Guardian

  GUARDIAN

  BOOK TWO

  ABRA EBNER

  Text Copyright © 2009 Abra Ebner

  All rights reserved. Except under 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 publisher.

  Crimson Oak Publishing

  Pullman, WA 99163

  Visit our website at www.CrimsonOakPublishing.com

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

  Ebner, Abra, 1984 -

  Feather : A novel / by Abra Ebner

  www.FeatherBookSeries.com

  Summary: Love spans and eternity, at least for Edgar and Estella. As she fights to figure out her past, she finds something much more. There is a whole world of history about her and her complicated special life. Estella comes into her own in her first great adventure, in the life she was born to live, and die for.

  Printed in U.S.A

  PREFACE

  And though we find that the god’s creations were exiled to Earth, what they never expected was the revolt that could ultimately lead to a revolution. When cast to live among the humans, forever bound to a life of sadness and torment, the two halves prevailed, defying all odds and finding each other. Despite their need to destroy all they held dear and self destruct, the breed adapted to their challenge, angering the gods and creating a reunion.

  Horrified and driven by a jealous rage, the gods then set out to kill all those that defied them, finding their amusing game had turned sour. Deep in the roots of earth they forged a dagger, strong enough to kill their creations forever, leaving nothing but empty shells of the raven, servants that held no heart or soul.

  In their greed they ignored the simple fact that such a weapon could be used against them, their hearts too corrupt with power to understand their own demise. Among the gods creations on Earth they searched for a worthy soul, one so dark, that they could buy it with the promise of power, bartering with his greedy instincts.

  When the soul was found, they bestowed him with the dagger, outlining his task to kill and the fruitful future he was promised, that they never planned to uphold. When the soul received the dagger, he turned into no more than a rat, squandering all his riches, and killing all his friends, one by one.

  The gods were pleased with the success of their pawn, and as the divine race deceased into legend, they had all but forgotten the game of the human Earth, leaving it to self destruct in a manner that was unstoppable. As they turned their attentions away from their greedy crusade, the gods found that the Earth was now dying, the humans infesting the surface like a plague.

  Horrified, the gods ceased their previous plans, finding that now only a few of their divine creations remained, the only beings that could save everyone. Among those left was the first, the original prototype of their experiments, exponentially more potent and powerful than all the rest, and a proven force that could not be erased, despite their evil pawn’s efforts.

  In this they knew they needed to recruit her and though finding they were now locked by her wishes, they would not divulge her importance to her, keeping her power a secret and squeezing all she had left back to the Earth. Content with the new plan, they set it in motion, killing the evil pawn and taking collateral. This is where our story continues…

  GUARDIAN

  BABY STEPS

  The cold granite felt like steel against my head as I lay on the top landing of the stairs, pondering my next move. I took a few calm measured breaths, allowing my eyes to stay closed as my heart raced. I hadn’t ever gotten this far, not until now. The closest I had gotten to my room was yesterday when I finally laid one foot on the bottom step, and now here I was, at the top, my body trembling with fear and sorrow like a nervous idiot.

  Slowly, I began to draw my eyelids open like a curtain at a play. I felt the granite under my sweaty palms, my arms sprawled out at my sides and my legs cascading down the stairs. I rolled my head to the right, looking at the doors to my room with sad recollection.

  It had been nearly two months since I’d been back at the house, but I still couldn’t bring myself to go back to my room, to see what I feared would be a scene of sadness and loss. I had taken to sleeping on the couch in the sitting room, despite Sam’s attempts to encourage me to face the facts, and move on. He didn’t understand how this felt, he didn’t know what sorrow was anymore, or fear. He was dead, inside and out.

  I drew in a heavy breath and held it as it stung my lungs. Carefully, I rolled my head to the other side, my eyes falling on the doors to Edgar’s mysterious room, a place I couldn’t even fathom visiting. I had never seen it, at least not in my current recollection, but it still seemed like an imaginary place, a place that had never really existed.

  Although I had gotten my soul back when Edgar’s heart had ceased to beat, it hadn’t given me all of my memory. There were certain things that slowly trickled back, like my expert knowledge for chess, and of course my heightened sense of sight, and sound, but not my memory.

  I exhaled as I drew my head back to the center, staring at the gold leaf ceiling. I wrenched my tired body up as I leaned my chin into my hands and placed my feet on the top step. Dragging my fingers across my tired eyes, I heard the swift cutting of wings echoing through the large entry foyer.

  My hands dropped to my lap as I looked up, seeing Henry and Isabelle circle the chandelier and sharply dodge toward me. They landed on the top landing as their talons slipped, grinding across the granite like fingernails on a chalkboard. I winced at the shrill noise as they clicked their way back toward me with haste, each rubbing their head against my arm like cats often would.

  In the passing months, Henry had grafted himself to me as though he were solely mine. I knew he missed Edgar. There was a glimmer in his eye that was unmistakable and sad. He looked to me as his foster mother now, and that was definitely something I could relate with.

