Chapter 2
Evangeline
The low thrum of the engine does little to block out the nervous thoughts swirling in my head like my own personal tornado.
Each bump and divot on the road has my heart lurching, and every time we pass a mile marker, I grow more nervous and anxious.
Even the soft tapping of Sister Tammy’s fingers against her cheetah-covered steering wheel sets my teeth on edge.
“You know, honey,” Sister Tammy’s inquisitive eyes meet my gaze in the rearview mirror, completely oblivious of the raging storm growing inside me, “I can’t help but notice you seem a bit…
you know, on edge. Like how I feel when I’m playing cards with that lyin’, cheatin’ priest in our parish.
He may be a man of God, but he’s partying with the devil, that one is. ”
“You mean Father Joseph?”
“Don’t say that vile man’s name in this holy car.
” Sister Tammy shudders while murmuring a prayer under her breath.
I had no idea there’s so much tension amongst our congregation.
To be fair, I can’t even remember the last time I stepped inside a church.
No one in my family was overly religious. Spiritual, yes. But not religious.
“Enough about me. What’s bothering you?” Sister Tammy’s attention is back on me. I wish she’d pay attention to the road. Getting killed before I have the chance to reach The Guardian would be a sick joke from the universe.
“I’ve seen so many young women, all about your age, leave Grym Hollow after talking to The Guardian,” Sister Tammy continues, her voice teetering on accusatory.
As if I had a say in what those other women did.
I hardly knew them. “What’s going on? Is this some secret club?
A cult? Please tell me it’s not some sort of sex thing. ”
“It’s not some sort of sex thing.” Or at least I hope it’s not some sort of weird sex cult I signed up for.
The truth is hardly any better though, and something I don’t want to get into with this gossipy nun.
Sister Tammy will happily tell my business to anyone who’ll listen.
If there’s tea to be had, Sister Tammy is the town crier, always informing everyone of “breaking news.”
“Evangeline, are you in some type of trouble? Is that why you’re gonna see The Guardian? Oh, honey, your mama wouldn’t—”
“I’m not in any trouble, Sister.” And I don’t particularly want to hear what she thinks my mama would or wouldn’t want me to do.
One thing I learned from her is, if I don’t have anything nice to say to keep my pie hole shut.
I just hate when people speak about my mother as if they knew her better than I did.
My mother wasn’t a recluse, but she didn’t have many friends either.
Sister Tammy would not have made the top of her meager list. I know best what she would and wouldn’t want from me.
Not that it matters much now. She’s gone, and I’m left to make my own way in life.
I don’t realize I’m crying until the first tear rolls down my cheek and lands on my clenched fists in my lap.
Each tear is a reminder of how far I’ve come and what still lies ahead.
They aren’t of sadness, at least not entirely, but a reminder to keep pushing.
For them. For me. For a future I have yet to carve out in a new and mysterious world.
Despite my fears, a spark of peace blossoms within my chest, a sign I’m on the path I’m supposed to be on.
Sister Tammy is still speaking about The Guardian and the other woman who went before me.
I try to tune her out, but when Sister Tammy talks, she demands attention.
“I’m starting to feel like…oh, what do you kids call it nowadays?
Pimp? Sugar mommy? Whatever it is, I’m starting to feel like one since I’ve been sending you girls into the unknown.
Gotta say though, compensation? Not that great. You would think—”
Just then, something hits the top of the car. A loud echoing of metal breaking reverberates around the car. Sister Tammy screams and swerves off the road, straight into the woodsy area around us.
“Sweet baby Jesus, take the wheel!” Sister Tammy screams, and I watch in horror as she takes her hands off the wheel as if really expecting Jesus to poof from wherever He’s at to take over her 2008 Honda Civic.
“Hit the brakes!” I scream over her prayers. Our car is heading straight toward a large oak tree.
“I didn’t come all this way to fucking die by tree,” I growl and do something stupid.
I unbuckle myself from my seat, something I’ll stay awake and think about later when my adrenaline isn’t on high.
While Sister Tammy has moved on to praying to God and Mary while the radio blasts a country song I’ve never heard before, I climb my way to the front seat of the car.
“Evangeline! That’s not safe!” Sister Tammy shrieks as I fall onto her lap. There’s no helping it. I take the wheel, jerking it to the left, and slam my foot down on the brakes, which make a horrible screeching sound, indicating the brake pads have been neglected for far too long.
The car doesn’t come to an abrupt halt, and it shakes with the force of braking so quickly on uneven ground. I swear more trees spring up before us, just to fuck with me. I work hard to jerk the car out of the way each time, barely scraping by unfazed.
Finally—mercifully—the little Honda comes to a complete stop only a foot in front of another larger oak tree. For a moment, neither Sister Tammy or I speaks. The only sound comes from our labored breathing, and then a moment later, “Jesus, Take the Wheel” plays on the radio.
