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    Gladys the Guard Episode Two: Gladys the Guard, #2
    Gladys the Guard Episode Two: Gladys the Guard, #2
    Gladys the Guard Episode Two: Gladys the Guard, #2
    Ebook167 pages2 hours

    Gladys the Guard Episode Two: Gladys the Guard, #2

    By Odette C. Bell

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    About this ebook

    Gladys has too much trouble to tackle. And only some of it comes from her enemies as they leak further into town in their ancient quest to rule all.

    She has no clue where she stands with Max, but if she can't save Huddleston, she'll sit beside him in the grave. And if she can't find her true powers and rise to the occasion, the whole world will fall soon after.

    That's a tad too much pressure – but Gladys will just thumb her glasses up her nose, reach for another jam toast, and find the first thing to kick.

    ....

    Gladys the Guard follows a gaming geek and a hunky soldier fighting to save a sleepy town from mysterious creatures. If you love your contemporary fantasies with punchy action, plenty of wit, and a splash of romance, grab Gladys the Guard Episode Two today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOdette C. Bell
    Release dateJan 17, 2017
    ISBN9781386326205
    Gladys the Guard Episode Two: Gladys the Guard, #2

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      Gladys the Guard Episode Two - Odette C. Bell

      1

      Don’t hold back. Patreli widened his palms, stiffened his arms, and nodded sharply.

      I don’t intend to. Max swayed his neck from side-to-side, stretching the muscles, his eyes fixed on Patreli.

      No, you’re not the type, are you?

      Aye.

      Tiny drops of drizzle streaked down around the men as they warmed up their muscles, boots crunching against the gravel. The early morning light reflected off the dew-covered leaves and offered the barest warmth against the driving sea breeze. Several gulls streaked overhead, their cries carrying over the coastal headland.

      Max tugged at the bottom of his gray t-shirt and let his eyes track along the distance of the course. He’d been surprised when Patreli had asked for a little tour of the backlands. Sure, the military trained out here sometimes, but unofficially, just off-duty soldiers living in the town. There was no real, official reason for Patreli to have the slightest interest in this section of the woods.

      Was it just his imagination, or was something else going on here? Even as they’d driven up here, Patreli had stared out the window, eyes darting around like a hawk. He appeared to be scanning the terrain, seeking something out. Granted, he didn’t look like the kind who was ever really off duty. But from the way the corners of his eyes were pressed together, to the angle of his jaw – he looked like a sniper, a tracker hunting out his target.

      And now, as they prepared to set off along the forest’s edge, the man looked like the picture of a warrior readying for battle. His eyes stared out dispassionately as he stretched his quads. He was of formidable size but still appeared to be agile. The perfect combination, size, and speed, that is, if your criteria is deadly.

      Patreli shot him a look. It clearly told Max to stop sizing him up and to get the hell on with it.

      Where do you want to go? The track loops around, and you can head back down to the village at some point. We’d have to get back to the car, but that’s the route I usually take.

      Through the forest, Captain.

      Sorry?

      Is there a track through the forest?

      Not really, a couple of pretty overgrown tracks, I guess. Max stared at him. Was he serious? Did he actually want to cut through the forest? It was dense and the terrain rocky and treacherous. There were huge deposits of limestone in these parts, hence the great white cliffs that fell off behind them. Limestone meant caves, and caves meant soft, pocked ground. A badly placed foot could plunge straight through the bracken and into a hidden hole, and you could say goodbye to walking for six weeks.

      Perfect.

      I wouldn’t suggest it – soft earth, hidden holes— Max tried.

      I am familiar with the geological analysis, Captain. It doesn’t concern me.

      Max sighed, smiling away the bitch slap. Suit yourself. It is dangerous if you don’t know it, though.

      Patreli blinked, his expression cold, and he shrugged his broad shoulders. I would not be much of a soldier if I let a thing like danger scare me off.

      Max shook his head, letting out a low laugh. Who the hell did this guy think he was? What was he trying to prove? What was his game? Danger didn’t scare him? Sounded like the words of a bloody idiot if ever he’d heard one. You don’t go seeking danger out, especially when you don’t have to. Pointless bravado was an unacceptable risk to people in their line of work. They were expected, for the protection of others, to be at the top of their game. Breaking your leg on a morning jog was going to benefit absolutely nobody.

      Patreli turned from him, peering intently at the tree line in the distance.

      He was bloody playing around, wasn’t he? Patreli was no idiot; he was just baiting Max, trying to get a reaction. It was all some kind of test – by bringing him out here and challenging him to a race through the forest, he was sizing him up. Why? Short of tying him to a chair and beating it out of him, even though that probably wouldn’t work, Max was going to have to find out on his own.

      It was well-nigh time to find out who the hell Captain Mark Patreli was and what he was doing in this small fishing village in the middle of nowhere.

      …

      Gran? What are you doing?

      You have to learn to run, Gladys, this is the only way. Myrtle popped her head out of the car window, her purple curls tugged back by the strong sea breeze.

      Racing a car? That’s the only way to learn how to run? Gladys leaned down, resting her hands on her knees and raised an eyebrow. Are you sure?

      Positive. Myrtle pulled out from the side of the curb, throwing Gladys a jaunty wave as she headed down the road. First back to the house, remember that.

