The Guardian

It’s cold, dark, and wet with snow covering every surface.

“Where is she.” I flick the cigarette away, sighing out acrid smoke. Thirty years I’ve watched her, waited for her, protected her. It was tiresome. I even got hit by a car once just because she’d been busy keeping her jogging rhythm and ran out into the street.

She didn’t know. Of course. When she saw me, it was not my face she saw, just a random stranger. I always thought it was better that way, that she didn’t know she was protected. At least, until last week.

I shivered. Immortal life, but the cold still bit into me. My watch glowed, 8:46, 10 minutes longer than I should have had to sit here freezing.

The first time Beth went through the cemetery gates, it caught me off guard. She’d gone for her usual night time run, ear buds in and oblivious to potential dangers. Why she wanted to enter those particular woods, I couldn’t fathom, but I froze as I watched her blonde pony tail bounce it’s way down the dark path. A path I could not follow. A place I could not protect her. I waited forty-five freezing minutes. She finally emerged, blissfully unaware of having left me behind to chain smoke and imagine horrible things that could befall her.

The next night, I tried to stop her. I approached her as an old man, kind, gentle. “Sweetheart, you don’t want to go in there.” She’d jogged in place and given me a smile reserved for the annoying yet elderly. I’d gripped her elbow, leaning in close, “Please, dear, don’t go in there. It’s not a good place.” She had nodded, “oh, thank you,” and continued down the sidewalk, only to loop back and jog through the side gate. So, I waited forty-five minutes.

I tried to stop her, over and over. I was a woman her age, a young boy, and much to my ever lasting horror: a priest. She was drawn to the place, hallowed ground, where I could not go.

Finally, I approached her as myself, outside her apartment. She was slowly warming up her limbs, stretching even as I stepped into her space. I’d decided to go for a simple, straight forward approach, “You can’t run in the cemetery, choose another path.”

She jumped, startled, though I’d done nothing to hide my approach. “Huh?” She looked up at me. I repeated myself, wondering how she functions perpetually oblivious.

“Do you own the path?” Her harm stretched over her chest, leaning to the side to also stretch her legs.

I huffed, “No, but it’s important you don’t go there.”

“Why?” She took her phone out, pulling up her fitness app. “Why?” She repeated half distracted by the phone.

I loomed over her. Compared to me she was small and seemed delicate and soft. That was until she huffed, rolled her eyes, and flipped her hair. And there it was, the obstinate lack of care about her own well being that drove me to chain smoke outside of a cemetery in freezing temperatures.

I’d grabbed her arm, “Beth, don’t go into those woods. Please. I can’t protect you there. I can’t follow...” She pulled against my grip, eyes wide and a scream about to surface. I could feel it in the tension of her body. When I grabbed her she finally realized that this could be a bad situation, not just an inconvenient one. I quickly released her, red marks where I’d gripped too tight. “Please,” I begged, “I need to be able to protect you and I can’t there.”

She slipped out the small side opening and skirted around me to the sidewalk. “Oh, my God. You creep!” She screeched at me, “You’ve been following me!” She backed away. People were starting to gather.

“No, it’s not like that, I’m trying to protect you.” A step towards her, slow and steady.

“What? Protect me from what? Who are you?” Through all the years protecting her, watching her blunder her way through life, I’d rarely seen even a hint of real fear. But there it was, flickering to life in her eyes, aimed at me. Beth turned and started jogging away, crossing the street and putting more distance between us. I was supposed to protect her, not scare her.

I tried on my best, ‘my mistake’ smile. “Sorry,” I said to the elderly lady glaring at me through her half opened door, “I thought we’d been in school together.” She seemed unconvinced but closed the door. I exhaled slowly and melded into the shadows, sending out gentle influence to convince the neighbors to have business elsewhere.

I hated influencing people. It felt wrong, cursed, and gave me too much insight into their inner thoughts. I never influenced Beth, it was too much of a violation, but if she kept me out here much longer, my influence would be the least of her worries.

Jabbing out another cigarette and glancing at my watch, “What the hell, Beth,” I mutter, watching the digital numbers change again. Almost 20 minutes late.

The sound of feet hitting pavement reached my ears, but it wasn’t the usual steady cadence of Beth’s sneakers striking the cracked concrete. I put the pack of cigarettes back in my pocket and peer into the darkness between the trees. I can’t see past the first few oaks. Crossing the street, I push against the invisible barrier keeping me from entering the grounds, I can feel it thick and oily against my skin. A slide of sneakers on gravel, harsh breaths, they were getting closer. Was it Beth? Was that a second set of footsteps? Pacing in front of the entrance, helplessly grinding my teeth, I turn as Beth barrels into me.

