I Am an Invisible Stalker (Guardians #2)

Chapter 6

Eliza's POV

With my hands clasped behind my back, I peer at the gray clouds veiling the sky. Although rain during a funeral is nothing but a nuisance to humans, I pray that the sky is sad enough to unleash its tears. Anything to complicate our Guardian job.

"Don't you dare let me down." With one last pointed look at the sky, I turn back to the wrinkle-covered priest, who is boring the gathered humans with his monotonous voice, and the brown coffin he is standing next to.

The whistle of fall wind mixes with the sniffs of the black-clad group of mourners gathered around the grave. The loudest sniffs belong to a man in his early fifties, whose light gray hair makes it easy to misjudge him to be well over sixty. His shoulders are quivering in the rhythm of his unsuppressed tears. He is, after all, the deceased's only son, Grégory LeRoux.

On his right stands his wife, Julie Sierra, and on his left his daughter, Denise. But while Julie has her features drawn in a sad mask, Denise is struggling to suppress a wide yawn. The moment she gives up and lifts her hand to her mouth, I edge a step forward. If none of the humans are willing to, then I'll gladly be the one to smack some sense into the teenage brat. Even if she never knows what hit her, I'll always treasure the sweet memory of having been able to bash her.

Before I can take the second step forward, Xenia's hawk eyes zero in on me. She is standing at the other side of the group of mourners clustered in between us. With a single sharp motion of her chin, she orders me to remain at my assigned spot on the left outer edge.

Because there are only five of us Guardians here, we are spread in a wide protective circle around the humans. Our intent, or so Xenia informed us, is clear. To stop any ghost that tries to come closer.

With an annoyed huff, I take a step back and settle on my previous spot. My retreat earns me an instant nod from Xenia, but while she turns back to the humans between us, I don't miss the occasional peek she throws my way. Her sixth sense is probably tingling with a hunch of what is going on inside my mind. But I don't let it deter me. Let her think whatever she wants.

I'm about to turn back to the boring priest when a loud shout bursts through the silent graveyard. "Incoming!"

I don't even have time to turn my head sideways before a solid metal object hits me on the side of my head, just below my temple. "What the—" I cover the now aching spot with my hand, but look to the ground to see what hit me.

On top of the rotting yellow and brown leaves lies a round golden pocket watch. I bend forward to pick it up, but a long, pale arm beats me to it. The hand wraps around the watch and steals it out of my sight before I can comprehend what is going on. With my hand still pressed against the aching spot, I straighten back up and come face to face with a sheepishly grinning Guardian who is scratching the side of his reddish-brown hair.

"Sorry," the Guardian—Tim—says and stuffs the watch into the pocket of his sweats. "I thought you'd be quick enough to catch it."

Before he can say anything else, I kick him into the middle of his shin. Tim instantly hisses in pain, because even though we Guardians can't be physically hurt, we still feel pain the same way humans do.

"Who are you kidding," I snort. "If you wanted me to catch the watch, you would've first shouted a warning and only then thrown the damn thing."

"Tim!" Xenia shouts from the other side of the group of mourners. She points at the Guardian standing beside me and then at the spot twenty feet away, where he's supposed to be standing. "Get back to your post."

While we are usually supposed to respect and obey our senior Guardians, the rules become blurry when it comes to Guardians who often run into each other. In the instance of us three—Xenia as Julie's Guardian, Tim as Grégory's Guardian, and me as Denise's Guardian—we've met enough times that me and Tim bluntly ignore our senior Guardian and turn back to each other.