Demon Guard

by Samantha Britt

  I hope the young man will disagree and start an argument. I need them distracted if I have any hope of escaping the man’s vicelike grip.

  To my disappointment, stranger number two doesn’t object. I’m dragged off the streets of Chicago, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Two

  We make it to their safehouse without incident. No monsters jump out at us, despite the fact the older stranger mumbles he can sense them near. His words spike my fear, and I find myself more willing to stay close to the strangers. At least for now.

  They drag me to an upscale apartment building located just off East Randolph Street, facing Millennium Park. I’d hoped being in a more populated area would permit at least one pedestrian to walk by us. The moment I saw anyone, I’d planned to shout for help. But no one had crossed our path. That wasn’t normal. It’s the middle of the night, but Chicago is a vibrant city. We should’ve seen at least one person stumbling home after a night of excessive drinking. I would have settled for seeing a sleeping homeless man. But it was like we walked in a ghost town.

  All hopes of being seen and saved died when we reached the fancy apartment building and the metal doors clicked shut behind me. We’d used the servers’ entrance and elevator to reach the top floor. The penthouse is beautiful. Brand new furniture and appliances fill the space. Priceless art adorns the walls, and large windows give the apartments a perfect view of the city and Lake Michigan. I’d only ever seen a place so nice in magazines. The display of wealth, literally, took my breath away.

  But my admiration is short lived. Gawking at the expensive décor, I miss it when the younger stranger informs his friend he will put me somewhere safe. Before I put two and two together, I’m pulled down a hallway, my feet dragging against the plush carpet.

  “No! Let me go!” I kick and scream, cursing my internal warning system for not cautioning me about this abduction. I don’t care if they saved me from a monster, I should’ve fought these men with all my might. I continue to thrash with renewed purpose, but there’s no escaping the young man’s firm grip. I’m shoved in a bare room which has no place in the opulent, high-end penthouse.

  An hour passes. And no one comes to check on me.

  “Let me out!” I throw my body against the thick, iron door for the tenth time. All I accomplish is aggravating my bruised shoulder. There is no getting out of the windowless bedroom the strangers have locked me in. Not until they want to let me out.

  Resigned to the fact I won’t be able to escape, I abandon my pointless attempts to break down the door and move to the twin-size bed. It’s higher than the bed I slept in at my house, standing almost to my shoulder. I have to use my arms to help pull myself onto the bed as I jump up.

  With a sigh, I flop backward and stare at the ceiling. My head spins with the evening’s events.

  Did I really come face to face with a demon and live to tell the tale?

  I wasn’t sure I really believed in demons, but I know I’m not crazy. I saw the monster with my own eyes. Whatever I’d faced, it definitely wasn’t human.

  I lift my arm and gaze at my birthmark. What did the older stranger mean when he said I’m one of them?

  My arm falls and bounces against the mattress. I think about Noah and Nora. I should’ve been back with dinner a long time ago. They will be worried sick. I pray they don’t do anything stupid like try and look for me. It isn’t safe to be out at night. My current predicament speaks to the truth of that fact.

  There’s no window to let me know what time it is, but I must fall asleep at some point. My body feels heavy with the remnants of interrupted sleep when I hear the sound of the iron door creaking open.

  I jolt into a sitting position just as stranger number two enters, closing the door behind him.

  “You managed to sleep. That’s good. I remember the first time I saw a demon in person. I couldn’t get a full night sleep for weeks.” It’s the younger stranger. He walks in carrying a plastic tray. On it, I see a sandwich, bag of chips, and a bottle of water. No utensils. I’m weaponless.

  He kicks the iron door closed and walks towards me, smiling in a non-threatening way. At least, that’s the kind of look he’s going for. But I’m not falling for it.

  I shuffle back until I hit the wall at the top of the bed. The stranger stops. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I say nothing.

  He places the tray on the end of the bed, then steps back. “We scouted the area for demons, but we didn’t find any. Looks like we were wrong about them being sent to find you.”

