“How sad it all looks,” sighed Grace. “I would like to have seen it when it was alive and well; ladies with their children strolling to the park to play and visit with friends, gentlemen arriving home from the office in fine automobiles, lights shining in welcome. It must have seemed like heaven to someone like me with no money or family. It must have been beautiful.”
“It was beautiful. We moved the House of Guardians here in 1910.” Otto laughed at the memory. “We were the wealthy eccentrics of the neighborhood. We led an active evening social life but were rarely seen in the day.” Grace felt his shoulder shrug. “All right, we were never seen in the day, but we altered a memory here and there. It was enough back then to keep us safe. Then the wars came, things changed, humans moved on and more moved in until gradually it came to this. There are pictures somewhere up in the attic. I can dig them out for you if you like.”
At the corner, they crossed the street and turned left.
“Thanks, Uncle Otto, I’d like that.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “It’s funny, but before I came here, I didn’t spend that much time outside, just enough to get me to work and home again. If I could have found a way to avoid going out that much I would have. Lately, it’s all I think about. Weird, huh?”
“Choice,” said Otto. “They took away your choice. One of those simple things you take for granted until it’s gone.” He patted her hand affectionately.
They were halfway down the block when they came to a great rusted iron arch, decorated with delicately wrought vines and the acanthi leaves so popular to the period. It arose high over the entrance with the words spelled out in ornate letters declaring this to be Hayden Park. The park, like its entrance was old and worn. Little remained of its former glory. Basketball courts, asphalt cracked and weed choked, sat to the right. Broken backboards with twisted baskets still clung to their rusted poles. The frames of former swing sets sat further back beyond the courts. Once upon a time, a fountain had played its water music at the center of the park. A pile of rubble was all that remained. A half a dozen cement picnic tables, the kind that couldn’t be broken or carted away, sat off to the left. When they reached them, Grace hoisted herself up to a tabletop while Otto sat on the bench.
“Tell me, Grace, why did you live like that? Why would someone like you lock yourself away?”
The darkness of the park made it easier to whisper secrets. “Because of the buzzing in my head.” She waited for a question or comment. When none came, she continued. “When I’m around people, humans, I know what they’re feeling – in my head. I call it a buzz because that’s the closest I can get to describing it. If I’m around too many people, the buzzing gets too loud, like white noise or something. And the ones that are really angry or violent, they make my head feel like it’s ripping apart.”
“How long has this been happening?” Otto asked mildly.
Grace thought for a moment. “I’ve always thought of it as my entire life, but it only seems that way. I think I was eleven or twelve when it started. It wasn’t bad, at first, just a little tingle now and then. By the time I was in High School, it was terrible and if I didn’t get enough sleep or enough time away from people, it was unbearable. I stayed away from people as much as I could. I found a job where I worked alone. Then I met Col and Dov and I felt nothing from them, absolutely nothing and it was wonderful. Even you,” she gave a little laugh, “when the thirst took over. I saw it in your face, but I didn’t feel it in my head.”
Uncle Otto laughed a little himself. “Be grateful for small blessings, eh? So, you were a young teen when the buzzing started. How old were you when you noticed your ability to influence people with your mind?”
Grace shook her head in denial. “Uncle Otto, if I was capable of using some kind of mind manipulation, I would have made some of those foster families like me more. I would have made them find me another job.” She would make Canaan stop driving her crazy. She’d make him do more than talk over coffee. “I can’t make anyone do anything. I never could.”
“I believe you can and have.” Uncle Otto raised his hand to forestall her protest. “Listen to me. When the thirst is on me, I hurt people. Since I was turned, I’m not as strong as I once was, the aging process takes its toll, but when the thirst is on me, I become stronger and the stronger the craving the stronger and more violent I become. God forgive me, Grace, but when you found me that way, I should have killed you, would have killed you had you not stopped me. ‘Don’t hurt me,’ you said, ‘You don’t want to hurt me.’ And I didn’t want to hurt you. It gave me the strength not to hurt you. According to Dov, you did something similar to him although he doesn’t realize the implications. Grace, members of the Race have much stronger psyches than humans. Admittedly, neither the twins nor I are at our peak powers. They’re too young. I’m too old. Never the less, we should be beyond the influence of any mere human. I think it’s all connected; the buzzing in your head, the influence, Dov unable to erase your memory, your ability to see demons…”
“Canaan couldn’t do it either, the erasing thing. He didn’t believe Dov, thought it was an excuse to bring me home. He tried it that first evening. Twice.” She snickered at the memory. “He seemed a little,” she hesitated, “upset by it.”
