Guardian's Joy #3

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  He didn’t let go. “Shh,” he whispered, “Don’t be stubborn and don’t try to tell me you don’t need help when I can see for myself you do. I’ll hold you until you’re ready.”

  Determined, she swung her legs over the side and fought another bout of dizziness when she tried to stand. She gritted her teeth as Nardo laughed when, against her will, she clung to his arms to steady herself. One step and then another and then her knees buckled and she was again in his arms; one arm around her shoulders and the other behind her knees. He held her close to his chest, as easily as if she were a child. But she wasn’t a child…

  Nardo felt her stiffen and her eyes widen with fear. So much for the woman who wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “Shh,” he whispered again, “I won’t let you go.” He carried her around the fabric screens and into the large family space. “Sofa or chair? Chair, I think, at least for a little while. Get your body used to being upright again.” He settled her into an oversized, overstuffed chair. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Some unknown terror pervaded her lungs and refused to let them expand. JJ gripped the arms of the chair, her nails digging into the rough fabric. The constriction released and she gulped air like a drowning woman suddenly breaking the water’s surface.

  Her mouth snapped shut at the sound of movement behind her and she turned away in pretended interest in the room around her. She barely had time to take in the rest of the high ceiling, the huge flat screen television with every electronic attachment known to man, and the regulation sized pool table before Nardo was there with her afghan to tuck around her legs. It was while he tucked her in that she realized what she was wearing and it was a far cry from the sweat pants and tee she usually wore to bed. She plucked at the white flannel.

  “Where did this come from?” It looked like something out of Gone With the Wind, though she was grateful for it. It covered a great many flaws. But why should that matter?

  Nardo tried to cover his laugh at the look she gave the billowing gown. “The nun’s wear? That’s courtesy of Hope. She’s not a nun, though. She’s Nico’s mate. It’s not much of a fashion statement, but it’s warm and easy to get on and off.”

  She looked at him in alarm and this time he laughed outright. “Don’t worry; Grace and Manon took care of all your personal stuff. You don’t remember?” he asked and when she shook her head, he laughed again and raised his right eyebrow. “See, that’s the proof of it right there. If I had taken that gown off, you’d definitely remember it.”

  “Right,” she said. She didn’t smile.

  “Damn right,” he said and nodded his head for emphasis. “I’ll go get something for you to eat.”

  She waved her hand. “I don’t want anything…” she started.

  “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what you need. You’re weak and you’re skinny as a rail. We need to feed you up.”

  So much for the great white cover up. JJ changed the subject away from food and weight.

  “What is this place?”

  Nardo pointed an admonishing finger at her. “Don’t try to change the subject. We’ll talk when I get back with the food.” He shook the finger. “And you will eat it.”

  He left her sitting there alone in the cavernous room while he left through a heavy metal door that she assumed led to the kitchen.

  In addition to the items she’d already noted, she saw a poker table over in one corner and a dart board set against a cork background on the back wall. White curtained privacy screens concealed the corner of the far wall where her makeshift hospital room lay and at the opposite corner of the same far wall, wide double doors opened to a long windowless corridor. The windows in this room were high and shuttered, though the shutters were open and allowed moonlight to stream in.

  The furniture wasn’t new or well matched, but looked well worn and, if her current seating was any indication, comfortable. It certainly didn’t look like a den of vampires, although the woman following Nardo through the door looked like she could do some damage with the knife she was wielding like a sword. JJ tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold.

  “Sweetie, you cannot make her eat all of that. It’ll make her sick.”

  Sweetie? Did she just call him sweetie? It was Betty Crocker again. This time without the apron.

  “She needs to eat, Grace. She was slim before, now she’s skin and bone. She can’t afford to lose any more weight. You said so yourself.”

  Nardo barreled forward with a loaded tray. He set it down on the table beside JJ’s chair. The woman skidded to a stop behind him. He almost knocked her over when he turned, but instead picked her up and set her aside. He then continued on to grab another chair which he carried over and placed squarely in front of JJ.

