Rekindled Prophecy: Greylyn the Guardian Angel Book 1 Read online

  “Looking for a good time, I see. Well then, how about a dance?”

  He sprung at her in a blur, but Greylyn dodged just an inch to the left and he slammed into the same wall he had thrown her against. She pivoted to attack while he was still prone on the ground, but a sudden glint of blue caught her attention. Her dagger! Just a few yards away.

  She dove to the right, her outstretched fingers grazed the hilt, but her hesitation cost her. A hand clamped down fully on the handle and wrestled it away from her grasp. He rolled her over roughly, straddled her hips with her arms trapped underneath his knees, and smashed her face with the fist holding her own weapon.

  Pain exploded as bones and tendons cracked and blood seemed to spurt from every pore. The assault continued, punch after punch, blow after blow. Greylyn’s world turned crimson just before a blackness edged her vision.

  Her first assignment as a guardian angel. Her first failure, and quite possibly, her last.

  Death was inevitable. Not even her own supernatural strength could save her from this monster. Despite the agony racing throughout her body, her mind clearly accepted her fate.

  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.

  Silence fell over the alley. The rain of punches stopped. Greylyn’s eyes opened to peek at her attacker. What she saw chilled her to her soul – the demonic red eyes had smoldered away, back to their original gold-flecked hue. The man’s face transformed from pure rage to sadness as a tear rolled down his cheek. A tear? “I’m … I … Oh no …” His trembling lips continued to move, but no coherent words formed.

  “What in the bloody hell …” An angry roar shocked her out of her stupor. That voice she recognized. Jasper.

  Unable to move, she gaped as a tall shadow with piercing eyes of ice jerked her assailant away from her.

  “You damn …” He did not finish his sentence, just punched the man in the face while holding him by his lapel.

  Greylyn gulped in air. She was not dead, not yet. Renewed energy pulsated through her body and gave her strength to push herself up on shaky arms. She stared, turning to look at each man as they circled each other. Both men with deadly intent etched on their faces. In between getting hit, and throwing jabs of his own, the stranger muttered, “Had to be you! It just had to be you!” One final uppercut to Jasper’s jaw, and the guardian angel fell back.

  Her mouth opened to scream for him to leave Jasper alone, but no words came out. He turned to her, his face bloodied, but with a sad smile. “Until next time, love.” Seconds later, he vanished down the alleyway.

  Suddenly able to move again, Greylyn jumped up and ran over to Jasper. “Who the hell was that?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, by the way.” With the indignant look he flashed she knew Jasper was far from being fine. Physically, yes, he was alright. But his icy-blue eyes spoke volumes of fury she could not understand.

  “I’m so sorry …” She checked him for injuries, hands roved over his body. His clothes were spattered with blood. Other than his pride, and a black eye that would fade in an hour or two, he was in perfect shape.

  Greylyn knew she looked a mess. Hell, she should be dead. Instead, the blood had already dried and the sizzle of her bones mending underneath her skin comforted her.

  I am not going to die. At least not tonight.

  Jasper cupped her chin. “Yes, I know. It’s my fault. It was too soon to send you out on your own like that. I realized my mistake and came to find you in case you needed assistance.” A nerve twitched in his jaw. “And I find I was correct. You certainly needed help.” Disappointment was evident in his tone.

  “Oh, no! Edward? Did he escape? I came out here looking for him, but these guys,” she waved her hand towards the corpses littering the alley, “were after him and …”

  “Yes, yes. I get it. You ran into the bad guys and as a bonus, you got a bloody dark guardian your first time on your own.”

  “A what?”

  “A dark guardian. The exact opposite of us, darling. You are just lucky I came along when I did. That one would’ve carved you up like a porterhouse steak.” He pushed himself off the ground. At his full height of well over six feet tall, he towered above her.

  “Does this dark guardian have a name?” She did not know why it mattered that she find out his name. Jasper narrowed his eyes at her in obvious disapproval.

  “That one in particular is Kael,” Jasper spat. “Truly nasty piece of work. Avoid him at all costs. Hopefully, you will never have to see that creature again.”

