The Guardians: An Urban Fantasy Romance (8 page)

It wasn’t just the shorts, but the way she walked, as if the entire world were a runway. She had presence and a strut that made her look at home on the dusty path wearing cutoff shorts and someone else’s cowboy boots. Far too busty to wear the shirt Micah had given her, she’d borrowed one of Jackson’s, knotting it at the bottom against her hip for a better fit. The smooth patch of skin showing between the knotted t-shirt and the waistband of her shorts taunted him, until all he could think about was grabbing her by the waist and pulling her up against him, allowing his thumb to trace that bare skin in slow circles.

It had been far too long since he’d gotten laid. It had to be the explanation for why he was so distracted when they had far more important things to worry about. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on their surroundings instead of Addison’s curvaceous thighs.

The trailer’s faded siding looked weathered and worn, the wooden steps leading up to its front door splintered and littered with cigarette ash. A cat lay in the shadows beneath the stairs, its yellow eyes glittering and its black tail twitching. A clay pot sat near the front door, the dead stems of a plant withering and hanging over its edges. More cigarette butts protruded from the ash-covered soil. Floral curtains covered the windows and could be seen through the broken slats of the mini-blinds behind them.

“Are you sure there’s anyone here?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder to where Micah stood leaning against his pick-up. There wasn’t another car parked in the makeshift driveway—no more than a slab of concrete on the side of the house—and not a sound came from inside the trailer.

“Only one way to find out,” she declared, balling her hand into a fist and pounding on the door.

It rattled in the frame as he tried to peer through the gaps in the blinds, hoping to determine if there was anyone at home. He understood her need for more information, but being out in the open like this made him edgy. Demons had no qualms about attacking in broad daylight, and Addison had now become their number one target.

When no one answered, she knocked again, this time rising up on tiptoe to peer through the small circular window built into the door. After another moment, she tried the doorknob and found it unlocked.

“Wait,” he whispered, taking her elbow in a gentle but firm grasp. “Let me go in first.”

The house felt too quiet, too still. Motioning for Micah to join them, he brushed past Addison and through the open door. The closed curtains left the living room and kitchen area of the trailer in shadowed darkness. He made out the shapes of furniture in the room and reached out for a lamp. The bulb flickered on, casting its meager light on a gut-churning scene. The place was in shambles, the furniture falling apart, the cushions burnt in several places by cigarettes. Speaking of which, the room reeked of stale Marlboros and cat urine. A few of the animals lounged about on surfaces; a third licked at a molding dinner plate left on the coffee table.

The living area and kitchen were a mess, littered with stray magazines, empty glasses, and dirty plates. Piles of clothing that he could only assume were dirty lay strewn on the floor, the kitchen counters piled high with even more filthy dishes. A trashcan in the corner of the room overflowed, and four ashtrays brimmed with ashes and butts. He wrinkled his nose, coming farther into the room, keeping alert for any sign of trouble.

“There’s no way anyone lives here,” Micah declared, following him into the room. “This place hasn’t been cleaned in God knows how long.”

“Oh, yes, there is,” Addison protested from the doorway. “This is how it’s always been. The litterbox is clean.” She pointed at the tray. “My mother might not take very good care of herself, but she always looks after the cats. She’s here.”

Jack held a hand up to keep her from advancing farther into the trailer. “Let us check the bedrooms first.”

She rolled her eyes but stayed put while he and Micah waded through the trashed living room toward the open door hanging open just off the kitchen. A low whimper met his ears before he reached the threshold, and he darted inside, his every nerve ending on high alert. The room appeared empty at first—just a cluttered mess, with old, dilapidated furniture and one very hideous, floral-printed bedspread.

“Did you hear that?” he asked as Micah came up behind him.

“Prob’ly just another cat,” his friend drawled. “Checked the room next door and the bathroom. All clear.”

He inclined his head and listened close. “No, it wasn’t a cat,” he insisted. “It sounded like a person.”

