Shadow Guardians: The Promised

Mari startled awake at the sound of the door opening. Her body was in agony, and she inhaled the sweet, metallic scent of blood as it dripped from her nose.

She had no idea how long she’d been here or even how long she’d dozed off for. That nagging pressure in her spinal cord increased and stiffened her neck even more.

“Hungry?” She heard a male say in a singsong voice. It wasn’t her father, but clearly, it amused him to see her in her helpless state.

She bit down and didn’t speak, nor did she indicate any answer with her head. For all she knew, he would bring her food just to taunt her before taking it away again.

She felt his body heat as he kneeled before her, and the scent of blood caught her nose. A plastic cup was brought to her mouth, but she pressed her lips together, unwilling to take anything into herself but the vitality of her mate.

“Drink!” The male bellowed and gave her a yank of her hair. She reflexively yipped, but she supposed it was better than a scream.

Well, she supposed that her father wouldn’t poison her. She was too valuable.

Suddenly, thinking of Georgiano as a father scratched her nerve endings, as if her whole being was telling her what a lie it was. She didn’t understand the feeling.

She drew in a shuddering breath and willingly took a sip of the blood.

The taste of it, though, was so different from Uriah’s, so weak, almost like it was rusted. It wasn’t the sweet, warm liquid from his vein but a bitter, cold, and half-congealed substance.

It fired up her gag reflex, and for the love of her, she couldn’t swallow it. Her throat shut itself, and every fiber of her being rejected it. She turned her head sideways and spit out the congealed mess on the floor.

Then came the sting of the slap against her face. “Ungrateful whore!” The bloke before her shouted.

She fought back tears and held her head high. She owed him no answer. He got up and left without offering anything more.

She heard him shut the door and moan and groan at others outside. It might’ve been her imagination, but the smell of brimstone seemed to be getting stronger around the house, cabin, or whatever it was.

That pressure in her spine increased, and a vision took shape. It happened so quickly before her eyes, but she was able to internalize it all just as fast, like she’d been there.

On a dark, overcast day on a meadow somewhere in England, the shrieks of demon armies cut through the once peaceful air.

Where it not for the fact that the meadow was the only thing separating their coven houses, Acheron and Lucian probably never would have come together.

The blending of their families was forbidden.

As another wave of the hoards approached in the distance, Acheron rode his horse across the fields to the other commander.

There was only one way to save both their houses, whether or not their elders would approve, and that was by working together.

As he approached Lucian, who was mounted on his own horse, and assessed the situation, his expression didn’t convey any spite towards Acheron. But then, they weren’t the ones feuding.

No, it was their great-grandparents who started this blood feud between their houses, and the children simply followed their directions.

Truthfully, even the children were growing sick of it.

“What do you want, Acheron?” Lucian asked when he was within hearing distance. “You know I’m not to speak with you.”

“Oh?” Acheron grinned while slowing his mare, who gave a familiarizing sniff at Lucian’s stallion. “Funny, I do remember that you and I used to sneak off when we were young to swim in the icy river, buck naked.”

"That was then. And as I recall, we were forbidden to leave the house after that for three months.”

“You’ve changed your mind about me, then?”

“Well, your great-grandfather did murder my great-grandfather’s sister while he stole his mate right underneath his nose.” Lucian scowled and waved a dismissive hand. “Or some other nonsense like that. I can’t really remember.”

A war horn blew, and when Acheron looked to the field, he was met with two ironclad females approaching. His own mate, Eirlys, and Lucian’s, Sapphire, were riding side-by-side, aside from the twenty-foot distance between them.

“You know war strategy as well as I, Lucian. You know we won’t win this battle if we don’t work together. We’ll lose both our houses.” Acheron said, just as the females were close enough to hear.“They’d rather let them fall than put aside their pride or traditions. Are we that foolish?”

“What’s this? Plotting to work together?” Sapphire teased.

“And behind our parents’ back,” Eirlys feigned hurt by bringing her hand to her heart. Her butterscotch locks were one long braid behind her back.

“Once they find out, and they will, you know what will happen. They will expel us, disown us.” Lucian cautioned while his horse grew agitated. The stallion was as eager to fight as he was.

“Well then, I propose that we create an alliance that cannot be broken by a coven.” Sapphire said, raising her chin.

“What do you have in mind?” Acheron asked.

Sapphire glanced at Eirlys, her best friend since childhood, no matter what her parents dictated. Like the males, the lure of forbidden fruit was too much to deny. Then she glanced back at the males.

“By joining our bloodlines. Neither of us have young,” Sapphire said, “But if we should, let us unite our families through them. If one of us has a son and the other a daughter, let them be mated. If we both have children of the same gender, let them form their own coven.”

Lucian let out a closed-mouth chuckle. “Well, you really do want us to be disowned.”

