
“This okay?” he asks.
I nod. I’m equal parts confused, curious, and convinced I’m actually still passed out on the sidewalk at school. As we go inside and close the door, a distinguished-looking older gentleman steps into the hallway from the kitchen and calls out, “How did the dance go?” He startles when he notices Alexander isn’t alone.
Alexander quickly introduces us. “Edwin, this is Declan. Declan, this is my grandfather, Edwin.” Surprise (or alarm?) flashes in Edwin’s eyes when Alexander says my name.
I hold out my hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ronin.”
He quickly regains his composure and answers with a reassuringly tight squeeze. “It’s a pleasure. Please call me Edwin.”
He raises an eyebrow in Alexander’s direction, and Alexander quickly ushers me down the hall. “Declan, let me show you to my room while I talk with Edwin for a minute.”
Why is he calling his grandfather by his first name? Is it an Australian custom? When we reach his room, Alexander asks if he can get me anything. I assure him I’m fine and he says he’ll only be a few minutes. The door remains open a crack when he leaves, enabling me to hear bits and pieces of their conversation in the kitchen down the hall.
“Why did you bring her here?”
“Edwin, I have to tell her.”
“What? Why?”
There’s a long, muffled reply that I can’t understand.
“This is highly dangerous … I don’t … you’ve gotten yourself into, Alexander. Unprecedented.”
“You saw her, Edwin. Everything about it … it’s all unprecedented.”
“Avestan saw it, too?”
“Yes… he’s threatening to tell her about us … he’ll twist the truth … convince her … and follow him. She’ll be … forever.”
“Are you sure about this? Can she be trusted with the truth?”
“I think so …. Yes, I know so.”
There’s a long stretch of silence.
“So you agree?”
“… don’t see what choice we have. But I saw the way you looked at her … putting yourselves … grave danger, Alexander. You cannot … your …vow.”
I can’t make out the rest and a minute later I hear footsteps coming down the hall so I run over and sit down on the edge of the bed.
Alexander opens the door slowly and closes it behind him before he walks over and sits down beside me. We turn to face each other and he takes my hands in his and looks into my eyes for a very long time.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he says softly, “I’m ready to tell you everything.”
Chapter Eight
“I don’t need you to tell me. I won’t listen to Avestan,” I say as I look into his worried eyes. As much as I desperately crave answers, I don’t want him to tell me until he’s ready—not forced—to share it. I’m also concerned, and a little frightened, about what I overheard. I don’t want to put anyone in danger, myself included.
“I want to tell you. You deserve answers. And with everything you’ve seen now, it’s more dangerous for you not to know what’s at stake,” he says softly.
After a long pause he looks down, nervously. “I don’t know quite where to start.”
Whatever it is that he’s about to say, his nervousness is making me more nervous by the second. “Maybe you could tell me how you know Avestan?” I suggest.
“Okay. How shall I put this.” He takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. My stomach flutters anxiously.
“We’re guardians,” he says, finally. “Well, Avestan is more like the opposite of a guardian, but Edwin and I are guardians.”
“Guardians?”
“Guardian spirits would be a more accurate way of putting it,” he elaborates reluctantly.
“Spirits? You mean as in ghosts?” I’m starting to wonder if Alexander and his grandfather are both a little nuts.
“No. More like spirits as in energy … angels,” he says, searching my eyes to read my reaction.
“You’re saying you’re my guardian angel?”
“Yes. But we’re guardians to all. Not just one person. We go where we’re most needed.”
I nod slowly, my eyes wide. It all sounds perfectly insane and I consider thanking Alexander very much for the information and then carefully and politely leaving because he’s obviously a lunatic.
But then I remember what I saw earlier … he and Avestan healed themselves before my eyes and the power behind their punches was frightening. And what were those flashes of light? I decide to keep asking questions. “If you’re a guardian, what is Avestan?”
“He’s a dark guardian.” He pauses. “This is hard to explain.”
He thinks this part is hard to explain? How about every other crazy thing he’s said so far?
“There’s a balance of energy in the world,” he continues. “Good and evil have always been inextricably bound. Avestan has embraced darkness and he and others like him are trying to tip the balance.”
“So he’s a dark angel?”
“Yes, you could call it that.”
“And you and Edwin are good angels?”
“Yes,” he smiles, looking relieved.
“And there are more good angels like you?”
“Yes, many more.” He smiles again. “The balance has always favored the good.”
“Are they all Australian?”
