The Guardians: An Urban Fantasy Romance (2 page)

“I ain’t fightin’ in no dress,” Micah retorted as he tossed the robe aside. He wore his customary tank top and jeans underneath, his dirty blond curls mussed from the hood. But his eyes glittered with a feral sort of excitement as he drew a pair of large and curved golden knives from his belt.

He’d once asked why Micah preferred knives, wondering why someone would want to have to get up close and personal with a demon in order to kill it. Micah had grinned and slapped him on the shoulder, telling him that’s why he’d chosen it.

“So, you wanna do your thing and clear the room?” Micah added, shooting a glance his way.

He sighed. “You always get to do the fun stuff.”

“Are you kiddin’? You have a beautiful voice,
podna
!”

Adramelech roared, sending a fan of flames screaming over their heads.

Jack and Micah exchanged glances and shrugged, before turning back to back. Jack took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as the familiar warmth gathered in his throat. The first time it had happened, the vibrations of his vocal chords had scared him, and the heat had been intense. Now, he knew the high temperature represented the perfect gauge for measuring the force of his power.

At the same time that Micah lunged forward, locking in a grappling move with the demon, Jack let loose with a bellow that sent all of Adramelech’s worshippers sprawling to the ground and across the room, clearing a perfect path for them.

Micah’s arms tensed, the blue veins beneath his skin bulging as he dropped to one knee, buckling under the weight of the massive thing bearing down on him. Even so, his superhuman strength saved him—any other man would have been ground into dust by now.

With a swift motion, Jack retrieved his gun and took aim, letting loose with a rapid, white-hot blast.

Quick as lightning, Adramelech threw something toward Jack like a harpoon. It deflected the light and staked into the dirt where Jack had just been standing. If he hadn’t dived to get out of the way, it would have impaled him.

He leaped to his feet, eyes widening as he identified the weapon as one of the demon’s peacock feathers. The tip of it looked razor-sharp and would have hooked him like a fish if the demon had had his way.

Adramelech laughed, more sulfuric-smelling smoke and a few flames licking from his mouth and nostrils. The sound grated like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the screeching of faulty brakes. Flinging Micah aside, the beast then ambled toward Jack, now left with no choice but to run.

He dashed for the door, careful to keep a tight grip on his gun. Another one of the peacock barbs shot over his head, embedding in the wall in front of him. He kept moving, rounding the first curve in the staircase as the thing kept coming toward him.

He whirled and tossed another beam of voice waves over his shoulder, pumping his fist in the air as the bellow’s vibration knocked the thing’s feet—or hooves?—from under him. Micah dove on it in an instant, jumping onto its shoulders as it struggled to stand. Roaring, the demon flailed and swatted, trying to dislodge Micah, who held his knives high, ready to strike.

Jack took the opportunity to aim at the demon’s exposed torso, but just when he’d squeezed off a shot, the demon dislodged Micah and sent him falling to the stairs below, sprawling at Jack’s feet. Adramelech deflected the beam of light with another well-thrown bronze barb.

“This guy’s really startin’ to piss me off,” Micah growled as Jack helped him to his feet. Shrugging off Jack’s hold, he charged the creature again, snarling in response to the demon’s roar. The creature lunged, as well, and his body weight won out, sending him and Micah both tumbling down the stairs, just missing Jack—who pressed his body against the wall to avoid going down with them.

Jack ran down the curving staircase behind them as the two continued rolling, trading blows all the way. Micah grunted as he took a fist to the jaw—his superhuman strength also meant he could take a punch better than anyone Jack knew. The demon screeched when Micah returned the blow, driving an elbow into the side of its face.

They neared the opening now, which would lead them out into the alley. The behemoth would never fit through the narrow gap. They could trap it and get rid of the thing once and for all.

Sure enough, a well-timed kick from Micah sent the demon into the alley, where it soon became lodged between the narrow walls of the two buildings. The cacophony of music and laughter coming from Bourbon Street buried the noise as Adramelech struggled, clawing at the walls and screaming his anger and frustration with a huff of fire and smoke.

Before Jack could draw his gun, Micah came barreling through the door, driving his shoulder into Adramelech in a move worthy of a linebacker. Pressing him against the wall, Micah drew one of his knives.

