Guardians

Guardians

Veronica Bennett

Copyright © 2013 Veronica Bennett.

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of Veronica Bennett.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Table of Contents

•History

•The Beginning

1.Strangers

2.The Trap

3.Car Ride

4.Only Dreams

5.Hide and Seek

6.Playground Games

7.Changing Hands

8.Around Every Corner

9.You Can Save Her

10.Know Your Enemy

11.Fighting Words

12.Playing Hero

13.Night Terrors

14.Revelations

15.Transition

16.Fire In The Air

Connect With Me

History

In the beginning everything was perfect, with nothing to rival it. As centuries passed one rose from within and began to corrupt the kingdom that had stood for millennia.

Revolt was brewing, and with it, an army.

The Guardians, an army of angels, were intensely beautiful and naturally powerful creatures. Their abilities were unmatched by any other. The sight of them brought rivals to their knees. The power a Guardian possessed was internal and unspoiled. They were the truest, most pure version of life ever created, and with that came undeniable responsibility. The Guardians kept order among their kingdom.

When word of rebellion came, the force could not be crushed. This force was led by one of the strongest reigning Guardians, Isaac.

Alone he chose to leave, and so he fell. Though the first, he would not be the last. They continued to fall, one after the other. Torment overtook them at the realization of their loss, but it was not relief they craved. It was pain. They’d learned to love the sensation. They fed off of it. It was all they knew, and after years it took its toll. These once extraordinarily beautiful creatures had become ravaged beasts.

Meanwhile, a new world was forming, and with it a new race: mankind.

This race was given the gift of humanity. They were capable of love, compassion, and empathy.

Though the Guardians’ power remained unmatched, the Fallen had grown strong.

The power the Guardians possessed was contained within them, and like a white light it streaked from their bodies, pure heat. Because this power was truly a part of them, its uses were as widely ranged as the mind could conjure. Now, in a time unlike any to be seen, it would be used as a weapon.

The Fallen, unrestricted by the rules that barred the Guardians, roamed freely in the new world.

With this new influence mankind changed. They learned to hate. They were introduced to pain, and they began to choose.

The Fallen had grown to a size that made up for their lesser power. They too possessed a white light, but this light struck with a force like ice; sharp and rigid. With power, numbers, and a newfound opportunity in the humans, they worked to form a living army and a world they could claim as their own.

The Beginning

Chaos surrounded me. The sounds filled my ears. Machines screaming, frantic voices, but only few I recognized, contorted as they were by my delirium. My body lay heavy against the thin mattress of the hospital bed. I could feel the points of each limb pinned against the rough sheets. As the minutes passed the weight increased, each point growing heavier, easier to identify. I closed my eyes, tracing the length of my body- following the weight to the tips of my fingers, to my toes, then to my neck-never returning to my head. I’d been lost there too many times. This practice became ritual. I needed to know I was still here, still whole.

Then one voice broke my concentration. Low, but clear, that voice spoke the three words I had worked so hard to prevent. We’re losing her.

More voices.

Panic.

I traced my body again and again. Breath reached my ear. I’m going to catch you Azalea. A hand touched my face and for a moment I could focus through the panic. Its frigid fingertips began to shake against my cheek, and then suddenly it was gone. I could feel the panic returning like turning up the volume on a radio. Before it could reach what it had been, the hand returned. Its frigid fingers no longer shook as the warm palm pressed to my cheek and traced the length of my face.

Before I could enjoy the peace this stranger brought me, I lost my hold.

It was like my body broke through the thin mattress. I fell, and as I did I began to lose more and more. The voices faded. The weight lifted. Like waking from a horrible dream it jolted me, but my eyes remained locked until those too became lost to me.

I fell without air. The drop had not created a single current. It was long and still, and then it was over. I hadn’t quite hit the bottom. No, I could sense it below me, but from what it seemed my body remained level as if I still lay on my back suspended here.

I lay like this for an immeasurable time. Then a current finally hit me and I found I could reach my body. Forced upwards, my chest rose. Then, released, I fell back against the bed. Again, I rose and fell. Sound assaulted my ears– machines squealing, someone crying-horrible piercing wails that made my ears ache–and I found I could open my eyes. The picture in front of me was beyond stomach churning, yet I could not tear my eyes away from it. In front of me, lying on that thin mattress I’d come to know so well, was my body. My head lulled to the side and I caught the bone-chilling stare of my own dead eyes. The body on the bed in front of me began to shake.

