The Guardian Read online

  The Guardian

  The Faerie Wars - Book 1

  Quinn Arthurs

  Cover designed by Nichole Witholder at Rainy Day Artwork

  Copyright © 2019 by Quinn Arthurs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To my Assembly folk:

  Thank you for the laughter, the memes, the support, the tears — you have no idea how much you have all helped me, in little ways and big, on this journey. This one’s for you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Coming Soon

  Prologue

  Also by Quinn Arthurs

  About the Author

  1

  “Promise me.” My mother’s words were a whisper, barely audible from a throat scratchy from vomiting and painful screams.

  “I promise, Mom.” I tried to keep my tone soothing as I used a cloth to dry the sweat on her forehead. What else could I say to a dying woman? Not only one who was dying, but who was clearly crazy. The doctors were sympathetic, but they all agreed: Mom had days, if not only hours, left on this earth.

  “I wrote it all down for you.” The raspy words were followed by a hollow gasp and an echoing cough. “Exactly as it should be said. You mustn't forget, Tourmaline.” I wanted to swear at her, reprimand her for not seeking medical attention before I found her collapsed on her bedroom floor. I didn’t want to spend the last time we had together fighting, though.

  “I haven’t forgotten the Rite of Passing, Mom.” The words were shaky as they fell from my lips. She had taught me the rites for as long as I could remember. She had warned me never to perform them in their entirety, swearing it would cause bad luck and potential harm to whomever you thought about when it was performed. Yet another foolish fantasy in a broken mind. I had known for as long as I could remember that something inside of my mother was broken. It didn’t affect how much I loved her, however.

  “My sweet girl.” Her speech nearly slurred, her shaky hand stroking against my cheek in a tender caress. “You’re going to do such great things. I’m sorry I won’t be here to see them.” I fought against the tears that were burning my eyes and tightening my throat.

  “You still could be, Mom. You’ve got to fight.” I wanted to shake her, to force her to listen to me. She had been a driving force all my life, never letting her visions, her fears, or her beliefs hold her or me back. If anything, they seemed to give her strength before, yet now she seemed drained.

  “They’ve done too much this time. Not sure…” A ragged gasp cut her off, her lungs fighting to drag in a breath of air. “Not sure how they found me. Cast the last rites, Tourmaline.” Her nearly manic gaze met mine, and she squeezed my hand in a tight grip. “Send me to my rest and ask for the spirits’ protection.”

  My shoulders shook as I fought to control the sobs racking my body. I brushed kisses against her sallow, sunken cheeks, heedless of the tears that pooled there.

  “I don’t know how to do this alone.” The plea fell from my lips as I willed my mother to stay with me.

  Caught up in a coughing fit, she took a moment to reply. My eyes focused on the blood staining her lips, and I tried to help prop her up to ease the pressure in her lungs.

  “Sweetheart.” The liquid filling her lungs and my own harsh, sobbing breaths garbled her words as she forced them out. “You’ll never be alone. I’m with you always. Trust the spirits. I love you, my Tourmaline.”

  I laid my head on her shoulder and wept, rocking her slowly, her body growing cool against me. I was truly alone.

  “Miss?” The nurse’s soft hesitant voice broke through my sobs. “She’s gone, sweetie. We can handle things now.” Sympathy laced her tone, but there was a hint of steel behind it. There was only so long they’d let the newly orphaned girl sob over her mother’s cold corpse.

  I sat up, brushing my fingers across Mom’s cheeks. “Spirits guide you, Mother. I hope you find peace.” I wiped at my swollen cheeks, but I didn’t even attempt a smile toward the waiting nurse. “If you just give me a moment?”

  The nurse nodded and stepped from the curtained off room. I swept my purse from the chair, digging through it until I found the little sewing kit Mother had always insisted that I carry. It had come in handy numerous times, so I had never fallen out of the habit even as I grew older. I slid the tiny pair of scissors free from their grip, before leaning over and snipping off a piece of my mother’s long, dark locks, twirling them into a circle and slipping them into the sewing kit with the scissors.

  I’d need the lock of hair for the ritual. It was her last wish, and I hoped it would give both of us some peace. I nodded in acknowledgment to the nurse waiting for me when I left the room. “I’ll arrange for a funeral home to pick her up.”

  Mom had wanted a green burial, but in the city the way we were, it just wasn’t feasible. She had decided on cremation instead, though I assumed it was because it was the cheapest option; it’s not like we had much to work with. My chest ached at the thought, as though an iron band was wrapping around it without leave.

  “I’ll let the coroner know. I’m sorry for your loss.” The nurse murmured the common condolence, and I nodded stiffly, before turning and heading for the door. I’d perform Mom’s last rites, ensure she was cremated, and then I would try and rebuild my life and pretend there wasn’t a hole where my mother was supposed to be.

