Guardian's Patience Read online

  Anything is possible if you believe...

  Short and round, she dresses like a gypsy in vibrant and sometimes clashing colors. She’s been known to dye her hair to match her mood. She does a Good Deed every day and smiles at everyone she meets. But underneath her happy-go-lucky exterior, Patience Delecourt is lonely and afraid. She’s the mouse in a demon’s Cat-and-Mouse game that’s been going on for fifteen years. Her ideal hero would come straight out of the old movies she watches, night after night, alone in her tiny apartment.

  Stuffy and socially awkward, Broadbent ad Sebastian, Guardian of the Race, has his vision of the ideal woman, too; tall, elegant, cultured, and well-read. But every time he meets someone who might fill the bill, his advances are met with laughter and derision. As hard as he tries to emulate his fellow Guardians; their prowess with women, their clothes, their interests; he just can’t get it right.

  He doesn’t see himself as handsome or a hero. She doesn’t see herself as beautiful or brave. Yet what they find together opens new worlds of wonder for them both. It also opens the doors to old enemies and sets off a series of events that threaten the House of Guardians and the people within it. With the credits ready to roll on their mismatched love story, Patience and Broadbent will have to find the bravery and heroism they see in each other, and decide how much they will sacrifice for love.

  Guardian's Patience

  A Novel of the Guardians of the Race

  by

  Jacqueline Rhoades

  Kindle Edition

  Copyrighted 2014 by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Cover art: E-Covers by Georgi

  Join Jackie’s email newsletter to hear about what’s coming next and to be eligible for subscribers-only giveaways and excerpts. You can sign up at:

  www.jacquelinerhoades.com

  Please Take Note:

  Book Piracy is against the law.

  This ebook is copyrighted and sold for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. To legally share this book with another person, please purchase a separate copy for each recipient. If you received this book from a site that did not require you to purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then chances are you're reading a pirated copy. Only libraries are authorized to distribute this book without purchase. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  My Thanks

  One of the unexpected wonders of this journey

  Are the readers

  Who took the time to say they enjoyed my work

  Through personal emails and reviews

  Your kindness and support

  Has been a blessing.

  May it return to you tenfold.

  My Thanks Also

  to

  Linda Baker

  The fan who gave Patience her name

  You were absolutely right!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Books by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Prologue

  Among the Guardians this story is told…

  When humans first came upon the earth, God sent a sect of his Children, angels as it were, to instruct those humans in righteousness. These Children, these sons of God, were seduced by the Daughters of Man. In their beguilement they taught these Daughters of Man the arts of magic and witchcraft to please them and to entice the women to take them as husbands and in the fullness of time the women bore forth the Nephilim, mighty giants who were known as heroes and renowned for their strength and prowess and huge appetites for all things of pleasure.

  Time passed and under the influence of the Daughters of Man, the Nephilim lost their way. They abused their gifts, used their size and strength to make war for their own advancement and eventually began to feed on the blood and lives of humans. Over the centuries they forgot the strictures of their fathers.

  God was not pleased and He set a curse upon their kind. He sent his Angel Gabriel to make war upon them and The Great Flood to annihilate those that remained. Still, a few survived and those few saw the error of their ways. They could not change what they were, but they could change the way they lived. Thus the Paenitentia were born. The Penitents. The Race.

  They refused to take the blood of humans and in atonement for past sins, pledged to protect their members and humankind from the ravaging of those demons that escape through the portals from the Otherworld that was created when God closed the Gates of Heaven. They have lived among and yet apart from their human cousins for centuries, forbidden the light of day. We are their descendants. We are the Guardians of the Race.

  But, among the Daughters of Man, the story differs…

  When humanity was in its childhood, God sent a sect of his Servants, angels some say, to instruct those humans in righteousness. These Servants became fascinated by the beauty and comeliness of the Daughters of Man. This fascination soon turned to lust. In order to lure the women away from their families, the Servants bestowed upon the Daughters gifts of abilities beyond the realm of man. The women were beguiled by these gifts, seduced by the Servants who appeared as men, and taken as wives. In the fullness of time the Daughters bore the fruits of their seduction. Their sons were called Nephilim. They were giants of great power and glory, renowned for their immense appetites for all things of pleasure and war and the traits of the fathers were passed to the sons.

  So it was for the women also, their gifts being passed from mother to daughter so that the lineage of the mix of Servant and human continued and the Daughters of Man became a race unto themselves.

  Time passed and the Nephilim lost their way. They abused their power, took pleasure in pain and torment and began to feed on the blood of humans. The Daughters who loved them and had been faithful to them were forsaken. God sent Gabriel to make war upon them and the Great Flood reduced their numbers further.

  Under threat of annihilation, the Paenitentia were born. They saw the Daughters of Man as the source of their downfall and renounced them, severing all ties.

