Guardian's Faith

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  People moved aside as he approached and as the front ranks broke before him; the Liege Lord saw what he had missed before. Faith was Adam's partner.

  After a series of complicated steps, Adam's hands spanned her tiny waist and once again he tossed her in the air, this time straight up. He grabbed her hands as she came down only to swing her, feet first, through his open legs. His leg arced over her prone body as he turned and her body spun in his grip so that she faced him when he pulled her to her feet.

  There was another series of complicated steps and maneuvers that showed a great deal of leg and had her much-too-low-cut blouse sliding from one shoulder. Lucien felt his jaw tighten at the display and stepped forward to put a stop to it.

  Fortunately, the music ended before the acrobatics could reveal more of her and by the time the Liege Lord grabbed her hand, Faith was offering a small curtsy in a mutual thank you to Adam's bow.

  "You came!" was her response to his pulling her past the edge of the crowd.

  Her curls were tousled from her exertions and her eyes were glowing with pleasure. Her face was flushed, the rosy hue travelling down her neck and over her chest to tint the rounded tops of two delightful little breasts that heaved under the gathering of the neck of her blouse.

  "Did you see us?" she asked excitedly. "It's called jitterbugging. Adam knows how and he said because I was so small and light it would be easy for me to learn. I stumbled at first, but Adam is such a good dancer I caught on pretty quickly. It was so much fun! You'll have to try it sometime."

  Lucien was going to tell her that such behavior was unseemly in a young lady, but he was distracted by the soft white shoulder exposed by the slipping neckline and by the fact that she wore no undergarments beneath the light and clinging material. He closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts and erase the vision of where those images led.

  "Lucien, are you all right?" he heard in his mind. "What's wrong? Lucien, you're hurting my hand."

  Startled, he released her and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'm fine. I didn't recognize you at first. You weren't wearing that when you left." It sounded like an accusation.

  "I know. Isn't it beautiful?"

  Faith raised her hands above her head and twirled in a circle, sending the white skirt sailing out around her and giving him another glimpse of her shapely legs and a clear picture of where those legs ended.

  "You certainly are," he breathed, though that wasn't what he intended to say. He had a sudden urge to tell her to go change into the clothes she came in.

  Faith's hand went to her cheek and the scars that cut across it. "It's not me. It's the clothes."

  It was more than the clothes and he damn well knew it. When she was dressed in her baggy, everyday work clothes, it was easy to pretend she was a blossoming girl child. The creature standing before him was no developing girl. She was a woman, a tiny one to be sure, but with all the attributes that made a woman desirable. Against the rosiness of her cheeks, even the smattering of freckles called out to him, begging to be kissed.

  He wasn't prepared for this. He'd thought he'd have time to develop a plan of courtship. He'd never wooed a woman before and had no idea how one went about it. While other young men were out at parties and dances practicing their charms and honing their skills, he'd been thrust into the position of Liege Lord with the additional burden of sorting through the pieces of his shattered life. Later, when he could have turned to the pleasures of the company of women, he'd already vowed to forsake all of that. This was all happening too quickly.

  "You've changed," he said and again it sounded like an accusation.

  "I have," she signed and laughed with the pleasure those changes had wrought. "Do you know that except for that first night when Álvaro was so angry and grabbed my arm, I haven't had a single panic attack? Not one. I'll bet I've had twenty men touch me tonight and I've enjoyed every minute of it."

  Lucien's face hardened and her eyes suddenly went wide. "For dancing I mean, um, not for anything else."

  She blushed and lowered her eyes and all Lucien could think of were the hundred and one things he'd like to whisper in her ear to make her blush again. Those words were not what he needed, though. Those words were of lust, not love.

  He was standing there feeling like a jealous schoolboy with his tongue tied to the roof of his mouth. He needed time to think, to plan, and to get himself under control.

  "Okay, there were a couple of times… Lucien? Are you listening to me?"

  Lucien took Faith's hand in his and clicked his heels as he formally bowed over it and touched his lips to the back. It was the one gesture he remembered from when he was young.

  "My horse should be rested and calm," he told her, "I must return to my rounds."

  Faith watched Lucien walk away and wondered why he was acting so strangely. Wistfully, she rubbed the spot on the back of her hand where he'd touched it with his lips. Like their touch to her forehead, the heat of his lips had filled her with a sense of longing she'd never felt before.

  She shook her head regretfully and turned back to the table where her new friends were waiting, determined to enjoy the music and good food. It was good to feel alive again and any regrets she might have could be worried about tomorrow.

  Chapter 17

  There was one table across the room from them that was not enjoying the music or the food although they'd enjoyed plenty of the good local beer. They came in late and while a trio of them bellied up to the bar, three others hovered menacingly around a table that was occupied by four young men until the young men were either annoyed or intimidated enough to leave. Six men, sometimes joined by a few more, glared at Faith and her companions in between their snarling conversation.

  "Oh, oh. Here comes trouble," Adam said as one of them came staggering toward them. "Let me take him outside."

  Faith stopped him with a hand on his arm and glanced over at Álvaro whose attention was directed at Briza's ample hips undulating in time to the music and clearly teasing the poor man with her 'treasures'.