  It had taken time to purify the kitchen with salt water and sweetgrass. It felt a little odd to perform a rites ritual in the middle of a city apartment kitchen, with its glaring overhead lights and cracked tile. I knew that Mom preferred working in her kitchen though, and I decided it was another way to honor her.

  I built my altar with the gemstones she loved, laying out her collection of tourmaline, labradorite, fluorite, and obsidian. I had etched the white candle with her name, Alexa Regina Kemp, nearly laughing at the sight. It had always amazed me that her name was so common, yet she had named me something so unusual.

  Pressing the small seashells she had collected into the base of the candle, I then wrapped the strand of hair I’d clipped around the candle and pushed it into the soft wax. I set the bowls of salt, water, and herbs in front of her pictures, and picked up the small athame she had preferred to work with.

  “As promised, Mom,” I murmured, glancing again at the ritual card she had laid out on the table for me, my heart aching with the thought that she had known this hospital trip would be her last and wanted to ensure I was prepared. I didn’t know how she had expected me to forget.

  I knew the words and actions would be engraved in my mind for the rest of my life. I had always held the childish expectation that I would never need to actually say them, that my mother would always be there, her wacky ways a constant annoyance as I tried to build up my life.

  Breat
hing out the negative thoughts, I focused my attention on the altar. Clear mind, clear heart, clear intentions, that’s what she had always said. I opened the blessing, calling on the spirits, the elements, the four directions for blessing and protection, to guide my mother’s spirit to its resting place. I lit the candle and picked it up to cradle it near my chest, the ache building there as I fought back tears here in this kitchen that smelled of her.

  “Spirits guide, spirits protect, now you are called. Light the way, find the path, carry her to her home.” Tears coursed down my cheeks as I spoke the words I’d learned so many times, my gaze locked on hers in her small portrait. “Protect, teach, embrace, endure. The wanderer is found, the broken pieces mend. Guardians, you are called.”

  I set the candle before her picture, the small dish of shell balancing it and catching the wax. I formed the symbols with the athame as she had taught me, carving the runes into the air above the flame that flickered and danced in the drafty air. I thanked each element and their directions, relieving them of their duties before I laid the athame back on the altar, the ritual almost complete. As the hair wrapped around the candle caught the flame, burning into nothing, I let the tears fall heedlessly.

  “Merry meet, merry part, merry meet again.” I leaned over, blew out the candle, and stepped back from the altar. “I love you, Mom.”

  A boom of thunder nearly sent me skidding in shock. What the hell? Had the apartment itself been hit by something? The room shook with the sound, the air crackling with electricity and pressure. Of all my luck, I just happened to be in an apartment hit by lightning. I whirled, intending to grab Mom’s picture and escape from the small apartment that would more than likely be on fire any minute, but skidded to a halt, my mouth falling open in shock. Standing in front of the altar were three men, none of whom had been there moments before.

  “What the hell?” I couldn’t stop the words from escaping, though I figured calling attention to myself was the last thing I should do at the moment. One of the three arched a brow as black as ink at me, and I stumbled backward, attempting to snatch my purse — and the cellphone inside of it — before locking myself in my mom’s room and calling the police.

  “Wait.” The voice was soft but full of command. I had no intentions of obeying it; however, my body froze without my consent.

  “Huh?” I gasped. It was all I could get through lips that were suddenly frozen. I had no idea what herbs Mom had put into her incense, but I was not happy with this side effect. No wonder she’d always been a bit looney, she was burning hallucinogens! At least as far as hallucinations went, this was a pretty good one. All three of the men now surrounding me were hot, extremely hot.

  The first was dressed all in black, a silky sheened material the same color as his hair, and his grey eyes were hard. “You did call for us. You’d think a witch would know better than to cast a summoning if she didn’t actively mean it.” My lips still refused to move, so all I could do was stare.

  “Onyx, enough,” the largest of the three rumbled. He shook his head as he glared at the man in black. “I am Terran.” He inclined his head, his dark hair flowing down to nearly his shoulders. A thick beard covered his face, adding to his imposing look. At nearly six and a half feet tall and with muscles the size of doorstops, he didn’t need any help in the intimidation department.

  Warmth flowed through me and, though I couldn’t run, I somehow knew I could speak again. “What is going on?” Oh great, Tori. Stereotypical girl gets killed in a horror movie response.

  “You performed the summoning.” The third cocked his head to study me, apparently confused or intrigued. He was slenderer than his companions, his hair a dark red. His eyes were captivating, wide and green, and he studied me unabashedly, those dark lashes never concealing me from his gaze.

  “I performed the Rite of Passage.” I didn’t know why I felt like I needed to tell him this. I figured I’d just blame it on whatever herbs my mother had put in the incense. This was definitely going to be my last spell. I never thought she’d try to get me high as a final joke.

