Guardian's Hope (39 page)

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Authors: Jacqueline Rhoades

Tags: #vampires, #paranormal, #love story, #supernatural, #witches, #vampire romance, #pnr, #roamance

BOOK: Guardian's Hope
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Nico!
” Hope sent the word out along
the bridge with everything she felt. “
Can you hear me, love? We
need you!
” She sent him an image of the empty room, of Smith
and the demon, Gor.

She almost thought he was here when she heard
movement in the hall. She almost called his name aloud, and then
she realized it couldn’t be him. Nico would have answered her call.
She felt Grace tense beside her, caught a flash of Gor in her
mind.

The long, scaly arm rose above Smith’s head
and came slashing down just as Smith felt the presence behind him.
Sharp talons slashed through his back tearing flesh and sinew to
the bone beneath. The women leapt to their feet as Smith screamed,
spun away and fired point blank. The first shot tore into the door
frame, sending splinters flying. The second, third and fourth hit
demon and his body jerked spasmodically with each bullet’s impact.
The screwdriver, held awkwardly in the demons other hand, fell to
the floor as the demon lunged at Smith, who never got the fifth
shot off. He screamed again as the gaping maw of the beast closed
over his arm. One more slash of the demon’s claw severed the artery
in the human’s neck and Smith was no more. It was all over in less
than thirty seconds. Gor eyed the women and licked his lips.

*****

Canaan and Nico had prowled the house for
hours, snapping at everyone that stepped in their path. They had
finally settled in the new gym where, under the guise of working
out, they took out their frustrations on each other or anyone else
unlucky enough to pass through. By late afternoon, the twins
refused to relay the regularly timed messages from Manon.

“You’d think they’d be happy to see us. I
mean we’re bringing good tidings and all that shit, right? Gracie
and Hope are okay. They’re supposed to be all thank you, thank you
we’re so relieved, but no-o-o-o. It’s thank you, now come here and
let us kick the crap out of you.”

Otto had no sympathy. “They need to release
the tension, to control the rage, Dov, and they’re not using you as
a punching bag. I watched them put you through the paces. You’re
not hurt and it’s good training. Quit whining and pay attention.
You might learn something.”

“Already did. Stay away from any chick who
really rings my bells, ‘cause this love shit sucks. Turns strong
men into stronger lunatics. And what’s with Nico? He’s not even
branded.”

Branded was a term used by the unmated to
describe the appearance of the small rose set among the lilies on a
male’s chest once he was mated. The white rose turned red if the
mated became bound or disappeared if the mating was terminated.

“First, you don’t know what he carries over
his heart. You’ve never seen his skull and tears. Second, branding,
as you call it, marks your heart long before it marks your
chest.”

“Yeah well, me and Col are never going to
know. We’re taking the pledge. No roses of any color for us. Nardo
and the Professor are right there with us.”

“So said Canaan and Nico,” Uncle Otto
laughed, “So said we all.”

Buffy leapt to his lap and rubbed her head
against his chest as he waited for Manon’s next call.

In the gym, Nico froze mid-kick. “Hope’s in
trouble,” he choked out the words and then fell to his knees and
threw back his head. His roar reverberated off the walls of the gym
and sent chills down each Guardian’s spine.

The phone rang and Otto pressed the button to
receive Manon’s latest report. His face paled.

“Dov, get the men. We leave now.” He was
already rising and heading for the door. “Manon heard shots. The
fool woman is going in to help.”

*****

“You can’t go in there! Let me call the
police!”

It wasn’t the first time Joseph cried the
words. They were talking about his kids when they heard the first
shot and Manon had the button pressed on the phone as the others
rang out. They weren’t loud, but it was gunfire for sure. He’d
heard it before while driving the city streets at night.

Manon had said into the phone, “Shots fired.
I’m going in. The girls need my help,” and hung up.

He didn’t know why she’d want to help the
girls who were messing with her man, but she was out of the car and
running before he could stop her. He should have called 911. He
should have stayed in the car. He should have minded his own
business. He didn’t do any of the things he should have. He got out
of the car and ran after Manon. The only clear thought that he had
was that he was glad he told his wife he loved her before he’d gone
out on this run.

