Savage Redemption: A Dark Urban Guardians Fantasy

by Anni Antoni

  “Positive,” I said, “but it’s nothing to get too worked up about.” I tried to make light of the situation. “Anyway, what’s next? Breakfast? Home? We can’t sit on this riverbank all day.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I have no idea. My brain stopped working with everything that’s happened. I suppose I should go home, attend to Gran, and see what damage has been done.” As if thinking aloud, her voice dropped. “If someone is trying to kill me, I should move. That means digging up the moving box.”

  Kat drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her head on her arms. “Or maybe I should stay, and face that murdering animal that killed Gran. That’s if he comes back.” She turned her head to face me. “Gran was murdered, wasn’t she?”

  “Probably,” I said. “There’s a lot we don’t know yet. You mentioned a moving box. What’s that?”

  “It’s a small tin box Gran put all our important things in, documents, addresses phone numbers. I never took the time to look. Whenever we moved, it came with us, and it was my job to hide it. Usually I buried it outside, just to humor Gran. She’d get more and more agitated until the job was complete.”

  “Perhaps there’s information in there to indicate who’d want to kill you. But can you face the police yet? They’ll be all over your house by now.”

  Deep pain filled Kat’s eyes. “No, I don’t want to face police. But I suppose I’ll have to, some time. I probably know most of them anyway, it’s only a small town.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to smooth over any difficulties. Ready to fly again?” I smiled at her. “We call it flashing.”

  Kat grimaced. “Yes please! Come on. Let’s get this over with!”

  Chapter 7.

  The Moving Box

  I flashed Kat to the end of her street and offered her my arm, then we walked casually to what was left of her home. As expected, police were everywhere.

  The house was a mess, a mere shell, the front of it open, demolished and most of the roof had gone. Six or seven men, some in police uniforms and some in white coveralls busied themselves inside the ruins.

  My bike, parked in front of the house, was a mass of twisted metal. I wouldn’t be riding it again. Oh well, no great loss. I’d had fun with it, but a replacement wouldn’t be difficult to get.

  A man in a police uniform came to meet us as we walked up the path.

  “You can’t come in here. This is the scene of an investigation,” he said, puffing his chest out, as though trying to look important.

  “The young lady lives here. Can you tell us what happened?” I replied.

  “Stay here, I’ll get the chief,” he said, turning back, walking over rubble to go into what had once been Kat’s home.

  I felt Kat shiver, and put my arm around her shoulders while we waited for the police chief to arrive.

  “Miss Spur?” The police chief waddled down the path, stepping daintily over debris.

  Kat nodded, and her shivering increased.

  “There’s been an explosion. I’m sorry to inform you your grandmother is deceased. We had her body removed and taken to the morgue.”

  I glanced down at Kat, whose face had gone pale, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. I decided it was time to take over.

  “I’m Joe, a friend of Kat’s. We met up for a run down by the river bank, early this morning. What happened here? What can you tell us?”

  The police chief eyed me up and down. Suspicion stamped on his features.

  “The explosion looks deliberate. We’re treating it as suspicious. That’s all I can say, at the moment.”

  “Surely you don’t suspect Kat. She must be free to leave and stay with friends. You can contact her by cell phone if you need to.”

  The police chief’s eyes glazed over, and he cleared his throat.

  “Miss Spur is not a suspect. She is free to stay with friends if she leaves a number where we can contact her.”

  “Of course, officer,” I said, writing a number on a piece of paper and handing it to him.

  As he walked away, Kat let out a sigh of relief. “Well, that was easy -- much easier than I thought it would be.”

  I winked at her and grinned.

  “What? You did that? How?” She grinned back at me through her tears.

  “Shhh!” I whispered to her. “Elementary mind control.”

  “You’re giving me ideas.” She whispered in reply, her eyes twinkling for a moment.

  I chuckled. “Now, now Kat.” I replied with a tone of mock disapproval. “Guardians are supposed to help people, not play games with them.”

  Kat attempted a smile.

