Malcolm (Book 1, The Redemption Series)

by S. J. West

  “I don't remember that,” I confess. “Yet, something inside me seems to remember you.”

  I try to sit up and Will helps me accomplish what should have been a simple task. I look around and see that we're inside an old house with furniture that looks like it's about to fall apart. I hear a rattle by the sliding glass doors which face towards the sea and watch as Malcolm opens them to step inside. A gust of cold wind follows him in, and I hug the blanket I’m lying underneath closer to my chin to block its chill. His arms are filled with short logs of wood. He slams the door shut behind him and turns to look at me.

  I see him visibly take in a steadying breath when he sees that I’m awake.

  “How are you feeling?” Malcolm asks, dropping the logs in his arms onto the floor before walking over to me.

  “Better,” I tell him, realizing the coldness I felt before is gone now and my thoughts are a lot clearer.

  Malcolm holds a hand out to Will. Will stands and shakes it.

  “Thanks for coming. I was worried you wouldn’t for a moment there,” Malcolm says.

  “There was no need to worry, Malcolm. I've been waiting for her to be born for as long as you have. Time might move differently in Heaven, but some things still seem to take forever to happen.”

  “Did father send any instructions for us?”

  Will shakes his head. “No, He didn't send a message. And before you ask, no one else sent a message either.”

  Malcolm nods that he understands but doesn't look too happy about what Will said. I have a feeling Malcolm was hoping for a message from Lilly. It just deepens the mystery surrounding her hold over him, even in death.

  “I need to get back,” Will says, looking down at me once again. He holds one of his hands down to help me to my feet.

  Once I'm standing, I wrap the thin blanket around my body because I'm still only wearing my underwear.

  “Am I ever going to see you again?” I ask, hoping this won't be the last time I see Will.

  Will smiles crookedly. “Let's both hope you don't need me to come down again for a long time. I'm only allowed to travel between Heaven and Earth when you need to be brought back to life. I love seeing you, but I would much rather just have you stay alive, Anna.”

  “Yes,” Malcolm agrees wholeheartedly, looking me dead in the eyes, “let's make that our top priority. I don’t think I can take you having another near death experience.”

  Malcolm turns his attention back to Will.

  “Can you do me a favor before you leave?”

  “What do you need?”

  “Could you go to my home in New York and grab Anna's outfit, her sword and my cane for us? They’re in my bedroom lying on the bed. I had hoped we would be able to land closer to the city and rendezvous with Jered there, but that’s not possible now. So, leave him a note telling him where we are and instruct him to bring the horses and other things we packed this afternoon here instead.”

  Will nods and phases, causing me to instantly panic.

  “Daniel told me Levi can track our phasing,” I say in alarm.

  Malcolm nods. “Yes, he can track any phasing you or I might do, but he can't track Will's phasing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Will is a guardian angel. His phasing is different. He can travel through the veil between Heaven and Earth during the window of time he's given. As long as he travels to Heaven before coming back here, Levi won't be able to track him.”

  “Why didn’t we just get Will to phase us to your home then?”

  “Because he isn’t allowed to phase other people.”

  A couple of minutes pass before Will returns with my sword, Malcolm's wolf head cane and a large package wrapped in brown cloth tied with a string.

  “Here,” Will says hurriedly handing the items he brought back to Malcolm, “Jered was already there so I told him where to find you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Will turns to me and wraps his arms around me for a brief hug. “I’ve got to go. I've stayed too long as it is. Hang in there, Anna. Have faith that everything will work out for the best in the end.”

  Then he phases, leaving Malcolm and me alone.

  The quiet in the house is disturbing. The only sound is the howling of the cold, winter wind outside as it gusts past the ramshackle structure.

  Malcolm hands me the brown cloth wrapped package.

  “You'll find some clothes and shoes in there that should fit,” he says. “There’s also a baldric to keep your sword in. You wear it on your back to make carrying it easier.”

  I take the package from him, grateful to have some dry clothes to put on. Malcolm hands me my sword before turning his back to me to lean his cane against the wall by the fireplace. He then goes to pick up the wood he brought in earlier from off the floor. I watch as he walks over to the fireplace in the small living room we're in and begins to stack the wood into it.

  I get the feeling his actions aren't only to build a fire to chase away the cold but to give me a minute to put my new clothes on.

  I untie the string around the package and remove the fabric protecting what's inside. Within the folds of cloth, I find a white leather jacket and pants, white shirt, matching knee high boots, and something that looks like a sheath for my sword which I assume is the baldric.

  I drop the blanket and begin to put the clothes on. Once I have the pants and shirt on, I lift up the jacket and ask, “Is this a zipper?”

  Malcolm, still crouched by the fireplace, turns on the balls of his feet to face me.

  He begins to smile. “Yes, it's a zipper. I know it's a bit old fashioned, but it's what was used back in the day the outfit was made.”

  “How does it work, exactly?” I ask, wondering why anyone would find the metal teeth of a zipper safe to wear considering how prickly they feel.

  Malcolm rises from the floor in one fluid motion and walks over to me.

