Rekindled Prophecy: Greylyn the Guardian Angel Book 1 Read online

  Rekindled Prophecy

  Greylyn the Guardian Angel

  BOOK 1

  KC Freeman

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locale are used fictitiously. All characters appearing in this work are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, write to the author/publisher at [email protected]

  © 2021 KC Freeman

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover design by Ammonia Nikolova at Ammonia Book Covers.

  Published in the United States by KC Freeman

  Second Edition: March 2021

  Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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 28

  For a sneak peek at Book 2

  Reader’s Guide

  Author Biography

  Dedication

  Abundant gratitude and thanks to all the guardian angels throughout my life—the ones who encouraged me to be myself, to dream big, and unfurl my own wings to fly.

  Prologue

  London, England 1567

  This would be her first test as a guardian angel. The very first time that she, and she alone, was responsible for the success of the job. No partner to bail her out if she messed up. No pressure…then why did she feel the need to vomit from the pinching pain in her stomach?

  Her mentor, Jasper Moreau, had flashed a brilliant smile and pushed her hair back up under her boy’s cap before shoving her out of the carriage a couple blocks down from the tavern. He’d said, “You’ve got this, darling. You’re a natural.” Greylyn was glad someone had confidence in her because she certainly did not.

  She had spent the last few months learning how to fight, how to utilize her guardian senses, how to cover her tracks, and how to blend into society from Jasper. He had been an unrelenting task master, but kind after training was completed each day. The grueling physical training had been nothing compared to his endless lectures on everything from metaphysical sciences and world religions to telepathy and mastering the art of disguise. The latter came in handy for tonight’s assignment.

  Inside, her heart hammered against her ribcage. Cold sweat broke out on her palms. Peering through the soupy fog across the broken cobblestone street, Greylyn paused to stare at the entrance to the tavern. Women were not commonplace in bars, unless as barmaids or they practiced a certain profession. The tight corsets and stiff skirts did not work well in circumstances where she needed to fight. She prayed the ruffled shirt, vest, baggy britches, as well as the tight bandages that kept her bosom well-hidden and made breathing near impossible, were enough to disguise her femininity.

  A tingling feeling spread all over her body from the moment she pushed open the heavy doors of the tiny, dim pub. The heat from too many bodies crammed together so closely and the stench of the smoke emitting from the corner fireplace smacked her in the face immediately. Sweat broke out across her forehead. She itched to wipe her brow, but her hands were shaking too violently. Swallowing the bile rising from her belly, she forced her feet to shuffle forward until the heavy door thudded back against the doorframe.

  Five steps into the establishment and every nerve ending ignited like the fireworks Jasper had told her about from his last visit to China. This feeling was quite different from what she experienced when coming into contact with the innocent human she was charged with saving. The first time her guardian senses had picked up on Edward, the hairs on the back of her neck rose, her vision momentarily blurred, and there had been a faint tickling in her chest. But this feeling, she could not place.

  Something was wrong.

  She shoved her way through the throng of patrons to the bar. A sensation of being drawn to something, like a magnet in her belly, fought against her body’s command to move forward. It demanded she stop and turn. Jasper had never warned her about something like this. Was it just nerves? Greylyn dug her fingernails into her palms.

  Stay focused.

  The invisible pull messed with her connection to the innocent man she was there to help. The ruddy-faced gambler was on the other side of the tavern. His eyes flitted around the room. His time was short, and he knew it. The man, Edward, had failed to pay his debt to a notorious card shark. He did not owe money; he owed his soul. No matter where he ran, the demonic enforcers would track him down. She had been sent here tonight specifically to save the man from having a harpy gorge on his soul like a meal of fish and chips.

  He was her mission. But still her feet refused to cooperate.

  What is wrong with me?

  As her eyes darted around the room, looking for the source of her discomfort, her vision blurred, and her pulse quickened. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until …

  A dazzling pair of eyes, flecks of gold practically glowing in a sea of burnt umber, stared at her from a corner table. The gentleman’s eyes widened momentarily, and a slight tremor rippled through his expression. Dark hair with auburn highlights cascaded down past his shoulders. Rooted into place, time stopped and the world around her went hazy until his face transformed into a mischievous grin that sent tantalizing tingles throughout her body. Heat crept up her cheeks, but for what reason she could not comprehend.

  A loud crash from across the tavern broke Greylyn from her paralysis. She spun around to see Edward bolting out the back door, followed by a group of burly looking men carrying a large potato sack and thick wooden clubs.

  “Dammit.” This was exactly what she was meant to stop. Before she could give chase, a tall, muscular form blocked her path. Citrus and sandalwood invaded her senses, which was strange, given the odor of sweat, stale whiskey, and ale that permeated the crowded tavern.

  “Excuse …” She looked up. Big mistake. Hypnotic eyes stared down at her, and a delicious smile curled the corners of a sensual mouth. Her own lips failed to form words.

