Vigilante: A Guard's Tale From Ana's Perspective
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Donner cursed and wrenched Ana into the cold night air, which hit her naked, raw skin with silent brutality. Standing over her, he drew the bone knife and looked up at his other companions, a hooded, broad-shouldered man in a long black cloak, and a sharp-faced, silver-haired man in a trench coat. Then all of them looked back toward the hovel, where flames were now shooting up through the tangled weave of branches and No-Eye’s screams had grown piercing and agonized. None of them made a move to help or rescue him; they simply watched as the hovel burned.
The moment No-Eye fell silent, Donner dropped to his knees over Ana and grabbed a handful of her hair, wrapping thick black locks around his fist. “I should kill you right now for ruining my home,” he said in her ear, pressing her face to the rocky sand. “But you’re worth too much.”
He stood up and dragged her to her feet, holding her away from his body in an unforgiving grip. “Which of you would like to break her in?”
The sharp-faced man stepped forward, but the hooded man put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should just take her and go, Peter,” he said in an accent that reminded her a little of Malachi’s, but was harder edged. German, maybe. “This fire will attract the gangs.”
Peter shrugged off his hooded companion and grinned at Donner. “Sascha here is a coward,” he said. “And the girl deserves to be punished for what she did to Eric.” He didn’t look that upset about his dead friend, though. In fact, he looked kind of happy about it.
Sascha, his face still in shadow, stepped up next to Peter and put a restraining hand on his arm. “I’m telling you, it’s best if we put this off.”
Peter pivoted on his heel with startling speed and shoved Sascha with both hands, sending him stumbling back. Sascha’s feet hit a low boulder and he tumbled backward over the rocks. Chuckling, Peter turned back to Donner. “Hold her down. Over that boulder.”
Donner grinned and obliged, hauling Ana by the hair, keeping her off balance and unable to kick, her arms still bound in front of her. She hadn’t felt this helpless in a long time, so unable to fight back. Donner pushed her against a waist-high boulder and grabbed the rope dangling from her wrists. He edged to the other side of the rock and stretched the rope over the top so she was bent over it, her toes skimming the ground. She kicked out viciously as Peter came near, striking him in the thigh, but he laughed and crushed himself against her back, using the belt around her waist to hold her still.
Ana’s thoughts splintered, poking at all the soft spots in her mind, but she fought back, unwilling to give up and let them win, unwilling to—
Peter gasped. And then he fell to the side, landing hard in the sand next to the boulder. Ana raised her head. Still holding the rope that bound her hands, Donner gaped as he looked at something behind Ana. “No—no—”
The first arrow struck him in the neck, right above the dip in his leather breastplate.
The second struck him in the eye.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ana didn’t wait for Donner to hit the ground before she whirled around. Sascha stood several feet away, still holding the crossbow he’d used to take down the two other men. He knocked his hood away from his face. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” She was breathing so hard she could barely get the words out, but not so hard she couldn’t leap toward Donner. Toward the bone knife he’d stashed in his belt.
Sascha watched her warily but lowered his crossbow. “I have no intention of hurting you, fräulein.”
“My name’s Ana.” She wrenched the knife from Donner’s waist and pointed the tip at his unmoving body. “And that’s what he said, too.”
Sascha pulled aside his cloak, revealing the leather Guard armor she knew so well. “I’m a Guard. I’m here to protect those who need it”—his gaze swept over the men he’d just killed—“from those who don’t.”
Ana flipped the knife in her palm so she could start to saw her way out of the hemp ropes binding her wrists and arms. “Yeah, like I told you. That’s what he said.”
Sascha let out a disgusted grunt. “But he was lying.”
Ana raised an eyebrow, and Sascha’s mouth became a tight gray line. “He killed one of my colleagues. Ambushed him while he was helping a wounded old man,” he said, his voice hardened with anger. “I’d been hunting Donner for days, but I found Eric and Peter first. They are fairly successful traders in this section of the Wasteland. Alliances here are quickly made and quickly broken, and Peter and Eric were happy to have a strong volunteer who would lug their goods.” He pointed at a spot near the smoking hovel, at a huge pile of sacks, some dripping black-red liquid. “I’m sure they were planning to kill me as soon as I asked for payment.”
“They didn’t know you were a Guard?”
Sascha shook his head. “We usually watch from a distance. We do not often interact with the inhabitants. Unless it is to terminate them. Anyway, tonight Donner came to us, telling us he had something very special to sell.”
“I am, indeed, very special,” she said, keeping her eye on Sascha as she worked the blade back and forth along the coarse rope. Her flesh was screaming, and blood oozed lazily from beneath the hemp, leaving black dots on the sand at her feet. Her pain must have showed on her face, because he gave her a sympathetic look.
“I could help you with that,” he said. “It would go a lot faster.”
