03 Reckoning - Guardian

by Laury Falter

  When we met in the courtyard well after sunset, I could see that he’d been unsuccessful in calming himself. Eran and Campion detected it too and strolled away, giving us a little privacy.

  “Gershom,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “You’re leading us there. You’re not coming inside.” He didn’t seem to grasp my meaning so I clarified, “The fighting will be inside and you’ll be outside.”

  Gershom gave two quick nods, agitated head shakes really, and I second guessed whether he should come along at all.

  “Outside,” he muttered. “I’ll be outside.”

  His utterance gave me some measure of calm. “Yes, Gershom. You’ll be fine outside. You’ll see.”

  Eran, who’d been speaking to the portion of his army which had taken up nightly lookout positions, returned to us with Campion at his side.

  “So…how are we doing this?” Eran asked, repositioning his sword sheath to unobstructed him from flight.

  “We’ll follow Gershom until he finds one. He’ll get our attention, tell us the exact location of the Fallen One, and then he’ll remain safely in the sky while we attack.”

  Eran nodded with his full attention back on us. “I still believe we should postpone until the Alterums are ready to provide support. Simply putting it on record.”

  “I’m not waiting,” I replied flatly.

  He sighed quietly. “Then I suppose we’ll do the best we can,” he stated, reluctant and slightly disgruntled. “Ready?”

  I turned to Gershom. “Ready?”

  He only nodded, again, two quick quivers.

  “Most of them have likely heard of the attack here and will be more diligent,” Eran stated in warning, his wings spreading out behind him, preparing for flight.

  “Yes, I considered that,” I replied plainly.

  Gershom didn’t say a word, choosing to stare back, tensely.

  The four of us rose through the air then, Eran, Campion, and me falling back to allow Gershom the lead. We then trailed Gershom towards London’s gleaming cityscape. Once there, I split my attention between Gershom and the city below. Even from above, I could recognize streets I’d walked back in the 1300s and it was especially poignant to fly over the street where Eran had rescued me from an Elsic and immediately after declared himself as my guardian.

  Only one element of our relationship had changed since then. I still declined the need for a guardian, and always would; the distinct difference was that while he had always been the one to fight our enemies, it was now me who instigated it. He wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about this evolution in me but I refuse to give him, anyone really, a say in it.

  This was my destiny. I would live it as I wanted.

  A swell of empowerment washed over me just when Gershom began to slow to a hover. The rest of us slowed to linger beside him, though he didn’t acknowledge us. He was focused on a warehouse directly below, one on the edge of the river.

  A thick mist rolling through the network of streets below nearly engulfed the building and made the streetlights encircling it glow wide, extending to the surrounding structures. The tops of cars protruded from the haze and lined along the edge of one street told us that the building was not vacant.

  “Everything all right, Gershom?” asked Eran, confident but alert.

  “There,” he said, pointing to the same building Eran and I had figured he’d been evaluating. “Second floor, northwest corner. She’s not alone.”

  “More Fallen Ones?”

  Gershom shook his head tenuously. “Humans…around thirty of them.”

  “Humans?” I said more to myself. They didn’t spend time with humans unless it allowed for an opportunity to take advantage of them.

  “We’ll try to remove them safely,” said Eran. “Magdalene, please stay within my sight.”

  I glanced at him under my lashes.

  “Please?” he implored.

  “I’ll try to remember that,” I conceded.

  “Good enough,” he said. “Now let’s go see what this one’s up to. Circle a few times for surveillance first.”

  I barely caught the last part of his instructions, the wind already picking up and obscuring his voice as I dropped towards the building.

  He caught up to me easily and gave me an annoyed look. I ignored it because we’d just reached a set of windows exposing the second floor.

  Campion remained above, acting as sentry from the roof, so it would be just me and Eran executing the Fallen One.

  I liked those odds.

  The loft inside was spacious, filled with expensive furniture, oversized artwork, and a crowd of what appeared to be fashionable elite. Music thumped through the windows where they held either tumblers or flutes in their hands while waiters dressed in black suits weaved handheld platters through what appeared to be a thriving party.

  One woman in particular stood out from the rest. Not because of her white hair wound in a foot-tall beehive or the flowing, low cut gown she wore.

  She caught my attention because the moment she entered the room and started down the stairs, the hair at the back of my neck began to rise. At nearly the same time, her radar went off too, stopping her midway down the steps. Her expression, previously relaxed, darkened; her eyes alone taking on a rage that would have chilled her guests had they been watching her. They swept the throng below, unable to pick up any sign of me and then, very slowly, she lifted them to the windows.

  One side of my mouth tilted up in a coy smile and I knew she’d seen me, immediately spinning around and marching up the stairs, her stride hurried and clumsy now.

  As she went up, I dropped down, feeling the hard pavement meet my feet in a rush. Eran landed at the same time as me and was already at the wide metal door.

  Before pulling it open, he asked quickly, “Do you feel any more?”

  Knowing he was asking if my radar had increased, a warning of the presence of more than one Fallen One, I shook my head. “She’s alone.”

