Guardians (Seers Trilogy) (29 page)

“That’s good.” I bit my lower lip, desperate to avoid going back upstairs, but drawing a blank on any intelligent questions to ask.

He sensed my internal dilemma. “Jason keeps nodding off. We could use another Seer, if you feel up to it.”

I agreed at once.

He almost smiled, but the action carried a regretful edge. Or maybe just tired. I wished I could see his aura to know for sure.

We wandered into the front room, which was filled with silver moonlight mingled with yellow light from the streetlamp across the street. Jason was sitting on the couch, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He looked up when we entered, his aura flashing with guilty colors. “Sorry, Kate—studying for finals has been killing me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can take over.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Of course. One of us should get some sleep.”

He stood stiffly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

I told him he could find a quilt in the family room, and he shuffled out, unbuckling a sheathed knife from his belt as he went.

A quick glance to Patrick’s waist showed me that he had at least two blades of his own. Seeing the leather hilt on his largest dagger brought back images of my dream. Sean had continued to haunt me every night, though I was almost getting used to it. We talked, he killed my grandpa, my grandpa asked me to save him, and I killed Sean; it was sickeningly simple.

“Kate?” Patrick sounded concerned.

My eyes flickered up to his. “It’s nothing.” I moved to sit on the couch where Jason had been, grateful that the back was low so I didn’t have to crane my neck to see out the large window.

Patrick lowered himself down on the opposite end, letting the plush arm support his back.

“Patrick, can I ask a stupid question?”

He half smiled. “I doubt it. No stupid questions, right?”

I smiled briefly in return. “I was just curious . . . Why don’t Guardians carry guns? I mean, I know that a knife is the only thing that can pierce the Demon’s heart and kill him, but . . .
They
carry guns. Wouldn’t it even the playing field for you to have them?”

Patrick was nodding. “Certainly not a stupid question. But easy enough to answer. Guns equal stray bullets, and Guardians refuse to increase a human’s danger. Demons don’t care about harming an innocent, so they use guns freely. In fact, most prefer guns over a knife, simply because, well, why bring to a fight the one weapon with the power to end them?”

“Makes sense. But you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course. We practice with them; we just don’t carry them.”

He waited, but when I didn’t persist in questioning him, he turned his gaze out to the quiet street. I followed his example a short second later, and we stared outside for a couple minutes in silence. I thought about going back upstairs to tell Claire where I’d gone, but I was too comfortable to move. She’d probably realize I was with Patrick and not worry about my prolonged absence.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

Patrick waited to answer until after a slow-moving car had ambled past. Even then, he didn’t look at me. “Alex and Maddy are making rounds around the house. Ashley is in the laundry room, keeping an eye on the garage, and Hanif is in the kitchen, watching the back door.” He glanced my way. “He’s probably eating you out of house and home too. For being such a skinny kid . . .” His words drifted to silence, gaze locked outside.

“Are you tired?” I asked.

He shook his head minutely, eyes unwavering. “No.”

I curled my legs up on the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. My shoulder dug into the back of the couch, and I admit it—I was watching him a lot more than I was watching for Demons.

“You’re wearing your ring,” I commented suddenly.

His eyes dipped down, brushing over his right hand. His fingers tightened into a fist. “I debated wearing it at all, until I can get it sized. But . . .”

“It looks good on you.”

“Thank you.”

I sighed loudly, lowering my chin onto my knees. “I’m sorry.”

He turned toward me again. “For what?”

“I can’t be quiet for more than two minutes.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “More like
one
minute.”

I grinned in the semi darkness, and it felt good. “I’d be horrible on a stakeout.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He went back to staring out the window.

I kept staring at him.

His strong jaw and serious eyes were in conflict with his untidy hair, which hinted at an easiness he certainly wasn’t feeling. One arm was poised on the back edge of the couch, the other slightly bent and resting against one leg. I wanted more than anything to be wrapped in those arms, but I sensed that he wouldn’t feel now was an appropriate time for something frivolous like that. The light from outside highlighted his somewhat stern features, but even in stoic stillness, he was the most heart-stopping figure I’d ever laid eyes on.

