Guardians (Seers Trilogy) (10 page)

At first I believed it would be possible to keep that future from happening. Simple, almost. For her to have come back, she would need to find access to that specific memory; it was how the special ability worked.

Easy. I would simply refuse to give it to her, if she ever asked for a doorway into my past.

But then I realized my fatal mistake. I’d yelled for Toni to come in, so the memory was not mine alone. She could get access to the deadly moment through Toni just as easily as through me. After further reflection on her words, I realized he probably
was
the one that served as her gateway through time, because in the future she’d mentioned I wasn’t with her.
Why would I not be with her?

Besides, her last fractured words had been about Toni. Perhaps she was trying to tell me he was the one who helped her make the eventual journey back in time. Naturally, I’d sworn Toni to secrecy about the future Kate’s visit, and as far as I knew he hadn’t told a soul. It was paramount that I kept this from Kate.

I’d thought about warning her; if she knew, maybe she wouldn’t make the choice to go back, even when things started falling apart. But somewhere inside of me I knew telling her would only make things worse. It would only give her ideas. If there was one thing I’d learned about Kate, it was that she could become very self-sacrificing when it came to saving the people she loved. If something ever happened to the twins . . . A lone threat from our enemies would be enough to send her searching for a way
—any
way—to save them, regardless of the cost.

I just had to make sure no threat of harm came to the twins. I
would
keep Kate safe, especially from herself. I fully intended to change her destiny, because I couldn’t face losing her.

Despite my deep thoughts, my face was still smooth and I was aware of my surroundings. A rowdy group of teenagers pushed into the bowling alley and I stepped easily to the side to avoid getting in their way. The room was loud, between the crashing of knocked over bowling pins, the cheers and jeers of the players, the pounding music, and the endless banter that filled every available space in between. Even so, my practiced ear picked up the sound of a pain-filled gasp. I turned instinctively toward the sound, craning my neck so I could peer around a tall man’s bulky shoulder.

I saw the girl first. Her cringing face was easy to pick out. She was fairly pretty and quite small, and she was blinking rapidly, as if to force back tears. One arm was stretched out in front of her, captured in the tight grip of a large teenager. He was pulling her toward the doors—nearly dragging her. It was beyond obvious she didn’t wish to go with him, yet she wasn’t putting up much of a struggle. Reluctant footsteps and that thin whimper. That was all. Though his ducked head hid his identity from me, I knew there was something familiar about this guy. I knew him. I just couldn’t recall . . .

They’d reached the doors, a couple feet away from me, and as his elbow pushed into the door to force it open he lifted his head a fraction. My eyes narrowed immediately and my already tensed body prepared to move. It was Micah Grimshaw, the arrogant quarterback from the school’s football team.

In truth, I was surprised our paths hadn’t crossed sooner. Over a month ago—back when I was just beginning to realize I was sick—we’d gotten in a fight. Even as I’d hobbled away after that incident, he promised me that I hadn’t seen the last of him. I hadn’t forgotten about his threat; it just hadn’t been in the forefront of my mind. It wasn’t like I didn’t have other worries to focus on. Still, seeing him here, and now. . .

Just like the last time I’d attacked him, I felt the undeniable urge to pound out my frustrations on him. That was the problem with inner battles—they left you with nothing to physically fight. But if anyone deserved a strong dose of humility, it was him. And this time, there would be no doubt of my winning. I’d been fighting Demons, the worst kind of scum, for two centuries. One arrogant jock wasn’t going to be a problem. I’d just need to keep myself in check. There was no reason to harm him permanently, after all.

He’d already pulled the girl outside. The door was swinging closed. I moved without thought. In the back of my mind I wondered if I was doing the right thing by giving in to this thirst for violence. But I knew this went beyond personal battles. I was a Guardian, and that girl needed my help. There was really nothing to debate. I pushed through the door before it could close completely, my eyes peeled despite the sudden darkness.

I paused on the sidewalk, willing my eyes to adjust. The girl’s whimper and scuffing footsteps directed my gaze. They were walking along the side of the building, moving in the direction of my parked car. That’s when I remembered I was still holding Kate’s purse—that she would come looking for me in the next couple minutes. Would she panic if I wasn’t there?

