The Guardian (18 page)

“I hope my man Seth here is behaving himself.”

“Seth is the perfect gentleman,” I affirm, struggling to calm my hyperactive heartbeat.

Joshua’s
shaggy blonde hair curls above his eyebrows. He’s such a departure from Seth: lighter, skinnier, younger.

Seth rolls his eyes, reaching for his shirt, muscles rippling as he moves. “Tell us why you’re here and get lost.”

“I’m on my way out.
Just finished
up at the beach.
Some surfer went under. They called in reinforcements.” He shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Some surfer?”
I repeat.

“Yeah.
A girl.
There was a group out today. No one’s sure what happened. It took like, twenty minutes b
efore we found her.”

“That sucks,” I mumble, glancing at Seth, whose expression is serious.  

“Tell me about it. The waves aren’t even bad today. You should’ve seen me, though.
The way I dove right into the water.
I was like a
freakin
’ fish. I mean, no on
e could see me, but I was awesome.”

Seth ignores him. “There was no current? No rip tide?
Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Joshua confirms. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

“What are they saying?”

“Some think it was an accident.
That the girl couldn’t swim good or som
ething.
Ask me what I think.”

“What do you think?” he asks, hesitating.

“Foul play.
For sure.”

“Wait a minute,” I break in. “
Foul play
?” My eyes travel back and forth between Seth and Joshua. “You mean like, someone did it on purpose?”

“Or some
thing
,” Josh
ua emphasizes.

“All right, man. Thanks for the information. Now get out.”

Joshua scoffs. “Can’t a man hang with his friends?”

I smile. “Joshua, you’re welcome here any time,” I say.

His face lights up.

“No you’re not,” Seth argues.

“Yes. You are. And I’m s
orry about last time. You don’t look like you’re twelve.”

Joshua fades around the edges. “Thanks, Gen. I knew I liked you.” In the next moment, he’s gone.

I turn back to Seth. We lie there, facing each other for the longest time. He watches me, eyes intens
e.

“What’s wrong?” I finally ask.

“Nothing.”

“Something’s bothering you. Is it us? Is this wrong?”

“Yes. It’s wrong, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Oh. Is it about what Joshua said?”

Seth presses his lips together tightly.

“It is,” I confirm. “
I don’t get it. Why can’t we just write this off as some kind of accident? Why does it have you so concerned?”

“Because sometimes accidents . . . aren’t really accidents.”
He inhales and exhales slowly before continuing. “Remember when I said that there wa
s a battle going on? Good versus evil?”

I nod.

“Everyone has a Guardian that protects them. But for every good thing that’s being done, there are those out there who are undoing it.”

“So you think that an evil . . . .
something
was responsible for today?”

“We call them
Diabols
, or the Evil Ones, but yeah, it’s a possibility.
And always in the back of our minds.
We outnumber them. There are three of us for every one of them. But they’re strong. And evil spreads. Like wildfire. Once they start they’re almos
t impossible to stop.”

“But good always prevails, right?”

Seth runs his fingers through his dark brown hair, and shakes his head. “I’d like to say yes, but . . . that’s not always the case. They don’t quit. They’re like a cancer. They’re relentless. And a
s long as they’re around, they’re causing trouble.”

“These
Diabols
,
or whatever . . .”

“I guess they’re what you would consider a demon,” he interrupts.

“Okay.
These demons.
How do you get rid of them?”

“That’s the problem. Unless they’re in their human fo
rm, we can’t. The best we can do is
try
to prevent them from doing evil in the first place, lessen the blow, or help pick up the pieces.”

I’d never considered attributing the evil in the world to an almost unstoppable force. I just assumed there were ugly
people in the world.
Ugly people who did unforgivable things.
The idea that they were possibly being pushed toward evil. . . .

“Wait.
The accident?
And that car that almost hit me? Could that have been . . . ,” I trail off, unable to finish, because the th
ought that evil people—these things—were out for blood—my blood, even. . . . I swallow hard, a wave of nausea passing over me.

“It’s possible,” Seth answers. “
Which is why we have to be on guard at all times.
” A long minute passes. “There’s something else,
too,” he goes on, breaking the silence. He presses his fingers into his temples. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.” He heaves a deep sigh, straight from his chest.

“What?” I urge him to go on.

“They’re talking about you.”

My pulse quickens. “W
hat? Who’s talking about me?”

“The Guardians.”

“Why?”

“It seems . . . they think you might be useful.
To us.”

“I’m not following,” I say, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Your visions.
Your
. . . predictions. There’s
talk
that maybe you can work with us. To help
us eliminate some of the
Diabols
’ work before it gets out of hand.”

“Really?”

“I’ve tried to tell them that you don’t even know when you’re going to get them. Or what they’re going to be about.”

I snap to attention. “Wait.
You
what
?”

“I told them that it
’s not predictable.”

“But what if it is?” I ask him. “What if I can work on it? What if I can help?”