Beth presses against me, gasping, “He grabbed me, I couldn’t, couldn’t get away and then he slipped so I ran because there was ice,” she isn’t making sense in her panic. But I’m listening. I’m waiting, power coiling in my gut, hearing heavy steps running towards us. They aren’t sliding, there is no fear in those steps, but there will be. Guiding Beth to crouch against the cemetery wall, I step away, hidden by shadows of the old oaks that block the streetlights.

He bursts onto the sidewalk, looking for his victim but instead finds my glowing eyes burning into him from the shadows. Before he can move, I’m in front of him, grabbing the front of his coat. He reeks of stale booze and grime, his breath is acrid and hot on my face.

“What are you doing?” I pull him close, towering over him.

He shrinks away, “Nothin’, I wasn’t nothin’ just leavin’ the church.”

I can sense Beth in the shadows behind me, I have to get to her, check that she’s ok. The pull is overwhelming. I don’t want her to see violence, especially if that violence is being delivered by me.

I shake him, “Leave here.” Pushing power into my voice, I watch as his eyes glaze over under my influence. I fight the overwhelm of his scattered wits, the screams of hunger and addiction threatening to press into my mind. “Leave here and do not return. Do not go near her or any other woman again.” Dropping him to the ground, I turn to Beth, vaguely registering the sounds of the human scurrying away into the night.

Her breathing has slowed and she’s looking up at me. I look like I did at her apartment, having decided to conserve energy for warmth instead of shifting while waiting for her. Fear flits across her features, making her eyes too large and round. I squat down, holding my hands up and trying to will myself to look less intimidating without actually shifting my features. “Beth,” I keep my voice as soft as I can, “are you hurt? He’s gone now, you’re safe.”

Opening her mouth, no words come out. Her hair is falling out of the pony tail and she’s starting to shiver from cold and the adrenaline leaving her system. Closing her mouth she shakes her head.

“You’re not hurt.”

She nods. I have to get her inside and warmed up before she gets much colder.

“Can you stand?”

She nods again, but when she tries, she’s uncoordinated and tumbles back onto her butt.

“Ok, can I help you?”

Hesitatingly, she reaching up and I grasp her forearms and haul her to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her should, giving her stability and warmth, we make our way the few blocks to her apartment. I’m pretty sure she’s injured her ankle, the way she limps and inhales sharply as we step up onto the small porch. I take the keys from her trembling fingers and let us into the dimly lit living room.

I’d only ever seen it from the outside, wishing to give her privacy and space. It’s cozy, a bit cluttered and a mismatched array of items that have found their homes on various surfaces. A small home office is tucked off to the side. She works from home, though I’m not exactly sure what she does, but I like that it keeps her safely in her apartment.

I guide her to the couch and she slumps down with a sigh. I move to the kitchen, putting ice in a towel and rummaging in the cabinets for a glass to fill with water. She’s watching me from the couch when I go back to her.

Handing her the water, I kneel in front of her and work on getting her shoes off. Her ankle is already swollen and she flinches away from the ice.

Huffing, I pull her foot back to me, “It’s going to be worse if you don’t put ice on it.”

“Who are you?” Her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard, a little cracked from her fright in the cemetery.

“Baydren.” I hadn’t spoken my true name in I’m not sure how many years. It felt weird saying it out loud. “I am a Guardian. It’s,” I try taking in a deep breath against what is sure to be a conversation I’m not supposed to have, “it’s complicated. But you’re safe now, that man won’t bother you again.”

She’s nodding, but I can tell it’s too much for her to even start processing. I start with something simple. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Did he hurt you?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just fell and twisted my ankle when I was running away. He was slow.” A small smile creeps over her lips, “I guess all that running has paid off.”

I suppress a comment about how if she hadn’t insisted on running there, we wouldn’t be in this mess. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

I can feel the questions chasing each other in her mind. It’s tempting to just influence her into a state of calm, put her to sleep, and slip back into the shadows. Something she can just brush off as a strange dream. But I don’t. I can’t betray her trust like that. So I wait.

“What are you a guardian of?”

“You,” I say simply. It is simple, in a way.

“Like, a stalker?” She’s trying to be glib, rolling her eyes, but I see the tension.

“No, I’m a Guardian. It’s more of a calling or compulsion” I’m not supposed to be telling her this but I failed to protect her, I feel like I owe her an explanation.

She’s waiting for me to go on. I’ve never seen her so still. Usually, she’s bouncing on her toes preparing for a run, or rushing through her errands, chatting away on her phone.

Taking a deep breath, “I was created to protect humans who are important. It’s all I’ve ever known. My kind can change our appearance to blend in and influence others to better protect the person under our care.”

