Gabriel - The Chosen Guardian

By Renata Falcão

It’s the beginning of the summer holidays. Alice is a law student and goes to Vale das Estrelas to emotionally recover from the torment that has been her life. She needs to find herself. She needs a quiet summer. Alone. Away from everyone she knows.

But she is surprised to meet Gabriel, a charming young man with a strong presence and constantly appears beside her. Apparently very calm and discreet, he is different and since the first moment that Alice saw him, something inside her changes. Now, the real adventure begins.

Alice is curious and knows he is hiding something. He is not who he appears to be and something around him truly frightens her. Determined to understand what’s going on, she doesn’t give up but now her problems will increase. Without realising what she is getting into, Alice is immersed in a totally new and surreal world. Be careful.

Who are you, Gabriel? What do you want from me?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398453142

Renata Falcão

Renata Falcão is 32 years old, lives in Portugal and has a degree in Tourism. Since childhood arts have been a part of her life. She started by drawing and dancing but the pleasure in reading led her to want to write her own stories and it was in writing that she found herself. After years of writing for herself and her family, she realized that her stories should not be hidden.

Book preview

About the Author

Renata Falcão is 32 years old, lives in Portugal and has a degree in Tourism. Since childhood arts have been a part of her life. She started by drawing and dancing but the pleasure in reading led her to want to write her own stories and it was in writing that she found herself. After years of writing for herself and her family, she realized that her stories should not be hidden.

Dedication

This story is especially dedicated to women. The reality is not always as we expect but from dreaming, we are all free.

For each dreamer…

…there is a guardian.

Copyright Information ©

Renata Falcão 2023

The right of Renata Falcão to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398453135 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398453142 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

First of all, I want to leave here a huge thanks to my companion. He knows I need my space and time to write, knows I don´t like being interrupted and he accepts that. He listens to all my ideas and helps me develop them. In this particular work, he helped me improve some details that emphasized the story. I cannot fail to mention my two beautiful children. Even though they are still young, I know that when they grow up and are old enough to read this story, they will be able to give me all kinds of criticisms. I hope this story helps both to grow, to think and to dream.

I also want to thank to my father, my idol. He is a pragmatic and sensible person but when it comes to his daughter´s dreams, he is the first to believe. Since I started writing, he always praises my ideas and even when things don´t go so well, he doesn´t let me give up.

My mother is also very important to mention, she encourages me and believes my stories. With a more critical eye, she is able to give me her frank opinion even though she knows I might not like it. I love her sincerity and unconditional support.

My two brothers are fantastic and have supported me in many ways. Even when things are not easy, they are there to help me. I could not have better brothers. I have a beautiful photograph here because the photographer was my great friend Ana Quintas, an excellent designer. She has all the patience in the world to listen to me.

I must mention Austin Macauley Publishers for the opportunity to see my work published. I want to believe that together we are going far.

Finally, I leave only a reference to the Alan Walker´s songs. Listening to his songs helped me to create this story, especially Alice.

Introduction

She was still a child.

She didn’t like the night.

Bedtime was the most difficult time of the day.

She received her mother’s bedtime kiss.

The door let in a sliver of light.

She covered herself with the sheets…waiting.

The fright was about to arrive.

The door squeaked.

Noises and objects moved for no apparent reason.

The ground creaked.

The shadow of a non-existent person penetrated the soil.

The voice blew in her ears.

Her heart was racing…

…And soon dreams came up.

I

I’m anxious.

I feel the world has fallen at my feet. I saw no possible escape. My life is a nightmare and now I live in fear that it might happen again. Losing me is what scares me the most and I was so close to insanity that when I look in the mirror, I don’t recognise myself. I know that things have not been easy and maybe I’m weak but I can’t handle it. It’s too much for me.

My father saw this and I know he is sad, dejected and unable to help me, so he convinced me to do this. I’m leaving my city to a land I don’t know, where the summer is supposed to be spent reflecting, studying and working. I’m not really motivated – I haven’t felt this in a long time – however it’s better than staying and facing what I can’t face.

The man sitting behind the wheel looks at me, sideways.

We’re close, he says in a warm voice.

I nod my head.

It’s a middle-aged man, has black hair falling to his shoulders, a week’s beard and a shape similar to my father’s: understanding and concerned. That’s why they’ve been best friends for years. I believe that since I was a child, or before that. I don’t know. I’m trying to format the idea that I’m getting away from everyone I know.

I repeat: everyone.

