by Of Night
“Hurry, Richelle, hurry!”
“But, Momma, I don’t wanna go.”
Eight-year-old Richelle Sommers held tightly onto her mother’s hand as she was pulled through the streets of a northwest suburb of Detroit. It was early, the morning stars just starting to fade from the evening sky. There were no people on the streets, just the faint sounds of a nearby freeway with the few nighttime travelers that were speeding along.
“Richelle, please, we need to get away from here as fast as we can.” Her voice was unsympathetic to her daughter’s plea, but rather held a quiet resolve.
“Why, Momma? Why do we have to leave?” Richelle wailed, crying softly. Part of her understood the urgency to escape. But she was still a child, unable to cope with the upheaval or the pain of leaving everything behind.
“They’ve come back, baby. We have to get away before they find us,” she cooed as she gripped her daughter’s hand tighter and brought it to her waist in a reassuring gesture. She continued hurrying down the street and had turned the corner when a tall figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking the sidewalk between Adelaide and her car. She stopped short, shielding Richelle with her body as she took two steps back. She quickly turned on her heels and went in the opposite direction, but another figure, slightly taller, stepped out from behind a row of tall hedges.
She stopped short again as her heart, on the verge of exploding, began to pound in her chest. She looked back to see the first figure walking toward them, his heels clicking on the sidewalk like a time bomb. She turned to see the other figure stalking toward them, trapping Richelle and herself between the two of them. She quickly scanned her surroundings, looking for a means of escape. She grabbed Richelle’s hand and ran across the street. As she reached the sidewalk, he stepped out from the shadows.
His ghostly white skin all but shone under the dimming streetlight. His sunk in at his cheeks, made his eyes protrude, bulging from their sockets and shooting daggers at her. His scraggly green-gray hair stuck out from under the brim of his minister’s hat. He smiled at her, his crooked teeth stained yellow with age. He looked ancient and decrepit. She had no idea how old he was, but her family had been running from him for nearly thirty years.
She felt a chilling tingle in her spine as he spoke.
“I’ve come for her.”
* * * *
Valya opened his mind to the city. Dawn was approaching, and he needed to know. He had felt an impending sense of doom since rising with the moon. He could feel destiny calling to him, drawing him into the night. The oppressive smell of death permeated the air and surrounded him. He couldn’t pinpoint where the danger was coming from, but he could feel that there was no escaping it.
Fate had chosen a thread from the tapestry of life.
There would be a death tonight.
Up till now, it had not happened. But it was near.
He opened his mind to the night, absorbing the sounds, the smells, the sight into his dark soul. He had walked the Earth for several hundred years. He had seen many things, and had done much evil. He was known as The Guardian, a hunter seeking out those who preyed on the suffering of others to feed the dark hunger devouring their spirit. Each rendered judgment was another stain on his soul, stripping the color from his world.
Without color, all he could see was the black and white in the world around him. There was good and evil, right and wrong, black and white. Compassion had slowly seeped from his body and faded away as the hues of the spectrum faded from his vision. There was no compassion, no sympathy, no empathy, no…love. He had searched for a hundred years, longing to find his life mate. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait for her. He could already feel the pull toward the darkness.
He could hear the voices of the others who had gone before him. The Destroyers. He could hear them whisper on the night wind to forsake his search and join them. He listened to the voices as they tried to entice him from the light. He listened to their persuasive arguments and the promise of power and wealth. He had followed the whispers, finding The Destroyers and ending their misery.
Yet there was another voice in the night, calling to him and beckoning him to remain steadfast. Although unknown to him, ancient wisdom shared among Immortals declared it was his life mate’s spirit calling to him, leading him to her.
He yearned to follow the soft and lilting alto, which more than spoke to him but sang in its melodic tone. Each night, it seemed to grow softer, while the voices of The Destroyers became more insistent. It was harder to hear her, to be soothed by the calming resonance.
