In the Shadow of Angels: The Guardian Series 1

by Savage, Fanny Lee

  “Do you like the fact that he watched you?” Henri’s voice is verging on mad. I shrink back at his anger. “Is that what it is? Your protector. He’s not so powerful now is he?”

  “He’s more powerful than you.”

  “Is that why you want to fuck him?” His voice is too loud and he shakes my head. “You fucking whore! You’d fuck everyone except me!”

  Henri’s eyes are wild. The boy I loved has left, replaced by this mad man with dark eyes and a crazed face. My heart starts to pound and the air is full of my fear. “If you hurt me, Aydin will break your neck.”

  This was the wrong thing to say. Henri’s face twists, his mouth turns down, contorting at my words. He pulls violently at my hair, yanking my head back further, forcing a shriek from my mouth. His other hand grabs my face, the fingers sinking into my cheeks. A nasty smile turns his once beautiful mouth, cruel.

  “Is that what you think? You think he has any power over me? He can’t do anything to me. Aydin is not allowed to touch you! He’s privileged I even allow him to talk to you!” He screams the last few words. The manic sounds ricochet of the walls, bouncing off the metal containers. It rings out loud and filled with malice. His face is inches from mine, his eyes insane. His anger fuels my own. I am furious, scared and just as crazed. Full of bad ideas and have lost all control of my mouth.

  “He touched me, his hands were all over me,” I smile, my voice low and throaty. I am playing with fire. I know I will get burned. No, engulfed, in its rage. I can’t seem to stop, my vision is blurred, I can only see red.

  Henri shoves me hard, my back hitting a table with painful force. The pain sears through me and I cry out. He moves forward pressing his body to mine. His fingers twist my hair pulling the strands harder. His other hand moves down, lifting the dress I had picked out, the one I know he likes. With pretty lace on the low cut neckline and the slit that shows my thighs. Panic rises in my throat. Razor sharp hands, cutting the flesh, choking me.

  “You like him, huh?” His voice is deep and hoarse. His hand slides under the thin fabric of my underwear, digging into the skin of my backside. Shocked, I hit him hard, knocking into this temple. I shove at his chest, pushing, desperate to get away. Tears burn. I scream at him, throaty desperate sounds, muffled by the tall metal cisterns.

  The force of his hand hitting my face turns the corners of my eyes black. The pain rages in my skull, my eyes blur. I stop struggling as pain radiates from my mouth. He pulls back and hits me again, the back of his hand splitting the skin. My scream catches in my throat.

  Henri turns me away from him, the hand intertwined in my hair pushes my face down toward the table. My nose hits hardwood. The shock forces a small grunt of pain from me. Trickles of blood flow out, wet and warm. He holds my face to the jagged wood, smearing my cheeks in the blood.

  My cheek burns, my mouth throbs. I can’t scream. I can’t breathe. My arms are weak as I try to push back from the table. Henri presses me down. Holds me there, forces me still. His strength is unbelievable. He outweighs me, he is taller, larger, meaner. Driven.

  Henri grinds against me harder, I can feel his excitement through his jeans, the fabric rough on my skin. His thigh spreads my legs apart. His hands dig into my skin, pulling at my panties, possessive and angry. The sound of his zipper makes me freeze. I choke on the realization of what is to come.

  My mind goes blank, only one picture taking focus. My childhood home. Emily and I running through the woods, our hair flowing behind us, our mouths open in screams of delight. Henri chasing us. He is going to catch us unless we run fast. Faster. The sun touches the tips of the leaves, filtering through the thin canopy of live oaks. Spindly pines fighting for their space on the forest floor, their fuzzy hands reaching for the sky. Moss hangs, the velvety fingers caressing the arms of the trees. Leaves and dirt under our feet. Soft ferns reach out brushing our ankles. The earth is damp, rich with the scent of moist dirt and decaying leaves. The air light and fill of promise.

  And then he is gone. There is complete silence. I push back quickly turning and pulling my dress back down. Sobs catch in my throat. Blood runs slow from my nose and a split on my bottom lip. I wipe at it, slick and warm. My stomach churns and I bring my thighs together tight.