  I wrap my arms around my legs and pull them tight against me. A shiver wracks my body as I think of the scaly monster and what would’ve happened to me if he’d gotten ahold of me.

  “My name is Logan.” The stranger moves backwards and sits down on the lone chair in the room. He leans back so the front legs are off the ground, balancing himself against the wall behind him.

  My position on the bed puts me higher than him, and the advantageous position makes me feel a little better.

  “What’s your name?”

  I debate not telling him. If I want to get out of here, I might need to cooperate. Still, I’m not ready to trust him. “What am I doing here, Logan?”

  His smile is patient. His unlined face confirms his youth. “You’re at a Shadowguard safehouse. It’s where we stay when we are on a mission. You should eat something,” he motions to the tray. “I promise to answer your questions, but only if you eat.”

  Fair enough. I’m starving anyway.

  Careful to keep my eyes on him, I inch forward until my fingertips catch on the edge of the tray. I slide it towards me and open the bag of chips. I place one in my mouth, and the salty crunch tastes like heaven. I force myself not to dump the entire bag in my mouth. I need to take it slow. Gorging myself on an empty stomach will only make me sick. I know. I’ve done it before.

  I chew and swallow another four chips before I ask, “What type of missions?” I uncap the bottle of water and bring it to my lips.

  “To find and kill demons.”

  I choke on the sip of water. “You kill all of them?” My fear spikes as I consider I am sitting alone in a room with a murderer.

  “Only the bad ones,” Logan replies. “Which most of them are.”

  I shake my head. I would think he’s crazy if I hadn’t seen the beast with my own eyes. “So… the demon didn’t want me? I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?” If I wasn’t the monster’s reason for being in the city, would I be set free?

  “I would say you were in the right place at the right time,” Logan contradicts. “Otherwise, you could have lived your whole life ignorant of what you are.”

  I take a bite of the peanut butter sandwich to buy myself some time. “And what am I?”

  “A Guardian.”

  I blink. I don’t know what he’s talking about. “What’s a guardian?”

  Logan lets the chair fall back onto four legs. He leans forward and rests his forearms on top of his knees. “You will learn all about it soon enough. Master Patrick is speaking with the ministers about where you should go.”

  “Go?” I jump down from the bed. Logan remains where he is, but his shoulders tense. He’s ready to grab me if I try to do anything stupid. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  His voice is calm, like he’s trying to soothe a wounded animal. “Guardians are rare, and we take care of our own. Now that you’ve been found, we can’t let you go back to living on the streets.”

  “How do you know I’ve been—”

  “It’s obvious. Your clothes are filthy, and you look about one day away from dying of starvation.”

  I hate how my face heats with embarrassment. I haven’t looked in a mirror in a while, mostly because I know I’m a mess, but there’s really nothing I can do about it.

  Logan continues, “No Guardian parent would’ve abandoned you, so we know you’re alone, but the ministers will arrange for your protection. You will go to school,
then an academy, and you will have a future in our society. So, like I said, you were in the right place at the right time.”

  But I’m not alone. I have the twins. Noah and Nora are counting on me. I can’t disappear. They won’t make it without me. They’ll starve. Or worse, the police will find them and take them back to their crappy parents. I can’t let that happen.

  “I can’t go anywhere,” I insist. Then, I take a chance and tell him the truth. “I have two people depending on me. They won’t make it without me.”

  Logan’s gaze softens. “Other kids?”

  I bite my cheek, but nod. “Yes.”

  “Siblings?”

  I jerk my head. “No. Just… friends.”

  A flicker of disappointment crosses his eyes. “Tell me where they are, and I will make sure they are safe.”

  I shake my head vigorously. “No. The cops will send them back to their mom and dad. They’re abusive and neglectful. They’re better off without them.”

  Logan assesses me. “You cannot go back to them.”

