Guardians of Magic: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (Guardians of the Fae Book 1)

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  “Yes, that’s all,” he replies, his voice crackling. “We talked work.”

  The light turns green again, and nobody says anything for another block until Mom laughs in that way she does when she’s not happy but is laughing because she’s angry. “I don’t believe you.”

  Dad hisses, his knuckles popping as he squeezes the steering wheel. “Anne, for fuck’s sake!”

  This isn’t my mom and dad. They’ve never yelled like this and rarely cursed in front of us. We don’t even watch movies with cursing.

  Mom, though, doesn’t seem to care about the foul language. “You lied before and you’ll lie again. That’s all you are . . . a damned liar.”

  There’s a silence, and even Alyssa stops giggling as I swallow my fear. Dad fumes, his hands twisting and kneading the steering wheel as two songs play on the radio until after the next green light, when he explodes. “You know what, Anne? I’m sick of your damn complaining!” His voice is filled with toxic venom. “I do every damned thing possible . . . and it’s never enough.”

  Mom screeches, turning to him in utter outrage. “You mean like fucking your slut divorcee of a co-worker every day? Yeah, I guess you do a lot.”

  “Mommy, Daddy, please!” I plead, tears threatening as Alyssa starts crying. “Stop!”

  It’s terrifying. I swear I can see something twisting my parents’ features as Dad glares at Mom, his eyes almost glowing. “Well, how about this? You’re a fucking frozen-cunt bitch, Anne, and I should have never fucking married you!”

  Mom sneers, her lips spraying spittle across the car to hit Dad in the face. “You shouldn’t have. Then I wouldn’t have to fantasize about other men while tolerating your limp dick!”

  Dad slams his fist into the steering wheel, a long honk ripping out as he turns to her. “You ungrateful bitch!”

  Dad suddenly rips his hands from the steering wheel and reaches for Mom, trying to grab her.

  “Daddy, stop it!” I scream as Alyssa’s cries turn into horrified shrieks.

  There’s a horrible screeching sound and a crunch of metal. Then everything goes black.

  Tears roll down my face at the horrible memory. After the crash, I didn’t remember much. My memories basically consist of constant tears and fragments of the days that seemed to pass in a grey-like stupor.

  It was crazy how the argument started. One minute, it was sunshine and rainbows, and the next, it was blood and hellfire.

  To this day, I don’t know what came over the two. It was almost as if they were . . . possessed. And while the memories still come back from time to time, I’m glad Alyssa has blocked them out. She remembers getting in the car, she says, and then waking up in the hospital. She still remembers the good times only . . . which I guess helped during the years afterward.

  She still had those memories to hang onto during our time in the orphanage. Understaffed and underfunded in a time when there wasn’t enough of anything for anyone, the Haven Children’s Home might as well have been The Lord of the Flies. Gangs would beat you, take what little stuff you managed to get, and more.

  We should have been split up, a ten-year-old with a four-year-old. But Alyssa was so traumatized, the only way she’d not scream at night was if I slept with her, and after awhile, it became accepted. I had to fight, but we made it. Still, I’m glad she has the good memories to go along with what we went through.

  I reach the Heights and turn off the main road, down a poorly maintained, formerly tree-lined lane. Up ahead is a large mansion, the gate already open. I pull through and get out, looking up at it. Built over a hundred and twenty-five years ago, it’s tall, Neo-Victorian, and dilapidated.

  Still, it feels . . . powerful. Like something is using the broken-down exterior as mere camouflage and inside is something stronger than I’ve ever encountered before.

  And that something seems to be calling to me.

  Shivering, I go around to the trunk of my car, opening it and taking out my gear.

  “Time to go to work.”

  Chapter 8

  Eve

  Walking up to the doors of the mansion, I feel goosebumps form on my forearms that run down my spine. Patting the stock on my high-powered Heckler & Koch UV/silver over-under for comfort, I look up at the great shuttered windows, which look like droopy, malevolent eyes, especially with one of them half busted out. Adjusting my Kevlar neck band, I walk up the steps, wincing as two of them creak.

