Guardian's Joy #3 Read online

  “Here’s the weird thing. I think she was more shook up about me than she was the demon, like she knew about them. And it gets weirder. While I fought, I kept catching glimpses of her from the corner of my eye. She was watching every move, but not like an innocent. She wasn’t terrified. She was watching like someone waiting for an opening, waiting to take a shot and then I think she took it. My back was turned to her and suddenly, that demon lit up like a friggin’ Christmas tree. Dov and Col showed up, I took its heart and Joy was gone.”

  Chapter 7

  JJ thought about making a list of the things she’d done, so she wouldn’t do them again and another list of things she needed to do, if she could only remember what those things were. It didn’t really matter anyway because she couldn’t hold a pen. Hell, she couldn’t hold a fucking sandwich. She was afraid to heat up any more soup after she burned the bottom out of a pot. She’d fallen asleep while the stuff bubbled away on the stove.

  She resorted to eating anything she could pour, two handed, from the package, which was okay since she wasn’t particularly hungry. It was the thirst that was driving her up the wall.

  The house felt cold, but the thermostat said 750 and with all the pills she was taking, she couldn’t have a fever. She might feel better if she could shower, but that was out of the question. Even if she could bag her hands, how was she going to wash? The light from the television gave her a headache and when she tried to read, the words would blur. Great time to learn she needed glasses.

  There was nothing to do about any of it except sleep it off and try again later. She took more pills, two of each color, and settled back on the sofa. Her neck was stiff, probably from sleeping with it at an odd angle, but it took too much effort to climb the stairs to her bed. It would all be better in the morning.

  The cat paced back and forth in front of the sofa, mewing and hissing in anger.

  “Sorry kitty, I promise I’ll let you out next time.”

  *****

  Canaan had been listening to Nardo’s self-recrimination since they got out of the car and he was tired of hearing about it.

  “Nardo, I’ll say this one more time. This wasn’t neglect of duty. You couldn’t have prevented that girl’s death and you had every reason to chase that woman down. If you think about it, you were closer to the truth than the rest of us would have been. You knew right off it wasn’t a demon kill. Now that’s the last word I’m going to say about it. We’re done with it. Move on. That’s an order.”

  Canaan turned to follow a small group of women who’d just emerged from the theater. One of them looked back, wide eyed and frightened, and hurried the others along. He kept his hand gestures large, not for emphasis or Nardo’s benefit, but to put the women at ease. Bad guys wouldn’t draw such attention to themselves.

  “What I need from you is some kind of roster… data base? Is that the word I want? I need names, addresses and/or phone numbers of the members in the area that we know of outside of the Sanctuary. It’s something that should have been done years ago.”

  “I have one started,” Nardo interjected, “I’m building an email list of Independents for contacts and business and for us to keep in touch should the need arise. Do you want me to put the word out?”

  “That many members have email?”

  Nardo laughed for the first time in days. “It’s a whole new world out there, my lord. Do you know how many of us earn our livelihood on the net? Your sister does all her research from home. Writers, researchers, engineers, web masters, small businesses, and a whole bunch of other stuff all done at night from the safety of their own homes. They teach it in all our schools now. For the Paenitentia, it’s a revolution. We won’t be so dependent on the Council anymore, at least not in its current form. Computers and the internet mean freedom from the sun and for the folks outside of places like Moonlight Sanctuary it’s a way to connect.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for the Guardians, son. No more Council, no more us,” Canaan said with a touch of sadness.

  “As long as there are Paenitentia, there’ll be a need for Guardians, my lord. Our world is changing, but the demons are still there. As long as the Otherworld exists and they can find a way from their world to ours, there’ll be a need for the skull and tears.”

  Canaan smiled at Nardo’s zeal. The younger Guardian was a poster child for the future of the corps; completely at ease in this technological world, yet retaining the sense of honor, duty and tradition that was essential to their calling.

  The women they followed separated into two groups and said their good-byes as each group stopped to enter cars that were parked a few spaces apart. One lone woman continued walking as the two cars pulled away.

