Guardian (The Guardian Series Book 1)

by A. J. Messenger

  Twisted notions consume my thinking all night long and I start to doubt everything I ever believed. I detest Avestan for injecting these thoughts into my head. I can’t bring myself to accept any of it as true, but one thing is painfully clear: he planted a seed of doubt.

  I barely sleep. Sunday morning I don’t have to work so I lay in bed all day, morose and confused. I have an English paper due Monday but I can’t conceive of trying to focus on The Sound and the Fury so I put it off.

  A big part of me wants to march over to Alexander’s house and demand to know who Alenna is. But why am I letting it consume me? Nothing Avestan says can be trusted. I tell myself to just put it out of my mind. My plan to break up with Alexander succeeded. I should let it be, right? Mission accomplished.

  And yet … I’m obsessed with the question of Alenna. If I ask and Alexander doesn’t know what I’m talking about, I can rest easy that Avestan made it up. If I get a reaction, however ...

  In a moment of weakness, I pick up my phone to text Alexander. I changed his name in my contact list so that it shows up as “Don’t do it!” to prevent myself someday from doing this very thing, but I ignore my own warning and type a message. It’s short and to the point: “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Alenna?”

  Before I can stop myself I tap “send.”

  I drop the phone quickly onto my nightstand as if it’s a burning coal and I chastise myself for my weakness—both for lending possible credence to anything Avestan told me, and also for communicating with Alexander. If what I know in my heart is true, I’m putting him in danger by contacting him. Oh, Declan, what have you done? Stupid, stupid girl.

  A moment later I hear the familiar ding of an incoming text.

  I pick up my phone, hand trembling, and read Alexander’s reply: “Who told you?”

  That’s all he wrote but it’s all I need to know. Alenna exists and he didn’t want me to know about her. My heart dislodges and drifts like a paper doll to settle, torn, at my feet. I stare at the text for a long time, digesting it.

  A flash of light outside and a loud crack of thunder startle me from my rumination. It was raining earlier, but now it’s pounding on the roof so loudly it sounds like a freight train rushing past. According to Edwin the storms are a sign that Avestan’s influence is growing. But maybe that’s all a lie. It’s raining because it’s April, isn’t that the more likely explanation?

  Thunderstorms in San Mar are rare, though. “Ugh,” I groan aloud, I could go back and forth like this for days. I have to stop the insanity and focus on something other than dark angels, bad weather, and exquisitely beautiful guardians named Alenna.

  With a heavy sigh, I reach over and grab my laptop so I can finish my English paper. Anything to stop my mind from cycling endlessly, trying to parse truth from lies. Before I get started, in true procrastinator’s form, I decide to access the San Mar Sentinel online. I want to see what the local paper has to say about the weather. As the website comes into view, the top headline grabs my attention: “Strange Lights Reported Again over San Mar.” I click to read reports of mysterious flashes of light near the beach flats area. The same area where the surge in violence and crime started. No explanation has been found and the majority conclusion is that it’s simply lightning, but eyewitnesses insist they’ve seen the flashes on clear days. A small, vocal group is claiming it’s a U.F.O. presence. The article concludes with no answers and an open call for readers to submit photos. I’m not sure what to make of it. More proof of Edwin’s claims? Or just lightning storms that Californians aren’t used to?

  I open up my essay and force myself to focus on my assignment. I realize as I’m typing that the truth about what Avestan told me doesn’t matter. Whether it’s because Alexander and I truly can’t be together or because it’s all been a cruel hoax and Alexander doesn’t want to be with me, the result is the same: We’ll never be together. What does it matter what the reason is?

  My heart is broken either way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alexander isn’t at school the next day, or any other day the entire week. I’m worried but at the same time I wonder if he’s avoiding me so he won’t have to explain Alenna. Or worse, maybe he’s with Alenna. I never texted him back and, curiously, (and, in my opinion, damningly) he didn’t text again.

