Guardians (Seers Trilogy) (3 page)

Across the room, far behind me, Selena Avalos was speaking too loudly. “I just don’t see the point,” she was saying, her voice approaching a whine. “Why do we just stand here? Kate Bennett needs to die. After her insult to us, she doesn’t deserve to live. There are more of us united than any of the Guardians realize; we would meet little resistance, even with their dramatic show of guarding her. Far Darrig alone would be able to penetrate their feeble defenses.”

I was relieved once again that Avalos was too intimidated by me to address me personally—that held true for most everyone who served the Demon Lord. I preferred things that way; I wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

One of the Dmitriev brothers grunted, appreciating her words. Without turning, I would have to guess it was Viktor—he was the more aggressive of the two.

Takao Kiyota spoke, his voice thin and dangerous. It matched his appearance and personality perfectly. “You Demons are too impulsive. We must stop and think.”

Exactly
, I agreed internally.

“What good is she to us, anyway?” Mei Li muttered. “She finished her unique task. Surely we have enough gifted Seers. What is one more?”

“Fine!” Avalos said. “Let
me
take care of her, my lord. It would be my pleasure. You would then be free to focus on distributing the virus to our allies.”

I cast a long look at an insignificant white SUV as it darted through the traffic. I saw it come upon the slowing black car too quickly and knew an accident was imminent. I closed my eyes before impact, wishing the Demon Lord would finally speak and restore order to his ranks; give
me
an order, something to do so I wouldn’t become impatient. Since O’Donnell’s narrow escape last night, I’d been aching to snap his neck. Even better, snap
her
neck and make him watch. He needed to suffer. As I suffered.

Music—Chopin—filled the room. The intricate notes grated on my nerves. I opened my eyes, saw the wreckage on the street below. A tangle of metal, a littering of broken glass. That was all that remained of the colliding cars, all because of impatience. I gritted my teeth and swallowed back my rush of anger.

I needed to be patient. I couldn’t rush my revenge. I couldn’t afford for O’Donnell to escape me again.

Your brother,
the thought flashed through my mind. I easily resisted the urge to wince. No. Not my brother. My enemy.

Yuri’s voice was low, his words slow. “She did what was most required of her. She secured Far Darrig. Anything else she could do for us could be done by another.”

“Far Darrig?” My master’s voice was politely inquiring.

I turned at once, fists tight at my sides.

The white room was occupied by only a handful, the Demon Lord’s inner circle. My master had his back to a window, his questioning eyes on me. Takao was standing nearest to him, with Mei Li still close at hand; both were overprotective bodyguards. Avalos was wearing a green evening gown, though it was still morning, and beside her the Dmitrievs looked all the more weathered and ugly.

They were all watching me, waiting for my answer.

I focused on my master, my mouth barely moving. “We need to be cautious. Revenge is only possible with patience.”

Avalos rolled her eyes, hands moving to rest against her curving hips. “Patience? That’s what you suggest?”

“Now, now.” The Demon Lord smiled at me, though his comments were directed to Avalos. “Far Darrig has a valid point. Of course we have the forces necessary to kill Kate. Despite the Guardians’ efforts, she could be dead before tomorrow if we wished.”

“Well, don’t we want her dead?” Avalos griped.

Yuri spoke. “Master, she’s insulted you by escaping. Your enemies, your more tentative allies . . . they will hear of this. They will think you incapable of handling the Guardians if you can’t manage a single Seer.”

The Demon Lord ignored them, eyes on me. “Far Darrig, do you have a specific plan in mind?”

I shrugged. “Nothing specific. But I know how to stalk prey most effectively, if it’s a point you’re trying to make. This is your opportunity to show the world—Guardians, Demons, and Seers—that you have the upper hand. Let the Guardians think they’re winning and then crush them. Let them bring forth their best efforts to stop you, and then destroy them. Let O’Donnell think he’s keeping her safe, and then strike. Let Kate Bennett think she’s escaped and then end her.”

The Demon Lord nodded leisurely, considering the idea. “We can’t afford to let them go unpunished,” he mused aloud. “Kate must die. But that doesn’t mean we can’t use this situation to our advantage.”