  For form’s sake, I knock on the front door, even though it’s boarded over. It doesn’t have a condemned sign on it, but that’s simply because the county zoning office generally doesn’t give a fuck about buildings on the wrong side of the New Haven bridge.

  “Hello? Haven Police. Is anyone home?”

  Of course, there’s no answer, but before I go inside, I hesitate, wondering if I should just call for backup. I know that if this place is connected with vamps, they’ll be asleep or in hiding. And if I wait for backup, I’ll lose time, but more importantly, if I get overruled, the vamps will smell me and abandon this place. Their noses are . . . acute.

  I should be fine. I have daylight on my side. And maybe I’ll find a couple more bodies that can pin the crimes on the specific vamps I’m looking for. Even a name, if I’m lucky.

  Still, as I lower my shoulder to the door, I can’t help but feel like I’m being drawn into the house. I pop the door and bring my weapon up and turn on the light connected to it, helping with the dim interior. Automatically, my training kicks in and I get worried. While the mansion might be pretty messed up, the walls and windows are intact enough that the first floor is bathed in thick shadows that seem to swallow my twelve-bulb LED like it’s nothing. Even just casting it across the foyer, it feels like the light doesn’t so much disperse as get muted.

  “Hello? Detective Eve Carter, NHPD,” I call out. “If you’re here, show yourself before there’s a problem.”

  At least my gun gives me some comfort. German engineering at its finest, the UV laser will help me against any vamp, while the forty-round silver-tipped armor-piercing rounds will cause anything else in the house to reconsider their retirement plans very quickly too.

  The floors creak as I make my way down the right hallway, the hardwood underneath the worn carpet screeching about every third or fourth step. I can’t seem to avoid it. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to avoid the squeaking noise. Each one still makes my heart jump a little more, though, so that by the time I reach what appears to have been the library, I’m panting.

  Nothing. I clear the room before noticing that the walls are still partially lined with books. The chaos of the Para Wars didn’t totally destroy what’s here, and from what I can see, whoever lived here last had quite the collection.

  I glance at the covers of what I can see, unable to read anything. It’s all in foreign languages, but what I do see sends even more chills down my spine. One of the books lies open to a page filled with illustrations of torture, of Biblical demons cavorting around a naked woman, one of them with a huge, veiny cock ready to tear her open.

  I turn away in disgust, still shivering as the sense of dread fills me even more. I leave the library, keeping my eyes open for anything, bodies or vampires, something I can either gather clues from or interrogate.

  But nothing lives here. I can’t even hear the buzz of insects, which is strange. Places like this should be filled with mice, bugs, and other shit like that . . . but there’s nothing but silence except for the sound I’m making.

  Still, as I leave the library and head toward the back of the mansion, I swear something is watching me, observing my every step. The feeling grows as I penetrate further inside, checking every room but finding nothing but dust.

  I know what procedure would call for. Retreat, get on the radio, get on the horn with Joe or with Central Dispatch, and get some backup units here. But I keep going, cold sweat trickling down my forehead to sting my left eye as I keep my weapon up, safety off, ready to perforate anything that comes my way.
I don’t know why, but something inside is calling to me, subtly telling me that I need to keep going.

  Suddenly, the hallway ends and I emerge into what I can only describe as a great room. At least three floors tall, every crevice of the huge octagonal space is nearly pitch-black except for a blindingly white light that stabs down to the middle of the room, illuminating a small stone circle.

  I don’t want to step into the light, but the darkness around me is so thick I swear my flashlight doesn’t do anything, and I’m worried that if there is something in here, I won’t see it coming.

  Sweat drips down my face with every step toward the light, but I’m colder than ever when I step inside, trying to sweep the room. The dark almost presses in on me from all sides, just wider than my shoulders, and almost pulses as if it’s breathing.

  “What the—”

  I’ve waited so long for you to come, young one.

  Okay, that’s it. I’ve officially gone from nervous to paranoid to over the fucking edge. “No way. Houses don’t talk to people. Not happening.”