  He turned towards her and grabbed her by the upper arms, leaning forward so they were nose to nose. An aroma of whiskey and tobacco wafted into her face. “Greylyn, promise me that you will stay away from Kael. If he ever crosses your path, either annihilate him completely with your dagger through his heart and then rip it out of his body while it is still beating; or run. Just run.”

  ***

  Centuries later, Jasper’s warning still echoed in her ears. Kael arose every so often,

  almost as if he were taunting her with his presence. He would toy with her, undo whatever good she intended to do, and just in general made her afterlife difficult. Every encounter etched into her memory, chipping away at her tough veneer. One day, she vowed, she would end him for good.

  Chapter 1

  The Dueling Hearts

  West Memphis, Arkansas

  Four Centuries Later

  Stale beer and sweat assailed Greylyn as the gorilla of a bouncer pushed open the wooden doors to allow her entrance into The Dueling Hearts. The country western establishment was the hottest nightclub scene this side of the Arkansas/Tennessee state line. She sometimes wondered why she never had an assignment at a spa or a beach resort. Instead, it seemed she always ended up in bars and alleys seeking out people to save.

  After jostling with other bar patrons for the lone bartender’s attention, Greylyn ordered a bourbon with a splash of coke and settled in to wait. Trying her best to put out the Don’t bother me vibe with a vacant stare and expressionless face, she sipped her watered-down beverage.

  A tugging sensation in the back of her mind alerted Greylyn that her young charge, Jenna, had just walked through the door with some friends. She shook her head.

  Last weekend, Greylyn had brushed up against a plain Jane with mousy brown hair barely able to make eye contact with anyone. All of Jenna’s loneliness and memories of neglect had flooded her angel senses. However, she had not been sent to rescue the girl from her own fragile mentality.

  Now the girl sported long, platinum blonde locks that went midway down her back. Her face was plastered with “southern beauty queen” make-up. The transformation was complete with typical clubbing attire – short-short denim skirt, shimmering, hot pink tank top exposing substantial cleavage, and silver stiletto heels that she had obvious trouble walking in.

  Poor girl is going to break her ankle in those things.

  Unfortunately, the metamorphosis had done nothing to improve Jenna’s emotional state.

  She still could not make eye contact with anyone.

  As Jenna headed towards the bar with her friends, Greylyn kept an eagle-eye on the door for trouble. She did not have to wait long. Trouble, aka Devon – a young, handsome man with a Cheshire cat smile and smoky-gray eyes – sauntered into the bar and made a beeline towards the girl. He was followed closely by an entourage of four strapping young cowboy-types. An annoying buzzing behind her eyes confirmed it … soul stealing demons.

  Greylyn had encountered several soul stealers over the years. Seeing the results of their work – the zombies that their victims became as they continued throughout life without the ability to feel love, hope, happiness, or differentiate between right and wrong – made her blood boil.

  Adding to her frustration was the fact this particular soul stealer had escaped her clutches before and gone on to inflict evil on countless other souls.

  Tapping her toes to the upbeat country tunes, she vigila
ntly watched over Jenna, waiting for a good moment to confront Devon alone. But the group of demon cowboys stayed close together, forming a circle around the couple.

  The tiny hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood straight up. One of Devon’s pals approached her, a squat-faced man resembling an NFL linebacker with long, shaggy dishwater blond locks tied back in a ponytail. His ragged designer jeans and uber-tight white t-shirt showcased his ripped abs and pectorals to perfection. Several female heads spun around, watching his every move, probably hoping he was heading their way. But he stopped right in front of her with an outstretched hand. “Care to two-step?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the dancefloor. He took every opportunity to press his face close to hers. The stench of the brute’s beer breath could have leveled the entire establishment and made her eyes water. She continued to smile up at him while fighting the urge to flinch.

  Despite his numerous attempts to hold eye contact with her – a common trick used to captivate innocents – her eyes darted around the room in search of Jenna and Devon. With all that twirling, Greylyn lost sight of them in the throngs of couples on the dance floor. Again, she cursed her shortness. The thug blocked everything in her line of sight.

