Guardian of My Soul (2 page)

Sally licked her lips, her mouth filling with saliva and
blood, the pain intense. For a moment she felt sharp again, almost herself. She
closed her eyes and sniffed the air.

There.

Her incense.

The darkness loosened its grip.

“Okay, I’ve got us both now, baby,” Kyle said. “You sleep. I
can do the rest from here.”

The world receded. Once again Sally was disorientated. She
was falling, but up high in Kyle’s arms she knew she was floating on air.
Pressure heaved in her head and chest, hard enough that she thought she’d burst
like an overripe melon.

“Sal, we’re back,” Kyle said.

Sally felt the floor beneath her face. Slowly, shaking hard
with the terrible effort it required to sit up, she looked around her. Twitches
convulsed her body. It took her a moment to recall how to speak.

Everything was different, though her room looked remarkably
the same.

Sally didn’t need to look within herself. She could feel the
pieces broken and scattered, disjointed and smeared.

She started to cry but the tears burned.

She wasn’t the woman she’d been.

Sally looked at Kyle, feeling lost even though she knew
exactly where she was. He captured her gaze and held it steadily. Tenderly he
reached for her hand and twined their fingers together. The contact made her
shake harder, but neither let the other go.

“Kyle,” she said. Her voice was husky and raw.

“Kyle,” she repeated, “I’m in trouble.”

“I know, baby,” he said softly, almost whispering. “But I’m
here and I’ll help you.”

Sally tried to shake her head but she had no energy left.
Her arms shook and her chest heaved. She wanted to throw up and never stop
until she was empty.

“We’ll start again,” he insisted. “We have our network and
reputations. We’ll go away and get you better and then we’ll begin fresh. Do it
right this time. I’ll help you. Every step.”

Sally cried. Even though her face felt as if it were on fire
and her nose was blocked up, she needed the release. She was broken, she knew,
irreparable. Nothing would be the same again. But Kyle looked at her with such
faith, such conviction, that she couldn’t give up. Not after what he’d been
through to get her back. She wouldn’t let him down. Not her Kyle.

“It’s going to be a long road back,” she warned him.

He grinned, a charming, warm smile that made her feel as if the
sun were shining on her.

“That’s okay, I’m not doing anything else,” he said.

Sally nodded. Kyle was right. It would be difficult, but
since when had she taken the easy path?

Present day

She closed her eyes, breathed slowly and deeply. Forced
herself to hold her scalding temper in check. Despite the fact that those
around her declared it was done, she knew that was not truly the case. She was
not finished. Never would she let this burning desire go. It would not be over
until she and she alone knew it was complete.

Despite the passage of time, she still had nothing but
frustrated outrage deep in her soul every time she thought about the destroyed
ritual. How Morgan could have given the dark relic into the hands of his
imbecilic whelps for safekeeping eluded her.

Her hatred only grew every time she thought on it. Morgan
portrayed nothing but pride and confidence in his protégés, and this more than
any of his superfluous words told the real story. Morgan had knowingly and
purposefully given his minions the ritual—his secret plan all along had been for
it to be destroyed.

Her cherished hopes, dreams and plans had burned up along
with the dry, crinkled papyrus. Yet she did not despair. Deep in her soul she
knew she would not only come out of this intact, but flourishing. More powerful
and in control than ever. Her magic would become more potent than she could
imagine in her wildest fantasies. She knew it without any doubt. It was rooted
deeply within her soul.

She had a destiny.

It took every iota of her considerable willpower to conceal
her ever-growing distaste for them all. For Morgan and his simpering minions.
For the coddled, gluttonous, spineless members of the Tribunal. Many of them
were little better than whelps, animals stumbling along idiotically, with
barely a single rational thought rattling around lonely in their collective
skulls.

Regardless of the setbacks she had faced she refused—utterly
refused—to be defeated. Yet despite her intricate plans, the buffoons who had
come so highly recommended had not managed to secure either Josh Delamere or
Kiera Patrick.

Now, with Special Ops and the Guardians involved, she had to
step back and review her strategy. She was not some fresh-faced, wet-behind-the-ears
idiot novice. Regrouping and recovering one’s position, taking a brief break to
come back stronger and more secure, was often the best response in a situation
such as this, and she knew it was the path she needed to take in this matter
now.

Unlike many of the traitors and dark wizards she had known
well in her younger days, she did not view such strategic responses as weak,
embarrassing or something to be ashamed of.

She knew how to keep her eye on the prize, to retain the
bigger picture clearly in her sights. While outrage still bubbled beneath the
surface of her carefully maintained façade, she knew for certain the two
protégés were currently out of her grasp. It angered her, but keeping her other
dark artifacts and secret knowledge in mind, she was willing to let that
particular chapter close for now.

