Guardian (4 page)

* * * *

Claire walked numbly into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She twisted the lock on the doorknob then turned and leaned her back against it. Her heart was pounding as anger and adrenaline coursed through her body. She stayed still, listening for the footsteps she was sure would follow after her. Instead, she heard the springs in her couch groan under Roman’s weight as he sat upon it and the whispered voice of her mother’s goodbye as she quietly left.

Claire’s head spun with possibilities until she was nearly too dizzy to stand. Would she transform into what Roman was? Was this why she’d always chosen gargoyles to sculpt? Was her attraction to Roman because she was like him? For a reason she couldn’t explain, the last question bothered her the most. She’d always felt she was different, but then again, didn’t most people?

Claire didn’t know what to think, especially when the words that echoed relentlessly through her mind were
“I have never had an invasion that involved someone I cared
about.”
It was the one thing that seemed to keep her from falling apart. Roman cared about her. He’d been watching over her for years, keeping her safe from evil she didn’t even know existed.

Even her mother knew. Well, maybe not all of it, but she knew enough to warn Claire, which, in her defense, she had planned on doing before Persidian died. How had her life become so complicated?

Claire huffed out a breath and walked over to the window. The city was spread below her, dark clouds looming in the distance with a promise of rain. Claire chose one cloud and stared at it, letting her mind go blank. It was a trick she used before beginning work on a sculpture, shutting out the world so her creativity could run wild while calming her soul. The world outside became a blur of light and motion.

She remained like that until she noticed her vision darkening.

Snapping herself out of it, she saw one particular cloud seemed more willowy than the others. It shifted and swept across the sky, more like smoke than a cloud. Claire was being watched.

She was sure of it.

Yet her apartment was several stories up. Her eyes darted around; perhaps there was a fire nearby. When she brought her gaze back to the shifting black mist she realized it had moved closer still. The hair at the nape of her neck rose in alarm, her body tingling with fear.

Before she could react, a face formed within the odd black cloud. Skeletal features barely covered with a thin veil of skin looked back at her with empty eye sockets. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it disintegrated like smoke and then wafted under the frame of her window.

The stark realization that the Spirit had once again found her forced a scream to bubble in her throat. Claire was paralyzed, knowing she should move but unable to, her throat aching with the need to release the scream lodged there. She felt herself slipping away, giving in to the will of the Spirit.

Chapter Nine

Claire didn’t even jump when he kicked the door of her bedroom and it splintered open.

Roman crossed the room, his spiral-shaped blade held in his hand and a look of fury carved on his face.

He saw the Spirit as it retreated from her, pulling her body upward tightly as if the blade were sucking it out of her head.

This Spirit was stronger than the last, its form more defined as a large human male; and the harder Roman twisted the blade, the more it entwined itself around Claire.

Her face was sheet white and contorted in pain. Claire’s eyes were clouded but there was still a spark of determination shining in there. She was fighting it from the inside.

Her will was strong and she was refusing to give herself to the Spirit.

It was costing her though and she paled even more.

Roman pulled the second dagger from its sheath while transforming his hands into the lethal claws of his breed.

Grasping both blades with his thumbs and palm, he simultaneously thrust the knives into the Spirit while digging his clawed fingers into its sides.

The Spirit roared its shadowed head back and howled in agony as Roman used both dagger and claw to shred it apart. In moments, the only thing left of the Spirit was its painful shrieks echoing off the walls.

Claire collapsed to the floor in a heap, releasing the scream that had to have left her throat raw. He didn’t realize she was crying until Roman bent in front of her and brushed her hair from her face.

“Son of a Bitch!” he cursed as he plucked her from the floor and held her in his arms.

Roman’s body had exploded with rage when his senses picked up the presence of the Spirit. His heart nearly ceased to beat after he crashed open the bedroom door and saw the raw terror on Claire’s beautiful face. Her mouth was half open with a scream she couldn’t let out, her body stiff and tense as the Spirit overtook her. He was almost too late.

