In the Shadow of Angels: The Guardian Series 1

by Savage, Fanny Lee

  “You are sad because you lost your angel,” Emily’s voice is soft, musical. The sound in the distance comes closer. Louder.

  Emily lets go of her angel and reaches to touch my face. Her touch is hot and surges through me, my skin burning. Her eyes change, the blue paling in the light, turning to a smokey glass. Silver flecks appear. I move my eyes over her face to her mouth, the lips are full and large with well-defined peaks, soft black hair frames them. My brows turn down confused, and I look back to see Emily has disappeared.

  Aydin lies next to me. His hand touching my face, my skin on fire. His thin fingers stroke my cheek. They move over my lips, outlining them, soft subtle touches.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte,” he says, his lips unmoving. He doesn’t need to speak. I can feel him, hear his thoughts. My heart aches.

  Noise fills my head, but I still can’t place the sounds. They are too far away. Aydin’s fingers move over my neck, grazing over the scar on my collar bone. His gray eyes hold mine, I can’t tear them away, even if I want to. His fingers brush over my arm, my abdomen, further down. Aydin’s hand glide under my clothes and touches me hard, between my legs. I gasp loud, and startle awake.

  I half expect to see him there, his hand against me, his long body laid out. The dream was so vivid, my body pulses. Hot air bursts from me and I relax. The door to my terrace is open, cool night air blows the heavy curtains. Jasmine fills the room.

  I can’t help the tears that fall. I have not had a single peaceful dream since Emily’s death. She has followed me, tormented me. There is this hollow feeling in my heart when I should be relieved. Part of me worries she will not return. That maybe I have laid Emily to rest and she won’t visit me again. The thought of not seeing her tears at me. I’d give anything to see her again. Even if it means I will be chased in nightmares forever.

  Soft sounds fill the room, distant and melancholy. I recognize it, finally. The sounds of the piano from my childhood. Memories of Emily and I, laying in bed, rush at me. Henri stroking the skin on our legs, his touch gentle. The weight of his head resting on my hip. The distant piano playing the familiar songs.

  I stand, wary, but walk into the hall. I follow the sound, down the stairs to the main entrance, through the empty corridor. The piano gets louder, still muffled, but I know the song. It is heavy with deep sorrow. I can imagine his fingers touching the keys, his pain spilling out, onto them.

  The doors to the Great Hall open smoothly. I push slowly, not wanting him to hear me. The song changes. He has moved on to Beethoven, Moonlight Sonata. My chest tightens. I walk into the Great Hall, the hollow noise fills the room. It echoes off the painted walls and the clear crystals in the chandelier. I hold my breath, wanting to remain invisible, scared to break his trance.

  Aydin leans over the grand piano, his back to me. His body moves slightly as his hands glide over the keys. His shoulders hunched over, his head bent. He pours every ounce of himself into the music. Elongating each tune, making it sound hollow and lost. The vision is agonizing. I stand frozen, my feet planted, memorized.

  He can’t see me or feel me. He is lost. Seeing only what drives his hands to move over the piano. Pieces of his past, of a life that is a mystery. I flash on the dream, his hand on me, my entire body heats, the pulse returning.

  The music crashes, stopping abruptly. Aydin turns to face me; he looks surprised that I have managed to sneak up on him. The dark brows over his gray eyes turn down, almost confused. My hands run down the soft material of the nightgown I wear, and stop at the hem, too high on my thighs.

  “It was you,” I whisper.

  I laid in bed at night and felt him, bathing in his energy. It hadn’t been my father who played all those nights. It had been Aydin. He plays now, with the same torment as he had my entire life.

  Aydin doesn’t respond to my statement. Instead, he turns back to the piano, his fingers slightly touching the keys. Delicate tinkling sounds flutter out. Like the voices of fairies, soft bells. His fingers press harder, defining the sounds. I recognize the tune immediately. A fragile song, a Chopin nocturne, though I don’t know which one. It was usually the last song before sleep came.

