Immortalis: The Guardian

…

CHAPTER 1

Lina

I took a deep breath in and held it while squeezing my eyes shut. I wanted to focus solely on the simple act of letting the air seep from my body in a gradual stream, but when I grew lightheaded, my eyes popped open as I sucked air.

Standing in front of the white picket fence, I stared at the multitude of champagne roses weaving their hunter green vines gracefully through and around the fence. Soft hints of pink hues whispered from the centers of the blooms. Their petals covered the lush ground and rolled in a lazy dance with the warm summer breeze.

Movement in my peripheral vision pulled me from my stifled thoughts. I absently watched the swaying drapes in the neighbor’s window; the notion of someone watching me encouraged me to move along. What makes people want to spy on complete strangers? Trust me neighbor, there’s nothing to see here. With an unsteady hand, I pushed the gate open and entered. Crossing the large front yard, I followed along the slight s-curve of flat stones edged with pansies.

While I walked, I took in the view that the enchanting beach-style house afforded. The rather large home was not the typical box-style house; instead, it had a unique layout that caught the eye, making it esthetically pleasing. With its soft yellow siding and white trim, it held a happy, inviting charm. A bay window curved on the left and a large porch, complete with swing, stretched across the front. The main entry to the garage was on the right side of the house, but a quaint door between two beautiful stained-glass windows permitted easy walk-in access from the front.

I love this house. The ache that followed squeezed the air from my lungs. Love aside, I found it difficult to scale the steps and move forward to the front door. Despite that small feat, I stood motionless on the welcome mat and knew I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want to face the pain.

The air grew thick with heat and my skin moistened. Get inside, demanded a crackling voice that sounded much like nails dragging down a rough surface.

What? I jumped with a start and glanced around, but no one was there. Experience had my teeth bearing down on my lower lip to ensure I wasn’t caught up in a vision.

With the dense heat pushing at my back, I turned the key, squeezed the handle, and let the front door swing open. Bright sunlight beamed in from behind, catching the intricate cuts of lead glass on the door and scattering an array of color across the wood floor. I stood frozen, unable to will my legs to move forward.

The second hand on my watch must have clicked about a hundred times. How long have I been standing here? I thought. It’s ridiculous to prolong the inevitable. Just go in. Just take a step and go inside. The disturbing voice hovered on the hot air at the nape of my neck, Get inside, and a bead of sweat ran between my shoulder blades. It was enough to get me moving.

The first step inside yielded familiar smells and took me back to a simpler time. Off to the left was the parlor. Rays of sunlight streamed through the large front windows bringing a placid glow to the room. I leaned against the archway as cherished memories flooded in forcing my lips to form a slight curve—not quite a smile, as that had been long lost. I saw my own big brown eyes in the little girl sitting on the rug, playing with her dolls.

My breath escaped me when I saw Nonna, my beloved grandmother, walk in. Elderly but beautiful, my heart warmed in her radiance. Her skin held the wrinkles of age and experience, yet glowed with joy and inner peace. Her eyes were gentle and filled with kindness. There before me stood a woman of true goodness, all tenderness and heart.

She reached down and stroked the little girl’s face, my face, before pushing a couple of wavy locks behind my ear. The younger me shot a cheerful smile at Nonna then stood up and hugged her with all her little might. Aw, my sweet daisy, Nonna chirped as she planted a kiss on top of my head, I love you, Lina.

I love you too, I whispered. There was something indescribably perfect about my grandmother. Tears welled up and blurred my view. I blinked them away, not wanting to miss the loving memory of my Nonna, but alas, it vanished. With the recollection gone, the rays of sunlight reaching across the empty hardwood floor seemed to have dimmed in comparison.

This house belonged to me now … this, and everything in it. I would gladly give it all back if it meant having Nonna here to greet me as if this were just another visit, and not what it truly was: my inheritance.

Could I handle living here? Could I handle the expectation of Nonna coming around the corner at any moment, watching hopefully, only to be disappointed every time she did not appear?

