Guardians (Seers Trilogy) (31 page)

Patrick’s arms were tight around me, one hand pressing my head to rest against his heaving chest, not caring about the blood that would surely transfer to his shirt. He shuddered around me, his voice rasping my name in a mixture of horror and relief.

The cut on my face was stinging, but I didn’t want to pull away from him. Not until Lee spoke from beside me. “Geez Louise,” she muttered in shock.

I opened my eyes and squirmed in Patrick’s grip, until I saw my grandma in her long blue nightgown, standing in the doorway with my grandpa’s old handgun. She’d even managed to attach the silencer.

Her face was grim. “Do I dare ask who I just shot?” she asked any of us.

***

I leaned against the edge of the bathroom counter, watching as Patrick washed his hands after bandaging my cut. Thin streams of blood washed down the drain in hypnotic swirls. Lee stood on my other side, gripping my hand tightly. Her aura was surprisingly calm despite everything she’d been through a mere half hour ago. The whole side of her face was either bruised or inflamed from where she’d been struck, but she hardly seemed aware of the pain. It was a small thread in her aura, hardly noticeable as she worried for me.

“Kate, are you sure you’re okay? You’re still really pale.”

Patrick glanced up to catch my reply.

“I’m fine,” I whispered dully.

Claire, Jason, and Hanif were gone taking care of the Demon bodies and that of their Seer. The bodies they hadn’t taken remained in the garage. I could barely think of them without being overwhelmed with shame and regret. Because they had died for me.

Patrick had found Alex’s body in the backyard. He and Maddy had both discovered the side door to the garage, suspiciously ajar. Ashley’s body was lying just inside.

Dr. Radcliffe was on his way to collect them, though I wasn’t sure what he intended to do with them. Send them back to family? I knew Alex had no relatives left. I hardly knew anything about Ashley, but I doubted she would have come here over the holidays if she had loved ones. The only comfort I had was that—at least in Alex’s case—he was with his loved ones now. I could only assume that Ashley was with someone now too.

I let out a shaky breath as Lee rubbed my arm. “Hey, can I get you something to eat? Something with salt, or sugar?”

I shook my head. “I think I’d just throw it back up.”

She gave me an understanding look. Patrick shut off the water, gripped the edge of the sink, and spoke in a worn-out whisper. “Lee, you should call Toni. Tell him what happened.” He was watching as his knuckles turned white from the strain of his grip. It felt like he was choosing to focus on anything but me.

Lee nodded once while squeezing my hand, before leaving us alone.

I continued to stare at the shower curtain across from me, resisting the urge to dissolve into tears. Being in shock helped hold that sort of thing back, luckily.

Patrick was silent beside me. I expected him to break it eventually, but not in the way he finally did. I heard something that resembled a croak but was more like a gasp. My eyes slid to see him hunched over the sink, his shoulders quaking with dry sobs.

I was so shocked by the sight of his anguish, I hardly knew what to do. I’d never seen him break down before. That was usually my prerogative.

I moved slowly, peeling away from the counter to hesitate at his side. I placed a hand on his back and he shivered at my touch, still panting heavily. “Shh,” I whispered soothingly. “Patrick, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t. His throat sounded tight, the air he managed to get inside his lungs exhaling just as quickly. He was going to hyperventilate. Could Guardians do that?

My fingers stroked his back, my other hand coming to run up and down his arm. “Are you hurt?” I asked, deeply concerned. “What’s wrong?”

I swear I heard the counter crack under his weight; the pressure of his crushing hold threatened to rip it from the wall. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally gasped. “I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t—”

“Shh,” I repeated, trying to gather him into my arms. I laid my head against his shoulder, pushing myself up against him. “Patrick, it’s okay. It’s over.”

“It’s not over,” he rasped, almost choking on what could have been a hard laugh. “It will never be over. Not until you’re gone. And then there won’t be a point to it. To anything.”

