03 Reckoning - Guardian Read online

  Text copyright © 2011 by Laury Falter

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, 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 the prior written permission of the author or the publisher.

  First Edition: December 2011

  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.

  ISBN 978-0-615-58386-0

  For Babs – of course. Without you, this trilogy would still be rattling around in my head. Thank you for your unlimited support and confidence as Maggie and Eran’s saga was written.

  I love you.

  CONTENTS

  1. PABLO ALEDA

  2. HOME

  3. WELCOME BACK

  4. Fernando Vega

  5. François Gerard

  6. SUMMONED

  7. ASSEMBLY

  8. INVASION

  9. BARGAIN

  10. RAID

  11. THE IDEA

  12. A DEATH REVEALED

  13. SARAI

  14. ELAM

  15. ACHAN

  16. DISTRACTIONS

  17. INFILTRATION

  18. PUZZLE

  19. CAPTURED

  20. ERAN

  21. THE SEIGE

  22. FOR ALL ETERNITY

  23. THE BEGINNING

  CHAPTER ONE: PABLO ALEDA

  Juarez, Mexico

  I was being watched.

  I knew this for the last fifteen minutes as I bought a soda from a grungy storefront, a sausage roll from a street vendor with broken teeth, and then entered a dark alleyway.

  Here, clusters of men lined both sides, lingering beside the exits of various nightclubs, whispering within their respective circles.

  None of these men were the one following me. He hadn’t shown himself yet but he was there. The skin prickling at the back of my neck gave me undeniable proof.

  As I stepped around a pile of trash collected at the alley’s entrance, thunder rumbled overhead announcing a storm’s arrival. In response, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, as much for protection from the rain as from the prying eyes of the men lining the narrow passageway.

  My hood, a modern day cloak, was my greatest defense right now. I didn’t want any trouble with these men. I came to start trouble with just one and he wasn’t human.

  That didn’t seem to matter much to them though.

  I’d made it halfway down the alley before one of them stepped in to my path, grinning. He was shorter than the rest but with arms twice their size. This was a man who had seen the inside of a jail cell more than once.

  He squinted and ducked down to peer in to the darkness of my hood before his grin deepened.

  “Step aside and you won’t be injured,” I said not bothering to speak in his native tongue. I’d seen and evaluated him the moment I came around the corner, noting that the names of his tattoos were spelled in English.

  He twisted slightly at the waist and chuckled back at the other two men lining each side of the door they’d been hovering by. In an accent, thickened to project authority, he said, “Little girl’s got some nerve.” He turned back to me and said, “What? You can’t be more than fifteen.”

  I didn’t bother responding. My senses were already heightened and because of them I knew what was coming.

  The heart of the man directly in front of me was already beating louder. The sweat from the other two men had begun to seep faster in anticipation of their friend’s next move. From behind me, I heard the scuff of feet as bodies closed in on me, their shadows creeping higher along the brick walls on each side of the alley.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I stated again, more firmly.

  This announcement caused the release of several hissed chuckles and judging by their location I knew that I was now completely surrounded.

  Any eighteen-year-old girl, my true age, would probably have panicked at this point, eyes darting for the nearest exit, muscles contracting as her subconscious decided between a fight or flight response. And her reaction would have been completely understandable.

  With me, however, fleeing is never an option.

  I spun around with such speed that the ex-con didn’t have time to react. The heel of my steel-toed boot connected nicely with his jaw where I felt the resounding pop of it dislocating from its joint. My feet landed firmly on the ground again, my eyes already meeting his friends’.

  They advanced, with a slight hint of shock and fear that was quickly replaced with vengeance.

  Knowing I had little time, I propelled myself through the air and allowed my body to pivot, my legs loosening to form the same rotation as helicopter blades. From several feet above, the edges of my boots slammed in to the heads of the men at near simultaneous contact and they collapsed in a pile alongside their friend.

  I landed; my feet planting on the ground again, and drew a sigh.

  Staring back at the remaining five men crowded together, watching me, I asked resignedly, “So, who’s next?”

  They didn’t move immediately, and I could sense in them an uncomfortable patience as they waited to see whether anyone would speak up. Each one had seen what I was capable of and despite the impossibility of it they couldn’t deny it. My slight five foot tall frame had just taken down three ominous men in less than a minute and without so much as a quickened breath, and I was ready for more.

  Finally, one released a scoff but turned on his heel anyways and headed back for the street. He said something in Spanish that started with “crazy” and ended in a curse word which the rest of the men agreed with as they followed him out. Apparently, I wasn’t worth the effort and that was fine with me.

  They weren’t the ones I had come to engage.

  I knew that I was intentionally picking a fight by showing up in this city alone and that my follower, the one I was after, would be showing himself soon enough.

  No sooner had I acknowledged this to myself did I hear his voice.

