The Guardian (Callista Ryan Series)

by Alexandra Weiss

  He met her furious eyes with his own, gentle ones. The smile had disappeared, and he looked as though he were being intentionally patient with her. Of course, this did nothing to soothe her temper.

  “So, what is your story? I’m dying to know,” she said, suddenly intent upon angering him. He said nothing, seeming to understand her angle and unwilling to give into it. “Oh, don’t be so shy. Big, tough guy like you? You’ve got the dark and broody thing going so well. You must have a story,” she said, hearing the words tumble from her mouth with aggression and derision. “Some tragic secret buried in your past, right?” she asked, twisting the knife.

  He met her challenging gaze levelly, and took another bite of cereal, unflinching.

  Her own irritation grew more defined because his didn’t. “Huh,” she went on. “Maybe I’ve got you wrong. Maybe you’re just the brawn of the operation. You put out a mysterious line, but really there’s nothing going on upstairs.”

  His smile returned at the comment, as though he enjoyed her baiting him. Angry, she forced herself to return the smile. “Well?” she asked, goading him again.

  “Are those my only options?” he asked, leaning forwards now. She stepped back, surprised that he was actually talking. His voice was steady and low, though there was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  “What?” she asked, her voice small.

  “You have summarized two different characters, narrowed each down to a simple personality. But must I categorize myself as one or the other? Should I necessarily be either an insurgent or an idiot?” he asked, each word punching a little harder.

  “I—“ she said, wondering what insurgent meant, but was cut off.

  “Allow me to ask you—which makeup are you?” he asked. “I see you are wearing yesterday’s shirt, which now bears a coffee stain. This must make you a rebel, as your culture frowns upon such poor grooming. But, wait, you are in a culture now about which and about whose customs you are completely ignorant, which paints you as the fool.”

  Callie frowned, understanding his ploy now. “Alright, alright. God, I was just kidding.”

  Alex took another bite of cereal, quiet again. His expression was calm now. Callie felt awkward standing there, and so she slowly walked around the counter and sat next to him in a stool. She felt guilty about teasing him; it wasn’t his fault she was in a bad mood.

  “So….” Callie said, trying to break the tension. Alex looked up at her briefly, as though expecting her to say something. But she got caught somewhere in his chocolate eyes, and lost her words. When she was silent, he looked back down at his paper. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall her ability to think. “That waterfall,” she began, relieved to have thought of a topic for conversation. “The one I saw yesterday in your…mind, I guess. Can I see it?”

  Alex asked, turning another page, “You would like to practice Perception?”

  “No,” Callie said. “I mean for real. Come on, there’s nothing else to do around here. Will you show me?”

  Alex put down his spoon, but didn’t meet her eyes. Callie waited for him to say something, but he remained silent.

  “Okay,” she said. “I guess that’s a no.”

  Shay walked into the room then, and wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?” she asked. Callie blanched. Shay looked at her, and sighed. “Would you like to shower?” she asked.

  “You have a shower?” Callie asked in surprise.

  Shay rolled her eyes and disappeared into the back room for another moment, before emerging once more with something white draped over her arm.

  “Here,” she said. “It may be small on you; your proportions are longer than mine.”

  Callie took the offered piece of cloth, and saw that it was a dress which matched the one Shay was wearing exactly. She noted the way Shay’s dress fit on its owner; it hung long and loose, cutting off a few inches below the knees. She assumed that such a dress would fall a little shorter upon her own figure, as Shay was half a foot shorter than she was. But the gesture itself was the sweetest that anyone here had made.

  “Thank you,” Callie said sincerely, unsure why such a small act caused her to feel so grateful.

  Shay nodded tersely, and said, “The bathroom is through there.” She pointed to the back room. “First door on the left.”

  Callie didn’t waste a second. She was beginning to smell herself again. She walked through the back door, and saw that the room beyond contained a small bed spread with checkered blue bed sheets, a circular bedside table with an analog clock, and a massive bookshelf covered in tattered volumes and potted plants.

