The Guardian Michael (Brotherhood of the Guardians #2)

By Laura Browning

Two centuries as a vampire has left Michael Hastings wondering if a long, lonely existence is as good as it gets. But when love finds him, it will force him to choose between what he wants and what he knows is right.
Molly Little’s life changes from a horror story to a fairy tale thanks to men she’s sure must be guardian angels. Nearly blind from birth,she can't see her heroes have fangs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Browning
• Release date: Oct 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465996794

Laura Browning

Laura Browning graduated from the University of Missouri with a degree in Journalism mainly because a wise person, namely her father, suggested Journalism might be a steadier income than trying to write romance. She has worked in television markets in Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri and North Carolina. In 2001, she won a Regional Emmy for her work writing and producing. After dealing with reality for far longer than she should have, the urge to spin stories from the fiber of fiction outweighed her desire to report only the facts. Now she combines her writing career with teaching English. Browning lives in the South with her husband, son, and a menagerie of animals that runs the gamut from horses to a lizard. When she's not writing, she enjoys reading, photography, baking and contemplating actually having time to ride her horses.

Book preview

Prologue

Upper Peninsula, Michigan

Present Day

Michael quivered in the icy air, his deep cry of rage and pain echoing along the deserted peninsula. Around him were the shattered remnants of what had once been several boulders and a half dozen towering fir trees, now snapped like matchsticks. To the human eye the damage looked like the aftermath of a rockslide from the hill above, perhaps caused by ice that had swollen, weakened and eventually cracked the granite, but any vampire would recognize what it really was—one of their own out of control. The amazing thing was, amid the destruction, there was no human or animal carnage.

Michael could only thank God. Knowing his control had slipped was one of the reasons he’d fled from his brothers and Gabriel, in particular. Breath puffing in clouds, he surveyed the havoc his temper had wreaked. He felt no shame. A few pulverized boulders were better than a killing spree, and his rage had been great, building over the last several months. Tonight had just been the final straw.

Six years. Michael quivered with injustice. He’d lost six years because of Gabriel’s edict. Well, he would lose no more time. He was going home. He would find Molly and make her remember him, no matter how good a job Gabriel had done erasing her memories. She wasn’t a child anymore. She was a woman, so no one could take her away.

Molly had always been his—first to protect, then to cherish, and finally to love. Now she was an adult, right and wrong was no longer a factor. They could be together as they were meant to.

What if she didn’t remember him? Never remembered him?

Michael’s heart twisted, but he pushed the fear away as he brushed his heavy hair off his forehead. He would make her love him. He had been her hero before. Now he just wanted to be the man she loved. He might not have the psychic abilities of some of his brotherhood, but he had other weapons. He’d use his patience—though that wasn’t obvious at the moment—his skill as a hunter, and his knowledge. He knew her better than anyone, maybe even better than she knew herself. After all, Molly had been just a teenager when he first found her.

He’d watched her grow up. But then he’d gotten too close, and asked Gabriel to erase her memory of him because he’d thought that was the right thing to do…until he found out Gabriel hadn’t stuck to his own advice.

Part One

"Once I knew only darkness and stillness...my life was

without past or future...but a little word from the fingers

of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness,

and my heart leaped to the rapture of living."

Helen Keller

Chapter 1

Somerset, England

Eight years earlier

Michael was taking a trip into his human past, but this was purely business. He’d shaken the dirt of Somerset off his shoes long ago, way before he met Gabriel and became one of The Guardians. Meeting Gabriel St. Michael had changed his life. They’d worked together since the mid 1800’s as Guardian Investments with a select list of investment clients, but there was another side to their partnership.

As The Guardians, they worked under Gabriel’s leadership. The mission was simple enough—prevent humans from discovering the existence of vampires. Other than the pages of a Bram Stoker novel or the flickering images of a Bela Lugosi movie, they must remain undiscovered.

That was why Michael now navigated the narrow, winding roads of rural Somerset. Rumors had reached London, and they had to be checked out.

