Guardian's Patience, page 31
part #5 of Guardians of the Race Series
Tibia, fibula, talus. Posterior and anterior tibiotalar ligament, tibiocalcaneal ligament. No sooner was the question asked than the answer came, along with the spell she’d used to ruin the cheerleader’s ankle. It needed no blood, but blood added power and swiftness to any spell and when she saw the witch look up, Broadbent’s knife reopened the wound on her little finger. The kidnapper’s scream echoed off into the void.
But reaching Sebastian would only solve half her problems. The demons were getting closer, shouting and screaming in their mad dash along the path. She didn’t know what their goal was, but she suspected it was to retrieve the infant and rescue the witch who’d stolen him. Or to slaughter them both.
In spite of her labored breathing and a heart that felt like it would burst in her chest, Pinkie tried to keep up her pace along the path. She was almost there.
“Ah, how clever of you, Patience, to use the crippling cheerleader ploy.”
Broadbent was alive and he was here and Pinkie was never so happy to hear his voice. Though it was ragged and hoarse, and faltering with exhaustion, he was trying to reassure her with his normal, dry humor. And she loved him for it.
She stopped, bent to ease her lungs, and pointed ahead where the witch’s hands were moving, weaving a spell.
“Oh, Pookie, run. Hurry! Save Sebastian!”
“Steady on, now, little dove. There’s no need to add to the din. I see the little fellow. Can you keep the witch busy?”
“She’s got another ankle, doesn’t she?” Pinkie replied as a way to let him know his efforts to lift her spirit worked.
“That’s my girl,” he said as he ran past.
The witch’s second scream was swallowed by the darkness as she tumbled from the path and into the void. Broadbent grabbed the carrier from her as she fell. He started back toward safety without a backward glance.
Only Pinkie saw how close the demons were and how weakened Broadbent was. He was bleeding everywhere and she knew the demon poison was coursing through his body with every step he took. There was no way he could fight the number of creatures heading toward them.
He grabbed for her hand to pull her along in a move that should have been seamless, yet he staggered with it.
Within a half dozen steps, Pinkie knew they wouldn’t make it. Broadbent didn’t have the strength to get both she and the baby through the mirror in time. He had to shorten his stride to keep pace with her. Her short legs and burning lungs were holding them back. Blood was pouring down his arm and onto the hand that held hers, making it all the more difficult to hang on. She let her hand slip from his.
“Run,” she told him, gasping. “Save the baby. I can slow them down and then I’ll follow. I promise,” she whispered and the lie came easily because she knew he had to believe it. “Save Sebastian, Broadbent. Please!”
Broadbent looked like he was about to protest, but then he nodded, kissed her quickly, and ran on. Pinkie watched his long legs carry him away. He’d make it and so would Sebastian. Her smile was bittersweet with the knowledge that this was what was meant to be.
She drew Broadbent’s knife from her waistband. It was a comfort to have something of his to hold. Like the Guardian it belonged to, the blade gave her courage. With it securely in her hand, she turned to face the oncoming demons.
Just as she had all those years ago, she wove the spell amidst her fear. She began the incantation in a whisper and called the energy to her. Wisps and tendrils of it floated like fog along the path. In swirling curls of smoke, it coalesced overhead. Brightly colored strands of it danced through the darkness to either side of the path.
Her voice gained strength as the words of power filled her. Her hair stood out in a breeze that couldn’t exist in the void between worlds. She raised her arms in welcome and the energy swirled into an opaque ball between her hands.
Once, long ago, when she’d run from the Otherworld, she’d protested that it wasn’t her time to die. This time, there was no protest. She knew it was her time. This was where all those years had led her. This was her last Good Deed.
She hurled the ball with all the force her magic could muster and then ripped the razor sharp blade along the inside of her arm from wrist to elbow. She screamed the last words of her spell as the blood gushed from her arm. Here in the void, she could see the bright red essence of her blood flow out and into the ball of energy. Blood magic, and her blood was rich with it; rich with the gift of it. She slashed her arm again.
