Juliette

By Daisy Jane Maxwell

Juliette is the fifth book in the series Blood-Rose Guardians. It follows the experiences and self-exploration of Juliette through the course of one year as she engages with the responsibilities of both her human life and in her role as a Guardian. Juliette lives with her identical twin sister, Charlotte, in Australia's beautiful Queensland. She is an avid horse-rider and newly employed nurse at the local hospital. During the course of her year, she will face demons both physical and psychological and embark on a journey that pushes her beyond her greatest expectations. As a Guardian, she will acquire new skills and strengths as she faces her weaknesses and the challenges that rise with the encroaching Darkness. Juliette is a story about the importance of faith in one's self and about humbly accepting help, even from strangers, when it is needed. It is a tale, as are all the Blood-Rose Guardian books, about good versus evil and the challenges faced by the Guardians as the Darkness continues to gain momentum in its pursuit of world domination.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadOnTime BV
• Release date: Jun 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781742844367

Daisy Jane Maxwell

Daisy-Jane Maxwell began writing fiction after completing several university degrees and finding that she had much knowledge to share. She draws on information from both her science and arts degrees to incorporate details that explain and explore many of the curiosities the Guardians face in their lives as they journey ever forward through time. Daisy-Jane lives in stunning Tasmania, a most beautiful place to escape into the world of the Guardians whenever she can. As with most women this century, she finds herself with more duties than time to complete them, and relishes the time spent, however fleeting, absorbed in writing. She hopes that her readers find something inspirational, something instructional and something worth contemplating further in each and every book.

Book preview

Prologue

I believe in destiny. I believe in fate. I believe in friendship and I believe in love, but sometimes it matters not what we believe, but what actions we take. It matters more that we make the right decisions for the greater good than follow our beliefs blindly down a path that is fraught with danger for everyone but ourselves. My name is Juliette Smith and this path of righteous choice and the rejection of blind faith is about to be mine; it is my time. I am one of five daughters of Elizabeth-Rose Smith, the Guardian of the Blood-Rose, and I, like her, am a Guardian, though I am yet to prove it to the world…I am yet to prove it to myself for that matter.

I spend my days waiting. I am waiting for things to happen in my life: waiting to be shown the path of Guardianship, waiting for the world to change and most importantly, I am waiting for my ally to find me. I know he is coming, he must be…for that is part of my fate; my destiny. I am destined to find the one who, by all accounts, will complete me. He will fill me with such joy and passion, that my life before him will seem decidedly inferior to a future by his side. It is a lot for someone to live up to but I know he is a creature of magic and mystery. I know he is filled with magic from Ambrosia; he will have a direct connection to the forces that bind us with all of nature and beyond. He will stand by me. He will love me with his whole heart and soul. He will colour my world and understand me like no other – not even my twin sister, Charlotte, will be able to compete with the intimate connection we will share. I will protect him with every fibre of my being and he will do the same for me; because that is what an ally does. He will be not only my ally in the fight against the rising Darkness…but also my ally in life!

I could, if I was brave, take a deep breath and step into the world and search for my ally myself, but I believe that in good time he will find me. The universe is pulling us together; it is inevitable that at some point in the near future we will collide and for a moment in time, nothing will matter but each other. In the mean time, I will exist as I have been for the past few years. I will carry out my daily responsibilities as a nurse and I will attend to my dogs and my horse. I will complicate my world as little as possible in preparation for his arrival – whoever he might be. I will bring joy and serenity to those I care for and make their days a little brighter, for I am a pillar in the Temple of Light and it good and right for me to do so. When the shadows creep in from the night, I will find the light and send them lurking back into the depths of darkness. When the innocent need a protector to stand between themselves and the threats of evil, I will be there, metaphorical sword in hand, to fight off the demons and devils and exile them beyond the borders of this realm. When a child calls out in the darkness for fear of things that go bump in the night, I will be there to bump back. Every cell in my body vibrates with the need to love, care and protect. Every molecule of my being quivers with the anticipation of rising to the Guardian challenge; every ounce of magic I possess pulsates with the possibility and promise of assimilation with the one whom I was born to love…I hope I am not a disappointment to him or my family. I have set some lofty goals for my future lover and myself, but I expect to meet these challenges with energy to spare…well, at least that is the plan, if only I could open the door and be brave enough to take the first step on that journey!