  After about the tenth time of swatting his giant hand off her buttocks, she had had enough. The twangy song mercifully ended so she wrenched herself away from his meaty grasp. Her heartbeat quickened. Neither Jenna nor Devon was anywhere in sight.

  Shivers spread up her spine. Her charge was in danger.

  Damn it! Where the hell is she?

  Greylyn climbed up on the edge of the stage for a better view. She spotted one of Jenna’s friends, a strawberry blonde in black denim pants and a V-neck top that plunged too far down when she bent over. The woman was sitting on the lap of a young cowboy with his hand sliding up and down her legs. She pushed past the throngs of dancers. Without waiting to introduce herself, she yanked the woman off her paramour.

  “Where did Jenna go?” Starry, vacant hazel eyes stared back at her. The girl was blitzed!

  With the gray tinge around her aura, Greylyn suspected she was quite literally drowning her sorrows. Placing the pads of her thumbs on the woman’s eyelids, she whispered a quick spell in Latin – Ostendo mihi Jenna. The last image of her friend played back in Greylyn’s mind – Jenna holding hands with Devon as he led her down a long, dim corridor towards the back bar area. The poor girl had even tripped in those insane high heels, but Devon caught her arm, dragging her outside.

  “Thanks.” She released the girl, but something stopped her from running out the back. A vision blinded her to all else. The thumping of the music stilled. All else around her ceased to exist.

  The same woman, except dressed in ivory chiffon, stared out a high window. Although slightly obscured by a drizzling mist, terror radiated from the woman’s wide eyes. A single tear slid down her pale, freckled cheek. Fear seized Greylyn’s own heart and squeezed to near bursting. Then …

  The rowdy bar roared back into full focus amid the crowd singing along to “Chicken Fried” by the Zac Brown Band. Shaking off the vision, Greylyn placed a reassuring hand on the woman’s shoulders. “I believe I’ll be seeing you again sooner or later.” Glossy eyes stared blankly back.

  Greylyn ran out the back of The Dueling Hearts to an unlit alleyway. Her vision immediately adjusted to the pitch-black night. In the right corner of the alley, Devon’s entourage loitered around a stretch limo, smoking cigarettes. She sensed Jenna nearby but could not see her or the soul stealer anywhere.

  Okay, Grey. It is now or never to put those acting skills to work.

  After working as an understudy for a minor character from an off-off Broadway production of Cats for three months to keep the producer from taking advantage of the revolving door of innocent children into the theater, she took a bit of pride in her new dramatic skill set.

  Mussing her hair a bit, she noisily sauntered towards the group. “Excuse me,” she tried saying in her best drunken drawl, “could one of you handsome gents help me out?”

  The men turned towards her, their eyes at first growing wide before narrowing at her approach. The way their gazes roved up and down her body, lingering too long on her chest, sent a wave of revulsion through her.

  They advanced toward her like a hyena pack. Greylyn picked the weakest looking of the crew, a tall, lanky blond with pristine nails and hair frozen in place with product. Wavering over to him, she peered up into his slate-gray eyes as she placed her hand lightly on his chest. “Hi,” she cooed seductively, followed by a giggle.

  With a wicked half-grin, the demon placed his hand over hers while using his other hand on her chin to lift her eyes to his face. He drawled, “Hello, there. Just how can we help you, pretty lady?” He kept one hand on her face while the other lightly brushed her hand, which remained on his chest, just above where his shirt opened to reveal baby-smooth skin.

  She batted her richly mascaraed lashes at him and giggled again. “You know, I think I’m lost. One minute I was inside the bar looking for the ladies’ room, and then I was outside. Now I can’t even figure out how to get back in.”

  He uttered a tsking sound as the others closed the circle even more tightly around her. With a sickeningly sweet, condescending tone, the demon stroked her cheek as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Poor little, lost lamb. Just what are we going to do with you?” At his last words, his irises changed to blood red orbs.