“You’re paranoid,
podna
. There ain’t nobody…”

Micah trailed off as the tacky bedspread moved and shifted, and a pile of even more clothes fell aside to reveal a writhing form on the bed.

Exchanging a glance with Micah, Jack crossed the room in three long strides and swept the comforter aside, revealing a woman that had to be Addison’s mother. She was rail thin, with leathery skin made buttery brown by the sun, and hair a more natural shade of red than her daughter’s, a disheveled bird’s nest around her head and face. Her hollowed cheeks caused her cheekbones to jut out beneath her eyes, too prominent and sharp. She wore a tatty bra and panties and not much else; while Jack knew he should look away, he couldn’t help but notice how her collarbones protruded through her skin, or how prominent her ribs were. Her eyes should have been the same warm hazel as Addison’s, but an unfocused glassiness had stolen their luster. Her mouth hung open, but he couldn’t hear her breath.

“Micah, I think she’s sick,” he said, pressing his fingers to where her throat met her jawline. Her pulse galloped against his fingertips. “We should call an ambulance.”

“She’s not sick,” Addison said from the bedroom doorway.

He straightened and whirled, trying to block the sight of the woman from her view. No one should have to see their mother this way.

But Addison just leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest and giving the figure on the bed a narrowed glare. “She’s high.”

Frowning, he turned back to take a closer look at the woman on the bed. Sure enough, he recognized the evidence of drug use. The track marks running up and down her arms … the scabs between her fingers and toes … the needle still clutched in one hand.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” he asked, placing one knee on the bed to lean over her. He waved one hand in front of her face, but she remained unresponsive.

“You do whatever you want,” Addison replied flippantly. “I’m going into the living room to wait for her to snap out of it. I’m not leaving here without answers.”

Her footsteps vibrated across the thin floor as she left the room. Jack covered Addison’s mother’s body with the comforter once more.

When he returned to the living room, she just stood there in the midst of the filth, staring off into the distance. A toilet flush sounded down the hall, and Micah appeared once more, navigating the narrow doorway sideways to allow his broad shoulders room to get through.

“I gotta get out of here,” he mumbled to Jack, already headed for the door. “I’ll be back with food. Looks like we’ll be awhile waitin’.”

“All right, man,” he answered to Micah’s retreating back. Once his partner had left, he sidled up beside Addison. She refused to look at him as he stood beside her staring at her profile. They looked alike—Addison and her mother—though the woman in the other room had been reduced to a shadow of a person. Still, Addison hadn’t seemed surprised to find her in that state.

“He sure left in a hurry,” she said after a while.

Jack shoved his hands down into his pockets. “Micah doesn’t deal well with this kind of stuff … other people’s problems.”

She snorted. “You sure are cryptic. Someday, you’re going to have to explain all that to me. I mean, I’m guessing there used to be three of you … it’s the only way to explain the girl clothes at your place. Did he love her?”

He met her gaze and answered with honesty. “More than anyone else in the world. We don’t have to stay here, Addison. We can come back later when she’s … better.”

“She’ll never be better,” she replied with a shake of her head. “It’s best to catch her right after she comes down off a high, or we’ll never find her sober. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want. I can take care of myself.”

She sauntered into the kitchen, approached the sink, and turned it on. Locating a bottle of dish soap—miraculously hidden behind a stack of plates—she started piling the dirty dishes on the counter and making room in the sink.

He stood there watching her for a moment, his insides churning at the forlorn picture she made. Seeing her, standing in the dilapidated trailer, told him more about her than she’d doubtless ever be willing to say to him out loud. Even in her borrowed clothes and messy ponytail, she was beauty in the midst of all the muck. An iris growing from a crack in the asphalt. Remarkable.

He joined her at the sink, taking a soapy plate from her and rinsing it. She turned toward him, her eyes sharp and questioning though she remained silent

“Something tells me you’ve been taking care of yourself for a very long time,” he said. “You don’t have to do it alone this time, Addison. That’s why I’m here. Let me help you.”

