Guardian's Patience, page 30
part #5 of Guardians of the Race Series
The ploy worked, but also brought the jaws of the monster uncomfortably close to Broadbent’s nose. He heard JJ yell as a row of sharp, yellowed teeth snapped shut inches from his face.
Distracted by the shout, the demon’s head turned when a streak of blue fire struck one of its cohorts leaping from the window they’d just fallen from. Instead of continuing its attack on Broadbent, the creature rose and ran.
“I’ve got it,” someone called from the window above him.
Broadbent didn’t hesitate. His body was moving after the fleeing demon. He stumbled as his feet caught up with his body’s new direction. He heard another window shatter and another shout from JJ as she released yet another electric bolt.
The battle’s tide had turned and the few remaining demons were attempting to escape.
Broadbent kept his eye on the target. The speed with which these ungainly creatures moved always amazed him. The demon bounded over backyard fences with remarkable agility. With the rage of battle still giving him power and strength, Broadbent gave chase. Strips of his new jacket flapped behind him, fueling his body with another type of rage. He flew over the fences, a hurdler determined to win the race.
The demon cut between two houses, silent and dark, and Broadbent followed. He hesitated for only a moment to assure himself there was no ambush around the blind corner of the house. There wasn’t. This demon had traded fight for flight and made the mistake of heading for the street.
The chase lasted one more block, enough time for Broadbent to remove his favorite weapon from his pocket. He paused, took aim, sent the throwing star spinning toward the target, and continued to run. As he knew it would, the specially designed star hit the weak spot at the back of the neck where the scaly armor was thinner and more flexible. The demon stopped with a cry of pain, but it wasn’t dead. Too much of the star’s force was lost over distance.
While the demon clawed at the thing biting its neck, Broadbent sent another star sailing through the air. This one took part of a clawed finger before it lodged in the neck a hair’s breadth beneath the first. With another cry, the demon fell heavily forward. In a final sprint, the Guardian caught up with it, spun it to face him, and plunged his fist into the demon’s chest. He held the heart high above his head.
The light from his offering filled him with glory and renewed his energy and spirit.
His elation was short lived, however. As he scanned the area for possible witnesses, he saw an old and battered Cadillac stop a block and a half away. The woman carried a basket much the same way Grace carried her babies. He might have ignored the unlikely hour for a homecoming or visit, if the creature emerging from the driver’s door had not been a half formed demon.
Broadbent raced through the night in another pursuit.
~*~
“Park the car around the corner, Poynter,” Andi called over her shoulder. “We don’t want to lead them right to us.”
In truth, she wasn’t nearly as worried about the Guardians as she was about Abyar. He was always back home by this hour of the morning, so the good news was that he was probably fighting for his life back there and would hopefully lose it in the process. The bad news was that Abyar was more schemer than fighter. He didn’t mind killing weaker demons as a show of power and intimidation, but in a real fight, he would find a way to run if he could and let his minions take the fall. The demon had no loyalty to anyone but himself.
When Poynter returned, she’d insist he watch the front door of the building. If Abyar happened to make it through the battle, he would head here. The two could fight it out on the stairs. With any luck, they’d kill each other.
Andi climbed the three flights to the apartment they’d used when they first came back to town. Poynter swore their master had found another mirror and had been spending his time trying to get the damn thing open so he could travel back and forth to the Otherworld. He’d been trying desperately to contact someone on the other end, but no one was answering.
The witch grinned at the silent child in her arms. “They’re probably tired of all his failing, get-rich-quick schemes. I know I am.” She tapped the child’s nose with her finger. “But you, my little darling, aren’t a scheme. You’re a ticket to freedom, a commodity to be sold, cash on the diaper, so to speak.”
She tried the knob on the apartment door and grinned again. The fool didn’t even have the sense to lock up when he left. She closed the door behind her and heard Abyar speak.
“Well don’t just stand there. Go get her and get the damned tunnel open.” He turned from the mirror to Andi. “Well, well, what do we have here? A baby, my dear? How delightful.” He clapped his hands and laughed and then his laughter turned into a snarl. “Just how stupid do you think I am?”
Andi tried to wipe the shock and fear from her face. “Poynter said you’d be here,” she lied and hurried on. “The lair is under attack. The Guardians found it.” She held the carrier up. “I found this and was going to bring it to you. It’s a Guardian baby, borne by a witch. I found where they live, Abyar.”
“And what good does that do us now that you’ve led them to the lair?” They both turned at the sound of fighting on the stairs. “Have you led them here, too?”
“No! No one followed. We were careful.”
“Not careful enough,” he snapped, rising from his chair. His hands changed to the three-taloned claws of his demon form. “Get the damned mirror opened. If my get-rich-quick schemes have failed,” he snarled, letting her know he’d heard her comment, “It’s because you always manage to screw them up.” He glanced at the door. “We need to leave.”
A sharp claw swiped across her cheek and Abyar sneered when Andi cried out. “Use your own blood and do it fast.” His curled lip elongated into the face of a demon.
A flare of bright light flashed beneath the closed door and then the door burst open and Andi screamed.
“Abyar!”
