Guardian's Joy #3

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  They stopped their tumble with Dov on the bottom of the death grip embrace. He was larger than the demon, outweighed it by fifty pounds, yet he couldn’t throw it off. The thing rode him like some sci-fi cowboy.

  “Roll,” Nico instructed from a few feet away.

  “Roll? Just stab the fucking thing and get it off me!”

  “Roll to the left. Use your body and its tail to lever it from your shoulder.”

  Dov did as he was told, because he had no other choice. Fucking Nico wasn’t going to soil his fancy shoes. The demon was listening too and struggled to correct its position, but because of the tail, the demon couldn’t follow the roll and its hold on Dov’s chest broke. This gave Dov the moment’s relief he needed to gain his feet and grab the tactical knife he kept secured at his ankle. He barely had time to draw the weapon from its sheath before the thing was on him again, all teeth and claws.

  Fuck! The thing was fast. Dov darted to the side and lost a chunk of sleeve in the process. He circled, lunged at the chest and caught the demon’s arm with his blade. He kept slashing and the demon kept dodging and countering with its own deadly claws. Dov’s jacket was in tatters, but the demon was bleeding badly and weakening. Where the hell was Nico?

  Nico watched as the demon spun away from yet another of the trainee’s attacks. Dov finally caught it from behind, about a dozen moves after he should have, and slit its throat. He let the demon fall on its face and finished the job of removing its head. Nico stepped back to avoid the blood spatter. The boy looked at him, breathing heavily and eyes blazing with anger.

  “What the fuck was that all about? Were you going to stand there and watch me get killed?”

  “If you were killed, the fault would be yours, not mine.” Nico had no sympathy. “You chose to be an ass and suffered for it.” He brushed the sleeves of his leather duster and straightened the lamb’s wool scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into the vee of his lapels.

  “How is this my fault? I didn’t ask the frickin’ thing to cling like a leach.” Dov watched the last of the demon shrivel into dust. He kicked up a cloud of it. “Nasty little fucker.”

  “Yes, you did ask. You engaged it in a face-off. You wanted to play instead of taking care of business. You should have come up on it from behind and ended it quickly. This is not a game, Dov ad Willem. We do not kill for fun or place ourselves or our partners in unnecessary danger. If you don’t learn this lesson, you will die and you will die without the black skull upon your chest. You will never become a Guardian.”

  Nico reached out his hand to pull the red-faced trainee up the last step. “Fate took my youth. I don’t want you to give up yours, but when it comes to this,” he gestured to the demon remains, “You must set your youth aside and act like the man I have seen inside you. You more than others know that lives depend on it.” He clapped the young man on the back. “Come. I would not have let you die, my friend. Grace and Hope would never forgive me.”

  *****

  Canaan came through the door and went directly to the family room without acknowledging anyone in the kitchen.

  “Oh, oh,” was all Grace said when she didn’t receive her usual hello kiss. The look on Canaan’s face was enough to tell her that now was not a good time to protest his neglect.

  Col, following behind, stopped to explain. “There was another killing only the cops got there first. We saw the flashing lights and headed over to investigate, heard some guy in the crowd talking about the body being bitten and drained. So we went around the corner and white lighted where no one would see us and headed back to the scene. The guy was right. She’d been bitten. No demon stench, no nothing. Not much blood either.” He pointed in the direction Canaan had gone. “He wants to see if it hit the news yet. I tried telling him it was too soon, but you know the boss.”

  Broadbent turned to Grace’s radio, slipping the dial to an all-news station while Hope headed to her office to see what could be found on the internet.

  “Damage control?” Broadbent asked.

  “Canaan did what he could with the crowd and I took care of the mouth, but you can’t make something like that go away.” Col shrugged. “Too many people coming and going. Too many cops and it had already gone out over the radio. They had the place roped off. Detectives, technicians, coroner came while we were there.”

