Sacred Bloodlines: The Sacred Guardians

By Wendy Owens

A troubled past. A mysterious prophecy. All of hell after him. 16-year-old orphan, Gabe, is about to discover getting everything he's ever hoped for could end up being his worst nightmare.

Plagued by haunting images and tragic events, everyone Gabe has ever cared for has been taken from him. He was starting to come to the same conclusion everyone else had--he must be cursed.

Gabe was thrust into an exciting new world filled with angels, demons, and magic, after a disaster in a subway tunnel led him to Uri and the Guardians. The only problem was his new friends weren't the only ones who found him. Hell has sent some of it's most powerful demons to make sure Gabe never fulfills a destiny he never knew he had.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Orangewillow Publishing
• Release date: Jul 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533783196

Wendy Owens

Wendy Owens was born in the small college town, Oxford Ohio. After attending Miami University, Wendy went onto a career in the visual arts. After several years of creating and selling her own artwork she gave her first love, writing, a try. She has released the YA fantasy series, The Sacred Guardians. She also has a NA Romance series, The Stubborn Love Series. When she's not writing, this dog lover can be found spending time with her tech geek husband, their three amazing kids, and two pups. She loves to cook and is a film fanatic. For more info on Wendy's young adult fiction and NA Romance visit http://wendy-owens.com/ If you want to follow her on social media you can visit: Twitter: https://twitter.com/WendyLOwens Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Wendy-L-Owens/191731754221996?fref=ts Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5038955.Wendy_Owens

Book preview

1

Gabe closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool subway tiles. The pungent smell of urine and burnt electrical wires filled his nostrils as the loud roar of a passing train erupted in his ears. His social worker’s words replayed again and again in his head, difficulties with home placement, a past filled with tragic incidents, more time needed to find the right parental candidates. Gabe knew what those words meant, and unfortunately, after years of being shipped from one foster family to the next, it was clear what people thought of him. He was cursed. And why would they not think that? he thought. It was obvious even to himself.

The bustle of the station increased as the train squealed to a halt. Gabe grabbed his trusted and ragged black backpack and headed to the nearest set of open doors. He twisted and turned, trying to make his way through the thick crowd. A chill came over him, one that was all too familiar and Gabe found himself filled with dread. Coming to a sudden stop, he looked around at the sea of people. Just steps from the train doors, he found himself unable to move. He was staring and searching, his breath now shallow. The voices around him were instantly silenced as a pulsing white noise consumed his mind.

Gabe’s hands were clammy, and he felt his legs weaken. Are you getting on or what? the man behind him shouted. The man was wearing a plain, tan trench coat and had a briefcase weighing down his left hand. Gabe looked back at him, not able to hear what he was saying for a moment, still distracted by the deafening white noise consuming every thought in his head.

Come on, some of us have places to be, the man grumbled as he rudely pushed past Gabe and boarded the subway car. Stumbling to a nearby column by the train platform, Gabe steadied himself, attempting to regain his composure and balance.

As sounds came flooding back, he heard the buzzer warning that the doors of the subway car would soon be closing. Gabe looked up and prepared to make a dash for the opening. Before he could make his move, he caught sight of a young woman standing in front of the subway doors. She was wearing a long, black leather coat cinched at the waist. There was an odd gray color that surrounded her, creating a halo effect around her entire body. He had seen this before, actually more times than he cared to recall. He even saw the same gray aura the night his parents died.

Gabe stared intensely at her back as she stepped into the subway car. She slowly turned around, her black hair was short, cut just above the chin, which she wore slicked back, tucked behind her petite ears. Gabe thought she looked as though she were trying to remove the femininity from her small frame in any way she could. Her skin was pale, the color reminding him of milk.

He watched, frozen, as the girl lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes. She flashed him a small, wicked smile as the doors closed. He saw her eyes flicker a hint of red. A moment later, the train pulled away. Gabe slid to the cold floor as the crushing weight of impending doom filled him. He was no stranger to seeing that red flicker. He’d seen a lot of death in his life and often the ones with the red eyes weren’t far away when tragedy would strike.

