Guardian

by Natasha Deen

  “I’m going to die,” moaned Serge. “I’m going to die all over again.”

  “Probably,” Craig said through gritted teeth.

  “But he’s already—”

  “We’ll never make it.” Craig pivoted.

  “Make it where?”

  “There.” He pointed at an abandoned house. “Drag him there.” Craig put his arm around Serge and resumed carrying him.

  The wailing grew closer.

  Serge slumped forward.

  “Hurry, Maggie!”

  I was too freaked to argue, too terrified to pull rank or ask what he was doing. We dragged Serge through the broken-down wooden fence and onto the middle of the lawn.

  “Keep him upright!” Craig let go.

  My legs buckled under Serge’s weight, but I held him steady.

  Craig dug into his jacket and pulled out a small vial. He uncorked the top and moved in a circle around us, chanting.

  It sounded like Latin, but I didn’t dare question him. There was something in the way he moved, an authority in his voice that said whatever was coming at us, he was the guy to take it on.

  A powder fell to the ground from the vial. As he spoke, it began to glow, black, blue, then a bright, pure white. Its brilliance shot upwards, contained us in a vertical cylinder.

  He corked the vial and stepped inside the circle. Grabbing hold of Serge, he quietly said, “Don’t let him out. Don’t step out the circle.”

  I nodded and swallowed, but my throat was desert dry and my voice box felt like it was stuck.

  “I’ll explain it all, later. Right now, you need to trust me.”

  The night went silent.

  Deep in my bones, where the marrow and cells were born, fear was also birthed. My terror was deep, primal. I wanted to vomit and my legs barely kept me up.

  The scream came immediately in front of us, loud, high, and full of murderous intent.

  Instinctively, I took a step back.

  Craig reached out, grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me forward. “Stay still.”

  A heavy, loud thump sounded. The luminescence of the tunnel obscured my view of the thing. But I could make out large, bat-like wings and red eyes. I was panting, now, rapid, shallow breaths. “What is it?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Craig said, his expression grim, his tone flat.

  “Is it human?”

  He paused. “It used to be.”

  And that frightened me more than if he’d said “no” or “yes.”

  “It wants Serge?”

  “Badly.”

  “But he’s dead.”

  “There are levels to death,” he said. “And with each level, there are…challenges.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Hell is nothing compared to what this thing will do to him.”

  Beside me, Serge stirred, moaned.

  Craig let go of the ghost.

  Serge sagged against me. He groaned and tried to rise.

  Craig made a fist, and clocked Serge on the back of his head. Then he grabbed hold of the ghost once more. He glanced at me. “It’s better for him if he’s unconscious.”

  A bright circle of white exploded in front of me and radiated out. The thing was hitting the shield.

  A howl of frustration rose, a high, keening shriek.

  “It’s trying to get in.” Craig yelled to be heard above the creature’s screams. He looked at me. “You’ll have to hold him.”

  “Okay.”

  He held my gaze. “You’ll be fine—but if this gets him…”

  I swallowed and nodded.

  “No matter what, you can’t let go.”

  “I won’t.”

  Craig turned. “I have to go out there. The spell won’t hold it for much longer.”

  “It won’t hurt me. Will it hurt you?”

  He laughed. “Oh, yeah. This is going to hurt.”

  A glow lit his eyes, one I’d never seen before. It turned his brown eyes to amber, throbbed with electricity, and I got the distinct feeling I was no longer looking at a seventeen-year-old boy.

  “Stay here.” His voice rumbled like a lion’s roar. He dropped his messenger bag and stepped out of the circle.

  I shivered. Whatever he was, instinct said the creature had met its match.

  Either Craig pushed the thing into the column or vice-versa because bright flashes of light pulsed in the milky screen of the tunnel, blue and green, black and red.

  I gripped Serge, held him tighter as he moved.

  Consciousness returned to him. He put his hand to his forehead and groaned.

  I tried to imitate what Craig had done. Pulling my fingers into a fist, I slammed him in the back of the head.

  “Ow!” He grabbed my hand. “Holy crap, Maggie. Why are you hitting me?” He winced and rubbed his head with his other hand. “That hurts.” He looked around, taking in the tunnel and the particles of light that moved skyward.

  “Craig knocked you out. He said—”

  “Where is he?” Serge stepped away and wobbled on his feet.

  “Out there. Fighting that thing.”

  “What thing?” He frowned. “Why don’t I hurt anymore?”

  I thought. “Maybe it only has so much energy. It can’t fight Craig and hunt you at the same time.”

  “What is it?”

  “No idea…it used to be human.”

  “Used to be?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Geez.”

  “Yeah.”

  Light continued to crash into the force field.

  “Wish I could tell who was winning,” said Serge.

  Me too.

  A bestial cry rent the night.

  I heard the crush of bone, the soft, squishing sound of blood and organs.

  “Maggie,” said Serge. “I think we just found out who won.”

  The force field dropped.

  Chapter Thirty

  Cold air blasted my face. The night was lit up like a spotlight, though what illuminated the earth, I didn’t know. Craig lay a few feet from me. Bright red blood poured from him and sunk into the ground.