It was unforgivable.

Had the Spirit consumed Claire’s will before he got there he would have been forced to kill her too. The very thought made him ill.

On top of that, he had no idea how the Spirit had gotten so close to her without him feeling it.

Damn it! Where the hell was Gideon? He needed backup and he needed it now!

Gideon picked a hell of a time to pull a disappearing act!

As Roman brushed Claire’s hair from her face his heart broke once again. Her face was wet with tears; she was gulping in huge breaths of air and shaking so badly he didn’t think she could stand.

She melted into him as he carried her to the bed and sat down. He wasn’t yet ready to let her out of his arms and when she buried her face into his shoulder, he realized she wasn’t ready to be put down either.

Claire’s slender body trembled and small mewling sounds accompanied each exhale.

Roman slid his fingers into her hair and brushed the silky strands away from her face.

She took in a shaky breath and her lush lips curved into an attempted smile. Her green eyes were hooded and tears rimmed the long lashes that lay upon her pale skin. Her scent intoxicated him and it caused him actual pain to restrain himself from meeting her lips with his.

Before he could act on his impulse, Claire shifted; her delicate hands encircled his neck and pulled him to her. Her lips tasted like the finest of wine mingled with the sweet salty taste of her lingering tears. The kiss was tentative at first, a slight meeting of lips then a quick withdrawal. Once, twice, three times she met his lips before she opened her eyes and looked into his, searching for acceptance.

Roman twined his fingers in her hair, his thumbs caressing the side of her cheeks.

She was a temptation he couldn’t resist, no matter how hard he had tried to convince himself otherwise.

“I don’t know why this is happening,” she whispered.

Roman didn’t know if she meant the Spirit or the kiss so he remained silent.

“Will they always hunt me?” Claire pulled away and busied herself straightening her clothes and hair, her cheeks flushed with color.

Roman shifted Clair so she sat upon the bed then distanced himself. “Yes,” he answered solemnly. “News of your existence would have traveled far among the Spirits by now.”

She let out a shaky breath. “So what the hell am I supposed to do now? I have a life to live.” Claire stood and started pacing, the light of determination and anger back in her eyes. “I’m just starting my gallery. I won’t give that up.” She wheeled on Roman, stabbing a finger in his direction. “I will not give up my gallery!”

“I will keep you safe. I will help you open your gallery as long as you promise not to go anywhere without me.” The words followed Roman’s defeated sigh. He was not accustomed to associating with humans. His job was to observe, remain in the shadows and protect discreetly. This would not be easy on him but he could see that Claire would not be swayed.

“Anywhere?”

“I cannot guarantee your safety if I am not with you,” he insisted.

“And how am I supposed to explain you to my friends, to everyone?”

“Tell them I am your bodyguard.”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Claire quipped sarcastically. “Everyone has a bodyguard following them around all day. They’ll want to know why.” She sucked in her bottom lip in thought.

“Tell them I am your lover.” He smiled.

Her head snapped up and her cheeks once again flushed pink. He could see the wheels of her mind spinning, the silence hung awkward between them until she nodded.

“Yes, you're right. But let’s stick with boyfriend, not lover.” He shrugged. “The terminology does not matter to me.”

“Fine.” She glanced at the clock behind him. “Oh my gosh! I’m going to be late.”
Chapter Ten

Claire nervously shook her foot the entire car ride to the small shop she’d rented for her gallery. She filled Roman in on the details of the gallery in case, Margaret, the real estate agent she was to sign papers with, asked him any questions. It would be hard to convince her friends Roman was her boyfriend if they couldn’t even pull it off in front of someone she barely knew.

But it definitely wouldn’t be hard to prove the chemistry between them. Her kiss with Roman had left her boneless, and more than a little flushed. She darted her tongue out slightly to capture his taste, still upon her lips, and felt a warm ball of passion form low in her stomach.

She brought herself back to the here and now as they turned the corner.