      The old Ford Prefect spat out a cloud of smoke and chugged off down the narrow street. On the face of it, the odds weren’t that bad. There was every chance the ancient car would never make it. However, her Grandmother only had to get across town, Gladys had to loop around the headland, through the forest and then cut across the fields before she could get home. All in all, a journey that should take several hours to Myrtle’s 20 minutes.

      She kicked off her back foot, pushing herself through the car park and onto the gravel of the headland track. Her arms pumped beside her, pulling her through the driving sea breeze like it was nothing at all.

      She sprinted across the path, her loose-fitting t-shirt plastered against her body as she flew around the corners. She drew in deep and even breaths, keeping her eyes wide against the stinging breeze.

      This was all part of her training, apparently. It was to ensure she could always run. It was her grandmother’s idea. If she’d actually ever seen one of those Sand Warriors, she’d realize such an act was pointless. Those creatures were absolutely built for speed. With their long, lithe limbs and low center of gravity, they could whip over any terrain at a deadly pace. Trying to run would only see a golden scimitar thrust into your back. But her grandmother had insisted. It was all part of her training program, a self-directed course in Sand Jackal ass-whipping.

      This was the first part of her physical training. And she was looking forward to it being over. She hated being exposed. In the last couple of days since her fight with the creature, she had barely adjusted to her situation. But she had been at home, safely tucked behind doors for most of it. Being outside, flagrantly exposing her powers, was nauseating.

      Myrtle didn’t see any problem with it. To her, it didn’t matter if people saw her sprinting across the countryside like she was running for her life. To Gladys, it was murder. What if Brittany saw her? What the hell was she supposed to tell her? Everyone in this town still thought Gladys was a pudgy geek, for heaven’s sake, not a track racer.

      A chill spread across her back as a terrible thought crossed her mind. What if she saw Max? She inevitably met Max out jogging. What if he came out today? What the hell would she do? He’d kindly pretended nothing had happened on that terrible night, had just mumbled a goodbye, and had walked back down the stairs. She’d melted on her feet as he’d trudged off, totally enveloped in shame and self-loathing. She’d stood there for a moment, then padded off to her room to kill herself silently. Not long after, she’d heard them exchange goodbyes and leave. Brittany had tried to climb the stairs but was verbally beaten over the head by Myrtle, and that had been that. That had been that.

      Over the next several days, as Myrtle had diligently tried to sort out her granddaughter’s mess, Gladys had played the moment over and over in her head. And no, it wasn’t the fight she kept repeating – it was the incident with Max. In a way, in a sick perverse way, it was good, really. The image of her gritty fight with the Sand Jackal had been completely replaced with that picture of his shocked face staring down at her.

      She pushed herself harder, streaking across the path as her cheeks flamed from the memory. Great, just great, she couldn’t stop torturing herself with it. Over and over again, how could she have been so stupid? How could she have let something like that happen? Was she cursed or something?

      There was no doubt in her mind that one Captain Max Angus Cook thought she, Gladys Stanhope, was an ugly, stupid freak. She’d been in her bloody knickers, totally exposed. He must have been revolted…. God, she hated herself right now.

      She vaulted the distance from the graded walking track onto the grassy knoll that led up to the edge of the forest. Her shoes patted across the wet grass as she maintained her frenzied pace up the steep, slippery incline.

      Her stomach clenched as the dense trees flitted past her. The darkened, dying leaves of the deciduous beeches and oaks floated around her like colored snow. The sunlight that penetrated the thick canopy overhead sliced along the path, illuminating her determined face as she crossed through it.

      The last time she was in this forest, her life had changed forever. She had almost died, almost been chopped in two by the gleaming sword of a magical warrior from deepest, darkest ancient Egypt. And now she was just going for a jog. Wasn’t that a little strange? Didn’t that seem a little unusual? Weren’t there other places to jog, other places not inhabited by supernatural beings?

      As she darted forward, her gaze swung before her, primed to pick up the slightest rustle. Without the dog, she didn’t have a hope of predicting the appearance of a creature. Gladys the dog was still tucked up on her couch, sleeping peacefully. She counted her lucky stars that Max had never gone into the kitchen on Monday. If he’d seen Patreli’s dog happily chowing down on leftovers, he might have had a word or two to share with her about theft. There were tiny blessings in her life to make up for the skull-crushing curses.

      She had to have her wits about her, had to maintain constant vigilance. There may have only been one creature, but somehow she doubted that. No, somewhere out there were more of those fiends.

      Her feet skidded along the bracken and detritus as a shout cut through the air. To her left, almost a kilometer away, a scream rang through the undergrowth. It was met with a snapped reply. That told her all she needed to know. Humans.

      Instinctively, she sprinted in the direction of the shout. As she covered a remarkable distance, almost floating over the forest floor as she leaped over logs and around trees, her mind caught up to what she was doing. She was heading toward screams, pelting toward them like she could make a difference. She hadn’t even hesitated, she’d just heard the shouts of humans, of people, and something in her had kicked off. It was the same feeling that had grown in her when Gladys the dog had run into the dark forest after the creature.

      But as she grew closer, her ears ready, trying to pick up any more shouts should they ring out, the doubts crept in. What was she doing? How was she going to help? She wasn’t trained – she

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