Guardian in the Shadows

Maeve · Chapter 5 of 14 · 12-minute read

“Peanut! Go to you room—now!”

I half-expect her to argue with me and remind me that she’s more than just a toddler, but from her location out of view of the door, she must know by the sound of my voice that I mean only to keep her safe and I need her to respond like a child, not a thousand-year-old witch queen guarded by wolves. Hopefully, she’ll stay there and not crawl out the window or try to take matters into her own little hands. Not with this man.

Her footfalls pad off in the opposite direction behind me to the little room with the princess bed and white dresser. Two days ago, I knew her capabilities well, but now, she’s just as likely to wield lightning bolts or kitchen knives to protect herself in ways she clearly could not succeed in her last life.

The late afternoon sun at his back, his face in shadow, I’d still know Spencer von Windlach anywhere. Not just by his broad shoulders, but by the smell of sandalwood on his skin. He takes a single step toward me, just enough that the fluorescent ceiling lamp in the kitchen lights up his face. He’s older than when I last saw him, three years and a day ago. Maybe ten years older.

“Hello, Maeve. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest as I face the outcast who could have been one of the most powerful priests in the order—Siobhan’s former lover and Veronica’s biological father. Inhaling slowly, I stare like the love-struck schoolgirl I was when I first met him in high school, but now, instead of his dreamy teenage swagger, he’s a ghost materializing from the shadows.

“Maeve? It’s me, Spencer.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “Don’t look so grim. I come in peace, as they say.”

Frozen to my spot, I blink at him. He’s changed since I last saw him. Long blond hair that used to brush his shoulders is pulled into a low ponytail. The thick gold necklace around his neck and a shirt of slinky fabric have been replaced by a black tourmaline pendant and a black leather jacket. He was always in style, but this look is too edgy.

Maybe he’s been in Europe?

I’m torn between my lingering respect for him and fear of what his arrival could mean. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, a gentleness that I wasn’t expecting from someone with the gall to challenge the Ranking High Priestess. But beneath that quietness, there’s a fire, a determination that speaks of his unyielding spirit. That’s why I’d fallen hard for him, even if no one knew of my crush but Siobhan. He was the best thing that ever happened to Siobhan, but she used him. Used him and ignored my feelings for him.

“Maeve! Sheesh! Let me in! It’s dangerous for me to be seen here.” He lightly pushes me aside and steps past me, closing the door behind him. He pauses to secure all three locks on the kitchen door. “I forgot you could be like this.”

I can’t imagine the look on my face because when he glances back at me, he apologizes.

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” he adds. “You were always the quiet one. Helpful, and supportive, too. But. . .but meek. Not like. . .her.” He smiles. “Don’t worry—you’ll grow out of that. I sure did.”

“Um, come in?”

He brushes past me into the kitchen, looking around and nodding approvingly. As he spies the cake on the countertop, his face lights up. Without a word, he goes straight to the cabinet with the fine china—as if he lives here and knows where I keep everything—and brings out two saucers, two dessert plates, two forks, and two cups. He motions for me to have a seat at my own table. I watch in awe as he puts a kettle on the stove and, minutes later, brings two slices of chocolate cake along with freshly brewed hot chocolate to the table.

How did he know my favorites? We never shared dessert. . .before.

He shifts in his chair as he removes two small, polished sticks from the pocket of his jacket, and arranges them neatly on the table within his reach. I don’t touch the cake on my plate, but Spencer stabs his slice with his fork, closes his eyes, and lets the dessert melt in his mouth.

“Oh, my God, Maeve. You always make the best desserts.” He licks his lips and squints at me as I try to remember the last time he might have eaten anything I baked. “You look. . . well, Maeve,” Spencer starts, his voice carrying a note of sincerity mixed with something else—regret, perhaps? He props his chin on his knuckles and grins sheepishly at me as if he remembers something I don’t. His Walking Lightning bind rune tattoo—a symbol of the Daeganean priesthood, same as mine—peeks from under the sleeve of his jacket before he digs into the cake again.

“Spencer,” I whisper. “I thought. . . I thought you were⁠—”

“Shunned? Yes, I was. Still am. If they catch me here, they’ll kill me. Ever notice how few members of the priesthood die of natural causes?”

I jump up and pull the kitchen curtains closed. “Then why are you here?”