  I registered it, but couldn’t process the rising agony and disbelief because standing over him was the freakiest thing I’d ever seen.

  It had to have been twenty feet. Standing upright, it had legs like a goat. The arms, instead of ending in hooves, each with four-inch talons. Its body was black, pebbled like a snake, and it had wide leathery wings.

  There were no eyes, only empty sockets that glowed red. It screamed.

  I slapped my hands over my ears. The sound drove me to my knees.

  Saliva dripped from its fangs. It howled again.

  Serge fell beside me. Blood ran from his ears.

  I grabbed and pulled him into my arms, trying to shield him with my body.

  The thing howled once more.

  My stomach dropped. It wasn’t just screaming. It was calling. Calling for Serge.

  “Maggie.”

  I could barely hear Serge above the creature’s scream.

  The Thing stopped screaming. It sniffed the air with its pug nose, then dropped on all fours. It began to circle, but from the winding trail it took, I knew it didn’t know where we were.

  “It can’t see,” I whispered to Serge. “Stay quiet. As long as you’re quiet, we’ll be fine.”

  He mouthed the word “go.”

  I shook my head.

  He tried to push me away.

  I held him steady and shook my head again. “Me and you.” I mouthed the words.

  He started crying.

  I pulled him closer.

  The creature’s long pointed ears perked like a bloodhound and rotated in our direction. Growling low in its thro
at, it crouched on its haunches and waited.

  Don’t cry.

  It moved in the opposite direction, snuffling the ground. The scent of it—burnt rubber and sulphur—assaulted my nose.

  Leave me. I deserve this.

  No!

  Maggie, go!

  I didn’t say anything. He tried to break out of the field but the close proximity to the creature had weakened him, and I was able to hold tight. We stand together.

  He looked at me and everything he needed to say was in the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

  Another voice sounded in my head: Craig’s. Stay still, both of you.

  We froze and looked at each other.

  You think I’m bleeding for the fun of it? There has to be a blood sacrifice. Neither of you move.

  Are you okay? I asked.

  If I lose too much blood it won’t be good. Talking to you is taking my concentration.

  I got the message: shut up.

  The creature howled and the trees shook.

  Serge jerked back.

  My heart slammed against my ribs.

  Serge, said Craig, call to it.

  The ghost met my gaze. I shrugged.

  “Uh, here kitty.” Serge frowned. “Who am I kidding? Hey, Ugly! You want a piece of me? Try your best!”

  The Thing screamed, high, piercing, and pounded towards Serge.

  “Geez, Serge. He said call to it not challenge the thing’s masculinity.”

  Stand in my blood.

  Aware of the demon-seed thing pounding its way to us, saliva dripping from its fangs and spraying the night air, and too freaked out to be squeamish, I grabbed Serge’s hand and did as commanded.

  The thing rushed closer and the air carried the scent of its mouldering breath.

  “Grab my hand,” Craig whispered.

  We did. Light exploded from the contact, mushroomed out like a nuclear cloud, and sped to the thing.

  The creature howled in pain, brought its claws in front of its face. It couldn’t stop its momentum and ran into the cloud of light.

  The force field obliterated it, seared its body and left nothing but floating ash.

  Sudden silence descended. The night grew dark again. Leaves rustled in the stillness.

  Beside us, Craig stirred. His blood reversed flow and seeped back into his body. The bruises and mangled pulp of his nose knit together.

  I crouched closer to him, but Serge pulled me back.

  “Do you see that?” he whispered. He nodded in Craig’s direction. “He’s got leather wings.”

  My heart stuttered. “Like the creature’s?” I squinted towards my boyfriend.

  Serge shook his head. “No…but similar.”

  What was going on? “Come on, let’s see if he needs help.”

  Serge held me fast. “He doesn’t—don’t you see her?”

  “No,” I said irritably. “I don’t.” What I did see was Craig rising to a sitting position.

  My ears twitched as he began to talk. My skin went ice cold. “That’s not English.”

  Serge stood and pulled me up with him. “It’s ancient Egyptian.”

  I heard the frustration and anxiety in his voice as he asked, “How do I know that?”

  “Can you understand what he’s saying? Who’s he talking to?”

  “There’s a woman in white. They’re talking about what just happened. I think.” Worry tinged his words. “I don’t understand all the words but it’s not good.”

  “Great.”

  “He’s saying that they should have told her—you. I think they’re talking about you.” He paused. “Craig says they could have killed you—you should have known and he should have been given the update on the…” He shook his head. “I don’t know—I can hear the word but I can’t repeat it—the thing. He should have been told about the thing. She’s saying the plan had to unfold as it should or—” He stopped.

  “Serge?”

  “—or I’d fail the test,” he finished quietly.

  Test?

  Craig jumped to his feet.

  I blinked.

  This guy could not be human. No one could have lost that much blood and hop around like a rabbit. I calmed my frantic pulse and tried to tap into the conversation. But it didn’t work. All I felt was frustration and anger…and a whack-load of terror.

  Serge had gone quiet, which meant no help.