  I sighed with a heavy heart as I scratched them both on the head. This trip to my room was always destined to be a failed attempt, but I had at least gotten to the top landing. I looked up as my eyes caught the glimmer of something standing in the center of the entry. Sam was smiling at me as he stood there in angelic silence. It was frustrating that even I could not hear him moving in his soundless existence.

  “Wow, looks like you got pretty far today,” he half laughed as he said it.

  I wiped the sorrow from my face before he could notice, reverting back to confidence as I prepared myself to take on his sarcastic barrage of emotionless banter. “Thanks Sam,” my voice was sharp, but mused.

  “So why don’t you just do it, pour salt on the wound so you can move on? I know you’re stronger than this, besides, you keep talking in your sleep about how uncomfortable the couch is. And frankly, you’re boring,” he smirked.

  I pushed my brows together, “Do you watch me sleep? Come on Sam, that’s creepy.”

  He laughed, “Of course I watch you, it’s my job. And I like being creepy, goes well with my superhero image.”

  I pursed my lips and shook my head. It had taken some practice, but I was learning to hide my thoughts away from him. I had found a special room in my head that even he couldn’t penetrate and I was sure it was beginning to frustrate him. He was used to the minds of weak humans, so revealing. But I was more than human now, I was immortal, and my powers could somewhat rival his, though I still wasn’t as strong. At least my intelligence and sharp intuition kept him challenged.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, “No, I think you’re trying to read my thoughts. You c
an’t stand not knowing my every whim, can you?”

  He fidgeted with his hands as he held them behind his back. His wings were entirely withdrawn into his shoulder blades to the point that you would never be able to discern him from a human, other than the fact that his skin was cold as ice and his eyes were heavily shadowed in a light mauve.

  He finally smirked, snorting in a delicate manner which suggested he was guilty, “Maybe, I just like to hear your thoughts, makes me feel alive again. Human thoughts are so boring, what to eat, what to watch on TV, what should I do to poison the earth today. You on the other hand, your thoughts are fascinating.” His eyes suddenly lit up with joy.

  I narrowed my eyes even further, exhaling sharply. I pushed myself off the cold floor and stood as Henry and Isabelle trotted toward my bedroom doors. They stopped and looked at me as though urging me to follow, but I shook my head in defiance, “Not today guys, tomorrow, I promise.”

  They both looked at me as though telling me I’d promised them that a dozen times already.

  Sam snorted, “Yeah, that’s exactly what they’re thinking.”

  I turned my gaze to Sam. I had allowed him that thought. “You can’t hear what they’re thinking, so stop pretending you can. You can’t pull that one on me.”

  Sam shrugged, “True, but I can feel their emotion, and right now they seem pretty disappointed.”

  “Whatever,” I replied tartly. “You’re just upset that I can beat you at your own game, you’re such a poor loser Sam.”

  He chuckled, “Whatever.”

  I sighed as I darted across the top landing of the stairs to the shelf and grasped the Edgar Allan Poe notebook as though I were walking on hot coals. The thick old leather felt rough between my fingers as I bounded down the stairs as though being chased by the ghosts of my past. It wasn’t that I wanted to run away from reality, I just wasn’t ready to face it.

  Sam laughed again, “That was some serious Indiana Jones action there, very impressive, but you forgot to replace the idol with a bag of sand. Better watch out, some evil gremlin will likely attack,” he pointed to the stairs behind with sarcastic humor.

  I felt a sudden urge to punch him as my bare feet landed like an expert on the foyer floor, and in fact, that was just what I did. As my fist landed hard against his cold bicep however, I felt my fingers crunch and a sharp pain pulse through my arm as though I’d punched a marble statue.

  Sam looked at me with sly eyes, my punch no more than a brush of a feather to him, “Whoa there missy, better be careful.”

  I grasped my hand as it throbbed and stung. Glowering at him, I rubbed my broken knuckles in rueful silence as I molded them back to normal in slow gentle strokes.

  “I don’t get why you choose to inflict pain on yourself like that, time after time. I get the point, you resent me, but get over it, I’m not leaving unless Edgar releases my bond to you.” He paused as he smirked, my heart crumbling like rocks as he said his name. “And I don’t see that happening anytime soon,” he added, an extra twist of the dagger now stabbing at my guilty sad soul.

  I growled at him, “Shut up Sam.” My hand was feeling much better as I twisted on one foot and stormed toward the kitchen, a sharp angry beat in my step.

  He followed like a soundless ghost, “Oh come on Elly. I didn’t mean it. I’m not used to being polite.”

  “Well then get used to it. You’re acting like a monster, not an angel.” His comment still stung in my heart. Any time he uttered Edgar’s name it hurt as though the dagger had stabbed me instead.

  “I’m trying, but it’s hard to remember what feeling emotion is like. I still don’t understand why you chose to get your soul back. All it does is complicate things.”

  I plopped down on a stool and thumped my elbows down on the copper island, “Well try harder,” I spat.

  “Ok, let me make you some lunch. What would you like?” the desperation in his voice was working and I began to feel guilty, he simply didn’t know any better.

  “How about some sympathy with a side of comfort?” I smarted.

  “What’s in that?”

