Guardian's Faith Page 4

  It was a long, uncomfortable ride. They stopped once for food, but only long enough to stretch their legs and order sandwiches to-go and then they were back in the van and on their way again with Lucien grumbling about wasting time.

  "My home has been left unprotected and I have already wasted enough time on your procurement. I don't want to waste any more on unnecessary stops."

  "I dunno, sir, food is pretty necessary as far as I'm concerned," Lalo said around a mouthful of sandwich. It was his growling stomach that had forced them to stop. "And it's never wasted."

  Faith could attest to that. By a narrow margin, the Ruling Council voted to pay Canaan a small stipend for each Supplicant's training. Grace said the money barely covered half of what they ate. Because of their size and strength and the energy they expended, Guardians ate a lot. The trainees, many of whom had not yet reached full growth, ate even more. Leftovers were unheard of in Canaan's House of Guardians.

  She wondered who did the cooking at Lucien's. She couldn't picture Lord Lucien standing behind the outdoor grill the way Canaan sometimes did and when she pictured him in an apron, she giggled.

  "You will refer to me as my Lord and it's a matter of discipline. You must train yourself not to need, not to want."

  "I'm not sure discipline will stop my stomach from growling, uh, my Lord."

  "Discipline, that's what he needs and I for one hope it works, my Lord," Adam added once he'd swallowed a handful of fries. "Once that stomach of his gets going, it'll wake the dead."

  "Yeah? Well it was your farts that turned them in the first place." Lalo tossed a French fry at Adam.

  Adam caught it. "That was a long time ago," he said before popping it in his mouth.

  "A long time ago? Just last week you cleared the whole damn gym!" Lalo laughed. "If someone had lit a match the whole place would have gone up in flames."

  "Gentlemen," Lucien said quietly, but firmly.

  "That wasn't me," Adam protested.

  "The hell you say. Be prepared," Lalo announced loudly. "The boy's farts could be labeled a lethal weapon. He does it mostly when he's nervous."

  "I have nothing to be nervous about," Adam said indignantly, followed by a muttered, "asshole."

  "Yeah? What about when you were going to go down to the kitchen and ask that pretty… Ow!" Lalo rubbed his arm and punched Adam back.

  "Gentlemen!" Lucien's sharp voice put a halt to the tussle before it could escalate.

  It was quiet after that and Faith dozed some more until she heard Lord Lucien announce that the sun would be rising soon and they needed to find a place to sleep. She held her breath when the van left the interstate and rolled to a stop. If they pulled out their bags, she would be discovered.

  She needn't have worried. Lucien instructed the trainees to take only their backpacks which should have been packed with all they would need for a one day stay. This was something Faith hadn't counted on, hadn't even thought about. None of her co-conspirators had either. How far were they going? How many days would she have to spend confined in the heavy canvas bag without food or water or a bathroom?

  Faith stayed in the van long after sunrise. The three Paenitentia wouldn't risk exposure to the sun and the debilitating sickness that would follow. Álvaro, whatever he might be, was not so restricted. He could return to the van to fetch something one of the others had forgotten.

  Once she felt comfortable that she would not be discovered, she crawled from her cocoon and groaned as she stretched her stiffened limbs. She groaned again when she opened the side door and the sunlight hit her eyes, momentarily blinding her. How long had it been since she'd seen daylight?

  Leaning back against the side of the van, she closed her eyes and soaked up the morning rays. It seeped into her aching joints and muscles and warmed her autumn chilled skin. She'd forgotten how good the sun felt.

  The women of Canaan's House lived by night because their men did, not because they had to. They didn't shun the light. They had business meetings to attend or grocery shopping and the occasional excursion to the mall. Faith always declined their invitations to join them and no one argued with her decision. The House was safe and she felt safe inside it. She rarely left its confines except to run across the back alley to her sister's or Manon's.