  I closed my eyes. Instead of trying to see and hear them, I just concentrated on hearing.

  “You knew he would pass. This was unnecessary,” said Craig. His voice rumbled, thrummed as though a dark band of electricity ran through his body. In my mind’s eye, he seemed bigger, a gigantic creature of lava and leather, fire and iron.

  “No, we theorized he would pass. Until he was willing to sacrifice himself to protect Magdalene, we could do nothing.”

  The female had a soothing voice, the kind I’d imagined perfect mothers have when they rock their kids to sleep.

  “How did the—”

  Craig said the creature’s name and I knew what Serge meant about hearing but not understanding. It sounded like a mix between “bellabok” and “Nybbialas” but there were “r” and “ph” sounds and my braid couldn’t sort the syllables. I got the gist, though: ancient evil.

  “It shouldn’t have been released from its cage.”

  “Because we cannot foresee every action of human, we cannot prevent their energies from loosening the gates between their realm and hell.”

  “The plan should have changed as their actions changed,” said Craig.

  “You know that cannot—”

  “She almost died! And Serge—he barely made it! As it is, the”—he spoke the creature’s name—“will be back.”

  Instinctively, I grabbed the ghost’s hand. My eyes snapped open. “How do I protect him?”

  Craig’s head whipped in my direction.

  I blinked and squinted, unsure of what I was seeing. It seemed as though there were images superimposed on images. There was his human form, but something else—the shadow of wings blocked the view of barren trees and moonlight—mixed with the sense of a giant who had stuffed himself into a human form fifteen sizes too small.

  I stepped back, but I held my courage. “Where does Serge have to make it?”

  “Come on,” he said. The red glow dimmed from his eyes, turned them from ruby-amber back to brown. “Let’s go home and I’ll tell you about it.”

  “Tell me about what—what are you?”

  The shadows left him as he walked to the car, turned him fully human. “A ferrier.” He glanced back at me. “I transport the dead.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I came through the front door and headed into the kitchen. Buddha lay on the couch, his fur glossy and smooth under the ceiling lights. Dad stood by the stove, stirring a pot. The smell of garlic and onion, thyme and basil scented the moist air.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He turned. Three faint lines wrinkled his brow. He glanced from me to Craig.

  “This is my boyfriend, Craig. He’s a ferrier.”

  Dad’s frown deepened. “You shoe horses?”

  “That’s a farrier,” he said and slid into a chair by the counter. “Change the ‘a’ to an ‘e’ and you’ve got me.”

  “It’s a convenient title since he ferries the dead,” I clarified, my voice one pitch short of hysteria.

  “Oh.” Dad’s brow smoothed out, and he turned back to the pot. “I always thought that was a reaper.”

  “Those guys separate the soul from the body.” Craig rose and made his way over to the stove. “I take spirits across the bridge—over the river Styx.” He shrugged. “Or wherever they need to go.” He leaned over the pot. “Spaghetti?”

  “Yeah, I thought cooking would s
oothe me but the sauce seems…”

  “Thin?”

  Dad nodded.

  I went from contained hysteria to all-out freak. “Are you kidding me? He’s transports the freaking dead and you’re talking about sauce?”

  Dad gave Craig an “I’m Sorry My Daughter’s Such a Drama Queen” look and said, “Maggie you transition the dead all the time. Why are you surprised that there are others like you?”

  That stopped me. I sighed and slid onto a stool. Serge appeared beside me.

  “It needs oregano,” said Craig as he sniffed the sauce.

  Dad handed him the spoon.

  Craig tasted the marinara. Steam rose from the pot and filled the kitchen with humid air. “And thyme. Maybe a dash of salt.”

  “When you’re done,” I said, “perhaps you’d be good enough to explain what happened tonight with me and Serge and that thing.”

  “What thing?” asked Dad.

  “The thing that tried to eat us.”

  The wooden spoon clattered to the stove and splatters of red sauce marred the stove. “Something tried to eat you?”

  “I thought it would be easier to explain it with your dad here,” said Craig.

  “Something tried to eat you?” Dad asked again, his voice faint. “Like an escaped lion?”

  “More like Satan’s escaped pet monster,” I said.

  He blinked and stared at the spaghetti sauce as though it held the answers he sought.

  “Is it coming back?” asked Serge.

  “Yes, but not for a while,” said Craig.

  “Yes but not for—wait, is Serge talking?” Dad’s head bobbled from one direction to the other. “Let me get my cell.”

  “Sorry.” Craig strode to Serge and grabbed his arm. Blue light emanated from my boyfriend’s palm and radiated out in a circle.

  “What the—hey, Serge.” Dad froze in the middle of wiping his hands.

  “You can see him?” I jerked my thumb in his direction.

  Dad nodded.

  “Way cool,” said Serge.

  “Hear him, too.” Dad’s phone beeped.

  “Is that me?”

  Dad looked down. “No. Nancy.” He went down the stairs and unlocked the door. “She’s coming over.” He moved back to the table. “Talk fast before she gets here.” He nodded at Serge. “Uh—we’ll fix that before she gets here, right?”