She seemed to not know how to respond to that. Her gaze questioned and probed, also a bit awed, as if no one had ever offered to be there for her before.

He broke eye contact, going back to helping her rinse the clean dishes. Then, she returned to her washing. They worked that way together for the rest of the afternoon, the clinking of dishes and the sound of the broom over the floor the only breaks in the silence.

They’d scrubbed every inch of the trailer by the time Micah returned with pizzas.

His eyes widened as he faltered in the doorway. “Am I in the right place?”

His speech sounded slurred, and Addison could tell by the unfocused look in his eyes that he’d been drinking.

“We busted our asses cleaning while you were off getting drunk,” she accused from where she sat on the couch. She and Jackson had just settled in the living room with
I Love Lucy
re-runs when Micah came stumbling in.

He gave a lazy shrug and set the three pizza boxes he’d been holding on the card table in the kitchen. Settling onto one of the folding chairs pushed up to the plastic table, he produced a six-pack of beer and popped one open.

“Doesn’t look like I missed much.”

She curled one hand into a fist and fought the urge to ram it down his throat. The more time she spent in Micah’s presence, the harder the impulse became to resist. Jack’s hand covered hers in a soothing gesture and when she turned to look at him, calm suffused her.

How does he do that?

“Hungry?” he asked.

Standing, he offered her a hand up. She accepted, letting him pull her to her feet. She trailed him to the table and sat across from Micah. With no other chairs, Jack chose to stand, leaning against the counter as he opened one of the pizza boxes and slid a slice onto one of the now clean plates.

She shooed Gabriel, an orange tabby, away as she tried to force herself to eat. Coming back here had stolen her appetite, but she hadn’t eaten since that morning and the sun had started to set beyond the windows of the trailer. She’d just taken her first bite of extra cheese and pepperoni when her mother appeared from the bedroom.

Addison swallowed past the fist-sized lump in her throat, the slice slipping from her fingers and plopping down onto her plate. She took her time standing up, her eyes locking with a pair that had once been identical to hers. Over the years, Elizabeth Monroe’s eyes had lost their luster … as had everything else about her. She’d faded, blending into the background of her environment, as dusty and worn as the curtains.

“Addie,” she said with a sniffle, pulling a robe closed over her half-dressed body and belting it tight. “When did you get here?”

“My guess is sometime right after you injected yourself with your favorite brand of poison.”

Elizabeth lowered her eyes, having the grace to at least look ashamed. “If I had known you were coming, I would have cleaned up a bit … went to town to get some food.”

“The house is clean, Mama,” she said, a biting edge to her voice.

Elizabeth glanced around the small space as if seeing it for the first time. “Huh,” she mumbled as she came into the kitchenette. “So it is.”

She stood on her tiptoes to retrieve a carton of cigarettes from on top of the refrigerator, and slid a new pack free. She eyed Micah and Jack as she opened it and pulled a slim, white cigarette loose. “Who’re your friends? The black one’s cute. Kind of intense and serious-looking, but still …”

“Mama!” Addison shot Jack an apologetic look, but she could see he was fighting back a laugh. “That’s Jackson, and he’s a friend of mine. This is Micah and he’s … well, he’s with Jack.”

“Of course, he is,” Elizabeth snapped, her gaze darting back and forth between her companions. Something about the way she looked at them made Addison uneasy. “They’re partners, right? Guardians always come in pairs.”

Jack wrinkled his eyebrows. “You know about Guardians?”

Elizabeth laughed as she used the gas range to light her cigarette. “Know about ’em?” She reached up to the collar of her robe with one hand. Pulling it, and the strap of her bra aside, she took a long draw on her cigarette. “I used to be one.”

Smoke curled from her nostrils as she met their shocked stares with a knowing one of her own. Just above her left breast, etched against her leathery skin in a smooth, black scar, was the symbol of the Guardians.

The sound of her heart pounding filled her ears as her mind raced.

I used to be one.