  My eyes go around the elaborate room. The low light flickers from the chandeliers, the cool breeze of the open doors moving them. Lights glisten over the soft painted ladies, and they dance to the sounds that come from the piano. They live suspended until Aydin’s delicate touch wakens their ghosts. I hadn’t realized how much I have missed the songs. Standing in the Great Hall, the sound filling me, I feel the years that I missed him. It was him after all that had left me breathless.

  Aydin continues to ignore me, playing the piano. I walk closer so I can see his hands move gracefully over the keys. His face is serene, his eyes soft and concentrated. I feel obsessed, my mind bringing the dream into focus.

  “It’s very distracting having you standing there,” he says, finally looking up me. His eyes have the silver flecks, like in my dream, the iris too pale to belong to a human. Then again, he is anything but.

  “I want it back,” I say. The words come out, a foreign sound, I’m not sure of their meaning at first.

  He ignores me and goes back to playing the piano.

  “My charm, Aydin, you took it,” I say. Emily had shown me. Or rather my own conciseness had shown me.

  “I took it because you wouldn’t be able to look at it.”

  “You had no right.”

  “Can you bear to look at your angel now?” Aydin stands, his hand moves to his neck, backing away from the piano. I look away. He knows my truth and my lies. “Then I will keep it until you can.”

  My brain is cracking. My knees are weak and I sit on the bench. I rub my face with my hands, my eyes tired. My body is tired. The very pit of me aches though it feels distant and unreal, belonging to someone else. But, it is mine alone.

  “Charlotte,” Aydin says, his voice is softer. I look up to see his hand outstretched. “Come.”

  He’s not supposed to be alone with me, yet we keep ending up together. Mostly, it’s my doing. Staying away from his seems impossible. I place my hand in his and he pulls me up.

  Aydin guides me to the double doors, leading me outside. The smell of jasmine is stronger here, mixed with lavender, and I suck it in. His hand feels light in mine, the skin is cool, but heat radiates from him. He pulls lightly, forcing me to follow him deeper into the gardens.

  “Where are we going?” My heart is starting to race.

  “I want to show you something.”

  We stop outside the wooden gate to the pool. Aydin opens it slowly and pulls me in behind him. The water moves; dark satin waves. The only sounds are the faint chirps of crickets and my heart drumming in my ears.

  “Are we going for a swim?” I ask, nervously. I try to breathe past tension in my chest, but I can’t hide it. It leaks out into the air around us.

  “Would you like to?” Aydin asks, grinning. “I know how much you enjoy late night swims.”

  My stomach drops, but he is teasing. I release a shuddered breath. “Why are we here?”

  “I wanted someplace quiet,” he says. “Where we won’t be interrupted.”

  Lucius is right, I can’t seem to keep my mind from wandering into lewd places.

  Aydin laughs quietly, more to himself. “You are so concerned with want we can and cannot do. I thought I would show you.”

  I look wearily at him. “And, what exactly is that?”

  “Turn around.”

  My heart falls to my stomach. I’m not sure what he has planned, I’m not sure I really want to know. Especially if I can’t see what he’s up to. He waits, rather impatiently, for me to follow his order. I turn my back to him and face the pool. He is standing behind me, so suddenly, I gasp. He is close, so close, I can smell him. The metallic, electric scent he carries, with its faint undertone. The spicy scent of sandalwood. I smile. He’s invaded every part of my life, all the way down to my favorite smells.

  “Close your
eyes.” Aydin’s chest brushes over the bare skin on my back. I suddenly feel under-dressed and vulnerable. His hand covers my eyes lightly, forcing them shut. “Keep them closed.”

  Aydin brushes his fingers lightly, from my shoulders to the backs of my hands. My body relaxes and I sink back into him. It is impossible to tell if he is making me feel calm or if this is what he does to me.

  “Take a deep breath,” his voice is close, near my ear.

  I inhale deeply, his fingers intertwine in mine and our hands move up together, wrapping around me. I am engulfed in him, encircled in his warmth. My breath rushes out. My body starts to tremble, betraying me. Aydin is too close. My chest tightens and my entire body stiffens.