“What do you mean, change your appearance?”

“I can shift the way I look.” Looking up at her from my position on the floor, tending to her ankle, I expect to see skepticism or fear, but instead she looks almost curious. “I was the old man that tried to stop you from going into the cemetery, and the woman, and the boy.”

Clutching a blanket over her chest, she pulls away, “You were them? So what are you some supernatural stalker?!”

This was not going well. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not explaining this very well.”

“You got that right.”

“Let me start over.”

Nodding, she lowered her hands and allowed me to take her foot again.

“When some people are born, they have important destinies. They’re meant to do something great. For some it is a terrible thing and for others it’s wonderful, but it’s a path that changes the course of humanity. When that person is born, a Guardian is assigned to them. The Guardian does not know why this person is important but they are compelled to keep them safe.”

Beth is plucking at the blanket she’s pulled over herself. “So, you’re my Guardian and you have to protect me my whole life?”

“It may be your whole life or it may only be once you are on your destined path. I won’t know until it happens. Usually, you wouldn’t even know about me. The only evidence would be the lack of things. You’ve never broken a bone or been in an accident, you seem to have excellent luck with near misses despite being terribly oblivious.”

“Hey! I’m not oblivious!”

I stare at her, “you are.”

She shrugs, “well, I guess it’s good to have you then.”

I make a non-commital sound, “But you shouldn’t know I’m here. I’ve failed to protect you. This never should have happened, but you’re so damned stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn, I just wanted to run the cemetery path. It’s quiet and I like it. Besides, you could just follow me.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I can’t go there. I can’t go anywhere that’s hallowed ground.”

“Are you a demon?” She whispers, the flicker of fear again. “I’ve read stories.”

Rolling my eyes I get to my feet. “I’m not a demon, I’m a Guardian. We’re under Zeus, or Odin, or whichever pagan god you choose. Guardians serve humanity on behalf of the gods, protecting destinies and ensuring the will of the heavens comes to pass. Which,” Sighing and sitting down next to her, “means we cannot enter any realm dedicated to the Christian God, including cemeteries.”

“This is real? Not some elaborate plot to stalk me or weird joke, you’re serious.” She was taking it much better than I could have predicted. “When you came to my porch and tried to intimidate me into staying out of the cemetery, it was so you could protect me.”

I nodded.

“And all of this is because I’m someone important?,” Snorting into her glass of water, “That’s nuts!”

I can’t help a wry smile, “that about sums it up Bethy.” The glare she gives me at mention of her old nickname is worth it. “I know this is a lot but,” a shrill ringtone stops me.

Looking sheepish, she swipes the phone to answer it. I move into the kitchen to refill her water and offer a bit of privacy.

Then I feel it, the constant tug toward her, it’s a little less. I can see Beth in the reflection of the dark kitchen window. She’s talking animatedly, clutching the phone to her ear with one hand and her other pumping into the air in celebration.

The pull toward her is slipping. I don’t remember ever being this aware of it before but as I watch her, that infuriatingly oblivious woman who had ruled the last 30 years of my life, I feel her destiny settling into place. Whoever is on the other end of that phone is giving Beth the opening she has needed to step onto her fated path. Smiling, I watch her eyes dance and sparkle and I may be falling just a little bit in love with her. I don’t need to know her destiny, but I hope it is as beautiful as she is in this moment. And, for the first time in hundreds of years I don’t want to go.

She hangs up the phone and looks at me, “Baydren?” Her eyes are shining, “That was amazing, I just found out...”

“Don’t,” I’m holding up my hand to stop her even as I move toward her. I can’t know, I’m not supposed to. It feels wrong, like the violation of influencing her. “I feel it, this is your destiny. And you will be so brilliant. I have watched you, loathed your lack of awareness, admired your determination. Whatever it is, you will be brilliant and I can leave you now, to protect another.”

I slip into my coat to leave, but she’s standing, hobbling on her bad ankle. “Baydren, no I just met you. I want you to stay.”

“You will be amazing, Beth. Absolutely brilliant. Your destiny has arrived and, while I’m sorry I won’t get to see it, I feel that it’s right.” She rushes into me, and I return the hug for a moment.

Releasing her, I turn and walk out of the apartment.

The tug pulling me to protect Beth has completely dissolved by the time I take a drag on the cigarette I light at the corner of her street. Her face is fading from memory, as I inhale I fight to remember why I thought she was so stubborn. By the time I stomp the cigarette out under my boot, she’s a whisper of a name on a long list stretching back centuries.

I turn as a faint sensation tugs at the back of my mind. I follow it as I feel the call of a new destined one to protect. A new path is unfolding.