  The woman shook the knife threateningly. “Listen, buddy, that’s twice you’ve done that. I let it go the first time because…” She looked at JJ and suddenly broke into a smile. “Okay, I get it, but don’t make a habit of it.” She looked at the knife in her hand, flushed, switched the knife to her left hand and hid it behind her back, holding out her right in greeting.

  “You must be Grace,” JJ said half to herself. Apparently the three women weren’t figments of her imagination. “You’ve been taking care of me. I saw you before. I thought…”

  “I was Betty Crocker,” Grace laughed. “I know. I’m going to be paying for that one. Glad Nardo cleared that up.”

  JJ ran her hand down the sleeve of the nightgown. “Nardo said Grace and Hope had been caring for me and this belonged to Hope and if it’s too long for me,” she said diplomatically, “You’d be swimming in it. Therefore…”

  “Yep. Hope is Mary Poppins. Uncle Otto’s going to love you. He’s got a thing for smart women.”

  JJ wanted to ask who this Uncle Otto was, but she wasn’t staying so it didn’t matter. “I really appreciate you helping me out, but now that I’m okay, I really want to…”

  “Eat some food before it goes cold. Then you can go upstairs to sleep in a real bed,” Nardo interrupted.

  “You’re awfully bossy,” JJ snapped.

  “And you’re awfully stubborn,” Nardo laughed back, “Look at you. You’re weak as a kitten. You need another week and that’s a minimum.” He picked up the bowl of soup and loaded the spoon.

  “He’s right, Joy. You were in bad shape. If the boys hadn’t found you when they did, well, you wouldn’t be arguing with anyone today. You were scratched when the demon came over the wall. It wasn’t long or deep and in all the excitement, you probably didn’t notice it at the time, what with all the other injuries. We know you know about demons, but do you know about the poison they carry? It festers and the infection can kill you. Normal antibiotics don’t work. You were lucky it was a claw and not a bite. That's worse, much worse.”

  “I didn’t know, but I…” A spoon was in her mouth and the soup was down her throat before she could protest and it was so-o-o good. It had barely hit bottom before her stomach was growling for more.

  After the second spoonful, she had the presence of mind to say, “I can feed myself, thank you.”

  “You’re right handed. You try to eat soup with your left, you’ll make a mess of that pretty white gown. Sit back, relax, and let me do it.” Nardo held another spoonful out.

  Grace shook her head, laughing. “When it comes to these guys, my only advice is to choose your battles.” A steady beep sounded from the kitchen. “Oh shit, I’ve got focaccia in the oven. I’ll talk to you later.” She took off at a run.

  JJ rolled her eyes, but when she realized Nardo wasn’t giving in, she opened her mouth and accepted the spoon. She decided she was too hungry to argue.

  Nardo noticed the change and smiled inwardly. His wild little filly had just taken the first step toward being tamed. He wasn’t sure when he decided she was his. Maybe it was the first moment he saw her. It didn’t make any sense, but there it was. She was his and he would do whatever he needed to convi
nce her of the fact. But first, she had to learn to trust his judgment. He set the spoon in the bowl, picked up the napkin and gently wiped a drip from the corner of her mouth. She jumped.

  “Still sore?” he asked even though he knew it wasn’t her tender lips that made her uneasy. He continued the gentle dabs across her lower lip. “I’ll get something for that as soon as you’ve finished your lunch.”

  The soup was finished. She wanted more, but she was ashamed to ask. People thought, because of her thinness, that her appetite was small when, in fact, it was the opposite. The male cops thought she only ate like a horse when they were around to prove she could compete with them at the table as well as out in the field and so to avoid bad feelings, she rarely ate in their company. Women were worse. Some seemed to think she was rubbing their noses in the fact that she could eat what they could not and never gain an ounce. Others made sly comments about bulimia and tape worms. Over time she learned to pick at her food in public and eat her fill only when she was alone.