Otto sucked in his cheeks. “Oh, I bet he was.” He shook his head. “Canaan is the best of us when it comes to this. He can erase a room full of humans with the flick of his wrist. Hell, he could probably erase a room full of members if he chose to and then along comes our little human housekeeper and poof! Nothing.” He laughed. “Ah, Grace, you’re good for us all.”
“How is that good for Canaan?”
“That’s a story for another time.” He offered Grace his hand and helped her from the table. “It’s time to head back.”
They strolled back to the house enjoying the quiet of the night. As they reached the alley that led to the gym door, Otto stopped and looked up at the night sky.
“Grace, do you know anything, anything at all about your parents?”
“Nothing. Someone dropped me off at a church when I was around two. I vaguely remember a woman with dark hair and a green chair with flowers on the upholstery. I’m not really sure if that’s a memory or something I made up as a kid. I used to think a lot about it when I was little. You know, why didn’t anyone want me?
“Then the buzzing started and I figured whoever my mother was, she probably knew something was wrong with me. I mean mothers are supposed to know those things, right? She didn’t want to deal with it. Can’t say that I blame her.” Grace shrugged to hide the hurt she’d never admit to. “Once I understood her reason, I stopped thinking about it so much. It was almost a relief, really. I hardly ever think about it now.”
Uncle Otto put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her tight.
Chapter 13
Something had to be done about Grace. Canaan had been coming downstairs for an early cup of coffee every waking since he’d become Liege Lord. It was relaxing and it helped him get his thoughts in order before the night began. He’d thought, at first, that Grace’s presence would be an unwanted intrusion into his routine, but he found he looked forward to it. The way she busied herself around the kitchen, quietly and efficiently, producing what was often the largest meal of the day was somehow more relaxing than that lonely cup of coffee of the past. He liked the sound of her voice as she told him some simple story of what she’d done the night before. He liked the way she listened when he spoke of the problems facing the Guardians and the frustrations he felt at the indifference of the Council. Her questions were thoughtful and intelligent and he answered them even while he knew he shouldn’t.
And, he confessed, he liked watching her; the way her hips swayed to whatever music she had playing in the background; the way she tilted her head, her curls falling to the side, exposing her long graceful neck as she considered something he’d said; the way her full breasts moved beneath and stretched taut the fabric of her shirt, and her lips, soft and fu
ll and made for kissing. He liked the way they moved when she spoke, the way they smiled or pouted. He wondered what those lips would feel like beneath his, but he would never know. It wouldn’t come to that. He wouldn’t let it. She wasn’t meant for a one night stand or a friend with benefits and that was all he would ever allow himself.
She couldn’t stay here. Not even as a housekeeper.
Times changed and he knew the Guardian Houses had to change with them, but that didn’t mean all their traditions should be tossed away. The one against women made sense and Canaan wouldn’t be the one to see it fall. He needed to stand firm o this.
There was no place for Grace in this House. She would have to go. He would have to find the words.
Canaan headed down the stairs to do what needed to be done.
*****
Abyar kept his back to the door when the knock sounded. He waited to see if the fool had learned his lesson from the day before. The door opened and the entrant spoke.
“Hey, Abyar…”
It was not the fool from the day before. This was another one. It seemed he was surrounded by them. He said through gritted teeth,” How many times must I tell you, Tyn?”
“Hey, I knocked didn’t I? You want to hear what I got or not?”
Abyar felt his human mask slipping and he fought for control. How would he ever accomplish his goals if all he had to work with were fools and degenerates? He took a deep breath.