“How?” Avalos asked. She shook her head. “Waiting would be a mistake, I think. Let us attack when they are weakest, before they have time to fully prepare for our—”

“No.” The Demon Lord smiled. “I will use Kate Bennett as an example. We will give the Guardians time to scramble, time to panic. Kate Bennett hasn’t escaped, and her Guardians at least know as much. I have an idea . . . It will keep them entertained. In the meantime, we’ll see what epic plan the Guardians will devise to stop us. This revenge will be sweet, because it will be well earned. Far Darrig?”

I looked up. “Yes, Master?”

“How would you like to oversee O’Donnell’s downfall?”

I felt my eyes sharpen. “I want nothing more.”

I
was standing in
the parking lot of the Illusion Hotel and Casino. I’d been here before, but it hadn’t been like this. Last time, the darkness hadn’t seemed this black. The lights of Vegas had kept everything lit up, and last time, I hadn’t been alone. Patrick’s strong arm had been wrapped protectively around my shoulders, and I’d been surrounded by other Guardians and Seers who cared about me.

Not this time.

I was alone. But not without company.

I was staring into the piercing blue eyes of Far Darrig, and just below my line of sight I knew he was pointing a gun at me. He had no expression on his face, and his black aura told me nothing. We simply gazed at each other, neither of us moving, not even breathing. His eyes were familiar to me—almost a perfect copy of Patrick’s. But there was a hate inside of them I had no experience with. That hate was all his own.

Suddenly his lips moved. He was speaking to me, his voice low and muted. “He told you to save me, didn’t he?”

I swallowed hard—my heart was pounding. “Yes,” I whispered, my eyes firmly on his. “He promised everything would be all right.”

Far Darrig’s expressionless face twitched, the change too quick to interpret; he was back to a blank stare in a split second. “My father is a fool. As you are, if you believe you can change me.”

“I believe him.” I wasn’t sure why I insisted on arguing with this dangerous enemy. What compelled me to ignite that spark of loathing hiding just beneath his carefully crafted mask?

He blinked at last, though only once. I drew in a sharp breath, as if that insignificant action had somehow freed me from this trance. His voice was wooden. “Don’t. Faith is for the unrealistic. Only the weak trust in the empty words of others.”

I pressed my lips tightly together and tried to make my expression as calming as possible. “I trust him, Sean. Call me weak or unrealistic—but I trust him. I trust in you, your good side.”

His eyes closed again, longer this time, and when they opened, I knew something had changed. I knew I’d lost the fight.

A chilling smile climbed his cheeks. “I have no good side.”

I heard a gunshot. I waited for the painful bite of the discharged bullet, but it never came. I could see the thin trail of smoke curling up from the end of Far Darrig’s gun, but it didn’t make sense. If the bullet wasn’t in me, where had it gone?

In a second, I had my answer. The revelation had only been waiting this long to build suspense. A body collapsed next to me, and I turned to see my grandpa on the warm asphalt. His aura was gone; he was dead. I screamed, but no sound came out.

All I heard was Far Darrig’s low, horrible laugh. “Hold on to your faith if you wish, Kate. But you’ll be disappointed in the end. I’ll make sure of it.”

I fell to my knees, as if predestined to do so. I crawled to my grandpa’s side, saw his wide and gaping eyes, and I screamed again. Still no sound, aside from Far Darrig’s unhurriedly building chuckle.

Grandpa’s lifeless mouth suddenly moved, while his eyes and body remained dead. “Kate. Bring me back. You can bring me back.”

I tried to speak—to tell him it was impossible. Yes, I could travel through memories. I could stop that bullet from stealing his life. But if I did, I would die. Special Seers weren’t allowed to roam around the years in their own lifetime. I might have enough time to change this one event, but then I would be dead. And I knew he didn’t want that exchange. He would never want me to give up my life for his. Although knowing it and then having to tell him that I valued my life more than his . . .

I couldn’t tell him. No sound could escape me.

I felt something in my closed fist. Something I’d been clinging to this whole time, though I hadn’t realized it until now. I glanced down at my uncurling fingers and saw the knife balanced on my open palm.

I couldn’t bring my grandfather back, despite his pleas. But I could avenge him. I could kill Far Darrig.