No. When Kate didn’t see me by the doors, she would be left to assume I was at the car. I didn’t intend to disappoint her, so my movements became quicker. I moved after the girl and ultimately Grimshaw, who had succeeded in almost reaching the end of the building.

Her thin voice carried on the slight breeze, destroying any doubts I may have had about her fear. “I want to go home.”

He grunted something unintelligible, but continued to drag her forward. They reached the corner—she began to whine something and he jerked her painfully around the edge of the bowling alley, which cut off the sound of her complaint. Ducked around the corner, I lost sight of them; I lengthened my stride in the same instant. I was moving at not quite a run, but beyond a fast walk.

I felt my phone vibrate suddenly in my pocket, but I didn’t have time to answer it because I was just rounding the corner of the building. Grimshaw had pushed the girl up against the brick wall, his palms forcing her shoulders to grind against the unyielding barrier. “Just shut up, beautiful,” he growled menacingly, his blond head inclined toward her.

She gasped in pain.

Without thought I let Kate’s purse slip through my fingers, leaving it to sag against the warm cement. The muted thump brought four eyes to me, and my tensed body became even stiffer when Micah’s stare became understanding.

“O’Donnell,” he grunted, his lips curling derisively. His eyes were angry slits, but they didn’t alarm me. I’d faced much worse.

I gestured toward the girl with my chin. “Let go of her.”

Micah’s whole face twisted in a sneer. “Back off. She’s my girl.” His eyes brightened with an arrogant light. “Unless you’re willing to trade, of course.”

The young woman whimpered, her head angled toward me. “Please,” she whispered, hope and pain making her voice crack.

“Shut up!” Grimshaw snapped. He turned to look at her for the briefest moment, and that’s when I moved.

I took the couple necessary steps to stand beside them, one hand already crushing his arm before he saw me in his peripheral vision. He started at my sudden appearance and his grip on the girl loosened—she was no longer being forced harshly against the building. But he didn’t take his hands away from her. Instead he turned his glower on me.

“That’s it,” he rasped, breathing more heavily as hot adrenaline rushed through his body. “You’re dead.”

I smiled grimly at the irony he wouldn’t see in that statement. “Really? I don’t feel very dead.”

He shoved away from the girl and I was forced to release my hold on him so I could steady her. I gripped her elbow until she was firm on her feet, then I let my hand fall and my attention shifted.

The quarterback had taken a couple steps back. He was flexing his fingers into fists, rising up and down on the balls of his feet, preparing for a fight I was all too happy to supply him with. I lowered into a defensive crouch, raising my arms into a ready position. I almost felt bad for him, because he had no way of knowing how much training I’d had in hand-to-hand combat.

He was about to be rudely awakened.

I assumed he would try to tackle me, like he had in our last attempt at a fight. I assumed correctly. I could hear the girl behind me gasp and stagger back a couple steps when Micah lunged for me. It was an impressive show of his bulk, but it was a weak move. I leaned the upper part of my body to the side, caught one of his wrists and slammed my free fist into his unguarded stomach. He groaned and doubled over, which made it easy to finish throwing him over one of my bent legs. He slammed into the pavement, landing heavily on his side.

I didn’t straighten out of my crouch, but I did pivot so I could keep a full gaze on him. I couldn’t see the girl’s expression, but she was standing silent and motionless behind me.

Micah Grimshaw rolled slowly off his side, pushing up from the ground to regard me through smoldering eyes, his back to the wall. He was angrier than before but more cautious too. He realized I knew what I was doing, so he would have to be more calculative with his next attack. “Not bad for a sicko,” he panted. “Did Kate teach you how to stick up for yourself?”

I allowed a small mirthless grin to twist my face, and that silent reply was enough to resume the fight. He didn’t try to tackle me again but instead decided that a calmer, circling approach would be better. He was eyeing my arms with new appreciation, seeing the subtly bulging muscles he’d underestimated before. He still had the advantage of size and brute strength, but it was obvious in his motions that he wondered if they would be a match for my obvious skill.