“You’re so incredible.” I’d whispered the words without thought. Amazingly, I didn’t blush when he turned his head to look at me.

He could have said so many things, but in the end he settled for, “Kate, that barely broke a minute.”

I smiled, and we both turned back to the window.

Still, it wasn’t long before I voiced my newest thoughts—a subject I’d wanted to broach but hadn’t been able to form into words. I kept my eyes focused outside, unable to keep the hope out of my voice. “Patrick, what happens to Sean if the Demon Lord is killed in the past? If he never became a Seer, would it change Sean’s fate? Would he—?” The weight of Patrick’s stare forced me to glance his way, effectively cutting off my words.

His expression was somber, his eyes dark on mine. “The Demon Lord didn’t turn Sean into a Demon. My . . . brother did that all on his own.” Patrick bit his bottom lip, inclining his upper body toward me, lowering his voice even further. I felt his warm fingers curl around mine below my line of vision, our hands balanced together on my lap.

Patrick continued honestly. “I don’t know how it will affect your grandfather’s death—if he’ll still be alive. Or if killing the Demon Lord will bring back countless others he’s killed over the years. I don’t pretend to understand something as convoluted as changing the past. Sean will still be a Demon, though. I’m sure of that. And there’s a good chance that once the Demon Lord’s gone . . .” His eyes flickered away, his jaw stiffening. “I won’t even know Sean became a Demon. I won’t know where he is in the world, and he won’t know where I am. I won’t know I failed him . . .”

I squeezed his hand and our eyes met again. My voice was quiet but firm. “Patrick, you’re right about one thing: no one forced Sean to become a Demon. Not the Demon Lord, and definitely not you. You can’t keep blaming yourself for his mistakes.”

I frowned, thoughts switching to a new level. “But how can you be so sure Sean
won’t
change? That he won’t become a Demon? The Demon Lord is the one who forced me to go back and convince your father to force you both to war, so Sean
could
become a Demon. If the Demon Lord hadn’t done that . . .”

I felt my face go pale in an instant, a new thought occurring to me. A horrifying thought. Patrick watched the sudden change in my mood with concern. “Patrick, if I don’t journey back and convince your father to send you both away, you won’t join the United Irishmen. Neither of you will. And if you don’t, you would never choose to be a Guardian. You said yourself you only did it to protect Sean.” My panic was rising, entering my voice and speeding up my words. “You never would have chosen this life, because you wouldn’t have had to protect Sean in the war. We would never meet. I’ll never know you.

“But I’d still become a Seer. The Demon Lord didn’t cause the accident with my parents. But Romero and Selena never would have come after me because the Demon Lord wouldn’t have been around to care about me. I never would have become such a focus for the Demons, but . . . I wouldn’t have you. If they succeed, I’m going to lose you.”

Everything was unraveling. My whole life, it seemed, would become completely altered if the Demon Lord was killed.

That’s when I felt Patrick’s free hand—the one not clinging to my now cold fingers—come gently against the side of my face, thumb stroking earnestly along my jaw. His blue eyes were bright and fierce, his voice throbbing. “Kate Bennett, I’m not going to lose you. I refuse to believe we could be separated in such a way. It doesn’t make sense. Things can’t change that drastically—that thoroughly.”

I blinked quickly. “But there are consequences, Patrick. Always. To every action. If they kill the Demon Lord, things
will
change.”

Patrick’s forehead tipped against mine, his hand slipping around the back of my neck to hold me in place. “
This
won’t change,” he whispered fervently. “The love I feel for you is too real to just disappear, no matter what happens with the Demon Lord.
We
control our fate. I will never believe anything else. Some things are too complicated for comprehension, but this I know: I love you. And whether or not the Demon Lord is killed, whether or not Sean becomes a Demon, I will find you. I
will
become a Guardian. I know it. Because becoming a Guardian is my only path to you, and so it is the only path I can take.”

My heart was hammering. Tears were clouding my vision. But as much as his words warmed me, I wasn’t completely comforted. “So you believe we’re born with our stories already written? You believe everything is set in stone?”

