The Guardian's, Book One, Chapter Five

                                                      Chapter Five



      Sarris watched as the man, Gaden’s brother, rolled off of Michael and tucked himself into a shaking ball on the floor. But she didn’t have time to think about him, because Michael was flaying about, grunting in pain as he writhed and shook on the ground. She was at his side in seconds, her hands spread over his abdomen, holding him down as her fiery red healing glow spread over his body, her mind searching for whatever caused him so much pain.

      She could feel that it was centered around his heart. Dark magic had been placed on the collar and he had activated it when he’d broken it. Whatever it was, it was dark and powerful, and she had barely scrapped the surface, but at least Michael wasn’t thrashing out in pain anymore. She had him sedated, having blocked as many pain receptors as she dared without leaving his body defenseless to respond naturally to the pain, but she needed to get him out of here, somewhere where she could actually work on him.

      Gareth, Raj, and Blyth rushed down the ladder and crowded into the cellar.

      “We’ve got to go now. There’s more Crawler’s coming. A lot,” Gareth said to her as he rushed to his brother’s side. He pulled a smaller globe similar to the one in the library out of his pocket, and the other’s crowded around him without question, either touching him or the globe.

      Sarris placed her hand on the globe last, at the same time thinking of the mansion, with the profound feeling that she was destined to be here at this moment, destined to save this man. The man with the fierce blue eyes and red-blonde locks, who had the power and heart to wield the destructive force of fire. When the fire danced on his skin, it was the same dance of her healing red, gold, and orange light. He is beautiful, she thought as she looked down at his face, until the imaged shimmered and faded from her, and she was lost and flying, hoping she wouldn’t be too late to keep the light in those beautiful, penetrating eyes.



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      Whatever magic worked the globe spit them out in Gareth’s “office”, which was really a man cave. As color seeped back into the room, it revealed that the carpet was white and the four couches that made a square in the center of the room around a coffee table were royal blue. Sports highlights flashed across the muted flat screen T.V. mounted and sprawling across one royal blue wall, but Gareth took no notice as he and Raj laid Michael’s writhing body on one of the couches. Blyth and Gaden were laying her brother on the opposite couch.

      Sarris had her hands over Michael, the glow spreading over his body before they even had him situated.

      “What’s wrong with him?” Gareth asked the healer as he worked to block out Michael’s pain. Their bond was so strong, though, that it was almost impossible to block it all. “What’s wrong,” he asked again, but realized she was oblivious to everything around her except Michael. He could feel Michael calming, could feel his brother healing, so he backed off and let her do what she was doing. The fiery glow contracted in on itself, focusing over Michael’s heart, under Sarris’s guiding hand. He could feel her determination to save his twin, could feel the same strange drawing bond he had felt in Michael earlier.

      Logan appeared quietly by his side, as if out of thin air, as was her habit. She looked up, her bi-colored eyes locked on Gaden’s brother, who was laid out on a couch, exhausted. Her auburn hair slid back to reveal an unexpectedly pretty, young face. He knew what the others didn’t, knew why she hid her eyes, and hid her body behind long-sleeves and pants. She was scarred, inside and out, from her enslavement in the Shadows. He remembered carrying her bleeding body out of there.

      “His heart is good, but he has been through a lot. He has known much pain,” Logan answered his unspoken question quietly. She quickly cast her eyes back down, hair swinging forward as a shield once again. He knew she was remembering her own pain, though Logan was one of the few people who could block him out. Raj had also gotten well at it, he thought with a smile, quite soon after Gareth had found him.             

      Thinking of Raj, he glanced toward where the man leaned up against the wall, a position from which he could see both couches and their occupants. Raj was looking at him, as if he had been expecting Gareth to look his way. Raj always seemed to be a step ahead of everyone. The man motioned him over. Thanking Logan, he crossed to his old friend.

      “I’ve Seen him before,” Raj said so only he could hear. “Not in a vision, in a dream.”

      “Logan said he’s good,” Gareth informed him, but he had to ask, “What did you dream?”

      “It didn’t make sense to me. There’s him and a woman, standing on some kind of alter. He’s surrounded by darkness and she by light, and it was like the dark and light were trying to get inside of them. I got the impression they had to make a decision to accept it, let it in. I felt like the world depended on their decisions. The woman says something to him, then everything explodes into fire, and I wake up.” Raj said slowly, as if he were trying to remember it clearly.

      “Are you sure it was him? How long ago did you dream this?” Gareth asked, not knowing what to make of it. Raj would be the first to tell you the meanings of his visions were never clear, and nothing was ever concrete, because things were ever changing.