Pain hit me. Not the pain of watching the life drain from my own eyes, or even the realization that those horrible cries had been my mother’s, but a physical pain. Again, it struck me hard in the chest. I fell, my knees crumpling below me as the sensation spread through my body. Only when I saw the nurse holding the paddles of a defibrillator to my chest did I understand what was happening. They were dragging me back.

I could feel my vision escaping me and I fought against it. The second I realized I was struggling, no matter how beautifully pain-free it had been to stay in that state I had originally been horrified by, I lost my hold on it. Though my vision faded black, I could feel myself again horizontal and my body pinned immobile to the thin mattress. I traced my body once. Again my chest rose then fell. But this last fall was different, only my mind fell. A darkness caught it, cradling it, and it would be days before I could claw my way out of this hole.

***

I had died that morning and though they brought me back, it would be days before I could completely pull myself from the darkness and open my eyes to my crowded hospital room. Every day I traced my body and never again would I fall back into the hole. Instead I climbed above it, higher every day. In the passing days I would lose everything before that day. My memories faded into only familiarities. I could identify something without remembering why or how. The details would never return to me.

I clung to my memories of Chicago, my home, my family. I played them over and over in my mind for as long as my eyes remained shut. I kept some, but lost most. But there was one thing I lost that day that I would crave every day following: my freedom.

I was pulled out of school, my friends left, my entire life seemed to dissipate. My parents became crazed, never letting me out of their sight, and so I sat. I sat in my room, I sat in the yard and mostly, I sat alone. Barred from moving backwards and restricted from moving forwards I became stuck. I yearned only for a way to fill my days.

I’d once loved Chicago. I could drink the energy in. I’d spent my days on the street just watching the people playing a part. I’d put myself in their lives, and off of that an energy grew until the people themselves became my cards. I knew them. Everything about them was accessible to me with only a glance.

And then I’d died, and the energy I’d once loved I couldn’t come near. It was too strong. It hurt. And for all this I had no one to blame. I couldn’t even make myself want the life I’d once had. My parents knew no better. I wasn’t their first child to come in contact with this strange killer, but I’d been the first to defeat it.

I’d lost an older sibling. I never knew the loss. He was two and I was a mere thought for the future. He became a taboo amongst the family and for that I never even learnt his name. No one spoke of him. I doubted my younger brother Erick even knew he’d lived at all.

But Chicago, Chicago had lost everything it had once held for me. So I broke out and found a new Chicago, another side. I did whatever I could to steal back the freedom I’d lost. I smoked and drank. It wasn’t that I needed it, I didn’t. It was simply a way to escape. Escape the place I hated, and pass the days that clung to my back. My past followed me; an inescapable snare that had stolen my parents from me. They were lost, fragile, and completely inaccessible.

My life had flat lined.

A phone call tore everyone from the darkness where they hid.

It had been late the night the phone rang and again death was on the other line. But this death was my new life, an escape, and I jumped at it.

My new life would begin in Wyoming. In a little town named Chelsea, in an immaculate turn of the century six bedroom house on a property that stretched miles deep into the Shoshone forest.

I convinced my parents that this was what I needed, that I needed to start over. So without another thought we grabbed everything we could and left.

My brother and I started school. I had friends and a life. But the life that awaited me here, I could never have been ready for.

Chapter 1

I woke in the morning surprisingly alert. It was something I hadn’t expected. So with no chance of getting back to sleep, I propped myself up on my elbow, and gave myself a minute to adjust to the scene before me. I scrubbed at my eyes. I know I’d commented on Erick’s room last night, but jeeze, my room wasn’t much better.

I’d cringed at each creak of the closing door. It was late and although I knew Mom was awake, I hoped she was at least in bed. I peeked in the bedroom door taking a deep breath, I’m home… sorry it’s so late. I got caught up with Emily. We didn’t realize the time.

She smiled, It’s fine Hun. Were you alright driving?

I was ridiculous for worrying. I smiled, Yeah fine.

Good. She rolled over, Night Hun. I closed the door behind me and made my way across the house, growing more and more tired as I climbed the stairs. I wound my way down the hall passing Erick’s room on my way to mine. Being fifteen and concerned with nothing but gaming and television, he was wide awake sitting in his desk chair, feet propped up, eyes glued to the TV, whispering a string of profanities as some sort of massacre took place on his television screen.

I shook my head. His room was a mess. I laughed, then froze as he turned to face me only to return immediately back to the screen.

You’re a mess. What have you been doing?

Without even attempting to straighten my skewed clothes, I focused on the back of his head. My eyes narrowed in concentration as tried to simply pound the threat into his head. Open your mouth about this and watch what I do next. I made my way down the hall, relaxing out of my initial annoyance with Erick. If one person would ruin this for me, he would be that person.