While one of the more elderly members of the Tribunal waffled
on about how pleased he was both Josh and Kiera were safely hidden away and
blah blah blah, she plastered a thoughtful but agreeable look on her face.

Only partially following the rambling, pompous fool’s speech,
she instead focused her mind on other more pleasurable things. The idea of teaching
her hirelings a lesson about what occurred to those who displeased her gave her
a warm, glowing feeling in her chest. They were indeed happy thoughts.

The strained muscles in her face relaxed and she knew her appearance
was more natural now. Torturing and punishing her minions for their despicable
showing, their failure to carry out the simplest, easiest of tasks, would give
her hours of entertainment. Reliving her favorite memories of other such
occasions and spinning fantasies of what she would do later in the evening
helped to pass much of the tedious, time-consuming meeting.

With a small pang she finally had to return to the wood-paneled
room she occupied and pay attention as yet another wizard spoke. After less
than a minute she realized he merely wanted to repeat what others had already
stated. So many idiots needed to pontificate on their importance. Her mind
wandered once again.

The distraction of thinking about her minions had assisted
in decompressing her inflamed emotions. The stress that had overwhelmed her as
each of her carefully laid plans had fallen under the incompetence of her
hirelings should been negated as she painfully rid the world of their presence.

For now, like any professional, she knew the importance of
keeping up appearances—lying low and remaining vigilant were the critical
factors. She knew her current nemesis well enough to know he would make a move
soon enough. Morgan would not be able to resist stirring the pot and attempting
to draw her out. There would be plenty of time for her to reassess the
situation and make her move.

Soon her time would come. An opportunity in one form or another
would doubtless present itself and she would be alert and more than ready to
grasp the power and dark rituals that always were at her fingertips.

Yes.

She would bide her time and take advantage when the correct
situation presented itself.

Reluctantly, she could see no other option except to cut her
losses on both Kiera and Josh—at least for now, while they were so well
protected and everyone had so much interest in them. Even though it galled her
to admit it, she knew it would only end in disaster if she pressed her luck
further in those quarters. There would always be opportunities months or even
years from now. She had all the time in the world—she could be patient on that
front.

After years of working toward placing herself in this high-level
position, she would not lose out to greed, incompetence or impatience. The
ritual she’d lost had been impressively potent, yes, but there were always more
opportunities. Another chance would come along for her to expand her power and
dabble deeper in the darkest arts.

She already had possession of some despicable castings. Like
drew to like…more would come across her path. Comforted, she settled deeper
into her plush seat. Knowing she had such wicked power at her fingertips
soothed her as little else could. The dark rituals fed her soul and nourished
her craving for ultimate strength.

Nothing could compare—nothing else she had ever experienced
even came close. Many years ago she had willingly and eagerly chosen her path,
and not once had she felt the desire to deviate.

Satisfaction poured through her blood like the most potent
of drugs. Her mouth watered to taste more. She craved it. But for now she would
lie in wait and be patient. She would strike at the most opportune moment,
sharper than a serpent’s fang.

It was what she did best.

Sally’s eyes were closed as she focused on her breathing.
The familiar scent that gently filled her senses both comforted and worried
her. It took her a moment to understand this dichotomy of emotions, as her mind
was incredibly fuzzy.

The mingled scent of frankincense, sandalwood and myrrh was
one of her own concocting, which she recognized. Many hours had gone into
grinding and purifying, then creating the incense cones that emitted the
well-known scent.

As she cleared her mind and struggled to remember, Sally had
vibrant but brief flashbacks. Many times in the past she’d used this blend of
scents to calm her mind, focus her magical intent and purify her soul.

Her eyes flew open as she recalled that once again she was
in the middle of performing a dark ritual.

In a moment of clarity, the worry she felt suddenly made
sense. She had left that side of herself behind many years ago. That was all in
her past, not her present. The depths to which she had sunk had left their
stain on her soul. She paid the price every day.

While the craving of addiction and the temptation to
re-experience the dark arts had never left her, with Kyle’s support and
friendship she had managed to successfully stay on the straight and narrow.

She didn’t understand why she was delving back into the
thick, syrupy mess of dark magic once again. Yes, her mouth watered to taste
those powers again, but for years now she had been strong. Kyle had helped her to
stay on the right path. Together they had fought her demons and beaten them
back into submission.

Although Sally knew she outwardly still appeared quite
twitchy, even unbalanced to some, her strong powers and psychic ability had
given her and Kyle a professional reputation that was the envy of many.
Together they were all but unstoppable. They had their choice of jobs on offer
and they had long ago decided they would not be parted professionally ever
again. Such was the luxury of their reputations—they could fulfill that
promise.

Sally could see only shadows, the darkness of her room
broken up by the flickering flame of a few thick, black wax candles. She didn’t
recall lighting them but she must have, in preparation for the ritual. Night
had fallen without her realizing.