“At least change your appearance.”
The demon in front of him snarled. His head began to shrink as a nose began to take shape in the space between his beady snake’s eyes. His skin changed from mottled red scales to pale human flesh. His arms shortened and claws became nails, dirty and torn, but nails none the less. The flesh under his feet and legs moved as if something crawled beneath his skin until at last he stood as a poorly dressed and incredibly filthy human.
“Don’t see why we have to do this. It ain’t like anyone’s going to see us here.”
“Practice, you idiot. If you ever want to live above, you’ll need to hold that form indefinitely. You’ll have to blend in.” Abyar wrinkled his nose. “And you’ll have to learn to bathe regularly as well. Humans in this part of their world are generally clean. They’ll be offended by your odor.” He shrugged. “Or the damned Guardians will find you. What good will you be then?”
“I thought you had that taken care of, though it didn’t help the last two much.” Tyn ground his pinky into his ear, found what he was mining for, looked at it and wiped it on his pants.
Abyar rubbed his temples and tried to sooth away the headache that was beginning to form. He’d worked for months to turn a ragtag bunch of lowlife demons into something that might resemble a human crew. Tyn was one of the best and look at him. They would have to work harder.
“You’ve made my point. It isn’t perfected yet and it can only do so much. It helps to mask the smell. It doesn’t cure stupidity.” He brushed imaginary dust from his immaculate lapels. “Enough of this. What do you have for me?”
“I think we got us a live one playing with an old Ouija Board. She’s got the right attitude.”
At last, some hopeful news. Abyar poured himself a glass of wine, thought about it, and then poured another for Tyn. “Good work. Bring her along slowly. We don’t want to scare her off. When she’s ready, I’ll take over.” He raised his glass. “To us, Tyn. This may be the beginning of a whole new world.”
*****
Grace wanted so badly to sleep, but her mind was wound tight with an anxiety she couldn’t define. The cotton sheet felt heavy and confining, the pillow too warm and hard. She tossed and turned, unable to find that one comfortable position that would bring her peace. Finally, when desperation was at its peak and for no discernible reason, she relaxed, and though she wasn’t asleep, the dream was there in an instant. It was vivid. It was real. It was what she saw every waking. It was Canaan.
Every waking, Canaan sauntered into the kitchen shirtless in his unbuttoned jeans and bare feet, flaunting that mesmerizing tattoo and that golden armband in the most unsubtle of ways.
He would brush imaginary muffin crumbs from those hard rectangles of muscles at his chest and when he was sure she was looking, he’d make one of them jump and one side of his mouth would curl in a sly half grin when she jumped, too. He’d lean back in his chair; stretch his arms over his head, his legs out in front with an exaggerated yawn, knowing she’d have to take note of the long well muscled lines of his body. And the worst, the very worst was the belly scratch where he’d arch his back and run the tips of his fingers up and down over the washboard of his abdomen always ending at the unbuttoned edge of his jeans.
“Oh, for God’s sake, go put some clothes on,” she’d said once. She’d tried to sound as she did when scolding Dov.
“What?” he’d asked trying to look puzzled. “Can’t a man take a few minutes to wake up in his own kitchen? I’ll be dressed by breakfast.”
And damn him, he always was. Five minutes before the others appeared, he’d saunter out. In twenty minutes he’d be back, freshly showered and shaved, talking to the others as if their time together never happened.
All of this was played back to her in the dream and when it was over, she was wide awake and completely refreshed. She had a plan. It was time to fight fire with fire. Grace didn’t have any experience with men, but it was as if she had some innate knowledge of what needed to be done. Maybe it was all those romances she’d read or the chick flicks she’d watched or maybe she’d learned it from Alice, fun and sexy Alice who knew how to use what she had to draw the male eye. It didn’t matter where the knowledge came from, only that it was there and she was ready to use it.