      Raj nodded, his expression more strained that usual, though he still held up his distant, unconcerned composure.

      ”I’m sure, it’s him. I’ve had the dream twice in the last two weeks.”

      “We’ll talk to him when he wakes up,” Gareth told him, thinking it was really the only thing he could do. Raj simply nodded, accepting, and they both went back to watching Michael.

      Sarris didn’t move from Michael’s side for another half hour. She whispered to him, things Gareth couldn’t hear, but he could feel Michael taking strength from the words.

      Blyth walked in, leading a young man over to him. The young man was perhaps seventeen, with golden hair cut short and spiked up in the front. He was dressed in a pair of loose, rugged jeans and a rock band tee shirt that stretched over his developing muscles. There was an air of confidence in his walk, and he held his head high as he strode across the room behind Blyth’s huge, hulking form.

      “Holden Alin,” he said when he finally stood in front of Gareth, holding his hand out. Gareth took it with silent approval from the boy’s boldness. He studied Holden’s face as he introduced himself. He was a handsome young man with his mother’s looks, a soft edge to his face that undoubtedly works wonders for the boy. But there was nothing soft in the strong grip as they shook hands or the sharpness in his brown eyes.

      “How long has she been at that?” Holden asked as he looked at his mother, who remained motionless. Gareth felt love and acceptance, both unconditional, as Holden looked at his mother, but he didn’t need to feel it. The love and pride that shown in the boys eyes plainly, unashamedly, was enough to tell anyone he would protect his mother to his grave. But there was also a deep concern and worry as he assessed the situation.

      “Going on two and a half hours,” Gareth answered truthfully, and felt the boy’s spike of quick alarm. He struggled against his desire to take care of his mom and restrained himself. Gareth remembered what Sarris had said about the boy being half demon. He couldn’t be evil, if he felt the kind of love he felt for his mother, could he?

      “She won’t last much longer, then. But neither will she quite until it’s done,” Holden told him, and he picked up pride and loyalty, tinged with worry.” Want to bring me up to date on what she’s gotten into now,” Holden asked, serious. Gareth looked at him for a moment, and decided the boy wasn’t much of a boy, despite his age and looks. So, he told him about the rescue, feeling like it was the right thing to do.



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      Michael’s eyes shot open and the first thing he saw was a glowing, beautiful angel. The angel whose sweet, soft voice had led him away from the awful, beckoning darkness. She had protected him, fought off the frigid, painful beast that clutched his heart. Then it all came back to him when she smiled softly, triumphantly.

It wasn’t an angel, but the next best thing. It was Sarris, the lively gypsy healer who had enchanted him with her soft beauty. She had saved him, fought the darkness for him, he thought.

      Her smile faded and he watched as exhaustion washed over her. He didn’t have time to think as she promptly crumpled, he just acted on instinct. Everyone in the room moved at once toward the healer, but he was the one to catch her before her head hit the ground. His body was tired all over, his brain felt like fish swimming around an aquarium, and he wasn’t altogether sure his jello-y legs could support them both, but he didn’t care.

      He scooped her up into his arms and walked her out of the room, ignoring all the questions that were flung at him. He didn’t hear a single one as he looked down into Sarris’s face. She had pushed herself past the point of exhaustion, all to save him, and now he was determined to help her as much as he could.

The closest room was a guest room. He shuffled her around, and opened the door with his hand, resisting the urge to just kick it down, which seemed much faster. He wasn’t sure he could keep his balance at the moment and he didn’t want to risk dropping her. Michael laid her in the big, plush bed; his eyes never leaving her face, and wondered what he was supposed to do now.

      A voice he didn’t recognize finally brought his attention up. A boy stood by his side and Michael knew instantly that this was Sarris’s son. The resemblance was kind of shocking, from the golden blond hair, to the brown eyes and soft edge. He was dressed like a normal teenage kid, but his sharp eyes said there was more to him than a handsome face.

      “She’ll sleep it off and wake up starving,” the boy said, giving him a little grin, like he knew something Michael didn’t. Michael didn’t care at the moment though. He moved and sat in a chair beside the bed, not saying anything. Truthfully, he felt too tired to blink, much less talk, so he just sat there like a lump. The boy seemed to understand. Michael heard him whisper something to someone, though he didn’t care to listen or look to see who. He wanted to keep watch over Sarris, but his body and mind wouldn’t cooperate. His last thought before he slipped into sleep was of the sweet voice telling him he was going to be okay.