Demon War: Shadowguard Academy Book 4 Page 13

  “That was taken on our first night of patrol,” Vivian speaks. “We were twenty.”

  My fingers trail over my mother’s face. So familiar, yet so different from what I remember.

  “You both look so young.”

  “We did,” Vivian agrees, taking a sip of tea. “Some might argue we were too young.”

  It’s funny; my plan has always been to train at an academy and become a Guardian upon graduation. But I never stopped to consider how young I would be—not until I see how young my mom and Vivian looked on the night of their first assignment.

  “How did the patrol go?” I lower the picture and retrieve the second cup of tea. This conversation has a high probability of turning sour. I might as well take advantage of the peace while I have it and learn as much as I can.

  “That night? Uneventful. But the following few couldn’t have been more different.”

  At my expectant gaze, Vivian continues, “Due to our age, our patrols tended to be centered on the city’s college campuses. They are a hot bed of rogue demon activity.” Then, she proceeds to tell me stories.

  I hear about the rogue vampires Vivian found feasting on a pair of NYU students in Central Park. She’d managed to decapitate one before my mother arrived, and the two had a hell of a time dealing with the second. She’d been an older, more powerful, vampire. The fight had almost been too much for the new Guardians to handle, but they won in the end, much to their commanding Guardians shock and admiration.

  I learn about how my mother discovered an exiled warlock performing spells on coeds, mostly females, trying to create a love potion to get one of them to sleep with him. The warlock had foolishly mistaken my mother for a potential victim. Needless to say, that didn’t end well for him.

  Story after story, I am immersed in the early years of my mother’s life as a Guardian. Vivian goes on and on, detailing the various encounters she and my mother had with members of the demon community, but not all of them were bad.

  I hear about how they rescued several mundane demons from local slave markets, and how honored the pair became in those secret communities. Vivian even mentions Victor and Gabe, telling me how the vampire and lycan were invaluable allies when she and my mother had trouble with anyone from their races.

  All throughout New York City, the pair became well-known for their fair treatment of lesser demons. Their missions started to include tasks from demon leaders who required their help, as well as the assignments given to them by the Shadowguard.

  “I was so lucky to be assigned Anya’s partner,” Vivian stares at the tea cooling in her cup. There’s a sad note to her words. “She fought tooth and nail to have us assigned together. I didn’t come from a particularly prominent family, but I was talented. No one in the Shadowguard could deny that. Anya caused quite the stir in order to get me as her partner.”

  She sighs, and her shoulders fall with years of sadness. “She was the best friend I ever had. Without your mother, I would’ve been lost. I would’ve spent my entire life blinded to the injustice of leaders in the Shadowguard. I would’ve become part of the problem, and even more lesser demons would’ve continued to suffer.”

  I know what Vivian means. I think of Olina, Mina, Ladros and all mundane demons working in this safe house. Their potential plight is sobering. If I’d never run into Belial at that bar, if Logan was never my mentor, if I never spoke face to face with lesser demons, I, too, would be ignorant of the truth in the world. I would’ve believed everything Head Minister Hendricks and the Council told me. I would’ve become part of the problem.

  “Were you there when she met my dad?” I ask quietly, afraid asking the question will break some unspoken balance hanging over us.

  “Yes.” Vivian stares at the landscape painting hanging over the top of my bed. Her eyes glaze over with remnants of a memory. “The two of them were goners almost the moment they met. To say their meeting seemed like Fate would be an understatement. I’d never seen Anya fall so hard.”

  Emotion threatens to clog my throat. I swallow it down. “But wasn’t she matched with someone before leaving the academy?” I ask. “Weren’t you?”

  “We were, but neither of us felt eager to tie ourselves down with a romantic partner.” Vivian looks away from the painting and gives me an impish grin. “To say our parents and respective partners were unhappy is an understatement. Charles still likes to remind me of my decision to this day.”

  “Wait.” I hold up a hand. My other hand holds the teacup, and the liquid sloshes precariously close to the edge with my sudden movement. “Charles was your match? And you turned him down?”

  “I didn’t turn him down,” she objects, taking another sip of tea, trying to hide her grin. “I simply told him I wasn’t interested in getting married until I lived a little. He was understandably bitter about it at the time, but he eventually came around.”

  Wow.

  I study my foster mother with fresh eyes. All my life, I saw her as Shadowguard Society’s version of a perfect wife and mother. I never would’ve imagined she’d go against the norm and refuse to be officially matched with a companion upon graduation. I never would’ve expected her to choose the Guardian lifestyle over the comfortable life she leads today.

  There’s so much I don’t know about the woman who raised me as her own daughter, and that realization is humbling.

  “Who was my mother’s match?” I ask, curious to know what poor sucker my mother turned down in favor of independence.

  Vivian’s lips press together. She looks away and exhales, clearly unhappy to be the one to share this news.

  With eyes turned down, Vivian murmurs, “Your mother was matched to the current head minister of the Shadowguard, Marlow Hendricks.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  No.

  No, that can’t be true.

  My mouth hangs open. I wait for Vivian to tell me she’s joking; my mom wasn’t matched to the man behind so much cruelty and injustice in our society.