“Love ya, Pookie,” she whispered as her blood flowed out and the ball of energy exploded amidst the evil charging toward her.
White light enveloped her as her body was carried back by the blast, yet all she felt was the soul filling power and protection of love. Patience Penelope Persephone Pendergast had finally been forgiven.
Chapter 31
“Damn, I wish you could have seen it, Gracie. Badass here, flew through the air like a giant football.”
“His name is Sebastian, Dov, and he’s neither a badass nor a football. He’s a baby.”
Col nudged his brother with his elbow and laughed at Grace. “You can call him Sebastian, but from here on in, the little guy is Badass to us. When the boss snagged him out of the air, the kid was laughing. It was the funniest sound. He thought it was cool.”
“Canaan, tell your nephews your son’s name is Sebastian,” Grace insisted, “And babies his age don’t laugh.”
“B.A. for short?” the Lord Canaan suggested with a straight face that broke into a grin. “It was pretty amazing, sweetling. Broadbent came barreling through that mirror, saw me and said, ‘Your son, my Lord’ and that damned carrier thing came flying at me. Broadbent disappears back into the mirror. Two seconds later, he comes flying out again with Pinkie in his arms, shouting, ‘Down! Get down!’”
They’d told the story fifty times and still hadn’t tired of it.
“We all hit the floor,” Nardo added.
“Not until I pushed you down.” Dov preened like a peacock. “Me and Col have experience with this shit.”
Col jumped in. “Next thing you know, we got this king sized ball of energy flying through the room. Bam!” he shouted, “It hits the wall and the whole front of the fucking house explodes and disappears. We’re thinking it’s done and we’re all getting to our feet.”
“When Bam! It’s back and flying through the mirror.” Dov slammed his hands together. “And Bam! Broadbent kicks the mirror and it crashes down on Col. Col’s kicking and screaming, trying to get the fucking thing off and his boot goes through the mirror.”
“I was not screaming.”
“You were,” Nardo laughed, “And squealing like a little girl.”
“Hey. I saved your sorry asses. I was the one who broke that damn mirror.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you were kicking and squealing like a little girl.”
“And there’s Nico and Canaan halfway down the stairs, sitting on the second floor landing, ‘cause the bottom flight of stairs are gone. They’re grinning like fools ‘cause Badass is laughing his stinky little ass off at all the screaming and noise.”
“He’s a baby, damn you!” Grace held her son tightly to her chest, remembering how close she came to losing him. Twice.
“He’s a Guardian, Grace. Get used to it.” Otto’s chuckle turned into a painful cough. His wounds were healed, but the damage to his body had taken its toll.
Broadbent patted her hand in consolation. “Have no fear, Grace. Being a badass doesn’t necessarily exclude a good education with an appreciation for the finer things in life.”
“Yeah, Gracie, listen to the Professor. He’s Badass of the Month.”
Broadbent’s body had suffered, too, but the demon poison had been purged and he was on the mend. He shook his head at Dov’s comment.
“No, I’m merely a Guardian in tweed. It wasn’t me who saved the day.”
“No, Pookie, you’re the hero. My hero,” Pinkie whispered, clutching the hand that held hers.
With great effort, she forced her eyes open. The lids felt like they were made of lead. She looked at the Guardians and Daughters of Man surrounding her, at little Alice in her father’s arms, and the infant Sebastian. Lastly, she took in Broadbent. His face was streaked with the healing lines of the wounds he sustained.
Their eyes met and the corners of his mouth curled up in what passed for his public smile and then he lowered his head so no one would see the tears in his eyes. But Pinkie did. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.
“This can’t be heaven,” she said, “Dov and Col are here.”
“Badass and Smartass sounds a lot better than Pookie and Pinkie.” JJ tapped Pinkie’s shoulder with her fist. “Welcome home, fluffball.”
