A Guardian of Innocents

by Jeff Orton

  “She’s right,” Aaron said, “I’ve been getting the same feeling.”

  * * *

  A few months later, an email pops up on our home computer.

  Friends,

  I’m feeling better today than I’ve felt since our last encounter. It is an arduous and painstaking task, but I am slowly recovering. I know you have some items of value that belong to me, but as a gesture of good will, I’ll allow you to keep them. I must thank you, Jeshua, for freeing me from Tessa’s spiritual bondage.

  Because of you, I was able to escape. May it eat you up till your dying day!

  Yours always,

  Creeper

  As for me, my outlook on life has changed. I’ve been given a purpose. A purpose I know will one day be fulfilled. I know now that God placed me on this earth for a reason. I don’t feel like I’m hopelessly adrift, being knocked about by the waves of chaos anymore.

  I still hold firm that the men I’ve removed from this planet each deserved to have their life’s flame extinguished... And that the world is better off for it.

  And while I don’t think I’ll kill anyone ever again, there is of course that one person, that one non-human, upon whom I shall make one last valiant attempt.

  One day I know this shall come to pass. I will have my day, my one last chance to fight him. Whether or not I’ll win, I don’t know.

  I probably won’t.

  But every night, after I say my prayers in the darkness of my room, I whisper, “Show yourself, Godwin. C’mon, you fucker, show yourself!”

  It’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I’m going to make it right.

  C’mon, Godwin. Show yourself.

  I’m waiting for you.

  THE END

  Author’s Note

  My thanks to all who’ve read and supported this novel. I am forever grateful to each and every one of my readers. And I’m especially grateful for all those who’ve helped me along the way by offering advice, critiques, etc.

  The second installment of A Guardian of Innocents is currently underway. The title is Open Grave. You’ve likely noticed there’s a whole lot of back-story between Louis (a.k.a the man in black) and Aaron’s family that I failed to delve too deeply into with this first book…

  Yeah, there’s a reason for that.

  Open Grave – Excerpt 1

  Part I

  Life is Beautiful

  Chapter 1

  The bullet ricocheted off the tombstone.

  Looking back, it was at that moment things began to turn around for me. The lament I had submersed myself in for so long seemed trite and inconsequential, even self-indulgent.

  I had chosen a day I knew would be overcast and rainy; a day I knew there would be few, if any, visitors at the cemetery. The plan was simple… End it. The pain, the misery, the anguish and the hurt. End it. And do so as close to Desiree as possible.

  The light mist of fine rain began to thicken and accelerate in intensity. Droplets began to run off my forehead and into my eyes as I knelt down on the grass. My fingertips traced the engraving of her name. I placed my hand on the top of the tombstone and clutched it, steeling myself to do what I’d imagined doing for the past few years. My other hand was shoved deep in my jacket pocket, holding the gun, keeping it dry and out of sight from any would-be passers-by.

  Pull out gun. Apply to head. Pull trigger.

  That was it. The whole plan. It seemed so easy. Do it all in one swift motion, with no hesitation. End it.

  And as my hand emerged from my pocket, finger already tensing on the trigger, I knew I had every intention of going through with it. But then a firm hand clasped my shoulder.

  Startled, my head whirled around. I had brought the gun up to about chest level. And then it went off. Perhaps it was nerves, perhaps it was just this particular gun had a hair trigger, perhaps it was a combination. It was a new gun I wasn’t familiar with.

  The bullet took a chip off the corner of Desiree’s headstone. And as I turned around, all I saw was that one fleeting glimpse of red. It was a quarter of a second, if that; just at the edge of my peripheral vision. Long red hair lifting in a breeze.

  And though I turned to find no one standing behind me, or anywhere near me… I knew.

  * * *

  It’s funny how life throws you into places where you least expected to be, least wanted to be, but so often need to be. I could have chosen any mental health institution anywhere in the country; Aaron said he’d handle the expense. But I had to go and choose that one. I didn’t know if it was the name of the place, the pictures in the pamphlet, but something about that particular hospital just called out to me. It said, Here I am, pick me.

  I stood at the bottom of a large hill covered with a lush green lawn, staring up at the place. The white, ornate support columns running up the front of the hospital gave more of the impression of a southern mansion than a nuthouse.

  “You’ve got Tessa’s number, right?” Aaron asked as he closed the trunk of his car.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Okay. She said she’s gonna text you if she senses anything’s going on.”

  Confused, I asked, “Like what?”

  Aaron handed me one of my duffel bags. “Like the crap you pulled at the cemetery.”

  “Ah,” I replied. “Is she mad?”

  Aaron shook his head as we started walking up a curving concrete path that led up the hill towards the front entrance. “No, not mad. Just very upset. She said she saw you as soon as you walked into that graveyard. And she knew what you were planning. Her cell phone battery was almost dead and she was trying to plug it in so she could call you. She felt helpless.”

  I sighed as the guilt crept in, resting its burdensome weight upon my shoulders.

  “Tell her I’m sorry. I—“

  “Tell her yourself,” Aaron said, “It’s been three days and you haven’t returned any of her calls. She’s worried.”

  “I broke my promise to her,” I replied, my voice cracking a little.