He shrugs. “I’ve learned to shield myself from the High Council and all their psychic snoops. My friend, Terre Vanderholt, taught me how. He’s the only one who ignores the order to shun me. There’s only a tiny chance of them finding me because of where I’m hiding.”

“But why? Why are you here now? Putting yourself in danger? You just disappeared. No contact, no nothing.”

He sighs, his gaze lingering on the cake before meeting mine. “I couldn’t. Not and survive. Plus, it wasn’t the right time. I kept reaching out, scrying, but you and the little girl were fine on your own. Now all that’s changed. You’re in danger. If I could feel High Priestess Jaryx incarnating on this plane, across space and time, the High Council can feel it, too. Plus—” he savors another bite, then noisily sips his hot chocolate— “I have memories of meeting my daughter here two days after her third birthday.”

I gasp, then press my fingertips to my lips. “Y-you accepted the gift of knowing!”

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t tell you back then. I thought Siobhan would. It really messed with my head. I didn’t know what she was planning. I had this hot girl hitting on me, inviting me back to her place while her mom was out of town. I was in love, or thought I was.”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, I guess you would. She made you stand watch in case her mom came home early from her trip. I got to Siobhan’s mansion, and she had all these elaborate, exquisite astrological charts all over her room. She was trying to make sure she picked the right night to conceive.”

I nod. We both know the truth now. I’d met him first, but I’d been too shy to do anything but gawk at Spencer, and Siobhan had always been a shameless flirt to get her way. She could talk herself out of any kind of trouble and talk the rest of us into the same trouble. We’d heard Theo, one of the recruiters, talking about Spencer being the reincarnation of Mythryx, one of the three most formidable priests in our lineage, and she decided to use him to fulfill the prophecy of Jaryx’s return to make herself even more powerful within the priesthood. Afterward, she gave him the Initiation rites, prematurely, and he’d become the honored Last Priest, the last male Initiate who would sacrifice himself to become the vessel of the sleeping God upon waking. Ascension is the ultimate honor, but also the ultimate sacrifice, an obliteration of self to bring back our God as flesh. Only the man-turned-God, with the help of the Ranking High Priestess, an empath, and an angel can ascend and save the earth from being torn apart.

And that will now happen in Veronica’s lifetime, if not in mine.

“I didn’t know what she was planning, Spencer. I swear I didn’t. I knew she was up to something, but not the full story.”

Spencer’s smile lifts the corners of his mouth, yet fails to brighten his eyes. Our history is etched there in the shadow over us both, a past best left in darkness yet dragging me back through memories half-remembered, half-forgotten. Until now. We’ve kept these secrets for too long, and now it’s Veronica the shadows threaten.

“I know you didn’t. It wasn’t your style. Besides, Siobhan’s star charts were always shit. You were the one with talent.”

We both know, then. The astrological charts, cast in pen on enormous sheets of white paper, were my doing. Only, I hadn’t known what they were really for. Spencer wasn’t the only person Siobhan had used.

Out of nowhere, Spencer laughs. “You know, the High Council made a bunch of changes because of me, don’t you? Rules, regulations, even how we dress.”

“No, not really. I’ve not seen any of them in three years. The money shows up in my bank account like clockwork, but I’m completely on my own.”

Spencer winces. “That was me when Veronica was born. Alone. They Initiated someone else three days later so I wouldn’t be the Last Priest. And I can tell you that carrying a dormant God merged with you in your crown chakra is a wild feeling! They took that from me. They took everything from me. My purpose. My scholarships. My home. My stipend. My daughter.” He grits his teeth. “In that order.”

Watching him now, my heart aches for his lost innocence. His presence here is as shocking as it is alarming. The last time I saw Spencer, the High Council was berating him. The Ranking High Priestess’ face had been so purple with rage that I cowered in the corner. He was to be shunned, not for fathering Veronica, but for his role in what they believed was a failed prophecy. If Veronica had been born carrying the soul of Jaryx then instead of inheriting it later, perhaps things would have been different for him, but someone had to pay the price for Siobhan’s miscalculations, and Spencer was exiled in disgrace while I was exiled in service to the priesthood and their nepotism.

“Myth—” I start to call him by his soul name but quickly correct myself. “I mean, Spencer. I’m so sorry for what they took from you.”