  “Me…” he said, his heavy Spanish accent echoing off the walls just over the nightclub’s thumping, muffled beat. “I’m next.”

  I turned, narrowing in on his location the moment he spoke.

  At the end of the alley stood a man nearly the same height as me. He was shifted to one hip, relaxed and ready for what was to come. Muscles protruded from his dark leather vest and pressed against the thighs of his loosened jeans telling me that I was in for a good fight. The boots he wore had tips, glinting off the broken lamp head above as if they intended to tease me. His cowboy hat, titled low over his forehead, hid all but his sneer. All together, I had to admit, he looked imposing.

  “Pablo Aleda?” I asked cordially, though I already knew the answer. The hair at the back of my neck was prickling furiously, a clear sign this was the man I had come to find.

  His head tilted to the side in a mock gesture. He knew as well as I did that my question was needless. He felt me as strongly as I felt him.

  “Radar’s a funny thing, ain’t it,” he said more as an observation than a question. “Knew you was in town before you crossed the city limit. Knew it when you stopped in at Roberta’s fer directions.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Good burrito,” I replied offhandedly.

  He didn’t respond right away, taking a moment to judge me. “You’re more pleasant than they said you were.”

  Now it was me who tilted my head. “And what do they say about me?”

  “Feisty. Impatient. Good with the sword.”

  He’d left out one other trait, I noticed. I was also direct. “And you, P
ablo, are a murderer.”

  His chin lifted, the dim light exposing his face and the grin he wore. “I am.” He paused and then prodded me, “Guess I figured you’d know more than that about me.”

  “You’ve lived on earth for two hundred years, staying mostly to the Latin American countries. You’ve never held a job. You have no companions. Your choice drink is tequila. You prefer papaya for breakfast. You are excellent in hand to hand combat and lean towards this discipline when engaging in conflict. You returned to earth with the ability to sense danger from great distances. This, I believe, is how you knew I was here.”

  He chuckled lightly. “That’s good…but you did forget one thing.” Before I could respond thick grey wings stretching the length of the alleyway snapped out from behind him. The feathers were long and thick and the muscles beneath them were strong. “I’m very fast.”

  He suddenly leaned forward and soared towards me, his wings pumping forcefully to increase his speed.

  He hadn’t exaggerated.

  Instantly, I felt my sweatshirt tighten around me, making room for the extension of my own appendages. Moving through slits cut along the back of my clothes, my own wings sprang out just as Pablo reached me, the tips of them brushing the brick walls on both sides.

  I squatted and pushed myself in to the air, my feet grazing Pablo’s shoulders as he moved by me, beneath me, narrowly missing a full collision. My wings propelled me upward until I had room to circle back around and attack from behind.

  Then the rain came, hard and relentless.

  My wings, exposed to its onslaught, thickened. My feathers became individual weights holding me down as I struggled to stay aloft.

  It only took me a moment to realize I was in trouble or to notice Pablo was standing again, facing me, watching with a sneer.

  My landing was haphazard which humored Pablo, judging from his expression.

  Knowing I had only moments before his next attack came I retracted my wings and ripped the sweatshirt from my body. Hidden beneath was a black leather suit layered with small straps, and from those straps hung weapons of all types.

  In those brief moments, as the rain poured down around us, I became beaded with raindrops, something I was thankful for. It would make me slick and difficult to grasp and it was an advantage I would need if I was going to fight Pablo in hand to hand combat.

  When his assault came it was merciless. His hands moved in a blinding array, blending from one movement to the next. He had boasted speed and this was when he truly showed it off. I was just able to keep up, looking for an opportunity, an opening. Several minutes passed before it came. I took it and delivered a jab to the chin, with force beyond what even I was expecting.

  Pablo stumbled back, a look of surprise on his face, and then fell to the ground, his eyes rolling up before closing entirely.

  I didn’t hesitate, moving in for the final blow.

  Stepping over him, my gaze swept across the buildings, ensuring I wouldn’t be caught off guard in case someone intended on coming to Pablo’s defense.

  That was when I saw him, catching a glimpse from the corner of my eye. Still moving swiftly, I had already returned to Pablo before I registered who it was I’d seen.

  He was someone unmistakable to me. Someone I had dreamt about, ached for over the past weeks. He had lived in every one of my thoughts since I’d last seen him, an ever present memory teasing me and magnifying the void I felt without him.

  Standing on the corner edge of a rooftop overlooking the alley, facing me, was Eran.

  My head swiveled back.

  Less than a second had passed but there, high above where he had been standing, the space was now empty. Only the pounding rain could be seen.

  It was him, wasn’t it? I questioned myself.

  The figure’s shoulders were broad, his legs were long and his stance was reassured, confident. It had to be Eran.

  Time stood still in that moment, the only movement being the rain streaming down my face and down the hand at my waist that still held the handle of my sword. A deep, blunt pain throbbed in my chest, which I only vaguely realized was the exact location of my heart. The world around me fell away, my focus held entirely to that spot where I had seen my eternal love and was now willing him to return.