He didn’t know how many more nights he could stay strong and refuse the enticements of the whispers. He didn’t know how many more nights he could bear to be alone, wandering the streets of the city, searching for love and finding only evil. As a Guardian, it was his purpose to dispose of the evil that plagued humanity and his people. He was growing weary. Without love, he sought the peace of eternal night, The Final Sacrifice.
The stars were fading from the night sky, and the ill-omened sense of boding evil had not dissipated. He reached deeper into the night, letting his mind wander through the city, trying to sense what destiny had fated for him this evening. It was difficult to get through the minds of the city dwellers. There was much unhappiness, greed, loneliness, despair, and discontent. It was hard to separate the seemingly bottomless pools of emotions that threatened to pull him into a whirlpool, leading him to his end.
Then he felt it.
What was that?
He reached deeper into the night and concentrated. It was her. It was very faint, but it was her—the one he had been searching for all these centuries. His life mate. She was in peril. He stretched his arms out and rose on the night wind and prayed that it was not too late.
* * * *
“I’ve come for her. Give her to me.”
His gravelly monotone chilled Adelaide to her bones, but his voice was strangely hypnotic. She could feel his will trying to force her to submit. Providentially, with her will and powers as a witch, she was able to resist. She would never surrender her daughter to the evil monster. She would die first.
“Do not be foolish, Adelaide. There is no way you can defeat me,” he droned on. “She is an instrument of God, created to fight the Evil One. She is to be taught by me. God has decreed it. She is mine.”
“She’s a little girl. You can’t have her!” Adelaide shouted, placing her body between him and Richelle.
His laugh was sinister, as cold as his eyes, as dark as his heart, and as sinister as his intentions. She could see into his mind. The fragmented pieces of sanity were held together by disjointed delusions of divinity. He was utterly mad, his grasp on reality long since gone, if he’d ever had one. She sheltered Richelle’s body with her own, as if hiding her from his sight would save her from the devious plans in his twisted mind, plans that she could see in complete clarity. She shivered at the thought.
“You can’t stop me.” His voice grated like fingernails on a chalkboard. He took a step toward her, unmindful of the rising wind that ripped the hat from his head, leaving his hair flailing wildly about his head in a frightening halo. “It has been decreed by God. She is mine!”
Adelaide turned and scooped up Richelle, wrapping her arms around her as she took off sprinting away from the madman. From the shadows, two accomplices stepped out and blocked her path to her car. She quickly scanned the area. No one was up at this time of the morning. The stars were just now starting to fade, another hour before the sun rose. It was the dawning of a brand-new day that she knew she would not see.
No matter the price, Richelle had to be saved. She opened her spirit to the Goddess, praying that she would send her an angel to save her daughter. Adelaide felt a hand wrap itself in her long dark hair, so different from the auburn locks of her daughter, and pull her head back. She could hear Richelle screaming as her little hands gripped her tightly around her neck. She could feel the cold tip of a dagger pressing against her throat
, moving with her as she tried to shield her daughter.
She felt two pair of hands trying to pry Richelle from her. The tiny speck of a girl had more strength in her than these villains anticipated. Finally the two men each took an arm and forced Richelle to release her mother. Adelaide grew cold at the lost warmth of her daughter’s precious body pressed against hers.
At that moment, her mind filled with an overwhelming sense of power the likes of which she had never felt before. The Goddess is sending me my angel, someone to watch over Richelle. She felt totally at peace even though she knew what destiny had in store for her. Her final thought was not of Richelle, but of the angel that was coming to protect her, a Guardian that would save her from the demented cult that, if they followed through with their plan, would ultimately destroy Richelle.
Please, don’t let him be too late. She felt the cold steel plunge into her side although she felt no pain. She sighed audibly and stared up at her assailants as her body slipped to the cold pavement. The old priest fell to one knee and touched her face with his cold fingers and gnarled hands. His lips stretched over his crooked yellow teeth in a half smile, half sneer as she felt her spirit draining from her like water from a bathtub.
