Veined (A Guardian of the Angels Novel) (8 page)

The wind pushed from behind, massaging my back, and my mind relaxed with it. It was only halfway up the hill I realized where I was heading. Foxtin was a small place, and there was only one lookout point. I briefly contemplated turning back, but the air felt so inviting, like it encouraged me to co
ntinue. It was almost a whisper. When I paused, it pushed me harder from behind.

I let it lure me to the top.

It was dark except for a sliver of moonlight and the speckled lights of the streets in the valley bellow. Three parked cars, separated by large and equal distances, crowned the bald lookout.

Allowing an extra perimeter of space, I passed behind the first car, its windows steamed up. The second car was empty, as far as I could tell without looking too hard, so it would’ve been safe to take the pedestrian zigzag path in front of it, down to the valley.

A heap of red and yellow leaves sidetracked me, twirling a few meters to my left, gracefully dancing toward the other end of the parking lot. I watched, fascinated, and hardly noticed I’d followed them until they stopped moving and I was only a few meters from the third car. 

I didn’t know what possessed me to do it, but I looked
inside.

The driver’s door was slightly ajar, making everything in the car light up. As clearly as if I’d been sitting across from him in the school cafeteria, I saw Attic. He sat in the passenger seat, leaning towards a blonde woman. She flicked out her tongue and ran it down his throat. He grabbed her hair, yanking it till her neck was exposed to him, then he leaned forward as if to whisper in her ear.

Shock poured down my throat like acid. So
that
was what had come up. He really didn’t care about me at all.

Attic’s head snapped up and he looked into the rearview mirror. Even in the dim light I could see the blueness of his eyes. They were staring straight into mine. I took a step back to disappear in the shadows, but I knew he could still see me. The mark on my back pulsed faster than my heart, and with every beat I felt a tremor of electricity course through my bones.

I continued to stare.
What a hell of a day
. So many questions, and being with a floozy was more of a priority? Tears streamed down my face. Before the coma, I hardly ever cried, and now . . . now I seemed to be making up for it.

I’d never moved more fluidly than I did just then, but I’d also never wanted to get away so badly before. The zigzag path, now only a couple of strides away, was my illuminated exit sign.

“Lark. Wait,” Attic shouted, and I slowed a fraction of a second at something in his tone. If I hadn’t been so upset, I would have stopped. But my anger spurred me on and I ignored him.

In the valley, I twisted and turned down streets that would distance me the most from the lookout. And when I was out of breath and my sides pricked with stitches, I forced myself to sprint a few hundred meters more. Finally, I crumpled onto a grassy verge and curled into a fetal position.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before I heard a voice. It was low, oddly excited, and I thought I detected an undercurrent of a growl. “You’re a pretty one.”

I scrambled to my feet. Across the street under the light of a lamppost was a man, not much older than thirty, heavily built with black leggings and a shirt showing his intimidating muscles. His mouth
curved into a smile that could have been beautiful if I hadn’t looked into his eyes. They were unmistakably hungry, and he ran his gaze up and down me as if I were the most delicious thing on the menu.

He clicked his fingers, making a snapping sound that echoed in the crisp air. Out of the shadows behind him, four similarly clad men emerged. My stomach lurched and I wished these men were just another hallucination. But they weren’t and I knew it.

The leader reached out, stopping one from stepping ahead of him. “She’s untrained, left here like bait.”

Bait? Untrained?

“A trap?” asked a man with thick eyebrows to his left.

“Maybe.” The leader cocked his head to the side, narrowing
his eyes at me. “Who’s with you?”

I knew I should have run away, done anything except for stand there, but my legs may as well have been tree trunks, the way they were rooted to the ground.

“Who’s with you?” The leader roared it this time.

I hoped someone in the street heard him and had a mind to call the police. My upper body started to shake. I bit my tongue and clenched my fists to control it. The last thing I would do was let them know I was frightened. In the steadiest voice I could manage
, I said, “Stay the hell away from me.”

“She has a temper.” Thick Eyebrows licked his lips and my gaze dropped to his hand caressing the hilt of a knife.

I swallowed.

“She’s frightened. I can smell it. I think she’s alone.” The leader took a step onto the street and the four behind him did the same. It reminded me of birds flying in a flock, only they were five huge men with weapons.

“You think we could play with her first? If she’s untrained we could have a lot of fun.” The man at the far back of the pack thrust his hips forward as he said it.

Laughter passed through them like a contagious cough. My stomach swirled and I wanted to be sick. I had to do something to get out of here, and fast. Flexing the muscles in my legs, preparing myself to run, I scanned the street using my peripheral vision.

