Guardian's Patience, page 22
part #5 of Guardians of the Race Series
“Things are running pretty hot and heavy between you two, aren’t they?” Nardo’s eyes never stopped scanning the rooftops and fire escapes, anywhere that demons might lurk.
“I beg your pardon? Hot and heavy with whom? Surely you don’t mean the woman holding up the streetlamp. I do have standards, you know.” Broadbent’s eyes never stopped moving either. He watched the darkened doorways and alleys where the streetlight’s glow ended.
Both listened carefully for sounds of distress and breathed deeply through their noses, sorting the rank and fetid smells of the city from those of blood and demon.
“You know damn well who I mean. Pinkie. She’s no post holder, but I’ve got to admit, she’s sure as hell not what I expected you to bring home.”
Broadbent glanced at his partner, eyebrows raised. “You never expected me to bring anyone home. It’s quite alright, you know,” he added when Nardo looked like he might protest. “I never thought I would, either, although technically, I wasn’t the one who brought her home, was I? The nosey nuisances did, which is where you got your hot and heavy reference, no doubt.” He shrugged. “I enjoy her company.”
“How much do you know about her?” Nardo asked quietly.
The tall man beside him didn’t hesitate. “About her history? Probably a great deal less than you do. I can see where you would question her affection for one such as me. I have questioned it, also. There’s no logic to it, I admit.” He took a moment to glance at his friend. “You’ve looked into her, haven’t you? Made your little technological forays into the records of her past? You’ve done it on your own or at Lord Canaan’s behest, which is neither here nor there. You would have shared what you found with him anyway. I assume you bring it up now because you have something to say on the matter.”
“I only thought you should know what we found,” Nardo explained. In the bland voice he used for reporting his findings to Canaan, he gave the facts to his friend
“It is of no consequence.” Broadbent dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. “She’s all but confessed her involvement with the dark arts and her captivity by a man who held sway over her as a young girl. A reasonable conclusion would be that she committed petty crimes under his influence, crimes she now regrets. I, too, have pondered this and believe it to be true, but the fact remains, I do not wish to know, because I do not care.”
“What has she told you?” Nardo asked just as quietly as he’d spoken before.
“Nothing, damnit. She doesn’t need to.” Broadbent was no longer watching or listening to the city around him. He was staring angrily at the Guardian who’d accused Patience of something unspeakable. “It is what I know. In here.” He pounded his fist against the markings on his chest. “And I would expect you, Nardo, above all others, to understand.”
“You lost me, Professor. Understand what?”
They were stopped in the middle of Calhoun Street. A car blew its horn, startling them both, and they moved to the other side.
Standing under a fraying awning, Broadbent carried on as if there’d been no interruption. “Why didn’t you kill JJ when you had the chance? Why didn’t you snap her neck? Did she not carry the same title with which you now attempt to label Patience? She was a murderer. Was she not?”
“I’m not labeling anyone,” Nardo replied heatedly, “And JJ wasn’t a murderer. We didn’t have all the facts.”
Broadbent waved his hand angrily. “Don’t try to absolve yourself with that, my boy. You came to that conclusion with your hand around her neck, before you knew the facts. Why?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He poked the younger Guardian in the chest. “Something in your heart told you it wasn’t true. Something in your heart recognized who that young woman was. When it came to trusting your Joy, I trusted you, Nardo. I didn’t understand it then, but I trusted your heart. Now I’m asking you to trust mine and trust my Patience.” He stopped, suddenly alert. “Do you hear that?”
His head snapped up and he drew a deep breath, testing the wind. “By the Nephilim, we’ve got a demon. This way.”
Using white light, a Guardian power that increased their speed, the two charged back the way they had come. The stink of demon grew stronger. The trail led to the middle of a side street where two men struggled with the woman in the yellow vest. Nearby, a car was stopped in the street. The motor was running and the doors on the passenger side were open.