Life had certainly changed for me as well, and I’d had to abandon all my plans, including college and a career as a librarian for the priesthood, but I’d still had Veronica, my precious little girl, even if she’d been born to someone else and a disappointment for not augmenting their power. All these years, I’ve known what Spencer didn’t: safety.

And now, we’ll never be safe again.

“It’s not your fault, Maeve. The moment I accepted the gift of knowing when Siobhan Initiated me, everything became clear. Siobhan never loved me. She wanted me for the one night I could impregnate her, but even if she didn’t love me, she thought I’d be an ally, so she Initiated me prematurely. The High Council passed a resolution that henceforth, only the Ranking High Priestess could Initiate priests because the choice of Last Priest can be dire. Wrongful Initiation will result in the new priest having the God-spark stripped from his crown chakra—certain death. But anyone can Initiate priestesses because they know none will ever be as powerful as the ones of Siobhan’s line.” He shakes his head, his blond ponytail dancing on his spine. “That’s why in another generation, we’ll have precious few numbers—144,000 souls and only a few hundred of us given Initiation rites. The future of our priesthood—and our mission to save the human race—is at stake.”

Once, according to the recruiters I’d eavesdropped on, Spencer had been seen as the future of our priesthood. Recruited for his potential, he briefly lived a life curated by the High Council until Siobhan seduced him and then Initiated him, forever altering his path. Not that a teenage boy needed much seducing.

I understand what he’s telling me. He was Initiated into the order by Siobhan, and he accepted the gift of knowing, that rare ability that allowed him to remember his future. His eyes had been opened. He knew Veronica would be born, and that on her third birthday, Jaryx’s soul would enter her body, marking the beginning of a new era for our priesthood. Spencer is the only one, aside from Veronica now, who carries the memory of the world’s end.

We sit at the kitchen table, the uneaten chocolate cake between us, and sip hot chocolate. The air is thick with unspoken questions and fears.

“You’ve, um, seen the future, Spence? What about Veronica’s? And mine?”

Spencer is gentle in his approach, tender even. Perhaps it’s gratitude for my care of Veronica these past three years, or maybe it’s something more. His eyes hold a depth of emotion that unnerves me. Despite my intrigue, I’m acutely aware of the danger his presence poses. If the High Council discovers us together, it could mean disaster for all of us, and I’m not powerful enough to hide myself or my intentions from them.

“I have a plan, Maeve, but I don’t have everything I need, not yet. And I remember only what I saw in person or heard about from people I trust, so I can’t say with complete authority that I know everything. As for my memories of the future, it’s going to be catastrophic for most people. Siobhan’s mother will die in a couple of years. Daughter, like mother, will rule the priesthood. She understands her mission to save the human race, and to her, the ends justify her means. That’s why she tried to manipulate prophecy. Same with her daughter, Aoife, who’ll follow in her footsteps, both politically and within the order. Both, through their magic, will serve as Secretary of State, and that will allow Siobhan access to corners of the world where they can advance their agenda.”

My hand shakes as I bring my cup of hot chocolate to my lips. Maybe the nurse at the emergency room was correct about us being the Illuminati, dabbling in global power plays.

I rub my forehead. “Siobhan has another daughter? Yours?”

He laughs. “Oh, hell no. Aoife. . .let’s just say that when Aoife takes control of the priesthood, she makes a lot of mistakes. It’s Veronica who is the key to humanity’s survival. It won’t be until after the earth shifts on its axis, but she’ll take control of the priesthood from Aoife. She’s the key to everything.”

I realize suddenly that he’s not mentioned my future. He’s carefully avoided it.

“You’re going to take her away from me, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here. To take her before the High Council can. Or before the welfare workers. You came to get her.”

“Not yet.” He leans forward, his eyes intense as he scoops up the two polished sticks, one in each hand, from next to his cake plate. “Look, I’m not here when the High Council comes, but they will come. And I don’t know what happens, not first-hand. I need to see her, Maeve. Tonight. I need to meet my daughter.”

Three loud raps at the kitchen door drown out his last words. I stand quickly, bumping my half-full cup and spilling hot chocolate across my clean tablecloth.

When I glance back, Spencer is gone. His chair is empty, the air around it still crackling with energy.

The half-eaten slice of chocolate cake is the only evidence he was ever here.

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