Except this man. I saw him from time to time but I have no confidence in him. I know his temper and little else. I don’t know what he likes to do, the kind of life he leads, his hobbies… nothing. So, he’s like a stranger. Yes, I’m alone.

I hope you adapt, he says without looking at me.

I bite the corner of my lip. I can interpret those chosen words carefully, it’s generous of him. I stretch a smile – or something like that – and answer:

I hope so too.

We speak little since he went to get me at the train station. I appreciate that, I’m not in a mood to establish social contact with anyone. I have a black cloud over my head.

I have my head against the window glass and look outside. There are lots of rustic wooden houses with gardens around. I can see meadows, fields and orchards and the trees on the horizon, making me feel like I’m really far from home. After two tar roads, a cobbled road follows and then narrower one with trees on both sides as if they were welcoming those who pass by.

We’ve arrived. He speaks.

I frown.

My father told me that I was going to a land called Vale das Estrelas where the nearest city is more than forty miles away. However, I’m not even going to the centre of Vale das Estrelas but to the surroundings. A mansion-built centuries ago is waiting and, according to him, a great space to live. I couldn’t say otherwise since Antunes – the man beside me – in addition to working as a kind of ruler, also lives there.

I’m astonished. Stunned. If my vision doesn’t fail and my mind doesn’t play tricks on me, I am not facing a mansion. It’s a small castle. Literally. All in stone with some stained glass in the windows, arched doors and even has a tower with a pointed roof that reminds me of Rapunzel.

Is it here? I ask as I blink my eyes.

Antunes parks next to three cars. I get out of the car but I don’t let my eyes stray from the castle; it’s a real masterpiece and whoever lives there has good taste.

Come take your bags, we have to install you before dinner time, informs with a slight smile. You like this place.

I open my eyes.

It’s divine.

I follow behind him with my wheel bag and a backpack while he carries two more bags. The castle is surrounded by gardens and there are street lamps that remind me of my grandparents’ wedding photographs. They’re scattered at random and some have bird nests on top.

We enter through the main door and we’re facing an entrance worthy of a palace. The ceiling is so far away, even with two ladders I wouldn’t be able to touch it. Golden carpets cover the cold floor and the lamp hanging right in the centre is covered in brilliant projecting light to all sides.

This way. Antunes nods to me.

We go up some winding stairs and after we go down a corridor with several windows covered in bright stained glass with drawings of warriors, we go up other stairs. At the end of this corridor, where a red velvet carpet snakes, is an aged brown wooden door with a golden handle.

Antunes opens the door and signals me to enter first.

If this is going to be the room where I’m going to spend the whole summer, then I can say that I came to the ideal place. My room is half this.

Antunes puts my bags on the floor and smiles.

Teel me if you see that something is missing. In the meantime, I ask you not to be late for dinner, we have dinner first and then serve the bosses. I thought you could help serve the meals and nothing else, you’re not here to work but to keep yourself busy. He takes a break. Otherwise, you’re free to stroll, study and do your things, since…

I swallow hard at his hesitation. I know what his thinking.

I’m fine, I reassure. This is spectacular. Thanks.

The man breathes again. Calmer, sketches another smile, nods and closes the door behind him.

Alone, I look around. I’m overwhelmed. The room is spacious; it has four windows that let in the light as if I were outdoors and in addition to two huge closets and a secretary, has a canopy bed. The bed is something extraordinary. With a purple blanket, five pillows and a velvety headboard nailed to the wall, I feel like a real princess.

For brief moments I forget the torment that has been my life and unpack, glad to be away from everyone. I wish this summer to be my cure and, as I can see, it has started in the best way.

After dinner with Antunes and the cook on the kitchen island, I lift the dishes and put them on the stand. Antunes licks his fingers with Gloria’s dessert while she laughs in front of the television. Yes, this kitchen has a TV. By the way this kitchen was, until today, the best kitchen I entered. With a long marble island, matching cabinets all around, two refrigerators and two stoves, it has all the utensils a Michelin Chef could want.

Antunes licks two fingers, delighted.

God, woman, you can’t do such sweet things. I’m not going too young, if I abuse, I die earlier, he jokes.

Gloria gives him a soft stroke.

Eat, eat. She speaks.

I smile.

I like her good mood. She’s a strong and robust woman just as her heart seems to be. Welcomed me very well, treats me like I’ve been here forever and wanted to serve my plate. She wanted to make sure I ate well.