Her mother’s declaration echoed in her head like a clanging bell, causing that familiar rush of emotion to overcome her. It was all too convoluted to sort, but she registered the distinct sting of betrayal in the midst of it all. Her mother had
known
. All this time, Addison had been going through life feeling like a freak, and Elizabeth had known about everything. She’d had answers and hid them, allowing Addison to go on thinking that something was very wrong with her.

“What do you mean, ‘used to be’?” Jack demanded, saving Addison from having to speak. As it was, she could do nothing except stare at her mother in disbelief.

Elizabeth righted her clothes and leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed as she took another drag on her cigarette. “Aren’t you cute? You must be new, honey.”

“I took my mark at fourteen,” he answered, his tone defensive. “And I’ve been working with Micah for the last seven years. You still haven’t answered my question. Guardians are born, and then choose to wear the mantle. As far as I know, there is no getting out of it. You are a Guardian until the day you die.”

“Unless you create a Naphil child with a demon,” Micah added from where he still sat at the table, beer in hand. “Ain’t that right, Liz?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I can see you’re not the smart one on this team.” She flipped her tangled hair over one shoulder. “If that was all it took, I wouldn’t be the only Guardian stripped of their powers.”

“Wait.” Jack frowned. “You were stripped of your power?”

She nodded. “So fast it made my head spin, but not for the reason you might think.” Seeming to remember that her daughter was in the room, she turned to Addison. “Since you’re with these two, I assume you know.”

Addison finally found her voice. “You mean about my demon father? Yeah, I’ve heard. When I first found out, I felt sorry for you. I figured you’d been tricked by a demon in human form who’d turned your head. But coming here tonight and seeing that mark on your chest … you’re a freaking
Guardian
, which means you knew about all this. Maybe you didn’t know what he was at first, but at some point, you had to have figured it out. You’ve known what I was all this time and you never told me!”

“Guess you don’t feel so sorry for me anymore,” her mother mumbled, putting her cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. “Can’t say I blame you, either. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but in the end, I just screwed you up more.”

Addison gestured toward the living room. “The truth, now,” she demanded, trying with everything inside of her not to lose it and start screaming and throwing things. Anger’s bitter bile rose up in the back of her throat, but she would not let the emotion overcome her. “No more lies.”

Elizabeth swept past her, heading toward the small living area and the worn recliner she always fell asleep in while watching T.V. Addison followed, plopping down onto the couch. Jack sat down beside her, his hand covering hers in gentle reassurance. She took a deep breath and squeezed his fingers, drawing on him for strength. It didn’t matter that she barely knew him; somehow, Jack’s quiet strength had struck a chord with her.

“I took my mark when I was eighteen,” Elizabeth began, fishing her cigarette pack from the pocket of her robe and firing up another with a lighter she found on the side table. Rocking back and forth in her recliner, she spoke through the bluish-gray haze of smoke surrounding her. “My mama was one, and her mama before her. The Monroe women have served as Guardians for as far back as anybody can trace. That’s how it works, the Guardian gene. It always goes from father to son, or mother to daughter. I tell you, I was proud—dang proud—to take that mark. My partner, Andre, and I were part of a group of Guardians responsible for keeping the witches and sorcerers in New Orleans in check. Sometimes, they get a little out of hand with their rituals and forget about the rules. That’s when we’d step in and remind them. If they didn’t submit, we’d dispatch their asses.”

Addison frowned. “Wait, I thought only demons could be dispatched to Hell.”

“Anyone who is possessed by a demon can also be dispatched,” Jack told her. “Witches and sorcerers sell their souls for their power, which places the mark of whichever demon they sell to on them. They can be dispatched by our weapons the same way a demon can. No one wants that, though … being dispatched sends them to Hell way faster than they’d like. Doesn’t matter, though; that fate can’t be avoided forever.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. “You bet your ass it can’t. Anyway, I was living in the Easy then, in a little apartment off the French quarter. It was fun for us, you know? We never took it seriously, at least not at first. Anyway, I was out walking one day and almost got run down by one of those mule-drawn carriages the tourists take. This tall, dark Creole snatched me out of the way just in time and I was smitten like a schoolgirl. Oh, he was real slick. Smooth and charming as they come. For someone who was supposed to have an instinct about things in the spirit world, I completely missed the signs. He had me wrapped around his finger in no time.”

