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  GUARDIAN

  Kerri Morrigan

  Copyright © 2020 Kerri Morrigan

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 979-8-6367-0844-5

  FINALLY, Merry Christmas, Twin

  Prologue

  May 30, 1431 - Rouen, France

  He’d always known she would burn. And that had never bothered him. After all, what greater gift for a human than to be given the chance to become a martyr and a saint? What was temporary pain in exchange for eternal glory? He’d have taken the opportunity in a heartbeat. But as her Guardian Angel, that wasn’t his place. He’d just had to keep her alive until then. And he’d succeeded. Spectacularly.

  Now, Joan was being paraded toward the stake by the bishop’s guards; her hands were tied with a hemp rope that left angry, red chafe marks on her wrists. She’d hated those ropes. In the quiet of her cell, he’d healed her delicate wrists more times than he could count. It was his way of showing her he was still there. Still … cared. He hated to use that word, but he couldn’t help it. He did.

  But his little sign had worked. She’d talked to him, for hours and hours, about her hopes, dreams, worries. She’d bared her soul to him, even though, with her talisman gone, he hadn’t been able to communicate in return. Without it, she hadn’t been able to see him. Hear him. Feel him. The tiny flow of his power as he’d healed her had been her only indication of his presence. For her, it’d been enough.

  For him? Torture. He’d found himself wanting to wipe her tears away, hold her while she trembled, share comforting words with her, pray with her. He’d never felt much emotion before — angels only experienced shadows of human emotion. At least, they were supposed to. But Joan had somehow put a chink in the armor. As the last few months had passed, he’d found it harder and harder to put ‘the mission’ before Joan and suppress those damn feelings that kept interfering with his judgment.

  The jeers of the boisterous crowd jostling for a better view grated on Kalev’s ears, pulling him out of his thoughts. Joan seemed to ignore them. She leaned stoically against the wooden beam, her gaze skyward. He tensed as the executioner approached her.

  “May I please have my ring?” Joan asked him.

  “No, miss, my apologies. No personal affects.”

  Kalev’s heart lurched. To anyone else her ring was just some religious bobble. But he knew what her words meant. She was afraid and wanted to see him, to find strength in his presence, to die while looking at him, to experience at least that tiny comfort while she left the world.

  “I’m here, Joan, I’m here,” he called out fruitlessly, as the executioner lit the tinder at the bottom of the woodpile. Despite his orders, Kalev wanted to take her down and carry her away from here. He had the power to, but his orders. They ruled him. He roared in frustration and flew toward her.

  “Dear Lord in Heaven, I will be with thee soon. I embrace your plan,” she chanted.

  Wait. What was he doing? He stopped himself half way toward her. She was right. This was the plan. The Divine Plan. He’d done exactly what he’d been asked to do. He’d successfully navigated every aspect of his mission down to the minutest detail. The Council would certainly be pleased, as would their superiors. His name might even be considered for a Council seat—one step closer to earning readmittance into Heaven. And Joan wanted to do the Lord’s bidding. She was ready. If she could do this, so could he. He would not break the Word.

  But as the flames crept higher, his mind neared panic.

  “Well, well, Kalev, here for the finale I see.” An icy voice said behind him.

  He froze. He hadn’t heard that voice in centuries. “What are you doing here?”

  “You haven’t seen your best friend in over a thousand years, and that’s how you greet me?”

  “We are no longer friends, Daemon.” Kalev turned away. Daemon was a stranger to him now. He didn’t need this distraction from Joan.

  “I thought you, at least, would still use my name.” Daemon moved from one side of him to the other, hovering annoyingly close to his ear.

  “You lost your name, along with my friendship when you betrayed us.”

  “You gave me no choice.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” He darted through the air away from Daemon, keeping Joan in view. Unfortunately, Daemon followed. Why did he have to show up now of all times?

  “You should be thanking me. I’m here to save you from making another grievous error.”

  Kalev wasn’t even sure what the first one had been. He tried to focus on Joan.

  “Are you not even curious?” Daemon said.

  “No.”

  “Fine. Pretend not to be. But I know you are. I know you feel something—”

  “Make your point.”

  “This is wrong. And you know it.”

  “This is the Word.” Kalev didn’t like where this was going. He could barely keep himself constrained as it was. He didn’t need Daemon pushing him to break the rules. Maybe Kalev should just break Daemon’s face instead. That would be quite satisfying right now. But he couldn’t afford to start a fight. Joan needed him.

  “And you know how much stock I put in ‘the Word’.” Daemon spat toward the ground.

  “That does not change what is.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But you can.”

  No, no he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What Daemon thought was right must be wrong. It was the wakeup call he needed. This was for the greater good.

  “I will never break the Word.”

  “Some things are more important than that.”

  “Nothing is more impor—”

  “Start thinking for yourself!” Daemon clenched his fists so hard they shook.

  Kalev couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You should follow your own advice! At least I don’t let the Devil think for me.”

  “You really have no idea why I’ve done what I’ve done. Do you?” Daemon’s reddened face was mere inches from his own. There were flecks of crimson in his once pure, ice-blue eyes.

