Shadow Guardians: The Promised

Marionette woke to darkness and the smell of damp wood and mildew in her nostrils. Her face felt swollen and tender; in fact, her entire body hurt. She hadn’t the strength to lift her head, but she knew she was seated on a chair with her hands tied behind her back and blindfolded.

A fleeting vision appeared in her mind of a glass filled with red liquid, resembling blood, tumbling and shattering, causing the red to spread out on the floor.

The image sent a chill down her spine, and she jerked involuntarily. Panic wouldn’t do her any good, she told herself. Not in her state; it would sap any energy she had left.

The vision created an abnormal stirring in her body, a density in her limbs that wanted to break free of her confines. Most of it condensed at her spinal cord.

Uriah’s blood still coursed through her veins, even now providing her with the vital strength she sorely needed.

There was no sound in the space she was held captive in, save for her own breathing, dripping water from somewhere, and some bird calls outside. She focused on the scents she could identify. Dust, mildew, rotting wood, and pine—a forest.

There was no muffling cloth in her mouth, which meant that she was probably far away from anyone who could hear her screams.

Her leg fell asleep, and she attempted to shift around, then noticed she was tied by the ankles too. Attempting to break through the rope would be pointless in her declining condition.

She did discover, however, that the flooring beneath her was possibly old floorboards, judging by the sound the chair made when she moved.

Her heart gave a thud when she heard the voices of approaching men, and her veins all but caught fire when she recognized one.

No, not him…

“Ah! So you’re finally alert and where you belong,” he said, and Marionette wanted to weep at the sound of her father’s voice. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

There was a scratching sensation in the back of her mind, like something was trying to crawl its way out of the depths of her subconscious, and with it, the density in her limbs and spine intensified.

She ground her teeth together to keep them from clattering with a combination of shock and cold. The floorboards creaked as he came closer, and then his sweet scent invaded her nose when he kneeled before her.

His fingertips skimmed her cheek, and it took everything she had not to recoil from his touch, for if she had, she would surely meet his backhand.

“Well, you have caused me a great deal of mess,” he said, and the irritation in his tone was plain. “Thought you could elude me forever? How senseless. But I should have expected you to make such a foolish judgment.”

“Calm yourself, Georgiano; she is here now, isn’t she?”

Marionette glowered. She wasn’t familiar with that voice. And then it struck her nose. Brimstone…

Her blood turned to frost when she grasped the implications, and she nearly forgot to breathe.

He had been tainted.

“Yes,” Georgiano answered. “She will be kept here until the Polish prince arrives. And then she will take her rightful place by his side.”

His firm, cold tone held no more sway with her. And arguing was pointless, so she kept quiet and saved her strength.

His voice rose with him. “And I will finally be restored to my place on the council.”

“And I’ll get my coven house,” another man added.

Her mind went fuzzy, and the rest of the conversation trailed off as they made to leave the room.

…food and water. Just keep her in the cabin, was what she heard before her head suddenly felt like it weighed six tons.

She lowered her chin to her chest, and a deep ache spread through her limbs that made her want to cry out. But she refused to show weakness in front of them.

Another vision touched her. First the words, then the images. The words she imitated with her own lips, as though she were the one who had spoken them.

“What’s that you hold in your hands? It’s my heart…”

A fine-looking man with azure eyes and raven hair kneeled before her. Behind him, the landscape was carpeted with snow. He gave her a tender smile, barely revealing the tips of his fangs while holding her hands in his own.

Her hands were small, so she must have been young.

As much as she attempted to push aside the images as nothing but the product of her imagination after this whole ordeal, her instincts told her that they weren’t made-up.

A feminine index drew a name in the sand – Acheron.

Mari’s heart ached at the sight of the name, as though it belonged to someone near and dear to her.

Someone she didn’t even remember.

Maybe she was losing her mind, and it was only a matter of time before she succumbed to the madness. Why hadn’t she listened to Uriah? He’d never been wrong before. She had been so focused on making everyone else happy that she had put herself in danger’s path.

Keira’s words echoed in her mind. He doesn’t care about you; he’s just going to leave you.

Mari choked back tears.

Would he do that? Just leave her behind and forget about her? Was she that disposable?

The room spun. She shook her head, but it did little to clear the disorientation. And her body felt as if it were going through the wringer. Every inch of her ached deeply, and she experienced extreme changes in temperature, going from freezing to feverish.

She couldn’t think that of him. Bonded males never left their females. Ever. That was one thing that had been made very clear while she was growing up. It was almost used as a warning to keep females away from them.

Especially from the warriors, because they took bonding to a whole new extreme.

She would give anything to be safe in his arms now.

A young boy with messy brown hair balanced on the edge of a brick wall outside a grand mansion, his arms spread wide as he walked along the narrow surface. He paused, turned his head, and gave her a shy smile. She was just six, and he looked to be around ten.

Her mother came to fetch her, her butterscotch tresses glossy in the sunshine. Dark brown eyes and flawless pearly skin lent her a loveliness that few could match.

“Come, my darling. We must clean you up. Father will be home soon. He’s missed you so much.”

Mari studied the boy and then suddenly knew that he was a vampire youngling. She had no idea how she knew this; it was a strong sense of truth that washed over her. And she didn’t want to go inside yet. She longed to play with him, as they had played together before.

Yet she missed her father and was excited for his return.

She allowed her mother to lead her into the grand house and cast a glance over her shoulder at the boy. He waved at her, just as his own parents called his name.

Mari frowned at the vision. Georgiano had never missed her. He could hardly stand the sight of her. And she had never pined for him either.

Why didn’t she remember this? Surely she was old enough at six years of age to recall the memories that harked back to that boy?

With few friends to speak of, she knew the value of someone who was worth remembering, and yet she couldn’t recall him. His name was too cloudy.

She thought back on the memories of her mother and was struck by how hazy and indistinct they were, an anomaly given the typical sharpness of vampire memories. And the house—she’d never seen that mansion before.

That name, inscribed in the sand, kept repeating itself in her thoughts. Acheron. Acheron. Acheron.

Had her being alone here awakened these visions? Or did they perhaps belong to Uriah?

No, they didn’t know each other when they were young...

The scratching feeling in the back of her mind increased and set her nerves on end.

...Did they?

A piercing pain ripped through her body, leaving her gasping for air. Her head shot back, and now she wished they had put something in her mouth to keep her from screaming.

Uriah’s blood seemed to have a heartbeat of its own inside her veins. She could tell his from her own. The steady rhythm of his blood brought some relief from the hurt and warmed her from the inside out when she broke into a cold sweat.

But it pushed outward that awful, dense energy in her spine.

As she caught her breath and the shouting of the males outside became audible through the ringing in her ears, she prayed to the goddess that Uriah would come for her.

Lulled by exhaustion, her chin rested on her chest, and she dozed off. And in her dreams, she saw men on horseback, clashing swords, and the shrill cries of demons.

Then that gallant man was before her again, with a gray cloak covering his chest, as he once again confessed that she held his heart in her hands.

In her sleep, his name slipped from her mouth on a whisper. “Acheron.”