“May God have mercy on your worthless life,” he harshly whispered in her ear, the stench of his breath reeking like the kiss of death.
No, she thought, may she forgive your damned pitiful soul.
Adelaide lay helpless, her life force slowly slipping away. She prayed to the Goddess for strength so Richelle would not be left alone with madmen. She prayed Richelle’s guardian would arrive in time. She prayed for a miracle.
* * * *
The old priest stood up as a dark shadow passed overhead. Scanning the night sky to see what caused such a large shadow he saw nothing. He looked at his companions quizzically as the shadow passed overhead again. They all began to look around nervously as Richelle began struggling in their arms to get free. One man squeezed her arm causing her to yelp in pain, her feet kicking the air as she tried to get loose from his grip and go to her mother.
Without warning, the man’s face contorted and began to turn blue. He released his grip on Richelle, the other man still holding onto her tightly so she could not get away. The first man began clutching at his throat, gasping for air. He collapsed unmoving, his windpipe crushed. At the death of his comrade, the second man released his hold on Richelle and began backing away from an unseen force.
“Stay where you are,” the old priest bellowed. “We have God on our side.”
The man laughed as he tried to scurry away like a rat in an alley, but tripped over his feet and fell to the pavement. The old priest stomped over and kicked him in the side.
“Get the girl!”
The man’s eyes darted about the lightening streets. He couldn’t see or hear anything, but still he felt something, something cold yet alert. He scampered to his feet, joining the priest as they approached Richelle kneeling by her mother.
From nowhere, a tall figure appeared before them, blocking their path to Richelle. It was the Guardian, Valya. He held the stance of a powerful warrior from an ancient time. His jet-black hair hung straight to his shoulders, and he wore his black leather duster as a knight wore his armor.
His eyes glowed in the early morning haze, freezing both men in their shoes as surely as Medusa the gargoyle had turned the Phoenician soldiers to stone. His face was set in a grim scowl, glaring at the two men who were malignantly accosting a child after killing her mother. Among his people, there was no greater crime than that against a child, and many a Guardian had sacrificed their life to save the innocent. Their heinous crime was reprehensible. They must be punished was his only thought as he approached the two men.
It was the soft crying of Richelle that drew his attention from the villains seeking her out. He turned his head to gaze at the child lying prone near her mother, her hand lying on her chest. No longer frozen by Valya’s intimidating glare, the attackers took advantage of his momentary distraction and fled. As he retreated, the old priest was bellowing about the wrath of God be upon him and vengeance would be his. Valya paid no heed to the ravings of the zealous fanatic. There would be another time for justice to be meted out, but for now, his only concern was for the child and her mother.
He approached slowly, quietly as to not startle the child, but he needed to see the woman. He had felt her presence before he came upon the scene. He felt the knife as it pierced her body, and he howled as a banshee at the foreign invasion. He had waited so long. He had come so close that she could not die now. He needed his life mate. An Immortal without their life mate was no more than half of a whole.
Richelle did not even acknowledge his presence as he leaned over and gazed into Adelaide’s eyes. The orbs were dark and empty save for her welling tears as he stroked her hair. From the shading, he could tell that her hair was very dark, maybe a rich brown almost black shade. But he couldn’t quite tell. He shook his head in confusion as a sense of power struck him. Color had not returned to his world, but he could feel his life mate near.
“I know you,” Adelaide rasped, her breath becoming garbled. “I’ve seen you…in a vision. You are the Guardian.” She stared into his somber eyes, their chocolate richness filling her with a sense of serenity. His hair fell forward as he leaned over her.
His brow furrowed as he stared at her in confusion. Very few mortals knew of his world. Most preferred to live their lives existing in an invisible and self-made plastic bubble, oblivious to the battle between Good and Evil being fought around them. They failed to recognize the power in the world around them and refused to admit their lack of supremacy in the grand scheme of things. Man was not the center of the universe but rather a link in the chain, or rather, a thread in the tapestry of life. All living creatures were, man and beast alike.
