Page 2 of Awakened By Her Guardian

“Hello, Sylvaine,” he said when she answered, her musical voice lilting across the line.

“Well, Happy December first to you, Saint. Thank you for returning my call.”

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

He hoped she didn’t want to share bad news. Last year at this time, Angel had gone after witches and warlocks, abducting them and turning them human, dumping them off, magicless, in Mother Nature’s coven’s territory.

“I wanted to let you know that Calista and I are ready to bring Seth to Northernmost,” she said. Calista was the most powerful fairy, and the head of the Tooth Fairies.

“Good,” Saint said. “The Portal is closed for the month, as you know, except for extreme circumstances, so I’m going to send Pixie to open the special portal for you. How many? I’ll create extra wards for concealment.”

“Me, Calista, Seth, and two others for security.”

“Give me an hour to get the wards ready. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. This is the Christmas your brother will be stopped for good, I’m certain.”

“I hope fate is on our side,” Saint said.

The call ended and he rose to his feet, his fingers resting for a moment on the stack of children’s letters. He’d deal with Nightmare later, if he was in fact working in tandem with Angel.

For now, he had wards to create to keep Seth and the others safe from Angel.

His brother was most powerful on Winter Solstice, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous today.

Saint had reached his limit with his brother. He’d killed too many in the name of taking over the Well of Magic and trying to murder Saint. He could not be allowed to succeed.

Which was where Seth came in.

One way or another, this would be the last Christmas Saint and Angel clashed.

He just hoped fate was on his side, since Christmas and the good magic of the world depended on it.

Dream walker Ana, cloaked in powerful slumber magic that made her invisible to everyone but other dream walkers, moved along the sidewalk in a subdivision outside the human city of Baton Rouge. She slowed her stride as she saw the dreams in one home, coming to a stop in front of the cozy ranch. Good dreams appeared in the air like golden, glittering swooshes. Bad dreams were dark brown and black.

Nightmares?

Those oozed purple and looked rotten.

Nightmares were no fun for the people having them, and they were difficult for dream walkers to defuse. Most dream walkers used their slumber magic to combat nightmares, which differed from bad dreams in tone and intensity. They’d use good dreams as a shield to keep the nightmares at bay, which messed with Nightmare, the god of nightmares, and his dark dream walkers and their magical replenishment.

Dream walkers – good and evil – replenished their magic through the emotions of the dreams they cast. Good magic was replenished with peace and joy and contentment. Evil by fear and torment.

Her slumber magic was different, though. It was more akin to Sandman’s, the most powerful of the good dream walkers. She didn’t just shield people from nightmares and bad dreams; she eradicated them and essentially stole power from Nightmare and his evil followers.

She was the only one in her family with a different kind of slumber magic than the norm. Lifting her hands, she drew her slumber magic outward and pushed it toward the sleepers in the home – two young children and an older woman. As their peace and joy flowed back to her in the form of magical replenishment, she continued on to the next home.

A chill crept over her, and she shivered despite the muggy Louisiana night. Her gaze moved down the street, and she watched as the good dreams she’d cast for the humans slowly morphed into nightmares.

She felt him before she saw him.

Nightmare.

He stepped out of the shadows of his dread magic like a thought she’d unintentionally summoned. Tall, flawless, and dressed all in black, with a face full of sharp angles and high cheekbones. Deep violet eyes matched the rotted purple of his magic. He looked like the kind of temptation a girl might indulge after a few drinks and encouragement from her girl squad, but he felt like the sort of mistake made only one time because it led to utter ruin.

She crossed her arms. Why were the good-looking ones always psychotic?

“Hello, Ana,” he said, a seductive drawl to his voice.