Guardian's Hope

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  She gasped as she remembered and Nico’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t move or speak, only watched her carefully. Waiting.

  “Faith,” she whispered. “It was Faith. The woman you found in the river was my sister.”

  He was on his feet, reaching for her and she rose to meet him. He cradled her gently against his chest and murmured into her hair.

  “We don’t know that. Let’s let Nardo find out what he can. It was only three words, Hope, and they were blurred.”

  “No,” she said, wanting to stay enfolded in his arms, knowing she couldn’t. “It’s hers. I can show you.”

  She forced herself to pull away from his embrace but held his hand and pulled him after her, up the stairs to her room. She went directly to the Bible on her dresser and removed another ragged scrap of paper, this one with edges darkened by fire.

  “Look,” she said and held the paper out to him. It was a fragment of a letter written on pale blue stationary.

  last letter I’m going to write

  swered any of the others so I

  in touch with me

  Bar. They’ll know

  on’t this

  ou’d turn against me.

  e him than I thought.

  ad to go.

  “Look at the script. Compare it with the note you brought home. Faith was always so proud of her penmanship, always delighted when our father chose her to write something for him. When she was a girl, she’d practice for hours. She thought it made her special. I guess it did. I don’t know anything anymore. Only that she’s dead and I failed her.”

  Nico gently replaced the scrap in the Bible and set it on the dresser. He reached for her hands and held one in each of his.

  “I agree that the handwriting is distinctive and most probably Faith’s, but we don’t know how it came to be in the girl’s pocket. The woman I found was very young, little more than a girl. She looked nothing like the picture you showed us.”

  “You said she was sick, emaciated. You might not have recognized her. You weren’t looking for Faith.” Hope’s eyes filled again at the thought of Faith alone and in pain.

  “I am always looking for your sister. We all are. As soon as you told us your story, Nardo set up a search grid based on our patrols.” Nico smiled reassuringly. “We will cover the territory much faster than a lone woman searching alphabetically. For now, let Nardo do his job and don’t borrow trouble.”

  “I’ll try,” she said.

  He pointed to the bed. “Now, what is all this?” he asked, more to distract her than out of curiosity.

  Hope wiped her eyes, blew her nose and turned to the bed piled high with new clothing, the tags conspicuously absent. Hope put her hands on her hips and huffed.

  “This is Manon’s doing. She decided my wardrobe wasn’t ‘sufficient’ for a woman my age. She and Grace went shopping on line and bought all these things. They dragged me up here this afternoon to show me their loot. Made me try everything on.”

  She made a show of straightening the stack so she could inconspicuously tuck the pile of lacy and revealing lingerie underneath. She’d tried those on, too, and was surprised and a little excited by the way they made her feel. She’d never worn anything but plain white cotton, top and bottom, and the comments her new friends made when they’d finally forced her out of the bathroom, both embarrassed and thrilled her at the same time.

  “I don’t need them,” she said now to cover the heat rising to her face, “I have two perfectly serviceable skirts and several blouses and sweaters. I told them that I have money of my own, that I don’t need their charity. Apparently, they weren’t listening. They were too busy taking all the tags. How will I return them?”

  Nico laughed and, just as in sleep, his face softened. Hope liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. He doesn’t laugh enough, she thought.

  “It’s not charity. Manon did the same for Grace and they won’t let you return them,” he said, still chuckling. “Don’t even try. It’s a battle you can’t win. Once those two get something in their teeth, they don’t let go. Look at all the construction around here. That’s their doing. They decided the House should be expanded. Canaan said no. It was fine the way it was.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “You see the results.”

  “Why would they go ahead when he’d forbidden it and why would he let them?” In her world, man’s word was law.

  “They went ahead because it needed to be done. There’s no privacy here and while it never bothered the men, it sometimes bothers Grace. Canaan loves her and wants her to be happy.” He paused for a moment. “Don’t think for a minute Grace pushes him around. Canaan’s won his share of battles. He’s not one to move where he doesn’t want to go and Grace would never push beyond those limits. She loves him fiercely and wants his happiness as well.” He almost said he envied them, that he wanted what they had for himself.

