Awakened (Paranormal romance, YA fantasy) (The Guardian Legacy)

by Ednah Walters

  “Come up here and I’ll explain.”

  His tone indicated that he expected me to obey him. In his dreams. And staring up at him started to put a strain on my neck muscles. I rotated my shoulders, trying to work the kinks out. “You come down here and explain.”

  He threw me a disgruntled look. “Don’t be scared of me, Lil. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “You got that right.” I had nails and a whole arsenal of dirty, self-defense tricks Grampa had taught me.

  “Arrogant little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Takes one to know one.” And who was he calling little? I was five-nine. I needed answers, but there was no way I was scrambling up the tree and making a fool of myself.

  “Chicken,” he said.

  I squinted at him. “Are you listening to my thoughts? Because if you are, stop it.”

  “Prickly, too.” In the blink of the eye, he disappeared from the tree branch. The next second, he was standing before me.

  I gasped and took a step back. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?” He sat, crossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, his expression serene. He pointed at the ground. “Sit,” he ordered.

  I hated to be told what to do, but this time I obeyed. Up close, I could see the colors of his eyes. They were a dazzling shade of green too hard to describe. Emeralds were the closest thing I could think of. He was several inches taller than me and beautiful couldn’t begin to describe him.

  I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to touch him and make sure he was real. “You were up there then you were down here. How?”

  One perfect eyebrow cocked. “I teleported.”

  I blinked in confusion. “Tele-what?”

  “Teleport, move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. Something our people do instead of using unreliable human machines.” He threw a mocking glance at the RV Park, blew out his cheeks and shook his head. “You don’t use telepathy and don’t teleport. I cannot believe the lengths Cardinal Guardians will go to hide their true identities. Are you a trainee?”

  I had no idea what he meant, so I shook my head. “No.”

  He frowned, eyes narrowing. “You are the Granddaughter of Cardinal Psi Guardian Falcon?”

  Cardinal sigh?

  “Grampa is Ares Falcon not, uh, a Guardian.”

  Relief flashed on his face, and he smiled. “For a second there, I thought I had the wrong Falcon. And your grandfather is a Cardinal Psi Guardian, no matter what alias he uses. Pretending to be a gypsy might be the perfect camouflage, but he’s still a Guardian. In fact, you can drop the act now, Lil. I’m one of you guys.”

  This guy was delusional. I inched away, glancing behind me to make sure there were still people within screaming distance. “Listen. Grampa doesn’t use aliases. And he might communicate with spirits or Guardians, but he’s not one of them.” My voice rose.

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, calm down. Kudos for having your story and sticking to it. I can’t imagine never using my powers or living like a nomad. So how old are you?”

  I glared at him. “I’m not answering any more of your questions. Who are you?”

  “Bran Llyr, nineteen year old Guardian-in-training at your service.” He bowed his head, but his twitching lips gave him away. He was getting a kick out of messing with my head. “And you’re…what? Seventeen? Eighteen?”

  I looked older? Cool. I almost told him I was eighteen to mess with him, but I hated playing games.

  “Sixteen,” I said and went back to studying him. The name Bran, unique and beautiful, suited him. I cringed. Was he in my mind? Did he read that? “The truth this time. How come you use telepathy and can do tricks. And what do you mean you need my help?”

  He sighed. “I told you, I’m one of the Guardians, or if you prefer the old name, Nephilim.” He stressed his words as though talking to the village idiot.

  Okay. It was never a good idea to provoke the crazies. I’d humor him for now. “What’s Nephilim?”

  His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  I crossed my arms and locked eyes with him.

  He scowled. “So this is a test to see if I’m one of the soul reapers?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If I were after your powers, we wouldn’t be seated here in broad daylight talking. I’d be in and out of your head so fast you wouldn’t know what hit you.”

  I blinked at the anger in his voice, my mind spinning with the things he kept saying. And hovering in the background was concern for him. Maybe he was crazy and needed psychiatric help. If I had a cell phone, I’d call 9-1-1 right now.

  “Why do you need my help, Bran?” I asked and smiled so as not to set him off again.