  Lucius’ soft, almost boyish face, looks back at me, his mouth a thin line. He stands perfectly still, his huge hand holding Henri by the back of the neck. Henri’s arms are stretched out in surrender as if a gun is pointed in his face. There may as well be. Lucius’ face is a mask of serenity, but his eyes give him away. The dark blue is clouded, a storm of rage behind them, so intense I look away.

  Lucius releases Henri and gently smooths his brown hair. He slaps Henri’s cheek, playfully, and smiles. “You play too rough, my boy.” Lucius sounds almost cheerful, as if he hadn’t just stopped Henri...I close my eyes and fight the tears.

  Lucius fixes Henri’s shirt and pulls his jeans around his hips. Henri’s jaw clenches, his eyes stare straight ahead as Lucius buttons the pants, pulls at the zipper, tugging it closed.

  “Abigail would like to have a word with you. Don’t worry. I’ll get Charlotte home safe. I know how you worry over her,” Lucius says, a smile pressed on his lips.

  Henri walks out, his back stiff, fear flowing from him, mixed with rage.

  Lucius steps to me holding out a white cloth. My body is numb. I can’t move. I am made of ice. Frozen in place, my feet binding me to the floor, the ice gliding up freezing my arms, chilling my brain that refuses to work. When I don’t reach for it, Lucius is brings it to my face, wiping the blood from my nose.

  “Charlotte,” Lucius’ voice is honey. His softness melts me and my knees weaken. “You are OK now, he has left and he won’t touch you again.”

  “OK,” I nod, understanding. Lucius starts to pace in front on me, his brows together, his face... I’m not sure what his face holds. Fear?

  “Aydin is going to kill me.” Lucius’s voice is hoarse, his words a statement. “He’s going to fucking kill me.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Henri, almost...you know....and you’re worried about Aydin?”

  “I’m your Guardian. Henri should never have been left alone with you,” Lucius pauses his manic pacing. “Aydin told me to watch him.”

  Lucius takes my hand in his and slowly walks me outside. Bile rises in my throat. The tears are back, they sting at my eyes, spilling, burning the scrapes on my face. My stomach churns and I crumble, falling down to the small stones. Lucius pulls me up. I am placed in a car and he starts the ignition. A cold blast of air brings me center. He is taking me back.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  It is my own private nightmare, replaying the same scene over and over. A demented song on the record player. Quiet and slightly out of tune. The sounds are tinny and fill the day with its promise of horror. Only problem; I am awake. Acutely aware of the insanity I am trapped in.

  Leaving it seems, is not an option.

  Lance stands in front of the black car I am trying to get into. He refuses to budge. Pinstripe suit, whose name I discovered, is Edward, stands next to him. They both stare back with straight faces, no emotion at all. My suitcases are all packed and lay at my feet. I’m getting the hell out of here. At least, I’m trying if they’d just cooperate.

  “I am sorry, Ms. Duval, but I am not allowed to let you leave,” Lance says.

  I try again to get past him into the car, but he’s like a statue, completely unmovable.

  “You can’t fucking keep me here!” I scream and hit him with my purse, spitting a few choice words in his direction. He still won’t move. Part of me knows he is simply doing what he has been told. Aydin can be pretty scary looking. He is the one that has instructed the suits, Lance and Edward included, to make sure that everyone is safe. I really wish he was here. There is no way he would keep me from leaving.

  I look back to Lance and my shoulders droop. The fact he is not allowing to me leave is unreal. I was assaulted, by the very person I ha
d once loved, and am now being held a virtual prisoner.

  “Do you know what just happened, Lance?” I stand close, making sure he understands just how pissed, hurt and betrayed I am. “And you’re going to make me stay here, with him?”

  “My instructions are to keep you here, Ms. Duval,” Lance says. He looks to Edward, who walks to sit in the driver’s seat.

  “Fine. Then I’ll walk.” I turn and set off down the circular drive. Freaking jerk. I’ll go to the damn town and find someone there to help me. It is getting late, the moon is shining bright in the sky. Lucius left me in my room only a few hours ago. That is how long it took me to pack up my clothing and drag it downstairs. No one stopped me then. I’ll be damned if they stop me now.

  The sound of tires coming up behind me force me to turn and the car stops next to me. Lance is in the passenger seat, Edward at the wheel.