  The Daughters of Man quietly continued, suffering the indignities of persecution, making their way as best they could, passing the gifts and knowledge down from one generation to the next, Daughter to Daughter. They no longer bore sons.

  They were forced to live the lives of humans in the human world. They learned to adapt to maintain their anonymity. As we do today. We are their descendants. We are among the Daughters of Man.

  Chapter 1

  Pinkie Delecourt only had three rules in life, but she adhered to those three like the proverbial glue. Thou shalt not frown but be always smiling and cheerful, was at the top of the list. Thou shalt do a Good Deed every day, ran a close second. For fifteen years, those rules were the only things that kept the evil at bay.

  It was getting late and though she’d been watching the street for hours, no Good Deed presented itself. Pinkie really didn’t
want to get out her crystal ball to do a search for someone who needed help. Crystal balls could be tricky. This one never showed her anything good and often showed her tragedies she could do nothing to prevent. She’d use it if she had to, but only as a last resort. The Good Deed for the Day was that important.

  The Deed could be a simple courtesy like picking up the spilled groceries someone dropped, or as important as calling the cops on a party where under aged girls were being used as the entertainment. The size of the Good Deed didn’t matter, only that she did one. Should she wait for one to present itself or should she go in search of one?

  The inner debate was unnecessary. Her Good Deed for the day was about to walk in the door of Good Fortune, her little shop on Canal Street.

  No crystal ball was needed for this. She wouldn’t need the tarot, or the rune stones, either. From the minute the poor girl walked up to the door of Good Fortune, leaving the boyfriend outside, Pinkie knew what the young woman was looking for and knew it was a mistake.

  It was the eye roll that gave the guy away. It wasn’t an indulgent isn’t-she-cute eye roll. It was a God-I can’t-believe-how-stupid-the-bitch-is eye roll. He gave it to the girl while he watched her struggle to open the bright pink door to the shop, her arms overloaded with boxes and bags. The loser was too busy lighting a cigarette to help.

  “Oh!” Packages tumbled from the girl’s arms in her failed attempt to grab the bakery box that went sailing from the top of her precariously balanced burden.

  Pinkie dove from the display she was rearranging, arms outstretched. Her gauzy, purple skirt swirled around her ankles as she pirouetted with the box. It seemed to float for a moment above her palms before settling into them.

  “Ta-da,” she sang as it fell upright into her hands. She dropped into a little curtsy as she presented the rescued box. Setting it down on a little table, and straightening her yellow blouse, she turned back to the girl who was restacking her boxes and stuffing smaller items back into her shopping bag. “Here, let me help.”

  “Thanks, but I have it,” the girl said, straightening. “You saved the most important one. Thanks,” she said again, “I thought it was a goner.”

  “I was a football player in another life. This is my punishment.” She held out her hands to display her body.

  At five feet, two inches, Pinkie’s shape was similar to the ball those players carried, though unlike the football, she did have a bit of a waist. The girl laughed as Pinkie knew she would, then looked around for a place to lay her packages. She rejected the overflowing checkout counter with its piles of labels, bottles, and used packing supplies.

  Pinkie pointed to the dainty pink ice cream shop table surrounded by three pale violet chairs that sat against one wall. “Why don’t you put the rest of your packages with this one, honey. Give your arms a rest while you look around.”

  With a grateful sigh, the girl did as asked, and while her back was turned from the window, Pinkie frowned at the rudeness of the laughing smoker watching them both. She wagged her finger at him. He ought to be ashamed of himself for letting his girlfriend carry everything.

  His response was to take a drag from his cigarette and blow a stream of smoke at her, which left a film of tar and nicotine on the window she’d cleaned just that morning. His gesture ended in a snarky little kiss.

  Pinkie raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that said she didn’t find him amusing. Just as he raised the cigarette again for another display of arrogance, her raised finger tapped forward as if pressing an invisible button in the air. The glowing tip of his cigarette burst into flame. Now it was her turn to blow a little kiss of her own as he slapped at the shower of sparks and ash that dotted his chest. She did it silently though, and all the girl saw when Pinkie turned back to the table was a friendly smile.

  The girl was a little taller than Pinkie, but delicately built. Her porcelain face was lost beneath an abundance of curly brown hair, just as her figure was lost beneath the neat, but plain skirt and blouse that were a size too large. She should have been pretty.

  “Not your daughter’s,” Pinkie said, nodding at the cake with ‘Happy Sweet 16th Bethany’ written in pink icing. The young woman would have given birth at ten to have a daughter that old. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, though her eyes looked much older.

  “No, it’s my...”

  “Niece,” Pinkie finished with a logical conclusion. With the surprised look she got from the girl, she knew she got it right. Again.

  “Why, yes!” Then the girl’s face fell. She frowned and shrugged. “My sister...”