Once she recognized her home, Sally was no longer concerned about
where she was. The familiar scent, the presence of the black candles, her
determination to focus—it all reminded her hazily of the fact that she was
supposed to be focusing on the spell.

The spell.

Sickness washed over her. Emotions bombarded her, a well-known
mixture of fear, nerves, excitement and soul-deep hunger. The forbidden thrill
of casting magic she knew wasn’t allowed. And the rush that could come with the
power from the dark side.

It was wrapped up in an intoxicating thrill of ever-growing
power that raced through her blood. The heady sensation thrummed through her
body—Sally was sure she was vibrating. She was no stranger to this delectable
ecstasy. Many times in the past she had indulged—even more had she yearned for
this feeling.

But Kyle had always known it was wrong. He alone had stayed
pure and true. Kyle had always been her best friend and white knight, urging
her to remain attentive to the truth of her real soul. Seemingly he alone could
see the lightness, purity and good her magic could bring for others.

In her darkest hours, no one but he had retained any faith
in her. Only he had cared about her soul. Even she had given up on herself.

But he had remained steadfast, her only companion and
eventually her rescuer. His strength, determination and unwavering faith had
helped to give her the strength she needed to drag herself back up into the
land of the living. He’d been by her side for every painful, horrid moment of
withdrawal. It had been Kyle who’d helped to keep her from the seductive beckoning
of death as she purged her body as best she could.

Sally’s mind felt as if it were full of cotton.

Where was Kyle? Why wasn’t he there, scolding her and
watching over her?

In those early days and weeks when she had truly still been
entangled in her addiction to the darker magics, he had lived with her,
protecting her and guiding her back to life. If she had fallen so far once more,
surely he would know it. They were closer than ever. Partners. Nothing happened
to either of them without the other being aware of it.

So Kyle had to know she had fallen once again. He would have
remained here to be with her. So where had he gone?

For an earth-shaking moment Sally wondered if she had fallen
back into this darkest corner of Hell because she had lost him. Fear
overwhelmed her, stole her breath. Her body trembled and shook, on the edge of
collapse.

If she had lost the only wizard who made her feel secure,
whole, who kept her from the brink, then she knew she would not survive. If she
had fallen this far, surely it was because Kyle was no longer in this world to
help to keep her steady?

The thought shattered any chance of rational thought Sally
had. For years now Kyle had been her rock, the only solid thing in her whole
world. He always insisted it was she who held herself together but Sally knew
better.

Panic about the loss of Kyle stole her breath and for a
moment she felt as if she would literally shatter into a million pieces, fall
below the threatening black waves of doom and despair and never return.

The spell.

Once again something deep within her mind spoke and reminded
her. She was supposed to be doing a spell… Her eyes regained their focus and
once more she saw the flickering flames of the candles, smelled the burning
incense. As if a record were stuck and could merely be snapped back into
playing properly, Sally tried to bring her mind into focus. Something about the
spell was linked to Kyle. The two were interwoven in her splintered mind.

Finer details were fuzzy to her but she was filled with a
sudden surge of dark power, the secretive thrill of the black magic flooding
through her body, making her skin crackle with its intensity. She fought to
contain and control it, but in her heart she knew it was useless. Sally knew
she was too far gone to resist the tempting, seductive urges filling her every
orifice.

As she closed her eyes once again to breathe deeply and
focus her attention, Sally’s mind filled with all manner of demons. Despite her
struggles to focus on the spell she was trying to create, flashbacks of
increasing intensity filled her mind as over and over she relived all the times
she had been exactly here before—and their consequences.

The deeper her mind fell into times past, the greater her
hunger for more and more dark power grew. The demons within her heart clawed to
gain control of her once more and tear their way out of her body. Every breath of
each day since she had turned her back on this heritage of hers, Sally had
struggled to control and contain these thoughts. She spent every conscious moment
restraining the dark cravings and keeping the monsters at bay.

Tonight, however, she needed both to control this power…and
to use it.

It was as if she had to walk a tightrope between her past
and her present. An unimaginable struggle she didn’t understand how to win
without Kyle’s strength beside her.

Sally saw the image of Kyle clearly in her mind’s eye, tall
and lithe, built strongly with sleek muscles. From the day she had met him,
Kyle had always appeared like a wizard who could take on the world, bring it to
its knees and then afterward ever-so-calmly have a cigarette and look around
for more.

With spiky blond hair and dark blue eyes, the wizard was
ruggedly handsome, but Sally knew of the scars smattering his body, which were
seldom visible to others. She had been present when most of them had been
inflicted and knew the tales behind them. Indeed, a number of the scars had
only been non-fatal because of her presence and quick thinking, either
stitching or healing her partner before blood loss could finish what the wound
had begun.

Seeing Kyle so clearly before her, Sally ached.