Chapter 1

Romeo

Romeo is my horse. He is a magnificent dapple grey stallion, sixteen hands high with a sense of pride reserved for those who have lived a life in the public view. He is accustomed to a certain kind of life, and though I do my best to accommodate his needs, I am realistic in my pursuit: I will never show him and I will never float him from one competition to the next. What I can offer him is a life of freedom and kindness; a retirement of sorts. I am not sure how old he is nor how long I should expect him to live, but I do know that before I acquired him, he had lived a vigorous and somewhat glamorous life.

I believe that the smell of a warm horse in the morning is special only to those who ride horses. It is a little bit musky, a bit earthy, there is the hint of sweat and hay and something that is purely animal. Whether it be a pure blood thoroughbred or a hybrid hackney, the smell of a horse against the clear freshness of dawn feels like home to me. The rich scent of leather rises from the tack that squeaks a little with my rise and fall in the saddle as Romeo trots beneath me. His hooves clip and clop on the bituminous road. In the morning it is just Romeo and I; the two of us alone in the peace and solitude of dawn. I am never really alone though, my sister is always with me. Somehow through the magic of twin bonds or the magic of creation itself we are always together inside our minds. She knows the joy I get from riding; I appreciate the sense of relaxation she feels from having the opportunity to sleep in. She is no more lazy than I, both of us having busy lives with busy jobs in a busy world, I just find my relaxation out in the fresh air with my horse.

On Sundays we ride along the beach bareback splashing in the surf. He paws at the froth, forcing it up against his underbelly. He snorts at the freedom to frolic on the beach; to canter in the sand, his mane flicking backwards in the breeze. Romeo truly lets his spirit free on Sundays, but today is not Sunday and we are not on the beach, today we are taking a journey through the woods that extend from the back of our property northwards in a long corridor of vegetation that separates the coastal environs from the inland woods. The bitumen road tapers into a gravel track before disappearing entirely and giving way in full to the grass and trees of a little travelled stock-route.

I smell damp grass and eucalyptus oil heavy in the mist. Romeo’s footfalls are almost silent now; we trot through the forest that is mostly comprised of gumtrees and the local pine. His breath comes out of his nostrils like vents of steam rising from a volcanic fissure; in the distance, I hear the ocean crashing against the rocks. I cannot smell the salt in the air here, only the scents of damp grass and heady eucalyptus oil. There are rustling noises beneath the grounded debris of the recent storms as small mammals and birds flit about amongst the dying leaves and drying twigs. Apart from the few creatures scurrying away from us as we make our way up the hill, we are alone. It is just the two of us against the whole world. A Guardian and her mighty steed; Romeo and Juliette! He snorts as if he can read my mind, which he can’t because he is a horse not a vampire! At sixteen hands, he is a tall horse, not quite the size of a racehorse but certainly no pony. He is lean and lovely; a perfect show horse. I don’t show him though. We just ride. Sometimes we jump old logs and wooden fences if they block our path, but he is retired from that life now, and I daren’t risk enflaming his old injury.

I bought Romeo from his previous owner after the local show last year. At that point, he had damaged the tendons in his left foreleg and rapidly lost value as a competitor. His previous owner, Pam, had given me a great deal on his purchase price. She could see that I would love and care for him and not destroy the will of such a magnificent beast…at least that is the reason she gave. It was an odd coincidence that I was at the show at all. I don’t usually enjoy such things. I don’t see the value in side-show alley nor enjoy any of the rides on offer, but this day, I found myself sitting by the fence watching the show jumping. The horses were majestic. Their riders, well-groomed and so formal in their presentation, that I felt compelled to just sit and watch as they directed their mounts to leap over one jump and fly over the next. Each competitor sat straight-backed as he, or she, traversed the route, then as his or her horse faced the next challenge, each rider leant forward, and only once the horse had cleared the jump, did the rider lean, ever so slightly, towards the next jump. This subtle communication with their steed, a shift in body weight alone, was enough to signal to the experienced horse the best footing on which to land to make the turn toward the next jump. It was over so quickly as both horse and rider raced against the clock, but in that time, each and every horse, was a star in their own right.