  But Vivian’s somber expression confirms she’s not joking.

  She’s regretfully serious.

  The teacup shakes in my hand. I lower it to the mattress to avoid spilling.

  What kind of sick game is Fate playing?

  How could my mom have been matched with such a man—the father of the guy who, it turns out, is also my soul’s complement?

  The entire thing seems borderline incestuous. It’s alarming… for more reasons than one.

  “How does that happen?” The question escapes me as shock exposes my thoughts, bypassing any semblance of control I normally wield over my tongue.

  “We went to the same academy as Marlow,” Vivian explains. “He and Anya were the top students in our class. No one was surprised when the assessor matched them. They seemed like the perfect pair.”

  My stomach rolls.

  Memories of my mother and her overwhelming kindness consume me. We weren’t rich, but my mom used to give anything extra we had to the homeless lady who lived in the alley behind our apartment building. She made extra batches of cookies and gave them to the single mother next door. And she volunteered every Fall at the local food bank, packing meals for families to have during the holidays.

  My mom was so giving and so loving. How could someone like her be matched to someone as selfish as the head minister?

  “But no matter what anyone thought, Anya knew she and Marlow were not suited,” Vivian continues. Her words are an immense relief. “He was too engrained in the top tier of Shadowguard society—too blinded by prejudice and the status quo to ever consider reformative or revolutionary ideas regarding Guardian and lesser demon relations. Anya rejected the match immediately, much to the surprise and dismay of her family. Her parents didn’t speak to her for months afterwards.”

  “That sucks.” Again, my thought slips right out of my mouth.

  “Yes, it did. Anya was really close with her family. Losing contact with them was hard on her.”

  “But they eventual
ly came around, right?”

  “Not exactly. The Jansens resumed speaking with Anya, but they never stopped pressuring her to change her mind and accept the match with Marlow. They were incessant. The relationship between them was never the same.”

  Poor mom.

  “What about the head minister? Did he accept my mom’s choice?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Marlow was devastated and embarrassed. He’d had a crush on her since our first day at the academy, though your mother went out of her way to never acknowledge it. He spent two years doing everything in his power to gain her affection, but she never treated him as anything more than a friend.”

  I wince. Being friend-zoned couldn’t have been easy. A small part of me even feels bad for the younger version of Head Minister Hendricks—a very small part.

  “Marlow waited years for your mother to change her mind.” Vivian’s sad frown reveals her own pity for the head minister. “It wasn’t until Anya had been missing for more than a year that he finally turned his attentions to his current wife. Though, rumors say his family was responsible for that decision. I believe Marlow would’ve waited a very long time for your mother if it weren’t for their influence.”

  This is all so much.

  Because of my mother, Head Minister Hendricks might not have married his wife. He might not have had Logan.

  Again, I wonder what game Fate is playing. Of all the people in this world, why would Fate link Marlow Hendricks to my mother?

  “Do you think the head minister recognized me?” As a child, people always said I looked like my mom. I look down at the photo of her and Vivian on their first patrol. My mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes make it hard to see a resemblance.

  “I don’t think so. I’m certain he would’ve brought up the subject to Charles. The two of them were thick as thieves in their younger days.”

  Yet another realization that takes me by surprise.

  “I’m assuming he had no idea about my mom and dad?” From what I’ve learned, hardly anyone outside of my mom’s lesser demon allies knew about her relationship with my warlock father.

  “He did not,” Vivian confirms. “Again, I’m certain he would’ve broached the subject with Charles.”

  “Charles knows?” I watch her with unease. “About me? About… everything?” The fact I’m a half-Guardian, half-witch reincarnation of an original Guardian is a lot to process.

  She nods. “He does.”

  I lick my lips. “And… he doesn’t say anything?”

  She tilts her head. “What do you imagine he would say?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I always pictured Charles as this stand-up councilmember. It can’t be easy for him to know he let an abomination live in his house.”

  Vivian’s eyes soften with sorrow. “Aspen, Charles loves you. He’s less reserved with his affection, but you must know that. We both view you as our own daughter.”

  My chest constricts, but her reassuring words lesson some of the pressure that had been clenching my body’s most vital organ.

  “Are you sure?” I’m ashamed of how wobbly the question comes out. Tears burn the backs of my eyes.

  “Oh, honey.” Vivian abandons her teacup on the nightstand. “Of course I’m sure.” She leans forward, not caring about the cup on the mattress between us, and wraps me in her arms.

  I’m stiff at first, but then the tears begin to fall.

  Careful not to dislodge her arms, I move my teacup to the silver tray and snake my arms around hers. I rest my head on her shoulder and take a deep breath.

  This is what I needed.

  I think about all the nights I couldn’t sleep as a child. Vivian would crawl into bed with me and hold me until my eyelids couldn’t stay open. She’s always been patient with me. She’s never pushed me to do anything I didn’t want to do.

  And I never thanked her for it.

  My tears soak Vivian’s blouse, but she doesn’t say a word. She continues to hold me tight, gently rocking us back and forth as I free my emotion.

  “Thank you,” I manage to choke out.

  “For what, honey?”

