Guardian's Hope (11 page)

“Thanks, Nardo. Keep doing what you can. I
know this is human business and none of ours, so I appreciate the
help.”

“Hey, she’s a Daughter of Man like Manon and
Grace and while that may not fit with Guardian Rules,” Nardo quoted
with his fingers, “It fits in this House. She’s one of us. Canaan’s
not going to let this drop. And even if he did, my free time’s my
own.”

Nico was grateful. He’d come to this House
because he’d heard rumors of a Liege Lord who was making waves. He
thought it might break the monotony of moving to a new House every
three years only to find each new one to be the same as the old.
Canaan ad Simeon was a man known for speaking his mind and breaking
with the old traditions that were decimating the ranks of the
Guardians around the modern world. Canaan encouraged independent
thinking and action. Nardo was a proof of the rebellion. Nico had
never seen a House that used technology the way this one did. He
was impressed by it and by the people who lived here. They were an
odd lot and yet they meshed well together. He would miss it when he
left.

“Thanks again. If you’ll pass it along to
Canaan, I’ll tell Hope.”

Nardo grinned. “She’s a sweetheart, isn’t
she? A little skittish maybe, but this place would scare the pants
off most women. She’s got grit. You got a good woman there,
Nico.”

Nico gritted his teeth. “I have taken up her
cause, but she is not my woman.”

“Oh yeah, sure. No offence meant there,
buddy,” Nardo said with a wave of his hand.

But Nico heard Nardo’s gentle laughter as he
walked away from the door.

Chapter 10

Nico walked through the alleys and side
streets of his assigned area of the city. As always, he was alert
to his surroundings and mindful of the demon threat. Tonight, there
was no whiff of demon in the air. Things had been quiet since the
elimination of the last lot and he was thankful that Canaan agreed
to his request to patrol alone. It was better this way, to rely on
no one but himself. Safer, too, not only for himself but for those
who fought beside him. Dov had saved his life as he himself had
helped save Col’s. That was the way of the Guardians of the Race
and it was right. Nevertheless, it didn’t do to become
attached.

Most nights, patrolling the streets was quiet
work and when working with a partner, those long stretches of
silence begged to be filled. Something about the dark and the
silence loosened tongues. It was a time when Guardians tended to
share their innermost thoughts; thoughts they might not otherwise
voice. Bonding they would call it today. He wondered if this need
to share was built into them as a way to forge loyalty to their
House through shared secrets. He’d felt the need himself a few
times when keeping watch with Canaan and he’d shared a few things
he hadn’t meant to.

It didn’t matter. He’d signed on for the
minimum three years as he’d done with every other House he’d served
and he would serve them faithfully and then leave as he always had,
with no animosity and no attachments. Which was why he needed to
keep himself away from Hope.

Hope wasn’t a woman to be dallied with. She
wouldn’t understand a casual affair offering comfort and amusement
for them both. He laughed to himself. She would probably be shocked
to know that he thought of her that way, but how could he not.

Zaftig, the Germans called it. She was tall,
full-bodied and beautiful with hair so soft and lustrous it
inflamed a man’s senses and eyes so warm they could melt the
coldest heart. She had no idea of her beauty and that made it all
the more alluring. She covered herself from head to foot, but he’d
held her in his arms, all be it innocently, and he knew what
wonders were hidden under those baggy clothes. He wanted her. He
wasn’t fool enough to deny it. But he would never have her. She
deserved better.

He took a left at the next corner and headed
for the river front. The weather was still winter cold and the rain
from the day before left a dampness in the air that seemed to cling
to the surrounding area. An icy wind whipped off the water and tore
at Nico’s leather duster. Normally a hot bed of illegal activity,
tonight the place looked deserted. Evidently the raw weather had
proved too chilling for criminals as well as the homeless who, in
warmer weather, could usually be found sleeping in doorways or
curled under loading docks. On a night like this, the local
shelters would be filled and those that eschewed their minimal
comfort would find shelter in garbage laden alleys where the wind
could not reach them.