  Broadbent nodded in understanding. “I believe we’ll need Nardo’s expertise in this. We’ll need police reports and the coroner’s autopsy results. It might take some time before those things are available, but I imagine the authorities will find this death unique enough to insure it has priority status.”

  “The victim, Col, who was she?” Grace asked.

  Canaan answered from the doorway, “Human female. I’d say late teens, early twenties. We don’t have a name.” He looked from face to face around the room. “We’ll wait for Nico and Dov to come in, get some supper and meet in the War Room.” He turned to Grace. “Is Otto eating here or home tonight?”

  “Here. They’ll be over any minute.”

  “Good. I want Otto in on this.”

  “In on what?” The question came from both sides of the room as Otto came in one door and Nardo entered through the other. The door in the pantry clicked open revealing Nico and Dov before Canaan had a chance to answer. Everyone started talking at once until Grace banged on the counter with a wooden spoon.

  “Everyone go wash up and give me ten minutes to set up. You can serve yourselves and take it to the War Room. Hope, Manon and I will take ours upstairs to the Rose Room. It’s time we got acquainted with our guest.”

  Ten minutes turned into twenty, but the men were finally ensconced in the War Room and the women, with loaded trays, headed for JJ’s room.

  “We’ve been kicked out of the big pow-wow downstairs so we decided to come visit you,” Grace said after knocking. “We have food, wine and chocolate. Care to join us?” She set down the tray and took a corkscrew from her back pocket. “I’ve heard that red wine is good for the blood.”

  “Grace, don’t tempt. The child has been ill and she should not take too much, too soon,” the Frenchwoman admonished.

  “I tried telling Nardo the same thing at lunch,” Grace laughed. “He didn’t listen and apparently I was wrong. The ‘child’ could put Dov to shame.”

  Here it comes, JJ thought. How can you be so skinny? Where do you put it? You can’t eat like that all the time. And then there’d be the subtle hints about drugs or bulimia or whatever.

  “Ah, c’est bon. You were wasting away. A woman must eat to keep up her strength, non? Pour her a glass to go with her meal.” She snapped out her napkin and winked.

  1960. Sophia Loren before she dieted away that lusty figure. That’s all JJ could think as she took in the older woman standing at the foot of the bed. This woman had white hair and was a few years older than the Loren in those films. Otherwise they might be twins.

  “I am Manon. We have been intimately acquainted over the last few days, but we have yet to be introduced,” she laughed.

  JJ flushed crimson and lowered her eyes. “I’m JJ and thanks. Sorry to put you out like that.”

  “It is of little matter. We do what we can for each other.” Manon smiled reassuringly. “You would do the same for one of us.”

  JJ wasn’t so sure about that and she felt a little ashamed.

  “I thought your name was Joy,” said Grace, as she passed around the glasses. “Did I miss something?”

  JJ sighed. “My legal name is Joy Justice, but everyone calls me JJ. It’s what I prefer.”

  “And you’re a cop?” Grace asked.

  “Yeah, or I used to be.” JJ sighed again. “And I’ve heard all the jokes about the name.”

  “I was just asking.” Grace laughed in chagrin and began to remove the covers from the dinner plates. She opened the legs on one of the trays and carried it to the bed, settling it across JJ’s lap. “Manon, you can have the chair. Hope and I can share the bed with JJ.”

>   “I think we will have one more.” Manon pointed to the door and the soft, coaxing voice coming from the hall.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. There’s no one here to hurt you.”

  “Hope’s sister, Faith,” Grace whispered, “She was held captive by a demon and her mind is damaged. She’s much better than she was, but she’s still afraid to leave her room.”

  The woman Hope led into the room was a tiny, birdlike creature who looked so frail, JJ felt like a charlatan for being the one in bed. A three inch scar, puckered and red, marred one pale cheek and her eyes looked sunken and vacant. Her one attractive feature was her hair. Soft, dark, golden curls fell to her shoulders and bounced luxuriantly when she shook her head.

