Guardian: Immortal sins; Eternal love series (The Guardian Saga Book 1) Read online

  For my beautiful mother Dorothy, and our wonderful friend Jamie—both of whom learned the truth before us.

  Chapter 1

  It’s been three days since I died, or at least that seems about right. My name was Callie. I was a red-headed, green-eyed mess of sun-loving freckles with lots of plans, but not much else. I was born and raised in the seaside village of Willow Leaf Cove—which is a pretty name, for a pretty place, but it’s hard to say if you’ve had a few drinks.

  I was always a bit of a daydreamer—born with my head in the clouds, my dad used to say. He was a good man my father; he worked hard to look after mom and me. He had high hopes for my future, so he was disappointed when I graduated senior year with average grades and no idea of what I wanted to be.

  I remember standing in the kitchen with him, looking at endless college brochures scattered across the counter. ‘I just need a year off,’ I mumbled, not brave enough to look up.

  ‘But it’s a waste of time Callie.’

  I pushed a few of the brochures into a pile. ‘I’ve only just finished high school dad. It’s not a waste of time. I have all the time in the world.’

  It was a Tuesday when I died—I was on my old red bicycle, riding down to the waterfront, with my best friend May. We rode side by side, pedaling in unison, our wheels whirring on the concrete footpath. We were both wearing sundresses—mine was yellow, like a sunflower.

  ‘So what do you think of Brad?’ May asked, with a poorly disguised grin.

  ‘Brad who?’ I asked casually, knowing very well that she was talking about the new waiter at a coffee shop we both liked.

  ‘I think he likes you,’ she teased. ‘He always draws a love heart on your coffee cup, next to your name.’

  I glanced at her. ‘He didn’t yesterday.’

  ‘Oh,’ May replied.

  My cheeks dimpled as I tried to contain a smile. ‘Yesterday…he wrote his phone number.’

  May’s mouth formed a perfect circle, and her eyes grew wide. The color drained from her cheeks, and I briefly wondered if I’d upset her. ‘Callie! Look out!’ she screamed, but it was too late.

  I didn’t see the car that hit me; I don’t even know why it left the road—all I remember was a bang, the sensation of flying, and then nothing.

  ‘Help! Somebody, please help!’ May’s cries drifted through the fog, and I held onto the sound of her voice until the darkness lifted. I struggled to open my eyes; all I could see was fuzzy green blades of grass. ‘Callie. Callie. Can you hear me?’

  I felt bad for May, I could hear the panic in her voice; I needed to tell her I was okay. I took stock of my body—nothing really hurt, I just felt strangely numb, and heavy. I tried to move, but the heaviness pressed down, keeping me where I was. I started to panic; I tried to cry out, to scream, but nothing happened. The pressure increased, squeezing the air from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, I was choking; it was horrible—then suddenly; it wasn’t.

  The heaviness lifted, and my body returned. Relieved, I pushed upwards, dusting the grass from my dress. The sun was bright, and I brushed a long curl from my face. A small crowd had formed, and I saw May huddled in the arms of an elderly woman.

  ‘May,’ I called out, but she didn’t hear me.

  Everyone but May stared at the ground, wearing an expression of stunned disbelief. I followed their gaze, expecting to see a crumpled car, maybe my bike, but what I saw was me. I lay face down with my head to the side; thick clumps of wet hair streaked my waxy face. A halo of crimson blood flowed outwards emphasizing the bright yellow of my sundress. I crouched down and stared at my lifeless green eyes, waiting for the horror to come, but instead, a strange calm left me almost disinterested.

  A mute call summoned, and I stood. The small gathering holding vigil over my broken body, had drifted into a circle. I caught a glimpse of my bike in the distance, and I had an overwhelming desire to see if it was okay. I weaved unnoticed through the crowd until I reached it—there were a few minor scratches, but otherwise, it looked fine. I felt an unexpected surge of affection for this inanimate object that had shared so many adventures with me.

