Reluctant Guardian (30 page)

I watch her face. There isn't one part of her that will mourn my demise. Not one iota of guilt will wrack her conscience. The only thing I can think of is that I haven't said goodbye to my family. What will happen to my brother still imprisoned down the hall?

With aching resignation, I close my eyes. I will not show Anaita my fear, my utter grief at having lost. I feel a slight breeze as she lifts her arms higher and the rush of wind as she brings her arms down... but nothing happens.

Anaita jerks to the side.

I open my eyes.

Brecken holds her wrist in a vise-like grip, like she is a little bird in the clutches of a tiger.

Despite his lack of blood, he sits there, staring into her face, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his face flexing. He presses her arm to the breaking point... almost. She falls into the soft blankets, her face surrounded by red satin.

“Enough,” he whispers, looming over her. The tiny holes in his body still drip with blood. Crimson beads fall from his arms and chest onto her pink robes, the stains growing like rose blossoms as they spread. He can hardly sit up, let alone fight Anaita. “Your time has come to an end.” From the look on his face, he seems to know her.

“Oh no,” she spits. “It's just begun.” Swiveling her body, she twists out of his grasp and knocks him in the face with her elbow. He grunts and falls back, too weak to put up a fight. I scramble over the bed, not quite believing in his miraculous resurrection.

Heaving leaden breaths, Brecken comes up on one elbow, his face devoid of fear. But there is something else. Something I've never seen in his expression before. A power radiates around him, despite his weakness.

“Get away,” he whispers.

Confused, I wonder if he's talking to me. Before I can ask, I'm yanked back. Anaita hauls me off the bed and away from Brecken. Her arm tightens around my neck as she drags me off the stage, down the steps, and down the hall to the cell rooms.

My last glimpse of Brecken is of him forcing himself off the bed and falling onto the floor.

Anaita and I reach the first room and she throws me inside, slamming the door shut behind us. “Let's settle this without interference.”

Dread entangles me in paralyzing fear. I was at peace when I thought Brecken was dead but he's not! He's alive! I can't let her banish my soul now! But I can't defeat her. I know that. She is too strong, too powerful, too frightening.

“You've learned nothing,” she growls, moving forward with precise steps. “You don't get any of it.” She throws her head back and laughs. “I guess that's good for me.”

She grabs me, yanking me close with one hand on my arm, the other around my neck. She presses me into the wall. I have no need to breathe, but the gritting of her teeth, the hate in her eyes, sucks my life away. Does she really despise me so much? Why? What have I ever done to her?

Knowing I need to stall for time, I blurt the first thing that pops into my head. “I know the truth.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” My mind scrambles for something that will make sense. And then I have it. A slow smile spreads across my lips. “You loved him. Didn't you? And he rejected you. That's it, isn't it?” I see in her eyes that I have hit a chord.

Her lips purse and she pushes me harder against the wall, her face only inches from mine. “How dare you say such a thing?”

“But I'm right aren't I?”

“No!”

“You said yourself you like bad boys. Who else is there?” I realize my guess is accurate, and even though I am only looking for something to keep the conversation going, I have hit the nail on the head.

“You are so stupid,” she hisses, spittle flying from her mouth and onto my face. “I have no idea what he sees in you, someone so weak, so pathetic.”

“Admit it,” I say, drawing it out.

She stares with hatred into my eyes, her teeth grinding.

“You're forgetting something,” I say.

She frowns and her grip on my neck tightens.

“Raphael once told me I am more powerful than I realize, that I can do things that would amaze me, that I have the power to crush evil. Even if it wounds me in the process, I will always prevail if I truly believe it.” And even though I am close to death—real death—my mind is clear. Everything is laid open before me like a book, and I know what I have to do. I raise my hand and place it on her wrist, gently pushing her away as though she is only a small child. With my other hand, I take her wrist.

She stares in amazement. I feel her resist, struggling to regain control, but instead of being powerful, overcoming me, she grows weak. More astonishingly, I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid of her, of Andras, or even for Brecken. I know everything will be okay, even though I'm not sure how.