  Onyx scoffed, scorn evident in his tone as he glanced back at the altar and spoke. “She can’t be the one. She can’t even understand the difference between a passage rite and a summoning rite.”

  “Silence.” Terran’s low voice brooked no argument. “There is no mistaking it. You performed the rite, you called the Guardians, otherwise we would not be here.”

  I glanced around frantically, my eyes zeroing in on the card that held my mother’s instructions. He followed my gaze and scooped up the card from where it had landed. His eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up as he read through the spell.

  “Interesting,” Terran murmured.

  “Will you just leave, please? I don’t have any money; there’s nothing for you to take.” I wasn’t sure why I would try to argue with hallucinations, but it seemed more effective than ignoring them.

  “We aren’t hallucinations.” The redhead’s voice was cool, his head still cocked as though I was an interesting puzzle.

  “Yeah, well, only a hallucination would know I thought he was a hallucination.” I closed my eyes praying for patience. Talk about a useless argument.

  “Enough of this,” Onyx snapped, the scowl etched on his face as though frozen there. “We have no time for foolish games, Terran.”

  “Onyx, stop.” Terran’s eyes turning back to mine. “You performed the spell?” He considered the altar for a moment, assessing it. “The picture is not you. Who is it?”

  “My mother,” I ground out. I wish my hands were free so that I could take a swing at him.

  Terran’s gaze softened as he watched me. “If Reed releases you, will you refrain from running? It is extremely inconvenient, and he would simply be forced to freeze you again.”

  Ok, now I really wanted to hit him.

  Reed chuckled. “She really wants to hit you, but she has no plans to run. I believe I can release her without detriment.” Reed raised a hand, his lips moving slightly before the tightness surrounding me dropped away. I clenched my hands into fists, fighting the urge to hit one of them rather than run. My survival instincts were apparently broken.

  “You’ve got to be joking.” Onyx spoke up, looking in shock between his two companions. “It can’t be her. There must be a mistake. The magic is wrong.” The final words were flat and emphasized with a decisive slash of his hand.

  “The magic is never wrong, as you well know.” Terran etched a bow, far more gracefully than I would have expected in someone of his size. “I am sorry if Reed, Onyx, and I startled you. It is nice to meet you, despite the confusing circumstances.”

  “I’m Tori.” Introducing myself was automatic, and my name came out before I could stop myself. I resisted the urge to hold out my hand for a handshake. Apparently, my manners still worked, even when I was scared witless. Of all the things for my mother to have made second nature, I figured this could have been one of the worst.

  “Tori,” Onyx scoffed again, and I wanted to stick out my tongue. “She doesn’t even bare a native name.” I wondered how he’d react if he knew what my name actually was.

  “Tourmaline.” Reed’s head cocked to the side again as if he listened. “Her true name is Tourmaline.”

  “Will you stop that?” I swatted at the air around my head. I had no idea how he knew some of what he knew, but I definitely didn’t like it.

  I winced at the use of my true name. I had hated it my entire life, but that’s what you got when your mother was a slightly insane hippie who thought it was a great idea to name a helpless child Tourmaline Clove Kemp, uncaring about what her daughter would have to deal with as she got older and filled out forms or job applications.

  “Reed. Walls,” Terran snapped. Reed appeared to sulk for a moment, but he nodded. “My apologies. Reed doesn’t always know when to take a step back.”

  “She’s unshielded,” Reed pointed out defensively. “It’s as though she’s shouting at me.”


  “It makes no sense.” Onyx threw up his hands as he glared at me. “If she’s completely unshielded this way, someone would have found her before this. It’s impossible that it’s her.”

  “When did your mother pass?” Terran asked me, his voice quiet.

  Tears pricked at the back of my eyes and I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want to cry in front of them. They didn’t deserve to see my sorrow. “Four hours ago.”

  Onyx hissed, shoving his hands into his hair. “She’s completely unguarded. For shell’s sake.”

  “You need to come with us.” Terran’s voice was urgent. “It won’t be safe here much longer. I’m surprised they haven’t found you yet.”

  “I still have no idea how any of you got in here, and I’m still mostly convinced you are all hallucinations. I have no plans to go anywhere except to bed, where I will hopefully expel whatever the hell my mother laced her incense with, and I can be up and to work in a few hours’ time.” Not that I wanted to go to work; hell, all I wanted to do was curl up in my mother’s bed surrounded by her things and cry for a month. But bills didn’t wait, and I had to find a way to pay for the cremation as well as have enough to cover my rent and food.

  “You believe you are hallucinating?” Reed appeared to be as confused as I was. “You performed the rites. You called your Guardians.”

  “I didn’t call any guardians!” I yelled.

  I was pissed now. My mother had just died and had attempted to drug me. I didn’t need any of this. Maybe the neighbors would hear me shouting and call the cops and I could get some kind of help.