My eyes burned, but I didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, moved my hand down his tense arm. His grip on the sink faltered. I took advantage of the momentary lapse by sliding my fingers around his elbow. For a second I thought he would fight me, intent on keeping me shut out. But then his body sagged and he let me get in front of him, my back to the counter. He buried his head in my shoulder, wrapping me in his arms so tightly I could barely breathe. I tried to hold him just as strongly, but I’m sure my feeble arms didn’t succeed. I just wanted to calm him down—bring him back to being the Patrick he’d been just a few hours ago. Had we really been flirting in the living room only hours ago? So much had happened since then.

“Why?” He shuddered into me, moaning deeply and breaking up my thoughts. “Why do I have to lose you?”

My whole face scrunched in confusion, pulling uncomfortably against the bandage on my face. My grip on him tightened. “Patrick, what are you talking about? You haven’t lost me—I’m right here.”

“Now. But not forever. Kate, please don’t leave me here alone.” His voice sounded so lost, so broken.

My eyes pricked with tears and I pulled him impossibly closer, my arms coming around his bent neck. “I’m not going to leave you, Patrick. I’m
never
going to leave you. Remember? I promised.”

He didn’t reply right away. He just continued to shake with the energy of his grief—a grief I hardly understood. Why was he falling apart like this? I’d been through worse. We both had.

He whispered so softly I barely heard his words. “Yes, you will.”

I frowned. “What?”

“You’re going to leave me.”

I tangled my fingers in the hair at the back of his head, hoping the feel of my fingers against his skin would help soothe him—assure him of my presence. “Patrick, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.”

I felt his lips graze my neck, his forehead brushing back into my hair. “But you do. I’ve seen it.”

I tried to pull away from him, to look at his face, but he held me firmly in place. I nearly growled in frustration. “What are you talking about? Seen it? Seen what?”

“The night of your grandfather’s funeral,” he spoke huskily against my skin. “You came to me. From the future. You told me to change the past. To keep the twins from dying. You said I needed to let you go so I could protect them. You asked me to let you die. How could you ask me to—?” A harsh breath was expelled, his question unspoken, haunting the space between us.

I stopped trying to pull away from him. I tried to wrap my mind around this new information. The fact that he’d seen our future and hadn’t told me. He’d seen me basically commit suicide but hadn’t bothered to tell me. And the twins? They were going to die? My mind shied away from the very implication. They couldn’t die—I wouldn’t allow it.

Patrick was still speaking, almost mumbling now. “You said that everything we try fails. That
I’m
going to fail. That I’m not strong enough to protect you. You were covered in blood.” His arms flexed around me. “And when you disappeared from my arms, I knew you were dead. I—I can’t let you die, Kate.” He gulped back a fresh sob. “But it will happen. I know it will—I watched it happen . . .”

My lips parted. It took a full minute before I could force words out, and when I did they were incredibly weak. “Why didn’t you tell me this? It’s been weeks, Patrick.
Weeks
.”

His breath snorted weakly. “I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to give you any ideas. I thought I could change things—save you. Keep you from traveling back . . .”

He didn’t have to add the last part.
But it’s impossible to change what’s already happened.

But, no. Patrick couldn’t believe this was over. He’d said it himself, downstairs. He’d said our fates weren’t set in stone. We could control our destinies.

And if he really believed that,
I realized,
he wouldn’t be in such despair now. He would have told you about your future visit sooner. He was lying to you before. Things
are
set in stone. You’re going to die.

He seemed to notice for the first time how still I’d become. He pulled back swiftly and I saw his tear-streaked face at last. It was contorted into a look of pure torture, his eyes horrified at what he’d done. “Kate, please. Please forgive me. For keeping this from you. For telling you. For letting it happen, I—”

I reached up to touch his face—trace the trails left by his tears. I couldn’t explain the calm that had come over me. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were doing what you thought was right.”

His breathing came even faster now, as if my easy acceptance frightened him more than screams and denials. “I didn’t mean to tell you. Let alone like this.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered.

He groaned. “No, it’s not. Kate, you shouldn’t have to carry this burden.”