  It isn’t easy but I keep trudging ahead and try to focus on normal things, like school and work, rather than dark angels and guardians and the world tipping toward evil. Liz, Finn, and I are in the quad having lunch and Liz is discussing her upcoming birthday. The afternoon is gorgeous with endless blue skies and nary a cloud to see. I toy with the idea that the weather is a good sign but honestly I don’t know what to think anymore. Regardless, it’s Friday and I hope it stays nice through the weekend. How I’ve missed the sun. I close my eyes and lean back on my arms to absorb the warmth of the rays on my face.

  “Will you help me plan it?” asks Liz. “My mom wants to do it, but if I let her run with it unchecked who knows what we’ll end up with—maybe another troupe of illustrated men in Speedos or that contortionist guy like last year. Remember that? Watching him cram his entire body into that tiny acetate box still gives me nightmares.” We both laugh aloud at the memory. “We need to feed my mom normal ideas to keep her within the realm of the sane.”

  “I don’t know—I actually love your mom’s broad interpretation of entertainment. I’d like to see what she comes up with on her own,” I threaten with a laugh.

  Liz’s father is a successful venture capitalist and her mom is an eccentric artist who loves to throw parties that are completely over the top. With money as no object, the events can get pretty out there. It embarrasses Liz to no end but I find the entertainment fascinating. Mrs. Warner always incorporates some bizarre performance art elements and, if nothing else, it makes for great stories. We usually end up laughing afterwards until our stomachs hurt.

  “Do you work this Saturday?” she asks.

  “Yes, but only until two.” I welcome the distraction planning a party will provide.

  “Great. Come over Saturday after work and we’ll brainstorm,” Liz says. “Finn, you’re invited, too, of course.”

  “Right, because you know how much I love party planning,” Finn replies dryly. Liz and I laugh. “I think you guys can handle it without me,” he adds.

  After school I work until closing and then I’m scheduled again Saturday morning. Keeping busy makes the weekend bearable. I line up a babysitting gig with the Bings all day Sunday, too. My mom is leaving for a week-long work training seminar on Sunday morning and I don’t want to be alone all day with nothing to distract me. I’m looking forward to seeing Charlie and occupying myself with knight and dragon battles.

  On Saturday, curiosity gets the better of me and I ride my bike past Alexander’s house twice on my way to and from work, but no one appears to be home. I feel as if someone is watching me, though. Hopefully it’s a guardian. What if it’s one of Avestan’s dark angels? I look around and everyone is a suspect. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I can’t help but wonder where Alexander and Edwin have gone and if their absence involves Avestan. Or Alenna.

  I arrive at Liz’s house at three on Saturday and her mom answers the door. “Hi, Fran, how are you?” I ask. It’s been drilled into me never to call her “Mrs. Warner.” She says it makes her feel old.

  “I’m great, Declan, it’s so nice to see you! Apologies for my appearance, I’m in the middle of a creative inspiration.” She has a streak of paint on her cheek and she wipes her hands on the large pinstriped oxford dress shirt she’s wearing, leaving smeared trails of orange and red paint down the front. “I’m sorry to say that Liz isn’t here, dear.”

  “She isn’t? I thought we had plans. Maybe I misunderstood.”

  “No, you’re right. We were all going to discuss ideas for the party. But she got a call and she was out the door. I thought she went to your house—do you think you passed her on the way over?”

  “May
be,” I say, puzzled. “I’ll go back home and see if she’s there. Thanks. It was nice seeing you.”

  “You too, dear, and tell Liz when you see her that I already have a few ideas I know she’ll love,” she replies cheerily.

  As she closes the door, I hear Liz’s dad call out in alarm in the background, “Fran, what in God’s name is going on in the kitchen? And is that another one of my good shirts you’re ruining?”

  I laugh as I walk to my bike. Before I leave, I call Liz and she answers on the first ring.

  “I see you in the driveway,” she says, “I’ll be right there. Sorry I’m late.”

  I look up to spot her driving towards me down the street. She pulls in and tells me she had to run some papers over to Finn’s house for their next debate.