  She'd spent almost a year in her zombie-like state and it was almost another since she'd awakened from it. She wasn't sure about the time before that. A year? Two? She'd lost track of time living with Tyn. Each day had been an eternity. She tried not to dwell on it.

  Faith was startled out of her musings by something furry rolling over her feet. She jumped.

  "Oh, my God, how did you get here?" she signed more out of habit than expectation of the cat understanding.

  She had no doubt it was the tiny orange cat that came and went as it pleased, sometimes disappearing for weeks from Canaan's House of Guardians, always reappearing in the kitchen expecting to be fed. It must have found its way into the van while they were packing and slept the trip away as Faith had.

  As if proving her suspicions, the cat pulled its four feet together and arched its back, then slid its front paws along the pavement keeping its rear end in the air. Just as Faith had done in the van, it was stretching out the kinks of its confining ride.

  "Well, how am I going to explain this and how am I going to get you back to Grace without going with you?"

  The cat gave her that look so common to cats that distinctly said, "Like I care?" and walked away with its tail in the air.

  "Wait!"

  Faith hurried after it, but it was no use. By the time she rounded the corner of the building, the cat had disappeared.

  The place wasn't much more than a roadside stop off the interstate highway. A gas station, a convenience store, and a small restaurant shared the same side of the two lane road as the Golden Pond Hotel, which apparently took its name from the gold painted cement fish pond that graced the small area of grass in front of the office.

  Across the road sat a gravel lot filled with cars. A huge sign over a miniature wooden building declared it to be "Roy's Used Cars - No Financing? No Problem!" Next to that was a small house brightly painted in primary colors with a chain link fence where a dozen small children played on equally bright playground equipment; a daycare.

  Faith went back to the van, grabbed her purse and headed for the restaurant where she used the Ladies room to wash her face and comb out her tangled hair before taking her seat at a booth.

  Here she encountered another problem that no one had foreseen. Everyone at the House understood her gestures and sign. Even the new trainees caught on after a week or two. Out here in the real world, as she began to think of it, her ability to communicate was limited. This was brought home to her when she ordered breakfast.

  "Hey there, honey, what can I do ya for this morning?" the smiling middle-aged waitress asked.

  Faith pointed to breakfast #1 on the menu; one egg, one strip of bacon, one slice of toast.

  "Can I get you a cup of coffee with that?"

  Faith nodded and smiled.

  "White, wheat, or rye?"

  Faith looked at the menu, searching for the word to point to. It wasn't there. She signed and at first; the woman looked confused and then her face brightened.

  "Toast! Do you want white, wheat, or rye?" she yelled with exaggerated enunciation. She assumed Faith was hearing impaired as well as mute.

  Faith tried not to wince as the other six people in the restaurant turned and stared. "White," she mouthed back, but the woman couldn't read lips any better than Faith could.

  "Wheat it is," the waitress shouted.

  After finishing half her egg and a few bites of toast and wrapping the strip of bacon in her napkin with the hope of enticing the cat, Faith's second stop was the convenience store where she bought a paperback to help pass the daylight hours and a small spiral notepad along with a package of pens.

  She spent the day searching for the cat and sitting by the now closed-for-th
e-season pool reading a paranormal romance about vampires suffering the tortures of silver chains, wooden crosses and garlic, none of which affected the Guardians at all. These vampires could no longer eat food and she wondered if Grace would find that a blessing or a curse since it was she who had to feed what Broadbent referred to as the screaming hoards of young barbarians who raided her kitchen.

  Dov and Col would probably choose slow death by garlic rather than give up pizza.

  She laughed at the part where the newly made vampire realized he could no longer see his reflection in the mirror. Manon had recently complained that Otto, her mate and a true vampire, constantly borrowed her hand mirror to check the patch of thinning hair at the back of his head and Hope had confided that her Nico spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror, preening.

  The kickass heroine of the novel was, of course, tall, long-legged and beautiful which reminded Faith of JJ until she got to the part describing breasts like ripe melons and long hair that fell to her waist in golden waves and never got in her way when she fought.