  ‘Strange the little things that capture our hearts.’ I turned to see an old man beside me; his head tilted as he scrutinized my bike. ‘I had a bicycle like this once,’ he added. ‘It was fast; really fast. My friends and I used to race to the river. Beat them every time,’ he chuckled.

  He glanced at me with a soft smile. I examined his pale fuzzy hair and dark leathery skin. He wore a tawny suit, matching vest and paisley tie. His gray eyes brought a sensation that was hard to describe—a bit like I’d finally found home.

  ‘It is nice to see you again Callie,’ he said.

  ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘We have met once or twice.’

  I searched my memory for his face and a thought slipped to the surface. ‘Is your name Isaac?’ I asked.

  His lips puckered. ‘Yes, it is.’

  Wailing sirens sliced through the silence and I snuck a peek at the chaos behind. ‘Am I dead?’

  Isaac glanced over his shoulder. ‘I never did like the word dead,’ he commented. ‘I have always preferred departed, sounds more like a vacation, would you not agree?’

  His face erupted into a boyish grin, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I liked the way his cheeks wrinkled from his chin to his eyebrows, and I liked how he made me feel safe. I still didn’t know who he was, but I felt like a part of me did.

  ‘So was it a good one?’ he asked.

  ‘Was what a good one?’

  ‘That life you had?’

  I pondered the odd question. ‘Um, I guess so.’

  He clutched his hands behind his back ‘So what made it good?’

  I wasn’t sure how to answer this. Initially, I wanted to say sunsets, love, or Klimt paintings, but none of this seemed right. ‘Spaghetti and meatballs,’ I finally muttered.

   Isaac laughed. ‘I like spaghetti too.’ He held out his hand, and I found it easy to accept. ‘Come on; it is time to go.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It is your choice, but may I suggest somewhere you know, familiarity is a powerful anchor.’

  His explanation did little to dull the confusion. ‘I was going to the waterfront,’ I confessed.

  ‘Excellent, I have always liked the beach.’

  ***

  When we arrived at the waterfront, it looked just like it always had, with its long line of colorful houses and uneven wood boardwalk. Ruffled sand and endless blue surf stretched towards the horizon, and I could smell warm salt on the air. The only thing out of place was the lack of people. Isaac and I were the only ones there, I couldn’t even see one pesky seagull.

  We stood side by side admiring the view, listening to the perpetual tumbling of waves. I wasn’t scared, just slightly perplexed, but I knew there had to be more than this. ‘So what now?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘Now you must go back,’ Isaac replied.

  Bewilderment creased my forehead. ‘But you said I was dead.’

  ‘Departed,’ he corrected with a smile. ‘And you will not be returning to that life.’

  ‘I will be returning to a different one?’

  ‘You will be returning to many.’

  ‘Oh,’ I replied dumbly. Everything he said sort of made sense but not quite. ‘When?’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘But I only just got here.’

  ‘Here is not your destiny.’

  I nibbled
my bottom lip. ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘I do not have too.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I will already be there, in some lives more than others.’

  ‘Oh,’ I repeated before falling silent again. Isaac waited patiently as I examined his face, trying to pull answers from his time-worn skin. ‘But I don’t remember any other lives.’

  ‘None of us do, taking the memory of the past into the next would be too distracting, but we never lose them. They are stored, waiting for us to return.’

  ‘Stored? Stored where?’

  He cast his eyes out to sea. ‘Right there.’

  I scrutinized the cloudless blue sky. ‘But there’s nothing there.’

  He smiled. ‘The water Callie, your memories are the water.’

  In reaction to his words the waves surged, I wanted to run but Isaac placed a hand on my shoulder, and the calm returned.

  ‘Is this how it is for everyone?’ I asked.

  ‘It depends on where you choose. If you had picked the desert, your memories would be the sand. If it were a library, each book would be the story of you. But most souls are drawn to water. I think it is because we are liquid beings destined to move and change. Look and you will see.’