Gabe had been plagued by these feelings and visions his entire life. He could remember being sent to at least a dozen different therapists all over the city. Their diagnoses were all the same; however, ‘hallucinations brought on by depression caused by the tragic loss of his parents’ seemed to be the main theme. Some had him writing his feelings in journals, but most of them found it easier to load him up on medication and send him on his way. He’d learned a long time ago that the easiest thing to do was to lie about the odd things he saw.

Gabe wondered if the therapists were all right. Perhaps he was just crazy with grief. His parents had died when he was only five years old. He found it hard to believe such grief could plague a person for eleven years, but what did he know, he was no —

A loud explosion suddenly interrupted Gabe’s thoughts. He reached out his hands to try and steady himself as the ground under him shook violently. He threw up his arms to protect his head from the plaster crumbling and falling like rain from the high ceilings.

He looked in the direction of the explosion. The tunnel, where just moments before the train he was supposed to be on had been, had now become a huge cloud of flying debris. Gabe’s pale brown hair blew back from the rush of air. He had to squint his eyes as the ash clouded his vision and larger pieces of plaster and tile began to fall all around him. He rushed to the bench he had been sitting on earlier and slid under it, taking refuge from the dangerous rubble crashing all around.

The one question all of those therapists could never answer for him was if the things he kept seeing, these visions of the ones with the red eyes, were simply a result of grief, then why did a disaster follow each one? Gabe laid under that bench, listening to the overwhelming screams of panic swirl around him. He clenched his eyes tight, trying to make it all disappear, but it wasn’t working. It never did.

Gabe had a trick he had learned long ago from his mother. She told him when he was little that if he was ever scared of something, to count to one hundred and somewhere along the way the object of his fear would disappear. As a child, the fear would usually subside around fifty. After his parent’s death, though, he would often exceed a thousand before he could find his calm. Gabe stayed hidden, counting, completely losing track of time. Under that bench, counting his safe numbers, Gabe was leaving the world behind—a world that was filled with a wicked darkness.

As Gabe lay there, hoping to go unnoticed, he felt the bench rock. Glancing to his left he saw a pair of combat boots planted firmly on the ground. He wondered with all the screaming and running around, what kind of person would have a seat to watch the havoc unfold?

Are you going to hide under there all day? asked the cool, calm voice from above. Gabe decided staying quiet and playing possum was the best solution. He continued his counting.

A few moments passed, and the voice asked again, Well? An open hand reached down offering assistance to Gabe.

The black mesh, fingerless glove on the hand was unique, but what caught Gabe’s eye was the silver ring perched proudly on the ring finger, over the glove. On it was a serpent with a dagger piercing through it, coiled around a tree. It looked old and worn, hundreds of years old if Gabe had to guess.

Realizing this person was not going away, Gabe apprehensively took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled from his secure hiding spot out into the open chaos of the subway tunnel.

Gabe pushed himself up from his knees to a standing position while studying the stranger in front of him. He wore faded and distressed jeans - they were a straight leg cut that had been gathered and tucked into his boots. He had a black v-neck shirt, the type that looked old even when they were new. Over his t-shirt was a heavy green military jacket, but the name badge had been ripped off.

Looking at the boy’s face, Gabe realized that this kid couldn’t be much older than himself. He had thick, sandy-blonde hair that twisted and fell in large chunks all around his face. There was slight stubble on his cheeks and chin.

The boy smiled up at him from the bench. Gabe noticed his almost glowing blue eyes. Gabe’s eyes were eerily similar in color. He found this unsettling since he had always been told how unique they were. Gabe was suddenly overcome with a feeling of peace and serenity, not something he was used to feeling at all.

The boy motioned for Gabe to sit down next to him on the bench. It was like he didn’t notice all the people around them screaming and crying for help. He hesitated.

Look, it’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon, the boy said, pointing to the cluster of cops streaming down the stairs. You might as well have a seat. We have a lot to talk about. The boy’s voice was calm as he stared directly ahead at the perfume ad on the back wall across the subway tracks.

Do I know you? Gabe asked anxiously.