My nerves tattered, I expelled a long breath and stepped out of the room; I was exhausted. After recovering from the vivid memory, I dropped my keys on the console in the hallway and caught my reflection in the vintage, rose-trimmed mirror on the wall. Suffering dandelions, I look exhausted. The only thing that gave me some semblance of color was the stark-white sleeveless button-up blouse I wore.

Stepping away, my eyes rested on a pair of Nonna’s worn, floral-print gardening gloves sitting on the table and my heart sank. Like Nonna, my visions had also vanished. The day of my Nonna’s passing brought a deafening silence on my gift of sight. I longed for the comfort the visions brought, the complete escape they provided, however brief they might be.

Most of all, I missed him and those onyx eyes that burned into my soul. Though he had been in my visions for as far back as I could remember, I didn’t know his name, nor was I able to focus on that small but important detail. I grew so used to his visits, there in the hypothetical realm, that I felt the fates would cut short my lifeline without him. A bit dramatic I knew, but couldn’t deny my true feelings.

Without realizing it, my hand pressed against my heart. There lived a deep yearning for this stranger, unlike anything I’d ever felt for another man. In truth, I could love no other while he held me captive in my mind.

Mercilessly though, my visions were lost and I received no visits from the familiar stranger and his hypnotic black eyes. I needed him now more than ever.

I ran an unsteady hand through my long wavy hair, contemplating what might have stifled my gift of sight. I could only blame my broken heart for blocking him from me. Whatever the case, the added silence played cruel and unrelenting on my misery.

Not surprising, my thoughts shifted to the creepy voice I heard outside, demanding I get in the house. I’d like to dismiss it as part of a vision, but knew better. There were none of the usual signs to announce the onset, nor had I had any visions for weeks now. Far too sad and tired, I had no desire to tackle the oddity at present and tried to look at the quirk in a positive light; maybe it was a blip indicating my visions were trying to return.

Forcing another breath into my constrained lungs, I turned from the gardening gloves and wiped a tear away. No, my Nonna was no longer going to comfort and protect me. She’d no longer be humming as she cooked in the kitchen; would no longer radiate the joy that once filled this house, the house my Grandpa built just for her. How he adored and loved her, through and through.

This house was home to me. I never knew my parents. They died in a car accident when I was just an infant and my grandparents raised me. This house had always been joyful, and filled to the brim with love. All that was bad and corrupt in this world seemed unable to penetrate these walls.

Dropping my purse on one of the chairs that capped the ends of the console, I braved a look down the large hall to the back door and my throat tightened. My thoughts whispered, not yet, as the hurt had me dodging the door, and instead, eyeing one of the remarkable oil paintings hanging on the wall opposite me—a painting my Nonna had done.

Being in this house again awoke something in me. Aside from the harsh reminder that I was completely alone in this world, there lingered the undeniable traces of him in the air. I had only spent three years away during college, having graduated early, and it was here that we connected the most. Admittedly, some of my visions were disturbing beyond words, but I would gladly tolerate them in the off chance of seeing him. His visits made the strange visions worth suffering through.

In comparison to the stifling heat outside the front door, the empty house seemed frigid, and with a shiver, I tucked my fingertips into my jeans pockets. I screamed internally for him, my dark-eyed vision, and my thoughts implored; please … I need you!

The mother of mercy took pity and a welcome pull tugged at me. A slight pressure filled my head as a quick silvery-white flash blinded me to announce the oncoming vision.

~ * ~

*** His sonorous voice rose from behind, heating my blood. Why do you distrust me? Do you not know by now that I am with you always? He moved with stealth-like silence. Only when I felt his touch did I realize where he was. I leaned back into him, letting him easily support my weight.

Tears clung to my lashes and I tried to blink them away. Can you not stay with me forever? I pleaded, turning so I could press my face to his chest. I couldn’t bear another separation from him.

He leaned down, touching his face to mine, and with fixed confidence stated, I can. The vision began to fade—no, not yet, I thought, stay with me. He grinned, seeming to know my innermost thoughts. The idea of him reading my mind made my shoulders tense, and his grin stretched into a smile. As the manifestation vanished, and a single flash marked the completion of the vision, I heard the fading traces of his rich voice, I will. ***

The image was gone, but my heart raced. Lost in amazement I stood perfectly still, not wanting to lose the essence of the vision that lingered. Illusion or not, he was so real. I wondered if I would finally get to meet the mysterious man that delightfully haunted my waking visions in such a splendid way.

