Shadow Guardians: The Promised

Mari was miserable. Her chin was tucked into her chest, and she was utterly drained after all the emotions. If she had to guess, she had streaks of black mascara and eyeshadow running down her cheeks behind the mask.

And she was feverish. There was little ventilation in the room, and sweat misted her skin. Her throat was so dry, and it felt like all of her bones were shaking inside her body; her muscles were weak. She barely knew what was up or down.

She heard some commotion outside earlier and didn’t care to find out what it was about.

She missed Uriah. She was probably going to die here with the gaping hole of his absence in her chest. How would he know where to look for her? She’d already accepted her death. It was either going to be thirst or her transition.

A sweet scent like peonies reached her nose when the door opened.

“The Polish Prince would arrive in a couple of days,” Georgiano said in a cold, firm voice, as if he still had the ability to command her. “You would do well to drink the blood they bring to keep up your strength for the journey back.”

She wished her transition would hit and make her heart stop before that happened. Gods, have mercy.

She didn’t answer him, and heard the drag of his shoes as he turned around, probably facing her.

“I expect you to answer me when I speak.” His tone was icy, and her nerves were of steel.

His voice triggered a vision.

“You’re not marrying him, are you?” Mari panicked.

Her mother stroked her hair back behind her ear. “Of course not, my darling. No one will ever take Daddy’s place. Uncle Georgiano is just here to help me with Father’s estate documentation.”

“Is he my uncle?” Mari asked, scowling.

Her mother giggled. “No. Not really. We just say that out of respect.”

Mari pushed her foot lightly into the ground so she could move back and forth on the swing. “I don’t like him very much,” she murmured.

“I know. He’s not here for long—a few days at most. Come, let’s go in.”

She took her mother’s hand, and before they went into the house, Mari picked a strawberry from her mother’s garden and popped it into her mouth.

The vision shifted, and Mari felt her heart start to hammer against her ribs.

Mari trembled inside as she sat in the living chair with Georgiano’s bodyguards behind her. She’d never seen men that big or so much black. Or even a gun.

“I’m almost finished,” Georgiano said, studying the stack of papers on the desk and leaning on his cane. “Just a few more things to move over to your name.”

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble.” Eirlys said.

Georgiano smiled. “No. I’ve been working under Acheron’s command for years. He’s shared some things with me.”

Mari’s mother frowned. “He did? That’s... rather unlike him.”

Georgiano smiled and held out a wineglass filled with blood to her. “I’ve poured this earlier for you. You’ve been working hard to keep the homestead going on your own. The boost would be welcome.”

Eirlys accepted the glass, and Georgiano took his own.

He toasted her, though he didn’t say what for, and took a sip. She followed more out of custom than necessity.

Mari startled when her mother gave a little cough.

“Tastes,” she croaked out, “strong. Almost bitter.”

Georgiano didn’t answer her; he merely took another sip, and she followed.

Marionette sat up straight when her mother choked on the blood a second time, bringing her hand to her throat.

“Mommy?” Mari whimpered, and suddenly big bodyguard hands held her down on the chair by her shoulders.

Eirlys was full-on suffocating, her eyes wide, her face red, heaving for breath, and then foaming in the mouth.

At that point, Georgiano unsheathed a long, thin sword from his cane and plunged it into her abdomen. Mari wanted to scream but could barely breathe.

He pulled out the blade, only to plunge it back in. Over, and over.

The glass of poisoned blood fell from Eirlys’ hand, shattering on the floor and spilling the remainder. She sank down on the floor, and when her head touched the wood, her gaze turned to Mari. As her hand fell, she suppressed Mari’s memories of her death and of all that Georgiano had done in a last bid to save her child.

Then she took her last breath.

At first, everything within Mari stilled. Her breath, even her heartbeat paused. Until she started hyperventilating.

Panic quickly turned to ire and bitterness.

“She didn’t die of ailment,” Mari shuddered out.

She heard a teaspoon stirring in a cup in front of her that abruptly stopped.

“Excuse me?” Georgiano said, his tone clearly annoyed.

The pressure in Mari’s spine felt like it was crawling out of her skin the angrier she got. And she couldn’t rein it in.