  He takes the jacket from my hands and holds it out for me to put on. I turn my back to him and slip my arms into the sleeves. Malcolm wraps his arms around me and holds the bottom front of the jacket together.

  “You have to slide this side of the zipper, which is called the pin, into this little box on the other side,” he says, his mouth right next to my ear, washing my senses with his warm breath. His attention is captured by his little demonstration, but mine is completely seized by him. “Then just pull up on the tab to zip the teeth together,” he tells me, going through the motions of closing the zipper and raising it up to just underneath my breast.

  I turn my head slightly to look at him. He hesitates but finally meets my gaze.

  “Did you mean what you said?” I ask, wanting to know the truth but also fearing what I might learn at the same time.

  “I always mean what I say,” Malcolm answers. “But what are you talking about in particular?”

  “That you wouldn't have taken the easy way out Levi offered you. And...that you needed me...”

  Malcolm studies my face for a moment before answering.

  “I had no intention of taking his offer. But, I'm not going to lie and say I didn't consider it for a moment there.”

  He was telling the truth even if it was hard to hear, and, quite honestly, I would rather have the truth from him than a lie to spare my feelings.

  “And the other thing?” I ask.

  Malcolm remains silent and just looks at me.

  “Like I said,” he finally replies in a whisper, “I always mean what I say.”

  Malcolm steps away from me and returns his attention back to the fireplace.

  “I wish I had some matches,” he grumbles as he stares at the dead pieces of wood.

  Then suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, he begins to laugh.

  “What's so funny?” I ask, unable to suppress a smile of my own because the joy in Malcolm's laughter is contagious.

  He shakes his head and turns back to look at me.

  “An old inside joke,” he tells me with a smile.

&nbs
p; “What's the joke?”

  Malcolm shakes his head resolutely. “You're far too young and innocent to know it yet.”

  It's only then that I remember something.

  “I turned twenty-one today,” I tell him. “I think that makes me old enough to be able to understand most things.”

  Malcolm's eyes narrow on me. “I completely forgot today was your birthday. I'm sorry it wasn't a happier one for you.”

  “It may not have started out very well,” I admit. “But...I have high hopes that it will end well.”

  The smile on Malcolm's face slowly dissolves as he stands in front of me then remains stock still, as if he's waiting for me to complete my thought.

  “How do you want it to end, Anna?” He finally murmurs.

  I swallow hard because my heart begins to race inside my chest. I have a feeling he knows exactly what I want. But, he wants me to declare it out loud. I'm not sure I feel quite brazen enough to say the words directly to him. A lady isn't supposed to tell a man about such sensual longings. Plus, I'm not quite sure he understands how deeply my desires run for him. I don't just want a kiss from him. I want all of him, heart, body, and soul. I desperately yearn for him to take me into his arms and make love to me until the sun kisses the horizon the next morning, and even after that, I'm not sure I'll want him to stop.

  I feel my lips part and the braver part of my soul pushes her way to the surface to voice what my heart and body desire the most and to tell him explicitly what I want from him.

  Deafening howls rip through the air around us, forcing me to cover my ears because their high pitch feels like needles piercing my eardrums. I realize it can't be the howl of just one creature but a multitude of them.

  As quickly as the sound came, it dissipates.

  “What was that?” I ask Malcolm, cautiously lowering my hands back to my sides but being on guard for them to sound again.

  Malcolm's face darkens.

  “Hellhounds,” he replies. “They've found us.”

  CHAPTER fifteen

  “What's a hellhound?” I ask, never having heard the term before. “Some sort of animal here on the surface? Like a wolf?”

  “They’re ten times the size of an ordinary wolf,” Malcolm says, absently rubbing his right leg. “But, they're not creatures of this world. They were made in Hell.”

  “Are we safe in here?” I ask, looking at the walls of the beach house and not finding a lot of comfort in their apparent thinness.

  “No,” Malcolm says, confirming my suspicion.

  “Then, what should we do?”

  “I say we stand and fight,” he answers. “Levi probably sent a lot of packs out to track us down which means he doesn't exactly know where we are yet. If he did, he would already be here.”

  “What's the best way to kill them?”

  “You have to separate their heads from their bodies. And, whatever you do, don't let them bite you.”

  “Why?” I ask apprehensively.

  “Just trust me,” Malcolm says walking over to the wolf headed cane Will brought which he propped next to the fireplace. “You don't want to get bit by one.”

  He lifts the cane in his hand, and I watch as he grabs the upper portion of it between the wolf’s head and the strange wing shaped silver protrusions. With one swift yank, I hear the metallic ring of a blade being released from its sheath. I have to admit I’m impressed with how Malcolm had his sword camouflaged. He was even able to fool the guards in Cirrus into allowing him to bring a weapon up there.

  I grab my sword off the couch and the blade instantly bursts into red-orange flames like it has a mind of its own and knows it's time for a fight.

  “It's been a while since I saw that sword in action,” Malcolm remarks. “Andre told me you were the best he’d ever seen with a blade. That’s high praise considering how much sword play we’ve seen in our lives.”

  “My father trained me well,” I say, not wanting to sound like I was boasting. I just want Malcolm to know I can handle myself in a fight without him feeling as though he needs to protect me, which would only serve to divide his attention.