Once in my room, I dropped my bag and jacket on my vanity chair and threw my shoes toward the corner of the room. They clattered loudly, and I flinched at the contrast between the racquet I had just created and the complete silence of the house. I just couldn’t get used to having tiled floors in my room. I had to stop throwing things.

I shook my head dispelling the images. As my eyes found the shoes resting in the far corner where I’d left them last night, I watched the last traces of last night’s memories fade into the room in front of me.

With my mom trying to organize our rooms and move in new furniture, my bed was now wedged into the corner of my room farthest from the door, under the huge eastward facing window.

A perk during the winter mornings… A fact my mom was quick to point out when assigning this room to me.

The real perk: your parents believing you were in need of intense recovery time, therefore all issues becoming inarguable. Needless to say I won…often. I almost laughed now as I sat staring at nothing.

My vanity, dressers, and wardrobe lined the wall that faced my bed. On the opposite wall was my closet, makeshift art studio, and desk. My door and pictures scattered the last wall. Caged in between those four gold walls, and on top of the pale tiles, was the mess that was once two ottomans, a small work table, and a vanity chair. It was now draped with clothes. Shoes dotted the floor, as did certain items that definitely needed a better home.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pushed my now matted curls out of my face. I tied my hair up and got to work cleaning. When my room was fairly presentable I went to wash my face before heading down the stairs into the kitchen. I was halfway through a bowl of cereal when I heard someone else on the stairs.

Morning Hun.

Hey Mom. She’d stopped at the base of the stairs to rake her eyes over me.

You ok?

Yeah … it’s really nice out. I gazed back out the glass doors toward the garden, which was for the most part how I had eaten my breakfast. I think I’ll run. Do you want to come?

Running had become regular since we’d moved. Chicago’s streets were too crowded and lurking with potential danger for my parents to allow me out of the yard. What a joke. Whereas here, given acres of uninhabited land, this became another one of those inarguable circumstances.

Hmm... I don’t know. I’m taking Erick to town to get him some clothes for school.

Ha! Have fun with that! she made a face and we both laughed.

Erick wasn’t one to take anywhere. The picture came to life in my mind as I moved towards the stairs. The little freak actually enjoyed staying home… locked in his room. He had no idea what it was like to be restricted from anything… restricted to the point to where your house becomes a cage. Staring out locked windows at the crowds of people until your father shut the blinds, closing off your only window to what little life you still held. And that was where I killed that thought before it could get out of hand.

Although we weren’t that far from town, it wouldn’t be a pleasant ride if Erick was in one of his moods. This was a big difference for me. I was so used to a five minute walk down the street to the nearest shopping center. Here in Chelsea, Wyoming, the nearest shopping center was forty minutes away in Jackson.

OWW! I wailed. Ughhh! Now, maybe, had I been paying attention to where I was walking, I wouldn’t have rammed my toe into the newly placed shelving unit in the hall. This is really getting old… I muttered as I glanced down at my feet which I’d expected to be covered in bruises, due to all the new furniture I’d been running into lately.

Back in my room I headed for the closet. I knew exactly what I was going for. In the back corner, hidden in a tomb of shoes, was my backpack. Brown leather, only three pockets, and a brass buckle to hold it closed. I held it in my hand pitying the thing, so worn down and limp. That backpack went everywhere with me… or at least it used to. It made me feel almost bad remembering how long ago it had been since I had last used it.

After feeding it my sketch pad, along with a few other odds and ends, I slung my bag onto my shoulder and headed back down stairs. As I passed through the kitchen I grabbed two waters off the counter and swung open the refrigerator, scanning the shelves.

I grabbed half of a sandwich I figured Erick had left from yesterday. As usual he’d made something, figured he didn’t want it, and tossed it back in the refrigerator. It looked OK though.

As I made my way through the kitchen I grabbed a banana off the counter and bag of trail mix out of the pantry, throwing everything into the bag.

I would have gone straight out the back door without another thought had I not caught sight of Erick’s face as he sulked his way down the stairs. He almost looked scared. I had to see this. How amusing, I mused. Here he is, fifteen years old, 6’2; and afraid of a couple hours in a department store. Give me a break!

Hey Erick, terrifying isn’t it? I called from where I stood.

What?

The thought of clean clothes… I smirked cruelly leaning back against the glass door. Clearly some of my earlier vehemence for Erick had not been completely smothered. I strangled it off and tried to readjust my face, but the smile crept its way back as I saw Erick turn for the garage door; disgust clear on his face.

Azalea! Mom scolded.