The woman fought them. She shouted. She used her tiny purse as a weapon, until one of them yanked it from her and tossed it away. Their intent was to drag her to the car and not to take her for themselves.
The scene was all wrong. The scent of demon was strong and yet the two men assaulting the woman maintained a human form. Guardians couldn’t see demons as the Daughters of Man did. They had to use their sense of smell. The creatures always appeared as men until they committed some violent act. It was only then that their true nature was revealed. These men weren’t changing.
“Be careful until you’re sure,” Nardo shouted as a reminder of the ban against killing humans.
Broadbent leapt at the man closest to the car. With his right hand, he grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the woman. His left connected with the attacker’s jaw in what the twins referred to as a Superman punch. Although he controlled the force of the motion, the blow should have been enough to send any human sprawling.
The man didn’t sprawl, but he did fall back. In doing so, he released the woman. He also released his hold on his human form. The creature that was revealed was covered in yellowish scales which Broadbent knew were as hard as stone. It’s legs were thickly muscled and powerful, with large feet adapted for leaping and long claws capable of shredding flesh as if it was paper. A long muscular tail was used for balance and as a weapon. A strike from that tail or the sharp spikes at its tip could be lethal.
The twins once laughingly referred to them as scaled kangaroos, but Broadbent thought more in terms of highly intelligent dinosaurs. Like those predatory creatures of the past, demons had large, elongated heads molded to support their massive jaws and teeth sharpened to points.
The woman fell to the pavement and scrambled toward the safety of the car on hands and knees.
Broadbent’s knife was drawn before the creature had fully changed, but he wasn’t fast enough. The demon rolled to avoid the thrust. The whip of its tail caught the Guardian’s ankles. Heavy leather protected him from the barbs, but not from the force of the blow. He fell to his back. Keeping his head tucked to his chest and maintaining a rounded back, he brought hands above his shoulders, one hand flat, the other still gripping the hilt of the blade. Feet followed body and he pushed off, using the momentum of his legs and the strength of his arms to bring himself back to standing.
He was met by the gaping maw of the creature’s mouth. Sharp teeth targeted his head and neck. Training came before thought. Broadbent thrust upward with the blade which allowed it to slide beneath the scales and into the soft flesh they protected. At the same time, he fell back again, this time rolling with the demon on top of him.
The movement was supposed to bring his legs beneath the creature to throw it from him as they rolled, but his push was off center. The demon rolled to the side and took the Guardian with it. Claws ripped at the shoulder of his jacket. Jaws snapped closed just inches from his face.
Broadbent grabbed the demon’s throat. It was too wide and too protected by scaly armor to do any damage. The tactic was solely defensive. With a shout and all the strength he could muster, he extended his arm, elbow locked. The creature was heavy and the warrior was pinned by one of its hind legs. He couldn’t find the leverage to either force the knife further into the body or extract it. He had no choice but to let it go.
With the second hand free, he was able to force the demon’s upper body away from his. They tumbled, rolled, struggled to get the upper hand and finally hit the car parked in the street. Back against the wheel, the demon’s tail whipped against the driver’s door. The collision of demon flesh and metal boomed into the stillness of the street. Angered, the demon screeched and threw its tail against the door again seeking leverage to right itself.
On his side, facing the demon, Broadbent felt the hind leg pinning him to the pavement lift. The warrior shifted back and brought his knee up. He aimed his blow not for the demon’s exposed under belly, but for the hilt of the protruding knife. His aim was true. The long blade sliced further upward. The demon screamed once as the hilt of the knife disappeared into its flesh and the scales closed over it.
Broadbent was instantly on his feet. He plunged his fist through the demons chest, extracting the heart already stilled by the blade. He held the heart aloft and gloried in the light that filled him. The demon turned to dust.
Nardo was on his feet, dusting himself off and scanning the street and buildings for witnesses. A pile of dusty clothing lay at his feet.
