Undone (The Guardians Book 1)

by Jessica Roe

  “Not that it's any excuse,” added Zay, rolling his eyes at Queenie.

  Charles nodded. “But Felicity has a point. This whole terrible scheme is less likely about the money, and more about the carnage and havoc it would cause. It would amuse him greatly to watch people take the power he'd given them to start wars.” He lowered his head, suddenly looking very tired, and for the first time, Nicky noticed the first few strands of grey hair dusting Charle's temple. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “Imagine a vast army of all powerful Dark Ones. The first people they'd target would be Guardians everywhere. And without they Guardians, who would protect the rest of the humans? The world would be in chaos and the Guardians would never recover.”

  “Then we need to call the Guardian Elders, right?” Nicky urged. “Get them on it. They can get the troops together or something, take Pablo down.”

  “Take Pablo down how? He's an Immortal,” Walker pointed out.

  “I'll call the Elders,” Charles said. “although I'm not sure what good it will do at this point. They are unlikely to act without solid proof, and they've already proven that they aren't willing to risk going to war just for New York City. I'd say for now, it's just us.”

  Nicky frowned. “That blows.” He could tell he wasn't the only one who thought so.

  “Can you tell us where the prison is?” Charles asked Heidi. “If we had a solid location, the Elders would have to take action.”

  She shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. When Pablo realized I was getting a read off him, he pulled away lightening fast and called for his bodyguards. I don't know what he planned to do with me, but he looked seriously pissed off. I don't think he even cared that we were in public.” She chewed nervously on her thumbnail. “I threw hot coffee in his face before he could tell them to come after me and I ran. I think I only got away because of all the commotion, and I was fast and I know the streets well. I evaded his men, grabbed Becky from the sitter and called you.” She was visibly trembling when she said, “Charles, I'm so afraid of what he'll do if he finds us.”

  He took her hands in his and rubbed her fingers softly. “Do not fear, Heidi, I shan't let anyone harm you. You or Becky.” His gaze upon hers as he spoke was so intimate that Nicky was almost tempted to look away. There were some definite vibes between Charles and Heidi, and he wondered whether they really were just old friends or if Charles had ever hit that. Good on him, if he had. Heidi was a milf of the best kind. A year or two younger than Charles, with bouncy blonde hair and a curvy figure and very kind eyes. She wore no wedding ring and she hadn't included Becky's dad in her escape plans, so either she was single and the guy wasn't around, or he was a douche of epic proportions. Nicky would have put money on the first option. Either way, if Charles and Heidi weren't 'special friends' already, he'd bet a hundred bucks that they would be before the week was out. “We'll get you secure passage out of the city and a safe place to live where Pablo won't find you,” Charles continued. “I have some contacts who would be happy to help. Until then, you'll stay here with us. You're safe here.”

  Heidi nodded gratefully and rested her head on Charles' shoulder.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Nicky saw Zay grimace and he grinned. Fun would be had—payback time.

  Walker was alternating between looking smug and glaring at Nicky.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “So that girlfriend you were so determined to save is involved in this,” she commented. “Involved in kidnapping and experimentation.”

  His smile slid off his face like oil. “Maybe she doesn't know about it.” But could he really believe that? Could he really believe that Pablo's most trusted...most trusted minion didn't know anything about his biggest evil scheme to date? He needed to talk to her, that was for sure.

  “You're dreaming,” Walker told him, and Nicky couldn't help but wonder if she was right.

  GABLE HURRIED DOWN the streets of Chinatown with her head down. She knew exactly how to make herself inconspicuous, and it was one of those times that skill came in particular use. Every couple of minutes she checked behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed; she knew Pablo trusted her, but she wouldn't put it past him to have someone follow her when she wasn't on one of his jobs. She knew the score—she belonged to him, and he didn't like when his things didn't play his way.

  Confident that no one on the busy street was there for her, she ducked down into a dark, smelly alleyway and approached a tattered door. It had once been green, but age had worn away the paint and what was left had begun to peel.

  She knocked gently.

