Guardian

by Heather Burch

  In the days that followed, life became a solemn routine of working through her parents' things, practicing her karate, and spending evenings with Damon, who gave her space, who didn’t coddle, who left her alone. And that’s all Nikki really needed. To be left alone. She should have contacted Krissy, but even the guilt over not letting her best friend know she was back began to fade with time. It was like that part of her life died alongside her mom and dad.

  But after a few weeks, the loneliness intensified, and a tiny part of her searched for something, anything, to replace the utter nothingness. Only a month ago she’d been so surrounded by life and noise and people. Now emptiness filled her, refusing to leave her unaccompanied for long.

  Something was growing within her soul, something cold and black and deadly. She found it easier and easier to get rid of items her parents once cherished. Some things she kept, for one reason or another, but the reality of sorting had hardened her. People who are dead have no use for items. People who are dead don’t come back.

  Damon said the lead he’d had on the killer had gone cold. “Maybe if you’d been here …” But he’d stopped himself. He hadn’t needed to say more. She understood, and it fed the black thing growing in her stomach.

  She sat before a box of old books, some of which her dad had purchased as research. A robbery. My parents died in a robbery. A handful of antique swords, possessions they’d gained by chance, led to the forfeit of their lives. She’d give the world to have them back, yet they died over a bundle of inanimate objects. Irony was an angry witch, a witch with sharpened claws.

  It didn’t matter anyway. Nikki’d reached a decision. Once she was finished with her parents' things, she’d go after the guy herself. And she’d do to him every horrible thing he’d done to her parents before he stole their lives.

  Chapter 19

  She’d stopped doing her classwork somewhere along the way. When she told Damon it was probably time for her to get back to school, he’d shaken his head. No need. He’d done some checking and learned she had enough credits to graduate two years early. Principal Schmidt apparently hadn’t liked it, but had agreed under the circumstances. After all, Damon could be quite persuasive. Nikki’d tried to voice her concerns about the credits, about going from a junior to a high school graduate, but Damon shut her down.

  No more chemistry tests, no more sweaty locker rooms, no more friends. Guilt over Krissy slinked back into her mind. She hadn’t even called her best friend once since she’d returned from Germany, mostly because Krissy represented everything that no longer was. And Krissy—best friend extraordinaire— would be full of questions Nikki couldn’t answer now or ever. When Mace, Raven, and Vine started attending her school— oh, so many innocent days ago—it was Krissy who first encouraged Nikki to get to know them. She was something of a bridge between Nikki’s two worlds. And Nikki didn’t need a bridge— she needed dynamite to blast the whole thing to dust.

  So when Damon informed her she’d graduated, Nikki accepted it like she had everything else in her new world. He held an intimate ceremony in her honor and gave her the title to the Ducati concept bike he’d purchased from a doctor in Florida. Life should be good. But the walls, though soaring and palatial, were closing in around her.

  “I’ve arranged for us to spend a few days at my beach house. And I have a surprise for you when we get there,” Damon said. He handed her a fresh bottle of water. He was always doing that. Encouraging her to eat, making sure she had coffee in the morning and water throughout the rest of the day.

  She turned from the library window. She didn’t open the window in her room anymore, as she’d lost all interest in looking over to the house that had once been her home. But here in the library, she enjoyed the vivid view of a meandering garden. It reminded her of Viennesse. “Oh?”

  “Yes, I thought a change of scenery would do you good.”

  Sunshine, beach, sand sifting between her toes. Too bad it sounded dead.

  “Thought it would cheer you. And even if the setting doesn’t, the surprise is sure to.”

  She didn’t expect to experience cheer again. Even when he gave her the keys to the bike, a prize she’d once only been able to dream of, there’d been no delight. Waking, sleeping, she was a zombie. An undead. She felt nothing. Not pain, not joy. She couldn’t remember what it was to smile, to laugh. She felt old, finished.

  No. The beach held no appeal. She could just as well stay right here. “Do we have any news on the killer, Damon?” “Ah,” he said. “A spark of life.”