He looks at me wide-eyed and then bursts out laughing. I feel like an idiot, but how I love his laugh. When he collects himself, literally wiping tears from his eyes, he answers. “No, we come in all kinds—but I love that you asked. I needed that. I didn’t realize how nervous I was to tell you all of this.”
“Guess you’ll have a good one to share at the next angel meeting,” I say dryly.
He nods with a smile.
“You actually have meetings?”
“Yes,” he laughs, “once a fortnight.”
I nod, silent, taking it all in. This guy is definitely cray-cray.
“I know how all this must sound to you.”
I nod again, slowly. He doesn’t know the half of it.
After a pause he asks, “Do you have any more questions?”
Do I have any more questions? Is he serious? He thinks he can just tell me he’s an angel and we’re done? My mind is reeling and I’m still trying to decide if he’s insane. On the off chance he isn’t, I continue probing for more informatio
n.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen in this body. But I’ve existed far longer.”
“How much longer?”
“I’ve lived many lifetimes.”
“Are you saying you’re dead?”
He shakes his head. “Energy never dies.”
“So after we die, we become angels?”
“Sometimes. All energy lives on in some form.”
“How do you become an angel, then?”
“Those who are ready—usually after many lifetimes—have gained the wisdom to be realized as guardians.”
“So everyone becomes an angel, eventually?”
“Not everyone, no.”
“Where do dark angels come from?”
“Some are fallen guardians. But most, like Avestan, choose their path rather than continuing the cycle of mortal lifetimes.”
“Why?”
“Dark energy is a powerful force and some can’t resist.”
“If you’re a good angel, then why did you say it was dangerous for me to be around you?”
“If Avestan knew I cared for you, it would draw him to you. He and I … have a complicated history. I didn’t want him to focus on you because I didn’t want him to see.”
“See what?”
“Your special qualities.”
Okay, now I know he’s out of his mind.
“You’re an empath, for one,” he states matter-of-factly.
“A what?”
“You know those anxiety attacks you have?”
Oh my God, he knows about those?
“They’re not what you think,” he explains. “Empaths are sensitive to energy fields—they absorb the energy of those around them. It’s indiscriminate, but I can teach you to control it. You feel panic when you’re surrounded by strong negative energy from someone nearby … especially when there isn’t enough offsetting positive energy from others to temper it. It’s like being assaulted. It’s a natural reaction for you to run away to fend it off and recover.”
I’m reeling from what he just said. It sounds so simple. Can it be true? It does feel like being assaulted. I think back to some of my recent panic attacks … I felt that girl’s deep despair at the bus stop and I knew in my gut that her boyfriend was lying. The first day of school when I was alone in homeroom and Molly sat behind me I felt like I was drowning in black ink. Why does she hate me so much? As I mentally run through every panic attack I can remember, I realize Alexander may be right. My mom always said that I have an uncanny ability to pick up on people’s moods. I just didn’t realize I was literally picking them up.
“Okay, let’s say I believe you. But how does being an empath count as a special quality? It doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“Well, I know it doesn’t always feel good. And I can help you with that—to manage it so you’re not at the mercy of negativity around you. But it means you can sense good energy, too, and it makes you who you are, Declan. You’re sensitive and able to see the beauty in others that most people miss. Look at your friendship with Finn—you feel his true heart and not the blunt comments and missed social cues that most people tend to get hung up on. You’re kind and you’re able to see through people’s shells, into their souls. That’s a rare and beautiful gift.”
I’m touched by his words. It’s like my whole world has stopped and pivoted as I consider for the first time in my life that maybe I’m not broken.
“But that’s not your only special quality.”
“There’s more?”
“You have no idea,” he says, smiling. “I could go on for days.”
The utter sincerity in his voice takes me by surprise.
“You have one quality, in particular, that I didn’t want Avestan to see. You have a pure aura.”
My eyebrow lifts questioningly.
“Everyone has one. You can’t see them, but guardians can. I’ve never seen an aura like yours before on a mortal.”
“What do you mean? What do they look like?”
“It depends. They reflect the energy of each person. Your power as an empath allows you to sense auras without seeing them.”
“Are you saying you can just look around and tell good people from bad people by looking at their auras?”
“Not exactly. It’s rare that anyone is all good or all bad. Most people are still learning what’s essential. Also, auras fluctuate. From a distance they reflect superficial mood changes and reactions to circumstances. You don’t see the true richness of an aura until you’ve made a connection with the person. I saw your true aura the first time we talked. When you told me why you stood up to the Trunchbull and then you nearly slipped in your sandals as you walked away.” He looks into my eyes and smiles at the memory.