  A statuesque woman with flowing red hair answered. She seemed relieved to see Gable and ushered her inside with a warm smile.

  Keston was a widowed mother of eight unruly children, and she still looked beautiful, despite her years of grief and poverty. Together with her children she shared a tiny, two bedroomed apartment with barely enough money to make the rent each month, though none of them ever complained.

  Gable sat down at the worn, wooden kitchen table next to the fire and watched as Keston made them both steaming mugs of a spicy smelling drink. As soon as Keston sat down across from her, Gable took out a thick envelope from inside the oversized brown leather jacket she wore and slid it across the table. “Two thousand dollars,” she told Keston, who was eyeing the packet with watery eyes. “I'll bring more as soon as I can get away again.”

  “I wish I could tell you that I can't possibly accept this,” Keston said, bringing the money close to her chest and sniffing loudly. “but we both know that would be a lie. I haven't eaten in three days, and the children's portions have been so small! Oh, with this money I can make them a real meal tonight! Will you stay?”

  “Can't. Got places to be. Maybe next time.”

  “Gable...thank you. I promise I'll find a way to pay you back some day—”

  “Hey,” Gable interrupted softly. “Do I need to remind you of all the times you gave my ass a place to crash when I lived on the streets?” As long as Gable had brought a little food for the kids, Keston had been happy to give her a warm piece of floor to sleep on by the fire. “You saved my life a bunch. I probably would've frozen to death if it weren't for you. Now I have money to spare and I wanna give it to you.”

  Keston nodded, but Gable could tell she still didn't feel easy about taking the money. She never did, but her desire to take care of her children always overcame her pride. “Does Pablo know that you give me money every month?”

  “No,” Gable admitted. “He'd see my ties to you and your family as a weakness.”

  “Promise me you won't put yourself in any danger! Especially not for me.”

  Gable said nothing. Working for Pablo was already life threateningly dangerous. Going behind his back was worse. Everyone who was smart enough knew that.

  When she realized that she wasn't going to get an answer, Keston sighed. “Have you heard anything of your missing friend yet?”

  Resting her chin in her hands, Gable shook her head. “No, not a thing. I don't know what to do any more; it's like Sacha just vanished into thin air. There are no traces of him anywhere. God, I miss him so much.” She rubbed harshly at her face, weariness and sadness consuming her. “You know it's been almost a year since he disappeared? Feels more like a lifetime. I'm starting to think I might never see him again. Everyone I talk to tells me I should give up and move on...maybe I should.”

  Keston reached across the table for one of Gable's hands and squeezed it comfortingly. “Well...you were never one for just rolling over and giving up, especially when it came to Sacha. And he was the same with you. I truly believe that wherever he is, he's just as desperate to see you as you are to see him.”

  AFTER HER PARENTS died in the fire, Gabrielle was sent to live with her only living relative, her estranged Uncle Leighton. Uncle Leighton was her father's younger brother, and he was estranged for good reason. He was a gross, vile, mean drunk who didn't even seem to give a crap that his only broth
er was dead.

  His ugly skank hole of an apartment was a million miles away from the beautiful home she'd grown up in, and she spent three awful weeks surviving there, afraid to touch anything for genuine fear of catching something gross and permanent.

  Leighton frightened the hell out of her, and she was timid in a way that she'd never been before.

  And then during one of his drunken rants—of which there were many—Leighton saw fit to insult his dead brother. He told Gabrielle that her father deserved to die, and she finally snapped back to her fiery self and told him where he could stick his mother fudging opinions. Leighton slapped her so hard that her head whipped back and she saw stars. No one had ever raised their hand to her before, and instead of scaring her, it infuriated her. He went to hit her again and she kicked him, hard, between the legs. When he bent over in pain, she picked up a kitchen stool and threw it at him. She wasn't sure what she'd meant to achieve by acting out so violently, but his unconsciousness worked for her.

  Soon, dread set in when the implications of her actions hit home and panic flared inside her gut. He'd be so angry when he awoke, and he'd hurt her for sure.