A mighty gust blew over the wharf. Nico
lifted his head and inhaled deeply. Amidst the lingering odors of
refuse, fuels and unwashed bodies he caught a faint trace of demon.
He headed into the wind, scanning left and right, searching for the
source. He changed direction slightly when another gust brought a
faint but telling odor from the far end of the wharf. Carried on
the wind, the faint murmur of voices reached his sensitive ears
though he was still too far away to distinguish the words. The
voices were carried away as quickly as they came.

He called the white light and sped through
the darkness, but when he reached the last pier, the demon was gone
leaving only his stench to be carried on the wind. Nico was tempted
to follow yet something held him back and he took the time to
search the pier and its surrounding water. A body floated face down
in the water between two boats tied to the pier.

He knew it was too late before he entered the
water. There was no heartbeat, no sign of life. He couldn’t leave
her there to bloat beyond recognition. He tossed his coat aside,
kicked off his shoes and dove.

It was a young woman, plain faced and
emaciated. Beyond the mask of death he could see her eyes sunken in
darkened pits, her lips pulled back in a grimace of pain on her
skeletal face. This wasn’t demon work, at least none that he’d ever
seen before, so why was the demon here and who was with it. He
smelled one demon. He’d heard two voices and the dead woman hadn’t
spoken for hours. He searched her clothing for identification, not
expecting any, and wasn’t disappointed. The only thing he found was
a torn piece of paper carefully folded in the pocket. It was too
wet to unfold so he tucked it in the inner pocket of his coat
before making the anonymous call to 911.

He was cold, wet and stank of the river. It
was time to go home.

*****

“Hey Nico, new cologne?’

“Eau de Outhouse, isn’t it?”

“Dov. Col.” Nico nodded to each in turn.
“Your wit might be better appreciated if you didn’t look like two
clowns in need of a cream pie.”

The twins were in the kitchen, one mashing
potatoes and the other ladling corn into a bowl. They both wore
aprons, the bibs high on their necks with the strings tied around
their chests. They looked down at their pastel ruffles and
grinned.

“We’re making a statement. It says we’re
secure in our masculinity.” Dov smoothed the pink cotton over his
stomach.

“I’m glad you told me. I was thinking of
another word entirely.” Nico sucked on his teeth and shook his
head.

“It’s Grace’s fault. We tried to give her the
old ‘men hunt demons, women cook dinner’, but she started throwing
things.”

“We’ve been assigned kitchen duty. Meatloaf,
mashed potatoes, corn, green beans… oh shit, I forgot the rolls.”
Col grabbed the loaded tray and slipped it into the oven.

“Grace made the meatloaf and rolls and left
us a list of what to do. Hope needed her. Some crisis,” Dov
explained.

“Hope? Is she all right? Has something
happened?” He looked from the gym door to the one opening to the
hallway. “Where is she?”

The twins exchanged glances and Nico knew
he’d over reacted. He could almost hear them snicker. It was in
their eyes. He waited, less than patient.

“Just girl stuff. There was some big tiz over
some boxes that were delivered. Your girlfriend’s fine.”

Nico glared. “She is not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before,” Col
laughed. “Ask Canaan. He got the t-shirt.”

Nico shook his head in disgust and headed for
his rooms to shower. As he climbed the stairs he could hear the
twins singing a horribly off key rendition of “Let Me Call You
Sweetheart” at the top of their lungs.

There was laughing and giggling and something
that sounded like a horrified protest coming out from behind the
closed door of Hope’s room. He paused, listened for a moment and
moved on when assured there was nothing serious going on.

He waited until after supper to tell them
about the incident on the docks. When he finished, he took the now
dry paper from the pocket of his jacket. It was brittle and
crumbling around the edges and he took his time unfolding it. The
scrap was a title page from an old cookbook. Three words were
scrawled across the page.

Dov leaned over for a closer look. “Help me
Hope. Wow! It’s got your name on it.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Nico snapped. “She isn’t
the only Hope in the world.”

Hope was out of her chair and looking too, as
everyone else crowded around. The ink was blurred but the writing
was large enough to be distinct.

