Awakened (2 page)

Ten feet from the tree, I stopped. No eerie pale mass floated through the gold and orange leaves that fluttered to the ground. No transparent being, or whatever form spirits took, stood behind the droopy branches. I glanced around, my pulse an erratic rhythm at the base of my neck, but I didn’t see anything. And darkness was approaching fast. Not confidence-inspiring.

Over here,
the voice said in my head.

I jerked around to look, my breath caught in my throat, but there was no one there. A shiver shook my body, and the sharp edges of my amulet dug into the palm of my hand as I clutched it with trembling fingers. Swallowing, I moved toward the tree.

“Where are you?” I called out, proud that my voice sounded calm and strong.

Up here.

I moved under the tree, looked up and blinked. Holy smokes.

***

A guy about my age stared down at me with piercing eyes. I couldn’t tell what color they were, but with his flawless golden skin, chiseled cheekbones and sculptured lips, he could grace any teen magazine cover. Or maybe not. His arched eyebrows and shoulder-length raven hair gave him an aura of someone who couldn’t be bothered with something as mundane as a photo shoot. And the way he was perched on a branch, an arm resting on his bent knee and his back against the trunk, he looked solid. Even his skin glowed with life and contrasted with his black shirt and pants.

“About time,” he said in the now familiar, annoying voice. “What took you?”

My eyes widened. “Are you the ghost?”

“Ghost? Me?” Dimples flashed on his cheeks and his lips parted to show a perfect row of sparkling teeth. Then he doubled over with laughter.

I clenched my jaw. This was a terrible mistake. I didn’t know how he projected his voice into my head, but this arrogant guy couldn’t need help from me. I turn on my heel to escape my stupidity.

“Whoa. Where are you going?”

I glared at him. “Home. I didn’t come here to be laughed at.”

He gave an apologetic shrug though the corners of his lips still twitched. “Did you really think I was a ghost?”

Heat crawled up my cheeks. “Yeah. I heard your voice in my head. What else was I supposed to think?”

He frowned as though my response puzzled him. “That I used telepathy. Don’t you?”

“No.” I knew
what
telepathy was, but why should I use it? It wasn’t real, just a trick illusionists used to prey on their audiences. When Grampa worked for Stramboni Circus, he’d pretend to read people’s thoughts. And he’d make every trick seem real—stop a dove in mid-flight and make it fly again, he’d disappear from the stage and reappear somewhere else in the tent. Tricks of the trade he called them, yet the other performers could never figure out how he did it.

I studied the guy. “Are you
Kalderasha
?”

His right eyebrow lifted. “Are you serious? First I was a ghost, now I’m a gypsy?” He sounded insulted.

Annoyance at his attitude coursed through me. I put my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes. “Anyone should be proud to be a
Kalderasha
. We’re healers, alchemists, rune smiths and….” Why did I bother to brag to him? “Never mind. Who are you? And what did you mean you need my help?”

“Come up here and I’ll explain.”

His tone indicated that he expected me to obey him. In his dreams. And staring up at him started to put a strain on my neck muscles. I rotated my shoulders, trying to work the kinks out. “Y
ou
come down here and explain.”

He threw me a disgruntled look. “Don’t be scared of me, Lil. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You got that right.” I had nails and a whole arsenal of dirty, self-defense tricks Grampa had taught me.

“Arrogant little thing, aren’t you?”

“Takes one to know one.” And who was he calling little? I was five-nine. I needed answers, but there was no way I was scrambling up the tree and making a fool of myself.

“Chicken,” he said.

I squinted at him. “Are you listening to my thoughts? Because if you are, stop it.”

“Prickly, too.” In the blink of the eye, he disappeared from the tree branch. The next second, he was standing before me.

I gasped and took a step back. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” He sat, crossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, his expression serene. He pointed at the ground. “Sit,” he ordered.

I hated to be told what to do, but this time I obeyed. Up close, I could see the colors of his eyes. They were a dazzling shade of green too hard to describe. Emeralds were the closest thing I could think of. He was several inches taller than me and beautiful couldn’t begin to describe him.

I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to touch him and make sure he was real. “You were up there then you were down here. How?”

