Guardians (Seers Trilogy) (16 page)

We stepped off the curb and into the parking lot. My heart was hammering, but my thoughts were strangely clear. I needed to slip away. Somehow. As long as I could get a message to keep the twins safe, there was nothing he could threaten me with. It was an incomplete plan, but it was the best I had at the moment.

He’d parked far away—almost the farthest corner of the crowded lot. But all too soon he was pulling me up to a silver pickup. It was large and appeared to be relatively new. Almost as intimidating as its owner.

I tried to keep my breathing even. I tried not to think about what I intended to do until . . .

His grip loosened subtly as he reached in his pocket for the keys. I made my move at that moment, anticipating this would be my best chance. I slammed my heel into the top of his foot, almost grinding down. He gasped in surprised pain, but before he could tighten his fingers around my arm, I was jerking through his weak point—where his thumb met with the other fingers. I ducked and started to run. I heard him yell behind me and curse loudly, then he was coming after me. Clumsily at first, but picking up speed.

“You’ve just killed one of your brat sisters!” he cried out harshly.

But I didn’t stop. I dived between two parked cars in one of the middle rows. I weaved between some, but he was sliding across hoods and moving a lot faster than I was now. He was going to overtake me in seconds, unless something turned the tables.

My backpack slapped against my back annoyingly, but I didn’t dare spare the second it would take to shrug out of it. My head was ducked, watching my feet so I wouldn’t trip over them or anything else. I almost skidded into one of the parked cars in front of me, but I was able to catch myself with two well-placed palms. At my rocking touch the car shivered and a responding alarm rent the air.

There was another panted curse behind me—closer than I wanted to realize. A car away? Maybe two? I gasped evenly for air and continued to dart madly toward the school. What other choice did I have? My legs pumped furiously, but I knew it wasn’t going to be enough. No way could I continue to outrun him—even with his hurt foot, he was going to catch me.

For the first time, I worried about what he would do when he had me in his power again. That fear was enough to propel me forward, but it wouldn’t last for long.

I felt his fingers grope at my bag. I tried to put on a last burst of speed, but it was no good. He clutched my backpack and the resulting tug was enough to jerk me back against his chest, making us both stagger to an awkward stop. My shoulders felt like they’d been yanked out of their sockets, and I knew I’d have the burning welts for days to come. If I lived that long.

I cried out, simply because there was no way to hold it in. He’d regained his balance. In a sweeping motion that was graceful in its simplicity, he had one hand around my throat, the other slamming my shoulder against the side of a nearby car. I was already struggling to breathe after my futile run, but his choke hold had me straining for the thinnest tendril of air. My lungs were on fire in seconds, and my bulging eyes watered.

A terrible sneer twisted his face, which was pushed right up to mine. “Try that again, Katie,” he grated out with muted fury, “and the Demon Lord’s going to have himself a dead Seer.”

His hand was still forcing my bruised shoulder against one of the car windows. I expected the glass to buckle at any moment, because surely it wasn’t designed to withstand this kind of sustained pressure. My bones were groaning, and if I’d had the air I would have screamed. Instead, all I could produce was a pitiful rasp that might have been a wordless plea.

My vision seemed to rattle, and then my eyes focused on some movement beyond his hulking shoulder. I could barely believe what I was seeing. It was too wonderful to possibly be true.

Patrick was coming toward me at full speed, a knife gripped tightly in one fast pumping fist. He was several long yards away but closing the distance inhumanly fast.

But I’d made the kind of dumb mistake so many damsels in distress do. By staring at him, allowing my eyes to widen revealingly, the Demon was aware that something was coming from behind. He glanced over his shoulder—surprised to see how quickly Patrick was coming—and then he was moving too. Or rather, he was moving
me
.

One second I was looking at Patrick—watching his eyes as they flashed with fear—then I was being shoved aside. I didn’t really understand that he was knocking my head against the side mirror of the car until after the fact. All I felt was the horrific crack my head made as it connected forcefully with the plastic top of the mirror, and then his strangling fingers were gone and I was falling to the ground. I couldn’t see anything but black, but I could feel everything—the sting of loose pebbles grinding into my uselessly extended arms, the thump that drove the lingering air from my lungs when I slammed into the asphalt. My hip took a lot of my initial weight, and my already beaten head pounded firmly against the pavement. I rolled partially onto my stomach, my twisted limbs unresponsive for the moment. I felt broken glass from the mirror, shattered into a thousand fragments, rain down on me.