Pinkie’s eyes closed with a smile on her lips and Broadbent’s kiss on her forehead.
It was another two days before she opened her eyes again.
“I thought I was dead,” she told the women a week later, “I know now it was Broadbent, but at the time...”
They were gathered in Manon’s parlor where a small fire blazed in the hearth. Manon and Pinkie were the only ones who sat close to the flames; Manon because of her age, Pinkie because she’d been cold ever since she’d returned from the void.
“The white light almost killed him,” Hope whispered of the light that allowed Guardians to move with incredible speed. “I’ll bet he didn’t tell you that.”
Grace nodded when Pinkie didn’t answer. “He wouldn’t, but it’s true. Moving in white light takes a tremendous amount of energy and poor Broadbent didn’t have much left. He fought in the raid at the demon’s lair, ran down an escapee, fought another at the door of the mirror house and then fought Abyar. His body was riddled with poison. When they brought you home, I wasn’t sure about either one of you. He was so torn up and you.” She turned her head away and dabbed at her eyes.
JJ took over. “You looked like death warmed over. When they brought you in, you were covered with so much blood we didn’t know where to start looking. It’s a damn good thing Grace is so good with a needle and Hope has your blood type. Those guys laugh about it now, but no one was laughing when they brought you home. What the hell happened in there?”
“I was redeemed,” was all Pinkie would say.
“The witch.” Hope looked at the other women, daring them to stop her. “Do you know her name?”
“She’s not the one who stabbed Col,” Grace argued. “She couldn’t be.”
“Broadbent said the demon called her Andi. The demon’s name was Abyar. It’s her, Grace. It has to be.”
“That Andi was young and beautiful. I saw her. You saw her, too.”
“So was this one,” Pinkie told them. “Once. I don’t think she was that old, and let’s face it, what are the odds that Abyar would find another Andi. It’s not a common name. It was the beauty spells she wanted. She thought they cured her problems, but they only made things worse.”
“It was not the beauty spells that made her ugly.” Manon put another piece of wood on the fire and tightened her shawl around her shoulders. “It was the choices she made. That creature chose evil over good. She embraced it,” she said to Pinkie, “And her mirror reflected it. You saw ugliness in the mirror and chose to set evil aside. It was never about addiction. It was always about choice. The most beautiful woman in the world will see ugliness in the mirror if she allows the evil inside her to roam free.”
“I don’t see ugly in the mirror anymore,” Pinkie said thoughtfully, “But I still don’t see beauty.”
“That’s because you haven’t attended enough of Manon’s Philosophy classes.” Hope laughed and quoted in a terrible French accent. “The one who said beauty is only skin deep was a fool.”
“The one who said beauty is in the eyes of the beholder was wise,” JJ continued.
“Behold that beauty in yourself and others will behold it, too,” Grace added and then conducted the others with her finger.
“Beauty comes from within and all women are beautiful,” they sang together.
“If they choose to be,” Pinkie amended.
“Oui,” Manon nodded and laughed with the others, “And if they don’t make fun of wise old women. Those that do, become ugly old crones.”
“So, will I be embracing evil if I say I’m glad Pinkie blew the bitch into oblivion?” Grace asked. She didn’t look too worried about it.
“Hell no.”
“Don’t think so.”
“Good. Then we have something else to celebrate at your mating, Pinkie.”
“Hoo boy,” JJ shook her head, “Hope, you’d better tell Nico to buy more booze.”
Everyone laughed except Pinkie. Grace, whose gift of empathy had returned, was the first to notice.
“What is it, sweetie? And don’t say nothing. I hate when people do that.”
Pinkie was tempted to say just that, but she’d been in the House long enough to know Grace would find a way to get it out of her. She lifted her shoulders and dropped them with a sigh. “The mating.”
“You don’t want to seal the deal with Broadbent?” JJ asked, incredulous and a little angry.