  “May I help you, young lad?” His voice washed over her, deep and somewhat familiar, followed by a throaty chuckle. Her mind screamed to get away from this man … fast, but her eyes were locked on his, unable to break free.

  An abrupt high-pitched cackling of a barmaid burst through her deaf ears, shattering his invisible hold. Forcing her feet to move, Greylyn spun around and sprinted out the back entrance of the tavern, desperate to find Edward before the demons captured him. Or worse.

  Behind the bar, the backstreet was dark and stank of garbage piled in more than a dozen mountain
s against the weathered stone exterior. Her eyes adjusted almost instantly, but Edward was nowhere in sight. He must have gotten away or done a damn good job of hiding, because the demon thugs canvassing the alley cursed and hurled threats to no one in particular. One especially rotund demon-possessed man swung a large wooden slab at piles of refuse lined up against the building while the others slowly stalked along the alleyway. “Here, here, little kitty,” one taunted. “You can’t hide forever, stupid bloke.”

  Okay, now what, Greylyn?

  Lost the innocent. Now she was stuck in a face-off with a band of demonic ruffians.

  Jasper’s voice rang in her head. Brilliant job!

  She doubted Jasper would praise her efforts so far to save the human. Instead, she was in quite a conundrum.

  No, her first lone assignment was not going smoothly. Not at all.

  Greylyn took a deep breath before moving out of the shadows to stand in the middle of the alley. Yanking the cap off her head that had kept her long ebony locks hidden away, she whistled to get their attention. “Yo, laddies! Looking’ for a good time?”

  They turned in unison, each bearing the same slimy grin. The one in the middle carrying a meat cleaver of all things, stalked towards her. “What we got here? A wee pretty thing, tain’t she?” He cranked his head left and then right, bones popping loudly. “Why ya covering up all ye assets dressing like a lad?” With that, he lunged for her arm.

  Greylyn side-stepped, pivoted, and slammed him in the back of the head with her elbow. “What d’hell …” were the last words he uttered as she slid in front of him with her dagger drawn, leaving a bright trail of blood along his now near-decapitated neck.

  The others paused as the man fell to the ground, his head lolling. Crimson blood gushed onto the cobblestones to mix with the putrid liquid run-off from the piles of garbage. Greylyn stood tall … well, as tall as she could for her barely five-foot frame. “Who’s next, boys?”

  Look who’s the tough broad now? Me, that’s who.

  Spending all day, every day with Jasper, and his sarcastic wit had rubbed off on her. With her confidence reinstated from such a quick first kill, Greylyn’s ego swelled with pride. However, this probably was not the best time to spout off to a demon gang, even if she was tough.

  Tall, splotchy, and already sporting a black eye from another encounter, the man on the left advanced. “Such a lovely lassie,” spit flew out between his blackened and rotting teeth, “t’would be a shame to spoil such a lovely lassie as yourself, but …” he shrugged, “that’d be fun, too.” He barreled towards her with a wicked smile. Whoosh! The air escaped her lungs when he slammed into her, tackling her to the ground. No sooner had she blinked away the stars in her eyes, his tremendous weight lifted off her. Greylyn flinched and screwed her eyes shut, waiting for him to punch or kick her, or outright twist her head off her body.

  Nothing happened.

  “What da bloody …” The goon did not get to finish his sentence. The next thing she heard was him gasping for breath, then the tremendous thud when he collapsed onto the ground. Blood flowed from his mouth and his neck bent at an awkward angle.

  Oh, thank heavens! Jasper had arrived to save her sorry butt.

  When she looked over, the man smashing the other goon’s face into the rock wall until his skull split open was quite obviously not Jasper Moreau.

  It was the man with the predatory tiger eyes she had encountered inside the tavern. The one that caused her to mess up because the pull to him had been greater than her guardian angel connection to poor, hapless Edward.

  Where the hell was Edward anyway?

  Lying paralyzed on the ground, Greylyn watched in abject fascination as the handsome man savagely twisted the neck off the last member of the card shark’s hit squad. From this vantage point, she could not make out his expression. His movements were smooth and agile, but also brutal. An exquisite and macabre dance of primal violence.

  No more bad guys to fend off, he whipped out a handkerchief from his breast pocket with a flick of his wrist and wiped away the blood and gore splattered on his face and hands. He did it in such a nonchalant manner, as if it were commonplace to violently beat men to death. A chill ran up Greylyn’s spine as he turned to face her.

  Do I thank him or run?

  In two quick strides, he knelt beside her. One hand came up to brush a tendril of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. The angered expression he had worn just seconds before evaporated. His eyes softened. A small smile tugged at his lips.

  A wave of heat originated from his touch, spreading out to her entire body. “Everything’s alright now, Gr ...” His voice, smooth yet husky, trailed off but with a slight accent marking him as not English, but from someplace close … someplace familiar.

