Your Guardian Angel

By: Skyla Madi

In the Beginning

When I think of death, I picture a warm light embracing me in my sleep at a very old age. When I experienced death, it was completely different…

The hot red flames that exuded from the fireplace had a calming effect on my nerves. It was winter; through the frosted window in the lounge room I could see the thick blanket of snow that covered the ground outside. The cool air blew under the front door, cooling my skin after the burning heat warmed it.

“Did you pass your math test?” Mum asked.

“Barely…” I mumbled, inching towards the fireplace, attempting to absorb more of its heat.

“What happened?”

I opened my mouth to explain but three loud bangs thundered on the front door and my words were caught in my throat as Hank, my stepdad, burst through the door and zipped over to us.

“Run, Ruby!” She shrieked in pain as he grabbed my mother by her hair.

A cold sweat ran down my forehead, it wasn’t sweat from the heat of the fire but sweat from the anxiety that grew in my chest. My heart pounded like a drum and I flicked my eyes, searching for possible exits. The door seemed like the only logical exit. I tried to run for it, but my legs didn’t work. All I got was a twitch in my calf muscle. I was frozen, staring at Hank's new appearance. The usual cheerful smile that played upon his face was contorted into an evil grin. His face was void of any warmth, any life. His usually tan skin was a deathly pale color and I could see veins run and pulsate underneath his translucent skin.

“You never have listened to your mother,” said Hank.

His long fangs stuck out from beneath his smirk. It was the creepiest thing I had ever seen, until I met his eyes.

Look away, I urged myself, but I couldn't; they were too alluring, too black. They had an almost devious gleam to them, as though he knew something I didn't.

“What do you want, Hank? I’ll give you anything, just let Ruby leave,” Mum begged.

“Oh, Meredith…” Hank chuckled. "You know what I’m here for; you knew the moment I kicked down the door."

When I was sixteen, Mum explained to me that a newborn vampire needs to feed off a 'pure’ being. In our world, that meant either a guardian angel or a god/goddess. If a vampire feeds off one of these 'pure' creatures, he receives a more human-like appearance. This allows them to walk with humans at night without being too noticeable. If an already normal-looking vampire feeds off a 'pure' being, he becomes stronger. If Hank drained my mother right now, all the creepy new changes he had would disappear. I couldn't let that happen. I lunged forward in an attempt to save her, but before I could even move an inch, Hank grabbed me by my throat with his free hand. I kicked rapidly when I could no longer feel the ground. I tried to scream but the tight grip around my throat made it harder for me to breathe. I’d read about vampires and how strong they were, but I had no idea. I also read about their insane bloodlust and how they would kill anyone to satisfy it, family or not. They’re pure evil.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mum extend her hand towards the fire. It seemed a failed attempt on my part was all she needed to conjure a fireball from the fireplace.

My mother was an elemental goddess; she could control and manipulate the four elements of nature. I inherited those abilities, but given the fact that I go to a human school, I haven't learnt how to use them yet.

A ball of fire flew out of the fireplace, not stopping until it came in contact with Hank’s face. He grunted in pain as the ball of flames connected with his skin.

Suddenly, the cold surface of the wooden floor rose to meet me, connecting solidly with my body as he dropped me. I sat, forcing as much air into my lungs as I could. A warm hand took my arm and I stumbled slightly as I was abruptly pulled to my feet. I forced my legs to move one after the other towards the door. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, I probably wouldn’t have budged. We made it as far as the front door and I dove for the handle, but my face hit a wall; no, my face hit a cold, dead, hard body.

“Too slow.” Hank chuckled, blocking our exit.

I grunted in pain as he backhanded me to the floor and slammed a foot down onto my head, pinning me to the ground. The pressure was intense; any harder and my head would no doubt be crushed. I strained my eyes to see out of my peripheral vision. He had my mother by the hair again; I could see her as she fought against him. She extended her hand, once again, towards the fire.

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