  True. The desire to see the monster brought to justice was the only thing that kept her heart beating. Black vines twisted in her chest and offered perverted comfort. She accepted their embrace. It was growing easier and easier to do so.

  Damon maneuvered around a table and came to rest behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded with a gentle touch. “I will find him. I gave you my word. We even have a new lead.” He leaned closer. “Nikki, what are your wishes when we locate the assassin?”

  She spun to face him. “I want him to suffer like my parents suffered.”

  He seemed to fight a smile. “It’s justice. An eye for an eye. It’s the only way you’ll ever be able to move on. To get closure.”

  Deep within her a still, small voice whispered revenge was not the answer. She smothered it and clung to her dream. Because revenge—right or wrong—had become her closest companion. Oftentimes, her only companion.

  And Damon was going to help her accomplish it.

  Nikki threw a punch into the heavy bag hard enough to double it. Damon had arranged for her karate instructor, Sensei Coble, to continue private classes at the mansion. “I want to learn KravMaga,” Nikki said. “Are you familiar with it, Sensei?”

  Damon had become her sparring partner, as her ability was quickly eclipsing her sensei’s. Damon was a specialist in several fighting styles and the first to mention the style taught to the Israeli Special Forces.

  Concern washed across Sensei Coble’s usually calm veneer. “It’s a brutal style, Nikki.”

  She punched again, embracing the sudden sting of the heavy bag against her fist. “Exactly.” She downed half a bottle of water and felt the tightness of the tape around her hand. Nikki’d stopped wearing gloves while training, but Damon insisted she cover her knuckles to avoid cutting them.

  “You’ll be banned from tournaments. It’s too deadly.”

  She turned on him. The anger gurgling in her belly boiled over in one quick gush. “Do you think I care about tournaments right now?”

  He stood firm, but she thought she’d seen a flash of fear in his gaze. She tried not to enjoy it. “No, not now. But eventually you’ll want to compete.”

  “My competing days are over.”

  It seemed to sadden him. He stepped from the bag then held a hand towel in her direction.

  She snatched it from his fingers. Blotting her face, she pressed her taped hands to her cheeks, keeping her eyes trained on her sensei.

  He frowned, probably noticing she’d continued to look at him.

  Never take your eyes off your enemy, Damon had taught her.

  As a show of trust, Sensei Coble turned his back to her and wiped down the heavy bag with another hand towel. When finished, he held the fabric out to her and nodded to the linen basket behind her. He was trying, with little success, to be passive about the whole thing, but it tasted like a lie. His motions were a little too drawn out, his brow a bit too furrowed, his eyes a bit too suspicious.

  She understood. Master and student were close as father and child. She’d enjoyed a great relationship with her sensei for years, but she’d outgrown him. And one valuable lesson Damon had taught her was to trust no one, especially those who know your weaknesses. Nikki challenged him with a look and snatched the towel from his hand. But rather than turn and walk to the laundry basket, she took two steps backward and half-turned. Gaze still locked with Sensei’s, she tossed the first towel behind her.


  His eyes widened and she knew she’d hit the target. That’s another thing Damon was teaching her—how to shoot. She’d never known much about guns, but in going out to his firing range she’d discovered a fresh new appreciation for firepower. And aim. She wadded the second towel and tossed it into the basket. Of course, the wastebasket and the towel were far different from the Smith and Wesson she’d been firing, but aim was aim. And hers was dead-on.

  “Good shot,” Sensei said.

  She didn’t bother hiding the smug little smile.

  “You’re training so hard. I thought maybe you hoped to throw yourself into competing as a sort of therapy.”

  She laughed without humor. A corner of tape on one hand had lifted. She absently picked at it. “Only one thing will be therapy for me.” She motioned for him to steady the bag again.

  With a sigh, he pressed his shoulder to the canvas. “Do you remember when you were very small and I first began training you?”

  Slowly, her hands dropped. It seemed a lifetime ago. Almost as if those memories belonged to someone else and she’d watched a movie of it. “Yes, I remember.”