  A glimmer came to his eyes and knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing: This one is going to be easy.

  It turned out, we were very wrong.

  Inside, the first floor was completely vacant with a single set of metal stairs lined the wall directly to our right. Beyond them was a cavernous and entirely vacant room. The music and voices drifting down the staircase, the only signs of life, might have seemed welcoming in this environment. But, that would be true only if we’d come for another reason, one that didn’t include killing their host.

  By the time we reached the top step, our appendages were already back in place so when entered the crowd in search of the Fallen One, I was surprised to find someone place a hand on my back…directly where my wings extended.

  It was cold, like that of a Fallen One.

  “Now this ensemble…” I heard a feminine voice stating in an English accent as I spun around. Before me was a skeletal man wearing a skin-tight, polka dotted one-piece. He ignored my abrupt maneuver to focus on my one-piece suit.

  His eyes slimmed as he evaluated it, a finger lightly touching the side of his lips. “The leather’s nice…and the slits in the back…they do add something. But these weapons…” He frowned and clucked his tongue, deep in thought. “It’s a bit too…antagonistic. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” agreed a slender blonde next to him. “Antagonistic…Yes…”

  She too was evaluating me now.

  “Do they have this in my size?” asked the man, sincere curiosity driving him. “And possibly in red?”

  I took a glimpse at Eran, who was stifling a laugh by keeping his eyes on the stairs we were about to ascend.

  Because I hadn’t answered yet, the man asked, solemnly, “It’s a one-of-a-kind, isn’t it? I knew it.” He shook his head, his lips pinched in disappointment.

  “Tell us…” said the woman, leaning in as if she were going to ask something gravely important. “Who’s the designer?”

  Leaning fo
rward, I looked them both in the eyes before whispering, “Me.”

  In unison, they sprang back, their jaws falling, drawing in a stunned gasp. Then, slowly smiles spread across their faces.

  “Well done,” said the man. “Well done.”

  I tipped my head cordially at them and then moved on through the crowd. Eran had spotted the woman through an open door at the top of the stairs.

  When we reached that room, she was just ending a phone conversation. As the door opened, she turned expectantly to face us, wearing a devious smile now.

  Something was wrong. I couldn’t place it but I felt it. This Fallen One had gone from self-assured to nervously angry to mischievously pleased.

  She was up to something.

  “Maggie…Eran…Welcome,” she said, unhurriedly. “I wasn’t expecting you but there is room for more at my party.”

  Something in the way she said this made me wonder exactly why she was holding this party at all. There was an ulterior motive I couldn’t quite place yet.

  By this point, Eran had closed the door behind us and all three of our wings were out. Then, as Eran and I unsheathed our swords, she slid her hand beneath her desk and withdrew a small handgun. We were all now equally defensive and waiting to see where it would lead.

  Only a few seconds passed when, seeing no reason to hesitate longer, I stepped forward.

  She quickly looked out the window and then back to us, something that both Eran and I noticed.

  “Expecting more company?” Eran inquired.

  “Truthfully…yes. The fact your pathetic little fortress still stands was an alert that you survived and would continue to come after us…and, as a matter of recourse, we’ve agreed to call in support whenever either of you were spotted. Seeing as how my friends were going to arrive later anyways…”

  “Arrive later?” I muttered.

  She seemed appalled. “Of course. You don’t think I’d let those dirty, wretched humans in my home without a good reason…” She scoffed and then grew excited. “Truth be told, I’m overjoyed you’re here. My small gathering will be the talk of the century. Everyone will know you were killed and that it was done at my party. I will be revered…” She drew in a deep breath in anticipation. “And once my friends and I take care of you, we’ll celebrate using them.” She waved her hand towards the lower level, her eyes eager and expectant.

  I vaguely noticed her motions, my concentration centering on her last words instead. They made a shiver run down my spine, which quickly transformed to annoyance. “I have no hope for your kind any longer. You have no compassion.”

  “For them?” She laughed cynically. “No.”

  “And that will be your downfall.”

  I started across the room again with Eran moving forward directly next to me.

  He spoke for the first time, low and contemptuous. “I have a feeling your friends will be arriving a little later than you’d like…You are alone in this now. Prepare for eternal death.”

  She seemed to agree with Eran, her finger squeezing the trigger of the gun she held a second later.

  The shot cracked through the room and was met by screams from downstairs. Footsteps rushing down the metal stairs to the first floor and the squeaking of the metal front door opening, told us that her guests were fleeing. Ignoring them, I searched for where the bullet had landed.

  In my heightened state, I’d heard it whiz passed my ear, break through the plaster of the wall behind us, and lodge in the wooden support beam.

  Eran was inspecting me so I shrugged to show I felt no pain and simultaneously we stepped forward.

  The woman’s aim hadn’t been precise for a reason. She was using it as a distraction, already withdrawing another weapon. This one was a thick steel chain. At the end of it, an array of knives protruded from a center point so that no matter where it hit, the victim would be severely injured.

  “Fernando Vega sent this to me,” she explained reflecting back to that time. “Always good with the tools, Fernando was…”

  “Not anymore,” I stated.