Help me - Hope

Hope’s hand flew to her mouth, too late to
stop her pain filled cry. Nico was there to steady her as she
swayed.

“That’s my sister’s handwriting. I know it.
That’s Faith. Oh dear God in Heaven. It’s Faith.”

She was breathing too heavily and too fast.
She needed air but the harder she tried, the less reached her
lungs. The room was turning grey. She clawed at Nico’s shirt front
and felt his arms tighten around her. Everyone was talking at once
but the words were muffled and she couldn’t understand. She heard
the sound of glass breaking and felt Nico catch her as she slumped
in his arms. Grey faded to black.

When she awoke, she was on the sofa in the
parlor and the first thing she saw was Nico in the chair opposite.
The hard, angular planes of his handsome face were softened in
sleep. With his long, dark lashes resting on his pale cheeks and
his hair falling softly over his shoulders she could almost see the
boy he once was. She smiled and watched him for a moment, curling
into the comfort of his presence. Even asleep, Nico made her feel
safe and protected. She paused in her thoughts. Safe and protected
from what?

She gasped as she remembered and Nico’s eyes
snapped open. He didn’t move or speak, only watched her carefully.
Waiting.

“Faith,” she whispered. “It was Faith. The
woman you found in the river was my sister.”

He was on his feet, reaching for her and she
rose to meet him. He cradled her gently against his chest and
murmured into her hair.

“We don’t know that. Let’s let Nardo find out
what he can. It was only three words, Hope, and they were
blurred.”

“No,” she said, wanting to stay enfolded in
his arms, knowing she couldn’t. “It’s hers. I can show you.”

She forced herself to pull away from his
embrace but held his hand and pulled him after her, up the stairs
to her room. She went directly to the Bible on her dresser and
removed another ragged scrap of paper, this one with edges darkened
by fire.

“Look,” she said and held the paper out to
him. It was a fragment of a letter written on pale blue
stationary.

last letter I’m going to write

swered any of the others so I

in touch with me

Bar. They’ll know

on’t this

ou’d turn against me.

e him than I thought.

ad to go.

“Look at the script. Compare it with the note
you brought home. Faith was always so proud of her penmanship,
always delighted when our father chose her to write something for
him. When she was a girl, she’d practice for hours. She thought it
made her special. I guess it did. I don’t know anything anymore.
Only that she’s dead and I failed her.”

Nico gently replaced the scrap in the Bible
and set it on the dresser. He reached for her hands and held one in
each of his.

“I agree that the handwriting is distinctive
and most probably Faith’s, but we don’t know how it came to be in
the girl’s pocket. The woman I found was very young, little more
than a girl. She looked nothing like the picture you showed
us.”

“You said she was sick, emaciated. You might
not have recognized her. You weren’t looking for Faith.” Hope’s
eyes filled again at the thought of Faith alone and in pain.

“I am always looking for your sister. We all
are. As soon as you told us your story, Nardo set up a search grid
based on our patrols.” Nico smiled reassuringly. “We will cover the
territory much faster than a lone woman searching alphabetically.
For now, let Nardo do his job and don’t borrow trouble.”

“I’ll try,” she said.

He pointed to the bed. “Now, what is all
this?” he asked, more to distract her than out of curiosity.

Hope wiped her eyes, blew her nose and turned
to the bed piled high with new clothing, the tags conspicuously
absent. Hope put her hands on her hips and huffed.

“This is Manon’s doing. She decided my
wardrobe wasn’t ‘sufficient’ for a woman my age. She and Grace went
shopping on line and bought all these things. They dragged me up
here this afternoon to show me their loot. Made me try everything
on.”

She made a show of straightening the stack so
she could inconspicuously tuck the pile of lacy and revealing
lingerie underneath. She’d tried those on, too, and was surprised
and a little excited by the way they made her feel. She’d never
worn anything but plain white cotton, top and bottom, and the
comments her new friends made when they’d finally forced her out of
the bathroom, both embarrassed and thrilled her at the same
time.