She craved, with desperate longing, to reach out, touch him,
to feel his arms around her. Long years of experience as his partner let her
know that would not happen. Pain registered and Sally turned away, tears in her
eyes.

The temptation to explore the darkness deeper, to dive into
it and release herself from her endless struggle, beckoned enticingly. With a
hard swallow around the lump in her throat, Sally delved into the darkness.

For one shining, breathless moment Sally felt invincible as
the black magic surged through her body. She could see the universe in its
entirety, clearly before her eyes, each individual cell and organism as they
created the pattern and rhythm of life. The world opened to her, right there at
her fingertips.

And then Kyle’s voice came to her, resounding around her
entire world.

“You need to focus, Sally,” he said. She recognized his
voice instantly, the calm, intractable perfection of his tone. Nothing ever
flustered the wizard—even in the hardest, most deadly of situations, his voice
always soothed her and sounded so placid, his faith unshakeable. This time,
however, she could have sworn she heard more than the usual friendly warmth in
his tone. Sally could have sworn she could hear worry and love.

“You need to do what you promised, Sal. Don’t be distracted.
I know you’re strong enough to do this. Please, Sally. Do it and come back to
me.”

With the world open at her fingertips, Sally could see
clearly for the first time that evening. Kyle once again stood before her, but
this time she was certain it was not just an image. Kyle—her partner, friend
and secretly the love of her life. He was the reason she drew breath every day.

His dark-blue eyes burned into her, silently reminding her
to do what she had promised. Sally’s heart beat faster, a strange staccato
rhythm that made her pant. Kyle waved an arm, urged her deeper, onward.

She knew she could not fail this wizard. He had done so much
for her and he needed this.
They
needed this.

Despite her hunger to reach forward and touch him, to feel
that smooth skin and rough stubble beneath the tips of her fingers, Sally
restrained herself.

“Go on,” Kyle said. He nodded to the candles and the thin,
smoky curls of the incense. “You’ll come back to me—you always do. And you know
that if you don’t, I’ll come for you. I always come for you, don’t I, Sal?”

Finally the darkness receded a little for Sally. No one but
Kyle ever called her Sal. The moniker was a private thing between them and the
soft endearment helped to galvanize her. Her brain still remained foggy and uncertain
of what spell she needed to perform, but in a flash of insight she knew she
needed to write it down.

Grateful for even this small understanding, Sally
instinctively reached out to touch Kyle’s jaw in thanks. His form wavered
before her eyes and her stomach plummeted. In an instant all the calmness Kyle’s
presence had brought receded and blew to dust.

He isn’t really here with you,
her mind whispered
with hungry exaltation. Sally’s heartbeat sped up until she was certain it
would break through her rib cage.
He’s not really here. Will never be down
here with you. He can’t reach you when we have our claws in you, blonde one. It’s
just you and us, and you know very well we are so much stronger. Without your
white knight you are nothing. He is gone, never to be seen or touched again.
You are ours.

Sally felt panic overwhelm her. The knowledge that she would
never see Kyle again could destroy her. Mentally and emotionally, she depended
on Kyle.

Wild fear surged through her, potent in its intensity. She
screamed, her heart shattering and her mind only a step behind. Sally turned
and ran as fast as she could.

Her legs tangled in something and she fell to the ground,
gasping for air and sweating from the exertion. Flicking the long pale-blonde
strands of hair out of her eyes, Sally looked around her bed, desperately
struggling to grasp the moonbeam-faint echoes of power and rational thought she
knew she still retained somewhere deep inside her.

The sheets were twisted around her body, the covers tied
almost in knots at the base of her bed and falling onto the floor. There was no
incense, no candles and, most importantly of all, no demons whispering in her
ear.

Only her dreams and memories of a time in her past that
haunted her every moment—waking or sleeping—filled the bedroom.

The cold, empty bedroom that had her shaking with both
relief and devastation.

Sally gasped, biting down on her lip in her determination to
not cry. She shouldn’t have any tears left. Refusing to give in to the
shuddering craving, she reiterated her vow never to succumb and wallow again in
the dark magic. She had been down that road before, almost lost herself. She’d
abandoned herself to the side of evil earlier in her life, but after clawing
her way up, she didn’t ever want to go back.

As the sweat cooled over her body, Sally cast her mind back
over the hazy recollections of her dream. It had been a strange one. Greatly
dissimilar to her countless other flashbacks and nightmares over the years.

Normally she dreamed of the crimes she had committed, the
people she had used, drained or otherwise hurt. Never had Kyle come into her
dreams in that critically important way. Sometimes he was an unseen presence
behind the scenes, a feeling or memory rather than an active presence, but having
her partner appear so vividly, so realistically, made her worry that perhaps
her subconscious had picked up on a submission to temptation her active mind
had not registered. If she were slipping back into her old patterns, this might
be the first step, a junction at which she could turn back and stop herself
before it was too late.