  "Let him say what he has to say. What can he do with all these people around?"

  "Why do you people let her near your children?" the man said loudly, "You know what she is." He spit in her face and called her bruja in the same tone others might use to say whore.

  Those closest to them turned in shock, but whether it was the man's actions or the sound of his head slamming into the table as Adam drove him down by the neck, Faith wasn't sure. Álvaro was there in an instant and she felt more that saw Lalo streak across the room from where'd he'd been dancing with a pretty young woman.

  "Don't," she signed to Álvaro who looked like he meant to take out all his anger and resentment on the man, to Adam whose hand was tightening like a noose around the man's neck, and to Lalo whose face had become hard as the Battle Rage arose in him.

  Faith reached for the man's hand flattened against the tabletop. He was definitely other, though not nearly as strong as Álvaro or even old Vasco. She wanted to ask him why he hated her so when she had done nothing to earn it. It was when she laid her hand flat atop his that she felt it, heat pouring off him in waves. The glassy eyed look and unbalanced gait she'd mistaken for too much drink was fever. Without conscious thought, the golden light appeared at her fingertips and passed into him, searching for the cause of the infection.

  What she found made her recoil, but as happened with Goyo, once the process began, she couldn't disconnect. Her stomach churned with revulsion, not because of the disease that infected him, but because of its familiarity.

  Joan, Bobbi, Meg, Tiffany. The names rolled through her mind. Gwen, Hannah, Laurie, Bess. All thirteen young women died from the same infection that was now coursing through this man's body and into Faith's. It was demon poison and every one of those poor women eventually died.

  She didn't know about her power then and it was Manon's theory that her unrealized power was what saved Faith from the same fate. It was small con
solation when her ignorance had allowed so many others to die.

  The repulsiveness and malevolent evil of the disease filled her and her body began to tremble under the onslaught of poison and memory. All the vileness and terror she'd suffered for two long years flowed through her mind as the infection flowed through her veins. Down and down it pulled her to the place where she was little more than an animal begging for release.

  That release came when hands grabbed her arms and shoulders and pulled her away, but they didn't belong to the one she cried out for. Her silent cry of "No!" went unheard as she fought to reconnect with the man. There was more infection to draw out. This one she could save!

  The man, who'd remained in a trancelike state throughout their connection, suddenly drew back and spit at her again. The hatred was back in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never left his lips. Álvaro's backhand sent him flying across the room.

  Agdta's strong arms surrounded Faith and pulled her to the floor where she dragged the struggling girl beneath the table and covered her as best she could with her body. Faith was on her knees, down on all fours, with her arms extended in front of her and her forehead to the ground.

  From her position above, Agdta had trouble reading the child's constantly moving fingers. When the message finally got through, it shook her, more so because it was accompanied by whimpering, mewling sounds that were more animal than human. They were the only sounds this voiceless child could make to convey her terror.

  "Don't let it happen again. Don't let it happen again. Dear God, I'm so sorry. I confess. I repent. Now please, I beg of you, don't let it happen again."

  "Shhh, hija, nothing is going to happen to you," the older woman whispered, rocking the terrified girl. "You're among friends who love and care for you. They're stronger than you know. Nothing is going to happen that we can't handle together."

  A woman screamed and the whimpering stopped. Agdta felt the girl's body stiffen, suddenly alert. She stroked Faith's hair and continued her whispers. "You are not alone, mi hija. You are not alone."

  Faith took two deep cleansing breaths and forced herself to settle down. Agdta was right. This time, she wasn't alone.

  Lucien heard the woman's scream and his immediate thought was for Faith. He was barely across the plaza at the front of the old church when he yanked on the reins with more strength than necessary to turn the mare back. Her protesting whinny was loud in the stillness that surrounded the church and she rose up on hind legs, pawing at the air in fright, but she turned and when her front hooves hit the stone of the plaza, she flew back in the direction from which they came.

  Several of the man's friends had jumped to his defense. One threw himself at Lalo's back, hands curved like claws. Adam intercepted the leap and his extended arm acted like a restraining bar. Hitting him at the waist, the man buckled across the iron arm, but Adam saved him from somersaulting over by yanking him back with his free hand and encasing him in a steely bear hug. These were human men and Adam was careful of his strength, mindful of the rules against killing humans. He wanted only to stop the brawl without doing any real harm.

  He had to wait his turn to throw his captive out into the parking area. Álvaro was there first, holding another miscreant by the back of his shirt and the seat of his pants while a burly bartender in a long white apron held the door for them to pass through.

  As Álvaro drew his victim back for the toss, the man's body began to shake uncontrollably and then began to change. Adam couldn't believe what he was seeing and Álvaro's reaction didn't help him keep his cool.

  The Vigilante dropped his burden onto the wooden porch and clearly shaken, kicked at it viciously until it rolled down the two stairs and into the dirt.

  "Get the others!" he shouted to the bartender before he leapt at the thing that was forming below.

  Adam felt his own captive begin to struggle and win against the trainee's superior strength and suddenly Adam was holding not a man but a demon with scales and a tail as powerful as the one he and Lalo fought together that first night.