Following the show jumping, the arena was changed and readied for dressage and that’s when I first saw Romeo. He walked proudly into the arena. His rider in a navy blue jacket and matching helmet sat rigidly upon his back. Romeo’s coat was smooth and shone in the sunlight. His tail had been braided and his mane was fixed in a neat row of little baubles down the back of his neck. They bowed at the judges and then began their routine. Romeo pranced and side-stepped with grace and precision; he cantered a figure-eight with a perfect flying change in the centre. From that moment, I was hooked. I sat on the edge of my seat watching his every move and although I didn’t see the fault, there was one and his rider knew it. She patted him kindly on the neck, but his show days were over, at least the high level of competition for which she was renown with him as her steed were done.

It was a small but profound moment in time that changed everything. One second Romeo was a champion: he had won ribbon upon ribbon, silver cups and prize money enough to support his specialist existence, and a second later, he was retired. Just like that! In one second, his world changed…and so did mine!

I felt compelled to get a closer look at this most magnificent beast and wandered toward the stables. I walked slowly along the long line of corrugated iron sheds peeking in at their inhabitants: a row of spectacularly presented horses. Their stalls were lined with hay and a bucket containing water sat outside each one. Various helpers rushed in and out of the stalls preparing their charges for upcoming events, or else wiping them down after competing. The scent of hairspray wafted out of several stalls as though it was a girl’s bathroom. Several horses had newly painted hooves, black and shiny. These mighty steeds, regardless of sex, were being primped and preened into the best version of themselves for the benefit of onlookers and other competitors; for presentation was half the battle for ultimate success! As I walked along the row, I overheard Pam whispering to Romeo. Two stalls down, I saw her apologising to her horse, tears running down her cheeks leaving trails of mascara. I didn’t mean to intrude on her thoughts, but I did kind of wander into them. She was saddened by the reality of the situation with which she now faced. Romeo, though most beloved, was useless now. Pam was a competition success story; she could not maintain that success with a potentially lame horse. Romeo would be replaced as her competition mount.

Since that time, I had learned to ride. At first, Romeo and I would just walk together while his leg healed. Eventually, I braved climbing on to his bare back and taking a walk on the beach where the soft sand would break my fall should I lose my balance. Finally, after several months, I bought a saddle and we started our real adventures. It is obvious that I am not an accomplished rider, but perched upon his back, I feel as though I am free to take risks and experience the world without fear.

Romeo is my best friend. I tell him everything on our rides and I know he listens without judgment or contempt. As a nurse, I see so much that is difficult to deal with, but Romeo just listens when I tell him about my day and nuzzles me with his soft muzzle exactly when I need a comforting touch. Charlotte doesn’t truly understand my relationship with Romeo; I don’t think anyone who has never had a horse could. A horse is not a pet like a dog, he’s bigger and more powerful and because you perch precariously on his back, you must put your absolute faith in him. He looks on me with his soft brown eyes, and I see into his soul. He is pure and free and all that is good. I love him and I am sure that he loves me. He is my perfect complement: strong when I am weak; brave when I am scared; gentle, kind and honest. A horse is everything a human should be but so often is not.

Charlotte thinks I should be out searching for my ally. I think my ally will find me whether I search for him or not, and until that time, I would rather not have a string of broken hearts, so I will dedicate myself to Romeo in the interim. My sexual experience may be harshly limited by my avoidance of social scenes, but in the end, I am destined to love only one man with my whole heart, and I would like to give him all of me when he finally arrives on the scene.

Romeo’s ears flick backward and then forward: a sure sign that he has sensed something I haven’t. I scan the way ahead. A small fox darts after a rabbit. They come and go so quickly that they barely have time to form a memory in my mind. He prances on the spot, indicating that the rabbit and fox were not the cause for his concern; there is something else more worrisome. My ears are keen for some information. What has he heard? I lean forward in the saddle, listening, but I smell the trouble before I hear it. It is a man, putrid with the need to shower. A loud crack breaks the silence; it echoes through the woods, sound bouncing of the trees. Romeo’s ears flatten backwards and he rears onto his hind legs; letting out a whinny of pain. I am taken by surprise at his sudden rearing and barely manage to stay mounted: it is only my vampire reflexes that keep me seated in the precariously angled saddle.