I shook my head. The few facts I knew kept running through my mind: I was going to die. Patrick had seen it. He didn’t think my fate could be changed. I was going to die.

“Kate,” Patrick groaned.

“Let’s not worry about this right now,” I interrupted unhurriedly, my eyes on his. “Tonight’s been . . . We’re both here, and we’re both alive. I can’t . . . I can’t be freaking out about the twins right now. I . . . I can’t worry about this right now. Please?”

He didn’t answer right away. It was obvious he wanted to talk it out—flush out my true feelings and convince me there was nothing to worry about. But I knew better than that.

Patrick knew that this—my death—was inevitable.

My steady gaze must have convinced him I was stable, though. At least emotionally sound enough to discuss all the implications later. The night had been long enough already; it had changed everything.

He bowed his head to escape my steady stare. “All right,” he breathed shakily, agreeing to put off the discussion—for now.

But as we held each other tightly, I knew the conversation was still going on in our minds.

T
he cleanup of
the house took the rest of the night and into the morning. The twins went straight to school from their respective sleeping places, so at least I didn’t have to worry about them seeing a bullet hole in the wall by the front door, let alone the blood both inside and outside of the house. I didn’t want to go to school myself, but in the interest of convincing Patrick that the news of my imminent death hadn’t completely disturbed me, I went.

I was distracted and distant in class. Patrick was silent as well, though he asked me every now and again if I wanted to go home. I shook my head every time, because I knew going home would just make me think of the six lives lost there last night, most poignant being those of Alex and Ashley. Trudging through school was nothing compared to the torture of being in my own home.

I didn’t hear a word any teacher spoke. I was concentrating on everything Patrick had told me last night.

He’d seen me die. Weeks ago he’d listened to my last words, held me in his arms while I bled out . . . While I died. I was going to die.

I was going to die.

Death was something every living thing had to come to terms with. But usually one didn’t get this much warning, this kind of detailed information. Thinking of my fate didn’t make for a cheerful morning or afternoon. And to think that Patrick had been dealing with this since Grandpa’s funeral . . . Every time he’d looked into my eyes, held my hand, he’d been thinking of my death. He had to have been—something like this was impossible to ignore. It was why he’d been so adamant I not go back to his father, why he didn’t want me helping Terence with the mission to stop the Demon Lord . . . He’d known all along that we were going to fail, that I was going to die. And he hadn’t told me.

I tried to be angry, but really I was only hurt. Hurt that he’d been dealing with this on his own. Hurt that I couldn’t comfort him. Hurt because I couldn’t be strong for him when I was so terrified myself.

And then I had my most immediate fears.

The safety of the twins had me freaking out even more than my imminent death. Why hadn’t I given Patrick more specifics when I’d traveled to warn him? How exactly could he save them? Would his presence be enough to stop what was going to threaten them? When were they going to be in the worst danger? How would I know? How could I help protect them?

Everything we try fails.
That phrase could mean a lot of things, but I found myself figuring out a reasonable explanation.

When Dr. Radcliffe came to get the bodies of Alex and Ashley last night, he just shook his head. “I’ll have to call Terence. This pushes our plans back—perhaps indefinitely. Already we were short on help. No one was willing to possibly sacrifice his life for this mission. And to find Special Seers young enough . . . I don’t know what we’ll do now.”

In my mind, it was all beginning to make sense. Two Seers had been lost last night. But I happened to know two Special Seers who could serve as replacements. It was beyond obvious I needed to help now. If I didn’t volunteer, the Demon Lord might never be stopped. The twins would never be safe. And if my attempt was due to fail, at least I could die with the knowledge that I’d tried to make things right.

The words of the scripture in Proverbs kept running through my mind: “There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.”

Maybe I was wrong to try—doomed to failure. But I couldn’t stop trying to protect those I loved just because I might fail. Living like that would drive me crazy.

Now I just needed to tell Terence and, of course, Patrick. I wasn’t looking forward to the latter conversation, but I knew I couldn’t put off the first any longer.