Twenty meters back in the direction I’d come from was another street, larger than this one. If there were more cars on the road, and one of them stopped for me, maybe I could get away. But if I
wasn’t
quick enough, they’d tackle me within a few meters. I shuddered at what they’d do to me.

Like a track on loop, Dad’s lessons on self defense played in my head.
Poke the eyes, rip the corners of their mouth, kick them real hard in the balls. And run. Poke the eyes, rip the corners of their mouth
. . . But it’d make a squat load of difference against five men.

The leader moved into the middle of the street. He made a motion with his hands and the pack fanned until they all stood side by side.

It was now or never.

I charged onto the road toward them. Darted to my right, sprinting for all I was worth.
Just push faster. Outrun them.

A hand flickered to my left. It slapped my face so hard I tasted blood in my mouth.

I gulped in air to scream, but someone kicked me in the back, knocking the wind out of me. I spun round to face my attackers, readying my fingers to poke their eyes, but before I could do it, I felt a blow to my gut that sent me falling backwards.

My shoulder hit the street with a snap. I screamed in agony. The leader brandished a curved knife and smiled as he came closer. It was only going to get worse. Ignoring my shoulder, I scrambled backwards, trying to pick myself up.

“Triangles or squares?” The leader cut three lines in the air with his knife, followed by another four.

The memory of the torn body on Maple Street flashed in my head. The fear suddenly disappeared. Anger leaked into its pl
ace and I could taste its power. Another power was there too. Unfamiliar, but strong. I rolled backwards and sprung up to my feet. “You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to take me down.” I was so livid I could feel nothing else, not the pain of my broken collarbone, or the fear of the curved knife as it lunged toward me.

It missed by a long shot. And not just because I jumped out of the way.

A long blade burst out of his chest, and ripped him down the middle. He fell to the street, the smile wiped from his face. His skin looked like it was sagging or deflating. I gagged.

Shaken,
I rubbed my eyes and looked up to see blonde hair swishing as a woman drew out her blade. She ducked under a knife Thick Eyebrows threw toward her, and as she did I saw him. Attic, in the middle of the pack, fighting two men much larger than himself.

Attic? Fighting? What the
. . .?

Thrusty Hips grabbed my hair from behind, effortlessly lifting me off the ground. I cried out, every inch of my
scalp burning. It felt like the top of my head would rip off.

The next second Attic had me in one arm, lifting me so I couldn’t feel the pain. His other arm, from what I could tell, clutched Thrusty’s throat. I tried to help Attic by kicking my heel into Thrusty’s balls. This was the guy who wanted to rape me before killing me, and he deserved so much worse.

Attic flashed me a look and when he faced Thrusty again his face had paled, his jawline thick with tight muscles. His eyes had grown so icy, I felt cold looking at them. My hair dropped over my shoulders as Attic gently lowered me to the ground. “Are you all right?”

Mid-nod, my sight caught two daggers flying straight toward Attic’s back. Without a thought
, I shoved him to the ground. I trailed only a second after him, but even that made a difference. The first dagger whizzed past my left ear, but the second pierced my right shoulder.

Pain and rage bubbled so fiercely, I was sure it steamed through my skin. A rush of wind circled me. Two men got hold of the blonde by the neck and ankles.

Attic shouted.

My body heated up.

The ground rumbled like thunder.

Then everything went silent. No street noise. No wind. Not even a breath, and then right between my shoulder blades a knife sliced down my spine, splitting me open. I screamed, and lost consciousness.

CHAPTER 9

TAP. TAP. TAP.

If I hadn’t been trying to hear it, it would be indiscernible. But something told me I had to concentrate.

Tap, tap, tap. It grew stronger and faster, and I began to hear other things, too. A swishing in the distance, a whistling coming and going, but the tapping was nearest.

My body rocked. I felt as if I floated on water. Something warm tickled my cheek. A soft voice moved with the warmth. I forgot about everything else and listened. At first the words came at me in staccato:
Okay. Annoy again. Lovely.
But soon they ran more smoothly.
You’ll be all right, just hang in there. I promise it won’t be long now.
There was a sharp pressure against my wrist, but the pain was fleeting. Heat dribbled down my arm.

Then the warmth and the words came so close they mashed together and brushed lightly against my forehead. My wrist was pressed on something warm and pulsing. Pleasant and rich. Dark chocolate rich. The feeling pumped further and further into my body. A wavering image of a lady drifted into my head. She smiled and her red hair glowed like an angel’s. I gasped. I was looking at myself. I’d never seen myself like this before. I was
. . . beautiful. 

Tap-tap. Tap-tap. My senses sharpened. I recognized the pumping of my heart. But how was I still alive with my back split open?

