Guardian's Faith

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  "Then you've misplaced your beliefs. I'm no hero. I'm not even a good coward."

  Faith stood and began gathering the bags Briza had packed. The woman had a good eye. Without using the tape measure, almost everything she picked out fit like it was made for Faith's new body. Faith knew she shouldn't accept them, but every piece made her feel soft and pretty and it had been so long since anything had made her feel that way. She would swallow her pride and write to her sister. Hope would send the money to pay Lucien back.

  "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen," Briza quoted and laughed at Faith's shocked look. "You are the substance of the People's hope, Faith. You are our evidence that the balance can be restored.

  It was the Biblical passage from which her mother derived her name. "How did you know?"

  Briza laughed again. "How do you heal?"

  Faith had no idea. "Point taken." She sat back down, defeated and yet somehow surer she was meant to be here. "What is it you want me to do? And don't say restore the balance because I don't even know what that means."

  "We can start with Rosie. I think she's still alive, but I don't know for sure or for how long. I saw it in her palm. Before Goyo," she qualified. "I told her she was in danger and to be careful. I couldn't tell her more. I couldn't see more. She told me it was already too late and things played out just as her palm said they would. She disappeared.

  "I knew the night it happened. I heard Engracia's cry. Others heard it, too."

  "Engracia? My Engracia? A ghost?"

  Briza nodded. "The same. She roams the Hills of the Dead. People claim to have seen her. Some of us hear her."

  This was pure superstition. When you died you went to Heaven or Hell and that was the end of it. Faith sat upright in her chair. Her fingers cut through the air, leaving no doubt as to her opinion. "I don't believe in ghosts."

  "So," Briza began with a complacent smile, "Have you always believed in men like Lucien? Like Álvaro? Have you always believed in demons? Why is a ghost so farfetched?"

  What Briza said made sense, but only to a point. Lucien and Álvaro were living, breathing men. She'd heard about demons since she was old enough to sit in a church pew, but those demons were nothing compared to the flesh and blood reality. But ghosts? Ethereal entities of no substance? She didn't think she could go that far.

  "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  "What was the point if you were going to run?"

  A shadow crossed the front window and crossed again in the other direction. The silhouette behind the shade was big and bulky and shaped like Álvaro.

  Faith looked at her watch. "Oh, God, I'm late. I was supposed to meet him at the truck twenty minutes ago. Thanks for the tea and the help." She hefted her bags then and slipped them over her wrist. "I'm not going to thank you for the rest. In the end, I don't think you'll thank me either."

  "Wait!" Briza held out her hand. "Make him come in."

  "Briza, he's not my biggest fan. Let's not aggravate him any more than he usually is. Why do you keep tormenting him, anyway?"

  Briza's grin was sly. "I used to do it for revenge, but now I do it because the future can be changed. You see, little bruja, already things are beginning to turn around."

  Álvaro stopped in front of the door. The knob turned and Briza stepped forward as he stepped in. They met chest to chest.

  He looked down at the burgeoning bust line displayed by the deep vee of Briza's blouse. Briza looked up into lust filled eyes. Faith wished she had the power to disappear. Since she didn't, she closed her eyes and stilled her breathing instead.

  "Like what you see? Looking for a little lace? A little silk?" Briza asked in a voice that was low and sultry and as satiny smooth as the garments she sold. The woman was sex personified.

  "Stop it, Briza." Álvaro tried to sound gruff, but his deep voice caught in his throat and he had to clear it. This was what the woman did to him. Twenty years and she still had the power.

  "Too late for that."

  "Take it off," he whispered hoarsely.

  "Never," Briza whispered back. "You will want me until the day you die."

  A ray of sunshine streaked through the window and glittered off the glass tabletop where Faith was sitting.

  "Shit!" Álvaro jumped and his breath hissed out. "How long have you been there?"

