I was searching the second floor of the abandoned office building by myself when the quiet that pervaded the building was shattered. The shot sounded like an explosion, and though it echoed loudly I knew it had come from above.
Patrick.
Knowing he couldn't die was only a small reassurance. I spun away from the room I was searching and darted up the stairs, disregarding my personal safety. It didn't even occur to me to be afraid for myself.
I reached the stairwell and screamed, “Toni!” but I didn't linger on the landing. I was pretty sure that—even in the basement—he would have heard the gunshot too. I grabbed the railing and leaped up the stairs, my backpack slamming against me with each huge step I took. I couldn't breathe—I couldn't think. I just needed to get to him.
I crashed into the third-story door and pulled it open. I stepped into the hall, suddenly hesitating, unsure of where to go. “Patrick?” I called out, not caring if anyone else heard me.
I took a step forward, moving for the first set of doors. I pulled the right door open and stuck my head inside, pushing the flashlight fiercely across the room. It was too quiet—this whole floor was too quiet. Had he already finished and moved on to the next floor?
“Patrick!” I called again, desperate for an answer. I darted back into the hall and checked the room opposite, somehow already certain he wouldn't be there.
“Patrick!”
I heard shuffling footsteps in the hall. I quickly turned around, stepping back into the hall, prepared to see Patrick. My flashlight lifted, and I let out a shaky breath and my insides tightened.
Now I felt fear for myself.
I was staring into the barrel of a gun. It was amazing how far away I was from the weapon and yet how large the hole seemed. It was held by a hunched man, and it was far from steady. He'd just emerged from the next door down the hallway and his eyes were focused right on me.
For an indefinite second, I thought he was going to say something. But his eyes revealed a lot. There was pain, despair, fear—a perfect match for his aura, which I could see. He wasn't hiding anything.
It was him—the Guardian. But why was he holding a gun? Why was he pointing it at me? Was he the one who'd fired the weapon? Had he shot Patrick?
My heart constricted. My lips parted as his compressed.
The Guardian aimed for my stomach. He closed his eyes tightly, and I knew he was going to shoot me.
I fell back into the room I'd just come from and heard the bullet discharge loudly. I couldn't stop the scream of fear and shock from ripping through my throat. I slammed the door and sagged against it, glancing around wildly, wondering where I could hide. A crazy Guardian was shooting at me, trying to kill me. Running was the only natural thing to do. I could hear his slow and shuffling footsteps, steadily stalking me.
I pointed the beam of light toward the longish storage room each office space seemed to have, and then I clicked the flashlight off. I stumbled a little through the darkness, but at least I knew it would be that much harder for the insane Guardian to see me. I had just closed the storage room door, shutting myself completely in the dark, when I heard the outer door open.
I could hear rasping breaths, labored steps.
I didn't dare breathe.
I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip, hating the suspense of this moment and wishing I hadn't put myself in a corner. Now all I could do was wait and squirm.
I listened to the Guardian cross the room, feet scraping along the floor like a zombie's.
And then I heard a voice in the hall. “Guys!” It was Toni. I decided to chance it, hoping Toni could move with a lot more alacrity than this haunted Guardian.
“Toni!” I screamed loudly, hurting my own ears in the confined space.
I heard footsteps, the dragging, thumping ones. But they weren't coming toward me. They were moving for the hall, growing faster, gaining speed out of desperation. I heard the door open and close, then a gunshot—and another.
I opened the storage room door, running for the outer door that was once again closed. I pushed it open cautiously, and someone grasped the outside handle and yanked it open quickly, jerking me out into the hall. I let out a small, strangled scream, but it was only Toni.
I stumbled, and he wrapped a steadying arm around me. “Are you all right?” he demanded.
My eyes widened when I saw his arm—it was covered in blood. “He shot you!” I gasped.
Toni grunted, following my gaze. “Yeah—but the bullet went right through, I'm fine—already healed. Where's Patrick?”
I shook my head quickly, pulling away. “I don't know. That Guardian—”
“He shot me, then ran down the stairs. I'm going to go after him, once we find Patrick.”