  “This hug,” I grip her tighter. “For taking me in. For not treating me like I’m a freak of nature. I don’t deserve any of it.”

  Vivian leans back. Her hands move to cup the sides of my face, forcing my teary gaze to meet her own. “I would do it all again in a heartbeat, sweetheart.”

  Fresh tears blur my vision. I blink and several fall down my cheeks.

  Vivian gives me a tremulous smile. She runs a hand over my hair, soothing me like she did when I was a child. “I’m so sorry about Antonio,” she murmurs. “Charles and I wanted to come to you the moment we heard what happened, but we didn’t know how you would feel.”

  She means, she didn’t know if I would’ve accepted their help. I can’t blame her. Especially since I know what a shell of a person I’d been in those early weeks.

  I sniff, using the back of my hand to rub my nose. “I-I should’ve done something. It’s my fault he’s d-dead.”

  “No.” Her fingers press into my skin. “That is not true, Aspen. Azazel did this. No one else.”

  “But if it weren’t for me, Azazel wouldn’t have needed to kill—”

  “Stop it.” She releases my face and finds my hands, squeezing them firmly. “Listen to me when I say Antonio would never ever want you to feel responsible for what happened. He knew the risks of tying his lifeblood to the block on your power, but he cared for you and your safety above himself. He would never blame you for what happened.”

  My lip quivers. “Really?”

  “Yes, dear.” Her thumb comes up to brush away a tear. “Really.”

  I breathe deep through my nostrils, letting her reassurance wash over me. I doubt I will ever truly be “over” the role I played in my biological father’s untimely death, but I have hope that I won’t always feel so guilty. One day, I hope to let all the blame fall on the one who is truly responsible. One day, I hope to make Azazel pay.

  Vivian and I sit quietly. She holds my hand tight, but not so tight I can’t pull away if I want. Even if that’s the last thing I want at the moment.

  I feel a peace I haven’t felt in a long time—probably since the day my mom died, if I’m being honest.

  All this time, I’ve had parents looking out for me. Antonio gave up his life and went into hiding so no one could gain access to my powers, and Vivian raised me as her own flesh and blood because she loved my mother as a sister.

  I may have felt alone, but I never was. And I’m still not.

  I have family. I have friends.

  I have Belial.

  “What are you thinking?” Vivian tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

  I hope I’m successful at hiding my blush. “Nothing.”

  “Hm.” Her eyes twinkle, and she smirks. “It doesn’t look like nothing.” She brushes my cheek in demonstration.

  I shake my head in denial even though I can feel my blush deepen. “Nothing I’m ready to talk about,” I admit honestly.

  Understanding lights her eyes. “Understood.” With one last squeeze, she releases my hands and stands. “How do you feel about another visitor? Alexander has been worried sick since you lost consciousness. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

  “Sure.” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Just let me change and then he can—”

  My words are drowned out by the sound of a bone-rattling roar, shaking the walls of my bedroom.

  Then, every window in the bedroom shatters.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Picture frames fall off their hooks. The teacups on the nightstand crash to the ground, smashing into a dozen pieces.

  Barely a moment passes before the bedroom door crashes open. Vivian is immediately in front of me, wielding a dagger in one hand and her silver stylus in the other.

  Where did those come from?

  “Ladros!” I cry out. “Did you hear that noise? What is going on?”


  “Lady Aspen.” The guard assesses Vivian, only lowering his sword once my foster mother abandons her defensive position. “Come. We must hurry.” His urgent tone brooks no argument.

  I don’t think twice. I slip on my nearest pair of flats and rush towards him. Vivian stays close. She, too, doesn’t question the mundane demon. Tension and unease roll off Ladros’s shoulders in waves. Something has him spooked, and I don’t even want to consider what that could be.

  I’m following closely on Ladros’s heels when he makes a sharp, unexpected turn. I think he’s going to run into the wall, but then his fingers find a hidden button. A panel shifts, revealing a hidden corridor.

  “Go. Follow this walkway until you reach the next room. Master Belial should be there waiting for you.” Ladros practically shoves us into the dark space.

  “Wait!” I spin back around, throwing my hand out to keep the panel from closing. “What’s happening?”

  “We’re under attack,” he states plainly. Alert eyes examine either side of the hall, watching for signs of our unknown enemy. “Now, go. The sooner I close this panel, the sooner I can go help the others.”

  That’s the only thing he could’ve said to get me to shut my mouth.

  With a jerky nod, I step back and the panel slides closed. For a moment, Vivian and I are surrounded by darkness. I hear her mutter something quietly, then blue light illuminates the space. I glance at her stylus, the source of the light.

  Neat.

  “Well,” Vivian lifts her makeshift lamp and eyes the concrete walls around us. “I guess we should start walking.” She begins to move without waiting for a reply.

  At first, only the sound of our echoing footsteps reaches my ears, but then I hear muffled noises coming from the other side of the concrete walls. They sound frantic.

  “How are you so calm?” Inside, I’m freaking out about who, or what, could be attacking us. That initial roar hardly sounded like anything I’d ever heard before. I don’t know what kind of monster could make that sound, but my gut tells me it’s something bad.