  She didn’t seem to appreciate my humor, taking the chain in her other hand, lifting it, and circling it above her head as if it were a lasso.

  I wondered for a moment just how good she could be with the device when Eran stepped in front of me. He’d already deemed her worthy of it.

  As she released the chain and the blades sliced through the air towards us, Eran shoved me back and fell to the ground.

  It soared over our heads, cutting a swath through the door behind us, sending shards of wood across the room.

  Eran was now on his feet, giving her no time to recoil the chain. As he lunged for her, she brought the chain forward, yanking it so that the knives would catch Eran from behind.

  I saw this coming, stepping up and seizing it before it reached Eran. Wrenching it from her hands, the chain slid across the floor to land limp, harmless in the corner of the room.

  The woman was defenseless now.

  Eran wasted no time in incapacitating her. He’d finished his task by the time I could cross the room. One arm was around her neck, the other restraining her. As her breathing became progressively more laborious, she struggled to remove Eran’s sword from her chest, her hand not quite able to reach it.

  Then, just as quickly as her eyes shut, the life ebbing from her, her lids opened again and life returned. Eran’s sword slowly, gradually ejected from her torso and fell to the floor with a dull clang.

  She tossed her head, sweeping the hair from her face as if she were relaxing on the beach and not moments from death.

  Then she smirked and explained her confidence. “Impaling isn’t effective on me.”

  Anyone who has fallen comes to earth with their own set of defenses, their own paranormal powers which can protect them from danger. This woman’s friends were coming, our time was running out, we needed to figure her vulnerability quickly.

  I glanced back at Eran. “Drowning? Suffocation? Electrocution?”

  While I was offering these as suggestions to Eran, I was also watching her reactions, stopping only when she flinched.

  “All right…Let’s see if this will be,” I said, crossing the room to where her knifed weapon had exposed the electrical components in the wall.

  Sweeping my legs out from beneath my body and using my appendages to hover above the ground, I took the exposed wires and returned to her.

  My eyes met Eran’s and I knew he understood my intentions when his appendages quietly stretched and pumped once, lifting his feet inches from the ground.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her.

  “Paula,” she sneered. “May my name haunt you.”

  “Paula, there is something you need to know with absolute lucidity. It is your choices that have brought you to this point. You are here because of your actions. You will be leaving because of your actions. I am simply the messenger.”

  With that I impaled the electrical cords through her torso.

  Eran smoothly drifted around her as the body he once held fell to the ground gyrated until the nerves succumbed to the electrical currents.

  The lights blinked, lingered on briefly, and then flicked off permanently.

  In the still darkness, I asked Eran, “Do you hear that?”

  “Wings…” he whispered. “Are you ready?”

  Once I nodded, he took Paula’s chain and threw it through the oversized window behind her desk, shattering it. We slipped through the shards and into the cool night air, lifting ourselves to the flat roof above.

  Campion was already facing their direction, his stance unyielding and his expression firm. Without taking his eyes from the sky, he commented, “Looks like our party is just beginning…”

  There we waited, swords drawn, facing the approaching onslaught.

  The thumping of wings cutting the air steadily grew louder until we saw the bodies appearing in the distance. They approached in a single line, forty of them, and they flew with determination.<
br />
  Watching them, I realized this hunt no longer appeared so easy.

  As they drew closer, I scanned their faces for signs of weakness, fear, trepidation. None of these were evident, their entire beings projecting only one feeling…rage.

  The hair at the back of my neck snapped wildly, trying to gain my interest, warning me.

  “Stay calm, Magdalene,” Eran warned.

  “I’m not anxious…” I said. “I’m eager.”

  He sighed in frustration, preferring me to engage some type of self-preservation.

  That was impossible. Adrenaline pumped through me, faster and faster, until the line of Fallen Ones landed in unison on the rooftop. Then it dissipated, my muscles absorbing the rush, containing it for the fight to come.

  That was when I heard the chuckle.

  “’Ello, Messenga’,” said a cordial voice in a thick Australian accent, one that teased my memory.

  A man stepped closer, in front of the group, dressed in a black suit, his hair slicked back, diamond cufflinks glinting in the dim light.

  “Sharar…” I mumbled, surprised, despite the situation.

  Eran and Campion took a quick look at me, gauging my comfort level with this particular Fallen One.

  “’S been a while,” he stated with mock sadness. “No more deliverin’ messages in Jackson’s Squa’?”

  “Those have been postponed in the interest of exterminating you.”

  The group chuckled boldly, which I disregarded. “It looks like we’ve disturbed your plans for the night.” I motioned towards his suit.

  He lifted his shoulders in a deep laugh and then explained to his cohorts, “This one’s observant, blokes. Best keep yer head ‘bout ya.”

  My lips lifted in a half-smile.

  “Ay, took me away from me party,” Sharar confirmed. “Notta wurry. Happy to be the one ta take down the last messenga’.”

  My smile widened considerably then. “Your confidence is inflamed, Sharar.”

  “We’ll see ‘bout that.” This statement was delivered with a considerably darker tone, something the rest of us picked up on.