“You came, you saw … but you ain’t conquerin’ anything, you demon piece of shit!”

He drove his knife between Adramelech’s ribs, causing a burst of light to flash at the contact point, before the demon disappeared … but not before he’d made a mess. His bronze form shattered, sending bits of metal whizzing in every direction as his spirit evacuated the vessel, blowing a humongous hole into the wall of the building across from the one they’d just run from.

Jack fell to his knees to avoid flying debris, but wasn’t so fortunate. He yelped in pain as a piece of shrapnel from the statue embedded in his shoulder, and kept his head down until the last of the metal and brick fragments fell. Lifting his head, he found that Micah had been thrown through the wall of the building next door.

He stood, stepping over the wreckage Adramelech had left in its wake, and dashed through the opening in the brick. The blast had thrown Micah through another wall and straight into the front room of Saints and Sinners.

He breathed a sigh of relief upon finding him safe—on his ass in a red vinyl chair, of all places. The chair sat just within the main entrance of Saints and Sinners, which meant everyone dining or sitting at the bar downstairs had had a front row seat for Micah’s little entrance.

Giving all the shocked onlookers a reassuring smile, Jack quickly tucked the gun back into its place at his back. “Sorry about that folks,” he said, injecting his voice with a sense of calm. “Filming a scene for a movie in the building next door and things got a little … out of hand.”

The predictable Bourbon Street response ensued. Instead of brushing him off, being afraid, or running off to investigate the source of just what had sent Micah propelling through two walls, the patrons let out a cheer and threw their hands up in the air. A blonde woman, wearing skimpy shorts and a too-tight tank top that read ‘Saints and Sinners’ across her massive implants, pulled a lever to tilt Micah’s chair back. Tipping a bottle of fireball whiskey over him, she poured a liberal amount into his open mouth, causing even more of those crowding around the bar to give a raucous cheer.

Swallowing, Micah bounded to his feet, standing in the chair. With a few streams of the whiskey dribbling down his chin and wetting the front of his tank top, he whooped and pulled the blonde up into the chair with him, before kissing her full on the mouth.

“Yeah!” he boomed, still holding his shot girl by the waist as he pumped one fist in the air. “I just kicked some demon ass, and now I’m gonna get shit-faced!”

More cheers greeted him, and Micah came off the chair and headed to the bar, the blonde in tow.

Shaking his head, Jack ignored the crowd gathering around his charismatic partner and reached into his pocket for his cell phone, glad it had survived the scuffle, unlike his last two phones which had been shattered during demon fights. Dialing one of the only five contacts he kept in his log, he inched toward the entrance, pressing one finger to his opposite ear to drown out the noise.

“Jack,” said the deep, smooth voice of Reniel from the other end. “Is it done?”

“It’s done. But, uh, you might want to get down here.”

“Micah exposed you with a public display again, didn’t he?”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“I’ll be there in five.”

The line went dead and he slid the phone back into his pocket. Five minutes would be long enough for a beer—he took a seat at the bar and signaled one of the half-dressed female bartenders.

Bourbon Street … even a demon attack couldn’t kill its deep-seated weirdness. Jack took a deep pull on his beer and waited.

“Fifty-two.”

Reniel, angel of war, paced back and forth in the cramped apartment Jack shared with Micah. In his human form, he stood around six-foot-five and carried two-hundred-fifty-pounds of intimidating muscle. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, he was one of the prettiest men Jack had ever seen.

Just now, though, his chiseled features had fixed into a mask of annoyance.

“That’s how many memories I had to erase tonight after your little fiasco on Bourbon Street. That included the bartenders and wait staff at Saints and Sinners, as well as the people dining there. Two brick walls, which I had to rebuild, and—”

“Yeah, that was epic!” Micah quipped from his place in the corner. Seated sideways in a recliner with his legs dangling over one of the arms, he wore an old cowboy hat low over his eyes and gulped from a mason jar with relish.

Jack wasn’t fooled by the clear liquid; it came from Micah’s moonshine stash. His partner’s uncle distilled the potent stuff himself.