Archos

I watched her as I had done for two decades. Peering through the sun-lit drapes, I studied my neighbor. Her hesitation was apparent and I found myself empathizing with her. It had to be hard, what she was going through. I traced over her familiar lines until it appeared our eyes locked.

I quickly straightened, causing the drapes to fall and sway back into place. Fool. Whether she saw me or not made no difference now, the movement of the drapes was sure to catch her attention. Unwilling to look at the source of my error, I focused on the floor and released a grunt. Snippets of grass lay scattered around my boots. I was finishing the lawn out back and had hurried to the front window to catch a glimpse when she arrived.

A basket of plump, ripe apples sat near my soiled feet. I looked back at the settled drapes and contemplated; I could give the apples to her. Decidedly, that would be pushing my luck, yet here I was, reaching to peer through the confounded drapes again.

Two decades. As I watched her, everything in my body constricted, warning me, but I could not help myself; I had to get a closer look. Stepping onto the porch, I assured myself it was harmless; I was just checking the mail.

In keeping with the innocence of my presence, I did a casual stretch. A foreign scent raided my nose and yanked my attention to the forest behind the houses across the street. With heightened senses, I crossed the yard, glancing routinely at my neighbor until I reached the mailbox. This time, I was in no danger of her noticing me; her emotions had taken too strong a hold to care much about anything going on around her.

Opening my mailbox, I waited with practiced patience, and whispered under my breath, Come on, Lina … get inside. As soon as she entered her house, I sprinted across the street and plunged into part of the thicket between two of the houses. The scent of moist earth and foliage filled the air along with the musky stench that had assaulted my nose. Scanning the dense, twisted forest, I found the source.

A gnarled, hairy man stood watching Lina. He had overly large brown irises, streaked with blood-red veins that reached out past the coloring into the yellowed whites of his eyes. Torment creased his sweaty features as ravenous hunger oozed from his salivating mouth.

I moved forward, ready to rid any threat, but stopped when a nonchalant sigh cut through the stillness around us. Our attention shifted from our own corresponding points of interest to a sleek newcomer, dressed all in black, who did little more than tread lightly to conceal his approach. Given his careless lack of concern, he might as well have approached while singing Figaro. I ducked further into the brush to stay out of sight from either of the men.

With an arrogant calm, the huge, hairy man turned to the newcomer, clearly amused by the irritation accompanying his black eyes. Lost? he snarled.

I am always precisely where I need to be, unlike you, retorted the man in black with derision.

The hairy man snorted curtly, turning his attention back to Lina’s house. Still more than several feet away, it was evident the man in black posed no real threat to the hairy peeping tom. Without looking at the intruder he instructed, You should work on your approach; I could hear you breathin’ before I smelt your purdy perfume, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.

From a distance, he replied, I wasn’t worried about my approach. The voice that had been several feet away was now right behind the hairy man, I don’t need to breathe.

Immortal filth!

A dagger plunged deep into the knots of the hairy man’s back and he shrieked. Coughing with gurgled astonishment, he crumpled to his knees, clawing at the air around him.

Following him to the ground, the man in black leaned down and croaked, And what does that make you? With repugnance, he wrenched the blade from his back, spattering blood as he shoved the hairy man face down to the ground. Standing over his kill, the darkly dressed man stared at the house across the street as warm blood trickled off the edge of his pure silver dagger.

My jaw ached from clenching my teeth, twenty years of quiet … now this.

CHAPTER 2

Lina

Although the apparition ended, the feel of his soft lips on my cheek, his protective embrace, and his colossal body unyielding against mine remained. His words, I will, echoed in the air, solidifying his intent. I shut my eyes and focused on the sensations, committing every precious detail to memory before they were lost. Thank you, I exhaled skyward.

There was no denying the unsettling truth—as his scent lingered, teasing my nose and taste buds—my visions were becoming tangible. The last traces vanished into the emptiness of the house, but that didn’t faze me. My visions were back. He was back. Even more reassuring, though, was this particular visit from him. He had been in my life for as long as I could remember and would remain with me … always; I had his promise.