  She saw on the left a door, and found, to her great relief, a tiny, square bathroom, fully equipped with shower. She closed the door behind her and rid herself of the offensive pajamas, stepping into the shower cautiously. She smiled at the thought that she was showering in a tree.

  An unobtrusive glass bottle sat in the corner of the shower, and she picked it up before turning on the water. There was an amber-colored liquid inside, which smelled of chamomile. She realized that this was likely soap.

  To Callie’s great surprise, the moment that she turned the faucet, warm water gushed from the faucet head. She had no idea where they’d installed a water heater, but she barely cared. It felt wonderful, and as the hot water ran across her back, she felt the stress built up over the past two days begin to melt away.

  She knew that she had stayed in the shower for far too long as soon as she stepped out. But she couldn’t have helped herself. The steam had uncoiled her nerves and unclogged her pores and relaxed her mind. She would have stayed in there for another half hour, if she weren’t so worried about being naked in a tree house.

  She pulled on the dress that Shay had leant her. It fit as she thought it would, stretching down to just above her knees. She didn’t like the back of it, she felt too bare in the wide, deep V that stretched down to just below her rib cage. But it smelled like tree sap and felt like soft cotton, and so she kept it on.

  When she emerged from the bathroom and walked back into the living room, she saw that Shay was gathering a box of plants from the cupboard.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Callie asked. The two people in the room looked at her. Shay’s face was determined, focused on the task that she was performing as she barely spared a glance for Callie. Alex’s eyes, on the other hand, widened for a split second, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. After the moment had passed, however, he regained his emotionless façade and turned away, back to Shay.

  “One of the villagers came back from assignment,” Shay said. “He was holding a bomb when it exploded. I am on my way there now to see what I can do to help.”

  “He was holding a bomb?” Callie asked in shock. “How is he still…oh, right,” she said, remembering that they were immortal, and that bombs couldn’t kill them.

  “I won’t be gone long. Zeke is still asleep right now; his journey wore him out,” Shay said, exchanging a meaningful look with Alex. Alex smirked in reply, and Shay left with her box in hand.

  “What was that about?” Callie asked, sitting next to him at the kitchen counter.

  “Zeke is an old friend of ours,” Alex explained. “Though some people don’t have such good opinions of him.”

  Callie let that be, though she suspected there was more to the story. “That reminds me of something,” Callie said. “Shay said you’re a protector. The spy kind of Guardian, I mean.”

  “What?” Alex asked with a laugh.

  Callie was momentarily stunned by the way his face lit up when he laughed. He was transformed, all the darkness and suspicion vanished from his features. “I—uh,” she stuttered, unable to think. She shook her head. “Shay told me there are two kinds of Guardians. I just figured, I mean from what she said, that the second kind is sort of a James Bond kind of role. You know, missions, and all.”

  Alex smiled, looking down at the counter. “Goldfinger,�
� he murmured.

  Callie started at the name. “Wha—yeah,” she said, amazed. “That was my favorite movie growing up. How did you—”

  “It’s nothing like James Bond,” Alex said, the words a little haunted.

  Callie suspected that he was remembering the bad missions, that he didn’t like being reminded of them. “Oh,” she whispered. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “About a mission, I mean. Come on, I want to know.”

  He stood up as though the conversation were finished and circled the counter, walking to the sink. “Can’t,” he replied.

  “Oh, right,” Callie said sarcastically. “Emeric’s rules. Look, Alex, what am I going to do? It’s not like I can tell anyone, anyways. Well, except Shay, but what would she care?”

  He shook his head as he finished washing his cereal bowl, and then walked into the living room. Callie frowned in determination. “Please?” she asked, getting up then to follow him. She sat next to him on the couch.

  “No,” he said, scooting away from her. She followed him again.

