Ava Redman

Eros and Marcus watched Candor dig into his food with verve.             Finally when he’d dabbed his mouth with his napkin, setting it aside did he finally speak. “I’m ready to be a part of this mission.” Candor held up his hand when Marcus shuffled, “I know my seeing you was not a coincidence and that eventually we have crossed paths, would have had to work together again,” he gave Marcus an especially hard glare. Candor chewed on his bottom lip, ignoring the other words he wanted to say.             “There’s no point in waiting for you two to manipulate me into working with you. I’m here, make use of me but know this,” he leaned forward. “Things will not be like they were the last time,” Candor looked to Marcus, unflinching when he sat back.             Eros didn’t look to Marcus for confirmation when he said, “Done.”             Something like an exhale sighed between them all.             Eros spoke first. “I certainly missed having you here to add at least some convers

“I was thinking the same thing.”             Eros and Marcus looked up to where Candor stood. “It wasn’t that hard to find you,” he shrugged, his hands in his tailcoat. Candor seated himself at their table. He hadn’t needed to elicit the attention of the staff, hadn’t needed to explain why he wasn’t staying at the hotel. He’d simply flicked a switch in the host’s mind and made her unsee him, made himself blend in as somebody else.             Candor unhooked his black scarf, unbuttoning his jacket, placing it with deft fingers on the back of his chair. “The Council only provides the best for its two most treasured operatives.” It was hard to detect whether it was disdain underlying his words.             Marcus Ambruge did not respond, move or indicate discomfort in any way.             Eros was smooth as he drawled in that seductive voice, “It’s been an age since it’s been the three of us. As I recall you had a penchant for such luxury.”             Candor rose from his sea

Eros and Marcus hadn’t said much following the incident in the shop.             They’d spoken in brief sentences, alluding to what they’d learned but neither had wanted to openly voice that there might be another Portal.             It wasn’t until the next morning when they were seated in the restaurant for breakfast that they finally acknowledged each other and the task at hand. The opulent golden drapes dappled off some of that rare English sun. The hotel was fashioned in Victorian luxury and surprisingly not dated, simply historic and empirical. As much as Eros had insisted on the finer things in life, he’d taken a liking to the hotel and subsequently hated it as well. It somehow came with a price tag more in line with businessmen and aristocrats. The latter had yet to make an appearance. Eros scrolled through his tablet, taking advantage of the wifi when their hometown was a dead spot for such things. It had been intentional so as to keep the city and its vast array of sec

It was a cheap bed and breakfast with lace doilies and plastic tablecloths.             The smell of grease had at least been the same, as Enda, Rover and Annandale all lumbered in and set down at a table unceremoniously, their elbows sticking to the plastic.             “I don’t like this,” Enda voiced. “Did you see the way they treated us?”             Rover grumbled, “It was like the first week of school n we were the new kids.”             Candor sat at the head of the table and managed a polite smile as the waitress placed laminated menus before them. “They’ve always been like that,” his voice was quiet, restrained as he remembered things he didn’t want to. He wiped away a bead of sweat on his forehead. Seeing Marcus Ambruge had set his heart into overdrive. He’d made a point to steer clear of the man for years, had finally succeeded when his wife had died. Marcus and that wretched woman had given him peace; a reprieve as he’d mourned and now that time was up. Soon enoug

They’d gone round the back of the antique shop.             Candor had made quick work of erasing the last ten minutes from the three demons. He’d been surprised when Marcus had stepped in to do Ramon.             Marcus’s powers were different, subtler, his was the power of persuasion and he had persuaded Ramon to forget any of this had ever happened. Watching him at work, as Marcus touched his long fingers to the man’s temple; it was an art form in itself.             In comparison Candor had touched the demons briefly, hesitant and agitated.             Even Enda and Annandale had paused to watch Marcus.             Eros flicked off an invisible piece of dirt from his nails, “Let’s head back to the hotel and mull over our findings,” he inclined his head.             Enda grumbled, “Why’d you get a hotel when we get”-             “Enda quiet,” it was Candor who spoke. Eros and Marcus both faced him suddenly brows raised. “Don’t be so shocked that every once in a while

“The jar is left over from the power trade a few years back,” Candor said. Given the nature of the information he’d gleaned he’d waited until it was just the three of them. Marcus, Eros and Candor. He didn’t have to ask whether this information was too sensitive for the Travelling Guardians. He’d either be made to make them forget if he told them or worse.             Unless Marcus Ambruge stepped in to do it. The African giant rarely did his own dirty work these days. No. They’d drain Candor’s power before their own. It was the Guardian way. 