I’ll be fine here, I assured myself, and braved a walk down the wide hall to the kitchen in the back of the house. With every step, the burning in my eyes increased, threatening an ambush of tears. I knew what lay beyond the back door; the one place I remembered Nonna in the most brilliant detail. We’d spent a great deal of time there and I feared the memories would be too much to bear.

Entering the kitchen, I could almost hear the fuss of cooking and laughter in the air. I went to the carved wooden door and grabbed the frame, bracing myself before looking through the glass. There … there was the heart of this enchanted property, a magnificent garden of flowers, trees, and herbs of every kind stretching out to display all of its glory and wonderment. Vegetation grew, waiting ripe for the picking and needed tending to, but my senses were not yet ready for all of its splendor.

My eyes followed the sinuous lines of a white marble bench nestled in the midst of the garden, and then up a large tree that provided ample shade before tracing over a dark figure obscured behind the tree.

Like thick lava seeping along the unsuspecting earth, the sight of the figure crept in and settled among my passing thoughts, scorching me with a sobering blow. I wiped a hand over the glass to remove the fog from my breath and looked again. No one was there, but that didn’t ease the scraping on my nerves.

Never had any threat hovered so close, breaking through what used to be Nonna’s safe haven. For the first time, I was facing the world and all its dark mysteries alone. What do I do now, Nonna? I choked, sliding to the floor. Anguish flooded up from my broken heart and spilled over, streaking my cheeks with tears.

I’d kept the tears locked in after the funeral service in order to keep the sentiments to a minimum. Nodding and forcing a polite smile was agonizing when no words seemed to help. Besides, I knew crying would only encourage everyone’s sorrow, because they too were mourning.

Now, however, I was free to indulge my suppressed emotions; I no longer had to hold back. The convulsive sobs ran jagged as I let go, sinking into the depths of my grief and letting the pain consume me. I needed this.

A loud knock sounded from the front of the house and my heart skipped, yanking me from my grief. A few seconds passed before I could bring myself to shoot a glance up the hall. Sweat daisies, the front door’s wide open!

Trembling, I reached for the knob and pulled myself up. I did a haphazard wipe across my tear-streaked face with my free hand and let it linger over my open mouth as I worked to gain composure. Judging by the excessive pounding in my chest, I doubted there was any chance of that happening; but otherwise determined, I set my shoulders and headed for the front door.

When I saw the light narrowly squeezing through the few available spaces between the huge silhouette and doorframe, I held my breath and bit my bottom lip. He could break me in two! How could I be so careless? He’s dangerous. He? That,—I mentally corrected—that’s dangerous.

My mind said casual but the wary, Hello, followed by a choppy inhalation—my lungs revolting at the crying jag cut short—said otherwise. I had the sudden urge to slam the door in his face and hide, as though he hadn’t already seen me … on the floor … crying.

My eyes grew accustomed to the light and he came into view. He was an incredibly tall, well-built man with broad shoulders and striking green eyes. His jet-black hair lay wavy in disarray, and judging by his damp white tee shirt and grass-laden jeans, he must have been working on his yard. His squared-off jaw, with its shadow, reflected the fact that he’d skipped a shave this morning. He produced a reticent smile; one side of his full lips hitching skyward as he reached up to run a large hand through his hair in a last ditch effort to make it look presentable.

The casual gesture and his manner were endearing, easing my nerves despite him not saying a word. Yet the twisting of my intuitive core proclaimed once more—what I mistook earlier for error—he is dangerous.

In no mood to entertain anyone, let alone an inconsiderate stranger that felt the need to knock on my open door after seeing me on the floor crying, I released an impatient sigh. My not-so-subtle hint had no impact.

His intent gaze made me feel like an ant under a magnifying glass and I looked down, causing my hair to fall forward. I pushed it back over my shoulder, all the while wishing I hadn’t made it quite so obvious he was making me uncomfortable.

Why didn’t he walk away when he saw me crying? He might have allowed me to keep some shred of dignity if he had. Apparently, etiquette and manners are something he painfully lacks. The sudden rush of irritation shocked me; this wasn’t like me at all.