  “Shhh.” Aydin squeezes my hands tightly in his. “Relax.”

  It is an impossible task, he is too consuming. His fingers spread out, splaying my fingers under his, over the skin on my chest. He moves closer, pressing into my back. His body is hard and lean. My dream comes crashing into me. I can’t breathe; my eyes pop open.

  “I am going to show you something, but you have to relax,” he says. I can hear the laugh in his voice. I take another deep breath and ease into him. My anxiety is thick, almost alive. I close my eyes and release a shaky breath.

  Light touches the corners of my eyes. I squeeze them closed tighter, and a faint flicker of movement stills me. Aydin’s fingers dig deeper into the skin over my chest. The light behind my eyes brightens. His hand moves to my neck, under my chin, forcing my head back slightly. His fingers move gently around my jaw, pressing into the pulse. “Open your eyes.”

  A burst of light makes me gasp. The mountains stand before me, glistening in a halo of soft light. There are bits of color in everything. It is as if the moon highlights every dark shadow and brings it to life. The stars shine, brighter, glowing around the edges. Colors swirl, like the inside of an oyster shell, in the royal blue of the night sky. The stars seem endless, stretching out and away from us, forever. Sounds of moving water fill my ears. The smell of earth, a rich, thick, dry scent hits my nose. There are faint undertones, light crisp scents of fruit, a deeper smell of grass and fresh water. My skin tingles, almost painful, as the wind brushes over me. Tears prick behind my eyes, it is all too intense.

  Aydin lets me go. The scene fades. The glowing light dims and the colors darken. I am left staring at the distant mountains above the pool and the black night sky. He is still at my back and I sink into him, breathless.“What was that?”

  “How I see the world,” he whispers, close to my ear.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I can share pictures, things I have seen.”

  I turn to face him. The world is dull and lifeless after what I have just seen. He is smiling, not the small closed smile he shows everyone, but his smile. His real face. The Aydin that is soft and kind. He is entrusting me to see past the charade, to see him.

  “You have let me see through your eyes, the beauty you create with your camera,” he says. “I wanted to show you the way I see the world.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Normal. That is what he promised. It is still early, the sun has a few more hours before it is to set. Henri has taken me to the village for dinner and we sit in a small restaurant, eating rich foods and laughing. It does feel normal. It is nice, and for the first time in days I feel relaxed.

  The chateau is like living in another dimension. I live in the night almost as much as my mother. Being out where people still smile, they laugh in the sun and play with their children, I am reminded that the outside world does exist. I have been trapped in the dark of the castle. It’s secrets keep me cold and under a spell. Sitting in the restaurant, I can breathe fresh unstained air. No worrying about saying the wrong thing, trying to keep Emily’s secret. And now, to keep Aydin’s.

  Henri is chatting about something. I’m not paying attention, just watching his lips move. Enjoying the normalcy, and the way he looks at me. Coyly. Sharing the knowledge that we attract each other. Like, the world I have discovered in France doesn’t exist. He is beautiful, he is good. I push away his outburst, the night of the Celebration and his lies, pretending everything is OK.

  I can do this. I can be with Henri. I can live in France and make love to the boy I have wanted my entire life. I can love him the way I used to. It will be easy. We can’t regain what we had been, but maybe we can build something else. Something stronger, with more substance.

  But, Aydin forces his way into the fantasy. I keep remembering Lucius’ words. Don’t tempt him. It is all I want to do. Aydin consumes every waking moment. It has become worse, and I have allowed him to take front and center. It is like he has awakened something in me, a part I thought had died with Emily. Pieces that were locked away, the ones that carry happiness and promise.

  Part of me wants to be rid of him. He is too heavy, but he refuses to leave me in peace. The worst part is Aydin has left for his trip, and it has been almost a week since I have seen him. It is disturbing how much I think of him. And his desire. I can’t push it away. I want it, I want him, his everything. He’s fed me bits, but I am a greedy creature and want more. He has shown me his world, its beauty, through his eyes. I don’t know why. I don’t feel like I am worthy of any of his offerings. I know I am not.