I felt his head shift against mine and shake in the negative. His voice grew firm. “Not set in stone. I’ll never believe destiny can’t be dictated by us, by our desires and actions. The future isn’t set in stone, and for people like you, even the past is alterable. But if for some reason things change, and we’re not together . . . I would change my destiny, Kate, if it keeps you in my life. I would do anything—sacrifice anything—to have you. Even become a Guardian.”

I fought to keep my low voice from cracking. “But you won’t remember me. If the Demon Lord’s death really triggers all of this . . . you’ll have no memory of me. How will you know to become a Guardian? How will you find me if you don’t know I exist?”

Patrick’s two hands slid to cup my face, his thumbs brushing at the tears that leaked from my blurry eyes.

His eyes were narrowed, locked on mine. “Because I am meant to find you, Kate. And you’re meant to find me. The Demon Lord can’t change that. A distance of two hundred years can’t change that. If we are somehow separated by all this—by the Demon Lord’s death, or whatever else comes at us—I’ll find you. You have my word.”

His words were spoken too sincerely to doubt. He was completely confident, and it would have been impossible for me to distrust both his love and faith that we would be together in the end—even if my thoughts were still spinning in unanswerable questions, unending circles of actions and reactions, choices and consequences.

I closed my eyes briefly, relishing his touch. Then I opened my eyes to stare him down, my hands wrapping around his wrists to keep him close. “You better not leave me, Patrick O’Donnell. Because I swear I would come after you.” His lips quirked into a half grin at my firmly spoken threat, and I hurried to finish. “I don’t know why you picked me to love, out of everyone out there, but I’m
not
going to give you up. Even if I lose my memory of you, I promise I’ll never lose my love. I’ll find you too.”

“Then how can we lose?” He continued to grin freely, and that’s when I leaned in and kissed him.

We passed a quiet minute that way, until he groaned and pulled away from me, hands still cradling my face. “You’re a terrible distraction, Kate. It’s final. I’m never bringing you on a stakeout. How am I supposed to be an alert Guardian when you keep doing that?”

“What?” I asked, smiling widely. “This?”

My lips barely brushed his before he pushed my shoulders back. “Yes,
that
. Now, would you please let me get back to protecting you?”

“Sure. Want me to leave?” I teased lightly.

His eyes darkened. “Don’t you dare.”

And so I stayed beside him, our fingers entwined as we looked out the bay window.

It was almost two in the morning when Patrick’s phone vibrated. My eyes flickered away from the empty street to watch him read the incoming text. The light from his phone lit up his face for a moment as he took in the words, then he made a fast reply. He lowered the phone and returned to watching out the window.

“That was Toni,” he murmured without prompting. “He just wanted to make sure we were still all right.”

“Is Josie okay?”

“She’s fine.”

We sat in silence for several minutes—we hadn’t seen a car for over a half hour now. My eyelids were beginning to get heavy, but I wasn’t going to leave Patrick.

His phone went off again. He glanced down and I closed my eyes, hoping to quench the stinging while he was distracted; I didn’t want him to pressure me into going back to bed.

“What . . . ?” he muttered distractedly.

I opened my eyes and looked to him. His forehead was wrinkled in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer—just handed me his phone. I scanned the text, noting it was from Alex.

Looks good in back. What about

It cut off there, an unfinished question. I looked up at Patrick, who was looking between me and our somewhat limited view of the front yard. “Maybe he sent it on accident?” I offered.

“Maybe . . .” Patrick reached for the phone and I handed it back.

We waited in silence, expecting another text to follow the first.

It didn’t.

After two minutes Patrick rose to his feet. “Stay here. I’m going to check the back.” He glanced back at me. “Do you have your phone?”

I shook my head. It was on the nightstand in my bedroom, charging.

Judging by the expression on his face he’d already guessed the answer. He kept his voice assuring. “I’ll be right back.”

I kept an eye on him as he wandered out of the room into the darkened entryway. Some light flickered in through the slim window beside the front door, but even with that he was just a silhouette. A shadow. I lost sight of him when he moved around the corner, headed for the kitchen.