The foreign annoyance rose up in burning waves biting at my nerves and I couldn’t take his silence any longer. Is there something you need? I cringed when my words sounded harsher than intended.

Yes, he glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to me, clearly unaffected by my tone. Good afternoon, he did a slight dip of his head, which surprised me, Forgive the intrusion. I did not mean to disturb you; however, I was working on my yard …, he indicated toward the direction of his house with his thumb.

My mind strayed as the peculiar irritation bloomed. Obviously, you were working on your yard. Does it matter? Please get to the point; I’m in no shape to be hospitable yet. The edginess built in the pit of my stomach and expanded outward with no hope of control. I had no idea where it came from. If someone were to ask, I’d say the assault came from an outside source, that someone imposed the crossness on me. I was swimming in the muck of aggravation and shame—even if he didn’t know what I was thinking, I knew.

Regardless of the shame, my forehead still tightened and I inhaled, ready to release another hard sigh, hoping that would speed things along. It was at that moment his words pulled me from my pitfall and a completely new sensation smothered the thick irritation. Like the sun peeking through dissipating storm clouds, I saw past the dark aggravation. I saw him.

… I know it is what Mrs. Cielo would have wanted. Numbed by fascination, I watched his full lips come together as the velvet cadence of his deep voice ceased. I missed what he said.

For the first time, I noticed he was looking directly at me and my eyes stayed locked on his. Flecks of crisp blue mingled with the green of his unyielding eyes. Sensing him reading me and feeling exposed by those beautiful eyes, I shifted my weight but his intensity never let up. I refused to let him intimidate me again. You’ll have to break eye contact first.

He blinked, and his long, thick lashes swept back up to reveal hazel eyes. Hazel? Did the lighting change? When I surfaced from my astonishment, I was no longer staring at his eyes, but at his lips instead. Toadflax! He won the stare-down. I wanted desperately to glance back up at his unusual, fascinating eyes, but fought the urge and settled on looking at his grin. No, not a grin, a smirk.

Worst of all, I had no clue what he said, and the idea of asking him to repeat himself was unthinkable. Trying to hide my error, I asked, Did you … again he looked over his shoulder, and I looked too until our eyes met back up, … know my Nonna? I couldn’t imagine what he was looking for; nothing was there.

His glances seemed more precautionary than nervous, given his inborn confidence, but they sparked my initial unease. I felt silly, but there I was crossing my fingers behind my back, hoping he wouldn’t try anything stupid. When that didn’t help, I gripped the door handle for stability. Then I tried to recall if I’d ever seen him next door—nothing. It was only after I caught myself wrapping a lock of hair around my finger that I realized he had me fidgeting and it was obvious.

He nodded and a hint of his crooked smile emerged. His straight, white teeth contrasted beautifully with his olive skin and I watched with captivation as he ran a hand through his shiny hair again. The curling waves plumped right back into their original place and his pointless effort tickled me. His smile had me straying from any insecurities or odd irritation, and it occurred to me that I was starving.

I did. She was a fine neighbor. I am admittedly a bit of a hermit, but she was always very kind to me nonetheless. He ducked out of the doorway, leaning down to pick something up. When he returned, his large hands held a basket of ripe apples. These are from her tree. His chin lifted to indicate toward the backyard. They sometimes fall on my side of the fence. I would return them and she in turn would make me a pie … not that I expect the same of you, naturally. He smiled timidly, But I thought you should have them anyway. After a moment’s hesitation he added, I am sorry for your loss.

Naturally. Other than his initial lack of manners, is there any flaw he possesses? Even his timidity seemed more for my benefit and less a reflection of him. I’d never met a person that conjured up so many emotions in me in such a short amount of time.

The scent of warm plump apples roused my senses as I choked back tears. Reaching out, I took the basket, too distracted to register that our arms touched. Thank you, I said, my mind fixed on his words, sorry for your loss.

Unable to restrain the hurt any longer, my eyes filled with tears. Between all the emotions he’d stirred up, and the memories evoked, my equilibrium lurched. Thanks, I whispered and closed the door.