  Canaan huffed. “There’s always one. You’d think the others would drive her to her car or at least watch her until she was safe. But no, there’s always one that goes her own way, thinking nothing can happen.”

  “It’s women, my lord. No sense. Where are their men?”

  Canaan laughed. “Don’t let Grace hear you say that. She’ll rip you a new one. It’s a whole new world out there, son,” he said, throwing the younger Guardian’s words back.

  They followed the woman from a good distance behind until she found her car and drove off.

  “There’s a diner a block up. Coffee and pie?”

  “Sounds good to me, my lord.”

  Canaan gave a little snarl and then laughed. “I don’t get you, son. Your head is in the modern world, but another part of you got left in the fifteenth century.”

  “It was my grandfather, sir. Retired Guardian. He drilled it into me when I was young. My parents didn’t like it much, but they were busy with other things and his babysitting was free.”

  After the waitress set their pie and coffee down with a smile and a wink at Nardo, Canaan snorted another laugh and nodded at Nardo’s ice cream.

  “She gave you two scoops.”

  “You’re scary. I’m harmless.”

  “If I’m so scary, shouldn’t she be giving me the extra ice cream? Wouldn’t she want to make friends?”

  “Doesn’t work that way. She gives me the ice cream hoping I’ll keep you on your leash.”

  “I’ll never understand women.” Canaan carefully cut a small forkful of pie and added a dab of ice cream. “It was easier in the old days. They did what they were told and left the rest to us.”

  Now it was Nardo’s turn to laugh. “Don’t let Grace hear you say that.” Although he agreed with his Liege Lord, Canaan was blood bound to Grace and Nardo didn’t want to sound critical. “You wouldn’t be happy with a compliant woman.”

  “Oh, Grace is compliant in all the ways it matters.” The Liege Lord winked and took another bite of pie.

  A picture of the woman dressed in black leather flashed through Nardo’s mind. There was nothing soft or feminine or compliant looking about her and yet…

  Nardo polished off his pie. It was time to get home and to work.

  *****

  Hope eyed the sandwich and glass of milk. The sandwich was cut neatly in triangles with two pickle slices and an olive for garnish along with a handful of chips.

  “What do you two want?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Jeeze, Col,” Dov looked hurt, “We do something nice for the pretty lady and this is what we get for it. Not even a simple thank you.”

  She looked at the computer screen plastered with documents and the pile of papers beside it. She sighed.

  “Thank you,” she said with exaggerated politeness. “Now, what do you want? I really don’t have time to play your games. I’m sor…, no, I’m not sorry. I have bills to pay, orders to fill and a distributor that’s not fulfilling his contract. The logo is blurred on five thousand t-shirts and I’ll be up ‘til all hours of the morning because half the people we deal with are human. While I’m thrilled that Demon Destroyer is selling beyond our wildest dreams, it’s going to be the death of me. I’m in over my head.”

  Hope picked up the
sandwich, eyed it miserably, and set it back on the plate. She looked as if she might cry.

  “Sorry.” Dov looked genuinely concerned. “Can we help?”

  Hope smiled sadly. “No, and now I am sorry. It’s not your fault. Faith sleeps through the day now, but she’s also awake most of the night. She gets agitated, panicky when she’s left alone, but she becomes hysterical if I try to get her out of the room. Nico helps, Manon and Grace have been wonderful and Broadbent has been a godsend, but the responsibility is mine.” She straightened her shoulders and shook off the mood. “Shame on me for whining. I have my sister back and I should be grateful. What was it you wanted me to do?”

  “No, no. We can ask Grace. You’ve got enough on your plate,” Col said, feeling guilty for adding to her problems.

  Hope took a bite of sandwich and waved her hand. “It’s okay,” she said when she swallowed. “I guess I just needed to vent. You two have done a lot for me. What can I do for you?”

  “We can take some hours with Faith,” Dov offered. “I can play checkers with her.”