“These missions are to be taken serious!” Reniel retorted, his voice low as he turned to spear Micah with a narrow glare. “It isn’t supposed to be fun or ‘epic’.”

Micah stood, his long, sturdy frame unfolding from the chair, almost a match for Reniel’s. The Louisiana native had a country boy’s bulky frame with the Cajun accent to match. One of his meaty fists curled, but he kept a tight grip on the mason jar with the other hand.

“Back off. We been at this for seven years now … havin’ a little fun is the one thing makin’ any of it bearable anymore.”

“You’re a Guardian,” Reniel insisted, reaching out to snatch the jar from Micah’s hand. “The only thing you’re entitled to is a legacy, which you are obligated to live up to.”

Micah grew serious—had he been exaggerating his drunkenness before now?

“Oh, I think I more than lived up to my end. You want the job done your way, you go ask someone else.”

It didn’t work that way, and Micah knew it as well as Jack did. The call of a Guardian was one of ancestry and tradition. Though, like all humans, they still possessed their free will. Once you decided to take up the mantle, however, there could be no taking it off without serious consequences.

Reniel softened at Micah’s reminder that he’d sacrificed more than most for the cause of Heaven; he backed down, but still kept a tight grip on Micah’s moonshine.

“There’s another assignment.” He changed the subject. “This one … well, it’s probably going to be the most important task you’ll ever carry out as a Guardian.”

Jack perked up at that. “Eligos?”

Just speaking the name of the Great Duke of Hell sent a shiver down his spine. Eligos— the reason Micah and Jack spent most of their days cleaning demon scum off the streets. That scumbag and his sorcerers had found a way to open unauthorized portals between Hell and Earth using black magic, and now, all the big baddies were coming through and causing all sorts of trouble. Adramelech hadn’t been a minor demon, but he still didn’t come close to the big ten, the ones who, in the end, had to be hunted down and destroyed, so that the ten portals they’d opened could be demolished along with them.

It had all sounded so simple at first, and Jack could remember being a bit flippant about the mission in the beginning. Michael—the Archangel, himself—had sent Reniel to Earth to gather an elite group of Guardians. The best of the best, with the longest and strongest lineages. As a cocky eighteen-year old, Jack had been looking forward to fighting demons like the hero he’d always thought his father to be. Yet, the more time passed, the less true that became for him.

“Sorry,
podna
,” Micah slurred as he stumbled back toward his recliner. “Still workin’ on the last mission you gave us. You know … ten demons, ten scrolls … close the portals … all that.”

“Think of this as a mission within a mission. And no, it isn’t Eligos,” Reniel added, turning to Jack. “Not one of you is ready to face him.”

His jaw clenching in annoyance, Jack squared his shoulders. “Another seven years, then?” he spat.

Like Micah, he’d grown sick of the runaround, tired of trying to understand why this mission seemed to be one ongoing cluster fuck. Hunt demons, dispatch demons to Hell; rinse, repeat.

Reniel sighed, running a hand through his golden locks. “Listen, I know it has been a rough time for you all, but you’ve performed well. Despite a few hiccups—” he shot Micah a pointed glance, “—you have more than lived up to Father’s expectations. Long is the road, Jack.”

Jack sank onto the worn loveseat facing the ancient television set that had come with the little storefront apartment. “It would be nice to know what the endgame is here,” he sighed.

He caught his reflection in the T.V. as he ran a hand over his close-shaved head. A haggard face that looked much older than its twenty-five years. Dark, ebony skin; his father’s slate gray eyes; a prominent brow hooding the depths; lines of fatigue lining his mouth and eyes.

“Father has a plan,” Reniel insisted. “Even I do not know what it is, but I trust Him. I thought you did, too.”

“I do,” Jack said, only half lying. Over time, he’d become a bit cynical, despite being a servant of God and all. Hard to trust someone who didn’t seem inclined to share their secret plans with you—plans that ruled your life every minute of every day. “Okay, let’s have it. What’s this mission?”

“The mission isn’t a just a ‘what’.” Reniel joined him on the couch. “It is also a ‘who’.”

This caught Micah’s attention. Removing his hat, he sat up in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees.

“What do you know about the Seal of Solomon?” the angel asked, his gaze flitting from Jack to Micah and back again.