*****

The two women were on their feet with their
backs against the wall. The stripe of protective sunlight had
disappeared and clouding skies added to the gloom of the unlit
room. Gor seemed to have trouble moving, but he wasn’t going down.
Blood seeped from the wounds inflicted by the bullets yet the chest
wound from the screwdriver showed no fresh blood. His tongue hung
slavering from his bloodied jaws and his eyes were fixed and
staring. He took a single step toward them, stopped and steadied
himself before taking another.

Hope didn’t realize her fingers were weaving
the pattern until the screwdriver skidded across the floor and flew
into her hand. Without thinking, she threw her hand out and sent
the driver skimming through the air. Her aim was off and the tool
slammed into the center of the demon’s throat instead of its chest.
It gurgled as the blood welled in its throat and it pawed at the
protruding handle, but it couldn’t seem to grasp it. It took one
more step toward them and fell to its knees. Then slowly, so
slowly, it lowered itself face down on the floor.

When Hope called the screwdriver to her,
Grace dove for the gun. She held it now, aimed at the demon’s head.
They heard the front door crash open and footsteps on the stairs,
too light for the heavy boots of the Guardians. Grace widened her
stance and holding the gun in two hands, redirected her aim toward
the door.

“Joseph, hold my hand. I am afraid of what we
will find.”

They heard the whisper and stared at each
other, each wondering if the other was hallucinating, too.
Manon?

“Ah, merci, mon Dieu.” Manon stood in the
doorway with her free hand on her heart. The stranger who held her
other hand swallowed hard as his eyes passed over the mauled body
of Smith and remained glued on Gor.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Do you know what that thing
is?”

Manon patted his hand as if he was a child
staring at a dead kitten. “It is a demon, Joseph, something few men
have seen and fewer still have lived to remember. You have been
very brave, my friend, and I must ask you to be brave a little
longer. Grace, take Joseph down to the kitchen, and find me a
knife, or an ax, anything that will take its head.” She spoke like
she was asking for sugar and salt. “We must finish it before it
rises again. Hope will stay here with me. In case.”

Grace didn’t question. She circled the body
cautiously, stepped over Smith and grabbed Joseph’s hand.

“Come on, I’m going to need your help.”

He followed her looking green and dazed.

Manon looked at Hope. “We need to take the
head or the heart in order to kill it. I will go to the bath for
something to cover myself.” She shook her head and tut-tutted at
Hope’s blood spattered clothes. “If he moves,” she calmly reached
over and yanked the bloody screwdriver unceremoniously from Gor’s
neck and passed it to Hope, “Hit it again.”

It was over in minutes once Grace returned
with a shovel and Manon was securely wrapped in the shower curtain.
Waiting out of sight in the hall, both Hope and Grace winced and
poor Joseph gagged at the sound of the shovel crunching through the
creature’s neck. Manon stepped out, free of her plastic covering
and seemingly unperturbed by the fact that she had just beheaded a
demon that was turning to dust as she spoke.

“I shall need a new pair of shoes,” she said,
inspecting the small spatters of grey on her navy blue pumps. “Now,
as disappointing as this may be, we must go home. Your source for
finding this Damon has, as they say, dried up.”

“Damon?” Joseph croaked. He was still trying
to keep his stomach contents down where they belonged. “Tyn
Damon?”
“You know him?”

“Oh no ma’am, and I don’t think I want to and
you ladies shouldn’t either.” He looked guiltily at Manon. “I can’t
afford to pick and choose who I drive. I need the money. So I got
this regular gig picking up a few, ah,” he searched for an
inoffensive term, “Party girls? Their boss runs a pretty clean
shop, if you know what I mean. The girls seem pretty nice and they
talk, you know? They say their boss is partnered with this guy and
he’s really, really no good. He runs a few girls in his own house
and these girls claim there’s some pretty nasty stuff going on over
there. It’s just a few blocks over. They pointed it out once as we
drove by. They say their boss is sorry she ever made the deal, but
it’s too late to get out, if you get my drift.”

“And this evil man is Tyn Damon?”

“Yes, ma’am, or so they say.”

Manon took his face in her hands and kissed
him on the lips. “You, my wonderful new friend, shall have a new
car for this, if what you say is true.”