One perfect eyebrow cocked. “I teleported.”

I blinked in confusion. “Tele-what?”

“Teleport, move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. Something our people do instead of using unreliable human machines.” He threw a mocking glance at the RV Park, blew out his cheeks and shook his head. “You don’t use telepathy and don’t teleport. I cannot believe the lengths Cardinal Guardians will go to hide their true identities. Are you a trainee?”

I had no idea what he meant, so I shook my head. “No.”

He frowned, eyes narrowing. “You
are
the Granddaughter of Cardinal Psi Guardian Falcon?”

Cardinal sigh?

“Grampa is
Ares
Falcon not, uh, a Guardian.”

Relief flashed on his face, and he smiled. “For a second there, I thought I had the wrong Falcon. And your grandfather
is
a Cardinal Psi Guardian, no matter what alias he uses. Pretending to be a gypsy might be the perfect camouflage, but he’s still a Guardian. In fact, you can drop the act now, Lil. I’m one of you guys.”

This guy was delusional. I inched away, glancing behind me to make sure there were still people within screaming distance. “Listen. Grampa doesn’t use aliases. And he might communicate with spirits or Guardians, but he’s not one of them.” My voice rose.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, calm down. Kudos for having your story and sticking to it. I can’t imagine never using my powers or living like a nomad. So how old are you?”

I glared at him. “I’m not answering any more of your questions. Who are you?”

“Bran Llyr, nineteen year old Guardian-in-training at your service.” He bowed his head, but his twitching lips gave him away. He was getting a kick out of messing with my head. “And you’re…what? Seventeen? Eighteen?”

I looked older? Cool. I almost told him I was eighteen to mess with him, but I hated to play games.

“Sixteen,” I said and went back to studying him. The name Bran, unique and beautiful, suited him. I cringed. Was he in my mind? Did he read that? “The truth this time. How come you use telepathy and can do tricks. And what do you mean you need my help?”

He sighed. “I told you, I’m one of the Guardians, or if you prefer the old name, Nephilim.” He stressed his words as though talking to the village idiot.

Okay. It was never a good idea to provoke the crazies. I’d humor him for now. “What’s Nephilim?”

His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

I crossed my arms and locked eyes with him.

He scowled. “So this is a test to see if I’m one of the soul reapers?”

“Excuse me?”

“If I were after your powers, we wouldn’t be seated here in broad daylight talking. I’d be in and out of your head so fast you wouldn’t know what hit you.”

I blinked at the anger in his voice, my mind spinning with the things he kept saying. And hovering in the background was concern for him. Maybe
he
was crazy and needed psychiatric help. If I had a cell phone, I’d call 9-1-1 right now.

“Why do you need my help, Bran?” I asked and smiled so as not to set him off again.

He saw through my ruse and threw me a disgusted look, but his voice was serious when he spoke. “I have a message for Cardinal Falcon. Tell him that Coronis has found a way to open the gateway to Tartarus and release the Damned Ones. He needs to alert the Circle of Twelve.”

Tartarus? Damned Ones? I shook my head. He
was
delusional.

“You want me to repeat it again?”

That was it. Not only was he creeping me out, he was the most arrogant guy I’d ever met. I jumped to my feet. “Listen. You’ve confused Grampa with someone else. He’s not a Cardinal anything and he doesn’t know all these people you just mentioned. He’s a gypsy, okay?”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “All Cardinal Guardians make up an ancestry so the world doesn’t know who they really are. There’re just so many years you can live with humans before they notice you age a lot slower than they do, keep odd hours.”

Live among humans? I glared down at him. “Go to hell, Bran.”

His eyes rounded, his sculptured lips curling into an incredulous smirk. “Don’t you mean Tartarus? Hell is a human’s nightmare, not ours.”

I shot him a mean look. “Stay away from me. You need help? Dial 9-1-1. You want to talk to me, do it like a normal person. No more telepathy. I don’t know what spell you used on me, but you need to stop.”

He laughed, and was on his feet before I could blink. “Spells are nothing but mere
tools illusionists use to fool gullible humans.”

I growled and turned, almost tripping on the uneven ground as I stomped away.

“Lil?”

