Watch Over Me (Guardians Book 1) Read online

“Get Obel,” he ordered. Fear died in me a tad at his stern yet captivating voice.

  “What? Her blood is tainted. You must finish her,” the female implored, splaying her hands.

  “Go!” the creature above me demanded.

  The female huffed in irritation, then swiveled on her heels and leaped into the air, wings flailing rapidly as she disappeared into the dark.

  “I hope you know what you are doing, Lars,” the other male said before taking off soon after.

  Lars.

  Sirens echoed in the distance. The police. Someone had heard my screams and called for help.

  Hope sprouted in me a little. Perhaps I’d be saved.

  I gasped when the creature quickly lowered and swooped up my shaking body into his strong arms. He felt so warm and more than anything, safe. Nothing like a stone structure. He certainly didn’t smell like that either. I’d almost nuzzled into his neck to better inhale the pleasant fragrant and soothe my nostrils.

  I must be losing my mind.

  No way is all this real.

  “What’s happening to me?” I rasped out. “Take me…to the hospital.”

  “Save your strength,” he said, tone rigid.

  I swallowed and asked through my pain, “What are you?”

  Lars scoffed at my question then ascended from the ground. It felt like I was floating as he carried me in his arms.

  Before I knew it, we were on the fire escape of my apartment. He lifted the window, brought me inside, and gently placed me on my beige couch.

  The police sirens were still loud nearby. They were probably checking the area for evidence of a crime or even for the victim.

  “How do you…know where I live?” My throat felt parched. I was shivering like crazy.

  Ignoring me, Lars flicked on the light in the living room, giving a better view of his entire frame. Skin pale. Broad shoulders. Muscular arms. Just like the statue I’d seen in the park, except now, it was moving. Breathing.

  I grimaced at his unbelievable presence.

  He scanned the place before going to the kitchenette, grabbing a dishtowel.

  “This isn’t happening,” I whimpered. “Gargoyles aren’t alive. They don’t…speak.”

  “We are real,” he clipped harshly.

  A new set of pain racked my body. I sprang forward and coughed through gasps.

  Lars came over and settled me back on the couch. I cringed as he took off my jacket and pressed the towel to my wound.

  “Am I going to die?” Fear was crippling me. “Why didn’t you…bring me to the hospital? Or to the cops?”

  He stayed mum, watching me without answering my questions. His eyes traveled over my face, and a line appeared in his forehead as if intrigued.

  “Why did you save me?” I murmured.

  “I didn’t,” he retorted, stepping away from me. “But I still want to know why you’ve interested them.”

  “Them?” I asked on a ragged breath, holding the towel at my bloody shoulder.

  The wind rushed outside the window, blowing my sheer ivory curtains. Seconds later, a toned man who appeared to be in his early fifties with long white hair climbed inside. Even his attire was all white, including his fabric-looking shoes. He glanced at Lars and shook his head in wonder before coming to me.

  Nervous, I pushed up against the cushion when he lowered to move the towel to touch the bloody and stinging slice at my shoulder.

  “Calm down,” he said, then sighed as his grey eyes studied the area.

  “Who are you?” I gasped out when he lightly touched my skin. I was confused by him. He looked human, not gargoyle.

  “Obel.” Slanting to Lars, he asked, “Why prolong it?”

  “Something is different. The demon needed this one.”

  “Demon!” I shrieked, eyes going wide. “Are you freaking serious?” Coughing followed.

  Lars ignored me. “Obel, why do you think the dark beings would want this woman? He shadowed her all day.”

  “What…” My voice trailed at the confirmation. “I really was being watched.”

  “That’s interesting.” The old man scowled as he spun back to me. “Who are you? What’s so extraordinary about you?”

  I wobbled my head and told him, “I don’t know. I’m a waitress.” My body ached so much, and I was quivering from cold. “Please…what’s happening to me?”

  Obel scoffed at my question. “What’s your name? Your kin? Have you dabbled in the dark crafts? Humans are always so curious.”