“You killed her...”

Georgiano curiously studied her.

“You killed my mother...” Mari whispered.

Seeing the child’s confused expression, Georgiano went up to her and kneeled before her. He’d heard of Eirlys’ power, of course.

“Who am I, Marionette?” He asked.

When she didn’t answer him, he smiled. “I’m your Daddy, remember?”

He could just outright kill her, but that would be a waste. There was so much he could accomplish by keeping her.

“Daddy?” Mari spoke uncertainly.

“That’s right. Be a good little lady and sit right here while we collect our things. You and I are moving to a new home.” Georgiano said.

What a blessing that her memories had been wiped. It made it all so much easier. No need to kill the witness.

She still seemed confused, so he gave her a smile, and that seemed to soften her up a bit.

His men emptied the safe and took whatever else was of value, and Georgiano filed the documents.

Eirlys wasn’t as thorough as her mate. She didn’t bother to read the agreement that she’d signed, handing it all over to Georgiano.

It had to be done, he told himself. If he’d waited until the day that Acheron finally saw his value, he would have lived in mediocrity for centuries.

The child was just a welcome addition. With her, he would surely be given a place on the council.

Georgiano glanced around the house. It was unfitting for the rich; it was humble at best compared to the average aristocratic house.

Firewood.

When his men returned, he extended his hand to the girl.

“Come. We are leaving.”

She obeyed, albeit reluctantly. No matter, he thought, as time went on, she would learn to follow him.

“Who’s that?” She asked, glancing with wide eyes at Eirlys.

“Just someone who wanted to hurt you. Daddy saved you,” he said.

She carefully sidestepped the body, then took his hand, and they headed out.

“Burn it. Keep the fire in check so you don’t burn down the whole forest. We don’t want to attract unwelcome attention.” Georgiano said to his main man.

“The servants’ cabin, sir?”

“Leave it. They’ll pack up and leave when they realize there’s nothing left here.”

Georgiano lifted Mari onto his horse and mounted.

“Want to see some fireworks, Marionette?” Georgiano asked.

“Fireworks?” She asked, her arms clasped around his body.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the two houses. “Any minute now.”

At first, smoke appeared, and before long, it was all aflame. Dark clouds hid the sun, and loud cracks of burning wood drowned out the sounds of the animals in the forest.

“Yes, well. Her death was, unfortunate.” Georgiano said flatly, stirring sugar into his tea.

He was too occupied with making sure the teaspoon of sugar was exactly level to notice how the old, loose floorboards in the corner lifted into the air all by themselves or how the other cups on the tray levitated up.

“You burned down my house,” he heard Mari say behind him, her voice low and shaky. “And you have nothing to say for yourself? My father trusted you...”

“Your father was a selfish, egotistical moron who underpaid his staff and didn’t care for anyone’s dreams.” Georgiano kept his tone even, while fury rose within him. “He cast me aside to babysit part of his army, instead of convincing the council to give me the position I’ve always wanted.”

The tea tasted more bitter than it ought to have.

"In time, he said. Whose time? His? What gave him the right to manage my ambitions? Selfish, stubborn bastard. And in the end, he never saw it coming. Guess he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.”

Unwilling to take another sip of bitter tea, Georgiano decided to bend his diet and add another spoonful of sugar.

It was when he reached for the spoon that he saw it float before his eyes.

His heart skipped several beats, and his eyes bulged.

He slowly turned around to find Mari untied, the rope and blindfold floating above her head. Her eyes had changed to an unusual color. Her pupils were purple, and her blue irises had a ghostly glow.

Her locks of hair floated up around her as though she were underwater. Her breathing was strange—long inhales and even longer exhales.

Georgiano pointed a shaky finger. “You’re not supposed to have telekinesis when blindfolded,” he stumbled out.

Her eyes were frenzied, rabid.

In the next second, a floorboard, broken off at the tip and sharp as a spear, flew right at him, through his heart, and impaled him against the wall.

The telekinesis threw the blood he spit out over Marionette’s face.

The last thing he heard was a high-pitched shout of fury.

“YOU STOLE ME FROM THEM!”