throat. He required a distraction.
“You said before that your grandfather raised you,” he said, thinking perhaps conversation would help. “Why did your parents not do so?”
“Grandparents. Both my grandfather and grandmother.” She shrugged and began to squeeze pigments onto an oval palette. “My parents weren’t in the picture. I never knew my father. He was just a guy my mom fooled around with, and she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself, let alone of me. She had a drug problem. Leaving me with her parents was probably the best thing she could have done.”
Her tone held no bitterness, which surprised Spar. He had always believed that humans harbored intense feelings of attachment to their parents.
“Grandma and Papa were amazing. They raised me without a question. I belonged to them, and as far as I was concerned they belonged to me right back. I had the best childhood I could have asked for.”
“Did your grandfather teach you to paint?”
Her mouth curved in a smile. “Among other things. He taught me to paint, how to run a business, how to fix cars, anything with a motor really. The summer before my sixteenth birthday, he brought the Tiger home from a junkyard for me. We spent four months rebuilding it so he could teach me to ride in time to get my driver’s license.”
Her voice glowed with affection. Spar found himself envying her grandfather for holding so much of her heart.
“And Grandma taught me how to cook, cheat at cards, and swear in Lithuanian.”
“Lithuanian?” Spar shook his head. “I had wondered at the words you use. I speak Russian, and I did not understand why you made no sense to me.”
Felicity smiled as she feathered dark paint onto the blank canvas. “Lithuanian. Both Grandma and Papa were born in Canada, but their parents all emigrated from there back in the 1920s.”
“Your grandparents sound like fine people.”
“They were.” She dropped her brush in a jar half filled with solution and reached for another. “What about your family? Do Guardians have families?”
She cast him a brief glance, but her attention was focused on her painting. Already the tension in her shoulders had eased, and Spar realized how much her art soothed her. He would be sure to bring her here regularly until the danger passed. The outlet would help her cope with the situation into which she had been thrust.
“The other Guardians are my brothers,” he told her, pleased that she wanted to know more about him. “I have no mother or father because we are not born, but summoned.”
“What does that mean?”
“I was never born, never a child. I was summoned into this realm as I am now.”
“Summoned by the Guild, right?”
He hummed a yes. “Indeed. Each of us was called when the need was great, so we had to be ready to go immediately into battle.”
“I suppose that’s why you carry that ginormous spear, huh?”
“It is a useful weapon, though not all of us use weapons. Our teeth and claws do damage enough to vanquish many foes.”
Felicity made a face. “Yeah, nice image.” She layered more color on the canvas according to some pattern Spar could not determine. “So, when were you all summoned that first time? I mean, exactly how old are you guys?”
“The first summoning took place more than seven thousand years ago, according to human reckoning.”
Her head snapped around and she stared at him, mouth agape, until he realized her thoughts and smiled. “I, however am not quite so ancient. None of my brethren has lived all those years unbroken. Three have lived since before the birth of your Christ, and they stand as the most ancient among us. Four of us were summoned later at different times in order to replace those who fell in battle.”
Felicity’s brows drew together, and her expression turned serious as she looked back at her painting. “You can be killed in ways other than just destroying your statues, then.”
Did she ask because she feared him
“You said before that your grandfather raised you,” he said, thinking perhaps conversation would help. “Why did your parents not do so?”
“Grandparents. Both my grandfather and grandmother.” She shrugged and began to squeeze pigments onto an oval palette. “My parents weren’t in the picture. I never knew my father. He was just a guy my mom fooled around with, and she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself, let alone of me. She had a drug problem. Leaving me with her parents was probably the best thing she could have done.”
Her tone held no bitterness, which surprised Spar. He had always believed that humans harbored intense feelings of attachment to their parents.
“Grandma and Papa were amazing. They raised me without a question. I belonged to them, and as far as I was concerned they belonged to me right back. I had the best childhood I could have asked for.”
“Did your grandfather teach you to paint?”
Her mouth curved in a smile. “Among other things. He taught me to paint, how to run a business, how to fix cars, anything with a motor really. The summer before my sixteenth birthday, he brought the Tiger home from a junkyard for me. We spent four months rebuilding it so he could teach me to ride in time to get my driver’s license.”
Her voice glowed with affection. Spar found himself envying her grandfather for holding so much of her heart.
“And Grandma taught me how to cook, cheat at cards, and swear in Lithuanian.”
“Lithuanian?” Spar shook his head. “I had wondered at the words you use. I speak Russian, and I did not understand why you made no sense to me.”
Felicity smiled as she feathered dark paint onto the blank canvas. “Lithuanian. Both Grandma and Papa were born in Canada, but their parents all emigrated from there back in the 1920s.”
“Your grandparents sound like fine people.”
“They were.” She dropped her brush in a jar half filled with solution and reached for another. “What about your family? Do Guardians have families?”
She cast him a brief glance, but her attention was focused on her painting. Already the tension in her shoulders had eased, and Spar realized how much her art soothed her. He would be sure to bring her here regularly until the danger passed. The outlet would help her cope with the situation into which she had been thrust.
“The other Guardians are my brothers,” he told her, pleased that she wanted to know more about him. “I have no mother or father because we are not born, but summoned.”
“What does that mean?”
“I was never born, never a child. I was summoned into this realm as I am now.”
“Summoned by the Guild, right?”
He hummed a yes. “Indeed. Each of us was called when the need was great, so we had to be ready to go immediately into battle.”
“I suppose that’s why you carry that ginormous spear, huh?”
“It is a useful weapon, though not all of us use weapons. Our teeth and claws do damage enough to vanquish many foes.”
Felicity made a face. “Yeah, nice image.” She layered more color on the canvas according to some pattern Spar could not determine. “So, when were you all summoned that first time? I mean, exactly how old are you guys?”
“The first summoning took place more than seven thousand years ago, according to human reckoning.”
Her head snapped around and she stared at him, mouth agape, until he realized her thoughts and smiled. “I, however am not quite so ancient. None of my brethren has lived all those years unbroken. Three have lived since before the birth of your Christ, and they stand as the most ancient among us. Four of us were summoned later at different times in order to replace those who fell in battle.”
Felicity’s brows drew together, and her expression turned serious as she looked back at her painting. “You can be killed in ways other than just destroying your statues, then.”
Did she ask because she feared him
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