I felt the vibration of laughter. Attic?

“Yes, that’s me.”

I must have said that out loud.

“Your back’s fine. You just used a little too much energy in one go and need to replenish. Can you open your eyes?”

I squeezed them tight before opening them. The first thing I saw was strands of hair, almost touching my forehead, and Attic’s smiling face behind them. My wrist still pumped dark chocolate. I tried to pull it over Attic’s shoulder to take a look.

“Leave it there a moment longer, Lark, you need it.”

“I must be better if you’re already back to calling me that.” The words came out a whisper.

I twitched my fingers slightly and gulped when I realized my hand lay on his bare skin. My breathing quickened and I hoped he wouldn’t notice. We were so close. I chanced a look into his eyes and wished I hadn’t. They were soft and tiny smile crinkles framed the corners. A wavering image of Attic kissing m
e floated in my mind. I blushed and turned away from his growing smirk.

Stop thinking about it.
This was hardly the situation to be thinking about my love life. I was attacked tonight. Nearly killed.

I glanced at the side of the street where the fight had taken place. Reliving the memory of it, I
felt sick. “What happened to the girl?” She’d saved my life, I hoped she made it. I didn’t even get to thank her.

“She’s fine. I sent her home.” The way he said it sounded like he was in charge of her or something. How did she feel being ordered around like that?

I took a deep breath and turned back to him. “Are you now going to explain what’s happening?”

Attic finally lifted my arm from over his shoulder. I gasped at the deep gash in my wrist. Seriously, what was going on here?

“It’ll heal in a minute or so.” Attic untangled himself and helped me to my feet.

My hand whipped to my collarbone. “Attic? Something more than bizarre is going on.” Silently, I added,
and it’s frightening me
. “I could’ve sworn I’d broken a bone or three.” I flapped my arms. “But I feel so . . . good.” Well, physically anyway.

Attic pushed me gently. “Let’s get back. I’ll explain everything.”

Neither of us said a word as we climbed back up the zigzagging path and clambered into the car. I shuddered at the thought of what had gone on in these front seats while I was running into an attack. Even though he’d helped me—
saved
me—I was still angry. He’d let me down, leaving the restaurant the way he had. I jammed the belt into the lock and leaned against the headrest.

Attic inserted the key into the ignition and paused, looking toward the valley. “What do you think happened to you earlier tonight, at the steakhouse?”

There was the flash of golden eyes.
It has begun.
“I think . . .” I said, frowning, “I had a hallucination that I . . . died.”

Attic spoke softly, his gaze falling to his gloves. “It wasn’t a hallucination.”

I knew I must have misheard him, but my hands shook anyway. “I’m sorry?”

Attic turned to me. H
e looked pained and uncomfortable, his face weary. “That wasn’t a hallucination. You Phoenixed. It was a memory.”

“Are- you- saying—”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. You died.” Attic tried to grab my hand but I didn’t want him to touch me. He sighed. “And were reborn. And today you’ve Phoenixed.”

This couldn’t be real. No. It had to be a joke. Or—I glanced down.
My wrists have healed.

Nausea swirled in my stomach.
Just breathe. Just breathe.
I lifted my feet onto the seat and hugged my legs. “How did it . . .? Why . . .? What the hell is this, Attic?” I meant to sound angry but it came out as I felt: tired. I rested my chin on my knees.

Attic shifted uneasily. “You’re special. You’ve been given the blood of an Angel.” He slid out of his leather jacket, pulled his T-shirt off and swiveled his back in my direction. I already knew what I’d see when I looked at his back. “You’re one of us. Veined. A Guardian.”

Two raised spirals interlocking in a circle glowed between his shoulder blades. My hand reached out, but I caught myself before touching it. “Veined?” So it wasn’t anything to do with the electro-magnetism? Did that mean I’d never really been in a coma, that in the hospital I’d been waking up from . . .from death? Big time shudder.

“This is a vein filled with Angel blood,” Attic said. “It gives us Guardians strength and power.”

Confused was a mild term to describe what was swirling around in my head right now. “So you’re some type of Guardian Angel?” Jeez, he must be irked he had me to look after.

“No.” Attic’s voice s
ounded amused, but it quickly turned serious. “I’m no Angel.”

Not going to protest there, the idea had boggled me to begin with.

“What we are,” he said, pulling down his shirt and facing me, “—what you are also, or soon will be—are Guardians
of
the Angels. We protect the gates of Eirene.”

I frowned. Eirene? “I don’t even know what that is, and now it’s suddenly my job to protect it?”

