Personal Guardians

by Rachel A. Collett

  “Cedric—” She carefully laid him on the ground. “I’m too weak to heal him. Come, now!”

  Cedric was already at his side.

  “No.” Dr. Maynes pushed at his grandfather’s hands but was too weak to be effective.

  The Healer closed his eyes, trying to see the injury. His brows pulled together in deep concentration, but a moment later he hesitantly removed his hands.

  “Cedric, heal him!” Fiona’s voice was frantic, half-crazed. “Please!”

  Cedric shook his head. “You have to have a willing heart, my love. You know that. He’s not letting me.”

  Fiona looked down upon the man. “Benito…” she soothed, smoothing the sparse hair on top of his head. “Benito. Let your grandpa heal you.”

  I hadn’t realized I was hugging myself until Darius’s arm wrapped around me from behind. He pulled me into him, strong and supportive. A tear escaped the corner of my eye.

  I had no love for the doctor, especially after his confession, but I hadn’t wanted him to die either.

  Dr. Maynes smiled faintly at Fiona, speaking between shallow and blood-coated breaths. “Immortals’ children are meant to die… horrible deaths, Nana. Surely you must know…”

  And then the doctor slipped away.

  A long time passed before the wailings of the immortal Healer were quiet. Fiona was taken from the library straight to her garden by her husband.

  It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that I finally fell into a restless sleep. As I wallowed dreamless in my misery, a slow song crept its way into consciousness, carried across a nonexistent breeze that brushed against my face. Its melody wrestled my attention.

  Darius’s chest vibrated as he hummed. His deep voice reverberated within me. I strained to hear the words he sang. Enchanted and confused by his tune, I opened my eyes. He stopped when he saw me watching, and my heart sank.

  If I were brave, I would have asked him to keep singing. And if I were bold, I would have stayed nestled in his arms… but I was neither.

  He released me when I began to squirm. I didn’t have time for such weakness. Annoyed at my frequent frailty, I sat up next to him on my bed.

  Weary from the late night, I had allowed him to take me to my room and clean my bloody nose and multiple cuts. I didn’t argue when he demanded I sleep, an icepack on my face. I didn’t even fuss when he placed my dreamcatcher over my head—I didn’t have the energy to deal with Jonathan anyway, not in my current condition. Seeing my injuries would have been more than enough to make my demon homicidal, and there had been enough death and gore for one night.

  At some point within my fitful slumber, I vaguely remembered Darius climbing into my bed and pulling me against him, but nothing more after that.

  I glanced around at the semi-lightened room; a strong breath of wind blew through the inch-wide crack of the boarded window, gently moving the curtains and casting a wisp of hair in my face. It tickled the cut at my cheek. Darius brushed the strand away with his fingers and I shivered from his touch.

  “Do you need another blanket? Are you cold?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Sweeping my hair from my neck, he traced his fingers down the length of my back. “I’m worried your nose may be broken. It will need to be tended to, along with your black eye.”

  Embarrassment bloomed crimson on my face. My fingers pushed against the swollen skin of my eye and a jolt of pain shot up into my head when I touched the bridge of my nose. With a heavy sigh I dropped my hand.

  “You have a nice voice,” I said in an effort to draw attention away from my injuries. I looked down at the puckered cut on my arm and grimaced.

  Darius hummed. “Your mother thought so, too.”

  “Oh?” I asked, shocked. Forgetting my self-consciousness, I studied his face and the flecks of gold in his honey-colored eyes.

  “So much that she made me promise to always sing to you.”

  Caught off-guard by his unashamed confession, I swallowed. “Oh?” I repeated, for lack of a better response.

  His lips twisted in one corner, pleased by my unease. “I sang to you the first night you arrived, but I don’t think you would remember that.”

  My face flushed. “I wonder why,” I groused, looking away.

  He huffed a laugh. “We all make mistakes…” But his laughter trailed away, and I wondered if his comment made him think of the doctor like it did me.

