Guardians (Seers Trilogy) (41 page)

Josie was shaking at my side, pale. “Jenna, I’m sorry. I’m sorry . . .”

The back door slammed open behind us, and even though I knew who it would be I looked over my shoulder

Patrick looked as young as ever. Maybe a little worn. He was wearing close to the same thing I’d seen him in last, in Vegas. A blue cotton shirt, so light in color compared to my own apparel. Faded jeans that made his hair appear all the lighter. In a way, it was fitting. He was the angel brother; I was the Demon. All was right in the world—except I was crouched next to a little girl, my fingertips so hesitant against her supple skin. I should have been the one to break her arm. Why was I so desperate to help save her from pain?

Patrick’s eyes were filled with panic, his face bathed in white fear. He looked right at us. Right at
me
.

His already tensed body grew harder. Hunched over the small girl, gripping her arm, I must have looked threatening. But, just like me, he seemed incapable of moving. For the moment.

“Patrick?” Josie said, deeply confused. “What are
you
doing here?”

Patrick didn’t answer her question, though her voice had broken the spell of stillness. He jumped off the long porch, striding toward us, hands shaking. “Josie, get back!” His voice was a bark, a delayed warning, in my opinion. “Get away from him!” Patrick broke into a sudden run, not that he had far to go now.

I released Jenna’s arm and rose to my feet. I nearly stumbled back, knowing I should be reaching for my gun. I could shoot him. Slow him down. Make him suffer. Like I suffered. Grab the girls. Call for Yuri.

“Patrick,” Jenna gasped. “My arm, it hurts . . .”

He didn’t take his eyes off of me, but I must have backed far enough away because he took the time to stop and reach for Jenna’s uninjured arm. He pulled her to her feet. She cried out as her broken arm was jostled. “
Ow
! It hurts!” she yelled up at him.

Patrick had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and he protectively drew her back up against his chest. Watching me, he tried to examine her injury, staring at her limp wrist.

“It’s a clean break,” I told him, unable to stop the words from escaping.

He glared up at me. “You’ve sunk this low? You’ll attack a child?”

I bristled, more bothered by his accusation than I should have allowed myself to be. I was
Fear Dearg,
after all.

Josie rose to my defense. “He didn’t do anything, Patrick. Jenna and I jumped off the swings.”

He wasn’t in the mood to listen. “Josie, I need you and Jenna to go inside. Find Jack.”

“But Sean didn’t
do
anything!” Josie actually stomped her foot against the grass, indignant that I was being wrongly accused.
If only you knew what things I’ve done,
I thought grimly.

Patrick blinked, glancing quickly away from me so he could see her face. “Sean?” he asked in shock.

Josie rolled her eyes. “That’s his name, duh! He was pushing us on the swings. It wasn’t his fault.”

I watched Patrick’s face as he turned back to look at me. Confusion, fear, anger, defensiveness, even pain—it was all there.

I wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted.

A gunshot sounded inside the house, shattering the momentary stillness. All of us jumped. Josie’s wide eyes haunted me as she whipped around to follow the sound. It was obvious she’d never heard a real bullet discharge in her life, but the way she began to shake made it clear she knew exactly what that sound meant.

Patrick’s arm around Jenna tightened, as if that feeble gesture could protect her from the imminent danger. From
me
.

His words accosted me. “How many are there?
How
many
?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“What’s going on?” Josie demanded, fear tingeing her words. “Patrick, what’s happening?”

Patrick grabbed Josie’s arm, yanking her closer, eyes firmly on me. “Take Jenna,” he ordered Josie lowly. “Run to the barn. Hide. Don’t come out for anyone but me. Go!”

“But—”

“
Go
!”

Josie grabbed her sister’s left arm, frightened enough by Patrick’s fierce tone that she didn’t ask questions. They jogged lightly away, obediently headed for the barn.

A strange lump clogged my throat. Without thinking, my legs lurched to follow them, an instinct I couldn’t ignore though it defied my whole being. They couldn’t go off on their own—Yuri would find them.

Patrick countered my move by mirroring it, and we both froze. We were mere paces away, glaring each other down.