~*~
The woman went inside the partially boarded up building. The demon started to get back into the car. Broadbent raced down the road, caught the car door as it was closing and yanked the creature from the seat. The demon completed its change as it stumbled, but it didn’t charge the Guardian. Instead, it staggered for the building the woman had entered.
Broadbent thundered after it. Ignoring the sharp and poisonous barbs, he grabbed the lashing tail and yanked. The demon fell back one step. It tried to turn back and kick out at Broadbent, but the stairwell was too narrow.
The demon was already wounded. Sulfurous smelling blood already oozed from an open wound at its neck. Beneath that odor was another, faint but distinct; the scent of vampire; the scent of Otto.
Enraged, the Guardian yanked again and this time used the demon’s imbalance to leap over its tail and onto its back. He grabbed the snout and pulled the head up, exposing the throat. The knife he’d drawn from his sleeve made quick work of the rest. Demon heart and body turning to dust. He heard the woman’s sharp cry of pain.
Broadbent ran upward, leaving the knife buried in the pile of clothes and demon ashes on the stairs. He took the steps in giant leaps and burst through the door, ready to rescue the child he knew to be one of the twins. The woman screamed a warning to the demon. Broadbent’s battle rage soared beyond reason.
“Abyar!”
~*~
Pinkie stopped the scooter a few doors up from where the Guardians had parked.
“Go!” she shouted to Hope, “Your legs are longer than mine. I’ll wait here until I see you on the sidewalk.”
Hope was to run and without putting herself in danger, grab the first Guardian she saw and tell him what happened. Once the tale was told, Pinkie would pick her up and off they would go with the Guardians at their heels.
“Sorry, Hope,” Pinkie whispered as she put the little scooter in gear and skimmed past the woman running up the sidewalk. There was no time to waste explaining to the men. She had to get there before Broadbent. She saw JJ flash the blue fire she’d heard so much about and saw the demon she aimed it at light up. It danced over his body like St. Elmo’s fire before it fell.
Flying around the corner, she saw the old Caddy, bumper missing and door open, and knew she’d read the vision right. Pinkie ignored the kickstand of the scooter and let it fall as she ran to the house.
She also knew she was too late as soon as she entered. An assortment of clothing littered the stairs. Broadbent’s knife protruded from the cloth and ashes. She grabbed the knife and ran to the sounds of fighting overhead. Abyar’s snarling roar was drowned out by Broadbent’s cultured voice screaming out her name in a battle cry that sent chills up her spine.
“For Patience!”
Chapter 30
Broadbent’s mind and body went into overdrive at the sound of the hated name. A rage wrought by more than possessiveness and protection swelled within him. Palms broadened, fingers lengthened. Loose fitting trousers now strained at the seams as thigh muscles expanded to take up the space. The new jacket shredded as seams gave way. His hardened face became more frightening as fury carved itself into its stone-like countenance.
This was the demon who’d taken years of happiness from the woman Broadbent loved. The woman standing by the mirror was no innocent victim, but a crone of dark magic, as evil as any demon. And the basket carrier that looked like the one Grace used, was hers in fact, and the silent and watchful infant it carried was his namesake. What had they done to his woman and his House, to the people he loved?
He attacked the demon with a ferocity he hadn’t known he possessed.
Eyes blazing in red and gold, Guardian and demon met chest to chest, claw to knife. They grappled for supremacy; one desperate for escape, the other incensed beyond reason. They tore at each other, claws imbedding in the Guardian’s shoulder, knife slicing beneath the demon’s scales. The chair toppled. The lamp crashed to the floor. Lamp cord yanked from the wall, the room fell to darkness except for the eerie green glow from the mirror.
~*~
When the battling demon and Guardian took their fight far enough away, Andi ran to the mirror leaning against the wall. She had to move quickly before the berserker Guardian turned his wrath on her. The look he gave her when he saw the child was enough to make her blood run cold.
She didn’t use the blood from her cheek. Once the mirror was opened, she knew Abyar would make a break for it, hoping to lure the Guardian after him. Once there, he had only to push the unsuspecting Guardian from the path and into the void.
She had no intention of letting that happen. She had no love for the Guardian, but she hated the bastard Abyar more. She was tired of trying to save his sorry ass. She was sick of bending her will to his. He was on his own and by the look on that Guardian’s face when he burst through the door, Abyar was about to be torn apart. The blood bond would be broken and she would be free. Her only regret was that she couldn’t stay and watch it.
She didn’t need the ritual to open the mirror. She had no use for a circle of protection and she’d be damned if she’d bow to the four corners, begging for blessing. After her time with Abyar, she would never bow to anything again. She’d only used that part of the ritual because he forced her to. His days of forcing her to do anything were over.
She had the child. She had the power. This time it was she who would bargain the way through the demon world. The old crones who lived there would be happy to trade the secrets of beauty for a few drops of the child’s powerful blood. With beauty and cash and power, she could have everything. For once in her life, Andi was going to get what she deserved.
Abyar had left the connection open so the first part of the incantation wasn’t needed. The words to the second part fell from her mouth faster than they ever had before. The color of the mirror darkened. The shimmering waves became more pronounced, not an image behind the glass, but turning the mirror into a curtained passage to the Otherworld. The way was open. Andi hesitated only a moment.