  In contrast, JJ judged Hope to be about six feet tall. Big bust, narrow waist and a good set of hips; she was a curvier version of Manon, but where the older woman was fashionably and expensively dressed, Hope wore a long denim skirt and an oversized sweater that had both seen better days. Her nails, however, were long, well-manicured and polished bright red.

  Hope almost dragged her sister into the room and forcibly held her in place while she identified each person. Contrary to her body language, Hope’s voice was soft and pleasant.

  “Faith, come on now. You know Manon. She’s been to visit you many times and of course, you know Grace. The woman in the bed is new. Her name is…”

  “JJ. Her name is JJ,” Grace cut in.

  “Yes, her name is JJ and she’s been hurt. She’s all right now, but she has to stay in bed for a while. I wanted you to meet her. She’s like us, you know. She’ll be kind to you, but for now, she needs our help.”

  Faith stopped struggling and turned toward JJ and JJ was overwhelmed with compassion and pity. At first, she thought the young woman was blind. Her eyes were totally blank and her face showed no emotion at all. She stared at or through JJ for a moment and then moved up beside the bed. JJ held perfectly still.

  “This is new,” Hope whispered.

  Tentatively, her hand shaking as if from palsy, Faith reached out and touched JJ’s hair. It rested there for a long moment and then began to stroke while she quietly hissed strange sounds that were oddly comforting. JJ felt a strange tingling throughout her body and was about to comment on it when Faith broke contact. The tingle lingered at the back of JJ’s head where Grace had said her concussion was centered.

  “Thank you,” JJ whispered. “I feel much better.”

  Though her face showed no emotion, a tear formed in the corner of the young woman’s eye as she pulled her hand to her chest and walked silently to the closed door where she stood facing it, still staring vacantly. With an evident effort of control, Hope went to her sister and put her arm around her shoulder.

  “All right, sweetheart, you can go back now. You did really well.” And she led Faith out the door.

  “Holy crap,” Grace whispered as she and Manon released the breath they’d been holding. She emptied her glass. “I don’t know what just happened, but I hope it happens again. She’s never reacted to anyone except Hope since we brought her home. She lets Hope touch her, sometimes Manon, but the rest of us can’t and she never makes the first move. She does what she’s told and that’s it, like a robot,” she said as she began to bustle about serving food and drink.

  Hope came back into the room, closed the door and leaned her back against it.

  “God be praised,” she whispered. “I’ve prayed and prayed for some kind of sign. I thought she was gone, but she’s in there somewhere, isn’t she? We only have to find her.”

  “She is there, Hope. We have seen the proof. Perhaps it is because JJ is bedridden and hurt. Did we not think Faith tried to help the others? This may be what she needs, to help one that will survive.”

  “Oh, Manon, do you think that’s the key?”

  Manon gave her a shrug only a Frenchwoman could. “It cannot hurt her.” She turned to JJ. “Would you mind if she came again?”

  “I won’t be here that long, but if you think it’ll help, sure.” While she ate, she looked at Hope curiously. “I know you from somewhere,” she said and then recognition dawned. “It was the night you rescued your sister. You were on the street, huddled in the doorway when my partner and I showed up. We were coming back from a bust on the other side of town.”

  “I knew you looked familiar. You’re the police officer. I see it now. You changed your hair.” Hope wiped her eyes and laughed. “It’s much shorter now.”

  “You remember my hair?”

  “You had beautiful hair. The light from the streetlamp was behind you and it looked like a halo, like you were an angel. Some things stand out from that night. Other things are a blur. You stood out. I always wanted to thank you.” Hope laughed again. “I worried for weeks about mentioning the demon, but you already knew about them, didn’t you, and you knew about me, too.”

  “Yeah, and after I touched you I was positive. You’re a witch.” It was also the night of her first spontaneous memory. She took another forkful of food and another. “This,” she said and pointed at the pork chops on her plate with her fork, “Is heaven. This is what real food tastes like, isn’t it?” JJ lived on take-out.

  “Not exactly a witch. We are something much more. As are you. You’re a Daughter of Man,” said Manon.

