The Guardians Complete Series 1 Box Set: Contains Mercy, The Ferryman, Crossroads, Witchfinder, Infernum

by Wendy Saunders

  THE GUARDIANS

  SERIES 1:

  Books 1 – 5

  By

  Wendy Saunders

  Download Boothe’s Hollow, an exclusive FREE book by Wendy Saunders

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  Each book in this collection is the intellectual property of the author and as such cannot be reproduced in whole or in part in any medium without the express written permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2017 Wendy Saunders

  All rights reserved.

  IN LOVING MEMORY

  OF

  dOREEN aRCHER

  25TH mAR 1929- 22ND aPR 2015

  For my Nana, who taught me that love is the tie that binds the tightest.

  Book 1: Mercy

  Book 2: The Ferryman

  Book 3: Crossroads

  Book 4: Witchfinder

  Book 5: Infernum

  Glossary of Terms in Greek Mythology

  Author Bio

  Mercy

  1.

  Welcome to Mercy, Massachusetts

  Pop. 13,623

  Olivia sat and stared at the sign through the intermittent swipes of her wiper blades.

  What… the hell… was she doing?

  Shaking her head she flicked the gear into reverse. Yet still she paused, her lower lip caught in her teeth and her brow folding into a frown. Letting the gear drop back into neutral she stared once again at the sign.

  Her fingertips tapped out a thoughtful staccato on the steering wheel and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

  Why had she thought this was a good idea?

  She hadn’t set foot in Mercy since she was a child. After everything that had happened, she’d done the one thing she had sworn never to do.

  She had returned home.

  Her gaze narrowed, once again fixing on the large sign in front of her car. She must be crazy for coming back. Mercy was a small town, with a small town’s mentality. It wouldn’t take long, she thought ruefully. As soon as she set foot on Mercy soil, the town gossips would start spreading the word that ‘the West girl’ had returned. Before long her past would be dredged up and picked over, like vultures over a rotting carcass. Then all anyone would be talking about was how her quiet, unassuming father had snapped one fateful night, murdered her mother and grandmother and burned their home to the ground, before kidnapping her.

  She let her head fall back against the headrest of her seat. Her hands dropped from the steering wheel as she listened to the engine idling quietly and the rhythmic tapping of the rain.

  They didn’t know the truth, none of them. Even she couldn’t make sense of it, all these years later. She squeezed her eyes closed against the fresh new onslaught of memories that washed over her. She’d spent years trying not to think about that night, shoving every painful blood soaked memory into the deepest, darkest corner of her mind, where it would never again see the light of day.

  It had worked…for a while.

  Now the closer she got to her home town, the more the memories tried to force their way back out of the cage she thought she’d bolted them into. With every mile, the more her heart started to pound, her palms becoming clammy as she white knuckled the steering wheel.

  Her whiskey colored eyes once again drew back to the sign and she blew out the frustrated breath she wasn’t even aware she’d been holding in. She should just put the car in reverse and leave now, she told herself silently. She sure as hell didn’t need the damn inheritance. A rickety old stick style house on the edge of a lake, in the middle of nowhere. The stupid thing was probably falling to pieces anyway.

  Except, she released another slow breath, she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave. For the same reason she’d ignored the nagging, perverse little voice inside her, that hadn’t shut up the whole drive from Providence.

  She’d felt the tug of power. She could feel it even now, the low thrum of magic that pulsed beneath the ground like a heartbeat. It pulled at her, teased and cajoled. It was dark and it was seductive. Whatever it was she could hear it’s call. It wanted her back.

  She scrubbed her hands over her face; she was so tired of arguing with herself. Opening her eyes she noticed that although the rain had slowed the sky was darkening. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t continue to sit parked at the side of the road all afternoon.

  A sudden banging on her window startled her from her thoughts. Her eyes flicked to the rear view mirror and saw a glimpse of flashing police lights. Taking a deep breath to still her jumpy heart she wound down the window, blinking back the cold raindrops that bathed her face.

  ‘Ma’am,’ the officer nodded. ‘Is everything alright?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Olivia replied quietly, ‘everything’s fine.’

  Her eyes dropped to the badge pinned to his chest and she noted the name ‘Deputy Walker’. Her gaze flickered back to his face, so open and earnest and young. Actually everything was pretty damn far from fine, but she wasn’t about to admit that to a complete stranger, and a cop at that.

  ‘I’m afraid you can’t stop here,’ he offered with an easy smile, as the rain dripped from the rim of his hat.

  ‘I know,’ she murmured.

  ‘Do you need any assistance?’

  ‘No,’ Olivia’s mouth curved as she looked up at him. ‘Just a backbone.’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘I’m just about to head into town,’ she straightened in her seat. ‘Thanks for checking on me.’

  ‘No problem,’ he nodded, ‘you be sure and drive safe. The road ahead is slippery.’

  ‘You have no idea,’ Olivia murmured, as she watched him return to his car.