I blush, embarrassed.
“Declan, you were so beautiful when you spoke to me that day, I felt like I’d been hit by a thunderbolt. You opened my heart again to how purely good mortals can be. You looked like a magical pixie come to life out of a storybook.”
“Because I’m small?”
“No, because you’re beautiful—inside and out. And otherworldly. Your aura was so bright I wondered how everyone around us couldn’t see it.”
I search the sincerity in his eyes, at a loss for words.
“Declan, you’re so beautiful … and you have no idea. You wear your heart on your sleeve and you feel things so deeply. It’s what makes you tear up even when you don’t want to.”
“I hate that I do that. How do you know that about me?”
“Declan, I see you.”
Something about the way he says the words makes my eyes well up. As if he’s peering straight into my soul and I feel understood and accepted, and known.
“Can you see it right now?” I ask softly.
He nods and smiles. “It’s a bright white-blue light emanating out all around your body. It’s vivid and it’s beautiful.”
He sounds awed and his expression is sweetly sincere. I smile, not knowing what to say. He sees me so differently than I see myself.
“So your aura is your soul?”
“And your body is your shell,” he says, completing my thought. “It’s just a picture for the world—nothing more. Your picture is just like your aura, by the way. It’s beautiful, too.”
The way he makes me feel when he looks at me that way ... can he really be an angel? “What does your aura look like?” I ask.
“Guardians’ auras are bright white and immaculately pure. In our essential form, we’re only energy. Our aura is us.”
I nod, taking it all in. No wonder I always feel so good around him. I can tell by the way he’s choosing his words that there must be far more to it probably—beyond understanding. Human understanding, anyway.
“Why did you shout ‘no’ tonight when you saw me talking to Avestan?”
“Let me ask you something, did you feel a pull? Like you were going along with Avestan’s suggestions and you weren’t sure why?”
“Sort of … I remember thinking that everything he said sounded reasonable.”
“His energy was drawing you in. If he could convince you to ignore your misgivings and take his hand, willingly, it would have been an acceptance. He could have destroyed all the good inside you, Declan. Some dark angels turn easily-influenced people one by one, but others, like Avestan, take their time. They look for those with the strongest, brightest energy and either turn them or extinguish them. For dark energy to triumph, the balance has to shift, person by person and town by town. Eliminating even one person—if it’s the right one—can start a ripple effect. With an aura like yours, you must be close to being realized, and that’s a very powerful thing.”
“Being realized?”
“Yes, becoming a guardian.”
“So if I went with him I would have become dark, like Avestan?”
“Worse. You would have been left in an empty place for eternity, forbidden to guardians and out of my reach. Your essence would be gone … it’s not
something I want to think about.”
“I don’t understand why he wants me—how I could make a difference.”
“Everyone makes a difference. The balance is always close. Dark energy has risen and fallen through millennia and good and evil have always struggled for supremacy. It’s happening now, all over the world. Many places have already tipped. Our job is to fight against it and make sure it doesn’t spread.”
“So you were sent to protect me?”
“We were sent to protect San Mar. To bolster and defend our majority here. We go where we’re needed. Other guardians do the same. I gravitated towards your energy quickly.”
“And Avestan was sent to destroy me?”
“Yes. Or he followed me here, but I suspect he would have found you anyway.”
“Why?”
“Your energy. Avestan and the others like him seek to destroy the brightest lights and spread darkness among the rest. They turn people, inciting them to look out for themselves at the expense of others and focus on greed and power, intolerance and differences. The truth is, we’re all the same, we’re all connected, and we’re all energy. There are no divisions. When mortals establish hierarchies that raise one group over another based on beliefs, gender, race, or anything else, they’re missing the essential perfection of the universe. Dark energy can twist positive teachings and make people do hateful, evil things in the name of what they convince themselves is good.”
“How?”
“To paraphrase Hemingway, ‘Gradually, then suddenly.’ A dark angel’s influence starts small and eventually takes over.”
“It sounds bleak.”
“It can feel that way, but when mortals look to their better angels, as they say, there’s always one around. Even small positive actions can spur virtuous circles that help maintain the balance.”
I nod slowly. I have so many more questions but I feel exhausted. What I want to ask next seems silly in comparison to the weighty issues we’ve been discussing but I have to know.
Guardian (The Guardian Series Book 1) Page 9