  A movement below me stirred my awareness then and without much thought at all I pulled my sword from its sheath, swiped it through the air, and felt Pablo’s head severe from his body. I did this emotionless, without any notion of victory or relief.

  Stepping aside, I allowed the rain to clean the steal, my face still turned up and locked on the rooftop. I didn’t move immediately, unable to will my body away from the spot where I had seen Eran. It had been too long and I wasn’t willing to let go of the memory just yet. Torn somewhere between shock, a deep yearning, and frustration, I debated whether it had been him or whether my longing for him had conjured his image in my mind. He wouldn’t make himself known if he had found me, I reasoned. He knew I had left him with a purpose that needed fulfilling before I could return. It was then I realized that Eran couldn’t have been here. I was a good hunter but, having had years of experience, I was an even better hider. I was impossible to find.

  “Shake it off,” I demanded quietly, though my eyes still remained on the spot where I’d glimpsed the figure.

  It was only after female voices drifted over the pounding rain did I recall where I was and that I was standing over a dead body. I glanced down to ensure Pablo’s wings had sunk back in just as the girls stepped in to view. With heads turned, they didn’t see my wings slip smoothly from between my shoulder blades, extend to their full length, and pump forcefully twice. I lifted in to the air, rising above the rooftop where Eran had been, and flew over the city towards the New Mexico border.

  A few minutes later, I was standing outside a gas station on I-25 paying an old man twenty dollars for watching my Harley Davidson. The unnerving feeling of seeing Eran was beginning to lift but I was still half-concentrating on the memory of him…or at least the figment of my imagination I had thought was him.

  The old man cleared his throat to get my attention. “Ground’s dry here, sky’s clear and the temperature’s agreeable.”

  “Yes, it is,” I replied avoiding a direct look at him.

  He took the twenty, slipped it in his pocket, and settled back in his seat, one that looked well worn and familiar with his shape.

  “Yet your hair and clothes are wet…” he continued. “Whachya do? Pick a fight with a car wash?”

  I chuckled softly to myself. “Something like that.”

  He watched quietly as I stepped on to my bike and it was then I got the sense he wanted to tell me something.

  “I don’t mind watchin’ your bike for you.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “Easy money. But makes me wonder when you leave it parked here, walk around the station,” he waved towards the corner farthest from the road, “and disappear.”

  I glanced in his direction. “You’ve followed me?”

  “I have.”

  Unsure if I felt unnerved by it or not, I asked, “And what have you seen?”

  “That’s the problem…I don’t see nothing. Nothing at all. You’re gone.” He made a whistling sound from between is lips, insinuating speed.

  I wasn’t sure how many weeks I’d been on the road, flatly refusing to pay attention since all it did was reinforce how much time I’d spent away from Eran. But the last two of them had been in the southwestern states and I’d used this man and his gas station as my base of operations, leaving my beloved Harley Davidson bike in his care a number of times. He’d been amiable but reserved; a perfect babysitter for my bike. He wasn’t foolish and from his perch on the front porch of his rundown gas station he didn’t miss much of anything.

  He was telling me in not so many words that while he hadn’t seen anything at all he still understood what he had seen.

  Very slowly I felt a smile spread across my f
ace while still wondering about his intentions.

  Then, very slowly a smile spread across his face.

  “What do you do out there?” he asked, sincerely interested.

  “Me?” I said thoughtfully. “I just clean the streets.”

  His smile returned. “I wondered if you might.”

  I enjoyed the old man’s approach to life, relaxed and nonjudgmental, but what I liked most about him is that he never messed with my bike or anything on it…including the most important item I owned. I unlocked this item from my seat compartment and flipped it open, the black leather binding creaking as I flipped to the page I’d last read. I took the pen from its binding and marked a red X from each corner to the next before turning to the following page.

  This one, as with all the rest, read like a police file. Each spread was a dossier filled with information and images of those who had been expelled from the afterlife for committing inhumane crimes. It was now up to me to eradicate them from the face of the earth. Among other facts, this book told me who they were, their strengths and weaknesses, what they feared, what they excelled at and, most importantly, where they lived.

  As the book fell shut, the old man asked, “Where you off to now?”

  “Well,” I said, replacing the book in its compartment. “Looks like I’m headed for San Francisco.”

  “Got some street cleaning to do there, ha?”

  “It seems I do,” I replied as I strapped on my helmet. “See you around.”

  “Doubt it…” said the old man.

  Though I didn’t mention it, I agreed with him completely.

  I’d already found each of the Fallen Ones within this territory. They had been simple to hunt and even easier to kill. But, I was now headed to the West Coast where I would find more dangerous enemies. Whether I survived them or not, I wouldn’t be returning to New Mexico any time soon.