  A chill raced through her veins, freezing her in place as she watched his glowing topaz eyes widened before morphing to a deep crimson hue.

  A demon?

  No, not exactly. The hint of sulfur was missing. The way pinpricks of pain flashed out when one touched her skin did not happen. Oh, there were pinpricks of something, but not the same sensation. No, he was not a demon, nor was he possessed by one. Of that she was certain, but the realization something was different about this man was enough to jar her back to her senses.

  Her fingers coiled tighter around the hilt of her dagger – a weapon bestowed upon her as part of her initiation into the world of guardian angels. The handle, intricately carved with a Celtic symbol interlaced with the sign of infinity and two opals of varying shades embedded in the center, now pressed into the soft skin of her palm. Months of intensive practice, it was now an extension of herself. Its sharp, jagged edges of an unbreakable shimmering blue metal were forged specifically to kill demons, to kill anything not intended for this world. Greylyn prayed it also worked on whatever this man was.

  He had not moved. Just stared at her with those freaky eyes of blood. She slashed upward with the blade. He jerked away, but not in time. A gash appeared across his cheek and his hand flew up to his face. Greylyn used his momentary surprise to push herself off the ground to run away. Not two steps later, the man grabbed her upper arm, hauling her backwards into his chest with such momentum she felt, as well as heard, the cracking of her spine from the impact. The small bones of her wrist popped painfully under pressure from his much larger hand, forcing her fist to unclasp and the dagger to fall. His other hand snaked around her waist.

  “Going somewhere so soon?” His voice held a gruff edge to it now, no longer velvety smooth.

  Every instinct screamed at her not to, but she defiantly craned her neck to stare up at her captor. Big mistake. He whipped her around to face him. Now pressed against his chest, the thumping of her own heart against her ribcage mixed with sound of his own rose to a deafening level, blocking out all other sounds. His lips curled on one side, highlighting a dimple. Perfectly white teeth glinted in the dim moonlight. Warm breath caressed her face, smelling slightly of bourbon.

  “Let. Me. Go,” she ground out from clenched teeth. Her body shivered, but she refused to acknowledge the fear. Although it was likely she might not survive her first guardian assignment, Jasper’s mantra that he had drilled into her head over the last year rang in her ears – Never acknowledge the fear. A guardian does not have the luxury of giving in to fear. Greylyn prayed her eyes reflected resolve and courage, not the terror coursing through her veins. Or whatever else was pulsing through her body.

  A full grin broke out on the man’s face. The red flames dancing in his eyes smoldered before returning to their topaz hue that had riveted her in place earlier. His entire face relaxed. “Now, love. Why would I do that? There’s so much we have to discuss before …”

  Greylyn stomped down on his foot with all her strength. Considering their significant size difference, she did not expect it to work, but it startled her captor enough for him to loosen his grip. She wrenched her arm away while her other fist swung up and slammed into his face. Blood gushe
d from his nose, flowing down to drip off his chiseled chin.

  Instead of an angry shout or a return punch, he glared steadily at her with no other outward show of pain or emotion.

  “So much for civility then.” The words were spoken so softly through thinned lips that she almost doubted he had spoken at all until his fist shot out. Excruciating pain blinded her.

  The jerk broke my nose!

  Strong hands gripped her arms and yanked her with such force her neck snapped as her body sailed across the alleyway. Colliding with the moss-covered stone wall of the tavern, all the air whooshed out of her lungs. A coppery tinge filled her mouth.

  Pain and anger boiled up, fueling a surge of adrenaline that brought everything into crystal clear focus. All sound, except for her assailant’s heavy breathing, stopped. She waited.

  Why didn’t he attack? Why did he stop?

  She raised her head in defiance, blood and muck clinging to the strands of hair covering her face.

  I am a guardian angel. No evil shall pass by me.

  This man was obviously evil. Demon or not, evil was evil. She had no choice but to put an end to him.

  “Like hitting little girls, do you? Not very gentlemanly.” She clicked her tongue behind her teeth as her arms numbly pushed her into a squatting position. Sizing him up, this time as an opponent, Greylyn saw past the fashionable attire and good looks to the dark soul underneath. A blackness exuded from his aura, so dark it mingled with the night sky. How had she not seen it before?

  The man straightened to his full height, hands at his side curled into fists. “You shouldn’t be here, love.” She had expected an angry retort or another attack, but his voice was soft and shaky.

  Her eyes darted around the alley. She needed a weapon, preferably her own. Where had it gone? With the moon fully ensconced behind the clouds it was impossible to see more than his faint outline, even with her superior nighttime vision.

  Greylyn rose to stand, her back against the broken stone wall. “Well, I am here. Ready to party.” She had aimed for a daring, but jovial tone. The slight squeak at the end belied her inner fear.