Guardian's Hope

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Hope smiled and shrugged. “Faith was a pretty child, pleasing in her face and in her manners. Unlike me, she could make my father smile and seeing them both happy made life easier for me. Arguing made him angry, so it was easier to do things myself. Of course, by the time she was an adult, I realized my mistake. She became willful and headstrong. My father was no longer pleased with her pretty ways.”

  “Did he beat her, too?” While Hope had never said it, Grace recognized the emotions flowing from her. “Like he did you?”

  Hope didn’t deny it. “He had no reason to beat her. She almost always pleased him and when she didn’t, I covered for her mistakes. Of the two of us, I’m the more sturdily built. It would have hurt her so much more. He only beat her once and that was the night before she ran away. That was two years ago and I haven’t seen her since.”

  “He had no right to beat you.” Grace’s anger was palpable. The room seemed to grow cold. One of her gifts was to feel the emotions of others and Hope’s were powerful enough to cause pain.

  Hope smiled and patted Grace’s balled fist as if she were the one needing comfort instead of the other way around. “So I’ve lately discovered, but how was I to know that growing up. Our community lived ‘away’ from the world, protected from its evil. My father’s word was law as was every other man’s. Scripture supports it.”

  Grace snorted with derision. “Sure it does, according to the guys using their fists. We’ll argue that another time. Get to the part about the athame.”

  “I left home about six months ago. I met a man named Lenny, Leonard Abramowitz, who became my friend. He taught me how to use a computer and about the internet. I found out about the things in my mother’s box. The letter opener is an athame, used in the practice of witchcraft. I was so angry with my father that I turned to my mother’s past. I tried to use what she’d left me. I came in contact with a woman who said she had the same interests and we agreed to meet. The two men who were with her…” Hope cringed. “Oh, please, don’t make me say it. You’ll think I’m insane.”

  “Let me guess,” said Grace, “The two men turned into the big ugly. Long faces, pointy teeth and, my favorite, no noses. Monsters like you never imagined.” And at Hope’s shocked look at her casual acceptance, she laughed. “Been there, done that, didn’t buy the t-shirt. What happened next?”

  Hope didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Being insane might be preferable to monsters being real. “I ran. I saw them through the window and I ran. I kept running until I couldn’t run anymore.”

  “So how the hell did you come up with the idea that Col getting stabbed was your fault?”

  Hope winced. “It was my athame. If I hadn’t been so determined to learn more about witchcraft, those things wouldn’t have been there. Col wouldn’t have been hurt.”

  “Bullshit,” Grace snapped. She placed both hand flat on the table and leaned toward Hope. “And you can wince all you want. That’s the largest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard and I live with Dov and Col so that’s saying something. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to know about yourself. There’s nothing wrong with looking for a friend. There’s nothing wrong with owning that athame. Lay the blame where it belongs: on that bitch and her henchmen. Lay a little on Col’s stupidity. He knew better. He took a gamble and he lost and he almost paid with his life. You had nothing to do with it. Stop taking the blame.”

  Hope stood up, ready to flee. “I’m sorry.”

  “There you go again!” Grace threw up her hands. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Grace, she has been taking the blame all her life. She cannot stop being sorry because you tell her to.” Manon took Hope into her arms, rocking back and forth with loving comfort. “You must unlearn what you have been taught, my little witch. It won’t be easy, but the best lessons never are. You are one of us now and we will help you all we can.” She held Hope at arm’s length. “I must get ready for the night. You may stay here and hide or go back to the house of beasts with Grace. It may be amusing for you to see how they dance when she calls the tune. It is up to you.”

  “I’ve already caused so much trouble.”

  Grace gritted her teeth. “You didn’t make Canaan behave like an ass or the others to sit there and let him. You didn’t make me hiss and spit in your defense. All you did was try to eat a peaceful breakfast. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I’m sor… I’ll try to remember. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Hope smiled tentatively.

  Grace beamed. “Atta girl.”

  Nico was waiting on the half-finished deck, sitting in an old lawn chair that looked dangerously rusted, and he rose to meet them. “Is everything all right?” One eye was swollen closed and his lip was split.

  Hope cried out, “Oh Nico, I’m so sor…” and felt Grace pinch her arm. She fluttered her hand in front of her face, trying to think. “I-It’s too bad you chose to use your fists to defend me, though I appreciate the gesture.” Her words sounded so artificially formal that she cringed. She looked more closely at his battered face. “Is it very painful?”

  “It will heal.”

  Grace gave an unladylike snort. “That’s not what she asked, tough guy.” She turned to Hope. “Why don’t you stay out here and comfort the wounded while I go in and see what the damages are.”

  “Canaan looks no better than I,” Nico said defensively.

  Even Hope couldn’t help but smile at that. Men and little boys, they were very much alike and nothing but trouble. She gently pushed Nico back into the chair. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and held it up to his lips.

  “Spit,” she said.

  “I am not a child,” he said.

  Hope drew back, hesitating. She almost apologized, but took a breath instead. “Well you certainly acted like one. When the little boys at school fight, this is how I clean them up.” She held the handkerchief to his lips again. “Now spit.”

