Guardian: The Guardian Part 8

"Pretty d.a.m.n hot! Who was that?"

"Ummh.. Just a guy I met during my walk," I lie, feeling terrible as I do.

"Well, if that was why you kept me worried, you are completely forgiven!" She says, hooking her hand into mine and dragging me towards the others. I field off most of her questions about Ariel, hastily asking her instead how it had gone with Mikkel.

"Fun!" She says, but when she doesn't say anymore I restrain from asking her for details. A shadow seems to fall over her. It had probably not gone as she had wanted. I could call her later in the weekend and find out the details.

"Welcome back!" Magnus says, high fiving me too, probably also congratulating me for the guy I had just kissed. I burn up with embarra.s.sment.

It is beginning to get dark now, probably slightly past 10 pm. I crack open another beer, and chug a large gulp, needing to still my nerves after the last rollercoaster of events.

I am quickly adapting to the taste of beer, even surprising myself by savoring its taste. An alarm goes off as Mikkel is busy narrating a story about a spring break trip he took to Prague earlier this year.

"Caroline!" Magnus calls from across the table, interrupting him. "Our bus leaves in five minutes."

"Oh, okay!" I say to him, getting up on my feet. I quickly hug Charlotte and A.M., and whisper to A.M. that I will call her Sunday afternoon, and we can have a long heart to heart. Mikkel too gives me a tight bear hug, and after quickly clearing my place at the table and throwing away the trash, I grab my bag and hastily follow Magnus to the bus stop. On the ride home we talk about the party and our cla.s.smates.

"Who is the guy you were kissing?"

"Just some guy I met, when I took my walk."

"Does he live in the neighborhood?"

"I don't know. Maybe," I say, not enjoying having to lie to my friend.

"Can I ask you something?" I say trying to change the subject. When he nods, I continue.

"Mikkel, does he like A.M.?" Magnus chuckles bitterly before answering.

"Who doesn't Mikkel like?"

"What do you mean?" I ask puzzled.

"Mikkel is a pretty boy, he enjoys flirting with pretty girls and being with them."

"So he doesn't have feelings for A.M.?"

"Oh, he has feelings alright! Just maybe not the kind of feelings you are hoping for."

"So he doesn't particularly care for her, as in like, like her?"

"No, but he thinks she's hot!"

"Oh!" I say crestfallen.

"Yep!" He answers me. I study him then, his face is turned away from mine, staring out into the darkness outside, and a thought hits me. Mikkel may not care for A.M., but Magnus is in love with her. The realization breaks my heart a little.

Why does life have to be so cruel and complicated? I rest my head on his shoulder. He looks at me questioningly, before shrugging and then wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

We ride on in silence. When we arrive at Lejtoft's main station, it is pitch black outside. We both walk towards the bike parking area in silence, unchain our bikes, and shouting good byes over our shoulders, we ride off in different directions.

I ride my bike slowly because I am a little unsure, having been drinking. I jerk a little in surprise when the warm air a.s.sails me, but I am not too surprised when a second later Raphael and Ariel are gliding in the air on either side of me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask quietly.

"Following you home," Ariel states simply.

"Why?"

"You pulled a lot of energy tonight to transfigure our brothers. Other forces might have felt it and will come searching for the source."

"..And sisters," I put in.

"What?"

"I transfigured your brothers and sisters not just your brothers," I explain.

"We have one word for it, whose closest translation in English is brother."

"Siblings," I state.

"Not siblings, not the same meaning. We are brothers." I do not bother to argue some more on the fact, choosing instead to concentrate on those 'other forces' he had mentioned.

"Other forces you said?"

"Yes," Ariel answers.

"Who are they?"

"No one you should be worried about," Raphael says.

"Then why did Ariel mention it?"

"He was just running his mouth as always.." Ariel crashes violently into Raphael's side, sending him flying across the air dangerously. The scream in my throat dies though, when I hear the two of them laughing as they fly faster and faster out of view, chasing each other as the soar up into the dark night sky.

They are just playing!

I keep biking on alone for a while, but then I have to stop abruptly, so as to avoid crashing into Ariel, as he suddenly flies into view again. One of the soft feathers from his wings touches my face as he cruises past me, attempting to get away from Raphael, who is flying fast after him with something akin to a smile on his face.

Raphael smiling! Wonders will never end.

I quickly swerve into my grandparents' driveway, lock my bike and rummage for keys to open the door. The door is however pulled open from the inside, and dad stands in his pajama bottoms, washed by the bright light from the entrance hall. I quickly look around to check for my self-proclaimed bodyguards, but I don't see them. My skin still tingles from the heat they radiate and the buzzing at the back of my head continues, so I know they must be somewhere nearby.

"Hi princess," dad calls, and I wince at the name, remembering how the angel of death had used it to threaten me.