The Guardians might be different, but there were vampires who fit the mold of monsters...not only feeding on human blood, but killing in the process. The Guardians hunted animals. Others like them blended so well into the human population, finding them wasn’t always easy. Not all vampires were so choosy. Their carelessness posed a threat.

Michael had taken this assignment out of curiosity. The location was near where he’d spent his human childhood. As for rogues, he doubted there was any validity to the rumor he’d been sent to check. That was part of his problem.

A growing sense of ennui haunted him. Forever could be a long time. He hoped this trip down memory lane would give him a jolt. Boredom could be fatal. Their rivals were dangerous.

He pulled into the village, so close to his ancestral home. Some things had changed a lot in nearly two hundred years, like the roads, but other things…not at all. Time might have stood still, except cars and trucks had replaced horse drawn wagons and carriages. Dunster looked much the same.

Michael checked at the local market and asked for directions to High House, an addition since he was last in the area.

You’ll not be wanting to go there, young man, the woman behind the counter said, batting her lashes at him. The rumor is ’tis haunted since the Littles abandoned the place.

I’ll take my chances. Michael smiled charmingly, holding her gaze. You were a great help. You’ll remember only that I asked for directions to Minehead after I leave.

She smiled a little vacantly. Minehead. That’s right.

He slipped out quickly. Mind control wasn’t one of his strengths, so if she was to forget him, he had to keep his interactions brief.

So she thought High House posed some threat. Interesting, but hardly something to concern him. Almost anything she perceived as a threat, he could eliminate with one swipe of his hand. He was one of his brotherhood’s best fighters, not that he went out of his way to prove it. Gabriel avoided violence whenever possible.

Instead of immediately approaching the house, he held back to observe. Saying the last occupants had abandoned the house was curious. She hadn’t said they’d moved or even left, simply they’d abandoned it—like one moment they were there and the next gone. Were they victims of rogues?

Gabriel had picked rumors of vampires nearby. Based on his research, the area did have some unexplained deaths. Still, Michael couldn’t believe they were dealing with more than one rogue…if any.

As night fell, he left the Land Rover and walked silently toward the isolated house. The breeze off the moors brought the scents of others who had passed this way, but not recently. If his sense of smell weren’t unusually keen even for a vampire, he would never have noticed. Faint light shone from the back where the kitchen was most likely located. Odd. Lights weren’t something a rogue would use. When one possessed perfect night vision, electric lights were merely for effect. Maybe the house wasn’t deserted after all.

Other than that single window, High House showed signs of abandonment. Weeds choked the overgrown garden, and a shutter on the second floor tilted at an odd angle as if its support had disintegrated. A burning light didn’t fit such extreme neglect, and Michael didn’t like it when things didn’t fit.

He took another step toward the front entrance and halted, sniffing. Far from being abandoned, he now realized the house was still home to at least one person. A young female. She was frightened and angry. He smelled both emotions even before he entered the house. Definitely human not vampire, and yet, there was something else in her scent, something Michael couldn’t quite pinpoint. But the human overpowered the other, making him even more curious as to where the rogue rumors arose.

He skirted the house, listening as well as scenting. She was alone, and it smelled like she had been for a while, though he picked up recent visits from at least two other human males. There were no scents indicating family, something else out of sync, for the female’s scent was a girl, not a woman. Fear predominated, but he sensed loneliness and despondency too.

Piano music spilled onto the night air. Rimsky-Korsakov. Scheherazade. An unusual choice for a child, but finely played. It must be a recording. Such a young female surely couldn’t play so feelingly, but he sensed her changing emotions running just a beat ahead of the music as if she were indeed the one playing. Human emotions were such an open book in most cases. Even among the most poker-faced subtle changes in scent gave them away, like the animals the Guardians hunted. Perhaps this female wasn’t as young as he suspected.

Upon finding the door to the house unlocked, he slowly and silently opened it. Several bricks tumbled from just above the door and nearly smacking the top of his head had he not instantly deflected them. They did little damage, but it was irritating. The house was in worse repair than he thought, and certainly not safe for a child.

When Michael was able to step inside, his brows rose. His kind had been here before.