  Kalev didn’t back down. “Not the slightest.”

  “One day, your precious ‘Word’ will come crashing down on everything you care about and, you’ll be willing to not only bend, but break, every damn rule ever laid forth.”

  “I’ll take that chance.”

  Daemon started to leave but then turned back. “You know, I came here because I thought that maybe you’d changed in a thousand years. Maybe, you’d woken up.”

  “You are the only one who has changed.” Lost his mind was more like it.

  “And here I was willing to forgive you. Well, fuck you. You’re no better than the rest of them.”

  Before Kalev could reply, Daemon disappeared.

  Questions swirled through his head. What did Daemon think Kalev needed forgiveness for? Why would he think that he’d go against the Word? Had he been spying on him? Had he somehow detected the weakness he had for Joan?

  “Kalev,” Joan whispered. It sounded like a plea.

  It cut through him. Painfully so. Too strong to overcome, too insistent to ignore. How could he just let her die in agony? How could he help her without betraying the Word? Daemon thought Kalev might be willing to, but he was wrong. He’d find a way within the rules or not at all. His mind raced, going over the exact words of his mission. There must be a loophole somewhere.

  Then it came to him. The Council hadn’t laid
out any particulars surrounding her death, only that she needed to burn at the stake. They didn’t say how long it had to last, how much pain she’d have to suffer, or whether she needed to die from burning or from smoke inhalation. So what if he made the ordeal easier for her? After all, she’d still die as ordained. Her body would still burn.

  In the next instant, he was by her side. He wrapped himself around her, letting his powers shield her from the smoke and flames. Her tightened muscles relaxed in his arms.

  “Thank you, Kalev,” she murmured.

  “It was an honor,” Kalev said softly in her ear. Then he released his power straight into her heart. With her last breath, she called out Jesus’s name. She went limp. He waited. He checked her for signs of life, but he couldn’t find any. She was dead, but he wouldn’t leave without helping to raise her soul.

  “Kalev, look up.” Joan’s spirit shined above him in resplendent glory.

  “You don’t need me to lift you.” He stared. This was possible?

  “No, it seems I do not.” She smiled. His whole body relaxed. The pain in his heart was gone. She was here. Her soul was safe. She would get her eternal reward.

  “May I accompany you, as far as the gates, anyway?” Kalev put his hand over hers.

  “I would like that very much.”

  Joan took one last look at the crowd. Following the path of her eyes. Joan’s siblings were standing far in the back. She faltered.

  “I will protect your family, Joan. Always.” He hadn’t intended to make such a promise, but now that he had, he knew it was right.

  “Thank you.”

  Together they ascended past the clouds, toward the entrance leading to eternal sunshine. His stared longingly at the immense, impossibly white gates. He could easily imagine the radiant glow of Joan’s smiling face in the sunlight that lay just beyond. He hoped that, one day, he’d finally earn his way back in.

  Chapter 1

  March, Present Day – Boston, Massachusetts

  She wasn’t sure how many times she’d looked up at the clock ticking on the wall, but Grace Lightbourne swore the minute hand was moving faster than it should. She had only processed half of the children’s case files she’d intended to. As a social worker at the Department of Children and Families, she had the realistic expectation that she’d never catch up with her paperwork, but today her stack was particularly high.

  “I’m not sure that staring at the clock will make it speed up.”

  She jumped at the sound of her boss’s voice. “I actually want it to slow down.”

  “Nervous about your date tonight?” Annalise smiled. “Don’t worry. Peter is super nice. He’s just your type. You’ll see.”

  Grace put on her best fake smile and fiddled with the ring she kept on a chain around her neck. “I hope so.”

  She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and sighed. She had no idea why she’d agreed to go on this blind date. She didn’t date. But she hadn’t wanted to crush Annalise’s enthusiasm, and she had assured her that he checked all the right boxes — smart, level-headed, dependable, organized, nice, well-groomed. What wasn’t to like? He had to be better than her last boyfriend. Right? But the stack of papers cast an ominous shadow across the desk. If she didn’t get through them, she’d never get to find out if Pete was really the dreamboat Annalise had sold her on. Maybe she should just cancel.

  “Grace? Did you hear what I said?”

  “What? Sorry, I was deciding what to wear.”

  “Your black lace cocktail, obviously.” Annalise flipped her hand as if she couldn’t believe Grace would consider wearing anything else. “And hon, I moved on from talking about your date like five minutes ago.”

  Oops. “Could you repeat what you said?”

  “Yeah, so I was saying, Matthew Harris is on his way in right now with the Donahues. The father notified us last minute that his company moved up his transfer date, so Matty needs a new foster family, ASAP.”

  “Has Matty’s aunt won her case yet?”

  “Still tied up in litigation, but I don’t think it’s likely. She’s too unstable.”

  “Do we have an emergency family lined up for him to go to until we find a more permanent situation? I could take him until then if need be.” She almost hoped that was the case.

  “I know how much you care about him.” Annalise put a comforting hand on Grace’s shoulder. “That’s why I assigned him to the Murphys. They were just approved as a foster family last week.”