But nothing is better than your lemon pie,the best pie to date. He looks at me You will prove it, Alice. You’ll see.

Of course. I speak.

Well, let’s get up, says the lady, dropping off the bench with a laugh and adjusting the white cap on his head that hides all the hair strands. Hands to work, I want to leave early.

I nod and help her to lift our dishes while Antunes wears the black suit blazer. It looks elegant. He hands me an aluminium cart.

Every day is like this, Antunes explains with patience. At the end of our meal, Gloria does the plating and I put the platters here. He points to the cart.

You can start doing this yourself and then you take the cart to the dining room, ask what they want to serve on the plates and I’ll pour the wine. Sounds good?

Yes.

I help Antunes put all the trays in the cart and push it down the hall. It’s a wider corridor, has several stained-glass windows of many colours and red curtains over each one. There’s a brown carpet running through the corridor and many pictures of abstract paintings colouring the space.

I see the dining room when two fully open doors allow me to enter and I’m faced with a majestic space. There are slender windows, velvety lamps on the wall illuminating each corner and a square and wide table, right in the centre. Above the table, a huge chandelier with crystals. I keep pushing the cart with my eyes examining each edge, each object. The dining room has glass furniture that refers back to the past obviously.

I’m so abstracted that I don’t find myself approaching the table.

I immobilise.

There are three men sitting, staring at me. I stare at them, clumsy… They’re young, attractive; and one of them captures my attention.

Wow!

He’s extremely intense, has a look so strong, it makes me feel naked. He has his eyes on me and gives me a slight and subtle smile. Light-skinned but dark-haired, his eyes are blue and emit a glow that shivers me up to the nape, wears a navy-blue sweater and a white shirt underneath.

I open my mouth but I can’t utter a sound.

What the hell happened to me?

Good evening! greets the man at my right side. Alice, right?

I blink my eyes.

Hmm. Yes, I answer. Good evening.

He is auburn, has a square face and a fifteen-day beard. With an unbuttoned shirt on the first two buttons, he drops his arms and nods his head for me to get closer. I move the cart to him but I hesitate; I do not know whether to take his plate or take the dish to him. Antunes enters and smiles at the three men who greet him in unison. More relaxed, Antunes looks at me and signals me to pick up the dish.

So, I do.

I serve the man and then the next one who smiles warmly at me. He’s thinner and browner, has an angular face and the brown hair fall back, exhibiting a small tail.

I will not want the salad, warns me when I start to serve him with the utmost care.

I nod.

Finally, I approach the man in the navy-blue sweater. I can swear he hasn’t looked away from me yet and that makes me unsure. As if he were evaluating me. I breathe in. He lowers his arms giving me an opening to serve him and place the cloth napkin on the legs. I get on the first platter and it’s like my hands want to report me, I see the trembling and I blush. I sneak a look at him but he doesn’t stare at me, keeps the same expression, now for the dish.

I don’t know if it makes me feel better. Maybe he’s trying to show that he isn’t seeing how nervous I am.

Damn it!

I continue to do my best and when I land the last platter on the cart again, I hear him say:

Thanks, Alice.

I freeze.

His voice…

Where have I heard it? I know this voice. This deep and sweet voice.

There he is, looking at me. That look. That half smile. I’m not able to say anything, I don’t react, simply nod. He follows me with his penetrating gaze and I swallow hard. What’s up with me?

Antunes passes me with a bottle of wine wrapped in a white cloth and winks at me congratulating me on the successful mission. I sketch a small smile and disappear with the cart. When I get back to the kitchen, I stop and stand motionless looking at the void. I feel myself trembling.

Is everything okay?

I look at Gloria who is frowning and looking at me while scrubbing a pot, tightly holding a wire cake with plump hands. I wake up and drop the cart.

Yes, I answer with doubts. I think it went well.

She smiles and continues her work but I remain stiff and confused. That man is sinister, and why does he look at me like that? As if…

Alice, help me get the platters out, let’s put them up there and then we put the desserts here.

I take a deep breath and look at Antunes.

Right.

I watch Antunes while imitating him and try to memorise the process so next time I don’t have to ask him. I’m not getting paid, I’m not properly employed, but I know that my stay and the food are an offer, so I want to do my best to cover at least these expenses.

With desserts ready to go, I follow the corridor but before entering the dining room, I take a deep breath and focus on what I should do. I have to get out of that look that will probably fall on me again. My steps are decided – in my head – and advance to the table. They talk to each other, with cutlery resting on plates and wine glasses in half. When I approach them, the conversation stops and the attention falls on me. Again, I’m a stranger at their house, it’s normal for them to examine me.

