Protector (5 page)

I woke with my brain fuzzy from the fantasy dream I’d had the night before, one which still gently floated around and kept me snuggly happy. Well, that was until I realized said dream was of one infuriating man named Davio Loveria.

Abruptly I dissolved that dream and bolted upright.

I grumbled and shuffled, on my bottom, toward the headboard. Leaning back, I listened to the chirpy sound of a Tui bird outside in the native Pohutakawa tree. At a guess, he had wished me a good morning.

I zeroed in on the Tui bird’s pretty call and turned up my receptors to a more satisfactory level. Simultaneously, I turned down the volume of passing traffic, not to mention blocking out my mother’s atrocious singing from her adjoining bathroom. Now there was a bonus.

Ah, sublime.

Perfect.

Only the pretty Tui bird’s trill left to fill the silence.

Finally, a more fulfilling start to the day.

Especially considering yesterday.

Oh boy, yesterday. Now there was a slice of reality.

Davio Loveria.

Nope, I wasn’t going to think about him.

Not worth it.

In fact, I would forcibly thrust him and his dratted recurring image from my mind.

Yeah, that’s better.

There’s precisely no need to go back there.

He was gone and so soon would Belle.

That was the way it should be. Pesky, Peacian people, be gone.

With that thought predominantly in my mind, and as the Tui bird flew away, I pushed back the covers and dropped my feet over the side of the bed and onto the cream carpet to begin my day. Eagerly, I dressed in a blue stretch t-shirt and shorts so I could go for my regular morning run before school, a run that had become important since my birthday last week. A need that must have something to do with my increased speed.

Racing through to my mother’s beloved kitchen, I skidded on the hardwood flooring and pulled open the white refrigerator door to grab a strawberry yogurt and a glass of water.

I made my way down the hallway and tapped on my mother’s bathroom door. My mother’s rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” came to a sudden halt at my insistent knocking. “Hey, Mum, I’m taking a run,” I yelled through the closed door.

“Be careful.”

“Will do.”

I cringed as Lady Gaga’s song resumed in my mother’s vocal disharmony. Time to go.

As I took Centennial Park Drive, my sneakers clipped across the pavement as I made the gravel entrance. The early morning sunshine beamed through the treetops, and I glanced left and right before checking my pace and slowing down my sprint so I appeared more like a normal morning jogger. None of this speeding along like a freak.

I half-smirked, half-groaned at the thought. Because I really was a freak.

Perhaps I should start a support group of other half-Magiolings. Surely, there were other bizarre by-products like me who’d had an ill-behaved parent who’d spread around unknown DNA as mine had.

Not such a farfetched idea.

One I couldn’t help but consider when it seemed I couldn’t get a certain man and his country from rolling around in my scrambled mind.

Two, three-mile circuits later, I pounded around the bend and back to my front door. I wiped my sweaty brow, feeling content as I stretched my muscles. Across the road, Belle exited her house. Three months ago, she, alone, had moved into the street’s newest residence, a large six bedroom, L-shaped home. It had been how she’d remained close to me.

Locking the front slider door, she strung her school bag over one shoulder and briskly headed my way. She wore skinny black jeans and a red t-shirt. Glancing left and right, she dashed across the road as a gap opened in the traffic.

I waited as she jogged up my front steps toward me. “Hey, Belle. I think I may actually miss you and your interfering butt after today.” I gave her a quick hug, one I recognized as perhaps our last.

She gave me her sweetest smile. “Well, I’m sure not going to miss you and your colossal temper.”

I laughed. “C’mon, let me just get changed for school. I won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

As promised, I was back, grinning as I heard Silvie’s beastie coming down the road. One couldn’t miss her car before they saw it–it’s disturbing and throaty loud engine manufactured somewhere in the late eighties.

But it was such a cute, sporty Mazda RX7, relic that it was.

Around the corner came her racy, gas guzzler. Repainted in arctic white, the tiny two-door model rumbled to a fast halt. She opened her car door, hopped out in her short floral skirt and yellow top and folded her arms across the top of her driver’s side roof. She pulled her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and peered over the top of them, toward me, then toward Belle. “Well, hop in, girls. This beauty of a car waits for no woman.”

I laughed as I shook my head at her.

Silvie gave me an all-knowing eye and impatiently tapped her fingertips on the top of the car’s pristine roof. “I know you’re internally cussing my car again, Faith Stryker. But it gets us around so stop pussy-footing around and bend yourself in.”

My grin widened. “I like your car. It’s loud and proud just like you are.”

She muttered under her breath as I flipped the lever and the front seat slid forward. “In you go, Belle. The cubbyhole in the back’s all yours.” I squeezed into my front seat and peered over my shoulder. “So, I have very little time left to quiz you. Why don’t you tell me something interesting about the king’s forethought, something naughty,” I said with a grin.

With no warning, Silvie squealed out into the traffic. A horn tooted, and Belle gasped as she checked our rear.

“It’s okay, we’re all good.” She wiped her brow as she settled. “I’m not going to miss these rides.”

“Sure you will.” I chuckled. “Now, something wicked, hmm.”

She sighed. “Right. Forethought and forewarning are highly sought after skills. Eventually you will be able to focus on someone you know and get an image of what they’re doing, or in the same vein, a visual forewarning when something damaging is about to occur. Your forethought is controlled by you, but your forewarning is not. Forewarning comes when you’ll least expect it.”

That was hardly wicked. It seemed there was no dislodging her loyalty and certainly not when she spoke of her king. Which meant I should take her words more seriously–and I was driven to try.