  “I promise I won’t tell anyone. Not even Shay. And I probably won’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Global politics has never been a forte of mine,” she persisted. When he was still silent, she said, “Please?”

  He sighed, exasperated, and looked at her the way one would regard an annoying child.

  “Ugh, fine!” she cried, standing up. She stalked away. “But it’s not like there’s anything else to do. I mean, what, I’ll stand around and look at the trees some more? Work on this weird brain-trick? Try to understand Shay’s medical jargon? And all I really want to do is go home, but you people—“

  “Thessalonica,” Alex said quietly.

  Callie spun around, surprised. “What?” she asked.

  He turned his head towards her slowly, and said, “If it will make you be quiet.”

  Callie understood that he was giving in. She smiled hugely and bounced back to the couch, perching herself next to him once more and zipping her lips with her fingers. Alex rolled his eyes.

  “Back then,” he started, “it was the Kingdom of Macedonia. The city was founded by King Cassander, who named it for his wife, Thessalonike. Generations later, the new king, Philip, began to war with the Roman Republic. At the time, the Republic wasn’t much, but it was a rising force. When Philip died, he left his son Perseus the kingdom and the war. I was to make sure that Perseus lost.”

  “Why?” Callie asked.

  “The city of Thessalonica would eventually become a major trading post, connecting Europe and Asia. Emeric predicted this, and realized that in order for this to happen, Thessalonica would need to become a power of the Roman Republic, and thus Perseus had to fail. Therefore, I was sent to cripple the Macedonian armies. Now, at the time, Perseus relied heavily on one of his generals, a man I knew as Milo.”

  “Wait. Milo—like, the chief of the village?” Callie asked. “The one who was in charge before Emeric?”

  “No. He had the same name, but it wasn’t the same man,” Alex said, turning his face away. Callie sensed the same sadness he’d felt last night when Milo had come into the conversation.

  “Go on,” she urged, hoping to make him forget about that sadness.

  He took a breath, and continued. “To diminish Perseus’ army, I had to render Milo useless. I posed as a deserter of the Roman army by wearing a cape over my shoulders. Back then, hunchbacks were more common, and no one questioned me. On the night that the Roman army was plotting an attack under the leadership of a Roman general named Paulus, I disguised myself and approached Perseus, alerting him to Paulus’ plans. Perseus sent Milo with an army of twelve thousand soldiers to wipe out Paulus’ army. However, even though Milo’s army outnumbered that of Paulus, I was near Paulus’ army and aided the Republic to a victory.”

  “How? You couldn’t fight. Not without someone seeing.”

  “That ‘brain-trick’ can come in handy, if you learn how to use it,” he said. “I was able to distract Milo’s army so that they were left vulnerable. Milo was driven back into Katerini, defeated. The defeat of his greatest general caused Perseus, the Macedonian king, to act as a general in the upcoming combat. This was a crucial component, as I had planned that Perseus would die in order for Macedonia to fall. I was hoping that the Roman army would kill Perseus in the next battle.”

  He looked sidelong at Callie, and said drolly, “That is not what happened. Midafternoon on the next day saw the Romans approach the Macedonian army to begin the final battle. At first, it appeared as though the Macedonians would win; they pushed the Roman army back into Pydna, a nearby village. There was death everywhere I looked. Men were falling by the hundreds, and then the thousands. The terrain was stained brown as the blood which soaked the ground. I was sure that so much destruction would ultimately be the downfall of the Roman army, and was beginning to feel nervous. I had not planned on intervening in this battle; there was no way that I could without the cover of night to aid in hiding my wings. But then, once on rockier terrain in Pydna, the Romans were able to break through enemy lines and win in hand-to-hand combat. I sat on the sidelines, watching the battle from above. As the carefully constructed lines of the Macedonian army began to split, I kept expecting a Roman to attack Perseus, who sat upon his horse while commanding the right wing cavalry. There was so much chaos, so many swords being wielded in nonsensical directions. The sound of battle is one that never leaves a person’s ears. The cries of the dying intermingled with the vengeful shouts of the liveliest warriors. Before any Roman had the chance to kill the Macedonian king, however, Perseus fled, not even allowing his cavalry to see action. He abandoned his troops, leading the cavalry out of battle. Ever the warriors, despite their king’s betrayal, the Macedonian troops continued to fight until every last soldier lie dying or dead upon the rocky ground of Pydna.