Teetering back to the kitchen, I rounded a wall to hide away and slid to the floor. Grappling with all too much, I hunched over until my face met the cool stone floor and closed my eyes. My tears poured as the convulsive sobbing picked right back up where it had left off. In time, exhaustion took over and I drifted into a restless sleep.

Rays of light touched my closed eyes, causing a vivid red glow on the insides of my lids. I kept my eyes closed, basking in the sensations of the cool floor against my cheek in contrast to the toasty sun on my other cheek. The red waned for a moment before resuming its steady glow. Get up, my intuition warned.

I sat up and rested my back against the wall. The apples in the basket next to me filled the air with their sweet aroma while declaring … it really happened. Regardless of how I felt about the neighbor’s visit, it was nice of him to return the apples.

My intuition buzzed; someone’s here. I looked to the large bay window encircling the breakfast nook and wiped tiny beads of sweat from my upper lip as I moved to get up and investigate the backyard.

Stay where you are, a gruff voice insisted, the same voice I’d heard on the front porch when I returned home.

I glanced around the room, Who’s there? A bright flash and tug of a vision snatched me from the disconcerting reality.

~ * ~

*** He stood before me, ink-black hair with eyes to match, a striking contrast to his fair skin. He was perfection personified. Not a hair out of place, it rose strait up from his forehead and then smoothed back in a cool pompadour, longer on top with the rest cut short. His sideburns neatly transitioned into the well-groomed stubble that ran along his squared-off jaw and met up with his French goatee, which framed his lips beautifully. I want to kiss those lips.

My statuesque phantom blazed, easily casting a shadow on all the stars in the heavens, and fueling an unquenchable fire within me. I need to touch that man.

His head dipped so that he looked up through his angled brows. Revealing a cunning smile, he held out a hand, his look—intimidating. Although his flawless lips never moved, I clearly heard him command, ‘Come to me.’ ***

A single flash along with the wall pressing on my spine snapped me back to reality. Would this vision one day come to pass—as many often did? I experienced my visions much like a dream, submerged in the depths of them, unable to control the events or outcome. All I could do was sit back and let them play out.

He somehow summoned me in my head. I heard the command like a clear thought instead of spoken words, but the thought was in his voice, not mine. Come to me, I said under my breath. I would. If only I knew where he was, who he was, I would be with him now. Gathering myself up, I groaned in frustration; I didn’t get to go to him … not even in my vision. I must learn how to control the visions.

With apprehension, I glanced again at the window and around the room. It was easy to dismiss the shadow; it could’ve been a bird flying by, but the voice?

Hello? I said just above a whisper and tiptoed to the pantry. Swallowing hard, I gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly to keep from making a sound. When it came to a stop, I waited and listened. Inching the door open, the light took its sweet time entering the room as something whacked my shoulder. The door released from my grip as I jumped back and screamed, permitting a broom to topple to the floor. Sweet daisies, are you kidding me?

After checking the unoccupied pantry, I turned my attention to the culprit lying on the floor before picking it up and scolding, I nearly had a heart attack! Shaking my head, I replaced the broom to its rightful spot and closed the pantry door. I scanned the large room once more and added, Whoever you are, stay in my visions! as if that would help contain him. There was no reply, just the eerie feeling.

I wasn’t sure I liked the visions leaking into reality. All my life, the two had been separate. Certain signs always announced the start and finish to my visions, and whenever a vision did materialize, it was a full-fledged actuality. Hearing voices that didn’t remain within the confines of my visions was unsettling.

Enough. I had a lot I could do to keep my mind preoccupied and I intended to do so. Deep down, I wanted to go out and work in the garden, but the hurt in my heart warned that I wasn’t yet ready to face those memories. No, I’d start upstairs and get one room set up for my bedroom.

After a quick shower to freshen up, I changed into a thin, less binding pink tank top with dainty pearlescent daisy buttons. I slipped into a comfortable pair of jeans and was ready to get to work.

Careful to avoid Nonna’s bedroom and my old room since it was next to hers, I opted for a cozy room tucked away in the opposite corner of the house. The unique design had always been one of the many appealing features of this charming