  I turned away not ready for this, but the ocean called. I tried to ignore it, but the pull was too strong. I peeked back; the surface was transparent now, and I could see into its depths. Images drifted on the currents and voices evaporated into the air. There were snippets of conversations, laughing and crying. It was hypnotic; I felt the love, the heartache and a sense of belonging.

  Isaac’s touch fell away, and a wave slid short of my feet. I crouched down, extending my hand, waiting for the next one to come. The water eased closer, closer; closer—it caressed my fingertips, and suddenly the world swirled away. I was in another place, in another time, standing in a field wearing old, dirty clothes. Lifeless brown material covered my head, and I felt an ache in my back from carrying potatoes. But I was laughing, filled with happiness and the satisfaction of hard work. A heartbeat later I was back, crouching on the sand, watching the wave retreat.

  I examined my fingers; they were perfectly dry. I felt the most overwhelming sense of relief, like I had found the thing I had been searching for, and I now knew exactly what to do.

  I glanced up at Isaac. ‘Will you wait for me?’

  He grinned. ‘I always do Callie, I always do.’

  I can’t tell you in human years how long I spent in the water. I remember wading out, surprised that it felt silky rather than wet. Then I was gone, lost in my past, trawling through life after life.

  The first few were the hardest. It was strange watching myself from outside, yet still feeling everything. There were so many moments I wanted to change, but I soon learned this wasn’t an option. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how horrible the event, it was fixed and no amount of screaming or pleading could change a thing. I was an eternal tourist to my own existence, and I just had to accept it.

  It took a while, but I finally relaxed, realizing the value of my mistakes. It was a hard but effective way to learn; each lesson was seared into my soul by pain, love, and every other emotion in between. Each event had purpose, and I also rediscovered the other souls who helped me during my journey. All of them played a role in my life and I too in theirs, we helped each other with both kindness and cruelty. And then there was Isaac—no matter who I was, or what I did, Isaac was always there. Sometimes he was an important figure, other times I met him only once or twice, but he was always there.

  In between lives, there was a period when I would find myself floating on my beautiful sea. This was the time between the last me exhaling her final breath, and the new me inhaling her first taste of air. These occasions were always peaceful, and they were a chance to let everything settle. Each life pushed me further from the shore, but no matter how far I drifted I could still see Isaac, like a statue on the beach—always on guard, always watching.

  It went on like this for many more lives and I got used to the routine. So, when I woke up after a life, not too different from so many others, I was not ready for how my ocean had changed.

  As I drifted free of the life I’d just relived, my floating soon turned to flailing. I burst through the surface only to find it whipped up by a harsh wind. I could barely keep my head above water as I looked up at the boiling gray sky. Suddenly a rogue wave forced me under, and I had to fight to resurface. It was so cold, and my shivering made each gasp for air painful. I didn’t know what was happening. As I lifted with the next wave, I searched the beach for Isaac, but he wasn’t there. The heavy weight of fear numbed my aching legs, and again I went under. My nose filled with water and the world turned murky gray. I kicked and kicked, but it was like swimming through mud. Small beams of light filtered from the surface and I tried to swim towards them, but it was as though hands were clutching my ankles. The water muffled my desperate screams as the last trace of strength left my limbs. Adrenalin could no longer sustain my fight, so I relaxed, submitting to the inevitable. Cotton wool silence filled my ears, and everything calmed as my hair floated around my face. A gentle darkness rose, and I let myself sink into it, but as the last of the light drained away, I could have sworn I heard a beautiful voice, echoing through the water. But it was too late; I was already gone, thrown into a life that should have never been forgotten.

  Chapter 2

  The Middle East

  144 AD

  I watched as my father pivoted from side to side, his rich robes glimmering as he shifted. In front of him, a huge gilded disc reflected his likeness, mimicking his every move.

  ‘Come Callie,’ he said, his voice filling the Great Hall. ‘You can see my whole body.’