  Greylyn firmly placed one hand against the demon’s chest, her other fist struck out with all her might. Skin and bone gave way underneath her small, thin hands. Not a death blow by any means since he was a demon, but enough to incapacitate him while she dealt with the rest. In his shock, the demon’s eyes quickly retreated to his regular human gray. Clutching his chest, he slumped to the ground as blood gurgled out of his mouth.

  The others jumped into action as the injured demon lay on the asphalt, writhing in agony.

  One down, three strapping demon cowboys to go.

  They attacked simultaneously. Her squat-faced thug dance partner grabbed her arms from behind. She keeled over as the other two rained down punches on her face and into her abdomen. A sharp jab straight to her nose accompanied by a nauseating crunching of bone, Greylyn was blinded with pain.

  Infuriated, she raised her face to glare at her attackers. “You’re going to regret that.” With one super-hard stomp of her cowgirl boots on the toes of the demon behind her, she heard a gush of air as he bent over in pain. She reared her head back as sharply as possible to collide with his face. He bellowed like a howler monkey before letting go. Staggering back, he cupped his hands over his face as blood gushed out of his broken nose.

  “Who’s next?” She swiped the blood dribbling down her own face with the back of her hand.

  The other two advanced with more caution. Backing up to get a running start, she maintained eye contact with the bigger, more aggressive-looking demon. Greylyn reached behind her back to grasp the hilt of her dagger. Its power flowed from her hands and up her arm in a warm wave. She unsheathed it and pulled it in front of her, gripping the weapon firmly by the intricate Celtic crest carved in the handle. Its blade shone with a cold, pale light of its own and was sharp enough to slice through a single strand of hair as it floated in the air while its jagged edges could saw through anything. Not many things could kill a demon, but that was exactly what the dagger was designed to do. And it did its job well.

  Greylyn sprinted towards the two standing demons. One turned and ran with a shriek reminiscent of a cartoon character’s reaction to seeing a ghost. The other stared her down while waiting for her to strike. Just a step before reaching him she jerked to the right. He lunged for where he thought she would be. But with an abrupt pivot, she swung behind him. Her dagger thrust upward into his back, finding its mark, the place where a human heart would reside. The serrated edges sawed through the beating muscle then ripped upward. The demon bellow
ed in pain before falling lifeless to the ground, red, slimy blood gushing out of his wound and pooling underneath his corpse.

  Panting for air to refresh her burning lungs, Greylyn peered around while wiping the blade on her jeans. Her dance partner had recovered. Rage peered out from under the blood-drenched hair partially covering his eyes. He stormed towards her, much like an NFL linebacker going for the quarterback sack. Blood cascaded down his face, his lips curled up in a menacing snarl.

  “Hey, there sweetie,” she teased as he stopped within a few feet of her. “Wanna dance?” His growl was all the answer she needed. They circled each other, never breaking eye contact. He moved first, swatting at her head with his long, muscular arms. She leapt back, but the palm of his hand whacked the side of her cheek with a resounding slap. Greylyn raised a hand to her face. Her cheek stung fiercely, but she grinned back at him.

  She had not realized just how much she missed the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of the fight until this moment. Her last few jobs had been benign, involving talking desperate people out of doing horrible things or just not jumping. Nothing that required violence. Until now.

  He barreled towards her with a guttural snort, like a raging bull in the arena. She quickly sidestepped and hooked her foot around his ankle. The thug face-planted on the rocky asphalt next to the back tire of the limo.

  With the dagger suspended above her head, Greylyn pounced on his back, jerking his head back by grabbing a handful of hair. The knife sliced through the bulging muscles at his neck, through his jugular vein. A final death thrash threw her off him just as his body slumped against the pavement.

  Asphalt pebbles wedged painfully into her skin. Before she could take a breath, the back door of the limo creaked open. Devon emerged in all his tall faux-cowboy glory. Red lipstick smudged his stark white shirt and around his mouth. Obviously, he had been enjoying his quality alone time with Jenna.