“They will not deny it if we involve the gods,” Eirlys answered. “They cannot. We can request this from Astera. Let it be set in stone before they ever have a say in the matter. Let us promise them to each other.”

“And if Astera declines?” Lucian asked.

Sapphire slanted eyes at her mate. “She is the goddess of love... She won’t refuse us. This is the reason she exists...”

Acheron studied his mate, then lifted a shoulder. “Well, they can either put aside their feud at the end of it, or they will chase us away and...”

“…And then we’ll stay together anyway.” Lucian finished.

“We must go to the temple as soon as this is over then,” Acheron said, hearing the approaching hoard that bypassed his army.

He unsheathed his sword, bloodied from battle but still sharp and begging for flesh. “Word spreads fast in this region.”

“You could just transform and chew your way through them, you know.” Sapphire teased, preparing her bow.

“Do you want me to lay in a useless sack of broken bones on the battlefield?” Acheron challenged, “Beasts are not kind to their hosts.”

“Here they come,” Eirlys sighed as dozens of spawn poured over the rolling hills from a portal across the field.

Acheron met Lucian’s golden-eyed gaze and extended his hand. “Together?”

Lucian grasped his hand in a firm hold, not wavering for a second. “Together.”

They charged into battle.

In the blink of an eye, the vision shifted, and the images in Marionette’s mind swirled with emotional intensity. She felt too afraid to believe the truth she had seen.

Her father’s memories, her real father, were like a dim, distant star in a clear night sky. She struggled to see them and make sense of them. They were echoes of his life from way before her time.

But the next part of the vision was a forgotten part of herself, and as she connected the dots, the strands of her father’s life came together.

The warriors had made camp, setting up their tents in bitter cold, braving the snow.

As her mother pulled her along by the hand, little Mari watched them gather around the big fire, some sharpening their swords, others sparring even in this cold.

Although she was dressed warmly in pelt, her feet were still freezing, and she struggled through the thick layer of snow on her short legs.

She knew something was wrong with her mother, but she wouldn’t tell her what it was.

Her mother steered her into the biggest of the tents, and inside, the scent of blood touched her nose. She understood her mother’s dolefulness when she saw her father resting on a makeshift bed of mostly fur and some wooden stuff.

“Father mine?” Mari peeped, cautiously stepping closer.

He wasn’t well at all. He was chalky and had rings around the eyes, and the flickering flames of the candles highlighted the sheen of sweat on his face, even in the freezing cold.

Still, he put on a smile for her and extended his arm.

Unsure of what to do, she glanced at her mother and wished she hadn’t. It was the first time she saw her mother crying.

But her mother gave her a tiny push, encouraging her to go to him, and then she followed.

“Come,” her father croaked out. She climbed onto the bed next to him, and he held her in the crook of his arm.

The smell of blood intensified, and she noticed the thick pieces of bloodied rags that were, she gulped, stuffed into a gaping whole in his abdomen.

“You’re sick,” Mari whimpered, as her mother lay in his other arm, squeezed tightly into him to fit onto the bed.

She could hear his chest wheezing beneath her cheek, and his breaths were short and rapid.

He stroked her hair, and seeing her mother cry was too much for her to handle. She couldn’t stop her own tears.

“I must leave you, my sweet. Very soon. Promise me you’ll look after Mother?” He managed.

Mari frowned as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t want you to go.” She held him tighter. “Can’t you go to the doctor?”

He gave a breathy little chuckle. “Too late for that, beautiful.”

“I wish I was a doctor. I would’ve helped you,” she hiccuped out, her crying intensifying. She lifted her head to wipe away the tears with her sleeve and looked into his azure eyes.

His hand wiped the tears from her other cheek. “You can be whatever you want to be,” he murmured, then pushed her against him again. “It’s such a blessing to have you both with me.”

Why did he have to go? Why did all that lived have to go eventually? If only she were older, if only she knew how to stitch, maybe she could’ve saved him.

Because he couldn’t talk much, they silently stayed by his side until Mari dozed off somewhere in the night.

She woke early in the morning with her head to his heart. Once steady, it now beat erratically beneath her ear, and her mother had scooted up, probably cradling his head or keeping her face close to his.

Mari didn’t want to look; she didn’t want them to know she was awake.

Outside, the sniping wind howled around the tents in the dark. The candles inside had gone out, save for a dim one still clinging to life in the corner.

“Are you afraid?” Mari heard her mother whisper to her father.

“No.” His voice sounded more forced now than earlier, even shaky. “But I’m sorry.”

He was crying, Mari realized, and she fought to keep her own waterworks at bay.

“You need not be; you need not worry,” her mother whispered, and Mari got the impression that she was stroking fingers through his hair. She was crying too. “We will manage. I have her, and she will have him when she’s older.”