  Faith gave him a little shrug and gathered up her belongings. Keeping her head down to hide her smile, she skittered around the two and out the door, giving Briza a finger wave as she passed.

  She wondered what held the two apart, because whatever was tying them together was blazing hot and obviously hard to resist. No wonder poor Álvaro was so cranky all the time.

  The first part of the ride home was uncomfortably quiet with Faith sitting primly in her seat with her bags in her lap and ankles crossed while Álvaro stared, stone faced, at the road ahead.

  Finally, when she could take it no more, Faith put her bags on the floor and touched Álvaro's arm to indicate she had something to say. His jaw loosened a little as if he, too, had something to say and his face looked ready to explode.

  "What?" he said curtly and glanced her way.

  "Why the bear? I mean something that big could have killed you." He couldn't very well kiss it from a distance.

  To her surprise, Álvaro grinned and Faith could see the face of his nephew, Diego.

  "It's the only animal I ever saw that was big and mean enough to take the head from a demon." He looked back at the road, but continued speaking. "The Patron went to Alaska to meet with another Liege Lord and took me with him. I was young, but already knew I had the blood of a Vigilante, so it was safe for me to go."

  "You mean you can't become one of the Forgotten."

  He nodded. "That's right and as my father will gladly tell you, I was more fool-hearted than brave. We visited an island up there where we saw these bears and as I said, they were strong enough to take the head of a demon.

  "If it didn't take yours first," she said with a smile. This was the first conversation she'd had with the man that wasn't awkward and stilted and she wanted to keep it going.

  "It was worth the risk and if the worst day comes, it will give me the strength to do my duty."

  "To protect the Patron, right?" Until the arrival of Lalo and Adam, Álvaro had patrolled nightly with Lucien and Faith knew he was still uncomfortable when left behind or sent out with one of the boys.

  "No," Álvaro said and he wasn't smiling now. "I protect the Patron in the hope of avoiding my duty just as Vasco did before me."

  "You don't strike me as the type to avoid your duty," she said, feeling like she was missing something. "What's so awful about it?"

  He glanced over at her and frowned. "You don't know?"

  "I guess not."

  "The sole duty of the Vigilante is to take the head of the Patron when he meets first death. From the beginning, our job was to protect the People from the Liege Lord should he turn vampire." Álvaro stopped the truck in the middle of the road, put it in park, turned to Faith and waited.

  Faith needed a moment to process that. She'd heard Engracia's story and about the deaths of the Liege Lord and his Second. She knew the Vigilante hadn't brought them second death as he should have, but she'd never understood that it was his job, his sole purpose.

  "It must be terribly hard to work side by side with someone, to grow… um, fond of someone and to know all the time what you might have to do. No wonder you're so protective of Lucien." She looked up into his eyes. "And so suspicious of me. I'm sorry."

  Álvaro blinked in surprise. "Why should you be sorry?"

  Faith looked down at the fingers weaving their words above her lap. "Because I didn't understand. Because I didn't think very well of you. Because I didn't realize how very brave you must be to put yourself in danger alongside a Guardian day after day always waiting, always watching, never knowing when the night would come…"

  Álvaro covered her tiny hands
with his big one. "My family has stood by Lucien ad Toussaint for five generations. I'll keep him safe for another."

  She nodded and smiled and when he released her hands, she asked, "How old were you when you became the Vigilante."

  "Twenty-five, when the old man stepped down. I have served for twenty years and hope to serve for twenty more. Your little boyfriend, Diego, will be the one to take my place."

  Faith couldn't picture that chattering bundle of mischief growing into the man Álvaro was. "Has the Vigilante always come from your family?" she asked and knew immediately she shouldn't have. She'd forgotten the one who failed.

  "No. The gift was carried by the Mendozas until they failed and it fell to us."

  "The ones who own the store?"

  "The same," Álvaro nodded as he put the truck in gear, "And the shame has weighed heavily on their men ever since."