The pain in my head exploded in a horrible throb. I knew I was bleeding. But had the impact cracked my skull? I had no way of knowing. My body shuddered for breath, my lungs uncaring about the condition of my head because suddenly they could fill with air. I gasped convulsively, but that was the only sound I could come up with.

I was distantly aware of the Demon tensing in front of me, but I couldn’t see anything. When I tried opening my eyes there were too many shapes and shadows to see anything real. He might have taken a step away from me.

I heard the slam of bodies coming much too harshly together. The hood of a nearby car buckled under sudden weight. I heard some gasps amid the sounds of heavy scuffling—a grunt—and then a body crumpled into a pile at the victor’s feet. The fight was fierce but rapid, and it was impossible for me to know who’d won. I couldn’t see anything.

Shaking footsteps came toward me. I was blinking profusely, but I was literally seeing stars. Someone knelt hard in front of me. Trembling fingers slipped into my hair, touching the sorest part of my very sore body. Pieces of glass slipped out of my hair and off my shoulder, raining to the ground.

My limbs jerked in response and a whimper escaped me at his touch.

“Kate?” Patrick’s voice broke painfully. His weight shifted in front of me and then he gently maneuvered me onto my back—my head cradled on his shaking legs. “Kate, stay with me,” he begged, parting my hair to assess the damage.

There was a sharp intake of breath; his thumb rubbed under my eye. “Kate, look at me. Please, I need you to look at me.”

My eyes narrowed, trying to follow his orders, and I could almost make out his pale face with squinting. But that only caused my pounding head more pain. “Patrick?” I gasped.

“I’m here. It’s all right. You’re going to be all right.” One hand remained on my face, smoothing my skin with motions too quick to be assuring, and the other flipped open a phone. Seconds later he was fairly barking into the speaker. “Toni, get down to the high school. Kate’s been attacked. I’m taking her to the emergency room, but I need you to take care of a body. . . . Take the van then!”

“Wait,” I pleaded blearily. “The twins. He wasn’t alone . . .”

Patrick just shook his head at me. “It’s okay, Kate—they’re safe.”

I think I lost consciousness for a moment, because the next thing I knew my cheek was rubbing against his crisp shirt, his rolling footsteps rocking me gently except for the steady jolt that accented each footfall. One of his arms supported my back and the other clung around my knees. I could feel every muscle in his body straining to hold me steady; even his chin was taut upon the top of my head, striving to hold me motionless. The side of my head that felt completely dented was getting a lot of air as we walked, but it was strangely calming against the warm blood I could feel already congealing in my hair.

“What about the body?” I whispered suddenly, the words partially slurred. “You can’t leave him for someone to find.”

If Patrick was surprised to hear me talking, it didn’t show in his clipped words. “It doesn’t matter. He’s invisible. Toni will come for him, then meet us at the hospital when he’s done.”

I struggled to swallow. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. The clean scent coming off his skin helped center my thoughts. “I’m sorry,” I breathed.

He didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard me or maybe he was too upset to speak.

We must have reached his car because he stopped walking. He lowered my legs to the ground, careful to have at least one supporting arm around me at all times. That was a good idea, because I was still unsteady. I swayed against him at the same time one large hand tipped my head back so he could stare critically into my eyes.

I took this opportunity to do a little inventory for myself. My vision was already almost back to normal. That had to be a good sign. My body throbbed with pain—especially my neck, hip, and shoulder—but the pain in my head was so sharp it made the rest seem like minor discomforts.

“Pupils look good,” he finally muttered to himself. Then, to me: “Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseated?”

“Um . . .”

“Kate?”

I frowned at him. “Can you give me a second to think?” I didn’t know where my sassy tone was coming from, but I hoped Patrick would read it as a good sign.

I pulled in a slow breath, trying to center my thoughts. “I felt a little dizzy at first, but now my head just hurts. I don’t feel nauseated. That’s good, right?”