  After checking to make sure Leighton was actually alive—she didn't want to be a murderer—she packed the few meagre belongings she'd acquired since losing everything in the fire, stole the cash from his wallet, stuffed anything she could find that might be remotely valuable into her bag and ran straight to the bus station where she bought a ticket to New York City. Gabrielle had always dreamed of living there; planned it all out. Collage, a wonderful job, a magical romance—in that order. Growing up, she'd always imagined New York to be an enchanting place where dreams came true, a place filled with beautiful people living the high life, a city made out of glitter and and rainbows and cocktails.

  She should never have been so naïve.

  Because it wasn't enchanting. It was cold and dirty and scary and people were mean.

  After booking into a gross motel, Gabrielle did something she'd always sworn she'd never do...she used a home dye kit. She doubted Leighton would ever bother to look for her, but the police surely would, and she wanted to make it harder for anyone to recognize her.

  Newly brunette and with a terrible, chin length hair cut she'd given herself, she began introducing herself as Gable instead of Gabrielle. Gabrielle was a princess' name, and she was a princess no more.

  Gable had a plan—she'd get a job, save up enough money and get a place of her own. Easy.

  But it wasn't easy, of course. What she had stolen from Leighton quickly ran out, and though jobs came and went, the money never lasted long once she'd paid for food. Soon, she couldn't afford to stay in even the dingiest motels—the nice ones asked too many questions about an under age girl checking in alone—and saving up for her own place became a fairytale. She found herself penniless and alone, living—surviving—on the streets.

  Over the next few months, Gable really had to learn street smarts, how to take care of herself, keep safe, because nobody out there would do it for her, she learned that lesson fast. There were night facilities for people in her situation, usually named something nice like 'Cheer House' or 'Bright Inn'—which was ironic as they were very rarely bright or cheery—where beds were available for the night, but the spaces were limited and taken within seconds of the doors opening.

  The city streets were a cold, ruthless place. She quickly discovered that she couldn't let her guard down, not ever, because somebody was always looking for the opportunity to steal from her, to hurt her, to use her. Gable had to become tough to survive, had to become hard, merciless, inside and out. She resorted to theft at her most desperate, stealing clothes and food. Nights spent sleeping on the street were the hardest, and though she never sold herself to anybody, there were evenings that she'd leave a club with a man just so that she'd have a hot shower and a warm bed to sleep in after they'd had sex.

  It was a hard, lonely existence, and she lived that way for an entire year...until she met Sacha.

  GABLE'S MIND WAS still on her missing friend, Sacha, when she approached the gates to Yarmac and Bogely's. She was so preoccupied that Tamitri almost managed to surprise her when he popped up out of nowhere.

  “Well, if it ain't my favourite evil minion,” he called through the bars, shooting her his most charming smirk. “Show me your tat, gorgeous gal, or you ain't getting in.”

  The thing about the Outcasts was, they didn't care about sides. Good or bad, Guardian or an employee of Pablo—as long as they knew no harm was meant and that they were safe, they were welcoming. That was kind of why Gable loved visiting; no judgement.

  “Baby, you've known me for what? Six and a half years now?” She heaved a playful sigh. “You know it's me.”

  “Hey, it's my job to ask,” he said. His tone was sincere, but the twinkle in his eyes told a whole other story. “Gotta make sure you're not a Shapeshifter or somethin'.”

  She scoffed. “You just wanna see my ass.” But obligingly, she turned around and pulled her jeans down over her right butt cheek—the one sporting Terelle's tear drop symbol. “You never used to need to see it when it was on my hand.”

  He didn't even bother to deny it. “You're the one who made me move it to your ass cheek. Can't blame a guy for looking; it's a tight ass.” She couldn't argue with that, she worked hard to keep her butt in shape.