  “Someday you’ll find it,” Hope said quietly as she laid her hand gently on his arm. She didn’t apologize for reading his thoughts.

  “It’s not for me,” he said, just as quietly and left her standing alone in a room full of new clothes.

  Chapter 11

  Hope removed another handful of books from the cases that lined one wall of the parlor, dusted their place on the shelf along with the exposed edges of the pages and replaced them. The book cases fit so well with the rest of the room she thought they were original to it, but Grace had explained that while they were original to the house, they were a fairly recent addition to the parlor, the only addition in a hundred years. She hoped when Nardo moved out of the former library, the bookcases would remain here. She loved them and the room. It was her favorite room in the house.

  “So when Grace came into the family, the boys really were boys even though they’re in their twenties,” she continued her conversation with Otto, “And the lilies on their chests aren’t tattoos, but blossomed, for lack of a better word, when they became men. And the ribbon beneath the lilies, what does Paenitet Me mean?” She paused before removing another stack of books.

  “It means ‘I repent’. It’s a constant reminder of the sins of our forefathers.”

  That fit with the story Manon had told her, though how such markings could miraculously appear on these men sometime between the ages of twenty-three and twenty-seven was still baffling. Another batch of books were removed, dusted, and replaced.

  “Now, how do you fit into the family. Are you Canaan’s uncle or the twins’?”

  Otto sat in the chair by the fire, not the one she thought of as Nico’s, but the one opposite. The night was warm enough to do without, but a fire in the grate always made the room more cheerful.

  “Neither. I’m not related by blood to anyone. The titles strictly honorary, but I like to think I’m everyone’s uncle. Yours too, if you’d like.”

  “I’ve never had an uncle.” She liked this man. Quiet and friendly, he always made her feel welcome. This was the first chance she’d had to talk with him alone.

  “Well there you go. You’ve got one now. How are you settling in?”

  “Much better, now, thank you.” Nardo had worked his magic with the computer, checked sources, he assured her, that were more reliable than any she could find and called no attention to the questioner which going to the police would certainly do. The woman found floating in the river was not her sister, but another lost soul and while her heart ached for the poor woman dying lost and alone, it meant that Faith was still out there waiting to be found.

  “I won’t say it’s been easy. Everything here seems the opposite of everything I’ve known and I mean everything. Even the clothes.”

  She looked down at her navy slacks and the light blue patterned blouse. Underneath she wore a pair of skimpy blue silk panties and a matching bra that Manon said “offered support”. Wearing these beautiful things made her feel almost pretty. It was probably a sin of pride and conceit but she no longer cared. It felt good to feel good. She swept a piece of imaginary lint
off her slacks just to feel the fine wool beneath her fingers.

  “I’ve never worn trousers before, though I must admit, I’d thought about it out in the barn on cold winter mornings. Here, let me get that.” She rescued Uncle Otto’s mug before he placed it on the unprotected mahogany table. She glanced inside and sniffed the contents. The coppery smell couldn’t be what she thought it was. “What is this?”

  He looked surprised. “You don’t know? I thought someone had already told you by now. Surely if-it’s-in-my-head-it’s–out-my-mouth Dov would have mentioned it.”

  She smiled at his accurate reference and looked back at the cup suspiciously. “No. I’m sure I would have remembered it.”

  “Ah, well,” he said and pointed to the sofa. “You’d better sit down. You’re not going to like what I tell you.” He waited until she was settled. “How much have they told you about the Paenitentia?”

  “Manon told me the story of the Daughters of Man. Sometime after that she told me that your story was similar but you blamed it all on the women.” Hope smiled to show she meant no offence.

  “And the Guardians?”

  “They’re born to protect the Paenitentia from the demons that cross over to this world,” she repeated what Grace had said.