What if the baby didn’t make it? The passage was for one being. Would the void see the baby as another or, because of its size, allow it to pass as a basket of goods to be sold? There was only one way to find out.
Andi stepped through the glass. It was gratifying to hear the demon bastard behind her call out her name. It was the last time she would hear it. If he managed to escape the Guardian and enter the mirror, he would be the one torn apart in the void. If the Guardian followed, so much the better.
The shattered door hung from bent hinges. The apartment already smelled like blood and burning sulfur. Pinkie’s gasp when she saw Broadbent, torso bare, covered in blood and demon gore went beyond what she’d seen in the crystal ball. His body was immense in its proportions and the air around him reeked with the primal savagery of his ancestors.
Grappling for dominance, he and the demon locked in a deadly embrace. Abyar’s broken talons grasped at Broadbent’s back. Broadbent’s fangs sank mercilessly into the demon’s shoulder. They broke apart to the sound of tearing flesh. Broadbent was the first to regain control.
Abyar screamed as the Guardian gripped the scales at the demon’s sides as if the demon was a pot and the scales were handles. With another roar of her name, Broadbent lifted and threw the demon cross the room in Pinkie’s direction. She dove to the floor to get out of the way and missed the lethal lash of the demon’s tail by inches.
Broadbent’s distraction when he saw her was almost his undoing. Demon claws raked across his chest. He fell back and into the ornate frame of mirror. The carved angel at the top crashed against the wall and one of its wings went skittering across the floor. Bellowing in rage, Broadbent gripped the open jaws of the beast. He ignored the deadly teeth piercing his palms. His muscles bulged with the effort to force the jaws apart.
The shimmering waves in the silvered glass calmed to a hazy glow and the mirror began to topple. Pinkie scrambled across the floor to save it and in that moment, her course became clear.
The woman in the vision wasn’t here and yet the ball had shown her clearly. She had to find the woman and Sebastian and there was only one place they could be.
There was nothing she could do to help Broadbent. As closely locked as the two combatants were, her magic could as easily harm as help. Besides, it looked like Broadbent was enjoying himself. On closer inspection, his injuries were few. Most of the gore was Abyar’s and the demon was losing ground fast. She’d missed seeing her lover in action when the demons attacked in the alley and she would have liked to see Abyar finally get what he deserved, but other things were more important. And knowing her Guardian as she did, Broadbent would never countenance placing his welfare above Sebastian’s.
These thoughts flickered through her mind in an instant. Her hands were already dragging the heavy mirror back into an upright position. Her lips were already forming the words to the incantation. After fifteen years of silence, she was surprised at how easily and swiftly the spell flowed. Always, in that far distant past, the words had faltered on her tongue. She made her door as silent as she could so as not to forewarn the witch that another was at work. A slice across her little finger brought enough blood to the surface. One drop, two, and three as she spoke the final words.
The glass darkened to a deep blue. It rippled outward in rings like the calm water of a pond when a stone disrupts the surface. Every mirror worker had a signature and this was hers. Pinkie stepped through it and into a tunnel of emptiness.
Others would hesitate at this point, blink and wait for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Pinkie knew there was no adjustment to be made. ‘Tunnel’ was a misnomer used because there was no word to describe the nothingness between the worlds. There were no sides to this tunnel, no ceiling, and Pinkie wondered about the floor.
Dark grey against the blackness surrounding it, the path stretched ahead. It shimmered like the mirror, but with a less substantial glow. Even as she ran along it toward the pale square of the door in the distance, she felt the path might disappear beneath her feet at any moment. Madam told her that with the closing of the door at either end, the path would melt back into the void surrounding it. Pinkie prayed that her more recent and powerful opening would override the witch’s if the witch made it through before her.
She hadn’t gone far, but was already puffing with the exertion when she saw the woman ahead, bent double and crying out Abyar’s name. The carrier sat at her feet. In a night filled with misfortune, this scene offered a tiny glimmer of hope. She thought she’d have to follow the path into the Otherworld and fight her battle there, but something was happening to the witch. The woman clutched her middle as if something was being torn from it.
With a flash of insight, Pinkie understood. The physical bond between demon and witch was broken. Abyar was dead. Pinkie felt nothing, proof that Manon was right. Pinkie’s smile of success died before it blossomed.
The cause of the debilitating pain that stopped the witch was gone. She straightened, shouted a ragged laugh and started to unbuckle the straps that held Sebastian safely in his seat. Behind the witch, the door at the other end of the tunnel suddenly lightened.
Another mirror worker, a good one, was opening and enlarging the door wide enough to allow a small troop of minions through. Pinkie could see the shadows of their forms backlit by the light of the room the door opened into. The creatures poured through it. If Pinkie saw it, the kidnapper would see it, too. If the woman started running again, Pinkie would never catch her, and even if she did, the long run back would take more speed and endurance than she had in her.
Not since high school had Pinkie regretted her lack of long legs and lithe body, orher lack of athletic ability. The only slim chance of success left was to stop the woman from moving further along the path and lamenting her high school years wouldn’t help. Or would it?
