.                            GRACE CHRONICLES: THE SLEEPERS

The presence of two refined gentlemen dressed in suit and tie, walking through one of the most luxurious hotels in Illinois was no extraordinary sight. Their meeting, however, was far from ordinary.

No one batted an eye when they both positioned opposite each other inside the hotel's restaurant, surrounded by elaborate interior of polished hard wood. Above was an extravagant chandelier that lit the room soft yellow, matching the mood of the soft piano music playing in the background.

Wine was poured but not touched. No one came forward to take their order.

"Have you made your decision?" asked the first man, utterly comfortable to be there.

His companion, on the other hand, was in an unfamiliar environment. He showed it by sweeping his suspicious blue eyes over each individual in the room, most bent over their phones or tablets. The soft business chatters nearly overpowered the piano. He zoned in on every conversation and gulped. Nothing suspicious, he thought, as he veered his eyes back to the dark-haired man very familiar to him.

He knew he should not be here, more so in the company of a Stronghold.

He answered the man's question with a nod, his silver hair almost yellow from the chandelier.

"Good," Ivor Stronghold said, taking out his phone from his breast pocket. Screen up, he laid it on the table and pushed it toward the other man. The screen was entirely turned off. "If you would so please drop a tiny grace."

The man hesitated. He zoned in on every person in the room again, moistening his lips. The woman behind him was talking about her real estate offers; the man to his right was pulling out his stocks from the market—not a good idea; the waiter was warning another not to go near Mr. Stronghold's table, the wine was enough. In short, everything seemed safe.

Ivor Stronghold's amber eyes glinted with impatience. "We do not have the time for second thoughts, nanny."

The man scowled at Ivor across the table. "Should I remind you, fora," he gritted out, speaking for the first time with disgust in his voice, "that I am directly under—"

"The archangels, yes," said Ivor with a sneer. "Don't worry. None of them are tuning in on us as we speak." He allowed a short silence before he continued, "The envoys of the third sphere are not aware that you are in the presence of a Stronghold. If they did, you would not be here." He leaned away from the table and crossed his leg over the other. "And I am pretty sure they will not mind losing one guardian angel. Am I not right, nanny? How many are there of your kind again?" He looked up, one eye squinting to mockingly think of an answer. "Thousands? Ah, no, probably millions." His hand pushed the phone further toward the Guardian. "You are replaceable, my dear friend." And in a graceful swift motion, his hand revealed a cylinder glass container the size of a bullet. "But this will give you an advantage."

The Guardian's blue eyes glinted at the sight of the cylinder. Angels called them shells, a rare but powerful weapon. It was not the cylinder he needed. It was what it could contain. His jaw tightened and his hand paled even more as he closed it into a fist.

"A drop of grace will seal our agreement. You will never have to see me again after tonight."

He was committing a grave offense simply by being here, but the Guardian had his own reasons why. Many of his kind had done the same thing in the past and most of them were still in the sphere.

Before conscience and fear could seep in, he relaxed his hand and placed one finger over the black screen.

He had heard stories. Any angels gracing a contract with a Stronghold would never get the chance to see it before or even after the act. They simply had to trust a Stronghold's word.

The Guardian watched as a white circle slowly moved outward from his finger and crawled to each corner of the screen until it was fully lit in white.

Ivor Stronghold smiled and reached for the phone. "Nice doing business with you, Azra," he said, pocketing the phone. The Guardian's jaw tightened at the mention of his name. "I assume you want the blood to be drawn before your eyes?"

Azra nodded, his ears listening on every conversation around him once again. He was safe. No suspicious language or alarming words.

He watched as Ivor Stronghold turned the small cylinder between the two fingers of his right hand. He positioned the top end of the glass over one finger of his left hand and immediately thereafter, a soft snap was heard. Ivor did not flinch as the needle pricked his skin and a drop of scarlet liquid trickled agonizingly slow down the glass cylinder.

Ivor pulled the cylinder away from his finger with a menacing smile. Azra scowled as the shell rolled across the table, the sound distinct. "That's not enough."