  He swallowed hard. “We all make mistakes, my Ava.”

  “What time is it?” I asked, not wanting to think about mistakes at the moment.

  “It’s almost noon. Are you hungry?”

  “Noon? I slept so long!”

  “Not really. It was past six in the morning before you fell asleep.”

  “And you? Did you sleep?” When he didn’t answer, I huffed my annoyance. “Of course you didn’t.”

  “I slept for almost an hour when you drugged me. How’s that?” He attempted a smile but it wilted beneath my scowl. “We are accustomed to nights of no sleep, Ava.”

  “We? You mean no one else slept?”

  He shrugged. “The residents did.” When I scowled at him again, he raised his hands in submission. “You are wounded and are not used to it as we are.”

  I pointed my finger an inch away from his nose. “I’ll manage. If the others don’t sleep, I don’t sleep.”

  A knock sounded before the door swung open. I shot to my feet as Elisa and Laith approached. Worry wore heavy upon their faces as they raked over my appearance.

  “How is Fiona?” I asked. “Cedric?”

  Laith shook his head. “They grieve, of course, but it is more the betrayal that stings. Ava, we had no idea—”

  “I know,” I interrupted his unnecessary apology.

  He nodded. “Ray is sending out the word that there is to be a council at two o’clock. Too much has happened to avoid it. We need to inform them of Charlotte, Zane, and Dr. Maynes. It will be a blow, but they deserve to know.”

  Elisa gently touched the swollen skin beneath my eye and grimaced when she took in the damage to my nose. “What happened last night puts into question everything we believed that happened the night Rachel died. We had always guessed Violet had been the traitor, but apparently, we were wrong.”

  “Just because she blamed Ava really doesn’t mean that much, does it?” Darius asked, still seated upon my bed, apparently unconcerned at how it might look. “Violet still could have been lying.”

  I wrapped my arms across my chest. “I don’t think so.”

  “How could you know that?” he asked.

  “I just… know. I believe Violet was loyal to my mother. She could have killed me the first night she came to me, but she didn’t. She warned me of the open door—of the traitor. She believed it was repaying the debt to my mother.”

  “What debt?” Laith asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I believe there is some kind of connection that they shared because—”

  “Because of the connection you have with your demon. This Jonathan.”

  Darius watched me carefully as I processed his accusation. An instinct to pretend otherwise, to lie, bubbled to the surface of my lips, but I suppressed it and answered with a nod.

  He climbed from the bed. Pacing the room, he rubbed his hand along his beard.

  I turned my attention to my Herald. “Elisa?”

  She looked away, moving to the artwork on the wall. She fingered the flower my mother had painted with the inscription a violet for Violet. I didn’t even know she was aware of it.

  “I won’t deny any longer that their connection was strong. That was made evident to me last night.” She dropped her hand. “But how did Violet end up in Charlotte?”

  “I don’t know. We need to find Charlotte. To find Violet. We need to speak to them.”

  “Call him.” The nearness of Darius’s voice caused me to jump. I looked into his expressionless eyes. “Call your demon.”

  �
��Jonathan?”

  “Did you have another?” he asked, one brow raised.

  “I’m—I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I stammered.

  “I think it’s fantastic.” Fiona glided into the room wearing the same nightgown she had on when her grandson died. Blood marred the delicate, lilac-colored fabric and stained the hands she must have refused to wash.

  Looking past the Healer, I focused on her mate, who trailed her with a somber expression on his face. “Cedric?”

  He gave a solemn nod. “It is important that we discover how deep our grandson’s treachery went, Ava. Surely you can understand this.”

  My head jerked back, my face heated.

  Treachery. Yes, I understood betrayal and the pain it caused, and they were right. My own father had committed treason when he made a deal with the Destroyer, stole me away, and abandoned humanity. Did I even know how deep his treachery went?

  “Call him, my niece.” Fiona placed a blood-dried hand on my shoulder. “Please.”