  Putting the car into drive she eased forward and took a deep breath. About half a mile down the road she started hitting the outskirts of the town and it was as if she’d never left.

  The place had barely changed; the Dunkin’ Donuts was new, but Walkers Auto was still there, as was the Sidecar Diner. She slowed down as she drove down Main St. passing the Bailey’s convenience store on one side and the Irish pub on the other. Miz Willows’ Scoop'n'Shake was still there and a small unconscious smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, as she wondered idly if the sweet old hippy still ran the place. She felt a strange, uncharacteristic tug of nostalgia and was forced to admit that maybe her memories of Mercy weren’t all bad. She still remembered running down to Miz Willows on a hot day for a sundae with her best friends, Louisa and Jake. She shook her head lightly as a small smile played on her lips. No, the memories weren’t all bad.

  She passed by the library and then the museum, once one of her favorite places in Mercy. Making a mental note to visit when she had the chance, she headed east onto Walnut Drive and then north onto Maple St.

  Well, there was no turning back now. No matter how much she didn’t want to, there was one stop she needed to make before she headed up to the Stick House.

  Slowing down, she pulled up and parked at the side of the street. Her heart was pounding louder now and there was a low-pitched buzzing in her ears. Climbing out of the car she pulled her jacket tighter against the wind, noting that the rain had started to pick up again.

  The ground almost seemed to ripple beneath her feet as she took a tentative step forward. Sandwiched between a pair of cute little two storey houses was an empty lot where her home had once stood. She’d ridden her shiny red bicycle on that very sidewalk and rolled across the lawn with her faithful dog, Truman.
She’d sat out on the back stoop on clear nights and watched, fascinated, as her father had pointed out the constellations.

  She took another step closer and sucked in a sharp painful breath, as the memories washed over her in waves. The rain came down harder. Unaware of the downpour and the fact she was now soaked to the skin, she moved closer to the front yard.

  The house was long gone. It had burned to the ground the night her mother died and it seemed no one had bothered to re-build it.

  But, she noted curiously, someone had gone to the trouble to care for the lawn and plant a beautiful garden. Even this late in the year it still burst with colors so vivid, it was like she had stepped inside an oil painting.

  The persistent buzzing in her ears had now become a low murmur, pushing her on, urging her forward. It was as if the ground itself was trying to speak to her.

  Stepping onto the grass, everything suddenly changed.

  The air filled with the acrid smell of burning. The daylight faded, along with the rain. Instead the dark air was heavy with thick, black, oily smoke that filled her mouth and throat. The house in front of her burned hotter than any fire she had ever known. The windows melted and dripped down the front of the building, like dirty great tears.

  Watching helplessly, she saw the roof collapse inward with a loud splintering, throwing burning dust and ash into the choking air. The wall of heat in front of her was too much. Her skin felt too tight and her eyes stung, causing her to take an involuntary step back.

  The second her foot hit the sidewalk the flames disappeared and she once again felt the clean, fat drops of rain dripping down the neck of her jacket. The daylight returned, hidden beneath the heavy grey skies, and once again the little garden smiled at her.

  She knelt and pressed her hand into the wet soil. This time she felt, rather than witnessed, the violent echo of fire and flame. She drew in a shaky breath, her fingertips clutching involuntarily and digging into the mud.

  The garden was an illusion. Beneath its pretty mask the stench of blood and ash still lingered. It was as if the ground itself was scarred from that night.

  Straightening up and taking another step back, her heart began to slow to its usual pace and the whispering in her ears subsided, until once again all she could hear was the clatter of rain against the sidewalk.

  ‘Olivia?’

  Her name was a startled whisper upon the wind.

  She turned and her penetrating gaze fell upon a small, familiar woman about her own age. Her vivid blue eyes were wide with shock and the blonde hair that had escaped her hood was plastered wetly to her pale, heart shaped face. The face, although older, was one Olivia knew very well.

  A small smile curved the corners of Olivia’s mouth.

  ‘Hello Louisa,’ she murmured.

  The breath whooshed out of her, as she found herself caught up in a tight hug. Louisa couldn’t have been more than five two, but the woman was a lot stronger than she looked.

  ‘My God, Olivia,’ Louisa breathed, taking a step back. Although she’d released her from the hug she’d grasped Olivia’s hand, as if to reassure herself that she was real and not a ghost. ‘I can’t believe it’s really you.’

  ‘I’m surprised you recognized me,’ Olivia tilted her head, regarding her childhood friend curiously. ‘It’s been twenty years.’

  Louisa’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears.

  ‘What is it?’ Olivia smiled, ‘do I look that bad?’

  ‘We thought you were dead,’ she whispered, shaking her head. ‘After what happened to your mother and then the house burning, no one would tell us what had happened to you or where you were.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jake and I kept asking Mom and Dad what had happened to you and we were just told you were gone. They made it sound as if you were in the house, so we assumed you died in the fire and no one bothered to correct us. Even the people in town, who didn’t stop gossiping for months, didn’t seem to know what had happened to you.’

  ‘That’s weird,’ Olivia frowned.

