by Jessica Roe
He glanced down at the tattoo on his hand. “Not any more.”
She laughed. It was a deep, throaty sound. “Tamitri and Xantherus do put on quite the show.” She leaned forwards and looked Nicky in the eye. Up close, he could see a ring of violet around her pupils, and little flecks of violet mixed in with her brown irises. “We like our peace here at Yarmac and Bogely's, Nicky. Not all Outcasts do. In fact, I fear that you'll come across many who enjoy chaos and destruction. But I pride myself on providing a safe haven here for those who desire it. And if you are a friend to us, we will be a friend to you.” There was no obvious threat in her words, but it was implied, clear to see right in between the lines. Don't mess with her people, and she wouldn't mess with him.
He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, of course.”
She smiled again, pleased. “I can already tell that you'll be a very valuable addition to the Guardians. And not only because of your special gift.”
AFTER THEY'D LEFT Terelle, Nicky asked Charles what she was. Aside from the purple in her eyes and her strange beauty, she gave no signs that she was different from a regular human.
“She was once a Faerie,” Charles told him as they strolled back through the tents towards the gates.
“Funny.”
“I wasn't trying to be.”
“Oh, come on!” Nicky stopped walking. Man, they just kept throwing it on him. “You're telling me she's a Tinkerbell? Does she fly around throwing glitter on kids?”
“I should warn you now that you wouldn't fare well if you were to mock a Faerie to their face. Not well at all.”
Charles continued onwards, and Nicky scampered after him until they reached the gates. “Seriously? They're like, bad ass?”
“Believe it or not, Faeries are one of the most powerful and deadly creatures on record. We're extremely fortunate that they chose mostly to stay in their own realm. They don't like it here in our world at all. Too much pollution.”
“Whoa! Hold up. There are realms now?”
Charles let out a resigned sigh. “There is so much to teach you.”
Tamitri appeared again to let them out of the gates, and when he exited, a magical feeling washed over Nicky again, only this time in reverse. It began at his toes, and spread up over his body until he could feel it in the roots of his hair. The gates clanged shut behind them, and when he looked back, the grounds looked just as barren and empty as they had when they'd first arrived. It made him sad, even though he knew what was really there. “Crazy,” he muttered to himself.
Zay punched his shoulder and sent him an understanding smile. “You'll get used to it.”
“I doubt it.” He had to jog to catch up with Charles, who was already at the car. “So what did you mean when you said Terelle was a Faerie. Ain't she one now? She lose her magic dust and get kicked out of Neverland?”
When Zay sniggered, Charles sent them both an irked glare. He obviously thought they were both idiots. “Terelle was once a Faerie, but was banished from her realm for committing a serious crime. Her wings were ripped away in punishment and she was sent to live out the rest of her life here in our world. We call her a Fallen Faerie. Not as powerful as a regular Faerie, but still more powerful than most Outcasts.”
“Jesus, they ripped her wings out? What did she do that was so bad?”
“We don't know. And I'm certainly not going to be the one to ask her.”
Nicky got that. Because underneath all that exotic beauty and elegance and softly spoken words was apparently a woman more deadly than almost anything in the world. It had been clear for even him to see that she had a strong undercurrent of authority and deadly protectiveness. He wouldn't ask her anything personal either. “Are there a lot of Fallen Faeries about?” God, he hoped not.
“No. Unless they are very well hidden. Terelle is the sole Fallen Faerie in our world.”
“Oh. I guess that must be lonely for her.”
Charles pondered for a moment, as though he had never thought of it like that before. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”
“SO, THIS PLACE is protected by magic too, right?” Nicky guessed, once they'd arrived back at headquarters—or NYCGD, as Zay and Walker had called it. New York City Guardian Division. He and Charles had settled on the sofas with a couple of beers, and everyone else had retreated to their own rooms to give them some privacy. When Charles nodded, he continued. “And there's one of those illusion things to make it look like there's nothing there? Because there's no other way no one would notice a place this huge.”