  Like everyone else who was granted access to Yarmac and Bogely's, Tamitri had stamped his weird little magic tattoo on her hand on her first ever trip inside and given her his 'the only way to remove the tattoo is to remove the hand' speech that he used to scare the newbies. But Pablo was unaware that she even knew where the place was, not to mention the fact that she could enter whenever she wanted, and so she had gotten Tamitri to move the tattoo—because apparently his bit about losing a hand was a big frikkin' lie—some place Pablo was unlikely to see it when she first agreed to work for him. He'd never said it out loud—to her at least—but Gable was pretty sure Pablo would chew off his own kneecaps to gain control over Terelle's Outcasts. And she couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen.

  “Happy now?” she asked, yanking her jeans back up.

  “Delighted.” He reached between the bars for her hand and kissed it sloppily.

  “Thanks, stud muffin,” she said once she'd walked through the gates, giggling at him like a flirt. He pretended to swoon, like she knew he would—it was their thing.

  He pinched her waist when she went to pass by him. “Baby, when you gonna marry me?” He was mostly joking, she knew, but there was always the tiniest sparkle of hope in his eyes.

  “You know I would,” she teased, patting his rock hard chest. “but I don't like to share.

  They chuckled when Xantherus growled underneath Tamitri's t-shirt.

  “One day you'll give in to me,” he promised her.

  “Don't hold your breath.”

  He gave her a toothy grin and ruffled her hair affectionately before shooing her away with a tap on her butt.

  “Gable!” Terelle approached her, effortlessly beautiful in a floral dress and barefoot as always.

  Gable smiled warmly, happier to see Terelle than she'd thought she'd be. It was hard, sneaking away from Pablo, and she didn't get to visit Yarmac & Bogely's as much as she once had. And aside from Sacha, Terelle was the closest friend Gable had. The kind of friend a girl could sit back with a glass of wine and gossip with, the kind of friend that could make her forget she was an evil minion, and that she was chilling with the Fallen Faerie leader of a tribe of Outcasts. Gable hadn't had a girlfriend since her life in LA, and she appreciated Terelle more than she could say. And she knew Terelle appreciated her just as much—mostly because Gable wasn't afraid of her, didn't treat her like she was made of glass or a terrifying monster. Gable didn't take Terelle's moody ass, 'I'm All Fallen And Brooding So Leave Me The Hell Alone' crap, even though she knew very well Terelle could squish her like a bug if she wanted to. With one hand, probably. Maybe even a fin
ger.

  “Are you here to see me?”

  She shook her head. “No, I stopped by to talk to Cadby.”

  Terelle sighed sadly, not even needing to ask why. She didn't say anything, but the look on her face frustrated Gable. “Well...” Terelle hesitated. “Come see me when you're done, okay?”

  Gable nodded and walked to Cadby's tent. He was already waiting for her inside, of course, his friendly face marred by the same sad expression as Terelle's. She hated that look. It was the look worn by those who had given up hope. He already knew what she was there to ask of him; he always did.

  “I want you to try sensing Sacha again,” she said, because he seemed to be waiting for the words. “Try to find a link or something, sense his location. We just...we need to find out if he's safe.”

  Cadby met her in the middle of the tent and pressed his forehead against hers. She didn't normally like that kind of intimacy, didn't like when people got in her space, but it somehow seemed less invasive when it was Cadby, only comforting instead. Losing Sacha had brought them closer together.

  “Gable, we've already tried this a hundred times,” he pointed out kindly, pulling away. “Wherever Sacha is, if he's even still alive, we can't reach him, psychically or magically. Not even me, and I'm pretty darned powerful.”

  “He's alive,” she said hotly, pressing a fist to her heart. “I know it! I'd feel it if he weren't, I'm sure of it. And if the situation were reversed, Sacha would never give up on me, not ever. You know that. And I'm not giving up on him, no matter what.”

  He gripped her elbows, still unconvinced. “Gable—”

  “Please, Cadby,” she begged, and Gable rarely begged. “You're the only other person in the world Sacha counts on as a friend. Don't you give up on him too, not you. If you say no...I have no one else to turn to.”

  He groaned, and she knew she'd won. “Okay, we'll try it again.” It was disheartening to know that he wasn't really agreeing because he believed it would work, but to make her happy. He was agreeing because he cared about her, and he cared about Sacha.