  “Ms. Duval, we will take you where you want to go, but Lucius will only come to collect you,” Edward says. His face is kind and I can tell he feels bad.

  “Thank you,” I say and climb in the back seat. “I’ll take my chances.” There is no way that Lucius will come to get me. His job is to make sure I am protected, and here in this demon infested castle, I am definitely not safe.

  ----------

  Lance doesn’t lie. We are only an hour’s drive from the chateau. Edward doesn’t exactly have a lead foot, driving slower than a month full of Sundays. He pulls over on the old dirt road and removes his hands from the wheel. Both men sit, neither speaking.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. “You said you would take me where ever I wanted to go, Lance.”

  My door opens and I’m shoved to the opposite side of the car. Lucius slides in next to me and closes the door with a slam. Lucius grins, his pretty curls flopping and wraps his arm over my shoulder. “Sorry gentlemen, I would have been here sooner, but well, I stopped for a bite to eat.”

  “You just killed someone?” I scream in horror.

  “What? No. Silly, Little Bird. She is in a very deep and satisfied sleep in her bed,” Lucius grins, ear to ear.

  “So, you just use super mind-bending powers to convince a woman to sleep with you, then .... you know.” I can’t even say it.

  “I have no need to use my mind powers to bed a woman,” he says and flexes the muscled arm around my shoulders. “According to you, I am a very handsome specimen.”

  “There is something wrong with you,” I say, disgusted and look out the window.

  “More than likely,” Lucius agrees and pulls me closer. I try to back away, but he refuses to let go. “Let’s go, Eddie,” he says and taps on the headrest.

  I shove at his chest, but, well, he’s huge and doesn’t move. His body is solid, its like fighting with a pro wrestler, completely futile. “You are seriously going to take me back there?”

  “Yes, Little Bird.”

  “After what Henri tried to do?”

  “You needn’t worry about Henri, Charlotte.” Lucius’ eyes darken and he kisses my forehead.

  “You lie like a no-legged dog!” I scream and hit his chest. “You’re supposed to keep me safe and here you are taking me right back to the wolfs den!”

  “That colorful southern tongue comes out when you are angry!” Lucius laughs and squeezes my shoulder.

  “You sick, twisted, mother-fucking son of a coward!” I scream. The tears start. Damn it. Red blurs my vision. “I bet your mother is real proud of you!”

  “Hey, no need to bring my mother into this.”

  “Fuck you, Lucius!” I’m crying, rage burning down my cheeks. “Do you fucking get employee of the fucking month for this?”

  “My goodness, pretty little Charlotte, you could make a Roman blush,” Lucius laughs and pulls me closer. “Don’t let Aydin hear that mouth, he’d have a brain aneurysm.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The music of insanity plays in my ears. Claudette pours wine in my glass. I sit, in a pretty embroidered dress, delicate yellow flowers woven in the chenille overlay. It is short, my legs are exposed. Deep bruises stare out at everyone, angry and dark on my legs.

  No one speaks of the pink lacerations on my cheek, the thin layers of skin peeled back and raw. Or of the faint bruise under my eyes, the impact of my nose hitting the table. My lip is swollen slightly, a thin slice of broken skin in the corner. They ignore the dark bruises on my arms and thighs, the distinct outline of fingers giving away my secret. Their secret.

  It is madness, it swirls around my head, and I stare at them in disbelief. I question of if I am dreaming. Surely, if they don’t see it, then it never happened. But I can feel it. It tears into me and makes me want to rip my hair out, there is no escaping it. Nothing can make the feeling go away, his intent to destroy me. My eyes meet Henri’s, it still lingers, his hidden part.

  Ashur chats with my mother and Claudette. He smiles with love for his daughter. His fingers play with my mother’s hands, intertwining their fingers. Occasionally, he reaches up and skims his fingers over her hair.

  My mother.

  Her honey hair is tied back, loose, off her neck, enamel flower pins holding it in place. I am struck again by her young face. It is stronger than mine, her jaw harder, more square. I used to think she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Surely she must have been a princess of some far off land, taken away from her castle by her knight in armor, my handsome dark-eyed father. Night skies, filled with the light of a thousand stars, the eyes of the angels in heaven upon them, keeping them safe and free. Maybe he had stolen her away because her belly was already showing their secret love to the world. Emily and I, her two angels.