  Uncle Otto nodded and quoted from memory, “Time passed and the Nephilim lost their way. They abused their gifts, used their size and strength to make war for their own advancement and eventually began to feed on the blood and lives of humans. Over the centuries they forgot the strictures of their fathers. God was not pleased and he set a curse upon their kind.” He looked so solemn. “Feeding on the blood of humans. Think about that, what it means.”

  “Murder,” she said quietly, “I thought it meant murder.” Though now she wasn’t so sure.

  “The meaning is literal,” he said, confirming her doubts. “The Paenitentia foreswore the practice. Except for one very special circumstance, they don’t drink blood. Ever. But there’s still the curse. You’ve heard them use the terms ‘turned or turning’?

  She nodded, too stunned to speak. Dov and Col used the words all the time when teasing each other. She hadn’t thought about the meaning.

  “Unless we die of old age or accident or you take our heads or hearts, Paenitentian males don’t die once, but twice. Because of the curse, if we die a violent death the first time, we turn.” He paused, giving her time to digest what he was saying. His next words were said quietly and calmly. “Turn is short for turning vampire. I was once a Guardian. Now, I’m an outcast among everyone but those of this House. That blood,” he pointed to his mug, “is my salvation. It’s what keeps me from evil. I’m vampire, Hope.”

  She couldn’t help it. She found herself inching along the sofa away from him. “No,” she whimpered.

  “Yes,” he said sadly. “I’ll leave you now to make up your own mind as to how you feel about me. But before I go, I want you to understand that you’re not in danger from me. I couldn’t do that to Manon. We’re mated and bound and I’d take my own life before I’d endanger hers. That’s what kept me from her for four long years. It’s the same for you and Grace. Canaan should have killed me when it first happened. It was his duty, but he loved me and cared for me as best he knew how. Grace found the way to let me live an almost normal life, but if it came to a choice between us, he would rightly choose her safety over my life.” He rose quietly and easily so as not to frighten her any more than she already was and headed for the door. “You think about it.”

  “I already have,” she said as he reached the hall and it was true. Nico, Dov and Col had protected her when she was a stranger. They would be even stronger in the defense of Manon and Grace who they loved. She tried to smile. “I’ve only met kindness and acceptance in this House, from you as well as the others. I’ve never felt the need to lock my bedroom door. The Guardians are meant to fight demons and the evil they carry. If you were evil, they’d fight you, too. Nico says my instincts are good and I should trust them, so I’m putting that to the test. I believe you, Uncle Otto,” she said, using the familial term purposely. She wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t think I can wash out your cup.”

  Uncle Otto nodded and laughed in relief. “And I’ll never ask you to. I think that’s a fair bargain. I also think Dov’s right about you. He says you’re a keeper.” He winked at her and continued through the door.

  *****

  Canaan stood with his fists on his hips and looked at the jumble of computers, cords and boxes. Nardo was in the process of moving his equipment to its new home and while he appreciated the help in carrying it all, he insisted on setting it all up by himself. No one argued with his decision.

  “I could swear there wasn’t this much in the other room.”

  Nardo bumped his head as crawled out from under a desk. He took a moment to rub the spot. “There wasn’t. I kept a lot of it in my room.”

  “I had a couple of things I wanted to ask about, but you’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll catch you later.

  Nardo unwrapped the cord that wound around his foot. “No, no. Ask away. I can talk and work at the same time. I’ve got something for you, too.”

  Canaan cleared the rubble from a chair and turned it around to straddle it. “Grace says you’re almost ready to market your Guardian’s game.”

  “Oh yeah. It needs a little tweaking, but it’s pretty much there.” He picked up a cord, looked at the surrounding equipment, shrugged and threw it back on the floor. “I’m beginning to think I could’ve used a little organizational help here,” he mumbled at the mess and looked up at Canaan. “What were you saying?”