The smelly man comes rushing from the forest, his shotgun pointing back over his shoulder.

Sorry, Love…didn’t realise you were here. I was aiming at the rabbit!

You missed, I say inspecting the man, and then venomously spitting, you’re not meant to be shooting in here!

Romeo plants his hooves; I slide down from the saddle.

I wasn’t, but then the rabbit ran through the fence and I kind of followed it, he explained.

I pulled the reigns beneath Romeo’s chin and talked soothingly to him, it was then that I noticed the blotches of red developing across his chest.

I turned on the man.

You shot my horse!

Sorry, Love, it was an accident…t’is just shot, you’ll be able to dig it out of him with not too much effort.

Dig it out! I reached for his gun telepathically and dragged it from his shoulder. It tumbled across the ground to land at my feet. I picked it up and aimed it at him. Let’s see how you like digging it out!

Wait… he raised his hands, defensive against the shot gun now pointed at his crotch.

I suggest you run…like a rabbit!

What? You crazy bitch! He exclaimed, his voice cracking under the stress and surprise of my threat.

I cocked the rifle and took aim. He turned to run, he wasn’t sure whether or not I was serious, but he wasn’t going to take a chance in case I was; seconds later I was behind him sinking my fangs into his neck. At first I gagged at the filth on his neck, but as the blood began to flow, I relaxed into this unexpected feeding.

Blood is rarely so offensive that a vampire will resist it once it begins to flow. It is true that it gets tainted with flavours from the victim’s diet and most intoxicants will linger in the blood long enough to affect a vampire, but there is a motivation that drives us from somewhere deeper than our subconscious mind and once ‘offered’, blood is almost never refused. When I had had my fill, I turned him to face me and planted a suggestion in his mind: he was to run to the ocean and wash himself clean before going home and cleaning his house. He was to never come back into these woods again. I didn’t like changing people’s thoughts for them; I find it intrusive, but there were times when I crossed the line; times when I believed the greater good required me to do so. I pushed him away from me with disgust and then I turned back to examine my injured horse.

Romeo stood there calmly watching my encounter with his assailant. If he had thoughts on the matter, I am unaware of them. He nodded his head in a quick upward flick as I stepped back towards him. The bloodied wounds on his chest had almost joined now, making one big triangular patch of red across his breast.

I’ll fix it my sweet, I whispered to him as I gently rubbed his neck and inspected the damage, hold still, now.

I hoped that the pieces of metal had not travelled too deeply into his flesh. I held my hand over the first wound and drew out the piece of shot that was embedded in his chest using telekinesis. Romeo snorted and flicked his head back again, but otherwise stood surprisingly still. I did the same for each of the wounds until all eight of them were free of the shrapnel. The flow of blood increased from each wound, now that the pressure of the metal fragments in the holes had been removed.

His blood smelled sweet…not at all what I expected. I looked down at my blood-covered palm and there was a moment where I considered tasting it. I am not one for dining on animals, no matter how noble, but in that moment, with the sweet scent of the blood rising from my hand and Romeo’s chest, I considered it. My fangs ran down and I started to salivate. Surprisingly, it took a great deal of self-control to push that desire aside and return my focus to the pressing task of healing Romeo.

I worked up more spit in my mouth and filled the palm of my hand with saliva. One at a time, I painted each wound with a fingertip covered with vampire saliva and as was expected, one after the other the bleeding stopped and the wounds healed. I really appreciated having this portable first aid kit always on hand. Vampire saliva is filled with a selection of proteins and hormones that stimulate healing, particularly in mammals, whose body structure is so like our own. I wiped the remnant fluids from my palm down my Jodhpur leg and climbed back into the saddle.

Okay boy, let’s go wash up, I said rubbing his neck.

His ears flicked forward. I emptied the chamber in the shot gun before slinging it across my shoulder. I turned Romeo toward the ocean.

Your pace boy, whatever makes you happy.