  He sounded genuinely confused and I rolled my eyes at him. You would think he could at least smell his own sarcasm being thrown back at him.

  “Just never mind.” I sighed, “Go in the upper cabinet, there should be a box of macaroni and cheese, just follow the directions.”

  He eyed me with an annoying smirk, I know he knew what I had been talking about, but he was a good actor. I only wished I had been so sarcastic and talented with conversation when I didn’t have a soul, maybe I wouldn’t be as miserable as I was now because I would have never come here, never met Edgar, and I could have lived on in my oblivious depressed darkness.

  The box made a dull jingling sound as he tilted it down out of he cabinet and the noodles shifted inside. I thought about my eggs and syrup and wished Edgar was here to make it for me, only he knew how. I was never much of a cook, and my appetite hadn’t really been great anyways. I was still sick over the loss and I wondered if the sinking feeling of sadness would ever leave. Often they say time heals all wounds, but so far, I felt as though my wounds were still gaping, gushing sadness and blood with every painstaking moment that passed.

  Sam eyed me with a knowing glare. I had allowed him the torture of that thought, letting him know how much I resented his attempts at filling the gap Edgar had left. Failed attempts, like eating sugar when you’re starving. There was an abrupt and odd look on Sam’s face and I analyzed it with discretion. I had never seen a look like that before and I almost compared it with real remorse.

  I was proud of myself. Fixing Sam had become a sort of pet project, no man should forget what he died for, as he had seemed to. I knew who he used to be, based on Edgar’s story of how he gave his life for a young girl he barely knew. I had never confronted him though. I was afraid of the outcome, afraid he wouldn’t remember why he was here and become frustrated. As hard as it was to admit, I needed him, otherwise by now, I would have already gone crazy.

  Sam was watching me with nervous eyes over the top of the box as he read each direction with diligence, extracting each ingredient and measuring it as though in biology class. Sam didn’t eat either, he didn’t need to. He told me he couldn’t taste it anyways, all earthly desires were stripped from him because of his duty to serve. Nothing must sidetrack him from that. But in my stubbornness, I was determined to change that idea.

  He had succeeded in making a pot of water boil as it sat very close to the flames of the fire in the kitchen hearth. I was amazed, even I had never succeeded and my mac and cheese was rather crunchy due to that fact. He looked inwardly content with himself, as though he’d accomplished something great.

  Maybe Edgar had been right when he said it was easier to be the professor than pretend to be the student. A professor led, while a student followed, and it was now apparent, more than ever, that there was no one left for me to follow. I had to face the fact that stepping up to my responsibilities was evident.

  I had thought about the college, wondered if Scott and Sarah were still there. It was mid-summer, so it was undeniable that they were there. It hadn’t seemed right though, to go back. What was the point beyond re-hashing hurtful memories and the doldrums of waiting? And for what? Death? Still, it hadn’t escaped my thoughts and I was formulating a time to go, just not yet, not now.

  Sam struggled with the packet of fake cheese sauce and I giggled in secrecy. He gave me an embarrassed and reproachful glare before tearing the pack nearly to pieces. He only managed to get about half of its contents into the pot before the rest spilled to the floor.

  “Don’t worry about it Sam,” I reassured him, surprised to find him upset and angry with himself. Maybe he really was becoming human again.

  His face changed from embarrassment to confidence, “Pfft, what are you talking about? I’m not embarrassed.”

  I could see the attempt to lie crossing his face and I chuckled once, looking down at the copper
counter and admiring my reflection. My eyes gleamed like small orbs of luminescent opals, reflecting in sharp rays off the copper and back at me.

  “Sam?”

  He looked up from the fire, his face pulled together with frustration over the result of his cooking, “Hmm?”

  “What happened that day, before I was taken? What did you see?” I had never been able to ask this question, everything else had come first, mostly the fact that Edgar was gone.

  “I saw you being stupid,” he replied in a blunt and cold manner. His amber eyes scanned my face, trying to pry into my thoughts.

  “Yeah but seriously, you saw the cat, right?” My eyes scanned his and I allowed him to see my thoughts, the blurred memory of the white cat and the vicious attack of the ravens.

  His face seemed to be torn, as though I’d revealed something painful to him. I realized it was a look of failure, failure because he had lost me that day in the woods and had let Edgar die. It was silly that he blamed himself for that, it wasn’t even his fault, but I could see his dutiful point. He had failed at the only thing he did well, being a guardian.

  “Yeah, I saw the nasty feline,” he spat.

  “What was it? Why was it here? Could you feel what it was thinking?” I knew how he could feel Henry and Isabelle and I’d hoped he had felt the cat too. He had to have noticed something.

  “I felt a lot of things Elly. There were the ravens first and foremost, but I suppose I did feel a strange muted undertone of something, but it was strange, as though a mixed signal. I was certain of the fact that it wasn’t normal, if you ask me.” He shrugged as he pulled the soupy noodles away from the fire. I watched as he contemplated over a plate or bowl, finally settling for a bowl after the sour expression on his face recognized the contents of the pot to be closer to soup than noodles.