“I only know what they told me,” he said,
bewildered. He looked at Hope and Grace. “I guess this isn’t about
a cheating husband, is it?”

“No, my friend, it is about evil and saving a
young woman’s life. Will you drive us to this place?”

All his adult life, Joseph had worked hard
and tried to do the right thing. He still wasn’t sure what was
going on or if that thing upstairs really was a demon, but whatever
it was, it wasn’t right. This Manon was a good woman and her
friends looked pretty straight up, too. If they needed his help, he
wasn’t about to say no.

“Come on,” he said, leading the way to the
car. “It’s not that far, maybe ten, fifteen minutes if we
hurry.”

*****

They took the bikes. Canaan took Nardo with
him on the old Ducati. Broadbent’s long legs encased Dov on the
smaller red Shadow Sprit. Col followed on his matching Spirit in
pearl black and Nico took up the rear on his Harley. Leathers and
full black helmets protected them from the last of the sun’s rays.
Uncle Otto would meet them there with the car.

They sped through the streets, weaving in and
out of traffic and avoiding red lights through alleys and side
streets. They cut travel time in half, parked the bikes on the
sidewalk and charged into the house, tossing helmets aside as they
ran up the walk, only to find the building empty.

A quick search of the house proved that the
women were gone. Smith’s body as well as the pile of dust and rags
that was all that remained of the demon, gave evidence of what had
happened, but no clue to the whereabouts or condition of the
women.

Nico roared out his anger and threw his fist
into the wall. His body bulged with pent up rage, his eyes glowed
golden and his fangs flared.


Hope! Where are you, goddammit?


Nico? Don’t be angry. We’re here. I think
we’ve found her. Oh!

Like someone cutting the cord, the connection
went dead.


Hope!

He drove his fist through the wall a second
time.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 41

Joseph had never seen anything like it. He
wasn’t sure that he’d seen it at all. When they drove up to the
house, Manon directed him to stop the car few houses down. The
women got out and Manon told him to go home. His job was done.
She’d handed him a wad of cash that had to hold a couple of
thousand, blew him a kiss, waved her hand and disappeared with the
dark haired woman. Literally disappeared, leaving the red head
standing alone on the sidewalk.

He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he
couldn’t leave them. Invisible or not, that place wasn’t somewhere
decent women should be and besides, he’d been drawn into this
sci-fi nightmare and needed to see it end. Even if it was just to
reassure himself he hadn’t lost his mind. Who would believe
this?

He parked the car one block up, took off his
cap, jacket and tie so he wouldn’t be so conspicuous and stood
beside the car. He saw the red head, Hope, knock on the door and
use her hands to push someone inside. No sign of Manon or the other
one, Grace.

He waited a few minutes, not sure what to do.
The smart thing would be to get back in the car, drive home and
hold his wife and children close. But Manon had said they were
saving a young woman’s life. If his Emily was in danger would he
want someone to shrug and walk away?

He walked past the house. It was a big place,
a little run down, running deep into the lot, the kind of place he
and his wife dreamed of owning one day. There was even a third
floor with a peaked roof over tiny windows at each side of the
house. That attic would make a great place to play for his three
kids. Instead, it was owned by some sleazebag running a whorehouse.
It looked like a decent neighborhood, too. Someone had even run a
fire escape from that side window, though it looked so rusted it’d
probably break with the first step. Still, his Emily would love
this house and he was pretty handy with a hammer and a paint brush.
It didn’t seem right that a creep should get a place like this
while he and Emily scrimped and saved to get out of their two
bedroom apartment.

He stopped on the sidewalk and looked at the
phone Manon had left in the car. He wondered for only a moment what
Emily would think of what he was doing here before dialing, not
911, but 3, the speed dial Manon had used to report to someone
named Moncore.

*****

When Otto got the call, he was in the car
following the others to Smith’s. His vampire state had aged and
weakened him to the point where fighting demons was no longer
possible, but Canaan had found a use for him as back-up. In this
case, the car was slower transport since the motorcycles could
maneuver through traffic with greater speed. However, they were
useless for transporting the injured or in this case, a group of
women out of harm’s way.

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