  “Doesn’t think it’s important,” Pinkie said, putting what she knew in polite terms. She nodded at the window where God’s gift to womanhood scowled. “Neither does he. He thinks you dote too much on the girl.” She didn’t need any supernatural power to tell her that the self-centered bonehead wouldn’t like his girlfriend spending money on anyone but him.

  The girl’s eyes widened further at the accuracy of Pinkie’s statement. “How do you do that?”

  People asked this all the time and Pinkie was always tempted to tell the truth because she wasn’t, by nature, a liar. Seventy-five percent of her ‘knowledge’ came from observation; look, listen, and learn. The other twenty-five percent came from her mother, who had the power of foresight. Pinkie wasn’t as good as her mother, but she was better than most of the frauds plying the trade.

  The dozen bangle bracelets lining her forearm clattered together in a jangle of metal as Pinkie raised her hand to pat the knot of the multicolored silk scarf she’d chosen as her head piece that morning. Business was business and it was important to keep up the mystique. She held out her hand.

  “I’m Pinkie, and you are?” she asked, avoiding both truth and falsehood.

  That earned her another smile. People expected a fortune teller to have a more exotic sounding name even if it wasn’t a real one. Pinkie’d had so many names over the years that it was getting hard to keep track.

  “Emilene,” the young woman answered and shrugged. “I’m looking for...” The girl looked anxiously around the room and chose excuse over intent. “Oh, um, I thought I might find something for my niece. She’s becoming a little wild and...” She shrugged again as if she didn’t know how to go on.

  “You thought you might find a talisman to keep her safe.”

  The girl shrugged again. “Or change her ways?”

  “Only she can change her ways,” Pinkie told her honestly. For some things, only the truth would do. “But let’s see what I have that might help.” Mindful of the woman’s apparel, Pinkie led the girl to a modestly priced display of stones set in silver-toned metal.

  “How about one of these?” She pointed to a row of golden ones. “Citrine. Dissipates negative energy, promotes clarity and confidence and might help relieve some of the problems at home, too.” She took the velvet lined case from the shelf and laid it on top of the glass. “Or,” she said, and the young woman raised her head from the stones so she and Pinkie were eye to eye, “You can bring her to live with you.”

  “Oh,” the woman said with a nervous glance at her lover, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Anything is possible if you believe.” This was a phrase she repeated often to her customers and it was said in a way that implied she knew something they didn’t. She gave the words a moment to sink in, then raised her eyebrows. “What else can I get for you?”

  Another nervous look at the window where lover-creep was glaring at the two of them. “I...I thought maybe...um...a reading? But I shouldn’t...um...I don’t really have time.”

  Pinkie could do something to the boyfriend to buy the girl time. It was tempting. After the exploding cigarette, it was too tempting. No matter how innocuous the act might seem, practicing that kind of magic was dangerous; something Pinkie knew only too well. Besides, the girl didn’t really want a reading.

  “Then how about I give you a little something else? Something that will make you see
things more clearly. You can stop by next week for a reading.” She disappeared into the tiny work room and returned with a small cobalt blue bottle and a package of tea. “Two drops and only two drops in a cup of chamomile tea before bed,” She instructed. “Think of your future while you sip your tea and then pay attention to your dreams.”

  The young woman frowned, but picked up the triangular shaped bottle. Her eyes slid to Pinkie’s. “I thought maybe you’d have something...um... for him?” Her eyes slid to the window.

  The girl was looking for a love potion and while it wasn’t beyond Pinkie’s talents, she refused to make them. The love they produced was false and false love was as dangerous as dark magic; something else she’d learned to her sorrow.

  “Come next week. Come alone, or better yet, bring your niece. I’ll do readings for you both, a buy one, get one free kind of thing in honor of her birthday. And after that, you can better decide what type of ‘something’ you’d like.”

  “There’s more than one?” the girl asked curiously.

  Pinkie hooded her eyes and smiled her most mysterious smile. “Oh, honey, for him? There are dozens to choose from.”

  When the money was in the register and the store was empty, Pinkie looked down at the little orange cat who glared up at her with flattened ears.

  “Oh, get over it. I didn’t do anything to him,” she told the cat.

  The cat continued to stare.

  “All right,” Pinkie snapped, throwing up her hands. “I did, but it was a slip, okay? You saw him. He deserved it,” she said and then bit her tongue on the words. “I only gave her something to see herself as she could be and to see him for what he is; a Creep with a capital ‘C’.”

  Pinkie thought it was an excellent Good Deed. The power of the sweet dreams potion came from a little charm, a little magic and a whole lot of suggestion, but that didn’t matter. Emilene would begin to see herself as she should be, not as she was, and once she did, she’d have enough courage to kick the rat bastard to the curb. When she returned for a reading and Pinkie knew she would, Emilene would be more receptive to whatever the cards foretold. With any luck, she could do a good deed for the niece, as well.