Candor sent in Enda and Rowan as Eros requested.             He waited meanwhile, watching the shopfront.             He’d taken less than a minute to slice through all three demons minds and ascertain what they knew of the demon Oracle and the glowing jar. Erasing their memories would be harder, he’d have to touch them physically to do it and it would be draining. A chill breeze flitted along the curves of the double Decker buses snicking around is neck as he pulled his jacket close, the cuffs up.             The wind had turned direction suddenly like an unwelcome tide, the scent of stale air clung to his nose. If he were the suspicious type he’d consider it a warning from one of the gods. Candor had his reasons for not subscribing to such legends. He took one final look at the bustling street and stepped towards the back alley where the others waited for him. 

“Well don’t I feel famous,” Eros slid his knives with equal precision back within their clasps around his torso, melting to his body with ease. His suit was hardly ruffled in the fight, his hair only a little swept out of place.             He ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed the ex-Guardian.             “You knew I would do this,” Ramon said.             “You didn’t think we didn’t come prepared?” Eros stepped around the bodies still inanimate. He touched Marcus’s shoulder, tracing a line down his bare skin. The dark giant blinked out of his reverie. “Thank you, Eros,” he looked to the shop owner. “Ramon,” he nodded. “You used me,” Ramon said. “Consider it a strategic manoeuvre,” Eros stepped around the demons lowering their weapons careful not to touch them directly. “Using your power saved me from using mine.” He glanced at Ramon over his shoulder, “You know how draining manipulating time is. I knew you would only be able to do it once and”- “If I used it, y

Everything went utterly still.               The three demons, Marcus and Eros froze midair, a sword in mid-slash from Marcus, a spear careening part way through a glass shelf. All around shards of glass hung like suspended raindrops in the air, shimmering with kinetic energy.             “I warned you,” Ramon lowered his hands.             The three demons were scattered in the shop, mid snarl, mid lung, mid hiss.             Ramon stepped forward towards the demons, towards Marcus. He lifted his hand to Marcus’s temple but before he could touch that smooth dark skin a voice chilled down his spine.               “Marcus was right,” Eros lowered his sword mid strike. “You were one to watch.”             Ramon blinked, once, twice. He lowered his hand, “You’re the Timekeeper.”

“I’m warning you,” Ramon yelled.             “Warn them,” Eros shot back swiping his blade. “They started it.”             Eros and Marcus had fought demons for years, had battled different types, different variations on evil. This fight was not beautiful, far from it, but Eros had seen far worse and trapped within close proximity made it hard to exercise some of his more powerful moves. If anything, it was just another training session where he could let go of those tensions that had built between him and Marcus.             “I said STOP!”             Ramon slammed his hands together and the world froze. 

Eros rotated his blades that grin whispering of a long forgotten pleasure. It had been an age since he’d had any fun, any unsanctioned fun. “Now remember,” he purred. “The friendly shop keeper would like us not to wreck his shop.”             Ramon swore.             One of the demons answered with two plunging fists to the counter, glass erupting in his wake. The jar had been slipped into the pocket of the first demon earlier. Another demon grabbed an ancient blade in the cabinet box swiping it out.             “That’s Atarian bronze,” Ramon yelled. “I’m warning you all, not to mess with my shop. Most of my items are cursed so don’t touch nothing.”             Eros’s smile turned wicked as the two demons moved. He shot his blades through the air. Knives sliced. The demon’s knife went flying.             Marcus and the other demon still fought.             Eros ducked and weaved nearly hitting a cabinet behind him. One demon smacked the cabinet with a satisfying crunch.

