Every so often here at The Luckiest, I post pieces of fiction I’m working in my rare spare time. Lately I’ve been going mad, wanting to write fiction again but in particular wanting to work on a project I’ve had in my back pocket for years now.
The Guardians, a multi-book fantasy series I’ve had planned and plotted since NaNoWriMo 2008, is a tale of religious history, modern warfare, magic, and the lengths people will go to find their home in this world (or another). Our main characters (the “Guardians”), Ryan McGill and Dana Fallon, work with the Leos Synod, a mysterious group with a mission from the most ancient Catholic Church, vampires, witches, saints, nuns, and computer geniuses. Ryan is a vague fae of great passion and many hidden (even from herself) talents. Dana is a network administrator from Dublin. This excerpt finds them in Tehran, having just taken prisoner a street vender names Al-Am, who Ryan believes is the religious being The Hidden Imam.
As always, a short authors note: All religious information/mythos is based on web research; I’ve never been to Tehran and only know what I’ve read about Islam, Iran, and Tehran, so if I’m incorrect or too embellished on anything in particular, please feel free to point it out. I’m the only editor that’s touched The Guardians thus far, and so all mistakes are my own.
Ryan McGill lie back and let the heavily scented smoke waft past her nose. She exhaled. Her suite at one of the only “Western allowed” hotels in Tehran was simply decorated but warmly lit and just perfectly spacious. She’d ordered a hookah not long after dinner to help herself relax.
Normally, Ryan loved the bit of her work that allowed her to move around the world. Her partner Dana stayed at the Hill to keep the House as his grandfather had done, and Ryan sought Tara Ciar’s followers wherever they may be hiding. It was risky to have Dana accompany her, any time away from the Hill was worrisome to all of those involved with the Leos Synod – the governing body of their race – but even the absolutely impossible Ameryth had agreed: Ryan could not get into Tehran without a man. Other than Dana, there was only one man involved with the Synod, and the pale, quiet Japanese vampire blanched at the idea of leaving his well worn London flat. Ryan rolled her eyes at the thought, sitting up straighter on her bed and taking another long drag of the hookah. The Synod had been protecting the world on orders from a higher power than St. Patrick himself for generations, and yet they were some of the most selfish, lazy people she had ever known.
Putting them from her mind, and ignoring the phone ringing yet again (no doubt Dana hoping she’d translate their prisoner, who refused to speak to Dana in English, though she knew he spoke the language beautifully). She took another long pull from the pipe of the hookah and let the rose flavored tobacco flow smoothly through her senses.
Tehran had been the first place she’d begun to realize her place in the world. Coming back after three years, it felt more like home than even her native New York. The scents, the feel of the air, the sounds of the streets – they all moved through her as she sit back and let her eyelids fall in contentment. She dreamed of blue eyes, shaggy hair, crisp suits, and long drives through the desert.
The coal on the hookah burned lower as she nodded off and finally turned to black.