  “I’m sure she’s aware of that, but that’s not what she cares about. It’s you and how you’re doing right now that concerns her.”

  “I’m just dreading it. I know it’s going to be an emotional conversation… I’m not good at those.”

  Aaron gave a quick scoff as he shook his head. “You owe it to her.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The proverbial uncomfortable silence followed.

  “Hey, look, umm, I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose someone you really care about. I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through, but—“

  “Bullshit,” I whispered. I leaned towards him and we locked eyes. “What Louis did to you and your family was far worse than what he did to me. He killed your mother and abducted your sister on the same day, held her captive for years—“

  Aaron held his hand up, “I know. I was referring to how I lost Ana, not my family.”

  “Ah,” I replied. “You know, I’m surprised you never asked Tessa to help you with that. She found my dad.”

  “No, it was actually my own dad that did that. Tessa just pestered him until he finally caved and agreed to help.”

  The front doors were of the automatic variety, made of glass and sliding apart on a track. Aaron stopped me just as I was about to approach the front desk for check-in.

  “Hey, listen. I know now’s not a good time, but whenever you get situated and you’re, you know, feeling better, give me a call. There’s something I want to bounce off of you, just not now.”

  “Dan & Bruno’s?” I asked as I noted the image that was floating up to the surface of his thoughts. “What about it?”

  Aaron sighed. “I read your book again awhile back. Those two guys that were there that night, the ones that tipped you off about Milton’s Halloween party…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Were they there at Milton’s that night? When you did your, you know, your thing?”

  I searched my memori
es, doing my best to delve deep, which took me a few moments.

  “No. No they weren’t. Damn, I wonder why. They should’ve been.”

  Then I saw Aaron’s theory.

  “Wait, holy shit!” I said, my voice rising.

  Aaron hushed me with a stern look and another raised hand. “It’s just an idea.”

  “No. I think you’re right. Son of a bitch, those two guys weren’t even real. Louis just…”

  My thoughts and my voice trailed off as I took it all in. I shouldn’t have been getting this upset right before checking into the loony bin, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Calm down,” Aaron said in a low whisper.

  “Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down,” I growled through clenched teeth. “Louis USED me! He couldn’t take out Milton himself. It was in your journal. Milton had a binding curse on Louis, just like the one Louis put on YOU!”

  Aaron nodded his head. “Exactly.”

  “I read their thoughts. I could feel their emotions. It’s all…”

  I shook my head, feeling that old rage resurfacing. I wanted to take my duffel bag and toss it into the lobby television I could hear chattering a few yards away.

  “Easy, easy,” Aaron said as he placed a hand on my shoulder, “My point is it all just seems too convenient. There’s always the possibility they were real, maybe paid actors—“

  “Oh, please. You know I would’ve picked that up. No, they were just another one of his damned illusions. That’s why he STALKED me all those years. Did you figure that out?”

  Aaron furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “The first time he appeared was when I took out Jack. He didn’t appear again until I was getting ready to go after Galen. And when things started to go south he helped. And when I was in Milton’s mansion, he kept helping. Again and again…”

  I looked Aaron squarely in the eyes. “Louis is an egotistical, narcissistic sociopath. He cares nothing, I mean, not a damn thing, for anyone but himself. Why would he help anyone?”

  “I get what you’re saying,” my friend replied, “In you he saw a means to an end.”

  “Right,” I said, nodding my head in quick spastic movements. “The spell barred him from doing anything even remotely hostile towards Milton. He couldn’t touch him, cast against him or order anybody to hurt him. With me, all he had to do was let me know where the party was.”

  * * *

  The first time I was handed my meds, I couldn’t help but laugh. They were in this little plastic cup, off-white and translucent. It reminded me so much of the plastic cups of bread and water we received during the Sacrament service in the Mormon church that all I could think was, My God, how apropos.

  The more I denied being anorexic the less they believed me. All I said was when I get depressed, sometimes I forget to eat. The bastards actually made me stand on a weight scale backwards every morning when they checked my vitals. It was infuriating. I wanted to scream at them that I wasn’t some bulimic teenage girl.

  After breakfast was Community Group, where we all sat in a circle and shared our problems, thoughts, feelings and the like. This was the part of my daily routine I dreaded the most. Public speaking ain’t my thing. Whenever I got called upon and everyone turned to look at me, I just wanted to crawl right out my skin.

  “So I’m going to tell you right off the bat what I think you have,” Dr Fitzgerald, my assigned psychiatrist stated bluntly, “Now if you disagree, please feel free to say so. First and foremost, is your PTSD. Do you know what that is?”

  “Yup,” I replied.

  He flipped through some sheets on a clipboard. “That of course stems from what your father did—“

  “My adoptive father. My bio-dad is actually a pretty good guy.”

  “Ah, okay. Sorry about that. My apologies.”

  I shrugged, “No worries.”

  “The second major issue, of course, was the death of your girlfriend. She, uh… Oh, she died in 9/11?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Sweet mother, I am so sorry.”

  I waved a hand in dismissal as I stared down at the piece of floor in between my shoes. “It’s been three years.”