"You are obviously new to this," Ivor said. "A drop of a Stronghold's blood is enough to kill up to the first sphere." His eyes narrowed at the Guardian, the corner of his lips lifting into a mocking smile. "But surely you are not planning to touch one of the royals. A seraph will turn you into dust without batting an eye even before your weapon reaches it. I cannot recommend the second sphere either, given your status and capabilities. What I suggest, though, is that you utilize this inside your sphere. As a nanny, you have a high chance of killing a fellow angel of the same class."

Azra's jaw tightened. He was not planning on using it on any angel.

As though hearing his thoughts, Ivor nodded and sighed. "Then you are planning to trade it with a Sleeper. They all do, after all." Ivor stood up and righted his suit. He looked down at the angel with a smile. "Tonight. Seven sharp. Is your ward ready?"

"He is always ready."

*****

Driving down the quiet road in the middle of the night should be calming, but the man behind the wheels was itching.

He had to kill.

He drove by a large cabin. Should he?

Azra, sitting behind him in the passenger seat, invisible ever since the human was born, sighed and whispered, "No. The neighbors will hear."

His ward shivered and groaned, hearing reason.

He stepped on the gas. He had to find one fast.

Twenty-five. Two more. Two more...

Azra turned his silver head to look out the window. "Up there. A lone cabin," he said, loudly this time.

His ward moistened his lips as he zoned in on his target. He could see the isolated light through the tall pine trees.

Now.

Twenty-five.

Kill.

Now.

Twenty-five.

Two more.

*****

"What are you doing here?" the female Guardian demanded as the human walked past her. "There was no report of our wards crossing over tonight."

Her male companion appeared beside her. "From which district are you?"

"California," Azra wryly replied, watching his ward struggle with the door. "There's a spare key in that pot," he said to his human who straightened and turned to the left, finding the pot.

From inside the cabin, the television was on. Two humans were awake.

"Did you know of this?" the female Guardian asked her companion.

"No," he shook his head. "They're not dying tonight. They still have a few years."

The human was finally able to open the door. The female Guardian scowled. "He's been on a spree since California."

"This should be his twenty-fifth," Azra informed them.

The female shook his head. "No. My ward is not dying tonight."

"Well, she is," Azra snapped impatiently.

She frowned at him suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Like you, I'm but a mere nanny."

"Warn your ward," the female Guardian ordered her companion, but by then they both realized they could not move. Something was wrong. Something was keeping them from saving their wards. She looked around. There was nothing but the silhouette of the trees and the mountains. She scowled at Azra. "Who are you with?"

"None but my human," Azra said with a shrug.

"I sense a fora." The female Guardian demanded once again. "Who are you?"

There was no way in heaven these nannies would ever know his name. If things went right tonight, he would never meet them again. Azra stopped as he began to sense something. "There are three people here, but there are only two of you."

The two Guardians looked at each other.

Finally, it dawned on him. Of course. What else could interest Ivor Stronghold?

"You're raising a Sleeper," he murmured.

*****

Ivor Stronghold waited outside the small cabin house in the quiet of his car, hidden from view by the trees.

The driver was outside, dressed in black suit, hands clasped in front of him in an alert stance.

The red-haired five-year-old girl beside him asked in a small voice, "Is it over yet, Ivor?"

"Not yet," Ivor replied. "Turn your music up, darling."

She looked up at him and tapped her headphone with her little finger. "I can still hear the screams, you know."

With a sigh, Ivor tapped on the window. The driver turned to him from outside and shook his head.

From a distance, Ivor saw Azra standing outside the cabin. With him were two more Guardians looking rather angry and confused, rendered motionless as their wards were being murdered. Then, as if someone snapped a finger, the two angry nannies disappeared, snatched by an invisible powerful force, rustling the potted plants by the doorway.

Erin sighed beside him. "It's done," she murmured under her breath.

The driver opened the passenger door. "They're gone."