I turn Anaita around so I am behind her, still holding her wrists, and push her back toward the auditorium. She sputters, curses, and yanks, but she can't break my grip or get away.

Raphael stands at the stage's steps, placing a pair of fiery shackles around Andras' wrists and ankles. “Ah, I see the guardian has finally arrived.” His eyes twinkle and he smiles knowingly.

I grin back. “Yeah, I am.”

“It's about time,” he says, handing me a pair of strange, glowing chains. Two brilliant angels come to my side and hold Anaita's arms as I clasp a shackle around her right hand then another on her left. “Say hi to Mr. Roland for me,” I whisper in her ear. “That is, if you're lucky enough to go there.”

Her eyes narrow. “Mr. Roland will seem like a birthday party compared to what I'm going to do to you some day.”

The power of her words hits me, but I resist those old, familiar feelings of despair and insecurity. I give her my best glare to prove her words have little effect.

The angels lead her, Andras, and Lamia away through a luminescent doorway that stands in the center of the auditorium. A legion of heavenly angels march at their side, their iridescent swords ready to strike with one false move. Raphael follows behind.

“Where are they going?” I ask the angel who is still beside me.

“They'll be taken before a council and sentenced, then locked away for a very, very long time,” the warrior says. He smiles and then walks away.

But that phrase: for a very, very long time, does not sound permanent enough to me. I hope they
never
get out, that Anaita will never be able to make good on her threat. She scares me more than anyone else does.

I'm left alone. I'm too nervous to walk up to Brecken, who is surrounded by angels excited to help him walk toward the glowing doorway... to lead him away. They are all so happy to see him, to be near him. He doesn't even seem to remember I exist, and I don't want to demand his attention while he is busy with what must be a long-awaited reunion.

I expect him to look over though, to smile, to wave. Anything.

He doesn't.

I wait, pathetic and rejected, but he steps through the glowing door without looking back. The pain in my heart intensifies as reality hits. He is moving on. I press a fist to my heart, but the ache remains.

Moving slowly back through the halls off the auditorium. I'm not sure what to do now. The battle has ended. The good guys won. We can all go home.

Except for one problem.

I don't have one.

 

~No Goodbye~

Alisa

 

I stare at the shimmering doorway as many angels pass through to go home. I turn to one who waits at the back of the line. “So, who is Bretariel anyway?” He smiles gloriously, and I'm reminded of the elves in Lord of the Rings. Funny the things you remember at the oddest times.

“He's a Watcher,” the angel says, “Hired—so to speak—by our side, to help defeat Abaddan's hosts. He had only one final task to accomplish for his redemption to be complete. Life. To become human. To place his soul in a body, be born to a family, and prove himself worthy. Now he has done that.

“This above all proves the intent of his heart since he wouldn't be able to remember anything from his past. His memories would all be erased like everyone else's when they're born. He accepted the terms and has been watched over closely his whole life.”

I have no reply. I blink stupidly at the man before me. “Oh.”

Some of the angels stay to clean up the mess. And although the real instigators have been shipped off, there are still the human acolytes to deal with. They mill around, their eyes glassy. Like they don't remember where they are.

I hadn't paid attention to where Jill went during all the action, but, as I wander around, I find her hiding in one of the back cells close to where Brecken was locked up. She lies curled in a corner, her eyes pinched shut, her hands trembling over her mouth. A shiver of revulsion pulses through me. This is what she deserves. I can tell that madness has taken hold of her. She's gone off the deep end, and for a moment, I feel a tiny bit of sympathy for the poor thing that witnessed and participated in some serious evil tonight. I can't help but wonder if there is a special corner of hell being prepared for her. She stole Brecken's blood, trying to get a taste of immortality after all.

Jill shifts slightly and looks up, her eyes wide and frightened. I don't think she can see me so I stay where I am, staring down at her pathetic form. She searches the room like she knows someone is watching.