"Hi dad," I call running smack into his arms and holding him tight against me. My reaction must have surprised him, but he doesn't protest, cradling me in his arms and kissing the top of my curly head as he closes the door behind us. I am glad to be home again.

Chapter 12.

I stretch out backwards as much as I can, until I hear a low crack from a spot on my spine, and then roll back in satisfaction. Dad wheels out a wheelbarrow full of c.r.a.p and rotten wood, from the floor we have been digging out all weekend, and he damps the trash onto the open trailer parked outside. I pick up the pitcher of lemonade I had made earlier this morning, before we left grandma's, fill up a gla.s.s and take it to him.

"Here dad!" I say handing him the gla.s.s just as he starts to walk back into the house. He rubs the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and then takes the gla.s.s from me with a smile. I watch him down it all at once, before handing the gla.s.s back to me with his face beaming underneath the grime covering it.

"You princess, are an angel," dad says tapping affectionately the top of my head, that has a bandana tied over my wild curls. I smile back at him, taking the gla.s.s back to the camping table placed in the middle of the large driveway. I then walk back into the house to help with the works, grabbing a nose mask on the way in. Dad and grandpa are busy replacing the plumbing in the bathroom, while grandma and I dig up what is left of the floors in the other rooms.

We've been working on the floor for the past week, grateful for our new roof as the weather had been wet. The weekend has been warm and sunny, however, hence blaring loud music and barbeque dinners at the driveway have made it bearable.

Grandma and I work quickly and effectively in silence, dumping the trash in a bucket that I empty into the trailer outside.

We are done with stripping the floor by a little past 3pm on Sunday. Dad and grandpa have already moved on to checking the electrical wiring in the house, as they finished replacing the plumbing in the bathroom and kitchen a while back.

I drag the bag of leca knots into the house and begin spreading a layer in the rooms, now that the plumbing works are finished. I use the measuring rod that dad had with him. Up to the 250mm mark, he had said.

Dad and grandpa, done with the electrical wiring, begin stomping down the leca knots I have been laying, ensuring the gravel like particles are well settled and in level, before they begin laying down the 300mm hard insulation we had bought at the building market yesterday morning.

Our floor is going to end up higher than it previously had been because of all the thermal insulation. However when we had redone the roof, we had agreed on doing away with the ceiling, and instead leaving the ma.s.sive trusses that we had spent hours treating and lacquering exposed. We placed about 400 mm insulation between the diagonal chords of the rafters. We had then tied the insulation in place using steel wires, and there after cladded the exposed insulation with two layers of fire boards to cover up the insulation. It was an ingenious idea, and every time I look up at the roof, I am glad that I'll be living here.

We might just turn this little ugly pumpkin into a royal carriage, I think to myself with an amused chuckle.

The work had kept me from troubling thoughts, thoughts of winged creatures, whom I still didn't know exactly what threat they posed in my life. I was determined to live my life though, as long as I could, and as such, nothing was going to keep me from being who I am- a teenager and a daughter.

The busy schedule with the renovation works had made it difficult for me to hang out with my new friends, but they understood, and knew that soon I'd have time for them, once our house was done. I just hope these angelic creatures would let me live that long.

I help the men in laying down the water tight membrane, just as grandmother is packing up our few camping paraphernalia later that evening.

We lock up the house, after cleaning ourselves as much as we can, before getting into the car and driving back to Lejtoft, with the trash in the carriage we are dragging behind the car. We drop the trash off at the city's main dumping and recycling center as per regulations, before we drive back to my grandparents' house. They all agree to let me take a shower first, as long as I promise to get started on dinner; which I promptly say yes to.

Later in the kitchen, I begin frying some chicken, and bring out the tortilla wraps from the dry foods cabinet. I turn on the oven to warm it up as I hack the lettuce, and dice the cuc.u.mber and tomatoes.

Not tonight! I think enraged, almost slicing my fingers when I see the infuriating Azrael sitting on the bonnet of my grandparents' car, and staring at me through the kitchen window.

I am so tired of these dumb creatures thinking that they can just come into my life and threaten me around, frightening me into meek submission every moment they can get. Do they think I am so feeble? Do they think I fear death so much?

I yank the large carving knife from the magnetic knife strip and rush outside towards the sodden creature. He doesn't even flinch as I approach him, waving the knife before me. The stupid devil just sits there c.o.c.king his head to one side, smirking at my approach. Fury burns in every inch of me, and I break into a sprint, lurching myself into the air as I approach him, aiming my knife at his jugular.

He lurches at me too, meeting me midair, one hand wrapped around mine holding the knife, and the other snaked around my body, pinning my other hand fast on my side as we remain afloat in the air, his wings stretched wide behind him.

I wrestle against him hysterically kicking, biting and clawing at his sides, hurting any inch of him that I can get myself to, with any part of me that can act as a weapon. I hear the chuckle, as another pair of hands grab me from behind, pinning my hands tightly to my sides. My new captor also uses his legs to immobilize mine by snaking them tight around mine and holding fast - our bodies still suspended in the air.