  I nodded. “Very well. Just… let me do this in a way he won’t feel cornered.”

  “You’re worried about him?” Darius crossed his arms over his chest, scanning my face. I hesitated but didn’t answer his probing question.

  I took several steps from the group. Closing my eyes, I connected with my demon. Jonathan.

  He opened, sensing my probe immediately. My Ava?

  I took a deep breath, my heart rate accelerated. The Three desire to meet with you. Will you come?

  There was no immediate response and after a moment I thought he would refuse, but then he answered. As you wish.

  By the time I turned around, Jonathan was already there, circled by my friends. They eyed him like a strange specimen on display at a circus.

  Thankfully he had appeared fully dressed, this time in a nice pair of jeans and a t-shirt that hugged in all the right places. He looked so normal, so human, that I almost forgot just how dangerous my demon was and how he alone had fought three of the five individuals in this room, along with my father, all at the same time. I gulped down the anxiety that rose suddenly to my throat.

  “Oh, dear. I’m having a serious case of déjà vu. Is this an ambush, my love?” Jonathan appeared calm, but his eyes quickly scanned the occupants of the room.

  “Love?” Darius’s fists clenched at his side.

  Jonathan smiled wickedly. “Ah. I’ve struck a nerve. That was fast. The last time I saw you, Ava didn’t seem too happy to have you around. What has changed in such a short amount of time? Is this the candidate for your Guardian, Ava dear?”

  “Don’t provoke him, Jonathan.” I pressed into the middle of the group, standing at his side. “But thank you for coming.”

  His eyes grew large as he scanned my face. His hands shot up. Forgetting he couldn’t touch me, he grazed his fingers through my body as he tried to thumb my black eye and nose.

  His expression hardened, his words slow. “Who. Attacked. You?” He trailed down to the wound on my arm. “Who cut you?” Without waiting for a response, he glared at my friends. “And who do I need to kill?”

  My heart stuttered to a halt at the intensity in his threat. I hadn’t yet seen my face in the mirror but I realized how bad it must have been to incite such a violent reaction as I had ever seen from him. “Jonathan, I’ll heal on my own—”

  “I will tear out the innards of whoever did this to my Ava,” Jonathan growled, wild and alarming.

  “Your Ava?” Darius stepped toward him, but I held him back, pressing my hand against his chest.

  Jonathan eyed the contact with revulsion. “Is this punishment for her association with me? Is she a captive here? Is this a threat?”

  My mouth gaped. “No, Jon—”

  Darius bristled; his voice shook in anger. “How dare you insinuate such a thing.”

  Jonathan glared at my temporary Guardian. “That was no insinuation.”

  Laith put up his hands. “Gentlemen, please remain calm. Jonathan, that is not the case at all.”

  “If that’s not the case, what happened and why hasn’t she been healed yet?” Jonathan glared at Cedric, his black eyes warning a sadistic death. “How dare you present the Defender in such a manner. She looks like shit.”

  I jerked back. “Hey.” But Jonathan ignored me.

  “That is my fault.” Fiona projected her voice above the din.

  Jonathan’s sharp eyes shot to her. A side of him I had rarely seen took over. Head angled, he considered her appearance, weighing her in his mind. Fiona continued despite her undergoing examination.

  “While I did not cause the injury, her lack of recovery is on my hands,” she said.

  Jonathan’s mouth twisted up at one corner. “It would appear as if the Healer has had a lot of blood on her hands recently. Does the lady not have a counterpart? I would assume this immortal to be your mate and fellow Healer, Cedric. Am I correct?”

  “You are,” Cedric confirmed, “and I will, of course, be more than happy to heal Ava the moment our business has concluded. I give you my word.”

  “You will heal her now, or there will be no business to conclude.”

  “Of course,” Cedric said.

  He guided me to the side and away from the group. He sat me on the bed and gently probed my face and arm.