Ivor turned to Erin and ruffled the child's thick curly hair. "Good job, Erin."

The girl smiled and asked. "Now, can we go home?"

"In a little while." He climbed out of the car. "Do you want to meet your new brother?"

Erin nodded excitedly. She took Ivor's hand and jumped out of the car.

Both of them walked out of the shadows of the woods and toward the well-lit cabin.

Erin tightened her grip around Ivor's hand. "Oh, the man is going to kill him next."

Ivor smiled. "We cannot let him now, can we?"

Erin shook her head. She closed her eyes, took a long breath and slowly let it out.

Azra was still outside, waiting as they approached. His eyes were glued on Erin who was in a pink floral dress, a pair of white ballet shoes and leggings.

"Granddaughter of Eris," the Guardian said, his voice laced with fear. His quaking eyes traveling to Ivor. "You brought the granddaughter of the goddess of—"

"I thought your ward would need a little help of chaos," he said, bending his head toward Erin. "Greet our friend good evening, Erin."

Erin smiled at the Guardian. "Good evening. Will you please tell your ward he cannot kill my new brother?"

Azra swallowed. Ivor raised his brows expectantly. "A deal is a deal, nanny."

In a swift motion, the Guardian disappeared into the cabin.

Ivor and Erin followed.

Inside, a trail of blood led to the kitchen from the living room where the television was still on. A man's leg was peeking through the edge of the wooden countertop. Up the stairs was another trail that stopped just before the second landing where a woman's body lay limp and lifeless. Two Guardians failed tonight and they would probably want answers. It would not be soon before a flock would come not to investigate two untimely deaths, but for something else.

Another life was inside the cabin. And it had no Guardian of its own.

They walked past the black-haired woman covered in blood on the stairs. Erin bent down to close the woman's eyes. Straightening to full height, she easily and lightly jumped over the woman's arm through her ballet shoes, skipping two steps before gracefully landing on the top of the stairs. She and Ivor faced the door at the end of the corridor.

The door was slightly ajar. Inside, the room was dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the windows.

The growling of the human's internal struggle could be heard over the sound of a little boy's whimpers of fear.

"He wants to kill him real bad," Erin whispered.

"I know, darling," said Ivor as they waited outside the door.

"I am not doing anything, but he still wants to cause him pain."

"It's not your doing, Erin. It's just his nature," Ivor reassured.

"We have to go," the Guardian's voice echoed from inside the room.

More groan from the killer.

"No witnesses."

"Twenty-five, remember?" the Guardian echoed again.

"But no witnesses!"

"Then it won't be twenty-five...."

Erin sighed. "I hate serial killers the most."

Ivor nodded in agreement. "Obsessive-compulsive ones in particular."

The Guardian slipped through the door. "He's not listening," he told Ivor.

"I can do five more. Thirty. I'll go thirty," the man inside the room said as he started to move again.

Erin squeezed Ivor's hand tightly, keeping herself calm. Otherwise, the human would snap and she would not have a brother.

"Well, we cannot help it. The world will be a better place without him." Azra made no comment. "And it is best for you as well, nanny."

Ivor let go of Erin's hand and walked past the Guardian and entered the room. Erin looked up at the Guardian with a smile. "When he dies, you will get a new ward."

"Yes," Azra replied, growing uncomfortable by each second.

"What do you want this time?" she asked as the man inside the room gasped for air, whimpering in pain.

"A future president," Azra replied as the heavy thud echoed down the corridor. A body had dropped on the floor.

Erin smiled at the Guardian. "Goodbye."

The fear in the Azra's eyes was still there as he disappeared. His departure was followed by a swift gush of wind, flapping Erin's dress as she stood alone in the corridor.

From where she was standing, she could hear Ivor's soft, soothing whispers. She smiled excitedly as she heard two pairs of footsteps coming near. One was Ivor's, the other was light and hesitant.

When he reappeared, Ivor was holding another small hand. The boy was no longer crying, but his eyes were swollen as they met her amber ones.

"Hello," Erin greeted.