No, but we know you, Gabe Harwood, the boy replied, a mischievous smile flashing across his lips for only a moment. Glancing all around him nervously, Gabe wondered if he should make a mad dash for the nearest police officer. He was prone to being present at disasters, an unfortunate curse he supposed, and as a result had given plenty of witness statements in the past. The thought of spending the evening at a police precinct, explaining why he was once again witness to such events, did not sound like anything he particularly wanted any part of. Rethinking his strategy, Gabe turned and sat next to the boy. He stared at the floor in front of him as if he were studying the detail in the dirt stained tiling. He focused all his energy on resisting the urge to climb back to his hiding place under the bench.

I know this is hard, and it doesn’t make sense, but all I ask is that you listen to everything I have to say. Then you can make your decision.

The boy’s voice cut through all the chaos around Gabe; it was as if a volume knob in his head had turned down all the background noise. The chaos had become muffled and distant. Gabe stared at the boy with a look of disbelief, not knowing if he were even real or just another figment of his imagination like the girl on the train.

My name is Uri, and I’m like you. Gabe looked up at Uri’s face.

What do you mean, you’re like me? Gabe asked, then forced and awkward laugh.

I understand you, because years ago, I was in the same place, Uri answered.

Gabe pressed his lips together, annoyed the stranger would even insinuate he could understand where he was coming from. Oh, yeah? You were in a subway tunnel where a bunch of people had just been killed, and all hell was breaking loose?

Uri glanced over at Gabe and grinned; he obviously liked Gabe’s hardened and sarcastic attitude. No, but I’ve seen some dark things in my life.

Gabe wanted to ask him what he was talking about. He wanted to know if perhaps he had seen similar things, but he refused to give in to his curiosity. No offense, but I doubt you could understand anything about my life or what I’m thinking.

Oh really? Uri replied. Let me take a wild guess. You feel like you’re cursed. Death follows you wherever you go, and you feel completely abandoned. You wish it would all end for you. You think that death would be a release, but something keeps compelling you forward. Gabe’s face paled, and he got an eerie feeling as he listened to Uri speak. You’re not alone, Gabe, there are many more like you, and we want to help.

There was silence for a moment as Gabe processed what he had just heard. He tried to convince himself there had to be a simple explanation.

So, what, my social worker sent you? She was worried that not being able to place me in a home would send me into a suicidal downward spiral? Gabe scoffed as if the suggestion were ludicrous rather than the truth. Well, tell her not to worry, I’m fine. I don’t need anyone’s help. Gabe started to get up from the bench, but before he could, Uri reached out and grabbed his wrist. Gabe immediately felt an ache in his chest followed by shortness of breath. He looked back at Uri, who was no longer smiling, but staring intensely at him.

Gabe, I was not sent here by your social worker. I was sent here by someone more powerful than you can ever imagine. There are so many things we need to show you to make you understand. If you only believe one thing I say, let it be that we’re here to help.

Yeah, well you know what they say about things that seem too good to be true, Gabe grumbled.

Uri shifted in his seat before continuing, Look, if you want to make it through the night, I suggest you come with me.

Gabe felt caught in Uri’s stare and seemed unable to move. As he tried to make sense of the conversation, Gabe caught the shimmer of a white glowing light flash in Uri’s eyes. Startled, he jumped back in his seat, and Uri’s hand fell from him. Gabe had seen the red glimmer before, but this was new. Who or what is this guy? he wondered to himself.

I don’t know who you are; you could be an ax murderer for all I know. How am I supposed to trust you and follow you? For that matter, follow you where? Gabe inquired.

Search yourself, what do your instincts tell you? Uri asked.

That you’re a crazy nut-job, and you’re freaking me out! Gabe snapped back.

Uri didn’t laugh at Gabe’s reaction this time. Instead, he stiffened, clearly alert to his surroundings. We gotta go, Uri instructed as he stood and looked toward the exit. Gabe noticed how the boy suddenly seemed mechanical in his movements. He had gained a sense of urgency about him. Uri stood and turned, reaching his hand out to Gabe. Gabe stared at his outstretched hand, still unsure of what to do.

Seriously? I’m not going anywhere with you. Besides the fact I have no idea who you are, even if I did agree to go, how are we supposed to leave? There is no way the cops are letting anyone out of here until they have been questioned, Gabe pointed out.