  “What? No.” I coughed. “My name’s Calissa Stewart. I’m a normal person. I have no idea what the hell is going on. Who was that evil-looking guy, and what are you?”

  They both visibly tensed at my words, appearing offended.

  “You’ll be dead soon,” the old man said matter-of-factly. “If you’re lucky.”

  “What…” Fresh tears dribbled down my cheeks. Even breathing was beginning to hurt. “God.” I looked up at Lars and implored, “Please, take me to the hospital.”

  “Quiet now.” Obel slipped a hand into his pocket, taking out a small vial with dark liquid inside. “Here, drink this. It’ll lessen the pain.”

  I observed the bottle, then his tan and aged face. He motioned for me to accept it.

  “What is that?” I croaked out, wary.

  “I just told you. It’ll ease the pain.” He stretched his palm out and raised a thick grey brow. “Last chance, Calissa Stewart.”

  When I stared at Lars, he nodded for me to take the bottle. For some weird reason, I trusted him.

  Snatching the vial, I popped open the cap and drank the bitter liquid. Instantly, the level of pain simmered quite a bit. My shaking ceased. But I still felt exhausted.

  Obel stood and rubbed his chin in thought. “Strange how the change is taking this long,” he muttered, more so to himself. “Keep an eye on her tonight. If she doesn’t die on her own and changes instead, you must handle it, Lars.”

  I was too dazed to even react to the meaning behind his words.

  Outside, the police sirens grew faint. They were leaving.

  My vision blurred a little while I watched Obel climb back out the window. Wings flapped again until the sounds became distant and faded altogether.

  So, these gargoyles could appear human, too?

  Lars observed me for a few seconds before he flicked off the light in the living room and went to the window, blocking the moonlight with his body.

  I observed his towering frame, how his wings collected at his back, and the spear stayed in place by a tight strap in between them.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I heard myself say rather quietly.

  He heaved an intense breath. “Best to not turn into a dark one then.”

  No matter the harshness in his tone, my mind still felt at ease. I had this odd belief he wouldn’t harm me regardless.

  My eyes could no longer remain open. As I began drifting off, it struck me then that pain had left my body entirely. Perhaps I was already dying.

  2

  Biting heat on my cheeks forced my eyes open. Groggily, I eased up on the couch and massaged my arm and neck. They ached from sleeping in an uncomfortable position all night.

  It felt hot in the living room. I was about to get up and turn on the AC, but my body stiffened as memories rushed me.

  The devilish guy and those flying creatures.

  Gargoyles.

  Lars.

  The old man and the vial. Obel.

  Heart rate rising, I rushed to examine my left shoulder. There was no wound. Not even a scratch on my brown skin. Strange.

  I remembered the blade and the agony when it sliced my skin. The pain was real. I hadn’t imagined it. Right?

  Even crazier, I was wearing my nightshirt. The bloody dishtowel was nowhere.

  When did I change out of my clothes?

  Was it all a dream?

  From the corner of my eye, I caught movement at the window. I jumped up and walked over. Then nervously moved the curtain
to look outside.

  No one was on the fire escape.

  I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It was just another day with noisy cars and people in my neighborhood.

  “Morning, Brighton,” I whispered, then closed the window and turned on the AC to cool down the hot apartment.

  Afterward, I went into the kitchen to make something to eat. Vibrations caught my ears in the middle of taking out slices of bread.

  Is that my phone?

  I spun in confusion and glanced at my handbag, resting on the island. Didn’t I drop it last night trying to get away from that monster? How is it here?

  Maybe everything really was a dream.

  Snapping out of my thoughts, I set aside the bread and rifled in the bag, taking out my phone. I had a missed call from Shari.

  Brushing my tousled curls from my forehead, I called her back. “Hey, uh, either something bizarre happened to me last night, or I had the wildest dream.”

  Shari released a dramatic exhale before saying, “I didn’t get the part.”