  “I didn’t think I’d be long but when I got there, he’d just gotten back from a long bike ride and he looked so cute and …” Liz explains, blushing.

  “Enough said,” I say, putting up my hand to stop her. “Glad you were able to resist him and make it back at all.”

  Liz hits my arm and we laugh as we go inside.

  “Has Finn always been so smart?” We’re through discussing party ideas and now we’re having an early dinner by the pool at Liz’s house. Mrs. Warner is asking me about Finn as a child.

  “Yes. Always,” I say. “I remember he was so bored the first day of kindergarten he raised his hand and said, ‘Excuse me, I already know this information. I didn’t sign up for this.’ When our teacher, Mrs. Minka, told him his mom had signed him up he raised his hand again and asked what time it was. She told him and he said, ‘I think I have somewhere else to be at this time.’”

  Liz and Mrs. Warner laugh.

  “They tested him and he was moved to an accelerated class the next day I think. His mom didn’t want him to move too far ahead though because she wanted him to be around kids his age.”

  “Were you guys really friends with Molly as kids?” asks Liz.

  “Yeah. Hard to believe, I know. She was okay in preschool and by the time we got to elementary school our parents had set up carpools and stuff that kept us together even when we didn’t want to be. I remember one day Finn came over when he was about six or seven and told me that he never wanted to play with Molly again. He had been at her house after swim class and they decided to have roly poly races. They each found three roly polys and they put them on the ground and drew a finish line with chalk. Eventually one of the roly polys crossed the line and Finn was jumping up and down because it was one of his. You know how he likes to win.”

  Liz nods.

  “Anyway, when he turned around, he saw Molly smushing the other roly polys with her thumb, one by one. He cried out, ‘What are you doing?!’ And she said, ‘They’re losers. They don’t deserve to live.’ Finn ran inside and told Molly’s mom and she got in big trouble. Molly was mean to him for a long time after that. But don’t ask Finn about it—he still gets upset that she killed those roly polys, to this day.”

  “Jesus, that girl is diabolical,” says Liz.

  “Her mom is nice—a little spacey, but well meaning. But her dad, Roger, was always an asshole,” says Mrs. Warner. “What Molly said about losing sounds like it came straight from his mouth.”

  I’m shocked. I’ve never heard Mrs. Warner speak negatively about anyone. “Did you know the Bings well?” I ask. “When they were still together?”

  She nods. “We moved here about a year before they divorced. We tolerated Roger at parties. I felt for Charlene, but I wasn’t brokenhearted—or surprised—when they split. It was right before Charlie was born and I think Molly blames the divorce on that poor kid. It’s no wonder Charlene pays you to babysit even when Molly’s home. Roger and his new wife have two kids, I heard. He hardly sees Molly or Charlie anymore … it’s sad. I’m saying too much, though. I shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine. I hate to be a gossip.” She stands abruptly. “Anyone want some more hummus before I take it inside?”

  I shake my head. I’m still digesting Mrs. Warner’s story—it explains a lot. “Thanks again for dinner,” I say as I stand up alongside her. “I should probably get going. My mom’s leaving tomorrow morning. Can I help clean up before I go?”

  “Thanks, dear, but no need. I’m just putting it all in the dishwasher. Anna is coming in the morning.” Anna is their housekeeper. “It was so nice to see you, Declan. Maybe you can convince Liz to go with that idea we talked about.” She winks at me.

  Over her mom’s shoulder, I see Liz with her eyes open wide in mock alarm. She shakes her head slowly as she mouths the word “no.” We laugh as she walks me through the kitchen into the foyer.

  “What? You’re not on board with the mime troupe? Or the living sculptures?” I ask Liz jokingly. “I actually liked the human bowling idea.”

  “Et tu Brute?” replies Liz as she shoves me out the door.

  When I get home, my mom is busy packing. “I sent you an email with my itinerary so you have my flight numbers and hotel,” she says.

  “Do you want me to drive you to the airport tomorrow?”

  “No, Julie’s picking me up.” Julie is her good friend and co-worker. “I’ll have my cell phone with me so you can call if you need anything.”