Uri quickly dropped to one knee to look Gabe in the eye. He leaned in close and lowered his voice almost to a whisper; Gabe had to strain to listen.

I know you—I know who and what you are. I can show you amazing things that will change your life forever. At the place I want to take you, there are people just like you and me. They all want to meet you, but it’s your choice, Gabe. Uri jumped to his feet again and extended his open hand once more.

Even though Gabe’s thoughts kept telling him to stay planted where he was, there was something deep inside that yearned to follow Uri. He wanted to believe there was something else out there, a different life he could eventually hold on to. Taking a deep breath, Gabe closed his eyes and took hold of Uri’s hand, making the decision that Uri couldn’t bring any worse horror into his life than what he had already seen.

Uri pulled Gabe to his feet, whispering something under his breath. Gabe asked him to repeat himself, but Uri didn’t reply and continued to drag him toward the nearest exit tunnel.

Gabe stumbled behind Uri and realized they were headed directly for a cluster of officers. Uri, they’re never going to let us through. Wrong place at the wrong time only seems to go so far with them. Uri didn’t respond and just continued to walk toward the tunnel.

Five to six feet away from the officers, Uri stopped, never letting go of Gabe’s hand. Gabe watched and waited for one of the officers to say something, but realized they were not even looking at them. Uri studied the men as if he were looking for a weak point. Gabe worried what the boy might be thinking.

A moment later, Uri raised his free hand to his left and with fingers spread, he tilted his head back and mumbled a word Gabe could not understand. Gabe watched and wondered what type of insane character he was mixed up with. He jokingly thought that this guy fancied himself some kind of Jedi knight, waiting for him to say, ‘these are not the droids you’re looking for.’

Just then, a woman’s shriek came from the direction where Uri had been lifting his hand. All the officers rushed toward the source, leaving the exit wide open. Uri took a tighter hold of Gabe’s hand and led him up the stairs, out of the tunnel to freedom. It was as if the officers had not seen them, even though they only stood a few feet away.

What was that? Gabe asked, not realizing his mouth was still hanging open in shock.

Uri shrugged, continuing up the stairs to the street, Let’s get to the manor and I’ll explain everything, I promise.

Manor? Gabe asked, clearly concerned, but at this point, he was in such disbelief over what he had just seen, that he continued to follow Uri while replaying the last five minutes of their exit over and over again in his head.

Uri didn’t answer the question. By the way, happy birthday, he said as he flashed Gabe a brief smile.

What? Gabe started. How—

How do you think I found you so easily tonight? Sixteen is the age of the Guardian Rite of Passage. It’s when your powers start to manifest, and it practically turns you into a freaking homing beacon. Uri explained as he looked around, growing increasingly anxious. We better go.

Where exactly are you taking me? Gabe demanded.

But again Uri didn’t answer him. He led Gabe to a side street where he had an older dirt bike parked, waiting for them. Uri finally released Gabe’s hand and passed him a helmet. Put it on, Uri commanded while starting the bike’s engine with a couple of stomps on the kick-start. Gabe slipped the helmet on then stiffened, staring at Uri.

I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers, Gabe protested.

Uri shrugged. Suit yourself, but if I found you so easily, so will the red eyes.

Red eyes?

You know who I’m talking about, Uri replied firmly.

He was right. Gabe didn’t need to ask who the red eyes were. He’d known about the evil ones in the world since his parents’ murder. He swallowed hard and climbed on behind Uri. Within moments, they were on their way.

Gabe wondered where this manor was exactly and if he had just made a huge mistake.

2

Gabe nervously watched as they passed exit sign after exit sign. Having left the city behind miles ago, Gabe became increasingly worried about getting back to the group home before curfew. He tapped Uri on the shoulder and motioned for him to get off the highway.

Uri took the next exit, pulling into a dimly lit, dingy gas station. The lights buzzed and flickered overhead as the gnats and mosquitoes swarmed in the humid summer night air.

Gabe wasn’t used to seeing so much undeveloped land around him. He squinted, searching to see if there was more civilization near this lone gas station. Much to his disappointment, he couldn’t see lights in any direction. Uri stepped off from his bike and walked around to the pump.