“No! I mean yes. Oh, hell.” Pinkie’s shoulders dropped again. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to arrange to have it here, but Broadbent’s such a traditionalist. I knew he wanted to do it in the church, but... but I was afraid,” she admitted.
“And now you’re not.” Hope said it quietly with a smile, and then she laughed. “You had that I-don’t-belong-here-What-if-He-strikes-me-dead thing going, huh?”
At Pinkie’s look, Hope tapped her head and spread her hands. “Didn’t need magic to figure that one out. I could have told you it doesn’t work that way.”
“Telling and believing are two different things,” Pinkie confessed and looked down at her bandaged arm, “And after that night, I believed.” They could tell her all they wanted about Broadbent’s white light and she knew that it was true, but only in part. Something else had happened to her in the void, but it wasn’t something she would share with anyone but Broadbent. Someday. “Will it be too much trouble? For Broadbent, I mean.”
With a glance at Manon and the two babies sleeping on their blanket on the floor, Grace started to sniffle.
“For you and Broadbent, nothing will ever be too much trouble.”
JJ threw up her hands. “Thanks a lot, fluffball. Now look what you’ve done. You’ve turned a perfectly nice conversation into another blubber fest. I’d better go put on more tea.”
“I saw that, JJ. I saw you wipe that eye,” Hope called after her as she wiped the wetness from her own. “You’re a fake, a big skinny fake.”
Chapter 32
Manon had worked another kind of magic with her needle and thread. She’d found the perfect combination of Pinkie’s style and Broadbent’s tradition in the gown Pinkie found lying on her bed. The neck was wide, the scoop of it deep. The bodice was full and comfortable. She’d added long, sheer sleeves to the original sleeveless design to disguise the long, angry looking lines of her almost healed wounds. The flowing skirt was belted with a wide silver band, proving once and for all that Pinkie did have a waist.
The dress was beautiful and she felt beautiful in it. She was beginning to believe what the women claimed was true.
Pinkie couldn’t wait for Broadbent to see her, but when she came floating down the stairs, she was just as surprised to see him. Being who he was, she’d expected a tux. Instead, he was dressed in white, too.
His pristine and crisply starched shirt was open at the neck and tucked neatly into a pair of finely cut trousers. Over it all and hanging halfway to his knees was a scapula; a wide, seamless length of cloth that fitted over his head and hung fore and aft like the ones she’d seen knights wear in pictures. Over his heart was the embroidered emblem of his House of Guardians.
On that fateful night in the void, something about Broadbent had changed, too. Pinkie didn’t know if the others noticed, but she did.
He stood a little taller, his shoulders a little more squared. He held his chin a little higher. His perfectly tailored clothes that had never hung quite right, now did. With everything combined, it gave him an air of confidence and command, something she’d only seen before when they were alone.
“You’re beautiful, Broadbent,” she told him before he could speak.
“Beauty and Broadbent should never reside within the same sentence.” He offered her his arm. “Beauty and Patience, however, will always reside together, within a sentence or without, but something is lacking in your dress.”
The comment hurt. She loved her dress. But this was Broadbent and he always told the truth as he saw it. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she sighed, because she knew he would.
“It lacks sparkle,” he said as Dov stepped forward and offered an open velvet box.
Pinkie blinked and a diamond necklace and earrings blinked back. Now she knew why Grace and the others had led her to believe that wearing no jewelry was part of the tradition. She threw her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest.
“I think she likes them,” Broadbent said to the others.
She did, but if she spoke she would cry and ruin her makeup.
Broadbent couldn’t hide his surprise when he turned to lead Patience into the parlor for their ceremony and Dov blocked his path.
“Your carriage awaits, sir,” he said and held out his hand to offer them the front door that only recently had been unsealed and replaced.
It was, in fact, a white carriage drawn by a white horse. It was Hope and Nico’s gift, arranged with the help of Manon’s driver, a human who could be trusted with their secrets.
Broadbent’s surprise turned to confusion. “But I thought...”
“You think too much, Guardian,” his perfect Patience laughed.