But this woman was different. She had recognized him as a Guardian.
“I am one of many Guardians.” His voice was sedate. The rich baritone reached inside of her and calmed the lingering fears of her impending end. “Lie still and let me help you.”
“No, you are the Guardian the Goddess has sent for Richelle.” She began to cough, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
She spoke of the Goddess, so Valya surmised she must be some form of Wicca, a witch. This explained why she had recognized him. Wicca tried to live their lives in tune with nature and the world around them. She would have accepted the power of the world in which she lived and incorporated it into her daily life.
The young child clung to her mother, her silent sobs racking her body. He watched as Adelaide struggled to raise her arm to stroke the small child’s hair, cooing softly, trying to soothe the child. He stepped in closer, trying to hear what she was saying. Richelle. That’s what she called the child. Richelle.
“Shh, sweet baby. It’s all right.” She coughed, turning her head as to not frighten Richelle and turned back, giving her daughter a wistful smile. She would miss seeing her grow up, watching her blossom into a lovely young lady and fall in love. She’d miss her daughter’s marriage and the birth of her children, her grandchildren. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye at her loss, but at the same time, she was filled with renewed tranquility that Richelle would live and fulfill her destiny.
The Guardian would see to that.
She gazed up at Valya, giving him a knowing smile. Yes, he would watch over her precious child and see that no one would ever harm her. He would make Richelle happy. No mother could want more for her child.
He reached out and touched Adelaide’s cheek with his fingertip, stroking the softness as he gazed into her eyes, trying to decipher their color. They were light. She brought her hand to his, pulling it from her face and placing it on Richelle’s head. He began to stroke the long hair, amazed at the silkiness of the soft waves that fell, hiding her face.
Richelle slowly raised her head, and he stared dumbfounded. She was an exquisitely beautiful child. He h
eld a tendril of her hair between his fingers, rubbing the silky curl before tucking it behind her ear. It was a light shade, blond. No, blond on the top but a darker shade underneath, auburn, a rich red so unusual in a young child. Her eyes were large as they stared at him unafraid. They were the most remarkable shade of green, like sea foam, pale yet striking.
He jerked his hand back as if he had gotten too close to a flame. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He could see color. He could see the flaming color of her hair, the extraordinary color of her eyes. Could this child be his…life mate? He stared at the mother, her rich chocolate hair framing her heart-shaped face and emphasizing the pale blue eyes gazing back at him knowingly.
Adelaide looked at her child and almost inaudibly spoke to her.
“My precious little one, you know that I will always love you.”
“Yes, Momma.” Richelle sniffled.
“You remember what I taught you about the Goddess?”
Richelle nodded.
“You must have faith in her, in your destiny. You remember what I told you, what your name means?”
Richelle nodded again. “It means brave one.” She sniffed again, wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve.
“You must be brave now.” Adelaide turned her head and began to cough hard as some blood trickled from her mouth, her face grimacing at the pain from her midsection. She turned back to Richelle and smiled. She took Richelle’s hand and placed it in Valya’s outstretched palm, squeezing it lightly and looking into his eyes.
“She is yours now. As she was meant to be. Protect her. Love her.”
He bowed his head, humbled by the faith and trust she held for him as she bestowed her only child, the daughter she was dying for, into his care. When he raised his head to tell her he would always protect her child, her eyes were closed as if she had fallen asleep. He listened intently to hear a breath or a faint heartbeat, but it was too late. She was gone.
He stared at Adelaide’s face incredulously. In spite of the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth she looked so peaceful, so serene. He used the pad of his thumb to wipe away all traces of the offensive color from her face…the color from her face. He was dumbstruck. Color had returned to his world. He had found his life mate. She is nothing more than a mere child, he thought, amazed.