Jack frowned, trying to remember his religious legends. He’d learned a lot from his stepmother, who knew things about the spiritual world that no one else on Earth ever could. Before she’d been given the privilege of life on Earth as a human, Sarah had been a messenger angel. Falling in love with his father had been enough to make her want to trade in her wings, which Jack never could quite understand. Still, he’d been fortunate to have Sarah there to step in and help raise him when his own mother lost her battle to cancer when he was just seven years old.

“King Solomon possessed a ring that was said to give its wearer power over demons,” he recited as the memories of Sarah’s stories came rushing back to him. “Sarah used to tell me there are opposing views on the ring. Some believe it was real, and others think it’s only a pagan myth. She told me it did exist, and God did impart the power of dominion over demons onto it, as a gift to Solomon along with the gift of wisdom. When Solomon pissed God off by getting tangled up with the pagan gods of his wives, the power was taken from him.”

Reniel nodded. “It is true, the ring existed … still exists. Part of your assignment is retrieving the ring. It holds the power that the Guardians need to destroy the ten demons, their scrolls, and the portals.”

“Convenient,” Micah drawled, rolling his eyes. “Wanna clue us in on why Michael didn’t tell us about this magic ring before now?”

“Because, it wasn’t—”

“Part of the plan,” Jack finished for Reniel. “We get it. Why now? Why me and Micah? He’s a drunk who goes rogue on almost every mission, and I …”

Reniel considered him as he trailed off. “You’re what, Jackson?”

Tired. Angry. Bitter. Alone.

He didn’t give voice to any of his true feelings, but he knew Reniel could feel them all. Angels, programmed to be sympathetic, could perceive the emotions of the humans around them. It took a well-disciplined angel to contain all of that and channel it without letting it get the best of him. Reniel had proved one of the strongest, and Jack had met a lot of celestial beings over the years.

“I am willing to do what has to be done,” he finished, clearing his throat. “If Father chose us to find and bear the ring, then we’ll do it. Won’t we, Micah?”

“Oh, yeah,
podna
. But you mentioned somethin’ ’bout a ‘who’, Ren,” he said, turning to the angel. “Who are we talkin’ about here?”

“You two are not exactly responsible for wielding the ring.”

Jack frowned. “So the person you’re talking about is the wearer. We have to find the ring and get it to them.”

Reniel nodded. “Yes. Although, it might be best if you find her first, then take her to the ring. The members of the Order of the Seal of Solomon are going to want to speak with her and they’ll want proof that she’s the one.”

“I’m no
couyon
, Ren,” Micah declared. “I know what you’re gettin’ at here. It’s not a ‘who’ we’re after, but a ‘what’. A Naphil, I’m thinkin’.”

It made sense. Those with the mixed blood of human and either angel or demon possessed special gifts.

“Yes, Father has commanded that the ring must be borne by a Naphil,” Reniel confirmed. “However, it cannot be just any Naphil. There is one, a young woman. Father has chosen her above all others.”

“All right, fine,” Jack said with a shrug. “Point us in the right direction. Who’s this girl and where do we find her?”

“Her name is Addison Monroe, and she lives right here in New Orleans. Finding her won’t be a problem. Convincing her you’re not insane will be.”

Micah frowned. “Girl don’ know she a Naphil?”

Reniel shook his head. “No, she is unaware of the battle that rages on between Heaven and Hell, or her place in it.”

Jack shook his head, downright flabbergasted. This was unprecedented. The Nephilim were some of the key players in this war that took place on the battleground of Earth. Both sides always wanted the Nephilim for their own, but they always had a choice to make. God didn’t mess with free will; Lucifer not allowed to, either. Even Nephilim with the blood of demons could choose to fight for the side of Heaven—after all, even the devil himself had once been an angel. The reverse proved true for Naphils born of angels. Because of so much competition for the allegiance of the Nephilim, the Guardians had been tasked with protecting them, guarding them, and keeping them away from the influence of either side until they made their choice.

“That’s impossible,” Jack said. “Isn’t it?”

Reniel sighed. “It’s kind of a long story, and it’s complicated. The first thing you need to know is that she’s the daughter of Eligos …”