Page 4 of Rekindled Prophecy
“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 intoThe 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 theDon’t bother mevibe 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 vigilantly 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.