  * * *

  Televisions weren’t allowed in patients’ rooms. Instead there was a large tv set up in a common rec center. It was meant to encourage the patients to interact with each other and be social, something which offended my very nature.

  I was there one evening after dinner when one of the orderlies (commonly referred to as techs) wheeled in a woman whose mental impairments were obviously far greater than those of the rest of the patients, at least the ones I’d already met. Her head lolled to one side as her eyes casually perused the room and its occupants. She kept both of her hands up high against her chest, fingers curling and sometimes pointing outward in random patterns.

  “Your favorite show’s coming on in a few minutes, Miss Betty,” the tech said as he set the brake on her wheelchair, “I’ll be back for you in an hour, okay?”

  The woman angled her chin upward and replied with “Ahhheennnn…” The tech clearly understood she was saying “alright” and gave her a little wave goodbye as he walked off.

  Curious, I touched her mind. Nothing forceful, just a slight passing glance into her thoughts.

  Her posture immediately stiffened. She looked around for a second or two, until her eyes found mine. She regarded me for a moment. And then…

  (hello)

  I jumped. I knew that had come from her, but I couldn’t believe it was even possible. Dumbfounded, I couldn’t think of a reply.

  (are you shy? that’s okay. sometimes i’m shy too)

  I looked down, my mouth fumbling for words. I could feel a wave of sadness emanating from her. She thought I didn’t want to talk to her, the same way most people didn’t.

  My heart broke.

  (my name’s jeshua)

  She smiled. And as much as I hate admitting it, it was hard to look at. Though I tried my damnedest not to show it. Not one single tooth was straight, they all seemed to erupt from her gums at various angles.

  (betty)

  I smiled back at her. (it’s good to meet you, betty)

  (you’re new here)

  I nodded, (yeah, i’m probably gonna be here a few weeks, maybe more)

  She furrowed her brow, (you tried to hurt yourself. why?)

  (i don’t know if you’d understand. it’s complicated)

  (i understand a lot more than people think i do. but it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me)

  (i was in a really bad place. life got really hard and i thought it was the best solution)

  Betty tilted her head up and barked a short laugh; it came out sounding more like a hiccup.

  (a hard life in a bad place? nahh I wouldn’t understand that at all)

  * * *

  I never even heard the door open. I had my headphones in, with the volume on my portable cd player cranked full blast. Listening to metal before bed is still one of my nightly rituals. Helps me relax.

  I felt her touch my mind just a split-second before I felt her jab her finger into my shoulder with a not-so-gentle poke. My eyes snapped open and I recognized the intruder.

  “Tessa! Geez!” I said as I pulled off the headset and sat up.

  Laughing, she leaned down and gave me a hug. “That shit sounds terrible!”

  “Meh, to each his own,” I replied, hitting the pause button, “You’re supposed to be in college. This is your first semester.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve only got classes Monday through Thursday. I figured I’d take a three-day weekend and fly up here to visit.”

  I regarded her with a cautious scrutiny; if I scanned her, she’d know it. I offered up a weak smile and looked away.

  “Just thought you’d shell out a few hundred bucks for a plane ticket, spur of the moment, just for the hell of it?” I asked.

  She looked down and fidgeted with the bottom of her t-shirt, “I just needed to lay eyes o
n you. Make sure you’re okay, you know?”

  I sat silent for a moment, fighting the tightness that was welling up in my throat, threatening to escape as a sob if I dared to open my mouth.

  Finally, holding my breath, I whispered, “Yeah, I know…” It came out more troubled and raspy than I would have preferred.

  “Tessa, look, I’m sorry you saw what you did. I had no idea that was going to happen—“

  “Is that all you’re sorry for?” she snapped, “You promised me! You said you’d call if you ever—“

  “I know, I know,” I pleaded as I sat up on the edge of the bed, hands mock-juggling in front of my chest as if trying to conjure up the right words to make this better, make this okay.

  “I was just… I was just at my absolute limit of all I could take. It was too damn much. I just want the pain to go away…”

  My voice cracked as I uttered those last few words. I couldn’t hold it in. The emotional dam broke and I buried my face in my hands. God, how I hate crying.

  Tessa seized me with her hug, wrapping her arms tightly around the back of my neck and kissing the top of my head. We stayed like that for a while. I could feel her tears getting my hair wet.

  “You have people in your life that love you, including me. You know that?”

  “Yeah... Yeah, I do.”

  “I want you to remember something, okay?”

  “Okay…”

  “When you hurt yourself, you hurt everyone that loves you. When you put a gun up to your head, you’re doing that to everyone who loves you. When you put a knife up to your wrists, you’re cutting everyone that loves you. Got it?”

  “Yeah… I got it.”

  Author’s Note 2

  Writing Open Grave so far has been an unusual experience for me, primarily due to the book’s duality. It’s two stories within a novel that serves as both sequel and prequel to A Guardian of Innocents. I can’t seem to sit myself down and focus on one story at a time. Instead, I hop back and forth, taking potshots at each one during almost every writing session.

  I extended Excerpt 1, stretching it out to include a scene with Tessa that I really like. But now it’s time for the other half of the story to get a little airtime, and for Aaron to find his voice…