“A sign! The good Lord is watching out for us—ah!” Sister Tammy’s words break off in a scream, pointing at something ahead of her.
My head jerks up just in time to catch a blur of gray hovering above the car.
Before I can react, the creature lands gracefully on the hood, its massive wings outstretched, spanning at least eight feet.
The leathery feathers, though tough in appearance, have a smooth, almost silk-like sheen under the dim light filtering into the woods.
I let my gaze travel over the creature before us, taking in every detail.
His face is eerily familiar with sharp features framed by dark gray hair, tousled from the flight.
His eyes, distant and heavy with something unreadable, hold a profound sadness.
Horns curve from his head, stark against his windblown hair.
But what truly strikes me are the large wings protruding from his back.
The Guardian stands before us, naked from the waist up. His chiseled chest puts body builders to shame. Even Sister Tammy gasps as she takes in The Guardian, looking like a runway model straight out of Hell.
“I think I had a sip too much of the blood of Christ during dinner. Does that…man have wings?” She says the word man as if she’s unsure if that’s what she’s looking at. The Guardian is like no man I’ve ever seen before. He’s not really a man at all.
Ignoring the fact she just admitted to potentially driving drunk, I grab the handle and push open the car door, not so gracefully stumbling out. Before I can embarrass myself any further, I steady myself and glare at The Guardian. “You could have killed us,” I snap, finding no remorse in his eyes.
“I was not the one driving this monstrosity. No, Ms. Ward, if you would have died in that car, it would not have been my fault. Seems like you managed to escape just fine, though,” The Guardian says, barely glancing over the car. “I was on my way to retrieve you, but I see you had a ride.”
“‘Had’ being the key word,” I mumble, fishing for the contract I know he’s after from my bag.
It’s crumpled, and I think there are vegetable oil stains on the pages, but it’s legible.
I hand it over, and The Guardian gives it a quick glance as my heart pounds loudly in my chest. What if he says no?
That he’s changed his mind? I didn’t just almost hit a bunch of big-ass trees to be told I’m no longer allowed to leave this place.
His silence is suffocating and lasts far too long for my liking.
I’m about to say something that would probably make my mom scold me if she were here, but then The Guardian looks up, the contract vanishing before my eyes.
“Looks like everything is in order. Just to reiterate: the moment I take you through the portal to Mescos, you’ll never be able to set foot in Grym Hollow again. ”
“I’m aware. That’s the entire point,” I say, probably a little bit bitchier than I intended.
Still, he scared me and could have seriously injured Sister Tammy and me.
Speaking of Sister Tammy, she’s still staring at The Guardian with wide eyes, a mixture of fear and something akin to interest, far more than a woman of the church should have for a devilishly handsome man.
She’s just a girl after all. We like what we like.
Sister Tammy notices me staring and clears her throat, visibly shaking. “Well, I do hope you still give me five stars on the group chat before you go.” She looks like she wants to put as much distance as possible between herself and The Guardian.
“I’ll do my best not to land on top of cars anymore, Sister,” he says, bored of the conversation.
Despite her obvious fear, she doesn’t pass up the chance to reprimand him.
“See that you do, mister. Can’t make this a regular thing.
Some of us have to make a living, you know.
” Seeing Sister Tammy lecture The Guardian would be comical if I wasn’t so keen on getting the hell out of here.
Say what you want about the little nun, she is quite the feisty woman, even when scared.
“I’ll make sure to leave you five stars. We’re still alive, aren’t we?” I’m half joking, half reassuring myself we are, in fact, alive. I retrieve my suitcase from the back; the pans rattle as I stand it right side up. The Guardian raises his brow, but I elect to ignore his curiosity.
“Well, I’ll just be on my way then,” Sister Tammy says after a moment of tense silence.
She doesn’t wait for me to respond before putting the car in reverse and stepping on the gas.
How the damn car is still running is beyond me.
I fear she’s going to hit a tree—or three—but she somehow manages to skillfully navigate to the road without any further problems.
And then my last chance of turning back speeds away, leaving me alone with The Guardian.
“We should be off. Take my hand, Ms. Ward. I’ll take us back to the portal.” The Guardian stretches out his hand, offering it to me. My fate is sealed when I take his hand, clutching my suitcase in the other. I expect him to lead the way, but instead he says, “We’ll fly back.”
“What?” I gasp, body tensing as if already preparing for the worst. “I can’t fly. Why are we flying? Can’t we walk? Walking sounds good.”
The Guardian either doesn’t notice my nerves, or he doesn’t care. I think the latter. He ignores me and pulls me closer, an arm snaking around my middle. My breath hitches at the cool contact of his skin. “Time to take you to your fae king husbands. They are anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
My brain is slow to process his words. Husbands? As in plural? Did I miss that in the contract? Seems like a pretty big thing to miss, but maybe I didn’t read it as thoroughly as I thought.
“What do you mean husbands?” I ask, but my question is lost as we take to the air, my words swallowed up by the wind.