  The darkness seems to chuckle, as if my objection is not worth its time to refute. You are the chosen one, the one we’ve been waiting for, the one who will bring about darkness for eternity.

  “We?” I ask, still swinging my gun around and flipping the fire selection button from semi to full auto. “What are you talking about?”

  Your birth has been foretold in our realm for millennia, the one who could empower us to overcome the forces of light. And now you are here. Because of you, so many dark things have happened. So many deliciously dark, evil things.

  “You’re full of shit!” I call out.

  The car crash that killed your parents. Their screams are music to our ears . . . and those lost in the conflict afterward. So sweet to savor their pain, the pain you caused.

  “I wasn’t even a teenager when the war started!”

  The voice doesn’t seem to care how old I was when the Para Wars began but instead decides to suddenly change course on its conversation. He’s coming for you. He will have you.

  That, at least, I can deal with, and I pop a three-shot burst into the darkness. “Anyone who wants to try and have me had better have some big balls, because I won’t go down without a fight.”

  Enough’s enough, and I try to step out of the circle of light, but I can’t. Instead, tendrils of darkness grab me like hands and lift me into the air. I try to fire my weapon but it’s ripped from my hands and sent flying into the surrounding blackness. I struggle against the grip but it’s both smoke and iron. I can’t touch it but at the same time, it has the grip of death itself.

  You need convincing.

  Suddenly, a tendril wraps around my neck like a wire and starts to squeeze, cutting off my breath. Fiery pain comes with it, and I swear that somehow, the darkness is cutting my very skin even as the air is slowly cut off from my lungs.

  Submit.

  “Fuck you!” I hiss, barely able to get it out before my breath is totally taken away. The voice chuckles, amused.

  You shouldn’t have come here. Soon, the world shall be ours.

  Let me go! I scream in my mind, kicking my legs. I can’t breathe, and the darkness seems to be inside my eyeballs now, the world dimming. My lungs fill with more fire, about to burst as the darkness draws me up higher, higher into the circle of light that’s entrapping me.

  NO!

  Something inside me cries out, and a surge jolts my limbs. The voice seems to recoil and the darkness lets go, a rush of air filling my lungs as I plummet to the floor, so surprised I don’t even have time to scream as I drop to the stone.

  I cry out as my ankle twists and I roll. I can see my weapon lying on the floor, and I snatch it up, raising it . . .

  Right into the face of a golden-eyed wolf, its fangs bared and a growl rippling in its throat.

  I scream, rolling and squeezing my trigger, but nothing happens. With a curse, I realize I have the gun set on UV. The drop must have changed the settings. Flipping my fire selector, I fire another shot, but the wolf dodges, and I hear another growl . . . deeper and from behind me.

  I spin, just in time to avoid a paw from a massive bear. I roll again but see another animal. I’m surrounded. Above me, I hear a scream and look up at . . . a bird?

  There’s too many, but maybe I can take a couple with me. I aim at the bear, but the bird drops, the wing hitting my barrel and sending my weapon clattering to my feet.

  shifters. I thought I was dealing with vamps, and it’s shifters instead? Powerful ones too, from the looks of it. I raise my hands, growling. “Fine . . . but I’m taking one of you with me.”

  It’s just bragging. We all know it’s over. The three shifters with legs back me against the wall, and I prepare for the end. They’re gonna tear me limb from limb.

  Suddenly, a bright flash temporarily blinds me, and I hear the sound of popping bones. A voice chuckles, and I open my eyes.

  It’s the handsome warriors. And if I wasn’t so rattled, I might actually appreciate them standing gloriously naked before me, their chiseled bodies on display, the dark-haired one, Cole, with an amused smile on his face.

  “Well, Halfling,” says Cole as the big one takes off a backpack and starts passing out clothes. Cole doesn’t move, instead pinning me to the wall with the twinkle in his eyes and the seemingly blindingly bright flash of white teeth. “We meet again.”

  Chapter 9

  Eve

  “What the hell are you four doing here? This is supposed to be a vamp place, not a shifter den.”