Charles seemed pleased. “Very good. You're catching on fast. A quick learner, I like that. But don't forget that although we're a secret organization, we are a section of the Government, so we do have permission to be here. The higher ups know we're here.”
“What about that crazy Italian guy upstairs? Is he a Guardian?”
“Valentino? No, although he is a loyal friend to us. He runs the restaurant upstairs as a cover for headquarters. He's actually an excellent chef. Luckily for us he doesn't aspire to anything grander than his little restaurant.”
“Why didn't I feel any magic when I first came here like I did at Yarmac and Bogely's?”
Charles frowned. “Didn't you read the contract you signed?”
“No.” He shifted uncomfortably under Charles' scrutiny. “It was long and boring and filled with that really small print that no one really reads. Let me guess...signing the contract was the equivalent of getting this dumb tattoo?”
“Without signing the contract, you'd never even have been able to pass the kitchen door.”
“Right,” Nicky said slowly. “So what will my job be? Protecting those guys at Terelle's place?”
“Let me give you a little background. As I've mentioned, the Guardians are a very large organization, and there are many different sectors, providing many different job opportunities. The two main sectors are Tracking and Keeping. Trackers travel the world, hunting down Dark Ones and Strays.” At Nicky's confused look, he explained, “A Dark One is what we call an Outcast who has gone rogue, or an Outcast who is using their abilities for evil. A Stray is what we call magical beings that are more animal than human. Like Xantherus, for example. Not all Strays are dangerous, but the Trackers track down the ones that are.”
“And then they kill them?” That sounded kind of...harsh.
“We aren't monsters, Nicky. We don't just kill all willy nilly.” Nicky was beginning to like Charles' weird English jargon. “We try to avoid killing as much as possible. But sometimes it's the only option when lives are at stake. Protection is our main priority.”
“What about the other ones? The Keepers?”
“Well, that's what we are here. We're Keepers for New York City. Keepers stay in one specific area and work to keep the peace between Outcasts and humans. There are thousands of teams of Keepers all around the world.”
“Oh. So you're like...supernatural cops then?”
Charles cringed at the description. “I suppose it's a little like that, yes.”
“Where's the rest of your team?”
“In their rooms—”
“No, I mean, you must have more people, right? You can't watch over the whole of the city with just this little group.”
“The New York City Guardian Division isn't awarded the same funding that other divisions are,” Charles informed him. His nostrils flared and his voice became frosty—clearly a sore spot. “In fact, we aren't funded nearly enough for what we need to do here. It was a stretch even getting the men up top to agree to hire you.”
“Why?”
Charles pursed his lips so tightly they disappeared into a thin white line. After a moment, he sighed, looking defeated. “There are certain factors in New York City, certain people, who make it impossible for us to do our jobs as thoroughly as we would like. And until we've eradicated these factors, the Elders refuse to offer us any more help. They...look down on us here at the New York City Guardian Division.”
“The Elders are the
guys in charge?”
“Correct.”
“Right. Elders. Not a pretentious name at all. So the NYCGD is like the Glee Club of the Guardians, huh?”
That seemed to amuse Charles. “You could say that.”
“Do the Guardians have divisions in every city in the world?”
“No, only the ones most populated with Outcasts. Most states in North America have only one or two divisions. And then it differs per country.”
Nicky nodded his head, slowly absorbing it all. It was fascinating, all of it. Mind blowing, really. There was a whole world out there—worlds—that people didn't know about it. Creatures, secret organizations, magic. But there was something he wanted to know about more than any of that. “Can we talk about the shadows now?”
“Yes, I wondered how long you'd hold out before finally asking. Before we go into it, are you absolutely sure you're ready for this? It's a lot to take in, and you've already had a very long day. We could start tomorrow?”