From his voice, he was hot on my trail. Panic surged through me. I walked a little faster. “Stay. Away. From me. ”

“Will you give him my message?” he said from behind me.

“Why should I? I don’t believe anything you’ve told me.”

“Why not? I use telepathy and can teleport—things only our people can do?”

“That doesn’t mean Grampa is a Cardinal whatever or one of the…the….”

“Nephilim. Ask him who he is, Lil. Who
you
are. Maybe then you’ll believe me and give him my message.”

I ignored him, wishing I could sprint away. But I knew if I attempted it, my shaking knees wouldn’t support me and I’d fall flat on my face. And I didn’t want the gorgeous, but crazy, Bran Llyr to see that.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why he’s been dragging you all over the country?” Bran asked, his voice deepening with frustration.

“Because he’s a true gypsy and wanderlust is in his blood,” I threw over my shoulder and picked up pace.

Bran passed me and walked backward, his gaze on my face. “Your Grampa is a Cardinal Psi Guardian trained to hunt down Hermonites or, as humans call them, demons. He needs to be on the move, and no group of people moves around more than circus gypsies.”

My loving Grampa a demon-hunter? No way. I stumbled, almost twisting my ankle in my haste to get away from Bran. “Grampa was an illusionist, the best any circus ever had.”

“And why do you believe that? Because everything he did was real, that’s why.”

Images of Grampa’s performances flashed in my head. No, no, no! “Stop. I refuse to listen to your lies.”

Bran shook his head, his emerald eyes flashing. “Think about it, Lil. Every time you move to a new place or he goes on a trip, are there weird things going on in the area? Unexplained deaths or phenomena? Electric storms? People acting crazy? Wild animals on the rampage? Little mayhems demons cause for fun?” He wiggled his fingers. “And do they stop once you guys get there?”

My heart stopped at his words. We moved to a camp outside Seattle one summer a few years ago where little boys were disappearing and turning up dead; in Louisiana when alligators started moving inland and attacking people. Each time, the incidents stopped. And I once caught a glimpse of someone who bore uncanny resemblance to Grampa on T.V. right after he left for work. It was a live feed from the Gulf Coast, just before a hurricane hit. We lived in Wisconsin at the time. How had he gotten there so fast? Teleporting?

Terror rose inside me like a tidal wave. I was beginning to doubt my own flesh and blood because of some strange guy’s rant. I stop and shoved my face close to Bran, noticing the sparkle in his emerald eyes despite my anger. “Enough! I don’t care what you say. Grampa is not anything except who he’s always been.” My voice shook so hard my words came out in spurts.

Bran’s expression softened. He reached out a hand to touch my arm. “Lil—”

“Don’t.” I jumped out of his reach. All traces of arrogance left his face, his eyes darkening with helplessness. I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He forked his fingers through his hair then shoved his hands in the front pockets of his pants. “At least give him my message. It’s important.”

“Why can’t you tell him yourself?” I snapped.

“I can’t. I’d love to, but I can’t.” His tone beseeched.

“Why not?”

“I can’t explain now.”

“Then I can’t help you either,” I yelled. “You could have easily used your telepathic tricks and told me that stupid message if it’s that important. Instead, you lured me out here to tell me a crazy story. You’re a jerk.”

His eyes changed, became hard. He gave me a brief, angry smile. When he spoke, he stressed his words and his voice was mean. “I brought you out here so you could tell the Cardinal that you stood right in front of me and I didn’t hurt you. Tell him that. And give him my message, Lil, or you’ll be sorry.” Then he disappeared in thin air. One minute he was standing before me, the next he was gone.

Panic threatened to suck me under. I didn’t try to locate Bran. I darted away, running full speed for the safety of the trailer park. At the edge of the compound, I risked a glance back at the willow tree. There were no ravens or Bran. Hysteria thickened my throat. What if Grampa had lied about being a gypsy? He always talked about Guardians watching over things. I’d assumed they were spirits, beings without form or shape. Could Bran be telling the truth?

I ran all the way to the trailer and locked the door behind me with trembling hands. I slapped my hand to my mouth and rushed to the bathroom, almost missing the bathroom bowl as the food I’d eaten earlier shot out.