The street was nicely lined with tidy glass-front shops, the windows of each arranged with everything from clothing to home decor.
It’s a good street for my gallery
. A small section of town where both locals and tourists strolled down the southwestern-themed street to either browse through the variety of stores or simply take in a meal on the patio of a small, but popular, restaurant.

Claire bolted out of the car and excitedly walked to the storefront that would soon be filled with her sculptures, and, if everything went as planned she’d also showcase the work of some other local artists.

Roman’s hand on her arm stopped her from pulling open the door. Claire looked up at him.

“Right,” she took a step back, “you first.” This bodyguard/boyfriend thing was going to take some getting used to.

The door was unlocked but a quick look around the room revealed no one was there.

Roman flashed her an annoyed look when she burst into the room before he gave the all clear.

“This is where I’m going to set up the register,” she indicated a corner of the small front room, “and the glass showcases will line this entire wall.” She could envision it all.

“I’ll set up a workroom back here,” she moved toward the back then startled as a shadow of a man filled the doorway before her.

Without a moment of hesitation, Roman jumped between her and the shadowy figure, his fist flying and making contact with the man’s jaw even as his other hand pulled the spiral blade from its sheath.

It took Claire a second to realize the man was an associate of Margaret’s.

“Stop!” she yelled, horrified as Earl Harbinger tried to free himself from Roman’s grasp. “I know him!” She grabbed onto Roman’s arm. “He works with my realtor.” Roman used one arm to sweep her behind him protectively then froze Earl with Persuasion.

“Are you sure?” he growled.

“Yes, yes. Oh my gosh, look what you’ve done to him!” Earl Harbinger’s shirt was clutched in Roman’s fist. His face was already starting to bruise and a trail of blood flowed from his nose.

Roman watched him carefully, looking for any sign he was Host for a Spirit. When he was apparently convinced Earl was not a threat, he used Persuasion to convince the man he had slipped and fallen, hitting his head upon the counter.

“He won’t remember this,” Roman assured Claire. “He’ll think he fell. That is all.” Before she could respond he released Earl. The stunned man brought his hand to his nose. “How clumsy of me, I’m so sorry,” Earl stammered.

Claire pulled some tissues out of her purse and thrust them at him, scowling at Roman. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Just a nosebleed, not to worry.” He held the tissues to his face. “But if you don’t mind, perhaps we can sign this contract so I can get home and clean up a bit.” Claire hastily signed the contract and accepted the keys. As soon as Mr. Harbinger was safety on his way home, she turned on Roman. “Are you crazy?” she demanded.

“I will not apologize for protecting you.” His voice was as calm as if they were discussing the weather.

“You can’t go around hitting everyone.” At his blank stare she continued. “This isn’t going to work…”

“I will be more cautious.” Roman held up his hands in surrender.

Claire shook her head slowly and took in a calming breath. “So he really just thinks he fell?”

“That is the memory I gave him.” He shrugged.

“Just like that?”

“I
have
had a long time to practice,” Roman reminded her.

“Will I be able to,” Claire waggled her hand in front of her, “you know?”

“Female Hybrids do not usually gain powers.”

“Why not?”

Her indignant response made him grin. “It’s not a sexist thing. Have you ever seen a female gargoyle?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. So I won’t,” she swallowed hard, “change?”

“No, you will not change form,” Roman assured her.

Claire raked both hands through her hair and blew out an exasperated breath. “We have a hell of a lot to talk about, Roman. How ’bout we do it while we clean up this place?”

* * * *

Roman trudged out to the car and retrieved the supplies she’d had him stash in the trunk. Once inside, he lifted and moved the heavy showcases into position while she attacked the dust in every corner of the shop. Roman noticed she was just as meticulous about cleaning as she was about her sculpting and he couldn’t help but wonder how those slender fingers would feel running along his skin.

“Roman?” Claire snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “Earth to Roman.” He blinked out of his thoughts. Damn, this was the very reason he didn’t need a woman in his life. Claire was a distraction. “Sorry, what did you need?”