  “Not the Murphys, as in Murphy Realty?” She couldn’t be serious.

  “And Murphy’s Luxury Cars, and Murphy’s Embassy Suites and the Murphy Foundation.”

  Grace’s jaw dropped a little. “Didn’t their foundation give the Wonderfund attached to DCF a grant for a million dollars or something?”

  “Three,” Annalise said. “They really want to get more involved with the welfare of Boston’s children. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Yeah, that’s great, Lise.” The fake smile was back. Grace wasn’t sure she trusted the Murphy’s sincerity. It was likely more of a PR move than genuine concern for children, but she couldn’t very well tell Annalise that.

  Grace sat back down at her desk and straightened the stacks of folders. Then the pens. She took a file down to look over. When she reached the bottom of the page, she realized she couldn’t recall a thing she’d read. There was no way she was going to be able to focus on these reports knowing that a more-than-likely-upset Matty would be there at any minute. He would need her. She should really cancel her date.

  Instead she logged into her email. One new message. Interesting. A new ancestral connection from her RootsandLeaves account had been posted. Her mouse was hovering over the link when Matty’s unmistakable voice carried over the cubicle wall.

  “Ms. Lightbourne?”

  “Hey, kiddo!” Grace greeted him as she walked around her desk. She was met with reddened eyes and a sniffly nose. “Are you alright, Matty?” She knelt in front of him.

  “They’re going away early,” he cried and hugged her. Grace held him tightly. Memories of her own foster experience threatened to surface. Taking a deep, calming breath, Grace drew back a little and smiled at him.

  “Why don’t you go get a nice, cold soda from the machine, and we can talk in the meeting room. Okay?”

  After making sure Annalise didn’t need anything for the paperwork, Grace went to Matty. He was sitting in one of the love seats, legs dangling over the edge but not yet at the floor. He held his chosen orange soda close to his body. She took the chair next to him.

  “Oh, that flavor is my favorite,” Grace said. Matty only continued to stare at the floor.

  She switched tactics. “Matty, you know that the Donahue’s really care about you right?” He nodded. “Did they explain to you what’s happening?”

  She waited patiently for Matty to say something. He slurped his drink a few times but didn’t look up. He wasn’t even going to talk to her? She bit her lower lip. What should she say next?

  But Matty finally spoke. “They have to go early.”

  She sighed, relieved. She could work with this. “I know this process is confusing and hard, but I promise that Ms. Clarke and I will do everything we can to make sure that you are happy and well cared for.” She put her hand over his.

  “Do you promise?” Matty’s big, innocent eyes finally met hers.

  “Promise. Tell you what, kiddo. I’m going to give you my phone number just in case you need me. Okay?” Grace quickly wrote her number down on a nearby post-it. He studied it carefully and then put it in his pocket.

  “Where am I going?”

  “Ms. Clarke just had a new family approved as a foster family— The Murphys. She said that they are really nice, and that you’d be the perfect fit.” Grace crossed her fingers – hopefully it was true. She’d been told that every time she switched families. Sometimes it was true, sometimes it wasn’t.

  “But I like the Donahues.” Matty tried to
fold his arms to make a point but managed to fumble his soda can enough for a few sugary orange droplets to spill over the side instead.

  “Matty, do you remember the day we met? You were here to meet the Donahues, and it was my first day.”

  “Yeah. And you were nervous!” He wrinkled his nose at her.

  “Yes, I was. But we agreed we’d both try something new together. And you ended up loving the Donahues.” When Matty didn’t disagree, she continued. “So, what do you say we each try something new again?”

  Matty tipped his head sideways and looked at the ceiling, considering her proposal. She stifled a laugh.

  “What new thing are you gonna do?” Matty leaned forward in his chair while swinging his legs.

  “I’m going to meet someone for dinner I’ve never met before.”

  “Ooooohh, like on a date?”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes, like on a date.”

  “So then will you fall in love and get married and adopt me?”

  “Matty, you know it doesn’t work that way,” she said, but he’d already grabbed her hand and was shaking it enthusiastically.

  “Deal.” He grinned from ear to ear.

  She guessed she couldn’t very well cancel now.

  When she had asked the taxi driver to hurry, she hadn’t meant for him to drive like a crazed maniac and clip the curb as he came screeching to a halt. A swath of water splashed up onto the sidewalk causing bystanders to jump out of the way. One particularly unfortunate man grumbled as he wiped at the lapel of his designer sport coat. She hadn’t wanted to get out of the cab in the first place, but now everyone was going to stare at her. Great.

  She tipped the driver, more for his effort than for his execution. She took as much time as possible getting her belongings together, then swung her legs out onto the pavement. The air was even colder than she had anticipated, sending shivers all the way up her spine. Why had she listened to Annalise? Even with the fit and flare, tan wool coat she’d splurged on two winters ago and her favorite black pashmina scarf, she was going to freeze with bare legs. She should have been sensible and worn trousers. But no, she’d put on her black lacy cocktail dress and the matching satin pumps that had been sitting in the back of her closet since college. She’d even bothered to put on makeup. No one could say she hadn’t tried.