  “I’ll be fine, mom.”

  “No raging parties while I’m gone, by the way.”

  “Yeah, right. You foiled my secret plan.”

  “Are you really going to be okay, hon?” she asks, searching my eyes with concern. “I mean with Alexander and everything? I can cancel this trip if you don’t want to be alone. No kidding—I know all this stuff and I’ll take any excuse to avoid a week spent with Fred Fillner.”

  I smile. “That’s ridiculous. I would never ask you to cancel your fantasy week with Fred.”

  She laughs. “It’s so good to see you smiling. It makes me feel better about leaving.”

  “I’ll be fine, mom. Really. I’m going to keep busy with school and work and go for a lot of long runs. It’s only a week and I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  She gives me a hug and I help her finish packing before we both go to bed early. I’m grateful to be babysitting the next day—anything to keep my mind off Alexander.

  I arrive at the Bing’s house at ten the next morning but Mrs. Bing’s car isn’t in the driveway. I knock but there’s no answer. I ring the bell and knock again.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Molly says with an impressive lack of enthusiasm as she swings open the door. “I didn’t think you were coming until later.”

  “Your mom said to come at ten.”

  She doesn’t move.

  “Can I come in?” I ask.

  “Charlie’s not here.”

  “What? Where is he?”

  “Relax. I’m sure my stupid mom will still pay you. My boyfriend took the little pest to the park.”

  “The park down the street?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “All right. Well how about I go and relieve him. Who’s your boyfriend?” I didn’t know Molly was going out with anyone. Her last boyfriend was the quarterback of the football team but he broke up with her when she cheated on him with his best friend.

  “You wouldn’t know him. He’s in college. We met at a beach party.”

  “Oookay ... does he have a name?”

  She sighs as if I’m burdening her with tedious questions. “He’s tall and hot. You can’t miss him. His name is Avestan.”

  The expression on my face startles Molly. For a split second I’m frozen. Then, in one fluid movement, I turn and run to my bike as waves of horror ripple down my spine. I can’t let the shock overtake me.

  “Jesus, what’s your problem?” calls out Molly in irritation.

  I’m gone before she closes the door. I tear down the street and continue over the sidewalk and onto the grass in the middle of the playground, where I stop to look around. I don’t see them anywhere. Maybe Molly was wrong about which park they went to.

  Then I s
ee it.

  On the edge of the bench where Avestan was sitting when I saw him here that day. The stark, gray snowglobe Avestan gave to Charlie and I threw out.

  Before I can process what it means, my phone vibrates in my purse and I pull it out quickly to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. Three simple words stop me in my tracks:

  “Looking for Charlie?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  My center falls through my body and my line of vision grows very small. Not Charlie. No.

  The horror I feel is asphyxiating. “Why Charlie?” I type.

  The reply drops me to my knees.

  “Bait.”

  I caused this.

  The world spins in slow motion and I feel the cool, wet grass seep through my jeans as all air collapses around me. My phone rings and I slowly raise it to my ear.

  “Hello, Declan.” Avestan’s voice is deep and smooth.

  “Why?” I whisper. “He’s just a child. Bring him back. Let me talk to him.”

  Avestan’s reply is slow to come, and chilling. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

  “I don’t believe he’s with you. I need to talk to him,” I plead.

  “That isn’t possible.”

  It’s not possible? Has he hurt him? Panic beats like a hummingbird in my chest. “Why are you doing this?” I entreat. “He’s an innocent child. Do whatever you want to me, but please let him go.”

  His reply drips acid. “You did this. I gave you the chance—several times—to come willingly. Now I’ve taken the choice out of your hands. In one hour at eleven you will meet me in front of the Big Dipper at the boardwalk. Come alone and tell no one. I’m watching. Deviate from these instructions in any way and I can assure you that no one will ever see Charlie again.”

  I beat back the panic rising in my chest using willpower I didn’t know I had. “I’ll be there,” I say in a choked whisper. But there’s no reply, only dead air.