I opened my mouth, ready to tell him Patrick wasn't answering, that he might be on the next floor.
Then we both heard Patrick's wavering, pain-filled voice. “Kate!”
I pushed away from Toni and stepped further down the hall. “Patrick?” I stepped up to the open door the gun-crazy Guardian had come from and pushed myself inside. The smell nearly caused me to throw up, but I somehow ignored the uncomfortable tug on my stomach. Toni was right behind me, his flashlight slicing through the darkness.
My heart stopped when I saw him.
Patrick was lying just inside the lobby floor, gasping in pain, breathing shallowly into the cement. It looked like he'd been struggling to stand but had settled on dragging himself instead. One hand was groping for the door, and he lifted his head painfully, blinking into Toni's light.
“Patrick!” I darted across the floor, falling to my knees next to him. I was able to put a hand on his forehead before his head fell, which cushioned him from the cement floor. Toni came closer, his flashlight flickering over Patrick's prone body.
I touched the back of his head just before Toni cast light on the spot. My fingers were wet with blood; Patrick's hair was sticky with it. Again I fought the urge to retch.
“What happened?” I gasped. Toni knelt on his other side, and he pushed my hand away so he could get a better view of the wound.
“It's already healed,” Toni stated evenly. My heart started beating again. “But he must have been shot somewhere—the bullet's probably lodged inside, or he would have already recovered. Help me roll him over.”
I cradled his head and helped push his shoulder, although Toni did most of the lifting and shifting. Patrick groaned, and a huge grimace twisted his face. I reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Patrick? Patrick, you're going to be okay.”
“Kate,” he whispered blearily, his eyes unfocused.
Toni had picked up the flashlight he'd set aside while rolling Patrick over, and he now shined the light over Patrick's stomach, then up to his chest.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw all the blood.
“Kate,” Toni asked, glancing up at me. “How prepared were you exactly? A first aid kit, maybe? I can dig with my fingers, but that's gonna hurt him pretty bad.”
I pulled in a steadying breath and then gradually set Patrick's head back against the floor. I shrugged off my backpack, and with trembling fingers I jerked the zipper open. I fumbled around inside, finally finding the blue-and-white case with a red cross on top. I handed it to Toni, who opened it and began rummaging around inside. I pulled off my jacket, making a pillow for Patrick's head—I didn't care about bloodstains.
I brushed my fingers over his tense forehead, pushing his hair back. “Patrick, I'm here,” I whispered. “It's all right. You're going to be all right.”
His eyelids peeled back and his clear blue eyes found mine. “Kate,” he stated thinly. He swallowed painfully. “Are you all right? I heard—I heard the gun, your scream…”
“No, I'm fine. He missed.”
Toni found what he was looking for—some gauze and forceps.
I balked. “There's some anesthetic in there too.” I almost choked on the words.
Toni just shook his head. “M
edications don't work on us. It wouldn't do any good.” He held out the flashlight. “Hold this.”
I didn't take it right away. I could feel Patrick's weary eyes on my face, but the shock was wearing off, and I was beginning to realize what Toni was intending to do. “You can't take that bullet out. He needs a hospital.”
“No hospitals,” Toni protested. “We can't. Any damage I cause through inexperience will mend itself. That's the upside of being immortal.”
“You can't just operate on him without medicine by flashlight!”
“Kate,” Patrick whispered. “It's okay. Let him take it out.”
I looked down at his face, saw the pain there, and tears pricked my eyes. I didn't want to give in. I wanted him to be all right. I didn't want to see this. He was supposed to be the strong one. He wasn't supposed to get hurt.
Despite all the suffering he was going through, his eyes were understanding. “You don't have to stay,” he breathed. “I'll understand.”
I was tempted. But I realized that was only because I didn't want this to happen. Leaving him in his moment of need would be far worse than witnessing his pain.
“I'm staying,” I whispered.
Patrick smiled wearily, his feeble fingers twining with mine.