  “She can’t do that yet. She has to be told what to do.”

  “It’ll be like old times then. When we were kids and Col wouldn’t play with me, I used to play with myself.”

  Col snorted a laugh. “By yourself, dumb ass. With yourself is what you used to do in the bathroom when Mom wasn’t home.”

  “Shut up. You know what I meant. Besides, you used to do it, too.”

  “Boys!”

  “Sorry, Hope.”

  Hope raised her eyes to heaven. “What did you need? I really am very busy.”

  “It’s not for us. It’s for Nardo, but you’ve got enough to do and…”

  “What does he need?”

  “He needs to find that woman from the other night. He’s been trying to get fingerprints off that jacket, thinks he can run them through hijacked data bases and find out who she is. He has no idea what he’s doing. You can read about a lot of stuff on the internet, but it doesn’t mean you can do it.” Dov pointed to the remaining sandwich. “You gonna eat that?”

  Hope grabbed the plate. “Yes I’m going to eat that. You made it for me.” She popped a pickle into her mouth. “I don’t see how I can help. I don’t know anything about fingerprinting except what I’ve seen on television.”

  Col waved his hands. “We don’t want any help with that. We’ve got a better idea, but we need someone who can sound like a real professional on the phone. Like you do when you’re taking care of Destroyer business.” He told her what they wanted.

  “Have you talked to Nardo about this?”

  Dov looked at his twin and shrugged. “Nah, we tried and got flipped off for our efforts. You can’t talk to him about this. The guy’s obsessed.”

  Chapter 8

  JJ opened her eyes and the room began to spin. The coffee table loomed and receded. Her stomach rolled and shifted and she had to close her eyes to keep the nausea at bay. After breathing deeply and swallowing hard several times, she managed to shift her body slightly so she could lift herself up to a sitting position. Her stomach rolled and spasmed again and she fought the heaves that brought bitter bile into her throat. Pain flared at the base of her spine, shooting up through the muscles of her back, and she forgot her heaving stomach. She stiffened against the assault until it became a dull and bearable throb. She reached around to rub the spot. Her shirt felt sticky and stiff.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  There was a thought after that, but it faded away before she could fully grasp it and chasing the elusive thread through the fog of her mind took too much effort anyway. She took two pills from the saucer on the table and wondered vaguely about how they got there and was even more surprised to find the water jug empty when it slipped from her bandaged paws and fell to its side. She was pretty sure she’d just filled it, but maybe… That thought trailed away, too.

  She was hot and sticky and hurting and her mouth felt like a desert floor and she knew there was something she should do about that but it was all too much to think about right now. She’d take care of it later. She fell to her side along the edge of the sofa, missed the pillow and winced when her head thumped against the arm. The blow was mild, yet it set off a pounding in her skull.

  Sleep was what she needed; sleep and maybe dreams of a tall, sexy guy with strong hands that made her heart race and fangs that fascinated more than frightened. She smiled at the thought and felt her lips crack.

  She winced again when the weight of her hips and legs pulled her from the sofa and she fell heavily to the floor, but she didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t. Worry and fear flitted through her head and disappeared into the haze.

  It was all too much.

  *****

  Two nights passed before they could put their plan into action. It took Hope a few more phone calls than anticipated to piece together the bits of information she gathered, but it was worth the wait.

  “Okay, so what exactly is the mission here?” Col flipped through several stations until he found his current favorite. “It’s not like we can knock her over the head and drag her back to the House.”

  “Information. We got a name. We got an address. Now we find out who she is, what she does and who she’s doing.” Dov flipped on the blinker of the Escalade and took a right while Col shook his head and wrinkled his nose.

  “We’re not doing any Peeping Tom shit.”

  Dov put his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt. How could you even think it,” he asked innocently and then he laughed. “Actually, that was the plan, but if you’re going to get all morally righteous on me… Ah, forget it. We’re just going to check the place out to get some idea of where she works, where she goes and who she goes with. That way, we can arrange for Nardo to meet her.”