With a whoosh, something flew at him from the side. He grabbed it with reflexes honed from years of hunting. A coat on a hanger, rigged on a pulley and string. Childish, but clever, and had he not been able to see so well in the darkness it would most certainly have hit him. He looked down just in time to avoid a trip wire, and agilely stepped over it. Amusing, irritating, but certainly not an issue for him or any vampire. So the house was booby-trapped. Against whom?

The music stopped. From the next room, the faintest fluttering breaths disturbed the heavy silence.

Whoever you are, a hoarse voice called, failing miserably at hiding the tremor of fear underlying it. Get out or I’ll shoot.

The terror and anger were easy to sense. He moved to his left. The first thing that struck him about was this room’s barrenness compared to the rigged-up front hall. A table and chair, a bed pushed into the back corner, and a piano which dominated the center. Heavy drapes covered the windows, letting no light in or out.

He saw her then, tiny and trembling.

You don’t want to shoot me, he murmured. She stood in the shadows, the dull glint of a gun in her hand. Real or toy, it didn’t matter. At most, it would only slow him for a moment.

But I will. So go away. There was just a trace of fear behind the threat in her voice.

Enough games.

In a flash, he held her in one arm, her body firmly pushed against his side while he examined the pistol he held in his other hand. No ammunition, no trigger mechanism. Completely useless. He tossed it aside. The girl struggled, but made no noise. That surprised him. In his experience, young human females were entirely too vocal. They screeched and screamed, giggled and tittered. But not this young. He examined her as if she were a bug caught on a pin—small, pale, with tangled, dark hair. She felt frail against him and quivered like an animal caught in a trap.

Where are your parents? He attempted to soothe her with his voice. Surely they’ve not left you here alone?

Now she laughed. Bitterness far older than her years rang loud and clear. They’re gone.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, darting around the house. You’re alone? This time his outrage bled through into his voice. How old are you?

She pushed against him, and he let her go, simply to see what she would do. She ran to the piano, her hands frantically scrabbling along the length the sheet music stand, except there was no music there. Her movements triggered something deep inside him. These were not the clumsy movements of someone having trouble seeing in the dark, these were the delicate movements of someone used to searching for things with her hands, someone who was always in darkness.

She came at him then, a knife in her raised fist. Michael disarmed her with ease.

Stop, girl. I’m not here to harm you. My name’s Michael Hastings. I was sent here to check out the area.

She froze. Are you a constable?

No.

He reached over to turn on the lights. This time she did cry out, and when she couldn’t get her hands free, she turned her face toward his ribcage to hide her eyes, but he’d seen them. They were the palest aquamarine, yet where her pupils should have been was an opaque milkiness like cataracts. God in heaven. She must be blind or nearly so.

Who are you? Michael felt a twist of some emotion he vaguely recalled as pity. It made him uncomfortable that this human girl should recall his own humanity. Come girl, I’ve already told you I’m not here to hurt you. What’s your name?

She leaned her forehead against him in resigned exhaustion. Molly Little.

Not all the Littles had abandoned their home.

How old are you? Michael put one hand under her chin to tilt her face to him, but she closed her eyes self-consciously. She must be aware they looked different.

Thirteen.

A tough age to be different. A tough age to be alone.

Where’s your family, Molly?

Gone. Her mouth twisted. They left. Without me.

The anger and hurt in the last two words told Michael everything. Human emotion stirred again. Simmering anger against the people who’d left this child to fend for herself replaced his earlier boredom. Judging by the defensive traps she’d set and the scents he’d picked up outside, she hadn’t been left entirely alone. He glanced down to find her squinting at him.

Does the light bother you?

It…it just takes a little while to get used to it.

Would you like me to turn it off?

She shook her head. Then I can’t see at all.

She preferred some light in the darkness of her world, yet she’d gone without it, no doubt from fear. Michael cupped one hand on her thin shoulder. Have you eaten?

There wasn’t much left…and it smells bad in the kitchen, so I came in here to play.

That was you? He couldn’t keep the doubt from his tone.

She stiffened and pulled away. You see anyone else?