  “You aren’t listening,” Henri says.

  “Sorry, I was distracted,” I confess. “My life has become very strange.”

  Henri holds his hand up, “No, we aren’t talking about any of it today. You need a break. Hell, I need a break.”

  I agree, I do need a break. How did he grow up with this and turn out sane? Maybe he hasn’t. Perhaps he wears a mask like everyone else.

  Henri orders sweet desserts and insists on feeding me bits. His fingers graze my lips, my face. He is sensual and loving. I return it, kissing the tips of his fingers as they touch my mouth. I ignore Aydin’s eyes when I close mine, and kiss Henri’s lips.

  “Maybe we should get back,” Henri says, his voice low.

  I smile, but shake my head. I don’t want to. The chateau is too filled, too empty.

  “Show me the winery,” I suggest. “I’ve been here two weeks and have yet to see it.”

  Henri grins. “We can do that.”

  We walk, hand in hand, through the vineyards. The winery comes into view. Its thick walls and tiled roof spans out over a low hill. Tall windows look out over the fields, empty black eyes. A few lights shine dimly from the first floor, flickering in the fading daylight.

  Henri guides me toward the back of the building, a second entrance, with large warehouse style doors, that lead to a massive factory. The building attached to the main house is new, he tells me, added only in the last century. The machines used to produce the wine are the same. For hundreds of years the family has kept the winery running, producing the same products. It is romantic. Generations of families holding its traditions.

  I sample some wine, swishing it in my mouth and spitting it out as Henri shows me. I don’t detect the fruity undertones or oaky flavors. I laugh instead. He is in love with me, I can see it. I can feel it every time he brushes his fingers over my arms and cheeks.

  I can do this.

  ---------

  My legs are sore and I keep my hand on the wooden handrail as we walk up the stairs from the dark storage room filled with wooden aging barrels

  “Did Abigail tell you? Of Aydin?” Henri asks, abruptly. He has seemed distracted while we made our way back up from the cellar.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I know she did. That is why you have taken such a sudden interest in him. You always had a thing for wounded animals.” Henri stops, we stand on the landing that leads to the fermentation room. His face has changed. He no longer looks friendly. “He gave you his blood. That is why you feel drawn to him.”

  “I’m not drawn to him,” I lie. Of course, I lie. “And he’s not a wounded animal.”

  Henri sees right through me. I avoid his eyes. He has no
right to even ask. So what if I know? I deserve the truth.

  I am relieved when I walk into the fermentation room. It is dark, no light shines through the grime smeared windows that line the exterior wall. Dim fluorescent tubes hang from exposed beams giving the room a pale blue glow. The metal tanks look dull and dingy in the stark light.There are long wooden tables lined down the center, small boxes stacked at the legs.

  “It’s not your fault. He should never have given you his blood,” Henri says, almost to himself.

  “It’s none of your business, Henri. That is between Aydin and me.”

  “It is my business, you are my business.” Henri’s voice rises as he speaks. His face takes the same angry look I had seen before.

  “No Henri, I am not.”

  “He is not what you think he is, Char.”

  “I’m not discussing this.”

  “He killed Emily!” Henri yells at me. He steps closer.

  “Hardly! You have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I saw her, Char,” his eyes burn into mine. “I was waiting at the plantation with Abigail. By the time we got there, it was too late.”

  I can’t speak and look away. It is unbearable to think he had seen her. But he hadn’t seen what she had done, only what Aydin had created. “It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. I was there remember.”

  Henri grabs my arm, rough. I stumble, losing my balance as he swings me to face him. “You remember don’t you? You remember him there?”

  I refuse to answer. My silence confirms it, but it doesn’t matter. Henri would see through my lies.

  “It’s no wonder you are all over him.” Henri’s voice is cruel, his fingers dig into my arms. “Your savior.”

  “Get your hands off of me,” I spit out. I tug at his hands trying to get away. His grip only tightens. I’m pulled hard against him, and he wraps his fist in my hair, yanking my head back. I gasp as pain shoots through my skull. My hand flies up to grab his, my other pulls at his shirt.