  Grace tipped the wine bottle over her glass and frowned at the drips. “We need more wine. Let me run down and get some.”

  “The apartment’s closer. Nico always keeps a few bottles,” Hope offered.

  JJ’s throat closed and her heart began to pound. She could feel the sweat forming on her forehead. Grace rushed to her side.

  “JJ? What’s wrong?”

  JJ waved her away. “It’s okay,” she said, though she didn’t know what caused the flash of panic. “Do you all live here together? Is this like a…” The word stuck in her throat and she covered with a cough, “Sorry, commune or something and what the hell is a Daughter of Man?”

  “Yes, we all live here together, but no, it’s not a commune. It’s a House of Guardians and Canaan is Liege Lord here,” Grace went on, “Until I came, women weren’t allowed to live in a House of Guardians. When I first came here - the twins brought me home, too, by the way - Canaan only had the two boys and Uncle Otto. Uncle Otto introduced me to his mate, Manon, who pretty much saved my life.” Grace smiled and nodded at her benefactor.

  “Otto and Manon bought the house across the alley from here and moved in although they eat dinner here almost every night. Then Broadbent, Nardo and Nico came and then the twins brought Hope home and she and Nico fell in love and mated and now they’ve bought the house next door to Manon and we’ve expanded this one to include the house next door to this one so the men aren’t underfoot all the time.”

  Hope returned with the wine just as JJ raised her hands for Grace to stop. As a cop, she was used to this; people giving too much information about things she didn’t need to know.

  “Begin at the beginning. What is a House of Guardians?”

  Chapter 13

  Grace opened another bottle of wine and poured refills for them all, even for Hope who usually refused a second glass, never mind a third. “Tell her our story, Manon, and tell her how it differs from the Paenitentia legend. She needs to know that before she hears about the Guardians.”

  Manon settled herself in the chair and sipped her wine while the others settled against the pillows at the head of the bed and waited quietly for her to begin.

  “When humanity was in its childhood,” she said quietly as if she was telling them a bedtime story, “God sent a sect of his Servants, angels some say, to instruct those humans in righteousness. According to our beliefs, the Servants became fascinated by the beauty and comeliness of the Daughters of Man. This fascination soon turned to lust. In order to lure the women away from their families, the Servants gave the Daughters gifts of abilities beyond the realm of man. The women were beguiled by these gifts, seduced by the Servants who appeared as men, and w
ere taken as wives. In the fullness of time the Daughters bore the fruits of their seduction. Their sons were called Nephilim. They were giants of great power and glory, renowned for their great appetites for all things of pleasure and the traits of the fathers were passed to the sons.

  “So it was for the women also, their gifts being passed from mother to daughter so that the lineage of the mix of Servant and woman continued and the Daughters of Man became a race unto themselves.

  “Time passed and the Nephilim lost their way. They abused their power, took pleasure in pain and torment and began to feed on the blood of humans. The Daughters who loved them and had been faithful to them were forsaken. God sent Gabriel to make war upon them and the Great Flood reduced them further.

  “Under threat of annihilation, the Paenitentia were born. They saw the Daughters of Man as the source of their downfall and renounced them, severing all ties.

  “The Daughters of Man quietly continued, suffering the indignities of persecution, making their way as best they could, passing the gifts and knowledge down from one generation to the next, Daughter to Daughter. They no longer bore sons.

  “They were forced to live the lives of humans in the human world and learned to adapt to maintain their anonymity. As we do today. We are their descendants.”

  Manon pointed to each of the women in the room and then to herself. “We are Daughters of Man.”

  “The Paenitentia see it differently,” she continued, “They believe that they were seduced by the Daughters of Man and betrayed into giving them the secrets of magicks. They believe that had they never mated with us, they would never have fallen from grace and suffered the wrath and curses of God.”

  JJ took a few minutes to think it over. Each time they answered one of her questions, she found six more. “So if these guys are Paenitentia, how did they end up with you?”