So young to have such a chip on her shoulder. Michael moved his hand to brush her tangled hair from her face, and she threw her arm up in defense. Obviously Molly had dealt with more problems than just poor vision. He brushed her hair back as if he hadn’t noticed her move. It felt like the finest silk beneath his fingers.

Why don’t I fix you something to eat, and you can continue to play. Michael wasn’t sure what prompted his offer. He could excuse himself and leave. There were no vampires here, so his job was done, but he would not renege on his offer.

How long since she’d had a decent meal? She didn’t trust him, but she was obviously so hungry she could barely stand it. Finally, she nodded and sat at the piano. She hesitated just a moment then picked up with Scheherazade exactly where she’d left off, almost as though she read the music.

Amazing.

Michael found the kitchen, and the sights and smells made him recoil. Dirty dishes were piled everywhere, and some broken plates and glasses littered the old slate floor. Food looked like it had been deliberately left out to spoil.

When Michael opened the refrigerator, he was puzzled. Things were not where they were supposed to be, as if someone had carefully—and intentionally—switched food to different containers. Mustard in the jelly jar, mayonnaise for peanut butter. He frowned. Maybe there was good reason the girl had parts of the house booby-trapped.

Michael wasn’t much on cooking since he seldom consumed anything other than blood, but he did find some edible cheese and crackers, plus an apple, only slightly wrinkled but still salvageable. Not much, but it would be something. Then he would be on his way so he could inform the human authorities—anonymously of course—and someone would come care for the girl. None of his business. There were no rogues. Whoever targeted the girl was human, not vampire. His job was done.

She stopped playing as soon as he stepped in the room, as if she already knew he’d returned. Interesting. He must be slipping. Michael thought he’d moved as quietly as always, but if a human was able to hear him, he was indeed slipping.

I’ve brought you crackers…

Cheese, and an apple, she finished.

How do you know? he asked her, his curiosity piqued. Can you see those?

No. I smell them, just like I smell you.

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her heart-shaped face with cautious interest and just a small tingling of alarm. She would be a beautiful woman, if she lived. The question was…could he let her?

And what do I smell like? He kept his voice so quiet most humans would be unable to hear him.

The woods. She paused and furrowed her brow. No, more like Christmas.

Michael couldn’t help himself. He laughed. She frowned and set down the apple slice she was about to eat. What a prickly thing.

Don’t be angry. Tell me how I remind you of Christmas. Again he spoke quickly and quietly, but she had no difficulty following the speed or volume of his speech.

Her expression was guarded. You smell like pine trees and bayberry.

Better than roast goose or sugar cookies.

She dipped her head and her hair fell forward to hide her face, but not before Michael saw her slight smile.

Ah, so you can smile.

She nodded and returned to eating. She did so delicately, but with a focus that showed how hungry she was. Had she refused to fix anything because of the switched food he found, or because she was scared to go in there with her limited vision handicapping her?

So tell me, he said casually as she finished the last of the snack, who torments you?

Her expression closed. No one.

Don’t lie, Molly. I found much of the food in the kitchen opened and spoiled, or switched to different containers. Only someone trying to cause you problems would do such a thing. You’ve booby-trapped parts of the house. So let’s not have any lies between us. I’ve finished my business here, and I have neither the time nor the need to remain.

Panic widened her eyes, but just as quickly, she mask it under a veil of casual indifference. So why bother me to begin with?

Another stab of human emotion. Michael closed his eyes against the heart-rending expression that flitted across her face. Fear and loneliness. It rolled off her in suffocating clouds. She was not his concern.

I’ll let the authorities know…

No! Her hand fluttered toward him, landing on his arm. They’ll put me in a home somewhere. They’ll take my piano.

She ran for the front door, her hand out in front of her, but she couldn’t see the booby trap Michael had stepped right over, the trip wire sat ankle high, and she had obviously forgotten it. Molly stumbled. Michael made no attempt to disguise his movements as human as he caught her before the suit of armor toppled on top of her. He steadied it with one hand and cradled her with the other. She weighed almost nothing.

Are you all right?

Please don’t tell anyone I’m here, she pleaded.

He sighed. I can’t just leave you.