  ‘I mourned you,’ her breath caught in her throat, ‘every damn day.’

  She could feel the hurt and confusion pouring off her friend in waves and so she did the only thing she could. She wrapped her arms awkwardly around her and hugged her back. It had been a while since she’d allowed herself to be this close to someone and she was a little rusty.

  ‘Olivia,’ Louisa sighed her name and in that one moment, that one expression, Olivia was transported back to her childhood and the deep loving bond they’d shared. This was why she’d come back, because, whether she liked it or not, this was the one place that had always been home.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Louisa pulled back.

  ‘Everywhere’ she shook her head. ‘Nowhere’, and chuckling self-depreciatingly she added, ‘and every place in between. It’s complicated,’ she shrugged.

  ‘Why don’t you come in for a coffee?’ Louisa nodded her head towards the tidy little house opposite, with its cheerful blue dollhouse shutters.

  ‘You still living with your parents?’

  ‘No,’ Louisa chuckled, ‘I’ve got my own place in town. My parents are on vacation. I just stop by and check the mail, water the plants, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Olivia shook her head. ‘It’s getting late and I need to get to the Stick House and sort everything out. I don’t even know if the electric is still on.’

  ‘The Stick House?’ Louisa repeated slowly, ‘that’s where you’re staying?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she nodded. ‘Aunt Evie left it to me in her will.’

  ‘I heard about Evelyn. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be, I’m not even sure why she left me the house.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she?’ Louisa tilted her head in confusion. ‘She adored you.’

  There was nothing she could say to that. Even as close as she and Louisa had been when they were children, she couldn’t bring herself to tell her the truth.

  Her aunt hadn’t wanted her. After the death of her mother and grandmother and the arrest of her father, the authorities had contacted Evelyn as her only living relative, but she had refused to take custody of Olivia.

  The hurt had stung hot and bright at the time. She had only been eight years old. In one night, she had lost her entire family and had been taken away from the only home she’d ever known. She’d thought her great aunt would come for her but she hadn’t wanted her. She supposed, in retrospect, she could understand. She had not only represented everything Evelyn had lost in her sister and niece, but also the man who had taken them from her. She was tainted by his blood, the blood of a murderer.

  Shaking off her bleak mood, she turned back to Louisa.

  ‘Who planted the garden?’

  ‘We did,’ Louisa murmured, turning towards the garden in question.

  ‘My mom cried for days and days after it happened. I would find her standing at the window, just staring across the road at the wreck of your house which was surrounded by crime scene tape. The days passed into weeks and months and when we realized no one was going to do anything about the house, the whole neighbourhood came together and cleared the site. Then mom and dad planted a remembrance garden.’

  ‘That was good of them,’ Olivia replied quietly, her eyes lost in thought.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t come in?’ Louisa asked again. ‘You’re soaked to the skin and there’s so much I want to talk to you about. So much I want to ask you.’

  Olivia shook her head.

  ‘I can’t, I really need to get up to the house.’ She squeezed Louisa’s hand once and stepped back, ‘but it was good to see you.’

  ‘Olivia!’

  She stopped and turned back to her friend.

  ‘Welcome home.’

  Something inside her softened at the heartfelt sentiment.

  ‘Look,’ Olivia offered impulsively, ‘why don’t you give me a couple of days, then
come on up to the house and we’ll talk.’

  ‘Do you mean it?’

  ‘Sure,’ Olivia shrugged. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend and after a couple of days back in this town, something tells me I’m going to need one.’

  ‘Give me your phone,’ Louisa held out her hand.

  Olivia watched as she took her cell and punched her number into it.

  ‘There,’ Louisa smiled, ‘now you can call me if you need anything.’

  Olivia nodded in acknowledgment before turning and heading back to her car. While they had been talking the rain had let up to a fine mist, the kind where you’re not actually sure it’s raining, until you realize you’re wet to the skin. Still it was better than the downpour she driven into town in.

  Sliding back into the driver’s seat she blew out a long breath. In Louisa’s company she’d relaxed for the first time in days. Louisa had always had that gift, even when they were kids. She seemed to just radiate calm and tranquillity, a trait not shared by her younger brother Jake. He was only eleven months younger than them both. The three of them had been inseparable. They’d even had their own secret club. It was only now she realized how much she’d missed them.

  She started the car, pulling away from the curb and suddenly a hot, uncomfortable ball of awareness churned once again in her stomach.

  She was going back to the Stick House.

  She fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut; it was once her most favorite place in the whole world. But after the last twenty years of pain and resentment, she had no idea how she was going to feel when she walked through the door.

  Part of her still couldn’t quite believe she was back in Mercy as she’d never had any intention of returning. She’d been happy in Providence. Well, if not happy then certainly content.

  So what if she’d skipped from town to town, county to county? From Lawrence to Georgetown, Philadelphia to Boston and New Hampshire to Rhode Island, until she’d ended up in Providence, where she’d stayed the longest. A grand total of two years, almost a record for her.