Gabe slid the helmet from his head, and took another quick glance around, then looked hard at Uri. Are we almost there? he asked.

Uri simply chuckled to himself.

Frustrated by Uri’s dismissive attitude, Gabe pushed for more information. Hey, can you answer me? I live in a group home, I have a curfew.

I know where you live, Uri replied, staring off into the distance while he continued fueling his bike.

Creepy much? Gabe said. Look, what’s going on here? You say you know me and where I live. I have never met you. Can you understand why this would be making me a little uneasy?

Uri looked at Gabe with a pleased grin and didn’t say anything.

Gee, I’m glad you see the humor in all this, Gabe added, becoming more infuriated with each passing moment.

Uri’s smile dropped as he watched Gabe punch the bike seat, hard. To comfort Gabe, Uri tried reassuring him. Seriously, Gabe, there is no reason to worry. Michael will explain everything when we get home.

The word 'home' was a foreign concept to Gabe. He had been handed over to countless foster homes throughout the years. He only had a handful of memories of his parents, but most of them had been forgotten long ago.

He remembered when he went to the group home, he was told it would just be a few days. Now here he was, six months later, stuck in the same lonely place. He had recently accepted St. John’s Home for Wayward Boys would be the only home he would know for the next two years. The way Uri said home felt so unfamiliar. He envied him.

Who’s this Michael? Gabe asked.

Uri stood there for a moment in silence. The pump clicked to a stop indicating the tank was full, and he pulled the handle. Gabe watched as he replaced the dripping nozzle into the gas pump cradle. Uri looked around nervously for a moment, setting Gabe on edge.

You’ll see soon enough, Uri answered, finally.

I hope he has more answers than you, Gabe huffed. He watched Uri as he moved. Did this guy actually get Gabe? Could he possibly understand what Gabe had been through up until this point in his life? How could he? Nobody could. Could they? The thoughts raced through Gabe’s mind. All these things I’ve seen my entire life... Gabe paused, not wanting to sound insane.

You’re not crazy, Uri interjected, causing Gabe to wonder if he could also read his mind. Just because humans can’t explain something they automatically assume that means we’re nutso. Doesn’t matter how many times you save their hides either, so don’t ever expect a thank you.

Save them?

Uri looked around again. Look, kid, Gabe wished he would stop referring to him as a kid considering they were obviously not that far apart in age. This isn’t the best place to be having this conversation.

Okay, seriously? Gabe growled. A mixture of panic and anger burned inside him. I have no idea what you did back there at the subway to get us past those cops, but I know something wasn’t right about it. Now you’re taking me out to the middle of nowhere, and I’m going to miss my curfew. I need some answers now, I mean it!

Later Gabe... Uri sounded annoyed as he replied. And you won’t miss curfew because you don’t have one tonight.

What? Gabe questioned, consumed by confusion. What do you mean I don’t have one? The curfew is not negotiable. No exceptions. If I’m late, I lose privileges. You have no idea what it’s like when you don’t have the right to come and go. It’s like a prison! Gabe became more excited as he talked about the consequences he faced.

Please, calm down, Uri said while climbing onto the bike. He looked over his shoulder at Gabe. As soon as we knew of your location, Michael made some phone calls. The home where you live has marked you on leave for the next week.

What? Gabe shouted. How the heck did...what do you mean a week? They don’t ever allow that. Gabe could feel his head begin to swim and thought he might vomit.

I’m not trying to hide anything from you, but there’s too much to explain. And we don’t have time. At least, not while we’re exposed like this. Besides, trust me; it’s simply easier to show you. Gabe listened to Uri, struggling to make sense of everything. Michael’s a very important and powerful man. He has helped a lot of people in his life, and from that, gained a lot of friends. In return, those people help him when needed.

The home wouldn’t just let you sign me out for a week.

They would if you were visiting a prospective adoptive home.

What? Gabe’s voice cracked.

Uri glanced around at the darkness; Gabe thought he almost seemed nervous. "The manor is along a coastline, just off a peninsula that is just over eight hours