The Guardians of Eternity Book 1: Rogar of Hamun
Eve slipped the cable bill into the mail slot and let the door whack shut.
The loud, clacky slam made her smile. "I'm not cooking tonight. What else is new, I know. I have two files of tests to correct. So while I'm securing general supplies for the house, pick out a meal for you and your brother. Remember the rule."
"Yes, Mom. ‘Something nutritious,'" her daughter said in monotone. "When is Dad bringing Brian home?"
A familiar gray Altima sprayed with dirt and salt pulled into a front parking spot.
"Now, I guess. What impeccable timing," Eve murmured.
A feeling of foreboding crept through her. How did Major Disaster know to be at this particular grocery store this very moment? "Jenna, go inside and pick perfect apples and grapes."
"I want to see Dad, Mom."
Hmm. Of course she did. Eve grumbled under her breath and accepted her only choice-wait to see what drama Brock would start while their children watched. He and his obsessive personality hadn't been holding together well lately.
Eve's fifteen-year-old son slunk out the passenger door and jammed his fists in his pants pockets. His cute face was drawn. He looked like he'd been crying.
Parental concern surged through Eve.
Her alluring but insane ex-husband Brock Balmore closed the driver's door and stared over the roof of the car at her. There was almost a sweet desperation in his dark blue eyes, even though his expression was pinched and angry.
Apprehensive, Eve pushed the cart toward the door, forcing her daughter closer to the entrance. Maybe Brock would make the rare mistake of getting physical and she'd get to punch him in the jaw as she had the last time he tried that.
Hands in his jacket pockets, Brock approached and stopped in the fire lane. "You lied about that guy. Brian says you talked to him for nearly an hour on the phone last night."
Eve grumbled under her breath. "This is like a flashback of sixth grade when Tom Chesnick carried my books home from school. Could we at least have this useless conversation in private so the whole population of this little town can't hear you rave?"
The wind tousled Brock's shoulder-length, mud brown hair. "No matter what stupid things I've said to you in the past, I love you, Eve. Can't we try again?"
Two shoppers stared as they wheeled their carts into the parking lot.
Eve cast a glance at her children. If only Brock lived in the same sensible reality everyone else did. "I've had a long day at the college and the kids need dinner."
Brock took a step with Eve. "What about that guy?"
Eve's patience snapped. "I'm incredibly tired of this moldy-oldie, senseless discourse. Pardon me, I have to shop." She moved to pass him.
"Tell me the truth, Eve. Are you seeing him?"
A mother and her teenage daughter rolled their cart out the door, staring. Eve flushed with humiliation. "You know, Brock, just because you have no dignity doesn't mean I don't want to live with some," she growled. She wouldn't defend her phone conversation with a colleague about a geology expedition to the Appalachians.
Eve waved her son over and pushed the cart and Jenna onto the automatic door pad. "I have to shop now."
"Eve, I won't let you go."
Eve tightened her fist on the cart handle, but ignored him. All they did lately was argue.
Jenna gasped.
"No, Dad!" Brian yelled.
A shopper screamed, but the sound was drowned out.
BANG! BANG!
Pain exploded in Eve's chest. She staggered backward into the storefront windows. Bouncing off them, she fell to the concrete.
Oh my god. The pressure was so intense she couldn't take a breath. Each inhale stopped before it filled her lungs. That reckless fool! Idiot!
"Mom!" Jenna's tears dripped on Eve's face. "Mom? Mom?"
"I'm sorry, Mom. He kept asking and asking about the guy," Brian cried. "It's my fault, Mom. I'm sorry."
Their desperate words set reality in her head. "Listen to me, you two." Her next draw of air bubbled deep inside. "You'll inherit assets. Keep them where they are; they'll grow. You'll both inherit trust funds, too. They're not a lot, but th...they'll...help you get through college." Eve struggled not to panic as liquid rushed up her throat. "My brother will take care of you now. He knows what to do. I made sure."
She swallowed her anxiety so she wouldn't scare the kids even more than they already were.
Letting go of life tested her self-control. This was all she knew...
All she...
Her consciousness wavered. Sounds echoed. Time seemed to move slower and slower.
And there were so many loud noises. Sirens. Two-way radios. Her kids crying. The buzz of urgent voices all around.
Eve's eyesight failed.
Fine time to die and abandon two young children.
She crawled her fingers up her son's leg until she reached a handful of his jacket. "Brian, it's not your fault," she wheezed. "He's messed up. Always has been."
"Mom," Jenna whined piteously.
Can't breathe.
Ah God, can't breathe...