  He saw through my ruse and threw me a disgusted look, but his voice was serious when he spoke. “I have a message for Cardinal Falcon. Tell him that Coronis has found a way to open the gateway to Tartarus and release the Damned Ones. He needs to alert the Circle of Twelve.”

  Tartarus? Damned Ones? I shook my head. He was delusional.

  “You want me to repeat it again?”

  That was it. Not only was he creeping me out, he was the most arrogant guy I’d ever met. I jumped to my feet. “Listen. You’ve confused Grampa with someone else. He’s not a Cardinal anything and he doesn’t know all these people you just mentioned. He’s a gypsy, okay?”

  He groaned and rolled his eyes. “All Cardinal Guardians make up an ancestry so the world doesn’t know who they really are. There’re just so many years you can live with humans before they notice you age a lot slower than they do, keep odd hours.”

  Live among humans? I glared down at him. “Go to hell, Bran.”

  His eyes rounded, his sculptured lips curling into an incredulous smirk. “Don’t you mean Tartarus? Hell is a human’s nightmare, not ours.”

  I shot him a mean look. “Stay away from me. You need help? Dial 9-1-1. You want to talk to me, do it like a normal person. No more telepathy. I don’t know what spell you used on me, but you need to stop.”

  He laughed, and was on his feet before I could blink. “Spells are nothing but mere tools illusionists use to fool gullible humans.”

  I growled and turned, almost tripping on the uneven ground as I stomped away.

  “Lil?”

  From his voice, he was hot on my trail. Panic surged through me. I walked a little faster. “Stay. Away. From me. ”

  “Will you give him my message?” he said from behind me.

  “Why should I? I don’t believe anything you’ve told me.”

  “Why not? I use telepathy and can teleport—things only our people can do?”

  “That doesn’t mean Grampa is a Cardinal whatever or one of the…the….”

  “Nephilim. Ask him who he is, Lil. Who you are. Maybe then you’ll believe me and give him my message.”

  I ignored him, wishing I could sprint away. But I knew if I attempted it, my shaking knees wouldn’t support me and I’d fall flat on my face. And I didn’t want the gorgeous, but crazy, Bran Llyr to see that.

  “Haven’t you ever wondered why he’s been dragging you all over the country?” Bran asked, his voice deepening with frustration.

  “Because he’s a true gypsy and wanderlust is in his blood,” I threw over my shoulder and picked up pace.

  Bran passed me and walked backward, his gaze on my face. “Your Grampa is a Cardinal Psi Guardian trained to hunt down Hermonites or, as humans call them, demons. He needs to be on the move, and no group of people moves around more than circus gypsies.”

  My loving Grampa a demon-hunter? No way. I stumbled, almost twisting my ankle in my haste to get away from Bran. “Grampa was an illusionist, the best any circus ever had.”

  “And why do you believe that? Because everything he did was real, that’s why.”

  Images of Grampa’s performances flashed in my head. No, no, no! “Stop. I refuse to listen to your lies.”

  Bran shook his
head, his emerald eyes flashing. “Think about it, Lil. Every time you move to a new place or he goes on a trip, are there weird things going on in the area? Unexplained deaths or phenomena? Electric storms? People acting crazy? Wild animals on the rampage? Little mayhems demons cause for fun?” He wiggled his fingers. “And do they stop once you guys get there?”

  My heart stopped at his words. We moved to a camp outside Seattle one summer a few years ago where little boys were disappearing and turning up dead; in Louisiana when alligators started moving inland and attacking people. Each time, the incidents stopped. And I once caught a glimpse of someone who bore uncanny resemblance to Grampa on T.V. right after he left for work. It was a live feed from the Gulf Coast, just before a hurricane hit. We lived in Wisconsin at the time. How had he gotten there so fast? Teleporting?

  Terror rose inside me like a tidal wave. I was beginning to doubt my own flesh and blood because of some strange guy’s rant. I stop and shoved my face close to Bran, noticing the sparkle in his emerald eyes despite my anger. “Enough! I don’t care what you say. Grampa is not anything except who he’s always been.” My voice shook so hard my words came out in spurts.