I know that scent, Raphael!

Despite the fact that I am overpowered, I don't let myself give in. I keep gnashing my teeth at the empty air before me, which a few moments ago had been Azrael's warm skin; daring the stupid angel of death to step closer. I know he can kill me in a split second if he so wishes, but I shall not cower before him as he does it.

"Get closer, you a*hole, and I'll bite that jugular right off." I threaten him. He chuckles at my threat, but I can see in his eyes that he has a new found respect for me, and my guts.

"Calm down, Caroline," Raphael whispers in my hair, his hand curled around my midsection, his radiating warmth seeping through my thin cotton pajama top into my skin. I guess one emotion is giving way to another, I think to myself in reproach to my reaction to Raphael's touch.

Ice cold Raphael, ew! My anger resumes when Azrael pries my fingers open and takes the knife from me.

"I will not calm down, Raphael. Instead I will carve out his stupid heart!" I say, anger like venom searing my veins.

I shudder in surprise when I hear the abrupt flapping as the two angels' wings that had just lain dormant behind their backs flutter powerfully against the cool night air, expanding wide in full splendor, towering from way past their heads and all the way down to the ground.

"What, you think that will scare me a*holes? I'm done cowering before you!" I say to them, struggling to keep my voice as quiet as I can, the last thing I want is to send my family after me out here. How would I explain two angels flying in the air with me suspended between them?

"Relax, we are here to protect you." Raphael repeats to me, recoiling his wings into his back gently.

"I don't care about your stupid protection. Tell Mr. Death here not to peep into my windows anymore. Or I swear to G.o.d, I'm gonna kill him, or make him kill me."

"Don't swear to G.o.d things you can't keep..."

"Oh trust me, sour-face. This is one promise I am ready to find a way to keep. Even if it kills me!" It annoys me that Raphael looks amused rather than scared or angry. I was going for the latter.

"Ok, go back to the kitchen and live your life, I will stay watch instead," Raphael says. "And will not look into the windows," he adds as an afterthought, dropping me gently the few feet left onto solid ground. When I keep standing next to them, the knife he has handed me back in my hands looking as though it aches to be used, he flicks his hand at Azrael and the angel of death flies away in an instance.

Raphael turns back to me and plasters a quick cold smile on his face, as though saying to me, there you go. I turn away and walk towards the door, just managing to hide the knife behind me as grandma opens the door before I can.

"What are you doing out here?" She asks.

"The onions were making me cry, I needed some air." I say, walking past her and heading to the kitchen, hoping that she will not notice that I have not sliced up any onions yet.

She begins setting up the table as I busy myself with chopping up the rest of the vegetables, and placing them into the small serving bowls. I chuck the wraps into the oven, as I scoop out the fried chicken from the pan into a gla.s.s bowl that I place on the dining table. When the table is set, and dad is standing in the hallway still rubbing his towel over his short wet hair, I take out the wraps, place them on the table as I too take my place on the table. We have a very quiet dinner, probably because we are all exhausted from the laborious weekend we just had.

After dinner, dad puts on a movie - s.p.a.ce jam, and we all seat before the TV, with me on the floor and my head resting against dad's knees. I must have fallen asleep, because dad taps me lightly awake, and asks me to go to bed. As I stumble out of the living room into the bathroom, I just make out the part of the movie where the aliens are busy stealing talent from other basketball players.

Sucky little suckers, taking others' abilities. Just like these d.a.m.n creatures are somehow making me give them superhot human bodies and multilingual abilities. I am so angry, raging mad. I brush my teeth with so much ferocity, that I draw blood. Screw them! I hate that I don't know anything about them, what they are doing here, and what they want to do here. They could be terrorist aliens, for all I know, come to threaten mankind. Destroy our world. Just think, I could be enabling the enemy. Angel of death my foot! I spit into the sink, my thoughts jumbled into chaos.

Once in my bedroom I shut the door behind me and unfold my drawing board. I place a clean canvas on it, set out my paints, and crack open the window. I engross myself in painting out my rage in bold strokes of shades of fierce reds, greens and oranges. My strokes are powerful and angry. Raging wave curves and jagged sharp zigzag lines, straight lines of determination abruptly interrupted by strokes of frustrations. I am done with the piece after about an hour of uninterrupted painting, at what time I take a step back from it to observe my work - still heaving heavily as I try to catch my breath.

I take a step back to admire my painting. It is a beautiful abstract piece, I must say, and it manages to calm me down.

"Not bad, princess," I compliment myself, moving my drawing board to the side by the wall so that dad doesn't b.u.mp into it in the morning, but I leave the canvas propped on it so that it can dry.

I feel better already, I realise as I pick up my paint brushes and walk with them into the bathroom to rinse them out.

"Is that you honey?" Dad calls from the living room.