  “Perseus’ cowardice, while it saved his life, actually proved beneficial to my cause. I had suspected that the kingdom would not fall without the demise of its king, but soon after the battle, Perseus surrendered to Paulus and was taken prisoner by the Republic. The Macedonian kingdom was officially taken over by the Republic, and, as Emeric had suggested, the city of Thessalonica became a major trading operation. It united Europe and Asia in a way that the continents had never before known possible.”

  Callie sat, wide-eyed, on the couch as he was speaking. “And what happened to Perseus?” she asked.

  “He was kept in prison for the rest of his life, and died there two years later. Most of the kingdom viewed him as a traitor, even suggesting that he should have committed suicide rather than surrender as he did.”

  Callie felt uncomfortable. “So, because of you, a man who had done nothing wrong lost his kingdom, the respect of his people, and eventually his life in prison?”

  Alex looked at her evenly, unapologetic. “Sometimes it is necessary for one human to die in order for millions of others to prosper,” he said. “Nothing is ever simple.”

  “And who says that’s your call?” Callie asked. “What, you can sit up here and allow your precious leader to play god, while in the mean time you destroy innocent lives?”

  “He wasn’t exactly innocent,” Alex said with a small smile. “Perseus at one time was the mastermind behind his own brother’s murder. He convinced his father that Demetrius, the king’s eldest son, was a traitor, and thereafter had his father poison Demetrius. That is how Perseus was able to take the throne in the first place.”

  “Regardless,” Callie said. “It shouldn’t be your business to dictate who lives and who dies.”

  “We simply stop humans from doing the same on a massive scale,” Alex said. “There was a time when we could not interfere in the business of humans. Emeric was—detained.”

  “And?” Callie challenged. “Did the world end?”

  “No,” Alex replied, anger seeping into his normally cool expression. “But the lives of six milli
on Jews did.”

  Callie felt as though she’d been slapped. She paused, the air draining from her lungs. “The Holocaust?” she whispered.

  Alex stared at her for a second, his face grim. When he spoke again, he chose his words deliberately. “Our interference is the only thing which allows the human race to exist. Genocide, disease, conflicts between states—all threaten to wipe out the species. Luckily for you, humans parent Guardians, and therefore we have an interest in keeping you alive. We help your people to overcome disaster and catastrophe so that you won’t become extinct, and thereby allow our own species to multiply.”

  Callie swallowed. “But I don’t understand,” she said finally. “All those things—genocide, disease—they all happen. Right now, they’re happening.”

  “And we have people working those cases,” Alex replied promptly. He gestured towards the door. “Shay is as close as any scientist to discovering the cure for certain major diseases; and as for the wars going on, be assured that there are always Guardians around, subtly manipulating the course of events in order to save the most people possible. We cannot prevent what you humans get yourselves into; all we can do is strive for the best possible outcome.”

  Callie was about to reply, but right then Shay flew in through the door. Callie was startled by how pale she looked. “Shay?” Callie asked.

  Alex stood and walked swiftly to the woman’s side. He murmured something to her, and she shook her head. She leaned up and whispered something in his ear, and when she was finished, his expression was murderous. He flew out without another word.

  “What’s going on?” Callie asked, standing up.

  Shay looked across the room at her, her lips pinched together. “A woman from the village has been spreading words about you,” Shay said.

  “Me?” Callie asked. “How? I mean, no one even knows I’m here.”

  “Emeric believes, and Alex will soon come to agree, that it is time for you to meet the villagers. He has called for a meeting. Tonight.”