  He spat and she began to wipe the blood from his nose and mouth.

  “You’re a teacher?” he asked between swipes of the cloth.

  “Yes,” she answered, “At our community school. I’m not formally trained, of course. I never went to college, but I always did well in school and when Miss Granger married Martin North, my father decided I would do. So the job became mine. I liked it. I miss it.”

  “Why didn’t you go to university?”

  “No one in our community goes to college. Some who have left may have, but I don’t know that for sure. The children learn what they need to know. They read and write, do arithmetic, learn history. It’s enough for those who stay. I like to read. I got a library card when I first came to the city, when I was learning my way around. You can spend the day in the library and as long as you’re reading, they won’t chase you away. If you happen to doze off while you’re studying, they usually leave you alone. But if you snore, they ask you to leave.”

  She giggled a little and Nico smiled at the sound. “And do you snore, Miss Parsons?”

  “I never thought so, yet apparently I do. I’m afraid it’s not very ladylike.”

  She was so warm and kind, honest and innocent. How could they believe she had anything to do with Col’s attack?

  Hope tucked the bloodied cloth back into her pocket. “Grace and Manon don’t believe I had anything to do with it.” She looked up and smiled, then reddened when she saw Nico’s face. “You didn’t ask that out loud did you?”

  “No. I did not. How much did you hear?”

  She turned away from him and hung her head. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, she jumped and began to tremble. He left it there, resting softly and used his other hand to turn her gently back to face him.

  “Why are you afraid of me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Yet even as he asked the question, he thought he knew the answer.

  “I’ve angered you. I’m sorry.” she whispered back.

  His answer was confirmed. Who had done this to her? Who had made
her so afraid? Her reaction brought up feelings best left buried and he spoke more harshly than he should.

  “I am not angry. I merely asked a question.” She cringed and he immediately regretted his tone. He gentled his voice. “I was surprised, not angry. It’s not every day one meets a person who can hear one’s thoughts.”

  He chuckled and she looked surprised. “You answered a question I thought but didn’t ask. What do you call it?”

  His hand still rested on her shoulder, but she was no longer afraid. He felt her body relax and her breath leave in a sigh of relief.

  “It’s not like that,” she said. “I don’t hear words in my head; I simply know what someone wants.” And knowing what someone wants ahead of their asking had saved her from many slaps for being slow. It had also, on occasion, earned her a punishment for her wicked ways.

  “I don’t mean to do it. I should think before I speak.”

  “Does Grace know?”

  “I have enough obvious faults without advertising my secret ones.”

  “Why do you do that to yourself? You have no more faults than anyone else and you have many fine qualities that others lack. You’re bright and intelligent and resourceful.” And lovely in your sweetness and modesty.

  “How can you say that? I’m none of those things,” she said and unlike other woman he had known, she wasn’t fishing for more compliments. She believed what she said.

  “You sought knowledge in spite of the limitations of your community. You bravely left everything that was familiar and came to this city knowing nothing of the world and you survived where others would have succumbed.”

  “Not alone. I had Lenny. He kept me safe.”

  Nico wondered if Lenny had abused her as well. Did she sleep with him as payment for his protection?

  “No!” she cried. “Good heavens! Lenny was old enough to be my grandfather.” What kind of woman did Nico think she was? His reaction was no different from what her father’s would be and yet it crushed her.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “You didn’t ask it out loud.”

  “I had no right to think it, never mind ask it.” Yet he was inordinately pleased with her answer. He took the hand that she held to her mouth and kissed it, bowing low. “I apologize for my unwarranted thoughts.”

  She stared at him, unable to speak. He’d kissed her hand. He was the one who said I’m sorry. Her life was skipping back and forth between sweet dreams and nightmares. She shook her head to collect her wits.

  “The first time I saw Lenny, he was standing between a man and a boy with a bloody lip. Lenny was daring the man to pick on somebody his own size even though the man was a head taller and much younger.” She shook her head and smiled at the memory. “He popped Lenny a good one and poor Lenny went flying. The boy ran off and the man stomped away. I ran to help Lenny. When he’d been hit, his bag went flying. It was filled with money and I scrambled everywhere on my hands and knees gathering it up. Lenny just sat there shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. It took a while before he could stand, so I waited with him.

  “The first thing he said was ‘What kind of blankity-blank would hit a kid’ and I knew right then and there that he was a good man in spite of his language.” Hope blushed. “He insisted on buying me dinner as a thank you for saving his money. The poor man said he’d never known anyone who would do that. Once he realized I had no money of my own and nowhere to sleep, he took me home. I knew it was wrong. I knew what people would think, but I was desperate and Lenny was kind. He never asked anything of me. I swear.” Nico had to believe her. She didn’t know why, only that it was important he think well of her.

  “As I said before, I had no right to think otherwise,” and when he saw that it wasn’t enough. “You have no need to swear it. Your word is good enough.” He looked at her with her big green eyes and he felt a kinship with the deceased Lenny. He wanted nothing more than to protect this woman/child.