  “Oh.” I went around the island and sat on a stool. “I’m sorry, love.” I massaged my temple as a headache began. “Did your agent say why?”

  “Yeah, they told him I wasn’t convincing.” She snorted. “I’m starting to think I should give it a rest.”

  “Shari, no successful actress had an easy start. Keep at it. You love acting. Don’t give up on your dream.”

  She crumpled something in the background and heaved a long sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Just feeling a bit discouraged right now.”

  Her low energy was evident in her tone.

  “How about an outdoor shoot for Instagram?” I suggested. “Maybe an outfit of the day post? That would cheer you up a bit.”

  “That sounds good. Want to take it with me?”

  I rolled my eyes and rested my elbows on the island. “Unless you’re going to chop my head out the pic, no thanks.”

  She sucked air through her teeth. “Fine. You’ll remain as my camera girl for the time being. But one day I’m going to do a post about you, Cal. I can’t believe you’re not into social media. What kind of a twenty-five-year-old millennial are you?” She chuckled after.

  “Pfft. One that’s into face-to-face communication. I’m not obsessed with my phone and social media like some people.”

  She huffed. “Whatever.”

  “Anyway, where do you want to meet and what time?”

  “In the square. At noon. Sounds good?”

  “Yeah. That’s a great backdrop.” I stood and returned to the counter. “I’m going to eat and shower. See you later then.”

  “See you, girl.”

  I ended the call and checked my email before making toast. After breakfast, I ambled into the bathroom.

  A thought occurred. My clothes.

  I arched over the hamper in the corner, raiding the dirty laundry for my midi dress and jacket from last night. None of them were there.

  “Huh.” I straightened and rubbed my forehead. Maybe that part was a dream, too?

  If it’s not, where the hell are my clothes?

  Taking a deep breath, I decided to forget everything.

  I showered and dressed for the day in jeans, a tank top, and flats. Combed my hair into a tight bun, and applied subtle makeup and lip-gloss. My skin had a bronzy tinge, glowing from the summer.

  Before heading out, I straightened my tiny but cozy apartment. A smile reached my lips when I stared at my beige couch, still grateful to have spotted it in the neighborhood with the sign “free.” One man’s trash was another man’s treasure. It was the right size for my space.

  While fluffing the floral throw pillows, I noticed a crimson stain on one of them. Scowling, I brought the pillow close to my face and ran my thumb over the spot. It definitely looked like dried blood.

  Turning nervous, I quickly rechecked my shoulder. I was beyond confused.

  Was it really just a dream? Why is there blood on the pillow, and how did I heal so fast?

  Knocking at the door startled me.

  “Calissa, dear?” Mrs. Crawley called out in her elderly and gritty voice. “Are you up?”

  My body relaxed.

  “Just a sec,” I replied and dropped the pillow back on the couch. Composing myself, I moseyed over to open the door. “Morning, Mrs. Crawley.”

  Her wrinkled blue eyes glistened as she smiled while handing me my mail. “They put yours in my box again.”

  “Oh, yikes. Thank you.” I took the letter from her feeble hand. “Sorry about that.”

  She waved it off. “No worries. Are you all right, dearie? You look troubled.”

  Suppressing the weird feelings, I managed a smile and replied, “I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

  A kind expression masked her features. “Of course. Stop by later, mm? I’m baking cookies.” She chuckled.

  Mrs. Crawley was so sweet. Motherly. She moved into the building around the same time as me and had shown more kindness than most of the foster parents I’d lived with throughout my life.

  “Definitely,” I said and lightly squeezed her shoulder. “See you when I get back.”

  She patted my arm before turning away and walking to her door at the end of the hallway. I sighed, noticing her movements had slowed in the last few months.

  “Hmm…” I closed my door and checked the letter she gave me. A reminder to renew a magazine subscription I’d never even signed up for. Should have known it would be junk mail once again. Nothing of importance ever came to me. Besides, if family services had any new information about my birth parents, they’d just call.