“Are you insane? Of course I'm sure! I've needed to know about this for the past twenty years.” Nicky wasn't lying. He had to know, he just had to.
Charles nodded slowly. “Okay. Well, as I mentioned, we call you and others like you Shadow Guides.”
“Which means?”
“Not a lot, unless you know that the shadows are actually the lost souls of the dead.”
Silence.
Charles had word-punched Nicky right in the gut. He sat there for what felt like a very long time, his mouth open. Chills ran down his spine at the implications of Charles' announcement. “So...” he managed to get out eventually. “I see dead people.”
“Are you ever serious?” Charles demanded, huffing at the creepy voice Nicky had used.
“No.” He always came out with stupid crap in crazy situations. It was probably why people were always hitting him.
“You should be.”
“Yeah, I know.” And he did try. Sometimes. Sort of. Every now and then. Okay, well he would start. “So, they're ghosts then, these shadows?”
“Ghosts, spirits, call them what you will. They're the spirits of those who have been unable to pass on. That's why we call them lost.”
“Why can I see them when other people can't?”
“Because it's your purpose to help them find the light so they can make their way to the other side, to wherever they go once their spirits have left this world. It's your destiny.”
Nicky sat back. He felt like he should be freaking out more. About the fact that he saw ghosts, and that he apparently had a destiny—man, Charles had a pompous was of wording things. But it made sense to him. Somewhere deep down inside, maybe in his soul, he knew Charles was telling the truth. He felt it. Just like it had always made sense to him that the shadows—the ghosts—would never hurt him. He'd always known it, instinctively.
“The title of Shadow Guide is always passed down through the family, and is always a male,” Charles explained.
“That can't be right.” Nicky shook his head as he thought it over. “If it was a family thing kind of deal, my folks wouldn't have been so freaked out by me when I was a kid.”
“I doubt they knew about it. From the research we did on you, I understand it was your grandfather on your mother's side who had the gift before you. He also worked with the Guardians, but on more of a part time basis, mostly with the Italian divisions. I doubt your mother ever knew about it. You're grandfather was from a generation when women had a less active roll in combat. When he died, the gift passed on to you. Had he lived longer, he would likely have taught you everything you needed to know before it came to you.”
Nicky nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. It was just after my Grandpappy died that I started seeing the shadows. So what exactly is it about us that makes us able to see them?”
“It's hard to say. Genetics, maybe? DNA, fate, luck? You just have that special difference that makes you extraordinary, like any of the other Outcasts. You have a certain inner light that the spirits are drawn to.”
“Oh, that's...weird. Am I supposed to help them cross over or something? Because I have no idea how to do that. It's not like I know how to talk to them or anything; they speak their own language.”
“You don't need to help them cross over. That's a Reaper's job. But you can guide them in the right direction, show them the way to the Reaper. If you're willing.”
“Sure I'm willing! It sucks that there are dead people who are all lost. I'd hate that. But I still don't know how...and I'm not meeting no creepy ass Reaper.”
“Remember earlier when Cadby read my thoughts and said it would be possible to do the thing I was thinking about?”
“Yuh huh.”
“I was thinking that his abilities would be useful in helping to guide you. He could teach you how to communicate with the shadows, help them. And when you become more skilled, you'll be able to learn to ask for their help before they pass on.”
That sounded interesting. “How so?”
“In the most extreme cases, they could draw off your energy and fight for you.”
“Draw off my energy? Wouldn't that kill me?”
“No. But it would probably tire you out for a few days, so you wouldn't want to do it often. But there are other things you can do. Imagine how many places a shadowy figure could blend in to. The things it could tell us.”
Nicky was impressed. He'd never thought of it like that before. He couldn't imagine actually being able to communicate with the shadows, but if he could...he could be pretty damned powerful. He was beginning to understand why Charles and the team had done all they had to get him on board. It made him feel good. Useful. Worth something for the first time in his life.