  My bottom lip quivered. Didn’t he know how much I hated mirrors? Didn’t he see the servants covering them at night, to stop our wandering souls from falling in? There were so many in the palace already, dangerous holes leading to the underworld. Why would he want another in our home?

  I glanced at the traders; with their buttery skin and slender eyes, only the worst kind of demon would possess a mirror this size. Why was I the only one who could see this? This disc was as tall as a man and wide as a pillar; likely to swallow every soul in the room.

  I stepped back finding comfort in my mother’s legs.

  My father’s scowl declared his impatience. ‘Now Calanthea,’ he demanded.

  My mother nudged me forward. I looked at Isaac; he nodded reassuringly. It seemed no one would help me. ‘Yes m…my Majesty,’ I whimpered.

  My brother huffed as I shuffled towards our father, my eyes fixed on the stone floor below my slippers. He stepped back giving me access to the mirror; I didn’t want to look up, but I’d already disobeyed too long. With a steadying breath, I lifted my chin.

  ‘See Callie, there’s nothing to fear.’

  At first, everything was blurry, but then an image swam into view. A rough gasp cooled my throat—the girl standing in front of me was so clear I could’ve touched her. Her wide, green eyes and smooth, black hair made her white skin even paler, and the world around her mimicked mine. I was trapped for all of existence, and the wail that surged from the pit of my stomach was silently echoed by my now lost soul.

  I spun on my heels fleeing past countless doorways and startled slaves, not caring about my father’s reaction. I darted into an old stores room and crawled behind an earthen jar; it reeked of mold and unseen creatures scampered back to their holes. I buried my face in my knees rocking back and forth hoping I’d never be found.

  ‘Calanthea, are you in there?’

  I opened my eyes. How had Isaac found me so fast? I swallowed, and my throat stung. ‘Yes.’

  The dim light flickered as a silhouette hobbled in and crouched down. ‘What are you doing silly child? You are lucky your father found humor in this, or there would be trouble.’

  ‘It trapped my soul. Didn’t you see? The mirror had me.’
r />   Isaac eased onto the dusty floor, swollen joints stifling his movements. His wispy white hair and parchment-like face were hard to see, and I could only just make out his clear gray eyes. ‘What I saw was a young princess doubting herself. Belief is a powerful thing. Your soul cannot be taken if you know it is your own. Next time you should try smiling. I think you will find the girl smiling back quite beautiful.’

  I searched Isaac’s face absorbing his kindness. He was more than my father’s most favored advisor; he was my one and only friend. My face tightened in concentration. ‘Was my brother braver than I?’ I asked.

  Isaac chuckled. ‘Of course. But he is the future king, he must be brave.’

  I scowled. ‘It’s not fair, what if I want to be king?’

  ‘You do not want to be king.’

  I straightened with defiance, not sure if he was mocking me. ‘Why not?’

  His pale teeth shone in the gloom. ‘Because you have far more important things to do.’

  I gasped at his disrespect. ‘What could be more important than being king?’

  He leaned closer. ‘Being you, my little majesty, just being you.’

  ***

  The mirror—once again it held my reflection, except this time the person looking back was neither scared nor child.

  Time had dulled the surface but not the clarity. The opulent dress heavy on my shoulders, and the crown hurting my head, were devastatingly clear. I could see the thick makeup staining my face, and the sadness that still crept through.

  Ten years ago, my father had traded a fortune for this object, and now I was the only one left to look in it. The reflection of my father, mother, brother and even my reliable Isaac had been lost to it forever. Some said the strange illness was a punishment from the gods but that made little sense. My father was a god. Why would they take him so soon? No one else had been sick, just my family and Isaac. It’d all happened so fast, and every morning I awoke to a nightmare where everyone I loved was gone. I didn’t understand why I’d been spared. How was I supposed to rule a nation? That was my brother’s fate, and even though I was eighteen, I had no knowledge of such things.