  Faith sat quietly thinking for the rest of the short ride home. No wonder the man at the store had treated her so rudely. Engracia still haunted their family tree. Poor Laura. How awful to be born into a family that hated the brujas. Was it any wonder her mother insisted she keep it secret?

  Chapter 23

  Hope's face was just a few feet in front of her, crying and screaming her faraway name. "Faith! Faith! Faith!"

  Her sister's nails dug into her wrists, gouging the skin and slickening her grip with the blood that flowed freely from the wounds. No matter how Beauty tried to grip those saving hands, she couldn't. She was too small, too weak, too afraid. Beauty could feel the glass from the window digging into her stomach as she tried to force her body though, but she was too small, too weak, too afraid to fight the thing behind her.

  Her thrashing legs and kicking feet did nothing to deter its climb up her body. There was more pain as his scales slipped over the backs of her naked legs, scraping the tender skin and then his sharpened teeth found purchase in the softest part of her inner thigh.

  She screamed as she watched her sister's face fade away into the darkness, leaving her behind. Sad tears coursed down Hope's cheeks and she shook her head. "You're too small, too weak, too afraid," she called over and over through the darkness until her voice was nothing but a whisper.

  A whisper drowned out by the snarl of the demon. "Why would I ever call you Beauty. You're stained, stained. It's time to throw you away."

  Beauty knew what that meant. Tyn was going to give her over to his men. By then she was too small and weak and afraid to scream. She was too afraid to die.

  And as always, the demon men came crashing through the door.

  But this time, something else came with them; a tiny bird that flitted and buzzed about her attacker's heads distracting them away from her. They swatted at it with their monstrous claws, but the little bird was too tiny and quick to be caught by such ungainly creatures. It darted in and out, drawing them away from their intended victim. Beauty took it for a sign she wasn't alone. She had someone who would fight this battle with her. The little bird had the same faraway name as she did. Its name was Faith.

  "Leave us!" Lucien shouted at the faces crowding around the door.

  The two trainees were there with frightened faces still showing signs of the Rage that had gripped them when woken from sound sleep by her screams. Vasco leaned around the corner, his white hair standing on end.

  Agdta stood at the front. She looked more worried than frightened as she clutched her robe to her chest. She'd heard the girl's screams all the way at the back of the house and heedless of the rules, had come scurrying through with her father at her heels.

  Álvaro, solid and stoic, ignored his Patron's order and went to the bathroom to retrieve a cloth rinsed with cool water. Silently, he handed it over with a nod at Faith before he left the bedroom.

  Rather than go back to their rooms, the small band followed Agdta back to her kitchen where she put on the kettle and filled a plate with cookies and brownies. No one commented on her shaking hands, but Adam took the kettle from her and made the instant coffee she'd set out on the counter.

  "I got it, Mamacita," he said affectionately when she protested. "Let the big guy take care of you for a change."

  She patted his cheek with the same affection. "You're a good boy."

  "I never heard her make a sound before," Lalo said shakily, "I didn't think she could."

  "What happened today," Vasco asked Álvaro as he entered the kitchen. "Did you fight? Did you give her a hard time?"

  Álvaro sighed. "Nothing happened, Papi. She did her shopping. I did mine. She left her bags in the truck. I waited for her and when she didn't return on time, I went looking. I asked a few people and found her with Briza. She wasn't upset. She wasn't angry." He didn't tell them how embarrassed she'd been by his reaction to that woman. "We talked on the way home."

  Everyone stopped and looked at him.

  "What? We talked. She was nice. I was nice. We talked."

  "See? There's that word again. Nice," Lalo said, making everyone smile and relax a bit.

  "She asked what it meant to be the Vigilante."

  "And you told her? You told her it was your duty to kill the Patron? No wonder she has nightmares." Agdta slapped her brother's arm, splashing his coffee over his hand.