He bolts upright.
A panicked expression crossing his face, fear flashing in his eyes.
“Are you kidding me? Don’t even say—don’t even
think
that!”

“What?”

A cold, nearly murderous anger consumes him. “Do you realize what would happen to you?” he asks, voice rising. “How much danger you would be in? Do you actually think I’m going to let them put you in the middle of all this?”

I sit up. “If I remember cor
rectly, that’s not your responsibility.”

He wipes his eyes with the palms of his hands, his habit of choice, a physical sign of his internal unease. “I should’ve never said anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” he mumbles, laughing bitterly.

“I don’t
understand. If they think I could be useful. . . . I mean, there must be some kind of reason I’m seeing this stuff, right? What if it’s for a greater purpose?”

“Genesis, this battle has been going on since the beginning of time. Nothing you can do could p
ossibly help.”

I scoff, eyes narrowing. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“This is
real
, Genesis. It’s dangerous. And once word gets out . . . you’re going to be the target,
if
you’re not already.”

I
suck
in a lungful of air and hold it. “You don’t kno
w that.” But my voice comes out smaller, quieter than I’d like, dispelling my air of tenacity.

“I do know that,” he mutters. “I have a hard enough time protecting you as it is. I don’t need legions of angry demons making my work any harder.”

“I thought I
wasn’t just a job.”

“You’re not just a job,” he says. “
Which is why it’s important that you forget I said any of this.
Promise me, Genesis. Promise that you won’t give it another thought.” His eyes are pleading, and for a moment I find myself drowning in t
hem. I fight to look away. “I can’t lose you.”

“It’s not like I can control the predictions, anyway,” I mumble, half under my breath.

Seth hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me closer to him, planting a soft kiss on my temple, my eyelid, my cheekbone.
“Without you, there’s no reason for me to exist.”

I watch his mouth as he
speaks,
focusing on the way his lips move—feeling them everywhere, heart fluttering in anticipation as I slowly lean in to kiss him.

T
WENTY

My mom and Mike stumble through the door long after Seth and I moved to the living room to watch television. They seem happy: voices loud and laughter light. Mom is still in her work clothes, but they must’ve gone to dinner, or to a bar, maybe. Even in the
doorway, Mike reeks of alcohol. She settles down when she realizes I’m not alone.

“Genesis?”

I fly off the worn, saggy couch, smoothing my shorts and my tank top, trying to appear less rumpled—like I haven’t been lying around all afternoon.
“Yeah.
Mom.
This is Seth. Seth, this is my mom.” He stands beside me, and suddenly I’m aware of how broad he is, how tall.

She hesitates, but only for a moment. “Nice to meet you,” she says.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Genesis has told me a lot about you.”

“Hmm.”
She smiles. I can almost hear the wheels in her head spinning, wondering:
then why do I know nothing about you?
“So . . . how do you two know each other?” she asks.

“Oh, we just sort of ran into . . . ,” I begin.

“School,” Seth declares at the exact same t
ime.

I swallow hard. Mom looks back and forth between us, her eyes probing,
lips
pressed in a tight line.

I clear my throat. “What he means is,” I say, glancing at Seth, “that we met at school previously . . . but then we sort of ran into each other.”

“I
went there,” Seth adds.
“To school.
Like Genesis.” He coughs into his fist.

“The same school,” I clarify.

“Really?”
She eyes us suspiciously.

“We were just hanging out,” I explain.

“Sounds like fun.” Mom fully enters the room. “This is Mike,” she says,
introducing him to Seth. Mike has barely made it inside. He still stands at the entryway, leaning against the door.
Pathetic drunk.

Mom heads into the kitchen, reaching for her ears, removing the large silver hoops dangling from them.

“I guess I should he
ad out,” Seth announces.

“No need to rush off,” Mom calls.

“No, it’s okay. I have some things to do.”

“I’ll walk you outside,” I say.

We move for the door, passing Mike on our way. “It was nice meeting you,” he calls.

I follow him out the front door and
into the night. The air is warm and moist and it dampens my skin. A gentle wind blows in off the ocean. I step onto the cool, wet grass. The blades poke at my bare feet.

“That was awkward. I’m sorry.” I wrap my arms across my chest, trying to rid them of t
he goose bumps that prick the surface.

He smiles. “We probably should’ve gotten our story straight ahead of time.”

“I know, right?” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t even think about it. I didn’t think this far in advance, even. I mean, us hanging out. In real
lif
e,
and all.”

“In real life?”
His eyebrow raises, perplexed.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, not really.”

I inhale. “I mean, you being here.
The physical you.
Not
the you
that hides in the shadows and stalks me.” I pause for a
moment, trying to determine what, exactly, I’m trying to say. “Okay, I wasn’t implying that your life isn’t ‘real.’ It’s just that your real is obviously different from my real, and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re hanging out, it’s just that it’s a litt
le on the strange side.” I shrug. “So far you’ve been like . . . a great secret.”