  I want to cry. The twins are going to suffer, all because I was stupid and got caught by strangers. “Please,” my voice breaks, and the tears threaten to fall. “They need me.”

  “What they need is a stable home and to get off the streets,” Logan states. “You’re a child. You cannot give them that. But I can.”

  Traitorous hope sparks in my chest, followed by mistrust. “You’re not much older than me,” I challenge. “How are you going to help them?”

  Logan smiles again. This time, I can’t ignore how handsome is. It makes me even more self-conscious of my ragged state. “I’m eighteen. So, I’m an adult, thank you very much,” he says with humor. “But I wasn’t talking about me. My father knows people. If I ask, he can make sure your friends are taken care of, and that they aren’t returned to their neglectful parents.”

  Is he serious?

  I don’t let myself believe him.

  “Isn’t it illegal for someone to keep kids away from their biological parents?” Logan looks pretty strait-laced with his short hair-cut and sharp black clothing. There isn’t a wrinkle to be seen.

  “You’ll soon find out that Guardians have some leeway when it comes to abiding the law.” Logan draws near, holding his hands out in a nonthreatening way. I force my feet to remain where they are. I won’t retreat. I won’t show fear.

  Logan stops two feet away. His eyes catch mine. They shine with honesty and determination. “I promise, on my honor, that your friends will be safe from their parents. You cannot go back to help them yourself, but you can allow us to help them for you.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek. What can I do? Logan is right. I’m at the mercy of this strange Guardian organization, and if I don’t at least try and arrange for Noah and Nora to be helped, I might not have another chance.

  I close my eyes, pressing out two more tears, as I make my decision. “You swear?” I look up and meet Logan’s gaze. “You swear they will be safe?”

  He reaches out and brushes away my tear tenderly, like a big brother consoling a sister. But my reaction is not at all sisterly. Gosh, he is really handsome.

  “I swear,” Logan vows. “Tell me where they are, and I will go call my father right now to get them help.”

  I give him the address of the warehouse, and the deed is done. I’ve done what I can for my friends. Now, I need to worry about myself. I decide I won’t try to escape. Not yet. I want to learn more about this guardian society. More importantly, I want to know if they can tell me anything about my past. Mom told me so little about our family, she barely even mentioned my dad. I miss her terribly. Maybe these guardians can tell me more about her.

  “Thank you for trusting me,” Logan smiles again, and my stupid teenage heart flutters. “I’m going to speak with Master Patrick. I’ll be back. Be sure to eat.”

  I can only nod.

  Then, Logan walks out the door, and I realize I never did get around to telling him my name.

  Three

  Present Day

  Bookcases filled with leather bound volumes of varying shades of green, blue, and brown line the wall to my right. I sit in front of a wide mahogany desk, trying not to slide down the sleek, uncomfortable chair. The ceiling fan above my head spins in a rocking rhythm, drawing my attention every few seconds.

  “Aspen, please stop biting your nails. It isn’t ladylike.”

  I release the hangnail from between my teeth, and it takes all my self-control not to roll my eyes. Seriously, who even says that sort of thing anymore?

  I kick out my legs and cross my ankles, leveraging my weight against the floor with my heels. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for my meeting with the headmistress to begin, and I’m getting antsy.

  Beside me, Vivian Van der Klay, my foster mother, nervously twirls the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist. The sun streams through the window and glints against the stunning jewels, casting golden specks onto her designer pantsuit. If I’m mildly nervous, then she is close to a full-on nervous breakdown. The illustrious St. Michael’s Guardian Academy only accepts forty new students a year, and the Van der Klays have never had a family member not get in to the coveted school. It doesn’t matter that I’m not related to them by blood. In their minds, I am a member of their family. Albeit, a reluctant one. They are adamant I will be accepted to the academy, and they’ve thrown tens of thousands of dollars at the school to help secure my spot. Under the guise of a donation, of course.