Grace went through a dozen tee shirts including a few borrowed from the twins and Otto until she found one that was perfect. In front of the mirror, she practiced bending, leaning and raising her arms, learning just how far she could move without showing too much. She wore her one and only thong, a gift from Alice, underneath. She brushed out her hair, then bent from the waist and shook it into a controlled dishevelment. Leaving her feet bare, she headed for the kitchen.
She felt him before she heard him; some cosmic vibration that emanated from him and broadcast his appearance each afternoon at waking. A compression wave that pounded along an invisible thread to hammer into the very core of her, sending pulses of passion and sex along every nervous pathway in her body; causing her heart to race, her breathing to become shallow and her skin to tingle with gooseflesh in anticipation of his arrival.
She smelled him before she saw him. The scent of him, leather mixed with pine, wafted through the kitchen and enveloped her, blanketing her with warmth. She inhaled, taking the aroma deep inside of her where it belonged; deep inside of her where he belonged. She felt the heat spread from her face to the places where her thoughts were leading and kept her back to him until her blush subsided.
“Good waking,” she said in greeting, pleased that there was no tremor in her voice.
“Good wak….Holy hell,” he said. Canaan had felt the siren’s call before when Grace was fully clothed in baggy shorts and a sweatshirt, but the temptation was never so great that he couldn’t maintain his calm and control. But this? What was the woman wearing? What did she think she was doing? And how was a man supposed to resist this? He was a man of discipline, not a saint and the blood of the Nephilim ran strong in his veins.
The plain gray tee shirt skimmed down that hot little body and ended just at the delicate crease where legs met luscious ass. It stretched across her shoulders, clung to the indent of her tiny waist and flared over the gentle swell of her hips. He could see nothing, but imagine everything. He felt himself swell and harden.
She reached for the pot even as she asked if he was ready for his coffee. The right side of the tee rose along with her arm; just enough for him to catch a glimpse of a crescent of the lovely round moon that was her bottom and his cock bulged uncomfortably against the zipper of his
jeans.
“Thanks,” he croaked when she leaned across the island to pass him the mug. The lids of her smoky gray eyes closed and opened slowly. Her unbound breasts swayed enticingly beneath the thin cotton of her shirt. A half smile played on her lips.
He tore his gaze from her mouth and breasts and was drawn to follow the line of her back only to be confronted with the bottom edge of the gray tee riding along the ridge of her raised rump. He couldn’t see beyond that beckoning edge, but he didn’t have to. His imagination had already provided the view and his erection was at the point of pain.
Canaan sat abruptly, took a hefty gulp of his coffee to hide his discomfiture and hissed as the scorching liquid flowed over his tongue. It did nothing to abate the fire down below.
“Holy fucking hell,” he groaned.
Grace hurried to his side and pressed against him. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Her breasts rested above his shoulders. He had only to turn his head. He rolled his eyes and groaned again. She stepped away and he broke, wanted her, reached for her and grabbed nothing but air, saw only the back of her as she fled from the kitchen with a whimper of pain.
Canaan sat back in his chair and stared across the kitchen at nothing. What the hell just happened?
“What did you say to her?” Otto roared into the kitchen. “I saw her door slam and she’s in there crying. What did you do to her? If you hurt her, Canaan, so help me, it won’t matter that you’re my Liege Lord, I’ll fucking rip you apart.” His face hardened. His fangs flared.
“Back off, old man.” Canaan was on his feet, responding with anger of his own. “I didn’t do a damn thing to her. I didn’t say a damn thing to her. I didn’t make a move. She was the one doing all the moving. She was…” He swallowed hard. Breathtaking. “Never mind what she was. I don’t know what she was, but she wasn’t the woman I’ve been waking to every afternoon. I came in to get my coffee and there she was, standing there in a… never mind what she was wearing and then she smiled and she poured my coffee and… never mind what she did. I drank my coffee. It was hot. I burned my tongue. She came over and she… No! I won’t say what she did.” His arms were flailing in descriptive gestures. He was babbling. The woman was making him babble like an idiot. He sat down again and shook his head. “Holy fucking hell, Otto, I don’t know what just happened, but it wasn’t my fault.”
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