Eve weakly felt for Jenna's hand. "You'll be all right," she rasped. "Don't waste time mourning, either. We'll see each other soon enough in the afterlife. You know how certain I am on that. You know, tell me."
"Mom, don't die. Don't die."
"I'm sorry..." The erratic beat of her heart boomed in her ears.
Stupid-ass Brock.
Stupid-ass her for not running away from the handsome emotional wreck when they'd argued on their very first date years ago. But there was just something about Brock that Eve couldn't do without.
A connection inside her broke with a jarring snap. The pain and fear faded away. A bodiless sensation crept through her.
Ahhhhh. Like waking up from a stressful dream, Eve welcomed the great sense of relief.
New noises and smells and sensations began to overpower the frantic voices and sirens.
She stood up. Her body still lay there on the concrete, green eyes staring sightlessly toward the sky. Blood splattered and pooled everywhere.
How bizarre. Without her soul in it anymore, her body looked like an empty skin suit sprawled carelessly; the day's dirty outfit.
The children crying were another matter. But they'd be okay. They'd meet again when their time came to leave their bodies.
The drama of her life that had just ended contrasted with the airy thrum of energy of this new place. The lush fantasy setting seemed more real than the earthly death scene it closed around.
Eve stared longingly at the woodland beyond the green mossy grass.
Freedom.
Out of habit, she tried to breathe, but her lungs didn't work. Shocked, she pressed her hand to her chest. She didn't have a beating heart, either.
Yet she was...alive. Just as she'd always known.
The air had a vibration, almost a delicate tune, and she was part of its lifeforce.
Eve snickered. The people who thought she was a dreamer to believe the soul lived on after bodily death were in for a big surprise when they died.
But where was she? Upon expiring, she just appeared in some unknown realm, like being lost in a strange city? Did she belong here?
A group of young people slowed on the nearby stone path. They cast smiles her way. One waved shyly before they resumed their moving huddle, reading from one small book.
All seven of them looked alike, with long, carefully styled ebony hair, pale, bluish skin, and big navy blue eyes. They weren't clones; rather, they shared a strong resemblance, like a beautiful family line.
"Hi, Rogar. I'm so pleased to see you back with us."
Rogar? Eve cast a sideways glance over-down-at the small beauty who lagged behind her group. She knew this lady. Right? A sense of familiarity grew stronger and stronger. And that name...
"Rogar, it's true. You've stepped into Mortal Heaven," the lady said reassuringly. "You immerse yourself so passionately into your mortal lives that you're always disoriented when you return home."
Long-hidden memories flooded Eve's mind. She wasn't Eve Balmore. Eve Balmore had been the human costume, the corporeal persona she had been born into and worn for forty years on Earth.
So now that she'd awakened from the dream of corporeal life, who was she?
Eve's secret longings surged through her. She spread her hands. They were large, manly. She clenched her fingers. And strong. They changed from pale ivory to a wonderful burnished red-brown. She spread them again. At the tips of her fingers, nails elongated and transformed into thick, sharp ebony claws.
She swelled with elation. Oh, could it be true...
She patted her cheeks. Below her eyes, her face curved out significantly. Her jaw was as long, matching the exotic contour.
A thrill coursed through her body, her big body. She speared her clawed fingers through her hair. It was now much thicker, and springy like a mane.
She looked down. The ground was twice as far away as it used to be. No wonder the people here seemed so small. She was big.
Knee-high boots covered the large feet and calves of a very thickset man. Black pants formed over solid, muscular thighs. A huge chest was half covered by a black vest that peeked out from the plated, embroidered velvet longcoat that hemmed at the ankles.
Oh, yes. Yes! Glory to Eternity, yes!
He wasn't a woman. Oh, how that explained so much about that life just ended.
"At last!" he boomed in his deep, rumbled voice. Power shivered through him.
The beauty beside him giggled. With disturbing affection.
Rogar stepped back. He recalled all too well how he'd gotten here; ties to other souls always caused disaster.
Sorrow pinched her pretty face. "Oh, Rogar. It's always this way. You run off the moment you orient."
And he had to stay because...why?
"You don't..." The lady smiled wistfully. "I hope you have a pleasant adventure in the wood of Forfax Gael. I'll miss you."
The instinct to go grew stronger. No time to delay. Rogar mumbled, "Forgive me."
He bolted for the countryside, but the melodious voice he'd hoped to avoid rang out.
He halted in his tracks. Grrr.
"To me you have returned, Rogar of Hamun. Were you leaving without telling me you had come home?"
Damn. He really needed to orient faster after a mortal life ended....
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