Eros opened up his slate grey suit with practiced boredom. Hugging his torso were two engraved Valhalla blades. Identical curved blades that sang through the air as he whirled them with the precision and lithe like a fish through water. The feel of them, solid, hard Valhalla steel shot a euphoric sensation through him. The corners of his mouth tugged up, “It was the worth the trouble of smuggling these after all,” his accent inflected slightly from the long forgotten English prep school. He hated London with a passion but oh did it feel good to be home. 

A hiss erupted from the demon as it snapped out a spear from its jumper, snapping out and lengthening to a silver honed glimmering stick inscribed with dozens of symbols. Eros tilted his head to the side in admiration, “Where can I get one of those?”             “It is the spear of my people,” the demon hissed. “And you have offended them dearly. You must both pay.”             “You mean the demon Oracle,” Eros lifted his hands in surrender. “I had nothing to do with that.” He shrugged and cocked his head toward Marcus. “He did.” “Thank you, Eros,” Marcus said he remained un-moving as he said, “Are you bounty hunters or”-             The demons clicked their tongues, “Beware Guardian, we are marked for a reason.” The first lunged forward and swung the spear too fast to see. A flash of movement, a flicker of color as the two moved, deflecting, piercing. The spear plunged into a glass shelf sending it shattering through the air.             Marcus Ambruge was a dark blur of

Chapter 7 Eros let the anger simmer like quicksilver along his veins. Any moment now he’d have to use his power and do what he always did in times like these. Instead he turned to Marcus, the one in charge.             “Not yet,” the African God answered his unspoken question. Marcus Ambruge opened his suit jacket revealing an armada of weaponry. So he’d been right about Aslow’s pocket. There was no other way he could have concealed all that beneath a tailored suit like that. Marcus Ambruge let out a smile that only a beast could pull off.             Curved blades wrapped around his middle.             A Heathen sword dead center in his chest.             Infinite stars and daggers and other trinkets lined other parts of him.             Marcus Ambruge was an armory of weaponry marking his body.             Eros cocked his head to the side, “I thought you were just happy to see me.” 

Eros felt the flicker of anger, though he could not be sure it had come from him or Candor who still watched on the sidelines. He cocked his head to the side, “A family heirloom,” he shrugged placing his hand in his pocket towards the silver pocket watch. “Been in the family for years, mum was a Banshee”-             “Liar,” it hissed.             The other two lowered their hoods.             Three marks and two marks. 

Ramon said nothing at first, his mouth dropping, his words incoherent. Beads of sweat dripped along his brow, down the side of his face, he’d turned white and red all at the same time. Ramon looked to Eros then back at the jar, his mouth gaping like a fish.             The other two men pulsed towards the first one forming a triangle.             The demon made no move towards the jar. “Where did you get this?” it hissed again, its forked tongue flicking out.             Eros made a face, but said nothing.             Ramon’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he blinked over the demon’s shoulder to Eros “I didn’t, they did.” There were more words waiting on his tongue that he didn’t say.               Following that gaze, the man lowered his hood revealing tattoos marked along his face in angry lines, five marks in total.  One for every Guardian he’d killed.             Its reptilian features shone out, its eyes turning to luminous slits.             

Eros glanced up just as the first man turned back and met his stare.             The other two split off studying the shelves around them, the weapons in the far away cabinets. Eros’s gaze slid to the jar barely wrapped in the fabric on the counter. He’d left it there rather than take it when Ramon had slid it towards him. The fabric covered the jar, hiding the power swirling from within.             Eros placed the fashion magazine down with a practiced grace. He stepped forward to the counter, his attention to the clocks along the walls, his hand moved swift as he stepped away once more and shrugged. “Thought it was a fake.”             The man shot him a cutting glance. Eros responded with an innocent smile. “Come here often?”             The man did not reply as he turned his gaze to the counter once more where the jar sat, its glittering colours in full view. It pulsed from red to purple and blue.             Just as the man’s hand reached towards it, Ramon entered on