  "Damn it woman. She was fine I tell you. She was yawning by the time we got back to the Hacienda and complaining about not enough hours in the day." The Vigilante wrapped his hands around his mug to protect it against another attack. "It wasn't me. I didn't give her nightmares. What I told her wouldn't make her scream like that." Nothing he'd ever encountered could make a person scream like that.

  "I'm going back to bed," Vasco decreed, but not before he took a bite of the last brownie on the plate. "There's nothing more we can do and the food is gone," he said sadly, "God and Lucien will take care of the rest."

  *****

  Lucien lifted Faith from the end of the bed where the footboard was digging cruelly into her stomach. Using the cool, damp cloth Álvaro had given him, he wiped the perspiration from her brow before settling her back on her pillows and climbing in beside her.

  Propriety be damned. He didn't care if the whole damned world knew he was spending the day in her bed. He wouldn't leave her alone. If he had his way, he would never leave her alone again.

  In his long life, he had known heartbreak and tragedy. He had known anger so great that his Rage evolved into cold, blind fury. He had performed his duty in ways that few were called to do, but he had never known terror. That was what struck him when he heard Faith's screams.

  They'd awakened him from sound sleep and his first reaction should have been to reach for a defensive weapon, but all his years of training abandoned him. Those raw and sharp edged screams had held such tortured pain and hopelessness they'd pierced his heart and rendered him immobile if only for a second. It felt like minutes before his bare feet hit the ground and he was running toward the sound. He didn't question where it came from. He knew.

  The others came running, too, but they didn't matter. Only Faith mattered.

  Finding her like that, reaching over the end of the bed, clawing at the empty space had only increased his fear. His sister had done that, too; staring with wild sightless eyes into the dark abyss of her memories.

  The nuns assured him that Marisol no longer had such horrible nightmares. Her life was peaceful and content behind the high walls of what was now euphemistically called a Rest Home and he chose to believe them. Marisol's infrequent letters were filled with simple pleasures and childlike in their innocence. Her mind had slowly filtered out the horrors she'd witnessed and reverted to a time when life was sweet and perfect; a little girl's life of hair ribbons and butterflies.

  Faith was older than Marisol when her ordeal began. He was sure of it. He was also sure Faith had not only endured her torment, but fought past the anguish and suffering that must have followed. She was physically stronger than she knew with a strength of will more powerful than she imagined. She was a survivor.

  He wr
apped his arms around her and drew her to his chest, something Marisol would never allow. He rubbed her hair with his cheek and massaged her back with long, gentle strokes until her staring eyes closed and she relaxed against him. Lucien remained awake long after Faith returned to peaceful sleep.

  He was a survivor, too. Though he'd never seen himself that way before, he'd found his way to cope all those many years before. He'd closed himself off from the tragedy around him and relied on his sense of duty and training to carry him through. The modern world would say he ran on auto-pilot, but back then he simply did what must be done.

  He remembered little of what he'd felt at the time. He was numb with grief and overwhelmed with responsibilities and that became the pattern of his life. He did his duty and little else.

  Faith was right. He'd withdrawn from life. He did his duty to the village and the People, but he cared little about their lives. For a while, he met his social obligations to the Paenitentia at the enclave until he found no one missed him when he didn't attend. Even his interactions with his household became minimal and impersonal.

  Faith stirred against his chest and Lucien smiled. It took a little hummingbird flying through his door to wake him from his long, duty-filled sleep.

  He carefully shifted his body down deeper into the bed until Faith's head rested on his chest. He pulled the covers up around them and groaned inwardly when her leg curled up and over him until her knee came to rest right where it would disturb him most.

  "Someday, little hummingbird," he whispered into her hair, "Someday soon I'm going to make you mine and we'll fight your demons together."

  As if she understood, Faith snuggled up closer to him and Lucien slid his free hand down along her back until it was resting on her hip. He was filled with a sense of rightness, of how things should be and he finally closed his eyes, ready for sleep.