Because ultimately, the evidence was stacking up. I couldn’t deny our telepathic link or my ability to read projected thoughts when I was in the same room as someone. Then there was Davio’s sudden disappearance into thin air. Sure, I wasn’t convinced on Magio, but if I could work on pressing my forethought and eventually bring forth a visual of his country, perhaps…

“Okay, detail these images for me.”

“King Carlisio’s forethought appears as one would see a snapshot. Images can be from the present or memories returned from the past, or with forewarning, images of an event yet to occur.”

I thumbed my chin, recalling the wavering, illusionary image of Davio from yesterday I’d managed. My forethought was developing, but how did I press it harder? “I need more proof.”

“You want evidence?” Belle’s eyes twinkled. “That’ll come soon. Forethought, just like any other skill, is one that develops with practice as it grows into full strength as you reach your rising
.
So, by all means you should be actively applying yourself to your skill. In fact, King Carlisio reported that his father controlled a much stronger version. The old king could see more than just an image–he monitored a rolling feed of shots more similar to that of an actual event playing out like on one of your televisions.”

“Why is Carlisio’s forethought not as strong as his father’s?” I crooked my head. She’d said yesterday that higher skilled offspring resulted from mated matches, so that might mean... “Oh, Carlisio’s parents were not soul-bound.”

She nodded. “Yes, and in his case his ability is not at full strength, although the gene carries forward and it will certainly return to its peak in future generations.”

“Ah, I understand.” I fidgeted. “So explain to me how I can see Peacio.”

Silvie’s car screamed through the gates of the student car lot, her fast turn catching me off-guard. “Nice one,” I groaned, grasping my head before it hit the window. I wasn’t sure what was worse at times–her atrocious driving or her throaty car.

She laughed as she found a nice parking space, swerving in with unnecessary force. “Gotta love these old RX7’s.”

“You still alive back there?” I turned to check on Belle.

Silvie cut the car’s engine as she snatched out the key. “Hey, what do you mean is Belle all right? There’s never any thanks around here.”

“Ow, let me out of here,” Belle demanded as she pressed the spring lever to bound out after me. “No offense, Silvie, but I’m more than happy to get out of the back of your terror-ride.” She flicked her wealth of brown hair over one shoulder and fixed a smile in place. “You’ll be fine once I’m gone, Faith. We have our telepathic connection, remember?”

I scuffed my shoe over the gravel, hating to think I’d actually miss her. My gut churned, tossing into an awful mess as I realized I harbored some of the same feeling for Davio–for why else was I so curious about his family, his country. Sure, there was a need within me to find proof Peacio was real, to reason out the emotional rollercoaster ride I was on, but in a way I missed him. The dratted emotion stirred, one I had no intention of giving into.

My reality troubled me. Even my mind ached, as if somehow disconnected.

What was with that?

Could one mate feel starved of the other’s presence without their wanting it? I shuddered at the thought.

Time to move on.

And it did.

By that afternoon, Belle had gone. Sorrell had taken her away, and I’d watched as she’d shimmered and disappeared so quickly with the large male protector who’d been sent to collect her. Again, another sign Peacio was real–and they were adding up more than I could tear them down.

Even now, I was only partway home and feeling completely moody and seriously lost. Silvie had stayed after school for drama practice–as if she wasn’t dramatic enough–and now having no one to pester me was more than a little disturbing.

I kicked at a loose pebble, scuttling it across the path onto the grass as my traitorous mind moved back to Davio.

Always to Davio. Drat him.

How had it been so easy for him to go?

Then there was that moment he’d touched me and now never again.

I blew out a breath, wanting to shake my despair off. Nothing peeved me more than allowing any form of weakness.

Storming down the driveway, I winced as I caught my bag on the spiky gate left unlatched near our front door. I stumbled over the uneven path, wiping at my cheek. Oh hell, I couldn’t believe I was now crying.

“I would watch your step if I were you.”

My head jolted up as I slammed to a stop.

I inhaled slowly, turning fractionally.

A man.

A stranger.

He had short, light colored hair and was dressed in a night-shaded silk shirt and pressed pants, a thick black leather coat flapping heavily to the ground.

The way he stood, his legs braced wide, his gaze narrowed, brought me to full alert.

Then he moved, twirling around me in the blink of an eye. “Pay attention, Faith.”

I would if his speed wasn’t inhuman. “Do I know you?”

“No,” he stated simply, sharply.

I searched his gaze, shocked to find myself staring into violet eyes. My violet eyes. “Whoa, okay, who are you?”

The stranger circled me again, the intensity surrounding him as thick and as heavy as the dark trench coat which beat against his legs in the breeze. He crossed his large arms and growled, “I am a warrior, one who is warning you to steer clear of Peacio’s protectors. I’ve seen you with them.” His order was arrogant.

“Ah–” I drew in a deep breath, making myself find some words. “I don’t have much to do with them any longer.”

He flipped a hand at me. “They are our natural born enemy.” His collar blew up against his thick neck as he spoke, making him appear more than menacing.

“Meaning?”

He speared me with a dark look before looking over his shoulder, and his nostrils flared. “Damn it,” he swore, “we’ll have to pick this up another time. Carlisio’s been forewarned.”

“How do you know me? And who are–” I broke off mid-sentence as he raised a heavy baton.

For just a moment, he appeared anguished. “It must be this way. You will not forget, Faith. I will not allow it.”

My head spun, a swirl of gray clouding my vision for a brief moment. Or was it longer? I couldn’t tell.

“No, please, there’s no need to hurt me.” I blinked, stumbling backwards, hands up in instant defense. I was too slow.

My thoughts tangled in a jumbled mess as he brought the weapon down directly over my head.

I slumped heavily to the ground, wanting to hit out at him but my head splintered with pain and then nothing.