Chapter Ten
That night fifteen years ago was burned like a brand in Angel’s mind. She would never forget the look on Dmitri Voronin’s face when he’d stepped back from her. It was like she’d hurt him emotionally, not just physically. Other than those few final words, he’d never had a chance to say anything more to her.
Gabriel had shown up then. His bullets ripped through the night, speeding past her so close that she felt as well as heard them. They were a warden’s bullets, bespelled with magic meant to hold a vampire immobile until a warden could decapitate them. But when they struck Dmitri, he’d already been affected by her poison and was off-balance.
The impact of the bullets knocked him backward. He took one and a half steps exactly before he was toppling over the bridge and into the dark and troubled waters below.
Angel had run to the stone wall, moving on auto-pilot and not really caring who’d fired the shots. She saw the white of a splash in the river – then nothing. Nothing but darkness and the wind and the sound of water rushing. In a few seconds, she heard footsteps running toward her, but she didn’t turn to see.
Instead she gazed long and hard into that wet grave. Was it really over?
“You’re hurt,” said a kind, deep voice. “You’re bleeding; he bit you.”
Angel remembered blinking slowly, languidly. “Yeah,” she’d said numbly. “He did. But he won’t hurt anyone ever again.”
The man who stood behind her said, “I’m afraid… that isn’t quite true. I only managed to injure him. He’ll survive the bullets and the fall.”
But she’d shaken her head. “No. I poisoned him.”
Strong but gentle hands had taken her by her upper arms then and turned her around. Eyes the color of amber searched hers. They were beautiful eyes, sparkling and vivid, in a handsome young face framed with thick black hair. He was so tall, she craned her neck to look up at him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone gentle. Those searching eyes kept glancing at her neck. She could feel her collar was wet. She knew she’d lost a lot of blood. Dmitri had been hungry for her and making up for lost time. He’d pulled her blood to him and swallowed with abandon. Angel wasn’t going to become a vampire; Dmitri had never had a chance to give her his blood in return. But he’d taken so very much of hers.
After donating a pint already to acquire the poison, Angel hadn’t had much left to lose.
She knew something had happened to her, maybe even something permanent, because of Dmitri’s attack. She could feel it. Her body felt wrong inside; she was aware of that wrongness on a molecular level. But the physical discomfort was being compartmentalized by a traumatized brain, and it was distant and shuttered.
Angel nodded to the syringe on the ground by her boot, and the man looked down.
“Hawthorn ash, colloidal gold, dead vampire blood, and a warlock spell.” She listed the ingredients off in a soft robotic voice that was growing distant even to her own ears.
She recalled the way Gabriel’s bright hazelnut eyes had widened in admiration, shifting from the syringe back to her just before her world began to tunnel black. Through that tunnel, she heard him say something and saw his expression change again, becoming devoutly worried. She felt his arms come around her just as everything went dark.
That was fifteen years ago.
That Saturday night had been the first night of her life as a warden. Gabriel Santiago had been second-in-command of the Vega clan at the time, and he’d taken Angel under his wing. It turned out the sovereigns paid wardens quite well fortunately, and Angel was able to rapidly rebuild her life, at least material-wise. She’d also been granted a sentinel.
That was a trip.
Gabriel had taught her about sentinels. Sentinels were magical beings, a little like guardian angels. They’d been created by the Storyteller to protect wardens in their dangerous jobs. Sentinels were an enigma. No one understood how they came into being. No one ever actually saw it happen. They only knew that once an individual signed on to be a warden, the sentinel was assigned to look after them. Just like that. It was as easy as, “I’m in.” And boom. The sentinel was theirs.
Sentinels had three main strengths and two big weaknesses. For strengths, they never took damage dealt by supernatural means, nor did they take damage dealt by wardens. Werewolves couldn’t claw them, vampires couldn’t bite them, wishers couldn’t enact revenge on them, unicorns couldn’t run them through, and wardens couldn’t pump them full of lead. This immunity allowed sentinels to enter into the fray of many warden battles, when and where they were needed. They could also transport instantaneously as if they were simply popping in and out of existence anywhere they wished. Anywhere. Not even a sovereign’s ward could keep them at bay. And most importantly, they possessed the ability to heal. As long as their warden still lived, even a wound that would have been mortal could be completely repaired by a sentinel’s touch.