  There were parts she couldn't make herself read, parts that called up cruel memories she couldn't face.

  Several times throughout the story, Faith had to close the book and her eyes until the sudden wave of homesickness washed over her and receded.

  The only thing these storybook characters had in common with their real life counterparts was the love each couple shared. It was because of the love and devotion each of her House sisters shared with their mates that Faith found the courage to follow her premonition and embark on this journey. That kind of love was too painful to witness when she knew it could never be hers. Something else would fill that void and hopefully this journey would show her what that was.

  She never found the cat.

  Chapter 5

  "Are we there yet?"

  "Damn, Lalo, how many times are you going to ask?"

  Lalo rubbed his sleep crusted eyes and yawned. "I was asleep, okay? I felt the van stop and I thought we were there."

  Faith felt the same way. The last hour had been torture. The road beneath them had more bumps, ruts and potholes than she could ever imagine and each one added to the assortment of bruises she was sure already covered her body. Someday she'd pay Col back for his bright idea of disguising her as a piece of luggage.

  "Just like you did with the other five gates," Adam complained.

  "Then where are we?"

  "How the hell am I supposed to know? He said we were home over an hour ago and all I've seen is the cloud of dust we're throwing up from these damned dirt roads. Doesn't anybody out here believe in asphalt?"

  "Not much pavement where I come from, either." Lalo stretched his arms out in front of him and wished he could do the same with his legs. "Too much road, not enough money."

  "Yeah, well the Ice Dude is supposed to be loaded and I'm assuming this is all his land." Adam craned his neck to see what the two men were doing out at the gate. They'd been out there a long time and were now looking at the ground, not the gate.

  "How do you know he's loaded?"

  "Because when I got the offer, I called my parents and they checked him out. Old, old family with an excellent reputation. One sister living in Europe, no mate, no offspring. Mother dearest was heartbroken.”

  “Why?” Lalo asked and began searching for his water bottle. “Sounds pretty good to me.” He looked around. “Any more of those cheese and cracker things?”

  “You ate them all a hundred miles ago and I have a feeling that’s the last we’re going to see of junk food. Old Ice Dude is all about nutrition. Didn’t you see him cringe when you ordered the milkshake and apple pie? Discipline, young man, self-discipline,” Adam mimicked. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a candy bar. “You can have this, but if he asks, you bought it.”

  Lalo finished the candy bar in two bites. “Why?” he asked around a mouthful of caramel goodness.

  “Why, why, why? Because he already knows you’re a junk food junkie.” Adam lifted his chin, nose in the air. “I, on the other hand, ordered white milk and a salad with my burger and fries.”

  “Ass kisser.”

  “It’s my middle name,” Adam grinned.

  “You seen my water bottle?" Lalo rummaged around the debris at his feet and came up with the half empty container. "Never mind, found it. So why was Mom heartbroken?”

  “She was hoping there was a little Miss an Toussaint just waiting for me to sweep her off her feet.” Adam shook his head at Lalo’s quizzical look. “I know what you’re thinking. Why?" He rolled his eyes. "Because as soon as I got my lilies, my mother started making plans to mate me off to some nice, eligible Paenitentia girl, preferably an only child. And before you ask why, by eligible she means wealthy.”

  “Why?” Lalo asked and Adam groaned. “Your family is already rich.”

  “Life lesson, kid. The rich are like everybody else, never rich enough. Besides, my family is what's known as comfortably well off, not rich. Now shut up. They’re coming back.”

  “I don’t like this, Álvaro. Not at all. That’s the second gate that’s been tampered with.” Lucien said as he climbed into his seat. “Go! Go!”

  Álvaro stepped on the gas and Faith thought the van would fall apart as it flew over the ragged road. They dipped down and then up and she thought they went airborne. She was sure of it when all four wheels landed with a crash. The duffle bag was thrown to the side, her cushion of clothes left behind. Something landed on her head from above and the sharp corner of that something cracked into her temple. She tried to shove it off, not caring if she was discovered, but the best she could do was wedge her hand between her forehead and whatever was trying to put a dent in it.