  She led me around the back to a porch, where there was a box with a few garden tools inside. Rummaging around in it, she brought out a trowel.

  Kat then walked to a small patch of gravel, brushed the gravel aside with the trowel and started digging. Soon she had unearthed the tin box she had spoken about.

  “Let’s go before they impound this as evidence,” I said, tucking the box under my arm.

  “Should we tell the police we’re leaving?” Kat asked.

  “No need.” I grinned at her. “They won’t remember us.”

  She looked at me with wide-eyed wonder. “Did you…?”

  I nodded. “Advanced mind control,” I said. As much as I reasoned I was only trying to cheer her up, a part of me got a real kick out of showing off for her benefit.

  We flashed back to the riverbank with the moving box. Immediately Kat sat down on the grass and opened it.

  She ruffled through a few items on the top and groaned. “Oh, Gran…” She looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes. “This is what she thought was important, some of my old Batman comics, supermarket dockets and cake recipes. And she never baked cakes.” Tears flowed down her cheeks as she laughed at the contents of the box.

  “Keep searching,” I said. “There may be something important underneath all that stuff. She must have kept important stuff in there originally.”

  Kat upended the box on the grass. “Two old letters in brown envelopes. They might be important.”

  Kat put the letters in her jacket pocket and spread the contents of the box over the grass, smiling when she saw an old hand drawn birthday card, a childish drawing of a bird flying over a rainbow and the words ‘Happy Brethday Gran’ scrawled on the front in large letters.

  “I made this for Gran when I was six, before everything went to hell. I’m keeping it to remind me of happier times.” She folded it carefully and put it in her pocket with the letters. “Nothing else looks important.” She sighed and shook her head. “To think I’ve been digging this box of garbage up and burying it for years to keep Gran happy.”

  A strong sense of danger hit me. Like before the explosion, I could taste it. I stood up, scanning the horizon. Nothing was visible, nothing moved.

  A blast of air almost knocked me off my feet. I threw myself over Kat once more and flashed us to safety, as a hail of bullets ripped into me.

  A scream of “Die, demon spawn,” echoed through the darkness behind us. Worse, Kat felt limp in my arms. Had she been hit?

  The only place I knew where we’d be completely safe -- the place I’d just left, where I lived with my brothers, was my destination. I hung on to Kat tightly, fighting to stay conscious, as blood spurted out of my neck and ran in warm gushes down my chest.

  Chapter 8.

  Joe Arrives Home

  Everything happened at once. Joe flung himself on me – again. I should have been used to that, but this time he landed on me with such force he knocked the wind out of me. Then he grabbed me so tight I could hardly breathe, and I think I blacked out for a few moments.

  Before everything went dark, a male voice screamed, “Die, demon spawn,” with more hatred than I had ever heard in my life. Was all that venom directed at me?

  When I came to, we were rushing through nothingness, and something warm flowed over my shoulders and down my arms, soaking into my clothes and
dripping off my fingers. It smelled like blood. Horrified, I wanted to scream, but the rush of wind in my face made that impossible.

  The next thing I knew, we landed somewhere in a big open room and the warm smell of fried eggs and toast assaulted my nostrils. Joe landed on his feet for an instant, swayed, sat down and fell over backwards, taking me with him, one arm still gripping me tightly around the waist.

  I looked around the room from my position laying on top of Joe, on the floor. Thank goodness, I breathed a sigh of relief, as I focused on an upside-down view of Esau, standing with a group of other people, in stunned silence -- one familiar face, at least.

  Everyone came to life at once. Esau rushed to Joe’s side, knelt and put his hand on Joe’s neck. “Get Dr. Frank. Joe’s bleeding, bad,” he yelled to the others.

  Another young man knelt on our other side. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said and tried to get up, but couldn’t move from Joe’s grip.

  The young man attempted to move Joe’s arm from around my waist. Joe’s hold only tightened. “Look at that, he’s protecting her even when he’s unconscious,” he said.

  I turned my head to speak to Joe. That was twice today he’d saved my life. I hoped he wouldn’t need to do it again for a while, preferably never.