“Would you mind wiping the top shelves?” Her hair had come out of its band and hung loosely around her face. A dark smudge of dust streaked across her cheek and the excitement that shone in her eyes warmed something deep within him.

“So I won’t change forms and I have no power.” She made little quotation marks with her fingers on the word power. “What good does it do me being a Gargoyle?” she asked as she continued cleaning.

“Hybrid,” Roman corrected.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Gargoyle, Hybrid, whatever.”

“Your children will possess the powers. Your sons, your grandsons and so on, will all grow into the ability to change forms.”

“My … my sons?” Her voice rose an octave in surprise. “Even if I marry a human?”

“Hybrids do not usually mate with humans.” He moved to the next shelf and continued cleaning. He didn’t want to see the look in her eyes. Damn it! This was all information she should have had by now. She was of age, her father should have told her.

Of course, her father couldn’t have told her. He was dead before he had the chance.

“Well this Hybrid mates with human males!” Her anger quickly turned to embarrassment, flushing her face pale pink. “I mean… I don’t have kids but…” Her voice wavered. “Oh hell! I could have.”

Roman tensed. The thought of Claire with another man set his nerves on edge and he had to force his jaw to unclench.

He removed his own emotion from his expression, set down his cloth and turned toward Claire. He then took her hand and set her on a small stool. “No, Claire. You couldn’t.”

Confusion lined her face, her mouth hung partially open and she clung to the dust cloth like a lifeline.

“I am sorry but Hybrids are not capable of having children with humans. The DNA is not compatible.”

“I can’t have children?” Her voice was a horrified whisper.

“Not with a human, no. I am sorry.” Roman didn’t want to be the one to cause such pain on her beautiful face.

She lifted her chin but the quiver in the move was still visible. “I’m a Hybrid Gargoyle with no power and a society of evil Spirits is trying to kill me, or barter with me,” she waved her hand dismissively, “whatever. Is there anything else I should know?” In the space of a few hours her entire life had changed. Or at least come into focus. What she thought she’d been was a lie.

“When you find your Gargoyle mate, it will be a bond that lasts forever.”

“Is that all?” She snorted a shaky laugh.

“Only that I will not allow any harm to come to you,” Roman said firmly.

“Why?” Her eyes challenged him.

“I am your Guardian,” Roman said simply.

Chapter Eleven

In the days that followed, Claire kept herself busy with the details required to open her gallery. She even called her mom, as they both knew she would. Claire wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

“I’m so glad you called me, honey,” Katherine crooned through the phone line. “I know this has been difficult and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself.”

“It’s okay, Mom, I know you were just trying to keep me safe. I just,” she took a shaky breath, “I just wish I had known him.”

“Your father?” Katherine asked.

“Yeah.”

Claire could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. “You are a lot like him. He was stubborn too.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“And he was artistic; you definitely get that from him. He used to come and visit, but I guess you were too young to remember it. He gave you your first sculpture kit. You must remember that. It was the first gargoyle you created. He was so proud.”

“You gave me that.” Claire sucked in a breath then realized her mom was not alone when she gave it to her. “He was tall,” she said almost to herself. “His hair was the same color as mine.”

“That’s right!” Katherine exclaimed. “That was the last time he visited you when you were awake.”

“Why?”

“You were just about to start school. It was the first time you would have been alone and he thought it would be better,” Katherine sighed, “no, safer, if he left before you realized who he was. Oh, Claire,” her mom sobbed, “he loved you so much.”

“And you loved him,” Claire stated softly.

“Yes, very much so.”

“And you stayed away from each other to protect me.”

“Oh, he came by every now and again, when you were asleep.” Katherine’s voice turned wistful. “At night he would show up and…”

“Okay, okay, I got it.
Please
don’t go into any of
those
details,” Claire pleaded.

Katherine was laughing as she said her goodbye.