Read Online The Guardian (Mended Souls Book 1) by Jacquie Biggar - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jacquie Biggar
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pretty pale.”
No kidding.
Seeing a ghost tended to do that to a guy.
Scott sidestepped the chair to get a closer look. If he was hallucinating, this was one hell of a dream. He stretched out an unsteady hand and brushed a downy feather, the color of a cotton ball. He looked up and met the hazel gaze he knew as well as his own.
“You’re real.” A hard ball of emotion choked him. Tears leaked down his face. Overwhelmed, he wrapped his arm around Lucas’ neck and dragged him close. “I can’t believe it. You’re here.”
Warm breath whispered near his ear. “I’m so fricken sorry, Scott. So sorry.” Lucas’ arms hugged him back, pinching his ribs, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t alone anymore.
“Well isn’t this sweet?” A voice snickered, and laughter from others followed.
Lucas stiffened. His arms tightened, smothering Scott, before he stepped away, placing himself in front of the newcomers. Scott was left staring at a six foot wing span.
The room got deadly quiet.
“Figured you wouldn’t take my advice,” Lucas drawled, the words deceptive. His body prepared for attack, from legs spread wide to thick shoulders and fists the size of cement blocks hanging by his side.
What was he talking about? Who were these guys?
The questions would have to wait. For now he needed to stand with his friend and try to be a help instead of a hindrance. He glanced around for some kind of weapon and noticed a broom leaning against the wall; it would have to do.
He grabbed the handle and moved to Lucas’s left so his good arm was free to swing. He could see three, maybe four, teenagers, and by the scent of the wacky tobbaccy they were passing around, they were partying down. He didn’t care, they could just take it down the road. This was his haven for the moment.
Scott figured he’d try the friendly approach first. “Hey, how’s it going?”
Did teens even say that any more? He shrugged and took a few steps toward their leader, a kid with spiked green hair. Lucas hissed a warning behind him that he chose to ignore. “Look, we were here first. Why don’t you and your buddies find a new place to hang out?”
The punker eyed him up and down, then blew a ring of smoke in his face. “Why don’t you make us?” He pulled a hand out of his pocket and made his point with the business end of a switchblade.
Lucas snarled.
One of the other kids swore and dropped a beer, the yeasty smell vaporizing on the crisp night air. “C’mon man, let’s get outta here.”
The Punker ignored him and flopped into Scott’s recently vacated chair. “You guys tellin’ me you’re scared of a couple of gimped up weirdoes? Cut me a break.”
Pot, meet kettle.
Scott sighed. Obviously this kid was spoiling for a fight. Too bad he wasn’t up to granting him his wish. “Whatever, dude. Knock yourself out.”
He turned away, motioning for Lucas to precede him out the door. It wasn’t worth the hassle.
The chair scraped the floor. Before he could swing around to see what happened, Lucas slammed him to the ground. The air whooshed from his lungs as his friend’s six foot plus frame impacted with his already bruised body. Lucas’ wings encompassed them, creating a shield. Scott heard shouting and feet pounding as the teens ran away.
“’kay, we’re clear. Let me up, you’re squishing me.” He used his free hand to lever it under Lucas’ shoulder. He wasn’t moving.
“C’mon, buddy, let me up.” Desperation crept into his voice. Something was wrong. He pushed harder and finally managed to roll Lucas onto his side.
Scott sat up, cradling his side. Lucas’ eyes were closed and his skin looked white with shock. What the hell happened?
The wings folded and disappeared into his back and Scott’s eyes pulled a Roger Rabbit.
Holy shit.
His friend’s brown hair changed color, going almost gray and bristly. Even his body shape and clothing changed, developing a middle-aged paunch covered by a stained T-shirt and
No kidding.
Seeing a ghost tended to do that to a guy.
Scott sidestepped the chair to get a closer look. If he was hallucinating, this was one hell of a dream. He stretched out an unsteady hand and brushed a downy feather, the color of a cotton ball. He looked up and met the hazel gaze he knew as well as his own.
“You’re real.” A hard ball of emotion choked him. Tears leaked down his face. Overwhelmed, he wrapped his arm around Lucas’ neck and dragged him close. “I can’t believe it. You’re here.”
Warm breath whispered near his ear. “I’m so fricken sorry, Scott. So sorry.” Lucas’ arms hugged him back, pinching his ribs, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t alone anymore.
“Well isn’t this sweet?” A voice snickered, and laughter from others followed.
Lucas stiffened. His arms tightened, smothering Scott, before he stepped away, placing himself in front of the newcomers. Scott was left staring at a six foot wing span.
The room got deadly quiet.
“Figured you wouldn’t take my advice,” Lucas drawled, the words deceptive. His body prepared for attack, from legs spread wide to thick shoulders and fists the size of cement blocks hanging by his side.
What was he talking about? Who were these guys?
The questions would have to wait. For now he needed to stand with his friend and try to be a help instead of a hindrance. He glanced around for some kind of weapon and noticed a broom leaning against the wall; it would have to do.
He grabbed the handle and moved to Lucas’s left so his good arm was free to swing. He could see three, maybe four, teenagers, and by the scent of the wacky tobbaccy they were passing around, they were partying down. He didn’t care, they could just take it down the road. This was his haven for the moment.
Scott figured he’d try the friendly approach first. “Hey, how’s it going?”
Did teens even say that any more? He shrugged and took a few steps toward their leader, a kid with spiked green hair. Lucas hissed a warning behind him that he chose to ignore. “Look, we were here first. Why don’t you and your buddies find a new place to hang out?”
The punker eyed him up and down, then blew a ring of smoke in his face. “Why don’t you make us?” He pulled a hand out of his pocket and made his point with the business end of a switchblade.
Lucas snarled.
One of the other kids swore and dropped a beer, the yeasty smell vaporizing on the crisp night air. “C’mon man, let’s get outta here.”
The Punker ignored him and flopped into Scott’s recently vacated chair. “You guys tellin’ me you’re scared of a couple of gimped up weirdoes? Cut me a break.”
Pot, meet kettle.
Scott sighed. Obviously this kid was spoiling for a fight. Too bad he wasn’t up to granting him his wish. “Whatever, dude. Knock yourself out.”
He turned away, motioning for Lucas to precede him out the door. It wasn’t worth the hassle.
The chair scraped the floor. Before he could swing around to see what happened, Lucas slammed him to the ground. The air whooshed from his lungs as his friend’s six foot plus frame impacted with his already bruised body. Lucas’ wings encompassed them, creating a shield. Scott heard shouting and feet pounding as the teens ran away.
“’kay, we’re clear. Let me up, you’re squishing me.” He used his free hand to lever it under Lucas’ shoulder. He wasn’t moving.
“C’mon, buddy, let me up.” Desperation crept into his voice. Something was wrong. He pushed harder and finally managed to roll Lucas onto his side.
Scott sat up, cradling his side. Lucas’ eyes were closed and his skin looked white with shock. What the hell happened?
The wings folded and disappeared into his back and Scott’s eyes pulled a Roger Rabbit.
Holy shit.
His friend’s brown hair changed color, going almost gray and bristly. Even his body shape and clothing changed, developing a middle-aged paunch covered by a stained T-shirt and
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