  “Relax Joe,” I whispered. “We’re safe now. Esau is here, and I'm not hurt.” His hold on me loosened, and I scrambled to my feet.

  Another man appeared in the room and headed straight for Esau and Joe, on the floor.

  He gave me a quick, appraising glance. “Are you hurt, young lady?”

  “No, not me, it's Joe,” I said.

  He knelt next to Esau. “Looks like he's been shot, several times,” said the man. I guessed this was Dr. Frank.

  “Looks like it. At least I’ve stopped the bleeding now,” said Esau, removing his hands from Joe's neck.

  The doctor looked from Esau to me, then back to Joe. “Looks like he's lost a lot of blood. No wonder he’s unconscious,” said the doctor. “Continue healing him and he should be fine. Later in the day I’ll come by and check on him. Meanwhile, I’ll send a nurse over to clean him up.”

  I glanced down at my clothes and did a double take. My pink tutu was red with blood, my top and jacket drenched. Even my arms and legs were covered in it.

  I held my arms out to the side, horrified to be covered in so much blood. Helplessly I looked around the room.

  A young woman came over. “Hi, I’m Claire,” she said. “I'm with Esau. Can I run a bath for you and get you a change of clothes?”

  “Yes, yes please,” I stammered. “But Joe, I don't want to leave him. Is he… is he hurt bad?

  The doctor turned and smiled. “No need to worry young lady. No one’s tougher than Joe, and he’s healing well. He’ll be out for an hour or more while his body regenerates. Plenty of time to have a bath and change, and it would be better for Joe if you’re cleaned up when he sees you next.” Raising an eyebrow, he chuckled. “If you appear before him like that, you’ll give him a heart attack, thinking he’s allowed you to be hurt, and we’d all be in trouble for not looking after you properly.”

  I gave a nervous giggle and turned to Claire. “Yes, I'd love a bath and something else to wear, thank you,” I said.

  Two young women approached.

  “I’m Liz and this is Emily,” said a blonde. “Come with us. We’ll soon have you fixed up.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I followed them, feeling lost and bewildered.

  The one called Claire spoke. “We’re so glad you brought Joe back to us. He said goodbye and left, and we thought we’d lost him. I hope you'll be staying for a while, preferably permanently.” Her eyes roamed over my face as if searching for an answer.

  “I have no idea,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I don't know what's happening.”

  “When Joe wakes, it will all be sorted out, I’m sure.” said Liz, frowning at Claire. “Don’t pressure the girl for answers when she’s obviously been through hell.”

  We came to a sudden stop. “Here’s a bathroom you can use,” she said., and started to go in ahead of me.

  Suddenly shy, I stammered. “Thank you. No need to help… I can run my own bath… Peering over her shoulder, I added, “or I might have a shower.”

  Claire smiled kindly at me. “Ok. There’s a clean bathrobe behind the door and an assortment of panties and basic sports bras in the chest of drawers on the far wall. Take your time, have a nice soak or shower. There's shampoo, conditioner, soap and all kinds of lotions. Whatever you like you should find in there, and when you come out, we’ll see what clothes you'd like. There's plenty here to choose from.”

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll wait for you in the room next to it.” She pointed to a nearby room. Through the open door, I noticed bedroom furniture.

  What was this place? It seemed to have everything. And these young women, were they Guardians too? Confusion threatened to overwhelm me, and I hoped Joe would wake up soon and tell me what was going on.

  I entered the vast bathroom -- bigger than some of the houses Gran and I had lived in. As Claire had said, there were plenty of things to choose from -- bath oils, bath salts, soaps, lotions – stuff I didn’t know how to use, things I'd never seen before, except in specialty shops, when I was tiny and we weren’t always moving.

  The first thing I did was to peel my wet, sticky clothes off and take the letters out of my jacket pocket, relieved they weren’t covered in blood, just a smear here and there. I placed them carefully on the floor and looked around the bathroom, spying a bathrobe with pockets, on a hook behind the door. The bathrobe was white and there was blood on my hands, so I washed my hands in the hand-basin, dried them, and transferred the letters to one of the bathrobe’s pockets. Only then was I ready to have my bath.