  “You trusted your instincts when you trusted Lenny. You knew he could be trusted. Manon and Grace share this instinct. They’ll know more about it than I. I only know it is a gift to be cherished.” As was the recipient of the gift. Once again he held out his hand. “Come,” he said and laughed. “Grace will have done her worst by now and probably has Canaan locked away, pleasurably paying for his sins. His bark is worse than his bite, you know.” Nico fingered his bruised eye. “Most of the time. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Buffy, the little yellow cat sat on the sill of Manon’s kitchen window and purred contentedly.

  “I know,” Manon agreed. She scratched the cat between its ears. “They will be good for each other.”

  Chapter 9

  Tyn stood over the crumpled form in the corner and snarled. He kicked the body again and grunted in satisfaction when it groaned.

  “Good. You’re still alive.” He grabbed the man by his lapels and hauled him to the corner where he propped him into a sitting position. The man’s head lolled on his chest and Tyn back handed him hard enough to split his cheek.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t know it was you? Did you think you could steal my property and then sell it back to me?”

  The man only groaned in response.

  “Answer me,” the demon snarled. His claws were fully extended and his back rippled with the need for release. He heard a sound from the doorway and turned, ready to release his anger on anything that moved. Beauty walked sedately into the room.

  “What do you want?” he snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Anna is dying,” she said without emotion.

  “Who?” He didn’t know any Anna.

  “Number Seven.” Beauty stared past him to the man in the corner.

  “What are you looking at?” He hadn’t meant it as a question, but she answered it anyway.

  “The dead man in the corner.”

  “He isn’t dead.” He curled his lip. The stupid bitch knew nothing.

  She stared at him or through him until he moved to the body on the floor and then she stared through the space where he’d stood. Tyn felt for a pulse. The bitch was right. The bastard was dead. It didn’t improve his mood.

  “Why are you still standing there?”

  “Anna is dying.”

  “Well what do you want me to do about it? Go stick a bag over her head and get it over with.” He was losing one a week and replacing them as fast as they died. They’d stop eating and sleeping and then stop responding to his orders. And two or three days later they were gone. After the first one died because he’d enjoyed her too much, he cut back on his drinking. When Beauty told him the second one was going, he decided to be merciful and finish her off quickly. Besides, he was thirsty and he missed the added satisfaction of draining something dry. It hadn’t worked out well for either of them. The first gulp made him gag, the second made him puke. The bitch was rotting from the inside out. He’d left her to Beauty’s care and hauled the body to the river when it was over. Now he only drank from the new ones. He turned back to Beauty who still stood staring at nothing.

  “You heard me. I order you to put a plastic bag over her head and kill her.”

  Beauty bowed her head in obedience, turned and took two steps toward the door. With the third step, she hesitated. On the fourth step, she stopped. She straightened her sagging shoulders and forced her head upright willfully fighting against the power of Tyn’s thrall.

  “No,” she said so softly Tyn thought he had misheard, but she said it again. “No.”

  “You defy me bitch?” he asked with the threat clear in his voice. “I order you to kill her.”

  Once again she stepped toward the door and once again she stopped. The word was little more than a breath.

  “No.”

  He hit her from behind, sending her through the door and crashing into the wall opposite. She crumpled to her knees.

  “You will obey me,” he screamed. “You will obey me or I will bleed you dry.”
He gripped her hair and pulled her head back until she was looking up at him. “You are my minion. Mine. Don’t think because I favor you I won’t kill you. This is twice you’ve defied me. That’s two times too many.”

  Tyn stormed back into his office and grabbed the picture from his desk. He came back to her, yanked her head back and smashed the picture into her face. She hadn’t answered when he asked her before. Now, by the powers of hell, she would.

  “Who is this woman?”

  He felt her lips move against the paper still pressed to her face. He held it away but retained his grip on her hair.

  “Say it again. Who is this woman?”

  “Me,” she said quietly and smiled.

  The smile was replaced with a cry of pain when Tyn swiped his claws across her cheek.

  *****

  The three women were in Manon’s kitchen where they usually met, because there was rarely any privacy at the main House. At night, the men were always about, those who weren’t on patrol. They were constantly in and out of the kitchen, looking for food, asking questions, and tormenting Grace with their laughter and teasing. Hope found this camaraderie strange.

  By day, workmen were renovating the house next door to provide room for their growing numbers and they had recently begun construction of the passageway at the back that would join the two buildings. The noise made sleep difficult and everyone was short tempered. Manon and Grace were supervising the daytime work so the men could sleep and were grateful when Hope volunteered to share the burden. It should have made it difficult for Hope to change over to their upside down hours; sleeping during the day and going about their business at night. It should have, yet it didn’t. Within four days of moving in, she was ready for bed by 8 AM.

  I am Alice and this is the rabbit hole. It wasn’t the first time Hope thought it. She’d been living here for two weeks and she still couldn’t – what was that phrase that Nardo used this morning – oh yes, wrap her head around it.

  In some ways the House of Guardians was similar to the Community of Saints. They were a group of unrelated people who lived like family. Their lives revolved around their mission and each other. Canaan was the leader here as her father and his Council of Elders was there. But that’s where the similarity ended.