Can I lift the dishes? I ask, looking at the two men closest to me, avoiding the one in the navy sweater.

At ease, replies the man with the tail.

At first glance, he seems to be the most accessible, has a genuine smile and a very natural look with a less rigid stance than the others. I look at him and nod. I take his plate. I take the brownish plate and finally the man in the navy-blue sweater hands me his plate by stretching his arm. I look at the plate and sketch a slight smile of thanks. I put it down on the cart, on the bottom tray and grab the first dessert plate. I don’t know whom I’ll serve first.

Is there an order?

Fortunately, the man with the pigtail helps me.

It could be the pudding. He speaks.

Okay. I smile, relieved.

I break a slice of pudding, take it to the plate and land it in front of him, who immediately concentrates on what is in front of his eyes.

This pudding is a marvel, he comments taking the fork.

Auburn man smiles.

Yeah, but today I’m going to want the mousse. He looks at me.

I turn to serve him and place the plate in front of him. Like the other, he focuses his attention on the mousse while exchanging impressions with his friend about what each one is eating.

My throat is dry. It only remains to serve one. I look at him not wanting to show my nervousness and I wait for an indication. But he doesn’t. With the look on me, he seems far from here. I look away.

Will you want some dessert? I ask in a half voice.

He blinks as if he has woken up from a dream and nods.

Sorry. Outlines a new smile. Yes, the… He looks at the desserts and again at me, …apple pie.

I turn around quickly so I don’t have any nervous breakdown and take a deep breath as I take a slice of the pie. The apple pie looks delicious but is so crispy that I have trouble keeping it steady and taking the whole slice. I see pieces falling apart and I start to sweat. I can’t handle the spatula and he’s watching.

I hear a creaking in the chair and I see him rise. Oh no. I’m doing a bad job.

I’ll help myself, he says friendly.

I look at him.

He’s tall.

Gallant.

I shudder at having him by my side and put the spatula down.

Sorry.

This pie is not easy, his smile widens. No problem.

I admire his white teeth and bright smile. Unlike the others, he has almost no beard and black hair feels strong and silky. I thought that men like that existed only in magazines.

He sits down again with the pie in his hand and I walk to the kitchen without looking back. I drop the dirty dishes on the foam-filled stool and stare at Gloria who sings something to herself.

Who are they? I suddenly ask.

Gloria smiles.

The three good guys? They are the residents of this castle. She says.

I wrinkle my forehead.

Initially I thought an elderly couple lived here, maybe a son or two but three men? It’s something strange. As if reading my thoughts, Gloria laughs.

I also made the same expression you did when I came here.

What expression? I…

That! That one. She laughs. But it’s okay, that reaction is normal. Get used to it. They are very close.

Are they family? I’m curious.

Long-time friends. She clarifies. The owner of this is Mr Gabriel. The other two came later but since then, they are always together.

I force a smile and don’t ask anything more.

I’m in the room, looking at the ceiling. I want to sleep; I want to disconnect from the world but my mind doesn’t allow me to do it. I turn and turn; my breath starts to accelerate and I know what’s next. Tremors. Nauseas. Palpitations. Memories and things, I can’t stand. I lift my torso and run my hand over my forehead.

I’m sweating.

I flex my knees and drop my head in exasperation. Did I leave home so I couldn’t even sleep here? I pick up the phone and see that it is after midnight. Tomorrow I have to get up early, I’ll be exhausted if I don’t sleep. Maybe a tea will calm me down. I get up, put on the pink slippers and leave the room in white satin pyjamas – shorts above the knees and a t-shirt. My hair is tousled from having been lying down but at this hour I don’t intend to meet anyone so I don’t brush it or fix it. Go loose and fall on my back. My hair is long brown with light waves and lighter locks.

In each corridor there are at least two lamps connected, letting me see the path but even that doesn’t reassure me. I don’t usually fear the dark since I was a child but being in a castle at night where I can only hear my steps and my breathing is intimidating. I go down the last spiral stairs and head to the kitchen. Everything is dark, I look for the switch with both hands and when I turn on the light, I look around. The kitchen is so clean and tidy that no one would say that hours ago it was a huge mess.

I advance between the cabinets and open the drawers, one by one, in search of a tea bag. There are lots of drawers, doors and divisions. I don’t