  I had my bath, washed all the blood off and shampooed my sticky, matted hair. I didn't know a human body had so much blood in it, but then again Joe wasn't human, was he? He was a Guardian, my Guardian, something I had to get used to.

  My life had taken a sharp turn from this morning when I set out on my usual run. Was I dreaming? Everything felt surreal.

  One thing I was sure of though, I could trust Joe. I shook my head. Trusting Joe was strange when I had been brought up to be suspicious of everyone, but it felt right. Dad and Gran had always stressed that I should trust my instincts when meeting strangers, and my instincts had no issue with Joe.

  After drying myself, I found the spare underwear, put on the bathrobe and walked into the next room where the three girls were chatting together, sitting on a large bed.

  “Ah, there you are. Feeling better now?” said the girl called Emily.

  “Yes, thank you, I am.” I said, attempting a smile. “It’s good to be clean again.”

  “Leave your old clothes in the bathroom, and we'll get Alwyn to wash them for you. Now,” she said, beaming at me. “A very important question, what sort of clothes do you like.”

  I didn’t know what to say and had to stop my mouth opening and closing like a fish. In the end, I just stared at them, feeling helpless, finally managing a shrug.

  The girl called Liz, blonde, pretty and curvaceous, spoke first.

  “I don't think my clothes would suit you,” she said. “As well as being too big, they’re all pastel colors and conservative looking. You need something with character, something dramatic.”

  “Perhaps you’d like some of my things,” said Claire. “I like bright colors, sequins, satins and velvet -- that sort of thing. Dramatic clothes and clothes with flair are what I go for.”

  I found my voice at last. “Well, I don't usually wear sparkles and shiny things, I wear a lot of black.” I said. “The pink tutu was the first clean thing I found this morning, it’s not my usual gear, although I used to learn dancing for a while.”

  “So did I.” Claire laughed, high-fiving me.

  “Sounds like you go for practical clot
hes, like me,” said Emily. Come upstairs to my rooms. You might like what I've got -- I go mainly for jeans, T-shirts and casual clothes. She led the way to an elevator, and we all followed.

  Up a couple floors, inside her huge bedroom, she opened a massive walk-in closet. As she said, there were jeans galore, and still more jeans as well as a corresponding number of T-shirts. I liked her T-shirts. They had pictures of super heroes on them and funny sayings.

  One set caught my eye -- a series of Batman T-shirts.

  “Oh, I like these,” I said. “I've always loved Batman. I used to read Batman comics when I was a kid.”

  “Take your pick, I have plenty.” said Emily.

  I picked a great T-shirt, black, with the yellow Batman logo on it. Then I noticed she had some leather pants. “Ooooh,” I said, practically drooling, my eyes open wide. “Do you have black leather pants cut like jeans?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she said, handing me a pair.

  We were a similar size. When I tried a pair on, they fit perfectly, and I beamed at her. “I’ve always wanted a pair of pants like these.”

  “Those pants and the batman T-shirt suit you,” said Liz.

  “Now all you need is a jacket,” said Emily. “And I’ve got the perfect one -- a leather jacket – in black.” She raised her eyebrows at me, waiting for my response.

  “Yes please,” I said, beaming. The girls were so easy to be with, the traumatic events I had been through took a back seat in my mind. I was completely caught up in the fun of choosing clothes.

  Soon I was all decked out in black leather jeans and jacket, the Batman T-shirt and my combat boots. My hair had already dried, and I just pushed it back with my fingers. It had a natural curl to it, so I knew it would look reasonable.

  I turned around, showing off my clothes. “What do you think?” I asked.

  Emily clapped her hands. “Wow, you look great.”

  “Yes, you found the right clothes, for sure,” said Claire, her eyes twinkling.

  Liz nodded her agreement. “Kind of Gothic. It suits you,” she said.