“Eirene is what you might call Nirvana. Or Heaven.” Attic said the two terms bluntly, condescendingly. “We use the term Eirene because it doesn’t have the connotations that Heaven does.” Attic’s brows were drawn together as he gazed out of the car. “Usually when someone is graced with Angel blood it takes years for it to work its way into the body, to attach itself to every fiber. Once that happens, a Guardian will relive a memory and the first step of the process is complete.”

I jumped at his matter-of-fact intonation. “When you say a memory, do you mean
any
memory? It doesn’t have to be how they died?” Well, wasn’t
I
lucky.

“Lark,” he said, focusing on me now, “when Guardians Phoenix, they relive their most humane moment. It’s the Angel blood working in your mind, it entwines itself with your soul to help define what type of Guardian you’ll become. You must have died very worthily for that to be what you relived. I’m sorry it causes you grief, but most Guardians are proud of their Phoenix memory. It’s who they are. They wear it like a badge of honor.”

The most honorable moment of my previous life was that I—
gulp
—died? What did that say about who I was—who I am?

The roof of my mouth was dry and my tongue clicked against it as I swallowed. Too much to think about. I focused on another of my five hundred questions. “At the restaurant you said it’s never happened so soon before. Were you talking about me having
. . . Phoenixed?”

Attic stared at me as if he were looking at, well, an angel. “It took me eight years before I Phoenixed,” he said, “and even that was considered a fast transition. You, on the other hand, have done it in a matter of weeks. Do you know what that means?” I knew he would answer the question himself, since I had no idea about any of this. I leaned back against the headrest again and waited. “It means a
very
powerful angel infused you with their blood. That makes you very special. And probably more powerful than most.”

I almost laughed. “If that’s the case, why couldn’t I defend myself down there?”

“Because you haven’t been trained. You have to learn how to use your power and you have to encourage your strength. That also takes years—well, normally.” There was tenseness about Attic’s posture that hinted he was hiding something from me.

“How did you know about those men down there?”

He winced at the mention of them, glancing at my hair. “They weren’t men.”

I shivered, but didn’t doubt his words. There had been something about them that had been off: too tall, too swift, too strong. I wanted to ask what they were, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. “You said Guardians protect the gates of Eirene. What does that mean, ‘protect’?”

Attic twisted the keys in the ignition and the car jumped to life. “Albelin will explain it.”

He backed up and pressed down on the accelerator. The car squealed on the concrete as we took off.

“I need to know, Attic. Surely you can’t expect me to just go to sleep and—” I’d just registered who he was taking me to. “
Albelin
?”

He shifted gears. “Yes, I’m taking you to him right now.”

Things slowly clicked into place. Albelin was a Guardian, too. He’d been my doctor for a reason. “That’s why he told me I had to have you as a buddy?”

Attic raised one brow. “So I’m your buddy, huh?”

I scowled. “Not in the literal sense. I meant my transition help.” He chuckled and I smiled, too. “Won’t Albelin be pissed at us for waking him up in the middle of the night?”
Not to mention so will my parents if they catch that I’m missing.

Attic laughed and it rumbled through the seat. “Of all the things for you to be worried and upset about, waking Albelin up is one of them? Incredible.”

He had a point. Still, the poor guy couldn’t be thrilled about us showing up at two in the morning. “My brain isn’t able to prioritize when it’s this full. It’s all a jumble.”

“Don’t worry, Lark,” Attic said, “He won’t be in bed yet.”

“You going to tell me Guardians don’t sleep, either?”

“No. We need to sleep. Only less than humans. Two to three hours a night serves us fine.”

I shook my head as if I could rid it of any useless stuff so there would be room for all this new information. I froze suddenly as a new thought rose to the surface of my mind. “You don’t drink blood, do you?” That memory of Blondie licking his neck in the car . . . Ugh.

“It’s not like we’re vampires or anything.”

“That’s not exactly the horrified denial I wanted to hear.”

Attic ran a hand through his hair. “Once a year at Aaramas we drink the blood of an Angel. But only a gulp.”

Ew. I wrinkled my nose.

“It’s the most exquisite thing you’ll ever taste.”

“Ahh. Enough,” I said and Attic chuckled. We took a left up a ramp leading to the interstate. “Where does Albelin live, anyway?”

“It’s where I live, too, you know.”

“You live with him?” I didn’t know why that surprised me, considering everything I’d learnt today, but it did.

Attic smiled. “Guardians tend to live in groups. At the very least in pairs. At the motel there are five of us, but it’s the training center for new Guardians, so there’ll be plenty of room for you.” Attic stiffened as soon as he said it.

“For me, too? What are you on about?” I looked at the speedometer. Every second we were further and further from my house. How was I going to get back? “I have my family here. I live with them.”

“You can’t go back,” Attic said, terse and clear.