Toni held out the flashlight, and I took it with a trembling hand. I squeezed Patrick's fingers with my other hand, and I held the light for Toni while he unbuttoned Patrick's shirt. He pushed the folds back, and Patrick's body shuddered as Toni's cold fingertips searched for the bullet hole in the puddle of blood. When his fingers brushed over the wound Patrick groaned, his whole body tensing. I breathed in deeply and blinked back tears.
Toni also took a deep breath and then lifted the forceps. In seconds, he was pushing the instrument inside, digging around. Even a first-year medical student would have fainted from Toni's indelicacies.
Patrick moaned, and my eyes flickered up to his face. It was twisted in a lurid grimace, and his eyes were shut so tightly he must be seeing stars.
“Kate!” Toni called warningly, and I turned back and readjusted the light, which had faltered.
Patrick cried out and his fingers strangled mine. I bit my bottom lip and focused on keeping the light in place.
It was a long few minutes, agonizing for all of us.
And then—finally—Toni retracted the tightly clenched forceps, a bloody bullet pinched between the two metal arms. Patrick shivered violently, our joined hands clasped so tightly that my fingers felt numb.
I watched in sick amazement as the hole disappeared in front of my eyes. One second it was there—a hole in his shuddering body—and the next it had shrunk back to nothing. The blood remained, but the skin on his chest was completely unbroken.
I felt the tenseness leak out of him as the internal damage was repaired and his pain slowly lessened.
He let out a deep sigh, and his eyes opened. “Thanks, Toni,” he croaked.
Toni let out a thin laugh. “Sure. No problem. I do this every day.”
Patrick's eyes rolled up to mine, and he saw the tears on my face. “It's okay,” he breathed. “Kate, I'm going to be fine. I'm just tired. And a little dizzy.”
Toni dropped the blood-smeared bullet into the first aid kit, along with the stained forceps. “I'm going after that Guardian,” he said by way of explanation. He handed me the gauze and plastic box. “Wipe up the blood. Help him down to the car when you're finished here. And don't listen to him—he needs help. I'm going after that guy.”
I nodded, but Patrick interrupted weakly. “Toni, I don't know if that's a good idea. There's something seriously wrong with him. Do you smell that?”
“How could I not?” Toni grunted.
“Toni… as crazy as it sounds, I think he really is dying.”
Toni's eyes tightened. “That's impossible, Patrick.” “He shot me to keep me from touching him,” Patrick continued firmly. “There's no telling what he's capable of.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Call Jack. Tell him what's happened and ask his opinion. I think maybe we should take Terence's advice. Let him take care of it when he comes.”
“What if he hurts someone else?” I asked.
Patrick glanced over at me. “He was afraid. He just wanted to be alone. I think he wants to be alone when he dies.”
“Immortal people don't die,” Toni inserted stubbornly, still defying the implication.
“Demons do,” I offered thinly.
“That's different—they're Demons.” Toni sighed. “I'll call Jack. See what he thinks. That Guardian couldn't have gotten far—he was really hobbling.”
Toni stood, walking back into the smaller room Patrick had crawled from. He snatched up Patrick's dropped light, leaving us with the one I held. He pulled out his phone as he walked into the hall, quickly dialing Jack's number.
I blew out my breath through my mouth and released Patrick's hand so I could quickly swipe the back of my hand over my face, drying my tears. Using the gauze, I started sopping up the blood on his chest. I could feel Patrick's eyes on me, so I tried to keep a straight face. But when my finger slipped and blood smeared onto my skin, I felt myself go pale.
“Kate, I can do that,” Patrick whispered. He struggled into a sitting position, and I was too worn out to stop him. We sat facing each other, the flashlight practically on the ground, my hand had slumped so low.
He touched the back of his head, wincing deeply.
“Does it hurt?” I asked softly, knowing it was the dumbest question I'd ever asked.
He forced a shaky smile. “A bit. We're not exempt from headaches after an injury. Here.” He reached down, placing his hand over mine on his chest. “Let me do it. You've done enough.”
“You were shot,” I informed him.
“Says who?” he joked thinly.