However, everything had a weakness. Sentinels had two. One, just like any mortal healer, their ability to heal was limited. They could only heal sudden wounds, damage taken by any unnatural means. Nature’s particularly cruel damages – such as disease and aging – they could not touch. Also, each time they appeared, a sentinel could heal one person, and one person only. This was beyond frustrating for Angel, but admittedly more so for Darius because she normally instructed her Sentinel to use that power on someone else, someone she was certain needed it more.
And two, sentinels could only approach their wardens if they were called by them. Fortunately, this could even be a mental call; sentinels could hear their names spoken in the minds of their wardens from anywhere in any realm. It could also be a desperate call for assistance in general. But if they were not called in either of these ways, they could not appear and were prevented from aiding their warden in any manner.
The moment Angel signed the papers making her a warden, she knew she had one of her own. But she never called out to him.
The idea of someone watching over Angel frankly creeped her out. She had to admit that being stalked by a vampire probably had a lot to do with that, if not everything, and yeah maybe she should have taken Gabe’s advice and seen a warden-appointed therapist. But she’d always been stubborn first. Everything else second.
So the first time Darius had appeared to her was by accident. She was carrying boxes up the stairs of her apartment, determined to make it up three flights of stairs in one trip. Always one trip, never two. She hated making several trips. It was a pet peeve.
In her stubbornness, she’d piled the boxes too high. The top one slid sideways, she bent to keep it from going, and when she did she slipped on the marble step. Out of reflex she cried, “Oh shit, no! Help!”
Darius was there in a flash, wrapping his strong arms tight around her waist to steady her on the stairs. But she’d still flipped out and decked him because her instincts kicked in before her memory. He took the blow expertly, his head snapping to the side but returning with an amused grin before her wide eyes.
To her, Darius looked like a Greek god or perhaps Michelangelo’s David with slightly longer hair. He was beautiful; all sentinels were. They were perfectly symmetrical and technically flawless. Male or female, they were evenly proportioned, with strong, sculpted limbs and vividly colored eyes filled with a natural compassion and understanding.
Like all sentinels, Darius was replete with muscles. He had soft light blond curls that literally made him look like an angel. Cupid, maybe. Or rather, Eros. Apparently he had a sentinel twin brother named Ashrim who behaved like Eros. Even though Angel had never met Ash, she’d admittedly spent many a guilty night trying not to imagine herself sandwiched between the twins. And failing. Those were good nights.
Wardens were incapable of damaging sentinels, thank goodness. According to Darius, her violent reaction to his sudden appearance happened to a lot of sentinels the first time they met their charges. The beautiful man laughed it off, then insisted on healing her twisted ankle.
She hadn’t even realized it was twisted until he mentioned it. That was another cool thing about sentinels. They always knew exactly what was wrong. It was also annoying, especially if you didn’t want their help.
Now, Angel unlocked her Jeep, tossed the keys on the driver’s seat, and left the door open to lean against the side of the vehicle for a moment. She took a deep breath. The temperature tonight was nice, which it always was on San Francisco nights. There was a gentle breeze, and on it she caught the scents of coffee grounds, sourdough bread, and unfortunately garbage. City smells.
But it was peaceful at the moment. There were no sirens, no one was yelling or busquing nearby, and she could even hear the water lapping against the pier across the street. The night was calm and empty.
Not empty, Angel. I’m here.
Angel froze. Her heart stopped, then re-started a second later with a vengeance, bruising itself against her ribcage. She exhaled shakily, lifting off the car to step forward, her wide eyes searching the area around her deep and slow.
I wasn’t imagining it? Maybe she wasn’t going crazy. Maybe there was someone out there.
Oh yes, came the reply.