“I'll call Cadby and schedule your lessons,” Charles said. “How are you feeling about everything? I understand that it's been an exciting day for you, to say the least.”
“Yeah. I'm feeling...overwhelmed. But there's also a big part of me that is so relieved. And grateful. Because for the first time since I was a kid, I don't feel like a crazy person. But still...yeah, I'm overwhelmed.”
“It's very hard for people like you who have had this life thrust upon them so suddenly. Most Guardians are brought up knowing about Outcasts They usually have one or both parents who are Guardians, and they go on to a special training school when they turn sixteen. But there have been a few cases, like yours, when they are hired as an adult. In those cases, the Guardians are required to take an eight week crash training course. The next course starts in six weeks, so until then, you'll be doing on the job training. Does that sound okay to you?”
Nicky nodded. They talked a little while longer, and then Charles showed him to his room. It was simple enough. A bed, a desk, a wardrobe. The walls were painted white and lined with blue, and like in the other rooms, a large painting hung on the wall instead of a window. The painting in Nicky's room showed the rocky tips of a cliff, and the vast, purple night sky in the background. A dragon sat on one of the tips, breathing fire. Nearby on another tip sat a gargoyle, looking thoroughly unamused. Nicky liked it, though he wished they were above ground so that he could see the outside world. He'd spent enough time in prison wishing for daylight.
Charles promised that they could collect the rest of Nicky's belongings the next day, and then he smiled at him, full of warmth. “Welcome to the Guardians,” he said, before squeezing his shoulder and leaving him alone.
Nicky quickly used the shower down the hall and hurried back to his room. The wardrobe was already filled with clothes his size.
“'Cause that's not creepy,” he muttered, pulling on a pair of shorts. Most of it was crap he'd never wear anyway; it was more the posh, preppy kind of garb Zay probably wore. He couldn't wait to get his own things back from Hadley's place.
He flopped down on to the bed. It was comfortable enough, but he'd never in a million years be able to get to sleep with all the insane stuff that had gone down. His mind was buzzing. He had a job, and a new
home, and a purpose! He'd never had a purpose before, not even a little one. He'd never imagined having one, especially not one that was passed down through generations and came with it's own box of magic tricks. And talking of magic...magic! Magic was real! He'd seen it with his own two eyes and it was stupidly cool, and scary, and amazing. He'd met a Faerie. And shook the hand of a shapeshifting dog guy. And been attacked by sparkles.
Yeah, he wasn't getting any sleep.
Not sleep at all.
He was snoring within seconds.
“THANKS FOR THE ride, man,” Nicky said to Zay the next morning as they pulled up outside Hadley's apartment block. “I don't have much stuff; this won't take long.”
“Don't worry about it. Got nothing else planned today anyway. We'll have to get you driving soon, though. Have you ever driven at all?” Zay asked distractedly, watching the ass of a smoking hot chick strolling past on the side-walk.
“I had a motorbike when I was in high school. But I pawned it when I moved to the city when—”
“—you were eighteen,” Zay finished.
Nicky shook his head and sighed. “It's weird when you guys do that.”
“BUDDY!” HADLEY EXCLAIMED when he threw open his front door. “Where'd you stay last night? You had me almost worried when you didn't call.” For an aspiring rock star, Hadley was surprisingly sensible and level headed. He eyed Zay warily when he followed Nicky inside.
“Sorry I left you hanging,” Nicky answered. “But it's cool. I'm cool. I actually got a new job, a place to stay too. I came by to pick up my things so I can get outta your hair.”
“Hey, it's been great having you around!” Hadley protested, leading them into the living room. “But that's great about the job, I'm glad for you. What're you doing?”
“Oh, uh...” I'm working for a secret organization that deals with magic monsters. And I see dead people. He really should have thought of a cover up story before arriving. “I guess I'm...”
“He works for me,” Zay spoke up without a waver in his voice, confident and believable. “He's my bodyguard.”