  Long claws sprouted from the ends of its once human arms and they slid into Adam's thigh.

  He didn't need to call up the Rage. It burst from him in a bellow of anger at the pain slicing through his leg. Muscles expanded and bulged beneath his trim and fitted clothing. His strength increased beyond what any other Paenitentia was capable except for his heroes, the Guardians.

  Álvaro had disappeared around the side of the building and again, Adam could only hear the sounds of the attack. He couldn't tell who was winning or even if the Vigilante was still alive. Álvaro was strong with special gifts, but Adam couldn't see how those gifts alone would help against a demon. He said a silent prayer for help to arrive and tightened his arms around the demon's chest.

  Adam had no weapons with which to fight. He'd left what little he owned in the case stashed under his bed. It was his night off, after all, and he thought he'd have no use for them. Vasco had assured him that demons hadn't been near the village in over a hundred years. Just his fucking luck they'd choose tonight for their fucking return engagement.

  He wouldn't make that mistake again. In the meantime, he increased the pressure around the demon's chest and hung on. Besides the repeated gouging of his thigh, Adam felt there was something not quite right with the situation. Even with his increased strength, this demon was too easy to hold. It didn't have the maneuverability of the other creature he'd fought and its powerful and therefore dangerous tail hung limp and useless between Adam's feet. Something was wrong with this creature, but Adam wasn't about to test his theory by letting it go.

  He could hear the fighting inside, strange growls and snarls, more dog-like than demon and the screech of a bird. These were combined with the screams of women and the cries of the children. Above it all he heard Lalo's strange cry of Battle Rage. It was a high pitched ululating sound and Adam teased him mercilessly about screeching like a girl. He was grateful for the distinctive sound of it now.

  Help came in the form of his Liege Lord riding into battle astride a white horse. Dressed in black with his sword raised above his head, his face hardened to a mask of stone and fangs fully descended, and a battle cry that would make the dead quake in their graves, it was no wonder the People called him El Demonio Cazadoro, the Demon Slayer.

  Adam thought his Liege Lord would use the sword to cut down the demon Adam held captive, but instead the Guardian reached for a shorter blade that was strapped to his thigh and tossed it. Without thinking, Adam's hand flashed out and caught the knife by the hilt and with the same lightning speed and lack of thought, plunged it into the demon's heart.

  Holy shit! He knew the Rage gave him strength and speed, he'd never realized it would increase his agility, too. Adam turned to Lord Lucien with a triumphant grin, but the Guardian was already charging through the door of the cantina.

  Lucien entered into what at first appeared to be chaos. A quick glance around the large room showed him this wasn't entirely the case. Someone had the presence of mind to gather most of the women and children into the farthest corner where two large wolves stood guard. The fighting was contained for the most part in the area by the bar.

  Lalo had one of the creatures pinned to the wall, a knife through its chest, but missing the heart. The demon's struggles were weakening and it was time to end it, but the trainee hesitated. This was a flaw in the young recruit that needed correction. Distasteful as it seemed, the heart or head of the demon must be taken or it would regenerate into something stronger and more deadly.

  "Stop playing with it and finish it," the Liege Lord ordered as he strode past the struggling pair. It was a clear command that brooked no argument.

  "But… but my Lord, it's not…"

  "Now!" Lucien roared, not turning back. He had no time to coddle and coach a reluctant recruit. There was more critical business to attend to.

  Back against the worn wooden bar, another demon fought wildly against its attackers.
A hawk bravely dove at the creature's face, aiming for the vulnerable eyes while avoiding the razor sharp teeth that snapped viciously each time it approached. The slashed and bleeding face of the hell-born beast was proof of the bird's tenacity in these unnatural surroundings. Its four foot wingspan made it difficult to maneuver in such a confined space and the feathers scattered across the bar were more from self-inflicted battery than any damage the demon had done. Broken bottles and glassware littered the bar, counter, tables, and floor.

  A coyote, taking advantage of the hawk's distracting tactics, lunged for the demon's exposed underbelly. Not yet defeated, the demon used its powerfully muscled legs to kick the coyote back. The animal yelped in pain as the three talon tipped toes tore a gouge along its neck.

  As the injured canine fell back, another more severely injured coyote took its place, this one with a tear along its side that bled profusely and exposed two narrow ribs.

  In spite of the animal's courage and determination, a demon this size should have prevailed. It was larger and stronger and it had more natural weapons at its disposal. Something was very wrong, but the thought did not prevent Lucien from shouting a warning to the attacking animals and running his sword through the heart of the demon with his first lunge.

  The blade pierced the body with such force that it struck the wood of the bar behind it and the Liege Lord had to yank it free to take the demon's head with the second stroke. Lucien looked around the now silent room for further threat and seeing none inside and hearing none from outside, turned back to the creature whose behavior baffled him.

  It was too easy. A demon this size should have more agility, more strength, more fight in it. The leather-like scales were too soft, too pliable. Normally, their shape and toughness acted like a protective armor that only the sharpest of blades wielded by the strongest of arms could penetrate. It was why guns were so seldom used. Unless they were used in close proximity, bullets tended to glance off and those that made it through were so slowed, they did little damage.