  “Just don't let them bite you,” Malcolm warns again, like nothing else matters. “Their venom causes a pain worse than anything I wager you've ever felt before. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy...much less you.”

  My heart is warmed by his apparent concern for my safety. Before I can ask anything about our strategy in defeating the creatures outside, something crashes through the sliding glass doors and lands on the floor in between us.

  I've only seen pictures and videos of wolves, but this one seems unnaturally large to me with its head as high as my chest. Its white fur coat is fluffy and seems to be swaying in an imaginary wind because it doesn't match the tempo of the glacial gusts coming in from the outside. Its pristine white coat is surrounded by reddish-orange flames, but the fire seems to be only for show because it doesn’t give off any heat or seem to burn anything.

  The hellhound looks at Malcolm and snarls fiercely before whipping its head around to look at me. It blinks twice as it considers me with is large black eyes and gives a silent whine like it’s confused by me for some reason. There's an intelligence behind the hellhound's eyes but also a primordial viciousness that seems to overrule whatever sense of intelligence it might possess.

  Malcolm takes advantage of the animal’s momentary lapse of action and jumps onto its back, wrapping one arm around its neck to lift it up and slice its throat with one swift stroke of his blade. I would have expected blood to splatter everywhere, but it doesn't. The hellhound's body crumples to the floor beneath Malcolm and a black substance trickles out of its body from the open wound. The flames of its coat die down and all that's left is the sad remains of a creature who seemed to suffer from a torment of its own.

  Malcolm hops off of its back and tosses the hellhound's head into a corner of the room.

  I look at the shattered remains of the glass doors.

  “How many more do you think are out there?” I ask Malcolm.

  “From the sound of the howls earlier, I would say at least three more.”

  “Why aren't they coming in?”

  “I’m sure they sense the death of this one,” Malcolm says, looking at the corpse of the hellhound he just killed. “He was probably the runt of the liter and expendable to them. I think the others just used it to judge what they were up against with us.”

  “He was the runt?” I ask, wondering just how large hellhounds could get.

  A lopsided grin graces Malcolm's face. “The others will be bigger and smarter. In the end, they’re just animals. They might put up more of a fight, but we can kill them just as easily as this one.”

  I heft the hilt of my sword in my hands. “Then I think we should go on the offensive before they have time to strategize a plan.”

  Malcolm nods in agreement, and we walk to the broken glass doors together.

  As we reach the entrance, Malcolm holds up a hand to silently send me a signal to stop. He stands completely still, only tilting his head slightly like he's trying to listen to something. I briefly wonder what it is he hears until I hear it too. I look up towards the ceiling as tiny creaks and shuffles become evident, revealing the presence of something heavy walking on the roof of the structure right above our heads. If we had walked out onto the porch, the hellhound on the roof would have probably pounced on one or both of us. Malcolm grabs hold of my free hand and turns me around. We quietly make our way to the front of the house and the door there. Malcolm lets go of my hand and places his now free hand on the doorknob while keeping his grip on the slim sword with his other hand.

  “One,” he mouths to me but doesn't vocalize.

  I hold the blade of my sword up with both hands on the hilt while spreading my legs apart slightly to brace myself for an attack.

  “Two,” he mouths silently, his grip on the door handle tightening.

  He doesn't have to say 'three' because he simply opens the door
.

  A gust of cold wind rushes in but nothing jumps out of the darkness.

  Malcolm cautiously looks outside directing his gaze to either side of the entrance.

  He motions with his free hand for me to follow him outside.

  We make our way to the front exterior of the house. The only light to see by is the one given off by the moon which is a notch higher in the sky than it was earlier, marking the passage of time. Malcolm tilts his head to the left of the house, and we make our way to that side. Once we reach the corner of the building, we stand behind it together and Malcolm slowly peeks around the edge to see what's there. He holds up one finger to me. I assume it means he only sees one hellhound on that side of the house.

  If his assumption of there being three hellhounds surrounding the house is correct, that means we know where two of them are. It makes sense to think that the third one is on the other side of the house.

  Malcolm looks away from the hellhound and lightly taps the wall at our backs with his fist, making a slight noise that hopefully only attracts the nearest hellhound. It takes a minute, but the hellhound's head soon appears around the corner. Before it even has a chance to see us, Malcolm swings his sword down against its neck. The force of the blow is so fierce it completely decapitates the hellhound before it can release even a whisper of a whine.

  Apparently, it doesn't need to. Its death seems to be automatically sensed by the other two hellhounds. We soon hear the one on the roof run towards the front of the house, and the one on the other side of the house comes barreling around the opposite corner.

  Malcolm and I stand away from the protection of the wall and face the two hellhounds as they approach.

  “Do you feel confident you can take one on your own?” Malcolm asks.

  “Yes, I can take one.”

  “Good,” he says, keeping his eye on the one on the roof. “You take the one on the right, and I'll take that one.”

  “Works for me,” I tell him.

  Just before I begin to make my way to meet the hellhound I've been assigned, Malcolm says, “Anna....”

  I take a few precious seconds to meet his gaze and find concern in his eyes for me.