“I didn’t come for you,” I growled at last. “I came for
them
.”

And that means others want them too. Don’t send them away. It’s not safe, don’t you understand?
Why couldn’t I make myself add the words?

Patrick’s hands rolled into trembling fists. “You’re not going to touch them.”

“You don’t understand—”

“What are you
doing
here?” Patrick cut in angrily. “How did you find this place?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to.

His teeth clenched tightly. “What have you done? Where’s Kate?”

“Probably right where you left her,” I said, not trying to soften my words.

His eyes flashed. And then he charged me with his bare hands. I don’t know why I didn’t pull my gun. I could have. I had enough time. But I didn’t. I let him slam into me, knocking us both to the hard ground.

We hit jarringly and he clutched the cloth around my neck, skidding my back over the grass. The gun bruised my skin, but I could feel it healing in the same instant. Patrick slammed my head harshly into the earth and my vision blurred from the impact.

“Where is she?” he hissed, kneeling over me and looking angry enough to kill.

I stared into his eyes, wishing it didn’t have to be like this. But that thought alone surprised me. I hated him. I wanted to hate him. I
needed
to hate him.

I loved to hate him.

I went for honesty, since it would be the most painful for him to hear. “With the Demon Lord. Where she’s going to die.”

His chest expanded harshly, a split second before his doubled fist buckled my nose.

I gasped from the pain and felt the blood cover my face though the bones and sinew were already shifting back into place.

“
Where is she
?”

Another punch, breaking my nose again.

My eyes were watering, but the pain was doing its job. I was remembering why I was here. I was becoming
Fear Dearg
again.

I kicked him off me, my retaliation so sudden he could hardly prepare himself. He was too emotional, distracted, and frantic. His grip pulled my body over with him, so I was now straddling him. I delivered a powerful blow to his face, affording him a taste of my pain. His cracked nose spurted blood and before it could fully heal I was striking him again. He growled in fury, but his hurt was undeniable. My second punch dislodged his jaw.

I continued to hammer him with my tight fist, my other hand clutching his shoulder, pinning him down.

I heard the back door open, heard Yuri’s even yell. “I see them!” His footsteps leaped, making the long jump off the porch, and then he was running after the twins.

Jenna. Josie.

Sean.

Patrick was struggling more desperately beneath me. His blind rage shifted, becoming more focused with the knowledge that the twins were being pursued. Whatever help he thought he’d had in the form of a man named Jack, he was beginning to realize he didn’t have it anymore. He tried to lift a knee and take me off guard, tried to claw the flesh from my arm. But I wasn’t worried. He would fail, because I was stronger.

I could see to my brother and let Yuri take care of the twins. I could torture Patrick for as long as I wanted, injecting him with a deviant strain of the virus only when I was ready to end his life. I didn’t have to agonize over this. I didn’t have to think. I could just be
Fear Dearg.

Jenna.

Josie.

. . . Sean.

It would be easy. Not only that, it would feel so good. To see him suffer. To hear him scream.

Your father loves you.

Only because he didn’t know what I’d become.

My eyes were stinging. Had something gotten inside? Sweat, blood, dirt? Certainly I wasn’t crying.
Fear Dearg
didn’t cry.

But that’s not the point. You don’t even need to know they love you, really. Not when
you
love
them
.

I didn’t love them. I hated them all.

You love Patrick.

No. I wanted to kill him.

You just want to know that he can still love you, after everything you’ve done.

No!

I
was
crying. I could feel the tears darting down my face, mingling with the blood. I tightened my grip on my brother, afraid to lose my hate. If I lost that, what did I have? Nothing.

One of the twins screamed.

Something in me snapped.

I shoved away from Patrick, gaining such speed I felt likeI was flying. I jumped over a thin flower bed that lined the main backyard, leaving Patrick behind. I swiped an arm over my face, sweeping off a layer of blood. The barn loomed in my view, the wide open doors inviting me to cross the flat land even faster. I could make out the forms of three people, two small and one large, just inside the spacious building. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I got there, but I needed to get inside. That’s all I knew.

Because you can’t deny your emotions anymore, Sean. Not when I’ve finally gotten you to admit they’re there.