“We’ve got a spectator.” He nodded up at a lighted window that hadn’t been lit before. “You take the woman. I’ll take care of the peanut gallery.” He was already heading for the building.
The woman was out of the car and running away as fast as her high heeled feet could carry her. Broadbent grabbed her purse from the ground and easily caught up with her. He stopped her with the purse held in his outstretched hand. She stared at him in terror and took a step back.
“Madam, I mean you no harm. I only wish to return your bag.”
She backed away another step and shook her head. “I, I saw. I, I heard. You, they...” Her eyes darted frantically as she looked for a means of escape.
Seeing that the woman was shaken, but unharmed, Broadbent took a quick step forward and pressed his thumb against her forehead before she could take another step away. A small impulse passed though the thumb. It told him the woman was ready for him to make her forget her ordeal or to remember what he placed there.
“Take your bag and run along home, my dear. You’ve had a scare and it was fortunate two strangers scared your attacker off. You must tell that fancy man of yours to send an escort if he’s going to leave you on the streets at this hour of the night. It isn’t right, leaving you to walk alone. No gentleman would treat you thus. Goodnight now and sweet dreams.”
The woman nodded, smiled dreamily, and walked away.
Nardo was back a minute later. “Old guy. He was just picking up the phone. I told him to go take a leak and go back to bed.”
Broadbent told him about the woman. His fellow Guardian pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Told her that, did ya? Used those words?” He started to laugh. “He’s her pimp, Broadbent, and he’s no gentleman. She won’t understand the words.”
“Pimp is such a harsh word and her life is harsh enough. As to whether or not he’s a gentleman,” he shrugged, “That will be for her to judge. Perhaps in the world they live in, he is a gentleman. As for the words, she can always look them up. Like Col, perhaps she, too, will choose to improve her vocabulary with a word a day.”
Broadbent shook the dust from the demons’ clothing, folded it, and placed it in a neat pile atop the shoes. Nardo was still shaking his head.
“Another good deed?”
Broadbent shrugged. “Not all of us are born with silver spoons in our mouths, you know. You and I are the lucky ones.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Nardo was looking over the street where the fight occurred. “Something is very wrong with this picture,” he muttered, “It’s clicking something up here.” He tapped his forehead with his finger. “But I can’t get a handle on it.”
They checked the car for anything that might be helpful, but there was nothing in the glove box or on the seats to say where it had come from. Nardo would check the stolen vehicle reports when they got back to the House.
With no more to do at the scene and their shift at an end, the two Guardians headed back to their own vehicle. They were both feeling a little euphoric with the high that came with the aftermath of a demon kill and the light that took the demon’s heart.
Nardo did a little hop and skip and turned himself to walk backwards. “You know,” he said to his companion, “I’ve been thinking about what you said about me and JJ and knowing right off she was the one for me. I’m thinking I wasn’t thinking so much with my head when I had her pinned to that wall as I was thinking with my crotch. At that point in our relationship, I’m thinking I wasn’t thinking so much about love as lust.”
Broadbent soberly considered his partners words. “What I find frightening here, Nardo, is that I understood that entire speech and I fully agree. Lust does indeed play a large role in the initial stage of such a relationship.”
“Speak for yourself, pal,” Nardo laughed, “It’s still a big part of mine.”
“Is it? Why, that’s very good news, very good news, indeed. It makes the future quite pleasant to think about, doesn’t it?” Broadbent moved so quickly, Nardo stumbled and almost fell before turning himself around.
Pumping his fist in the air, the normally quiet Professor shouted, “To love and lust and victory!” Throwing his arm around Nardo’s shoulder, he started to walk. “Let us return home to share our joy.” He stopped, pulling Nardo to a stop with him and said worriedly, “I meant joy in general, not your Joy specifically. I hope you don’t think...”
“I get it.” Nardo started to laugh. “And what’s worse, I think I’m beginning to get you, too. You’ve got it bad, Professor. You’re in love.”