  Bran’s expression softened. He reached out a hand to touch my arm. “Lil—”

  “Don’t.” I jumped out of his reach. All traces of arrogance left his face, his eyes darkening with helplessness. I almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  He forked his fingers through his hair then shoved his hands in the front pockets of his pants. “At least give him my message. It’s important.”

  “Why can’t you tell him yourself?” I snapped.

  “I can’t. I’d love to, but I can’t.” His tone beseeched.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t explain now.”

  “Then I can’t help you either,” yelled. “You could have easily used your telepathic tricks and told me that stupid message if it’s that important. Instead, you lured me out here to tell me a crazy story. You’re a jerk.”

  His eyes changed, became hard. He gave me a brief, angry smile. When he spoke, he stressed his words and his voice was mean. “I brought you out here so you could tell the Cardinal that you stood right in front of me and I didn’t hurt you. Tell him that. And give him my message, Lil, or you’ll be sorry.” Then he disappeared in thin air. One minute he was standing before me, the next he was gone.

  Panic threatened to suck me under. I didn’t try to locate Bran. I darted away, running full speed for the safety of the trailer park. At the edge of the compound, I risked a glance back at the willow tree. There were no ravens or Bran. Hysteria thickened my throat. What if Grampa had lied about being a gypsy? He always talked about Guardians watching over things. I’d assumed they were spirits, beings without form or shape. Could Bran be telling the truth?

  I ran all the way to the trailer and locked the door behind me with trembling hands. I slapped my hand to my mouth and rushed to the bathroom, almost missing the bathroom bowl as the food I’d eaten earlier shot out.

  Acid still burning my throat, I stumbled to my bedroom, flopped on my bed and buried my face into my pillow. A hollow feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Confusion, dread and anger churned and twisted my insides. If only Grampa would come home. He’d tell me the truth, help me dismiss these crazy thoughts.

  Nephilim…demon-hunter…Guardians….

  Bran’s words kept ringing in my ears until I thought I’d explode. I hated him. I hated Bran Llyr. How dare he imply that Grampa, my only living relative, kept secrets from me?

  But what if he was right? What if Grampa wasn’t an illusionist, but someone with real abilities? A demon hunter. I shook my head. That couldn’t be true. It couldn’t…it couldn’t….

  I closed my eyes tight, tried to think calming thoughts. But the turbulent ache in the pit of my stomach spread. It burned across my chest and shot upward. My temples throbbed as the heated blood roared past my ears. In the darkness behind my closed eyelids, tiny lights zoomed and coalesced into larger masses. The orbs collided and exploded, churning the emotions coursing through me.

  Stop it, Lil. Stop it right now.

  Grampa? Before I could react, something yanked me upright and my back collided with the wall of the trailer. My eyes snapped open.

  Grampa stood in the doorway of my bedroom with his hands extended toward me, his usually groomed, long, graying hair in disarray, his face a mask of fear. What was he doing? Why couldn’t I move my arms?

  “Grampa?”

  “Make it stop, Lil.”

  Make what stop? I glanced around and realized something wasn’t right. The wind howled outside, whipping the curtains at the open window and making our trailer groan. Jagged lightening speared across the sky, followed by the deep, angry roll of thunder. The lights inside the trailer flickered then went out.

  Eyes wide, I strained to see Grampa’s tall figure in the ensuing darkness. Thuds of falling objects came from the kitchen and mingled with the cracking lightening.

  “But I’m not doing anything. Is it a thunderstorm? Why can’t I move?” I shouted above the din.

  In a blink, Grampa was beside me, kneeling on my bed, gripping my arms. “It’s you,” he yelled back. “You’re upset, but your emotions are not confined to your head. It’s happening outside, too. Will it away.”

  I struggled to focus on Grampa’s face, absorb his words, but fear shook my entire body. I squeezed my eyes tight, my teeth rattling. The gale raging outside seemed to kick up a notch, as though it had spawned a life of its own. “What’s happening to me? How do I stop it?”

  Take deep breaths…calm down, Grampa instructed.