That’s when I realized the voice I’d been hearing inside my head wasn’t my own. It wasn’t even the long-buried part of me, the part I called Sean. No. It belonged to someone else. Someone, I realized, I’d been hearing since Patrick escaped me in Vegas.

I felt an intense spike of anger, causing me to nearly trip.
Who are you?
I demanded, maintaining a staggering run.

No need to get upset. You’re the one who let me in. I couldn’t have gotten this much voice if you’d kept blocking me. But we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m Henry Bennett.

A horrible guilt washed over me as the image of Henry Bennett’s face swam before my eyes. It wasn’t something I was used to, this guilt; surprisingly, it hurt more than anything I’d ever felt before. More than physical torture, more than betrayal, more than abandonment; I felt more pain than I’d felt that night in the ally, after killing the stranger for a few francs.

You’re . . . in my head?
The idea was preposterous, no matter who he was. It was insane. Infuriating. Disturbing. Had he been manipulating me for weeks? Had he forced me to feel that guilt?

Not exactly, but frankly it doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is, you’ve opened yourself up to your emotions again. You can’t shut out the guilt, the caring. It’s a part of you again. You chose to revive your conscience the moment you started running after the girls, and now it can’t be silenced.

The gravel shifted beneath me, slowing me down further. Why was I even running? I didn’t really want to help those girls. Their dead grandfather was forcing me . . . The man I’d killed . . .

I can’t stick around forever, Sean. What’s it going to be? Are you going to accept that this was your choice, or are you going to pass along the blame again? It’s up to you. You’re the only one who can save my girls. You’re the only one who can save yourself. So get to work.

His voice vanished. My head felt strangely empty. But my chest felt tight, swollen. The man I’d killed had been forcing me to confront my emotions. And according to him, I’d chosen to be Sean again. But had I? All I felt was confusion. Pain.

The sheer weight of my emotions were going to destroy me.

My legs locked when I reached the massive barn doorway, panting with my arms swinging, unsure of what I was going to do.

They were just inside the barn. The twins hadn’t had enough time to hide, and they definitely hadn’t stood a chance against someone like Yuri Dmitriev. He had Jenna pinned brutally on the ground, a boot digging into her stomach to keep her there. Her crooked arm was lying near the side of her head at an odd angle. She was sobbing, a combination of pain and fear.

Josie was suspended in a stranglehold, her jerking legs kicking at the man who held her. He was suffocating her—exactly what I’d planned to do to both of them.

That thought caused me to flinch. But I still couldn’t move.
Sean or
Fear Dearg
?

Josie’s bare foot swung wildly, ineffective. Annoying, at best. She was grabbing, scratching at his arm with those small fingers, fingers that had touched me only minutes ago, full of trust. She couldn’t possibly breathe.

Jenna was hysterical on the ground. “Let her go!” she choked through her tears.

Throat constricted, I stumbled forward.

Josie wasn’t in a position to notice my approach, but Jenna caught sight of me. She began to slam her good hand against Yuri’s leg. “Sean!” she burst out. “Sean, help!”

Yuri’s head jerked around, confused by her cries. He saw me barreling toward him, and his eyes widened when he realized I didn’t intend to stop—something that took me by surprise as well. He threw Josie away from him, unconcerned about how hard she hit the floor. He managed to swivel off Jenna before I tackled him.

We rolled in the loose hay, each of us grappling for a solid grip on the other.

“What are you doing?” he grunted as I pressed him into the ground.

My fist in his face was his only answer.

He replied by chopping the edge of his hand into my throat, cutting off my air for a prolonged second that gave him enough time to shove away from me. We both rolled to our feet, my eyes still flaring with pain.

I heard Jenna shriek Patrick’s name. So he’d followed me. I wasn’t really surprised. I hoped he had the sense to get them out before I killed Yuri. No young child should have to witness such a thing.

With my peripheral vision I saw Patrick put himself in front of the girls, but he still hadn’t armed himself. Did he not have a knife? I could see Josie and Jenna huddled on the ground behind him, neither of them in any condition to run for safety. Patrick knew that, and, even though he had no weapon with which to defend them, he’d still put himself between them and danger.