He set her on her feet and moved slightly away. As sensitive as she was to hearing and touch, it would be foolish to be too near her for any length of time. She would pick up far too easily on the differences between them.

She was crying. She didn’t sob noisily like Michael would have expected a girl her age to. This was far more disturbing because the only thing giving her away were the tears he could smell.

Who’s harassing you? Michael asked again.

I don’t know, she whispered. They come at night when I can’t see them.

Will they come tonight?

No. At least I don’t think so. They were here last night. I hid so they couldn’t find me, but I heard them in the kitchen.

He studied her pale face and frowned.

Do not get involved. Gabriel said it again and again. They must never become too involved with the humans. They must not interfere in their lives. Interference would only lead to discovery. The Guardians existed on a different plane than humanity, as it should be. Gabriel discouraged any but the most casual contact. It made for a very lonely existence. Solitude might suit Gabriel, but Michael enjoyed interaction. Sure, there were friends among his brotherhood, but sometimes, he wanted more. Like now.

How could he leave this nearly defenseless child alone? Maybe the purpose for this trip had simply changed. Something about her intrigued him. Not only did she appear to have incredible musical talent, her heightened senses made were amazingly vampire-like.

Who was she? There had been just the faintest scent remaining of others of his kind. He needed to see what he could find out.

I must leave for now, but I promise to return tomorrow. We’ll sort it out then.

She extended her hand. As he took it gently in his, he noticed her long, slender fingers and the surprising strength of her grip.

You won’t tell anyone about me? Her beautiful, clouded eyes stared at him pleadingly, looking for some sort of an answer.

No.

She nodded and sat at her piano. Michael had been dismissed. Once an heir to an earldom, and he was now dismissed by a tiny slip of a girl who managed to give off an air of such innate haughtiness, despite her tangled hair and the smudge of dirt on her cheek, he wondered again just who she really was.

Chapter 2

Michael hunted as soon as full darkness descended. If he planned to spend any more time with Molly, then he wanted to avoid the temptation of her scent. Like the rest of The Guardians, he avoided preying on humans, but the aroma could still be overwhelming. And hers was. He wasn’t sure why.

It didn’t take long to catch the scent of a roe buck. All thoughts of the girl fled as he hunted, his senses taking over completely until he finished feeding. But as he bathed in a nearby stream, reason reasserted itself.

What the bloody hell was he supposed to do about the girl? Unlike his other cases, this one made him uncomfortable. He should just contact the human authorities and walk away. Exactly what Gabriel would do. With no threat from vampires and no threat to them, prolonging the contact put them in danger. But he couldn’t get her panic out of his head. They would take her piano away. She’d said it like most people referred to being put to death, but perhaps that’s what it would be to her.

What must life be like with so little sight? Why had no one helped her correct it? As developed as her other senses were, the problem couldn’t be of recent onset. Her sense of smell and hearing were so acute she could almost be a vampire. The thought made him grimace. A vampire child. Even the rogues he’d taken out over the centuries weren’t so foolish as to turn a child.

Her fears about being taken away from her piano were likely justified. If Michael informed the authorities she was there, at best she would be placed in a foster home. Who would let her bring a piano?

By the time he reached the Land Rover and dressed, the hour was too late to bother her, but he could watch the house while he determined his course of action. Perhaps he should call Gabriel…No, he knew what his advice would be. Walk away. Remain aloof, apart, and leave them to their own lives and their own inevitable mistakes. They were simply blips on the radar of a vampire’s existence.

Except this very petite blip was alone.

And she’d touched Michael as no human or vampire had in nearly two hundred years. His sense of honor precluded ignoring her plight. He would return because he must.

He saw a glow rising into the sky before he was even close. Fire. Michael floored the gas until he screeched to a halt far enough away he would be able to get away quickly. He raced toward the house in a blur of motion. Flames already licked at the kitchen and in the upstairs windows. In the shadows to the side, he saw two youths—humans hunkered watching as if they waited to flush out their quarry. Before they even knew what was happening, Michael grabbed their throats from behind with enough force to let them know one squeeze was enough to kill.

Little boys shouldn’t play with matches, he hissed in their ears. They