  But no amount of money can get me out of an admissions interview. So, I wait for the headmistress in her stuffy office. Honestly, I don’t give a damn what Guardian Academy I get in to. As long as it means I will eventually become a Guardian, I’ll call it a win.

  The thick oak door finally swings open and a statuesque older woman enters the office. I quickly uncross my legs and sit up straight.

  The woman wears a tight gray pencil skirt with a violet short-sleeved blouse. Her black heels clink against the wood floors before they sink into the carpet in the center of the office. Her nose is buried in a folder, and she doesn’t look up until she sits in the high-backed chair, placing the file on the desk. I guess she’s the headmistress seeing as she acts like she owns the place.

  The woman laces her fingers together and leans forward, resting her elbows on the desk. Brown eyes lock with mine. “Aspen Van der Klay, I presume.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply, remembering the manners my late mom had instilled in me. The Van der Klays legally changed my last name shortly after I came under their care. My name used to be Jones, but Jones wasn’t one of the well-known Guardian family names. So, they’d changed it. Without my permission.

  At first, the change made me livid. It’d felt like the ultimate betrayal of my deceased mother, and I mourned the loss of that connection with her. But then I’d realized Jones was just a name. It didn’t change my link to my mom. I could go by Jones later in life if I wanted to, and I planned on it. The Van der Klays would have no say once I no longer lived under their roof.

  The headmistress’s gaze shifts to Vivian. She dips her chin respectfully, “Mrs. Van Der Klay.”

  “Kirsten. It’s good to see you again.”

  “How is Charles?” The headmistress asks about my foster father.

  “Charles is well. Busy with work, as usual. He’s sorry he couldn’t be here to support Aspen during her interview.” Vivian reaches over and squeezes my arm. Years of practice keep me from flinching.

  Vivian isn’t a bad woman. She’s kind and thoughtful, but she’s not my mom. I used to avoid her touch at all costs. Until I saw her crying in the kitchen after I avoided her congratulatory hug for acing a science test in the eighth grade.

  Guilt had made me suck it up and accept all future affectionate gestures. Vivian Van Der Klay has spent the last four years trying her best to make me feel like a legitimate member of her family, and I’m not exactly the easiest child to get along with. The least I can do is let the
woman hug me from time to time.

  The headmistress’s attention returns to me. “I’m Headmistress Meyer, and I’m in charge of St. Michael’s. I will be conducting your admissions interview. Are you ready to begin?”

  I gulp. “Yes.”

  Her slicked back hair is tucked into a tight bun, pulling her face. She’s intimidating. It will take all of my effort not to stutter. I have a reputation to uphold. I don’t get nervous. I’m badass and emotionless. I’ve got this.

  Headmistress Meyer pulls her arms back and assesses the file on the desk. “You are a ward of the Guardian Council. The Van der Klays are your assigned caretakers.”

  She doesn’t phrase it as a question. Still, I say, “Yes.”

  “And your existence wasn’t discovered until you were twelve. Is that accurate?”

  “Thirteen,” I correct automatically. Master Patrick and Logan had found me less than a week after my birthday.

  She glances back at the file and nods her head, acknowledging the mistake. “How did you remain hidden for so long?” The headmistress peers up at me with assessing dark eyes. I squirm.

  This is the part of my story I don’t like to share. Since mom died, I’ve learned all about the secret Guardian society that I was born into, but had never been a part of.

  Demons are real. Vampires, werewolves, succubi, and dark mages… they’re all real. There is a powerful group of humans whose purpose on this earth is to keep those dark creatures in check. They call themselves Guardians. Their mission? To protect mankind from all types of supernatural evil.

  But not just anyone can be a Guardian. Superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to wield light magic are just a few of the necessary skills a person needs if they have any hope of fighting demons without immediately being torn apart.

  As you might imagine, these skills are not bestowed upon every human who enters the world. No, only a small number of the population inherits these gifts, and they are all descendants of one man who lived over two thousand years ago.