  Air. In…hold…out. In…hold…out…

  No matter how hard I tried, I ended up hyperventilating.

  Visualize the opposite of whatever’s happening, he ordered.

  Calm…must be calm. Fear had long since replaced my anger. The trailer creaked as though being ripped apart by giant hands, and Grampa’s fingers dug into my arms, encouraging me, pushing me to take control of my emotions.

  Cool blue skies. Stars. Dark valley skies dotted with brilliant twinkling stars.

  Focus, baby…you can do it…focus, Grampa urged.

  No dark clouds. No lightening. No wind. Eyes closed tight, I kept visualizing tranquility, listening to the reassuring rhythm of Grampa’s voice in my head.

  The ground steadied. My heart rate slowed until I could hear each beat. The exploding lights in my head grew smaller, became orbs again then pinpoint lights. Blank darkness and blissful silence followed.

  The lights inside the trailer came back on and shone through my eyelids.

  I opened my eyes, studied Grampa’s face. He didn’t smile, but his steady black eyes were calm. I broke his gaze to glance around my room. Clothes, books and anything that wasn’t nailed down littered the floor.

  My heart pounded at the destruction. Had I done this? But how? Tears welled in my eyes as my gaze searched Grampa’s face, Bran’s words ringing in my ears.

  “What are we?” I whispered.

  2. THE REVELATIONS

  Grampa’s eyes softened. “Neterus. Devas. Titans. Avatars. Nephilim. We’ve been called many names by different people throughout history, but few know the truth. We are the Guardians, and we protect humans against evil forces.”

  Oh God, Bran was right—Grampa was a demon hunter. A cold knot tightened in my stomach. I couldn’t speak, so I just stared at Grampa and shivered.

  He patted my arm. “Why don’t I make us some hot cocoa while we talk?”

  I didn’t move, couldn’t move. “So we’re not gypsies?”

  “No, sweetheart. A Guardian must assume a new identity every few decades to blend in with humans. I’ve found the gypsies to be the most accommodating of human tribes.”

  Apprehension slithered through me like gazillion snakes and my knees trembled as he helped me off the bed. My head swam as I stepped over pencils and books without stopping to pick them up. Avatar
s. Titans. Beings I’d only read about in mythology and fantasy were real? And my grandfather was a demon hunter?

  “Are we human?” I asked in a whisper.

  “We are, and we aren’t.”

  I put a shaky hand to my head, fatigue lapping at my senses. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re descendants of the Watchers sent to Earth at the beginning of time to guard mankind. They fell in love with human women and their children became a new race, the Nephilim—our forefathers. So, yes, we do have human blood in us. While our forefathers corrupted humans, we chose to continue the work the original Watchers were sent to do.” The skin around his lips creased as he measured every word. “Every now and then, a child is born with the ability to manipulate elements. That child is sent to Earth to train and learn to blend in with humans. He or she becomes a Cardinal Guardian.”

  I shook my head and leaned against the wall separating my bedroom from the bathroom. “Sent to earth from where?”

  “Xenith, a parallel universe and our home.”

  But I wasn’t born in Xenith, which meant I couldn’t be one of them. Or was my birth certificate a forgery? I shook my head, hating the fact that I was beginning to accept this nightmare as the truth. Why should I believe Grampa? He already lied to me for years.

  I was angry and miserable and didn’t want to talk anymore. Not to him. “Were you ever going to tell me the truth, Grampa?” The words shot from my mouth against my will.

  He stood before me, an arm length from the door leading outside, and rubbed his goatee. “Yes, when you came into your powers. That happens when a child reaches sixteen.” His eyes probed mine. “You started hearing my conversations with the other Guardians two weeks ago, didn’t you?”

  My eyes widened. “You knew?”

  An indulgent smile crossed his lips. “Of course.”

  Had he any idea how scared I’d been? “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “You weren’t ready.”

  “I’m still not,” I yelled at him. “And if I hadn’t shown any powers? What then?”

  He frowned and shook his head. “Your case is different, special, because you were born here on Earth and my Flora…your Grandmother was human, a gypsy.”