  “I made you promise that you’d stay committed. You were too young to begin training, but I sat you down—”

  “Yeah,” she said, irritation edging her voice. “I remember. I told you I was a person of my word, and you had me promise to continue in training and tournaments.”

  “Exactly. You gave me your word.”

  Really? Was he really trying to do the whole psychology thing on her? Nikki challenged him with another hard look. His eyes softened on her, causing a spasm of guilt. Why was she being so mean to Sensei Coble? He’d always wanted the best for her. She loved him, sort of thought of him as the uncle she never had. She wasn’t herself right now. That’s all. But as she tried to reason away her attitude, she realized why she was angry at him. And both the thought and its implication made her sick, maybe a little more dead inside.

  She was mad at Coble because he had nothing left to teach her. What was happening to her? She wasn’t the type of person to use someone only to throw them out like yesterday’s pizza box. She opened her mouth to apologize, but heard herself saying, “I’ll never set foot in a karate tournament again. I give you my word.” Driving through, she doubled the heavy bag, jolting her sensei and erasing the hope that had moments ago lit his eyes.

  Without ceremony, she turned, grabbed her water bottle, and left the exercise area to search for Damon.

  Lying flat on his back atop his bed, Mace quieted his mind. He prayed for wisdom and thought about Nikki. “Where are you?” he whispered to the darkness. Will had moved the boys and females back to Missouri when Raven contacted Zero and informed him Nikki’d returned, and they’d spent the last three weeks reunited at the two-story house on Pine Boulevard. All except Nikki. Which meant the house was empty as far as Mace was concerned.

  Every night he’d sat at the gate to Vessler’s mansion. It was all he could do to keep from leaping inside the giant house to find her. But he knew that wouldn’t work. He’d even gone to the door on several occasions to inquire about her, but the answer was always the same—she wasn’t taking visitors. Nikki had things to sort through, he knew, and he’d pushed her away when she needed him the most. He’d accused her of having her loyalty in the wrong place when it was Mace who’d needed the lesson.

  He’d watched her kiss Raven. Big deal. Raven had confirmed it was a good-bye kiss that meant she’d made her choice. But how had he responded? By pushing her away, giving her an ultimatum. Her whole world had crashed around her and he’d done nothing but throw dirt on the stones that had once been her life.

  Help me.

  He sat up, eyes fully focused in the dim light. Fear clamped its fingers around his throat. The words, Nikki’s words, had been so real, so close, he thought she might be standing in the room. She wasn’t, of course. But that didn’t stop his eyes from roaming the empty space. Mace mopped sweat from his forehead. The perspiration had appeared as quickly as the plea. Dread pressed as the words dissipated into the air, and he had to wonder if he’d imagined her voice.

  No. He hadn’t. Mace closed his eyes and drew on the strength of the One he served. Waves of peace crashed over him. “Where are you?” he asked.

  Drawing deeply on the presence of all power, he lay back, tuning in to his own breathing. For a few moments there was nothing. And his very being pressed him to get up. Do something. Instead he quieted his heart and listened with his spirit.

  There. Eyes closed, he saw it. An airplane turning into the setting sun, golden rays glinting off the tilted wing. A shoreline. A concrete palace sitting on the beach. A green sign. Casey Key.

  Mace bolted from the bed.

  He ran down the steps and flipped on the kitchen light as he entered. Will sat over a cup of coffee, reading a book. He smiled as Mace approached.

  “You shouldn’t read in the dark.” Mace took the cup from Will’s massive hand and drained the lukewarm liquid. “Yuck. You know microwaves were invented for stuff like this.”

  Will turned to the stove clock. “It’s three in the morning. Can’t sleep?”

  “No. In the weeks since Nikki left, I’ve discovered how little sleep we actually need.”

  “Have you seen her at all?”