  “Well aren’t you Little Miss Matchmaker.”

  “Hell no. Nardo’s going ape-shit over this piece. You see how he is. The only cure for that is to boink her and get it out of his system. We’re doing this to keep our man from taking the fall.”

  “Taking the fall for what?”

  “Not for what, into what. Taking the fall into l-o-o-ove, bro.” He glanced over to make sure Col was paying attention. “We’ve already taken the pledge, no little roses decorating our lilies and Broadbent’s never going to get trapped. Who’d have him? The poor guy can’t even speak normal English. It’s always that hoity-toity poufy stuff. Now, Nardo is another story. He says that mating shit isn’t for him, but he’s in his late forties and that’s when the itch first strikes. I know. I’ve studied this shit so I can be prepared.”

  He eased the SUV into an open slot at the curb across the street and a few doors down from the darkened house.

  “Hah! The only thing you’ve ever studied is the food on your plate. Why should I care if Nardo bites the bullet? Didn’t hurt Canaan or Nico.”

  “You don’t see it, do you? Man, and people think I‘m the dumb one.”

  Dov reached into the paper bag at Col’s feet and pulled out two containers of coffee, passing one to his twin. He popped the little white tab and took two sips before continuing his explanation.

  “Hang up your coat. Put your boots away. Wipe up your mess when you wash your knives in my sink,” he mimicked. “Gracie moves in and now we can’t throw our stuff where we want to. Our giant, house sized man cave has been reduced to the little back room in the new section.” He pointed with his cup for emphasis. “Manon moves in with Otto and we’ve got flowers growing in the alley for cripe’s sake. She thinks our manners need polishing so we have to do the formal dinner shit once a month. Hope moves in and we have to clean up our acts even more. No rude gestures. No foul language. I’m telling you, Col, another female moves in and we’ll have fucking little lace hankies stuffed up our sleeves and ballet lessons every Wednesday.”

  He went back to rummaging in the bag and came up with two powdered donuts. He measured them against each other and passed the smaller one to his brother.

  “Th
anks.” Col took a generous bite and said around a mouthful of donut, “So you’re saying you don’t like wearing clean clothes and matching socks and you’d rather go back to eating pizza four nights a week instead of pot roast and pork chops.” He swallowed the lump of donut. “And I don’t know what’s so bad about Manon wanting to spruce up the neighborhood and dressing up once a month isn’t going to kill us. Grace goes all out on the food and you told me you liked those jackets and silk shirts Nico had his tailor make for us. And Hope’s coming along. Look what she’s done for the business and she’s not nearly as tight assed about bad language as she used to be and you know she’s right. Our vocabularies are pretty limited. I like the changes and I like the women. I thought you did, too.”

  “I do. I do. I love them and I wouldn’t get rid of any of them, but enough is enough. We need to keep things in balance here, man, or we’ll be overrun. This cure isn’t just for Nardo, it’s for us all.”

  “Not sure how you think sex’ll fix it.”

  “Look, I’ve been thinking a lot about this. The way I figure it, it wasn’t sex that snagged Canaan and Nico. It was no sex. It was the continuous hard-on they had for their women, like having an itch on your balls that you can’t scratch ‘cause you’re in a public place. It makes the itch so bad you can’t stop thinking about it and the next thing you know, your nuts are driving you nuts.”

  Col cocked his head and thought about it. “Never thought of it that way. You might be right.” He pulled out a deck of cards and began to shuffle keeping one eye on the still dark house. “Nardo seemed pretty sure she broke something. Maybe she’s staying with friends or family until she heals.”

  They played cards for an hour, talked, listened to the radio and finally sat in mind numbing boredom. No one arrived or departed and the house was still dark. Col finally lost patience.

  “Stay here. I’m going to look around.”

  He was back a few minutes later. “Car’s in the driveway, the kitchen looks like a bomb hit it and there’s a cat howling and scratching at the window.”