  The big man chuckles, looking around at the room. “If you think this . . . room is merely a vampire assemblage, then you are far less prepared for the forces you claim to be fighting than you think you are. I thought you’d be more trained for a Halfling.”

  “Halfling?” I gasp, gulping in air as I rub my throat, which feels like it’s on fire. I’m still trying to get over what just happened, and my brain feels like I’m half-drunk or something. The world’s moving so disjointedly. It was the most surreal, intensely terrifying experience of my life. The darkness spoke to me, lifting me in the air and choking me . . . and those awful things it said to me. How could it have known about what happened to my parents?

  I thought I knew fear before . . . but I didn’t. Comparing the fear I felt before now to the experience in the darkness is like licking a nine-volt battery and saying you know what it’s like to be hit by lightning.

  The rational part of my mind, the part of me that says that hey, vampires are one thing but being yanked in the air by black smoke is just fucking impossible, wants to say that I hallucinated it all, that all this is just a symptom of too much stress and overwork.

  “Did I imagine the whole thing?” I stammer, lowering my weapon. “Was it real? It felt real.”

  Even though the four hunks are nearby, I look around, thinking that smothering presence might still be lurking about. The darkness is still here, but it seems different now, my flashlight stabbing a clear beam through what seems like normal shadows. But I thought that before, and the darkness could be hiding anywhere.

  “Don’t worry,” Cole says reassuringly. “The demon spirit has fled.”

  “Demon?” I ask. If there’s such a thing, I haven’t heard of it . . . except the ones in our own minds. Then again, when I was born, everyone thought there was no such thing as vampires either.

  “The house was possessed,” Cole explains, going to the stone circle in the middle of the floor. Grimacing, he lifts a foot and stomps down, shattering the stone tile. “It seems this place has been prepared for a long time.”

  I shake my head, waiting as the men finish covering their bodies in clothes that . . . well, at least they’re dressed. At least temporarily, I’m not being distracted by the sight of four thick, perfect cocks hanging in front of me. I’ve got enough issues to think about. “How can a house be possessed?”

  And what kind of lead is this place? I think to myself. This case was
supposed to be about human trafficking and vamps . . . but I feel like I’m stepping deeper and deeper through more layers than ever.

  Cole nods, his eyes looking amused, his voice serious and composed as he looks my neck over, checking for injuries. “Noah is correct, Detective Eve Carter. For one who is supposed to be well-versed in the supernatural, you know little.”

  “I said was a Para Justice cop,” I snort, noting to myself that at least I know three of their names. Cole, Noah, and Jacob. The other one, I gotta draw out somehow. “I never said I was Sam or Dean Winchester with tits. Mind explaining to me what you mean?”

  Cole looks at Jacob, who snickers. “Must I always play translator for you? It’s an old TV show.” Sighing as Cole still looks clueless, he continues. “Demons have the ability to possess inanimate objects. This one was so powerful that its consciousness was able to permeate the entire house. Although it looks like it was helped by someone on this side of the divide. Cole broke the seal though.”

  My skin pricks as I remember the presence. “It knew things about me,” I say. “Things I’ve never told anyone.”

  The one with the bow speaks up for the first time, and his voice is warm, like someone I could share hot chocolate with and feel safe and comfortable. “That’s what demons do. They scour your memories for weaknesses. Without knowing the proper defenses, anyone is vulnerable. The demons’ greatest weapon is feeding on your fear and anguish. It’s both nourishment and a weapon for them.”

  I step forward, looking into his eyes. “You speak from experience.”

  He turns away, and Cole speaks up. “We all do, although Tyler’s was . . . more traumatic than most.” He shakes his head, tucking in his overly tight T-shirt. “We showed up just in time. Who knows what would have happened had it had its way with you.”

  “Which begs the question, why are you following me?” I ask. “Not that I don’t appreciate the backup. You four aren’t cops. You aren’t Feds. You’re all Paras of some type, but you seem more than your average shifter. What are you doing here?”