“I love you,” he told her.

“And I you,” she answered.

Then his breathing started faltering, and his heart started speeding then slowing. Mari felt his hand on her back giving her a little squeeze.

“I-I love you,” he whispered again.

But Mari couldn’t let him go without him knowing she was awake.

“Father mine,” she whimpered, and even while he was struggling, she got a smile out of him. He nudged her up, and she pressed her face into his neck.

“I knew you were awake,” he said.

Of course he did. He always did.

They both held him tightly until his erratic breathing hiccuped, and then he blew out one long exhale, never to take the next inhale. The warmth left his body.

She and her mother cried and held onto each other and onto him.

Mari’s heart felt like it had been crushed. As tears rolled down her cheeks underneath the mask, she let out a silent scream that came out as a wheezing sound.

She leaned forward, wanting to curl into a ball as if that would ease the heavy pressure of emotion in her chest, but her bonds didn’t allow for that.

The pain in her own body didn’t even matter at that moment. Sobs racked through her, and a cloud of darkness came over her.

How did Georgiano worm his way into their lives if her real father died in the war?

The door burst open. “Aw, don’t cry, little baby.”

The male from before.

“You’re messing up your mascara,” he mocked, placing a hand on her bare thigh.

At that moment, Mari was filled with so much darkness and so much fury that she longed to rip him apart with her bare hands.

Her brain commanded her mouth to speak, and her lips moved, but she didn’t hear anything but a croak come out.

His hand lifted up towards the hem of the dress. “Mm,” she heard him growl. “Daddy’s disappointed in you, you know. A lady doesn’t dress like a second-hand prostitute.”

Mari gritted her teeth and said the words again.

“What’s that?” The male asked, and she could feel him lean closer in mockery.

She felt like she was mourning her father’s death all over again, and suddenly being referred to as Georgiano’s daughter made her blood boil until anger spilled over.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled at the top of her lungs.

She didn’t care if she spit on him.

In fact, he deserved it.

There was a moment of silence before his backhand connected with her face again.

But the sting was nothing compared to the agony of her broken heart or the growing pressure in her spine that threatened to break free of her skin.

And she didn’t let up. She thrashed her tiny body against the bonds, finding the chair half nailed to the floor. “Get out! Get out!” She screamed.

Crestfallen and angry, she wasn’t sure exactly what the male said after that, if anything, or at which point he left the room.

The only thing she knew was that Georgiano was nothing to her.

And she wouldn’t give a damn if anyone accidentally drove a spear through his heart.

19

“Everyone ready?” Uriah asked when the crew were gathered in the library.

He’d told them about the memories that had been surfacing for him and what they were. At first, he didn’t understand it himself until he realized that some of them belonged to Marionette and some were his own.

As much as he hated it, he understood why Astera made him wait. She’d shown him Marionette’s location, and without the memories, he wouldn’t have any idea how to traverse through the woods. He swallowed hard, remembering that place.

It had always been a peaceful abode. How unfitting it was that she was now held captive there.

“Ready when you are.” Draven said.

And then murder echoed down the halls.

“Terronth! Just calm down, please,” the human servant begged while holding him underneath her arm. He was kicking and screaming more than crying.

Ophelia heaved a sigh as she watched Annie struggle with her child.

Magnus cocked his head and wore a sideways grin. “You know this is karma, right?” He said to Zachiel. “For all the shit you did when you were young.”

“What the hell did I do?” Zachiel extended his neck back as he looked at him.

Magnus gave a half-chuckle. “Oh, don’t get me started.”

“Don’t worry, Annie,” Ophelia said wearily, “He’ll wear himself out eventually.”

Uriah stared at Terronth and was impressed with the strength of his lungs. He’d been screaming like that for the last half hour, running away from Annie and his other nannies, falling down on the floor, kicking, and yelling.

And Uriah wondered why in the hell it wasn’t okay for him to act that way. He sure felt like it. And he and Terronth were upset about the same thing – Mari.

“Ye-” Terronth’s little fist connected with Annie’s side. It couldn’t have hurt, but she ducked back anyway and nearly lost her grip on him. If she had, it would’ve taken her hours to catch him again. “-Yes, m’lady…”

Zachiel came over and took Terronth’s face in his hands. “Be good,” he commanded with no room for argument.

Terronth’s screaming seemed to ease off a bit, and he pulled a very sad face at his father. Annie let out a sigh of relief.

Ophelia came over and gave him a kiss on the forehead before rejoining the group. Then they all took hands with Uriah, and he showed them the location.

They dematerialized.

And as soon as they were gone, Terronth started screaming and wiggling again.

Annie sighed. “Let’s go find Salem, hm?” She suggested, but got no coherent answer.