Broadbent didn’t answer him but continued back to the car doing a little hop-skip of his own.
Chapter 21
Col angled the bassinet away from the wall in Grace and Canaan’s room. Dov followed suit on the other side of the window.
“What is this? The fourth week we’ve done this?” Dov asked of the furniture rearranging.
“Yep, and we’ll probably be doing it for another four weeks and maybe four more after that. Gracie says move ‘em. She has to get used to them being next door in the nursery. Canaan says move ‘em back because Gracie wakes him up twenty times a day to make sure they’re still breathing.
“Funny how he was the one doing all the worrying when she was pregnant and she was all ‘Millions of women do this every day’” Col fluttered his hand in the air. “And now Canaan’s ‘They’re fine’ and Gracie’s afraid to let them out of her sight.”
Dov shrugged. “I dunno. Mom was like that. She was always afraid someone would kill us.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think it was for the same reason.”
They both laughed and then were instantly quiet. Col began studiously smoothing the tiny sheet in the bassinet. Dov cocked his head, listening for the sound again.
“Did you hear that?” he asked
“I didn’t hear anything,” Col said, but he didn’t look up at his twin, either.
“Liar. You heard it same as me. That was Broadbent yelling yippee-ki-yay.”
“No it wasn’t. They’re probably watching a movie.”
“Yeah?” Dov pointed a finger at his brother. “You name me one movie where the cowboy yells yippee-ki-yay with a British accent.”
Col raised his eyebrows. “Think we should say something to him?”
“Nah,” Dov said, but then he smirked and winked. “But I do think we should look up the song so we can whistle it every time he walks into the room.”
~*~
Pinkie took off her little pink cowboy hat with the sparkly band and laid it over Broadbent’s face. She unbuckled the plastic gun-belt from her waist and set the six-shooter aside. Leaning forward from where she straddled him, she whispered, “I wish you’d show this to the rest of the House.”
Broadbent used one finger to lift the brim of the hat far enough to look out from beneath it. “I will go to great lengths for you, little dove, but lines must be drawn. I will not run naked through the House in a little girl’s cowboy hat.”
The hat fell back into place and Pinkie giggled.
“I didn’t mean literally,” she told him, “I meant your sense of adventure, your imagination, your humor.”
“Adventure for me is putting brown sugar on my porridge instead of white,” he said from beneath the hat, “and I have no imagination. I merely follow yours.”
“I’m not the one who brought the blow-up doll into the bedroom.”
“You were the one who said my mother was frightening.”
They’d been lying side by side, both staring up at the ceiling after a particularly enthusiastic romp, when out of the blue, Broadbent said, not for the first time,
“I wonder what my mother would say if she could see me now.”
Pinkie had immediately sat up and leaned over him. “Every relationship has rules, Pookie, and here’s our first. Mumsie stays out of the bedroom. Every time you mention her I get this picture of a severe looking woman in a blue silk suit standing by the side of the bed watching everything we do. Your mother scares me. I have nightmares about meeting her.”
The next day, she came to bed to find a party doll dressed in a blue silk suit and blonde wig standing by the bed.
“You see?” Broadbent told her when he heard her laughter. “There’s nothing frightening about my mother.”
Together, they’d snuck the doll into the twins’ room. The two were still trying to figure out where it came from.
Pinkie leaned forward to rub her breasts against his chest. The hat didn’t move, but his hands came up and gripped the cheeks of her ass. He liked her ass.
“I’m not the one who brought the ties,” she argued.
“That was simply an experiment to prove whether or not such physical maneuvers could be done by anyone other than a contortionist. It was your tasteless reading material that started it.”
Broadbent had claimed she didn’t read. Pinkie had brought out her e-reader to prove otherwise. The poor man’s eyes almost bugged out of his head when he read the passage on the screen.
“I don’t see how that could be done by real people and even if it could, I fail to see how either party could derive any pleasure from it.”