We paced around each other, and I noticed that in each round he inched a little closer. He was going to try and limit my reaction time. It was a worthy goal but a wasted effort. When his fist flew suddenly toward my left temple, I was able to flinch back and slam one hard arm against his wrist, batting it harmlessly away from me. His other fist moved to smash against the right side of my face, and his knuckles managed to graze my skin before I swatted his blow away.

He was angry now—frustrated that he couldn’t hit me. He lashed out with more agility but less purpose. I continued to dodge and deflect his attacks, until the perfect opportunity to strike him arrived. His face was unguarded, and I made use of that by delivering a solid punch to his cheekbone. His head snapped around from the force of the blow, but the pain only seemed to make him more desperate to hit me.

He got his chance a few seconds later when his leg, which had been rooted to the ground up until this point, suddenly swung into the back of my ankles. I had no idea he knew how to use his feet in a fight, so the unexpected swipe served its purpose beautifully. My arms swung instinctively to help retain my balance, and his fist caught my jaw in a harsh uppercut. My neck strained back from the fierce punch and the girl let out a cry as the quarterback shoved me up against the wall.

By the time my head hit the wall, I was already gripping his arms, trying to pry him off me. He thrust his knee up, catching me in the gut. I grunted grudgingly, then curled one of my arms and sent my elbow into his chest. That propelled him backward, but he was still holding my arm, so I was dragged along with him.

I delivered a few staggering punches, and then I had
him
pinned against the wall, his nose bleeding. We were both breathing heavily, our hot faces mere centimeters apart. I was clutching a fistful of his shirt, bunched up harshly near his throat. He was gripping my wrists, trying to scratch the skin from my bones. He was having little success, though I don’t think he could see the fact that my body was healing itself after every scratch he managed to create.

I kept my eyes wide and my words calm, so he wouldn’t misunderstand. “You are never to harass Kate again. If I see you mistreating
anyone
in the future, you will receive more than a simple warning. Am I clear?”

In answer, he spat in my face. I let the spittle run down my cheek, unwilling to show weakness by brushing it away. I tightened my grip near his throat, making him gasp. Our noses were nearly touching now.

Ironically enough, that’s when Kate found us.

She’d rounded the corner slowly, her face pale and her eyes wary—maybe a little fearful. They widened at what she saw: me forcing Grimshaw up against the wall. Only slightly less alarming would have been the young woman standing off to the side, hugging herself in an effort to stop her steady tears.

“Patrick?” Kate asked, unable to form any more of a question. Her eyes darted between us, trying to make sense of the scene. The way her eyes hovered on the girl made me think she’d seen her before. Maybe from school?

I wasn’t sure how to answer her largely unspoken question, so for the moment I turned my attention back to the football player in my grasp. I lowered my voice, trying to keep the animosity between us. “You should leave,” I said.

He stared at me for a long moment, the blood still dripping from his nose. When he finally spoke, it was a low whisper. “You’ll regret this, O’Donnell. I swear you will.”

I gave one of my tense smiles for an answer before straightening my fingers abruptly and twisting away from him. I reached down to grab Kate’s purse, and by the time I’d turned back around, Grimshaw was stalking away, moving toward his black jeep.

I watched him until he was inside and the engine roared to life. The lights flashed on, blinding us momentarily. He started forward, peeling out of the parking lot with a reckless jerk of the wheel. His tires screeched past us and the jeep whipped around the corner. The sounds of his mad retreat gradually died, leaving silence to settle around us.

I knew Kate’s eyes were firmly on my face, but I chose to look instead at the other young woman, who was looking at me with a small degree of awe.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She nodded, slowly at first and then more rapidly. “Yes. Thank you, for . . . that. I’d heard stories from other girls at school, but . . . I thought they were just stories.” She was almost blushing, and a quick flick of my eyes showed that Kate was watching the girl’s aura. The girl continued to talk quickly, almost babble, really. “He was a little too touchy at dinner, and then when I asked to go home, he took me here. He convinced me it would be fun. After the game, he wanted to take me to his house, but I knew I didn’t want that. I went in the bathroom to call my brother.” Her eyes flitted to Kate. “He told me to wait in there, that he’d call me when he got here, but I felt rude just leaving Micah out there. I told him I’d called my brother, and he dragged me outside. I didn’t want to make a scene inside, but—”