  “I met her best friend Krissy for lunch a week ago. She didn’t even know Nikki was back here.” He shook his head and sank onto the barstool beside Will. “I’ve gone to the door of the mausoleum that freak Vessler calls a house, but each time I inquire someone makes an excuse. I can’t seem to permeate the atmosphere around Vessler’s house. It’s like there’s this …”

  “Evil?”

  Mace nodded. “Yes. She refuses to see me. But if she’d go outside into the gardens or something, I could see her, talk to her.”

  “Every man must choose his path. Light, dark. Forgiveness, revenge.”

  “But Will, she’s like a pawn in this horrific chess game.” That much was true. Zero had found another mention of Nikki in an encoded computer file from Omega. The word surgery was paired with her name.

  Will’s clear-blue eyes were troubled. “I wish she was simply caught in the middle. You can only help those who want it. I feel I owe you an apology.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Words hold the power of life and death. It is what we speak that can rescue … or condemn us.”

  Mace felt for Will. So much wisdom confined in a being who’s bound to the earth. “I’m not really following you, Will.”

  “I wished Nikki gone.”

  “You’re not a genie, so I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Mace.” Will pivoted and dropped a giant hand onto Mace’s shoulder. “I was concerned for you—about your feelings for her. And that concern caused my faith to falter. The Throne’s judgment came into question and the seed of my fear grew.”

  Heart pounding, Mace tried to swallow. “Did you tell Nikki to leave?”

  Will brushed a hand through the air. “No. Of course not. But in my heart I wished you’d never been called to this journey.”

  Mace tried to fight the anger now growing within him. “That’s not your decision to make.”

  “I know. Believe me, I’ve been scolded for it.” Will ran a hand through his curly hair. “So often I don’t understand the Throne’s decisions. His plan is perfect. It is only we who get in the way. And that’s what I did. I just hope it can be repaired. The last time I got in the way of the plan, a human died. I was banished for it.”

  “Well, confession is good for the soul, right? Or as you like to put it, ‘It ain’t over ’til it’s over.’ Zero is still looking for a way to link Vessler to Omega. If he finds it, Nikki will know what her godfather really is.”

  “If that’s what he is. We have no proof.”

  Mace nodded in reluctant agreement.

  A slow smile formed on Will’s face. “I should have warned you about … love. But I must admit, I don’t understand attractio
n between sexes.”

  Mace slapped Will on the back. “Maybe I should have warned you.”

  Will sighed. “You said Nikki was a pawn. If that were true, this journey would be much less complicated.”

  Mace shook his head. “What role do you think she plays?” When Will failed to answer, Mace’s voice rose. “What role do you think she plays, Will?”

  “Not that of a pawn. Possibly that of the queen.” He paused. “I see her slipping. You must reach her, Mace. So much rests on the edge of the blade.”

  Mace nodded. “And the blade is already tipped in the wrong direction?”

  “Yes, thanks to my interference and lack of faith. This could have eternal consequences for countless people. But right now, my thoughts dwell with Nikki. Saving her.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “What do you plan to do?” Will shoved back from the counter.

  “Go to Casey Key. As soon as I figure out where it’s located.”

  Will frowned. “I don’t know.” He thought a moment. “And why?”

  “I think she’s going there, or maybe she’s already arrived. Wait a minute,” Mace said with a flat stare. “You’ve lived for millennia and you don’t know where Casey Key is located?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. Is it in Florida?”

  Mace grabbed his laptop from the kitchen table. “Let’s find out.”

  Within a few minutes, they discovered Casey Key was a fivemile stretch of beachfront on Florida’s Gulf Coast. Mace read, “Pristine and exclusive, it’s touted as one of the most beautiful in the country. If one so chose, they could purchase a one acre piece of beachfront for a mere $3.8 million.”

  “Pricey.” Will whistled.

  “Just the kind of place a snake like Vessler would hide.”

  “You have no love lost for the man, do you?” Will scratched his head. “I have to admit, I never understood that phrase. Just seems like a confusing way of saying, ‘I don’t like him.’”

  Mace closed the laptop. “No love lost. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. Take your pick. Each one fits Vessler.”