Ana sighed and gave him a head-to-toe appraisal. His hands were huge, and he was solidly built. Taller than Malachi or Takeshi. And wider. Probably very strong. Maybe not as fast. His face was craggy, homely, but his pale-gray eyes hinted at a gentleness that surprised her. He’d saved her from being raped and had killed her attackers.
He might have just wanted her for himself, though. “I’ve almost got it,” she said. “You can, um, go now.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “You haven’t been here for very long, have you? You wouldn’t say that if you had.”
The ropes slackened as she cut all the way through. Ana squirmed and twisted, finally freeing one of her arms with a hard tug that drew an involuntary moan of pain from her throat. Sascha took a quick step toward her, but she cocked her arm, knife raised, and shook her head. “Listen, Sascha. Now is not the time to get too close, got it?”
He tilted his head. “You know how to use that?”
“That would be putting it mildly. Take a step back.”
He did. With his eyes glued to hers, he slowly set his crossbow on a nearby rock and raised his hands, showing her he was unarmed. “How did you come to be here? You don’t look like anyone I’ve ever come across in the Wasteland, and I have been here for a very long time.”
“If you’re really a Guard, tell me who made your armor.”
He gave her a questioning look. “A very fat man with a very foul mouth.”
She smiled. “Michael. He’s all talk, you know.”
Sascha’s mouth dropped open. “You are a—”
“Yeah. I was. In the dark city.”
“The what?”
“It’s another place where souls go to work their stuff out.” She met his eyes. “For the ones who commit suicide. I was a Guard there for a few decades. Then I—” Her mouth twisted around the words. “Then I was retired.”
His eyes narrowed. “You were killed.” His jaw clenched when he saw her nod. “Only the one time?”
“Well, apart from the first time, yeah.”
“And you were released? Just like that?”
“Well, I did spend several decades there.”
The tension in his jawline relaxed, but only slightly. “I’ve been here for over two hundred years,” he said quietly. “And I have died sixteen times, or so I have been informed. But every time, the Judge sends me back here.”
She stared at him, her heart knocking against her ribs. If he was telling the truth, that meant only one thing—during his life on Earth, he had been a very bad man. “Nothing’s ever changed for you?” He’d had a few centuries to develop a conscience, so …
Ana’s gaze rested on the defeated slope of his shoulders while she let the mournful sound of his voice sink in. He might be a very bad man, but he was definitely a real Guard, and she was willing to bet he had changed over the years, enough to feel hurt over whomever he had lost. She was certain that was it. He had gotten attached to someone here, and he had lost that person. There could be no other explanation for the stark heartbreak in his eyes a moment ago. “Just let me grab some boots.”
He pulled the crossbow bolts from the bodies of Peter and Donner while she stole Peter’s boots and strapped them to her feet. She also stripped Peter of his trench coat, because shivers were now rolling up and down her body, rattling her bones. She sheathed the bone knife at her hip, pulled the coat around her, and nodded at Sascha, who had strapped the crossbow at his side, concealing it beneath his black cloak. He motioned to her and led her away from the camp.
His steps were nearly silent as they hiked, their breath puffing out in clouds in front of them. Ana’s feet screamed with every step, and the raw skin on her arms throbbed hot, but not enough to keep her warm. This was no good. How could she help Takeshi when she was falling apart?
They reached the sheer cliff face at one edge of the canyon. “We have to climb,” Sascha said, “but it is not far.”
She was too tired to say anything. With her head buzzing, she followed the steady clomp of his boots, placing her feet in the same crags and outcroppings, until they finally reached a level patch of rock. “This is easily defensible,” he commented, then pointed to a narrow opening in the cliff wall. “And there is no room for more than one person to enter at a time.”
She nodded, vaguely noticing that she was moments from passing out. “Hey, um …”
He caught her as she swayed and nearly tumbled backward over the ledge. His arms around her were firm, but not greedy, not hungry. Secure. Protective. “Ana, I’m going to keep you safe while you rest, and I will tend your wounds. And when you are better, you will tell me how you came to be here. All right?”
Her head lolled back as her body began to give up the fight. “Raphael?” If this guy was a Guard, maybe he could summon Raphael to heal her.
His brows drew together. “Who is Raphael?”
“Never mind.” Guards around here didn’t get healed, apparently. They didn’t get properly equipped. They got the bare minimum and were left to roam in search of their lost humanity. Raphael was a stranger in these parts. Which meant she was stuck with Sascha because … well, because she couldn’t take another step, and she definitely couldn’t fight.
As the darkness closed in on her, she focused her entire being on only one thing: The reason she had come here. The reason she would get through this. The reason she would not give up …
Her bare feet skimmed along the stone floor, carrying her down the long hallway. Past the food room. Past the holding cells. Past Malachi’s door. It was so late that only the Guards who had been assigned night watch were up, and they were all lounging at the front entrance, playing a card game so complex that Ana had given up learning it ages ago. That wasn’t why she was up, anyway.
She shouldn’t be up at all.