  I tossed the papers into the trash, grabbed my bag and phone, then headed out to meet Shari.

  Being that it was early Thursday afternoon, the square wasn’t as crowded. We took advantage of the natural light and spent an hour or so snapping a bunch of pics near the river without any added camera effects.

  I even took a few selfies of the two of us with my phone. Shari couldn’t be trusted to keep me off her Instagram should she use hers.

  When we grew tired of taking pictures, we strolled over to Little Havana restaurant and dined on the deck by the dazzling water. We ate lunch while viewing sailboats and a wedding taking place across the marina.

  Shari began scrolling through the pics on her phone, trying to decide on which ones to post.

  She looked lovely in her floral maxi dress and wedge sandals, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

  Both our makeup was light since it was a hot summer day. Shari didn’t need any, not even for Instagram. My best friend was a natural beauty.

  “This one?” she asked, showing me her phone.

  I stopped eating and looked at the picture where she had on her shades and was posing by the fountain. “They’re all great. I took them, silly.”

  She rolled her eyes and snickered. “Fine, I’m posting at least four and putting in the caption that I couldn’t decide.”

  “Sounds good.” I ate while she posted on Instagram.

  Out of nowhere, that odd feeling from the day before trickled over me again. But this time, there was no distaste in my mouth. It felt relaxing.

  I put down my fork, shifted on the chair, and peered around the deck. Not sure what I was looking for, but I had a sense of expectancy.

  A man caught my attention as the hostess sat him at the table a few feet from ours. Looking my way, a crease formed on his face. He narrowed his grey eyes on me as if trying to connect puzzle pieces. There was something familiar about him.

  “Ooh, that guy is shamelessly checking you out,” Shari mused.

  I swiveled back to her. “It’s weird, but I feel like I’ve seen him before.”

  She pursed her lips and squinted while glancing at him. “He’s still eyeing you. Maybe he recognizes you, too.”

  Hesitantly, I twisted and looked over my shoulder.

  Damn, he had his gaze locked on me, unwavering.

  “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Shari mu
ttered.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, being just as unabashed in checking him out. Indeed, he was good-looking with a chiseled, masculine outline, thick dark brows, and a slight dimple in his right cheek.

  There was something edgy about him. I liked his clean face, free of a beard, and how he tucked his sleeked, shoulder-length black hair behind his ears.

  My eyes traveled over his attire. Casual shirt and dark blue jeans. He was rather poised in the way he sat, back straight, and a hand resting on his knee. He definitely had a strange aura about him. Yet, I felt drawn like a magnet.

  Shari scoffed. “Okay, this is starting to feel creepy. He should either come over and say hello or stop staring at you like that. Geez.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, and I spun around and drank my lemonade.

  What is this feeling?

  “Are you okay, girl?” she asked.

  When I looked up at her, I noticed she had a worried expression on her face.

  “Yeah,” I answered, blinking away the strange emotions.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re off tonight, right? Have dinner with Hakeem and me.”

  Hanging out with the adorable couple could be fun, but at times felt like I was the friend who didn’t get the memo.

  I shook my head. “I’m still kind of tired after last night. Some other time.”

  She frowned. “All right.” A few seconds later, she perked up with a bright smile. “Has Kyle asked you out yet, girl? Did you even give him your number? Last time I was at the lounge, I could tell he was feeling you.”

  “No… I’m just not that into him.” I finished my drink and picked at the rest of my shrimp salad.

  “Why?” She crinkled her flawless brows, copper blush on her cheeks highlighted in the sunshine. “He’s a fine ass man, and he’s charming. Did he say or do something that turned you off?”

  A short chuckle gushed from my lips. “No, Kyle’s a nice guy. The feeling just isn’t there on my part.”

  Shari nodded, understanding. “I see.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, he’s leaving.”

  I twisted on the chair. The intriguing man strode quickly to the gates and hastened down the sidewalk.

  “Guess he wasn’t brave enough to talk to you,” she concluded.