“I don't see any hole…”
“That's not funny.”
“I'm not in any danger.”
“It's still not funny.”
He regarded me carefully, and finally I gave in and pulled my hand away, turning the task over to him. While he cleaned the blood off his chest, I found some more gauze and tried to clean the back of his head. But the blood was matted to his hair and not easy to get out. “You'll need a shower,” I said.
He chuckled. “That sounds good.”
“Do you guys even have a shower?”
“Sure. A hose, a bucket, and a sink. It works great.” His voice still sounded fragile, but it was perceptibly stronger. I allowed myself to relax a little more.
He was rebuttoning his bloody shirt when Toni reentered the room, and I helped him to stand so we could face the grim-looking Guardian. I held Patrick's arm, and he leaned on me a bit more than I expected he would.
“Well?” Patrick asked eagerly.
Toni shrugged. “Jack agrees with you. Says we gave it our best shot, and the Guardian doesn't want to be helped. All we can really do is wait for Terence. Jack's afraid if we keep cornering him, he'll get more dangerous. He might try hurting a human.”
Patrick's head drooped in a nod, but he regretted the movement instantly, if his deep wince was any indication.
Toni flinched sympathetically. “Dude, we need to get you home. You hit your head pretty hard.”
Patrick wasn't arguing.
Toni gathered up the supplies I'd brought, stuffing them all in the open backpack. I helped balance Patrick, and Toni led the way out, holding my jacket gingerly by one hand.
Back out in the open air, we all seemed to breathe easier. Getting away from that stench had done us wonders. The homeless people gave us a few looks, but nothing more. It was probably too dark for them to see the blood, let alone the bullet hole in Patrick's shirt, which was good for all of us. Patrick handed Toni the keys, and Toni unlocked the doors. I helped Patrick slide into the backseat, following close behind him.
“Toni, hand me the jacket,” I said, stopping him before he could chuck it into the dumpster. He passed it to me wit
hout a word, and I made a pillow for the back of Patrick's head to keep blood from smearing on the upholstery.
Patrick leaned back gratefully, and I pulled the door closed and turned back to face him. “Can I get you anything?” I asked, holding his hand tightly.
“Did you bring any water?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Toni opened the driver's door and climbed inside, setting the backpack on the passenger seat. He started the car, and I asked him to pass me the bag. He handed it back, and I released Patrick's hand so I could unzip it and search inside. Toni shifted the car into gear, and we pulled back onto the narrow street, heading back for the more populated part of the city.
“So,” I said, making thin conversation to distract us all. “Guardians get thirsty?”
Toni answered. “We can't die of thirst, if that's what you're getting at. We can't die, period. But our mouths get dry, just like a human. We don't get dehydrated or anything, but a cool glass of water is nice on a warm day.”
I pulled out one of the water bottles and twisted it open. “Well, I don't know how cool it is at this point, but…” I handed it to Patrick, who took it gratefully. He sipped slowly and then leaned back against the seat, his head perched up on the jacket.
I took the bottle from him, putting the lid back on as I watched him carefully. He noticed my vulture-like stare, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. “Relax, Kate. I'm not dying. I just need some rest. I'll be fine tomorrow.”
“You're not coming to school,” I told him firmly, reaching for his hand once more. “You have some really good reasons to stay home and sleep.” I glanced toward the front of the car. “Toni?”
“Right,” he called from the front, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. “I won't let him leave. A day's rest will do you good after these past couple days, Patty.”
Patrick sighed. “I guess I've been outvoted.”
“Yep,” I whispered, leaning in to lay a kiss on his temple. I curled up next to him, and he leaned wearily against me.
Toni turned on the radio softly and tried to give us some privacy. But his Peeping Tom glances every minute or so ruined the facade. Once we were back on the highway, Toni seemed to give up, and he focused completely on the road. I wanted to kiss Patrick—really kiss him—but he was lightly dozing at this point, his head slumped against my shoulder. And so I just held his hand and traced my fingers over his arm, grateful to know that no matter what happened, he'd always be safe.
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