He didn’t really reply. He just reached for the keys in his pocket and I allowed my forehead to dip and rest against his strong shoulder. “Hold on, Kate,” he whispered hoarsely, mouth at my ear. “Just stay conscious.”

The locks disengaged with a whir and a signaling chirp. He opened the passenger door and lowered me inside, carefully sweeping my legs in because I couldn’t seem to move them myself. I leaned my head gratefully against the seat, pursing my lips together to help keep things from spinning.

For the record, it didn’t really help.

The glove box opened in front of me and Patrick searched inside for the first-aid kit. He practically tore the plastic lid off in an effort to get it open sooner, and he didn’t seem to care that items were spilling out to bounce against the floor around my feet. Finally he found some squares of gauze. He pressed these to the side of my head an instant later and I hissed in pain.

“I know, I know,” he fairly groaned, his other hand reaching for mine. He settled my fingers against the gauze beside his own, instructing me to hold it as tightly as I could.

“It hurts,” I protested thinly.

His voice was incredibly tight. “It will help. I promise.”

I pressed my fingers firmly against the wound until he trusted my efforts enough that he drew back. But as soon as his hand was gone and the door was closed I let up on the pressure. I felt like it was the perfect trick, because he wouldn’t be able to see my slack fingers from the driver’s seat. Brilliant.

A distant part of me knew I was thinking pathetic thoughts, but it didn’t stop them from coming.

The driver’s door opened seconds later. He was closing his door and shoving the key into the ignition in the same instant, tossing me a concerned look. “Keep up the pressure, Kate.”

“I am,” I lied.

As an afterthought he reached over and slipped my seat belt on. It took him three tries before he was able to fit the end of the belt into the receiving buckle, since his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. That was funny to me because when he’d held me, he’d been completely steady.

Once I was secure he shifted into reverse, not bothering with his own seat belt as the car rolled back quickly. Seconds later we were out of the parking lot and speeding toward the ER.

“How did you know?” I asked, though I didn’t shift my head to look at him. It wasn’t worth the risk of throwing up.

“Know what?” he asked, his voice a strange balance of distraction and concentration. Distraction because he was paying strict attention to the road, concentration because he was carefully attuned to my every shaking breath.

“Where I was. That I needed you.” My voice couldn’t seem to inflect the words into questions.

The lump in his throat bobbed when he swallowed. “Peter spotted a Demon at the elementary school and alerted Claire and Maddy. Claire went in pursuit, and Maddy called me because they thought I should know. I came to find you immediately. Aaron said you were with Trent, but once I was in the hall my feet took me outside instead. I don’t know why. And then I heard the car alarm and I guessed . . .” He switched lanes briskly, but I think he was using the light traffic as an excuse to stop talking. The emotion was thick in his voice, and he was obviously trying to stay strong for me.

“You can slow down,” I said after a tense moment. “I’m feeling better now.”

It was actually the truth. I was feeling less out of it, more in control. I was still in pain, but I wasn’t fighting the impulse to laugh anymore. That had to be good.

But he didn’t react to my words. Not even a weak protest or a simple grunt. If anything, he more firmly planted his foot on the accelerator.

I sighed and delicately peeled the gauze away from my head so I could look at the blood. There was less than I thought there would be, which gave me hope that I might not need too many stitches.

“Keep it on, please,” he mumbled distractedly, his eyes already sliding back to the road.

“Patrick, you can breathe. Really, I was just dazed before. I’m okay now.”

“I’m going to let a doctor decide that.”

I sighed, but I put the gauze back to cover the gash. “What am I supposed to tell them?” I murmured, able to form a real question this time. “That I was attacked by a Demon?”

“No. Just . . . Pretend you don’t remember. I’ll take care of the rest.” His voice was heavy enough that I decided to stop talking to him. My words only seemed to be increasing his distress.

I wouldn’t let him carry me into the emergency room, but I was grateful for his steadying arms as he helped guide me inside. He led me up to the nurses’ window where a middle-aged woman calmly asked me what had happened. Where I hesitated to speak, Patrick quickly filled in the blanks. In less than a minute the basic story was out—he’d found me in the high school parking lot, head knocked against a side mirror. Pretty simple, and she didn’t seem to care for further details. At least not yet. She suggested I keep pressure on the wound, handed us a clipboard, and told us to fill out the paperwork while we waited.