  Nardo began cutting a sandwich into bite sized pieces.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You’re still hungry.”

  “No I’m not. Really.”

  “Yes, you are. You were disappointed when the bowl was empty and your eyes keep straying to the ham and cheese. Now open up.” He held out a piece of sandwich and she obeyed.

  “A sandwich I can eat as a lefty,” she said once she’d swallowed.

  “You need someone to take care of you,” he said, “Besides, it makes me feel useful, so give me a break.”

  JJ sighed and opened her mouth for another bite of sandwich. It felt awkward to be cared for like this. She wasn’t used to it and she certainly didn’t need it. Her mother’s free and easy lifestyle had taught her independence. It was all well and good to eat when you were hungry and sleep when you were tired if you were an adult. It wasn’t so easy if you were a child who couldn’t reach the peanut butter jar or had to get to school on time in the morning. JJ had learned early on that it was best to take care of yourself. Her mother loved her, but tended to treat her like a miniature adult and the men who passed fairly regularly through her childhood were never there long enough to be relied on.

  She’d spent most of her adult life training her body to be as tough as any man’s and generally, that’s the way she was treated. She was tough and needed no pampering. Nardo insisted on treating her like some delicate, fragile creature. It couldn’t be her looks. On her good days, her looks were passable at best. Today, well, she didn’t need a mirror to know what she looked like.

  “Why?” she asked aloud, “Why are you doing this?”

  He popped another bite of sandwich into her mouth and took a bite of his own before answering. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to frighten her either.

  “You’re my responsibility.”

  “Oh,” she said and was a little surprised at her disappointment. “You mean this.” She showed him her hands. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know who I was, what I was.”

  “But I should have,” he said cryptically.

  Nardo stacked the dishes neatly on the tray. He picked up his chair and carried it back to its original place. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

  She kept her body relaxed and pretended she didn’t feel the warmth of his body, the strips of heat from his arms at her shoulders and knees. She forced her breathing into a slow and steady in and out and she made sure she didn’t swallow too deeply. She didn’t care if he thought she was sexually interested. It didn’t matter what he thought as long as he didn’t recognize her terror at being held like this.

  “Hey,” he laughed, “Relax. I won’t bite.”

  JJ’s eyes widened, her mouth opened and her breath stopped. She slammed her hands against his chest. Nardo didn’t move, but the force of her hands against him sent her crashing to the floor. She scrambled backwards until her back hit the wall, all pretense of control gone along with all rational thought. There was only a frenzied whisper in her mind. “Help me! Help me!”

  “Joy, look at me.”

  The voice was calm, reasonable, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the floor. She felt a thumb and finger on either side of her jaw. It forced her chin up, but her eyes remained cast down and she stared at the wavering lines between the narrow oak planks of the floor.

  “Joy.” The voice was firmer now. “Look. At. Me.”

  Soft hazel eyes met hers. They crinkled at the corners.

  “That-a-girl,” Nardo said quietly, “Now breathe. With me.”

  She hadn’t known she was gulping air again until he made her slow to match his deep and even breathing. He released her chin and slid his hand along her cheek. She leaned into it and then froze and felt a flush rise to her cheeks, more embarrassed by this show of weakness than she’d been by her near hysteria.

  “Poor Joy,” he whispered. His hand stayed at her cheek as the rough pad of his thumb traced her lower lip. “What did that bastard do to you?”

  She couldn’t answer because she didn’t know. She picked herself up unsteadily and let him help her to the room.

  Chapter 12

  Dov hated patrolling in the winter. The summer heat sometimes brought in demons at a rate of two or three a week. Every summer night held the possibility of a battle. Late December? Not so much. Nardo got the last one and they might not see another until January. Canaan insisted they patrol anyway. Maybe he could talk Nico into taking a buzz by the skating rink behind City Hall. They officially closed at ten, but there were always a few who stayed late. And some of those girls with their short floaty skirts? Hot damn!

  Shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather bomber jacket, Dov trudged beside Nico through the streets of the city center. The sidewalk was covered with a thin film of ice. Snowmelt from the slightly warmer afternoon sun had refrozen with the setting sun. He took three running steps and slid the next twenty feet, catching himself on a streetlight designed to look like a nineteenth century gaslight. Nico frowned.

  “Aw, come on, Nico. Didn’t you ever slide on the ice when you were a kid?” Dov liked Nico, respected him, admired him even, but damn, all-business-all-the-time was borrrring. “Try it. Just once. I dare you.”

  Nico shrugged once, looked back over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, took a few quick steps and slid. The smooth soles of his Italian leather boots were perfect for the sport and he sped by Dov’s lamppost. The mailbox on the corner saved him from ski jumping the curb. His body stopped before his feet did.

  Dov ran, flat footed, to catch up. He was laughing at the surprised look on Nico’s face and was about to shout his enthusiasm when Nico’s hand came up to stop him. The Guardian’s head cocked to the left, listening. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. The hand saying stop now signaled off to the right toward City Hall and the ice rink. He’d found a demon. When it came to scenting creatures from the otherworld, Nico was the best.

  The two took off at a run, their white light giving them not only speed and invisibility, but sure footedness on the icy walks. They covered the four blocks in seconds. Keeping their white light, they halted at the edge of the rink.

  In warm weather, the shallow, cement lined pond served as a reflecting pool, skirted by a wide path for strollers and power walkers and the occasional skateboarder who couldn’t read the signs prohibiting it. The trees shading the evenly spaced benches were the smaller varieties of their species, fragrant with blossoms in spring and offering a cooling shade in the city’s summer heat.

  Now, the dark gray bones of the trees stood in sharp contrast to the white snow and the ice glistened under the surrounding lights. There were only a dozen or so skaters left and the same number huddled around the two nearest benches, trading skates for boots.

  Nico and Dov scanned the area, searching for quarry they could smell but not see. Demons could hold their human form until they attacked. At other times, onl
y the Daughters of Man could see them for what they were and if Manon was right, only those strong in their power. It was a mystery why the Guardians were denied this advantage.

  Dov pointed across the pond. “There.” Two young women, skates thrown over their shoulders, were heading down the path that led to the park entrance on the far side. They were chatting animatedly to each other, completely unaware of the dark shadow that separated from the others and followed them. “Can I have him?” he asked.

  Nico nodded. “I’ll circle around and get between you and the women, make sure they see nothing. Make it quick and clean.” And then he was gone.

  Dov sprinted around the pond and slowed when he came in sight of the monster. There was no doubt now. The distinct odor of demon permeated the crisp winter air. The demon waited until its victims were around the curve and out of sight of the rink before it increased its speed to close the gap between them.

  Once they were beyond the sight and hearing of those at the rink, Dov wasted no time. He used his white light and revealed himself only when he was ahead of the demon. It was smaller than he thought and as it revealed itself, it was nastier looking than most.

  “Hey there, ugly. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? Better yet, someone my size.” He wove the spinning knife through his fingers in a move he’d been practicing for weeks.

  The demon wasn’t impressed. It flew at Dov before the knife had completed its first circuit.

  “Shit!”

  The thing hit him like a cannonball. The knife went flying as the two went rolling ass over teacup. They rolled down the short slope to the side of the path, clinging to each other like lovers; the demon’s claws locked into the leather jacket protecting Dov’s chest; Dov with his arms crushing the demon to him in a brutal bear hug.

  The demon’s stubby tail whipped against Dov’s legs, bruising his shins, but it wasn’t the tail Dov was worried about. The creature’s jaws were right beside his ears. Its slavering snarls echoed in his brain. It was only the pressure of his arms that kept the demon locked over his left shoulder and unable to sink its sharpened teeth into the young warrior’s neck.