  Fortunately, their high speed ride didn’t last long and with the next jarring pothole, whatever was trying to pierce her head was shifted off. Álvaro slammed on the brakes and the van skid to a halt. Doors flew open. A woman cried out in a language Faith didn’t at first recognize, garbled as it was with tears and keening howls.

  “Álvaro! Take care of Vasco! You two, come with me,” Lucien shouted.

  "Patron!" A man's shout of protest.

  "They must earn their keep, Álvaro!" Lucien's shout receded as he moved away from the van. "I will be fine."

  Faith heard Álvaro murmuring to the woman in what she thought was Spanish. She heard a nearby vehicle engine start and heard the vehicle roar past the van, spewing gravel in its wake. Then there was nothing, no sound from nearby houses, no traffic to indicate a road, nothing but a softly blowing wind and her own frightened breath.

  Slowly, she unzipped the bag and peered out. There was nothing but star studded darkness. Extricating herself from the duffle, she squinted against the interior lights of the van, stretched her battered muscles and let herself quietly out of the van, closing the door softly behind her. There were no exterior lights on the building and the van's interior lights shining through the tinted windows offered little help. She waited impatiently for her eyes to readjust.

  When they did, she was confronted by a long, tile roofed building that looked like it might be made from adobe or some modern facsimile. There were no lights in the windows, but a faint golden glow outlined a door through which she assumed; Álvaro and the woman had entered.

  Cautiously, she crept forward expecting any moment for the door to be flung open to expose her as a stranger and possible intruder, which she was, but not in the way it would be interpreted. How would she explain? She didn't understand more than a dozen words of Spanish and they certainly wouldn't understand her bastardized version of sign. Álvaro already frightened her and she didn’t want to meet him without the protective presence of the Liege Lord.

  Something brushed her leg and her scream soundlessly echoed in her head intensifying the headache already there. It was the damn cat again! She hadn't seen it since it ran off at the motel. How it had gotten back into the van or out again for that matter was a mystery she would gladly con
template after her heart stopped beating like a big bass drum and her head stopped throbbing in time to its cadence.

  She picked the cat up and tucked it under her arm mouthing a few of the more colorful curses she'd learned since leaving her father's house. The cat purred loudly. It was Faith who hissed. "Shhh!" It was one of the few sounds she could make.

  The door had not been left ajar. Someone had kicked it in and it could no longer close. One hinge was bent and the jamb was broken. Faith listened for voices beyond the door, heard nothing and entered.

  She was in a long hall. Up ahead on the left, a light shined through a wide doorway and from its glow; she could see that another hallway branched off across from it. She crept closer and peeked into the room, a kitchen, with pots and pans hanging from a rack overhead and a big gas stove in the center of one wall. It wasn't as new and modern as Grace's kitchen, but there was something comforting about the long wooden table, worn and scarred by years of use. There were more cupboards than counter space. Like the table, some were worn with use; the paint rubbed away along the edges and the corners of the doors with years of opening and closing from dozens of hands. Others were newer, no doubt added as the years went by, but nothing was from the current century.

  Electric lights hung from the ceiling, but the golden glow came from an old camp light in the center of the table. The electricity was out. That was why the house was dark.

  Faith was tempted to investigate the kitchen further, wondering what the closed doors housed or where they led, but the sound of voices talking quietly behind the one at the far end had her scurrying down the hallway and ducking into the first room she found with an open door. The voices were getting closer.

  She slipped behind the door and winced when her elbow hit a shelf filled with glassware. Nothing fell, but the tinkling rattle was enough to alert the two in the hall. Abandoning her furry companion when it dug its claws into her arm, Faith exited the small room filled with dishes and glasses through another door and found herself in a dining room that made the one in Canaan’s House seem small in comparison.