  “Grace seems to think your game might do well on the human market as well as with the Paenitentia. What do you think?”

  Nardo pounced on another cord and grinned. “I think she could be right.” He stopped his crawling and sat down to face Canaan. “Look. Our kids are hooked on games produced by humans because that’s all there is and those games aren’t much different from mine. Okay,” he grinned, “Mine’s better, but only Paenitentian kids are going to know that the Guardians of the Race are real. It’s not like there’s anything in it that’ll convince a human otherwise. So yeah, I think we can sell it to them, too.”

  “Grace thinks you should have a website.”

  “I already do. As a matter of fact, I have several of them out there.”

  “No, I mean one set up to market this game. She’s thinking merchandise, t-shirts and who knows what else. She’s thinking Hope would have the knowhow to run it.”

  “She probably does and it would certainly be a better fit than the butt-plug business, no pun intended.” Nardo grinned so that Canaan would know that it was intended. “I mean, a lot depends on popularity and sales. There’d have to be an initial outlay of cash for merchandise. Hope has more experience than the rest of us, but would she do it? She’s not proud of the ‘Naughty Nighty’.”

  “It won’t hurt to ask. I wanted to run it by you first. Grace says she likes cooking for us and keeping house, but it was her choice. Hope was forced to do it in her father’s house and Grace doesn’t want her to think she has to continue doing it here. Just to pay her way, you know.”

  “Her old man’s must have been one helluva bastard. I don’t think she really understands that.” Nardo was looking for cords again.

  “I don’t think so either, but it’s not for us to tell her. She’s smart enough. She’ll figure it out in the end.”

  Nardo was back under a desk, his butt facing Canaan. “What about Nico? The twins seem to think he’s got the hots for her.” He didn’t mention that he wholeheartedly agreed. Sometimes, he had the urge to yell “Hope’s in trouble!” just to watch Nico fall over himself trying to run to her rescue. Mr. GQ was looking a little frazzled lately.

  “The twins should keep their opinions to themselves. Personally, I have enough trouble keeping up with my own love life. I don’t need to get involved with anyone else’s.” He gave Nardo a meaningful look.
r />   “I hear you.”

  “I knew you would. What did you have for me?”

  “Shit!” He banged his head again as he crawled out from under. “Nico’s floater? There was another one a few weeks before. I got curious. Okay, I was playing around, really, and got lucky. I was checking out towns along the river downstream and came across another young woman, riddled with cancer, face down in the shallows. They ruled her a suicide too, but it seems fishy to me. What’re the chances of two young women, both riddled with untreated cancer, both offing themselves in the same river just a few weeks apart. I don’t know what it is, boss, but it ain’t right.”

  “I get that. Any ID on the other one?”

  “No, but she was African American so…”

  “It’s not Hope’s sister.” Canaan indicated the room. “Get yourself set up here and keep looking. And thanks. You do good work.”

  He had his back turned and was heading out, so he missed the look of pride on Nardo’s face.

  *****

  “You mean it? You’d really let me do this?”

  Grace laughed. “Of course I mean it and we’re not letting you do anything. We’re offering you the opportunity. Whether you take it or not is up to you. You’ve got more experience than any of us, so it only makes sense. It won’t be for a while yet. You have time to think about it. For all we know, you may be long gone by the time it’s ready to roll.”

  Hope’s face fell. “You’re right, of course. It’s time I went back to my own house.”

  “Did I say that?” Grace laughed at Hope’s crestfallen look. “You’ve lived here long enough to know that if you were an imposition, you’d hear about it. I only meant that it’s your life and you get to choose how you live it. You may have other plans. You’ll still be welcome here. You’d still be my friend. I don’t want you to stay here or work with us out of some stupid sense of obligation. If you decide to stay with us, I want it to be because you feel like you belong here and not because you’re afraid of what’s out there. This House takes some getting used to. I know. There’s always someone underfoot. No place to be alone and everyone knows your business. Sometimes it makes me want to scream.”