But she couldn’t stop herself, not after Takeshi’s words this afternoon. This weird, coiled tension had been sitting in her belly for hours now, making it impossible for her to relax. He was going to leave for the southern quarter in the morning. He was going to leave. Again.
With jittery breaths and a shaking hand, she knocked at his door.
“Who is it?” His voice was alert, only slightly fogged with sleep.
“It’s Ana,” she said, but it only came out as an airy whisper.
The door swung open. His hair was disheveled, messy black spikes sticking up every which way. He clutched a sheet around his waist, and it stood out white against his honey-colored skin. Ana bit her lip as she stared at his chest, then ventured a glance at his face, which was a mask of shock. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed … Can I come in?”
His brow furrowed, but he opened the door wider, and she ducked under his arm and walked into his quarters. His satchel and weapons were propped against the wall. She wondered if he’d even unpacked between long patrols. He shut the door and leaned against it, his fist closed tightly around the sheet at his waist. “What do you need, Ana? It’s very late.”
“What did you mean when you said I’d always have the upper hand?”
Takeshi closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Tell me what you meant.” She took a few steps closer to him, looking for any signal, any hint of what was going on in his head.
He muttered something in Japanese as his lips formed a rueful smile. “Your persistence is extremely inconvenient.”
“Tell me.”
He opened his eyes but did not look at her. “I’m thinking of moving my quarters to the southern outpost. At least until we find this nest. Malachi will be the commanding officer in my absence.”
She’d moved close enough that the tips of her toes were nearly touching his. “No.”
He glanced up at her in surprise. “No? You think you should be the commanding officer?”
She shook her head, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “No. I meant I don’t want you to go.” Her mouth clamped shut, but then it occurred to her that this was exactly what she’d come here to say. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him here. With her.
His fathomless brown eyes searched her face. “Why?”
Ana’s hand moved with the same deliberate, smooth motion she used when she threw a knife. Her fingers skimmed from his bare stomach to his chest, sliding up his warm, golden-hued skin. His body trembled, muscles taut. He caught her hand and pulled it away from him, but didn’t let it go. “Don’t do that, Ana. I can’t—”
She took the final step and struck. But this time, it wasn’t with her fists. She found her target instantly, not with a violent impact, but with the softest touch of her mouth to his. The brush of her lips affected him more than any punch ever had. He groaned and slid his arm around her waist, crushing her against him. Every nerve ending in her body lit up as he surrendered, and then sizzled and flashed as he turned the tables. With an urgency that almost frightened her, he picked her up and carried her to his cot while he kissed his way down her throat. She threaded her fingers through his hair, amazed at the sensation of touching him like this, and realized she had been starving for it. For years. All that heat, all that tension, all those battles … it had been building up to this. This was what she had needed. It had taken her so long to figure it out. Too long.
She lifted her arms as he pulled at her shirt, allowing him to strip it off. He stared down at her for a moment, his expression hazed, like he was in a trance. And then he blinked, and his hand curled around the edge of the cot as if he was bracing himself. “I’ve been waiting years for you to come to me … If you don’t want this, you have to tell me to stop. Now.”
“No.”
His eyes met hers. “I know you’ve been hurt.”
She put her hand on his chest, over his thundering heart. “And I know you won’t hurt me.” In her fifteen years as a Guard, Takeshi had never hurt her. Not once. He had earned her trust with every moment they’d spent together.
His gaze traveled slowly over her body until it reached her face again, until the hunger transformed into something more powerful, more profound. He lowered his head and kissed her, gentle and sweet, but with a hard edge, like he was
holding back. “What else do you know?”
“I … don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, awed by the power of her feelings for him, and the sheer force of his.
He shuddered softly as they met chest to chest, skin to skin, sending a tremor all the way down to her toes. “Yes, you do,” he said against her ear. “It’s why you’re here, so don’t hide from it now. Say it. Say what you know.”
His fingers stroked along her cheek and pulled her face up to his. And in his eyes, she saw a truth that had been there for a very long time, one she’d been too caught up in fighting to see clearly until now. “You love me.”
He nodded. “I love you. More than I can bear sometimes.”
“That’s why you were planning to leave.”
“Yes.”
“And if I ask you to stay?”
He smiled, hypnotizing her with the graceful curve of his mouth. “Like I said, you will always have the upper hand, Ana.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Why?”
She turned her head as a tear streaked along the side of her face. He stopped it with his lips, kissing it away. She looked up at him, a warm wonder filling her chest, smoothing over the scar tissue and all the tattered edges. “Because I love you, too.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Her eyes flew open. No. She was tied up again. How could she have been so—
She looked down at herself. She was lying on a neat pallet of fabric stuffed with something dry and grassy smelling. And she wasn’t tied up. She was bandaged. From elbows to wrists, her arms were wrapped in a coarse burlap material, and beneath that had been spread some sort of ointment.