She may not have started this whole mess, but she was an obedient little lieutenant, following orders. Orders that she had to have known were diabolic. I wish her a wonderful eternity in perdition.

On my way back down the hall, I stop at the cell where my brother is. He didn't see any of it. Not Raphael, Anaita, or Lamia reading from her satanic recipe book. He missed all the good stuff, and I am so glad. I didn't want to walk in and see him huddled in the corner with his thumb in his mouth, his brain fried from witnessing such horror.

To my relief he sits on the lumpy, stained cot, his knees up, his head hanging. I move through the locked door with only minor discomfort and sit beside him, wishing there was some way I could speak to him.
Really
speak to him. To tell him how much I love him, and how sorry I am for killing myself.

“I can give you a moment if you'd like,” a voice says from the door.

I glance up. A beautiful angel with radiant red hair stands in the doorway, her white robes flowing out around her.

“What?”

“You want to talk with your brother, right?” She cocks her head to the side, a smile playing around her mouth. “You can. For a moment.”

It takes a second to sink in, but her bright blue eyes confirm my hope. She nods and then leaves the room. I turn to my brother. My big, stupid, wonderful brother. His hair lays matted, and greasy, dark smudges stain his cheek, and a deep sadness wells in his eyes. I place my hand on his and gaze softly at his face.

He turns his head and blinks, his brow furrowing. He tries to focus in the dim light, and a second later, with a sharp intake of breath, he says, “Alisa?”

I nod, the hot spark of tears behind my eyes. They aren't real tears, but the feeling is the same. My heart swells as I slide closer to him. “We only have a minute.”

“What are you doing here?” Then the full weight of his question registers. With shame and embarrassment, he turns his face away and his voice catches. “I'm so sorry.”

I smooth my hand over his head with only love in my heart. “I know how hard life can be. I know that it sometimes takes years to look back and see the consequences of our choices. It's all right. I understand. I really do.”

Shifting his body, he looks deeply into my eyes, his mouth open in wonder. “You're alive?”

His question, so innocent, so pure, makes me laugh.

“Yep. We go on, Derek. I've been watching over you, trying to figure out why you were with Lamia and Jill in the first place.”

He hangs his head, shaking it back and forth. “I don't know. I really screwed up. I just wanted... I don't know what I wanted.”

I smile, hoping that he won't ever forget this moment. “Just learn from your mistake. And, Derek?” I want to say something profound, something prophetic, something powerful that he could keep with him always, that will protect him from other bad choices, but nothing comes to mind. So I say what is in my heart. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts, and you don't know how it kills me to see you and our family suffering. I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused. Please... please forgive me. If I could go back—well, I'd give anything to go back.”

He stares at me, the wonder of the moment shining in his eyes, his head nodding. “I understand. And I
do
forgive you. I just wish you were still here. All the time, you know? Like before.” He looks like he might actually cry. It would be the first time—that I know of—since I died.

“Me too.” I lean close, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne and sweat. “I'll still be here watching, so be good.” With a chuckle, I kiss his cheek, bestowing all the love in that one gesture that I can.”

“Can I tell Mom and Dad about this?” he asks.

“Definitely. I want them to know I've been here all along, and so has Gram and Natty too. I'm happy where I am. Really. Tell them that.” It is a partial truth. I'd much rather be with them in a real body, experiencing life, and not on my way to wherever I'll be sent, but I want them to move on, to release the pain they've been harboring. The pain that I caused. “And tell them I'm really sorry.”

“I will.” A smile stretches across his face, happier and more content than I've seen him in a long time. The stress lines around his eyes relax and the hardness of his mouth smoothes. “They'll be so happy.”

“And no more fighting with Mom.”

“You saw that?”

“Um, yeah. I did.”

He shakes his head, lost in the memory, but not quite as embarrassed as before. The flow has come back, that comfortable camaraderie we shared.

“Well, you better get going,” I say, standing. “You should get home.”