  “I’m sorry, Cedric,” I mumbled beneath my breath so Jonathan could not hear.

  “No, the demon is right. We should have already taken care of you. Our minds were just… elsewhere.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Of course they were.”

  I closed my eyes, waiting for Cedric to finish his work. And even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel Jonathan’s presence and knew he had come to examine the procedure.

  “There,” Cedric announced, releasing my arm. “Ava, how do you feel?”

  I touched my face, sensing only residual discomfort. The small slice on my arm was gone as well.

  “Better, thank you.”

  Jonathan looked unimpressed. “Very anti-climactic,” he huffed. “And this is where the legend of witches began?”

  “I am the beginnings of the witch,” Fiona said, drawing his attention. Standing tall, her wild hair, dark brows, and blood-coated person accentuated her stake to that claim. “And that legend extends to more than just my methods of healing, Fallen One.”

  One side of Jonathan’s mouth twitched up. “Of course it does.”

  Fiona gestured for us to return to the group. Hands in his pockets, Jonathan sauntered towards the others. Rolling my eyes, I followed.

  “We’ve had several attacks on this compound in a short amount of time and we believe we have found at least three traitors to the immortal sanctuary, but there may be others.”

  Jonathan looked to me, a question in his eyes. I nodded to confirm.

  He smiled, but without humor. “Interesting. So what Annie said was true: the house of angels is tainted. But how deep?”

  “Do you have dealings with the Annihilator?” Darius asked.

  Jonathan avoided his pointed gaze, picking at his nails instead. “I despise the creature, but she is clever in getting followers.”

  Laith interjected. “We believe Violet is one of these followers—”

  “Violet… marches to the music of her own special band. Not much of a groupie.”

  “She took over the body of one of our own,” Laith said.

  Jonathan only shrugged. “If she took over the body, the body was willing. She got rid of her other shell, didn’t she? She would be looking for another.”

  “Violet is the one that attacked Ava last night,” Elisa said.

  Attention caught, Jonathan scowled at me, anger infused into his eyes.

  I fidgeted beneath his heavy gaze and attempted a smile. “You should have seen what she looked like.”

  “Then I will find her and I will kill her. But let me be clear—I do this for Ava, not The Three, and most certainly not for you,” he said, glaring at Darius.

 
; Elisa shook her head. “No, please. We need her. We believe she may know how and why Charlotte betrayed us. She may know other valuable information as well, but she escaped before we could question her.”

  “Please find her, but do not hurt her,” I said. “Charlotte may still be inside.”

  Jonathan reached out a hand to cup my face. “Very well. I will bring her to you.”

  “You will not need to look very hard.” The room fell silent as Violet in the form of Charlotte slipped inside, clicking the door closed behind. She smiled at me. “I am here, little Ava.”

  22

  A violet for Violet

  Violet pressed her back against the door, breathing heavily. Blood coated a bandage wrapped around her middle where the doctor had shot her.

  Laith’s hands flew out to the side, as if blocking the others from rushing the demon, but no one moved besides Jonathan, who lowered into a crouch beside me.

  “You’re not a physical entity, remember?” I said beneath my breath.

  He straightened immediately. Removing himself from the group, he prowled the room, assessing the situation.

  “How did you get in here?” Laith asked. Elisa moved to her husband’s side and guided his hands down.

  Violet pushed a strand of silver-blonde hair away from her forehead. “Unbeknownst to you and your mate, this was my home for years. This was my Rachel’s and my room. You think I wouldn’t know how to find my way around without getting caught?”

  Elisa bristled. “Your room?”

  “I know every inch of your compound, and… Oh—” She spied Jonathan and stood a little straighter, but grimaced with the effort. “Jonathan.” She acknowledged him with a nod.

  He paused. “Violet. You’re more clear-minded than I remember.”

  Her fingers tapped Charlotte’s skull. “It’s amazing what a fresh mind can do to help that, but I’m my same self, I assure you.” She flashed him a smile that warned.