  She has returned to her castle, and I wonder how many myths she holds. Seeing her face light up whenever she sees me, stings my soul. I want to hate her and pretend she is a horrible creature. But it hurts too much.

  Abigail talks to Ashur, her is voice pleasant and cheery. Her eyes bright and blue, my eyes, never looking directly at me. When Henri speaks, she looks his way and talks back. My mother talks to him. I clutch the hem of my dress, the pain is too strong. I may actually break from it.

  I can’t feel anymore, my heart has been left in that large empty room with metal beams. I can’t feel the pain, there is simply no more room. I pack up Henri’s anger and store it away, behind Emily’s face and my mother’s lies. My insides have been replaced with concrete, my bones made of steel.

  I sip my wine, but I know better. They aren’t going to catch me off guard again. I wanted to stay hidden, tucked away in my room, but I knew if I hadn’t shown up, Henri would have won. He would have seen that he had broken something in me. I refuse to be broken.

  My eyes drift to Lucius. He is watching the conversation and occasionally looks my way. Our eyes meet and I see it. He feels guilt. He knows how bad this hurts. Lucius turns back and watches Claudette talk, watches Henri wave his arms and laugh. Henri is telling a story. Something about Nanny and a wild hog.

  I remember. When we were seventeen, Nanny had opened the house to let the crisp spring air in. Henri had taken me to the mill. We had been holding hands, he had been placing small kisses over my brow. So tender. I close my eyes at the memory. Henri. Sweet and loving. We had heard Nanny’s screams all the way from the main house. Henri had run, so fast, I couldn’t keep up.

  It is a funny story, a happy memory. A wild hog had wandered into the house and was trapped in the kitchen with Nanny. She was screaming, standing on the kitchen chair, her arms waving wildly about her. Emily had saved the day by getting a long broom and yelling until the hog ran out of the house.

  I can’t laugh or share in the story, filling in the details, about how Nanny had cursed, the foulest language we had ever heard from her. I sit mute. He is telling it for me, but I remember, he doesn’t have to remind me. Henri used to be good.

  Part of me can see it. The lies they tell themselves so they can live in it. I even understand it. There is great power here, in the darkness of this world. In the lust
for blood, for passion. The draw to power and the sins of the flesh. They all push away the ugly part, keep the secrets of their life and their cruelty hidden. Locked in trunks, out of the light of day. But it pounds, crashing at the sides, threatening to break free. Violence and blackness. Greed and sin. Even Aydin can’t keep himself from it.

  “Isn’t that right?” Henri asks me.

  Metal. I am made of metal.

  “I wasn’t paying attention,” I say, dryly, the sound of my voice surprises me.

  “Nanny swore she would find that hog and roast him for dinner,” he says, laughing. I used to love his laugh.

  “Nanny always had a vengeful streak,” I say. “Must be where I got it.”

  “You got that temper from your mother,” Henri says, he’s still laughing, it is all so funny.

  “You should watch that temper, Charlotte,” Claudette smiles at me. “It’ll get you in trouble one day,” she laughs. She actually laughs, pretty and cruel. It matches the tinny music of my life.

  I’d love to snatch her bald.

  My wine calls to me. It can wash away the tight feeling in my chest. I can pretend. Just like them. Henri’s hands never forced me, never moved over places without my consent. Violating. Hating. I can lie too. I don’t have to feel any of it.

  Metal. I am made of metal.

  Claudette stands and glides to Lucius, his eyes meet hers and they darken. Lust fills them, and he takes her outstretched hand in his, brushing his lips softly against her fingers. Does he know that underneath her beautiful mask, the inside is lined in black? He has to. She barely bothers to conceal it.

  They walk, without a word, from the room. Lucius pulled along by her wickedness, his boy face accepting. He does know of her true nature. He loves her anyway. Does he kiss her lips, blinding himself to her cruel ways, pushing aside the mean remarks and twisted smile? Taking the bits that are offered, ignoring the rest? As I have done, because simply, they aren’t all bad. It makes life bearable, pushing away the ugly, remembering only the good. The flashes of beauty and kindness. Aydin was wrong. I do hide the ugliness. I store it away and pretend I can’t see it.