He snorted, reared a little to make sure I was holding on and then bolted at full gallop towards the beach. I drew the reigns in but let him have his head and just gripped with my thighs as we pushed across the uneven terrain toward the ocean. He jumped over anything in his path including two logs, an outcrop of granite and an old gate. As his hooves hit the sand he slowed to a leisurely canter and then to a walk. I took a deep breath of the fresh salt air and let the stresses of the morning leave in my exhaled breath. It took several breaths before I felt better.

Romeo slowed to a walk beside the water. I pulled him to a stop and jumped off. I removed his saddle and looked up and down the beach. We were alone, so I slipped his bridal off as well.

Go have a swim, I patted him on the neck, received an appreciative nuzzle and then he was off to splash in the waves.

Romeo and I have an understanding that far exceeds anything I have experienced with a human friend. It’s not like what I have with Charlotte, but there is a link between us nonetheless. I wouldn’t say we could read each other’s thoughts, but maybe we read each other’s emotions. Horses are very perceptive like that; if you climb on a horse and are scared, before long, the horse’s temperament will change and mimic your own. The secret to a calm horse is a calm rider. I learned this the hard way! I sometimes wonder whether Romeo speaks English rather than horse, intellectually, I know he is responding to learned commands and movements, but sometimes I just wonder…

I took the gun off my shoulder and examined its construction. The wooden butt was easy enough to lever off. The barrel was more problematic, but I figured if I bent it enough, nobody would be able to resurrect the weapon. I braced the centre of it against my knee and then pulled until the metal gave way to my force and folded. I then bent the end of the barrel back the other direction to make sure it wasn’t worth the effort to straighten.

Guns have never been a sensible weapon; they take the personal touch out of killing. If someone has the urge to kill, it should be a personal act; the taking of a life is not something to be considered lightly. I can understand the use of guns during war, when soldiers face an enemy without any personal ties or reason to the objective at hand, but when a life is taken in normal circumstances - even the life of a rabbit - I abhor the use of such an impersonal weapon being used when it is the ultimate in personal deeds being done. I’m not sure whether it is my position as a nurse or a Guardian; whether it is my instinct as a vampire, or my basic human essence that drives this judgemental attitude of mine…it matters not, my belief is the same regardless of its driving force.

Romeo splashed and played in the surf, and after washing my hands, I took off at a sprint to the other end of the beach. Once there, I skirted the rim of the headland and then I threw the pieces of gun with all of my might. They sailed out over the ocean and plummeted beneath the crashing waves; hopefully to sink and oxidise at the bottom of the sea. I may come back and retrieve the remnants of the weapon at some point in the future; seek it out and destroy it more completely, but for now, this watery grave would do…nobody swims off the headland, for the sea is too rough, I need not fear anyone accidently coming across the gun…unless it washes up on the beach.

Hoof beats thundering up the beach warn of Romeo’s imminent arrival behind me. I turn to find a wet, but blood-free horse approaching, sand divots flinging out from beneath his hooves. He plants his hind legs only metres from me, driving his full body weight down and comes to a sudden stop with only a small skip forward; evidence of his years of training as a show horse.

Want to have a race? I ask him.

He snorts and paws at the wet sand…an answer in the affirmative.

Ready, set…go, I say and take off down the beach.

He galloped beside me; his ears forward and tail flickering behind him. We ran from one end of the beach to the other. He kept pace with me at first, but I have my suspicion that he slowed at the end and let me win. I stopped at the end of the beach, my chest heaving for more oxygen as Romeo trotted up beside me and pushed me over with his head. Not expecting this, I fell to the ground and lay in the soft sand laughing. Romeo stood over me and snuffled his muzzle against my ear.

You let me win, you sneak!

He whinnied, spun on his haunches and galloped off down the beach in the opposite direction, ears flattened backwards against the whistling wind. I jumped up and chased him with not a chance of catching him. It was delightful, running that fast. The wind blowing my hair back like a horse’s mane and I knew for an instant what it was to be truly free. There are so few moments in my life when I get to be me…to be truly free.

Freedom is not something I am graced with in its purest unadulterated sense. It is true that I am free to make