Kill him or save him . . .

I pushed myself up from the ground and turned toward the waiting Demon. He was staring at me, his eyes wider than before. “Kill me, then,” he nearly taunted. “You can’t save me. So kill me. Kill me. Kill me, Kate Bennett, before I kill you. Before I kill everyone you love.”

My fingers hesitated, then suddenly I was crushing the hilt. I knew without consciously admitting it that I’d made my decision to destroy him.

Far Darrig grinned. I tried to ignore how familiar that grin was. He dropped the gun without thought, spreading his hands and holding them inoffensively near each hip. It was an inviting pose, and his taunting eyes gleamed. “Come on, Kate,” he breathed. “We haven’t all night . . .”

I zeroed in on his chest, where his heart was beating madly. I thought I could actually hear it pounding. My resolve wavered for only a second, then I was darting forward, holding the knife exactly as Patrick’s training dictated.

The second before the blade sank into his heart, I heard Patrick’s agonized cry.

I jolted awake, my arms and legs thrashing abruptly against the mattress. I lay gasping on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady my breathing.

I’d had versions of that same dream nearly every night for just over a month now. Ever since the funeral I’d been reliving my grandfather’s death. The horrible bang of the gunshot, the awful dropping of my stomach as I watched him fall to the asphalt . . .

This past week, the dreams had changed. After hearing my grandpa beg me to save him, to change the past, I looked down and discovered the knife. This was the first time I’d ever decided to actually use it, determined to kill Sean O’Donnell for what he’d done. Last night I’d tossed the knife aside, disgusted by the sight of it. But I hadn’t this time. This time, I would have done it. I
had
done it.

I squeezed my eyes closed, dragged one arm to drape over my face. It blocked out the majority of the morning sunlight, but the comforting darkness was not completely calming. The thumping of my heart was painful, and my rasping breaths were taking too long to steady.

These dreams couldn’t be healthy. Killing my boyfriend’s brother, seeing my grandfather die again and again . . . It had to be the stress. That’s what created these dreams that filled me with doubt; that left me so shaken I hardly knew my own emotions anymore. Had I really become the type of person who would kill? The idea was ludicrous. Yet the dream was so fresh I could still feel the thrill of giving in to my murderous urges. I hadn’t just chosen to kill Far Darrig. I’d
enjoyed
it.

I was going to be sick.

I placed a hand over my mouth and fought to remember what else had been different this time. Patrick’s cry had been new. And though it had been extremely painful to hear his wounded scream, I was glad it was the resounding memory of the dream. The lingering knowledge that killing Sean would destroy Patrick left me feeling a little more sane. Of course I wouldn’t kill Far Darrig. Patrick would never forgive me for killing his brother. It was only a dream. A horrible nightmare, maybe, but in the end it was just fantasy.

The sudden pounding on my door startled me, giving my body its second shock of the morning. “Kate!” Josie called through the door. “Are you up or what? We need to be out of here in fifteen minutes!”

“Of course I’m up,” I lied, pushing myself into a sitting position so I could see the clock. Wow, I’d slept in. “I’ll be right down!” I shouldn’t have bothered with the last words, because I could already hear my sister skipping down the stairs.

It was Friday, thankfully. Getting through school was becoming a daily chore. Senioritis might be some of the problem, but mostly I was just tired of pretending to be normal when I wasn’t. True, I had some excuses to be a little weird and distant in public. I was the girl who’d lost both her parents and a grandparent, all in the same year.

Luckily, Thanksgiving break was fast approaching, so I had that to look forward to. Today, then just another week and a half. It would be a great break from school—one that I needed.

If only a vacation from my own life could be so easily arranged. Not all of it was bad, of course, but I’d been living under constant fear and heavy guard for a month. There was no break from it. Instead of the usual one or two Guardians most Seers had, I had four. I enjoyed the help of two additional Seers, just in case someone tried to sneak up on us when I wasn’t paying attention. Basically, I was never alone. Not even at home. Neither was my family, not that they were aware of that fact. The twins had no clue about the unusual side of my life. Grandma knew everything now, but even she didn’t realize how closely we were being watched. It was just as well—I was freaking out enough for all of us.