Sorry! Sorry! I held both hands up in defense. Without leaving her time to break into the rant that I knew was coming, I swung my bag back onto my shoulder and made my way for the door. Mom was still watching. Figuring from my appearance and our earlier conversation, she probably already knew, I didn’t bother explaining where I was going.

I stood with the door open I’ll be back around five. Okay? That would do.

Check in, she called.

Yep.

Be careful? pleading now.

Yep.

When we’d moved to Wyoming, we had inherited 5000 acres; part of which ran to the border of the Shoshone National Forest. Though I’d made my way through most of the area running closer to the house, I was curious to see what was out there. As I made my way across the porch and down the steps I plotted my route. I’d stay within property limits, but I wanted to make it to the edge of the forest. I started at a run through the cleared trail. There was nothing I hadn’t seen back here and although it was nice out and the weather wasn’t going to be a problem today, I didn’t want to waste time. The cool air rushing in and out of my lungs felt good and gave me energy rather than slowing me down. I ran for about two miles before I hit the thicker areas of the property.

Only a few minutes in something hit me, a sensation like a pinprick in my ears. Unable to ignore it, I slowed. I could hear the stream at this point and knew it wasn’t much farther. This was normally about how far I’d go. There was a small break in the forest; just a little gap where the trees thinned out enough to see down the stream and leave me a nice rest area. Closer to the stream the grass softened, thickening and leading to the flat rock surface surrounding the water. I made my way to my usual spot, sprawled out, and let the sound of the water lull my racing heart. After a few minutes I propped myself up against a tree and pulled out my sketch pad.

I doodled aimlessly until something that made sense came to mind. The picture came to life in my head as my hand swerved across the paper trying to keep up. There was a rustling in the trees a little farther off, but not close enough to distract me. The forest had been teeming with life on my way here and I wasn’t worried. It wasn’t loud enough for that.

The rustling continued a little while longer, but I pushed it off to the side; although it did affect my picture. Between the trees on my paper sprouted up a few small creatures. Once again the rustling picked up. As I concentrated I realized my error. The sound was off. It was not a sound distinct to a pattern. There was not a rhythmic crunch of leaves under feet, but a gust-like brushing. Though it lacked a rhythm there was a pattern to it. It would rush and then die. A rush…then gone. A rush… then gone.

A picture grew in my head. Whatever it was, it laid low to the floor, moving in sharp blasts kicking up the dried leaves and brush. Though I couldn’t place it, it remained far off. Maybe just around the perimeter I had just walked? I wasn’t exactly trying to soothe myself, rather decrease the annoyance of it all. I tuned it out and put on my headphones.

I hadn’t completely forgotten the wandering animal out in the distance. My inability to identify it had proven disturbing, so I checked. I removed one earphone to find nothing discernible in the distance. Scanning my surroundings, I took out the other and switched it off. As I moved to replace it, movement to my left made me jump.

I spun, my eyes meeting a pair much larger than my own: a deer.

Nice.

After I got over the immediate embarrassment, I grabbed my camera. Dad would love this one. My dad, a now avid hunter, prided himself on his ability to track down a deer. Even if he wouldn’t look at me, he would have to look at the picture.

I aimed the lens, but as my finger pressed down on the button, a sharp crack had my body flying around in another direction. The deer took off and my heart was racing at a pace that matched that of the camera, still rapidly photographing nothing but trees now.

I’d be lucky if I had gotten even one shot. The image of my dad, myself beside him, smiling as he held the camera, faded in front of me. My dad took what had happened to me the hardest. He spent most of his time with Erick, or alone hunting. He could barely look at me. Things only got worse when I broke out. Stumbling home, falling onto the floor after climbing back through my window, I would just lay there until I fell asleep. He found me one morning asleep under my window with my shoe on the sill. We barely spoke anymore.

As annoyed as I was, I couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness. I propped myself back against the tree waiting for my heart to slow. I sat staring at the ground unable to raise my eyes back to tree level.

Nothing to be afraid of, I chanted silently, nothing to be afraid of.

I had started sketching again without realizing it and glanced down. What I saw when my eyes met the paper, had me on my feet before my brain could analyze what was truly there. I threw everything back into my bag and sprinted back to what was left of the trail. I knew I had to slow down. The trail was thinning and I was following the marked trees at a pace not much slower than a jog. I was so unnerved that I found myself fighting the urge to just turn around and run straight home. You’re being unreasonable, I argued with myself. "It means nothing."

Unreasonable! Nothing! My currently less stable mental state, argued with the other.

You just drew eyes! Human eyes! My heart was still racing but the silence of the forest eased the panic. I grabbed the can of orange spray paint under