“Did he compel you against your will?” Jack asked, his dark brow creased.

Was that pity?

She snorted in response. “I’m sure it would ease your mind to think it did, but sorry to say that wasn’t the case. I gave it up easier than a drunk sorority girl, and I was more than willing. Fancied myself in love with him … what an idiot. The morning after, I woke up to find Elle sitting on the edge of my bed. It wasn’t usual for an angel to concern themselves with my love life, so I knew I’d messed up.”

“They wouldn’t have punished you for making a mistake,” Jack reasoned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“No, and they didn’t. Elle told me the truth—that the man I thought I was head over heels for was a demon. Not just any demon, either, but the goddamn Great Duke of Hell. She told me I would have a child, a Naphil, and protecting her would become my new guardianship. Elle said he would try to come for her someday and that I needed to be ready. Well, me being so young and dumb and all … I decided that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t raise a child I’d made with a demon, let alone protect it for the rest of my life. Other Guardians got the hard jobs, but that wasn’t what I’d signed on for. I wanted to abort, but Elle told me that I couldn’t. She told me you were important, that from the moment of your conception, a plan had been made for your life. Well, you can’t exactly argue with an angel.”

Addison toyed with the frayed edges of the borrowed shorts she wore. “I always knew you never wanted me,” she whispered.

“It was hard to feel any maternal instinct, I’ll admit that,” Elizabeth replied. “You have to understand, your father just wouldn’t let matters lie. He tormented me from the moment I discovered I was pregnant until the day you were born.”

“Torment? How?” Jack asked.

“Visions, whisperings, temptation. You name it. Addison created a thread between us, if you want to think of it that way. He used it to torture me day in and day out. His voice was always in my mind, telling me how Addison would be his someday, and sit at his right hand in Hell. He told me that I was nothing … just a vessel he’d used to create his own personal army of Naphils. I was just one of many. Well, a person can only take so much before they crack. I wanted nothing more than his voice out of my head. I wanted to drown the pain.”

“Nana always told me that I wasn’t even a full four pounds when I was born,” Addison said, realization dawning. “You were pregnant when you started drugs.”

Elizabeth shrugged matter-of-factly, as if they were talking about Algebra, instead of the lives of two people. “I’m not proud of it, but that’s a fact. I won’t lie; I kind of thought it might kill you … a demon’s child, an abomination. If you died, then there was nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t have any hold on me anymore. But you were a fighter, even then. The doctors were baffled at how, but you flourished from birth and you beat the odds. Once you were well enough to leave the hospital, there was nothing left to do but bring you home. When I got there, Elle was waiting for me.” Her voice hitched a bit, and emotion crept in at last. A lone tear glimmered in one eye, but she blinked it away. “She said I was being stripped of my power because I’d tried to kill you before you were born … even though she’d told me explicitly that God had chosen you for some special purpose. I’d angered Him, she told me, and this was my punishment.”

“Yet, they still left Addison in your care,” Jack said, his voice laced with disbelief. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Who are you telling?” Elizabeth quipped with a dry laugh. “While I lay on the floor screaming in agony as Elle snatched my power from me, I comforted myself with the knowledge that they couldn’t mean to leave Addie with me now. I was powerless to protect her and strung out on drugs. Yet, when it was over, Elle just vanished. No word on what I was supposed to do with the baby. No further instructions. No promise to return. No one ever even sent a Guardian to protect Addie, which was odd. Naphil children are always protected by Guardians, even if it is from a distance. So far as I know, we were on our own from that day, and for the life of me, I was never able to figure out why.”

Addison ran a hand over her face with a sigh. It was all a lot to take in at once, and her head reeled, leaving her dizzy, like she might collapse onto the floor, buried under the weight of it all.