Demons

by Heather Frost

  Not that it made me sleep any easier. Picturing him in pain was pure torment, even if I'd almost completely assured myself that he wasn't dying.

  Until I remembered Clyde, the Demon who'd heard a rumor… Guardians dying… Surely there were too many coincidences. There had to be some truth to what Clyde had said.

  I wanted to know what Terence thought. Strange, how just yesterday morning I'd been more interested in asking Terence about my weird mind-reading moment with Grandma. Now, Patrick's health was all that mattered.

  It took five minutes to explain to Grandma why my boyfriend's car was parked in our driveway. No, he wasn't here. Yes, it was his car. No, he hadn't been feeling well—he asked me to drive. Yes, I'd dropped him off at his house. Yes, I'd take it back sometime today…

  Once she left, I settled back onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was far too early to call Patrick, and I knew that I'd be alone with my thoughts for another couple hours at least. Besides, if he was sleeping, I needed to let him get rest. Toni would call me if something happened, and if nothing else, Patrick had promised to call me in the morning.

  I wasn't alone for long. Grandpa came in next, toothbrush in hand, face chagrined. “I saw his car out the window, Kate. Where is he? You better tell me that he isn't here…”

  I sighed wearily and pushed myself back into a sitting position. “No, he's not here…”

  I basically told him the same things I'd told Grandma. Only this time, I added a lot more truth. I told him a little bit about the party—leaving out all details of drunk football players and backyard brawls. I stuck to the important details. Like telling him about Patrick throwing up—twice within ten minutes. The story came pouring out at that point. How Patrick believed he was infected with some illness he'd contracted from the insane Guardian, and how I believed that it was the same sickness Clyde had heard about.

  By the time it was finally all out—down to the part about me going over there as soon as Terence got in—Grandpa looked extremely worried. “Kate, Patrick is right. Maybe he's just not contagious yet. Until we know more, you need to keep your distance.”

  After everything I'd told him about Patrick, he was worried about me?

  “Grandpa, don't you understand? We need to talk to Clyde. Follow up on this rumor. Maybe we can learn something helpful.”

  He was shaking his old head. “Kate, that's just not possible. He told us everything he knew. He always does. Clyde can't help us.”

  “Then what are we supposed to do?” I demanded.

  He sighed. “I don't know. But until we learn more… I really feel that you should stay away from Patrick.”

  “I can't do that.”

  “Kate, don't be immature and melodramatic.”

  “I'm not.”

  “Yes, you are,” he insisted.

  “Considering all that's happened, I'd say I'm pretty calm and collected.” I nodded to his toothbrush. “Go finish getting ready. I'm going to try and get a little more sleep, okay?”

  He wanted to argue. That was clear in his overwhelmingly green aura. But for the moment he listened to me, giving up the fight for now. He left me alone, closing my door softly as he retreated to the hall.

  I lay back down, stared up at the ceiling, and waited for Patrick to call.

  At nine, I pushed my way out of bed, quickly dressed, and then finally, unable to stall any longer, I snatched up my phone.

  Toni answered on the third ring. “Yo, Kate. I knew you'd be up. Patty told me last night to let you sleep, but… I'm betting you've been pacing around for a while now.”

  “How is he?” I asked tensely, hoping that my nerves would negate any edge that might be construed as rudeness.

  Toni sighed deeply, sounding more serious than I'd ever heard him. “Not so good. He was throwing up half the night, but I think his stomach's finally empty. We should be past the worst of that now, because I've grounded him from food forever.”

  “Is he sleeping?”

  “Yeah—for almost two hours straight now, a new record.” He hesitated, but the delay was transient. “Kate, I'm not gonna lie. I'm freaking out.”

  “Have you heard from Terence?”

  “Yeah, he checked in this morning. I didn't dare tell him about Patrick over the phone—we try not to talk about too many sensitive things—but I think he got the drift that we need to see him as soon as possible. He'll be here around five, but I suggest you come late. Unless you want to be chewed out for dismissing direct orders.”

  “I never got the orders, so technically…”

  He laughed a little too much at the poor joke, but I didn't call him on it.

  “Toni, I'm coming over.”

  “Um… Patrick would really appreciate it if you didn't. Besides, you can't do anything right now. Heck, none of us can.”

  “I can't just sit here all day, doing nothing.”

  “Sweep a floor or something.”

  My head suddenly bowed, my voice turning into a whisper. “Do you really think he's got some rare illness? Is he really in danger of…?” I couldn't croak out the final word.

  His voice was an unpretentious murmur. “Kate, you know I can't answer that.”

  “Just give me your opinion, please.”

  “I think that taking some precautions can't hurt. If he does have something, he hasn't given it to me. I'm pretty sure of that. Does my health ruin his theory? I don't think so.” He sighed, and I could imagine an accompanying shrug. “Be prepared, as the saying goes…”

  “How can you prepare for something that's supposed to be impossible?”

  “Is that, like, a rhetorical question?” His voice became more firm and soothing. In an instant he changed from fellow worrier to protecting Guardian. “I got this, all right? You can't do anything for him, and you and I both know that he wouldn't rest with you here. So just chill with the fam, okay? I'll call you if anything changes, and I'll just plan on seeing you around five thirty.”

  “Toni…”

  “I know. I'd kiss him for you, but it wouldn't be quite the same.”

  I didn't even acknowledge his attempt at humor. My voice was laced with worry. “Just… just please take care of him.”

  “I'm on it. I'll have him call you when he wakes up.”

  “Thanks, Toni.”

  “Sure. Buh-bye now.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “Good-bye.”

  “I hear that grin…”

  “You've got a gift.”

  “Darn straight I do… and Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  An infinitesimal pause. Then, “Don't just spend the day freaking out, okay? He wouldn't want that.”

  “Sure. Right. I'll just toss all the worry out the window…”

  “We don't even know that… Okay, that was dumb. Something's wrong, obviously. But don't start planning for a flash flood when it could be a little cloud burst, all right?”

  “Um, I think you should stick to jokes and steer away from the attempt at proverbs.”

  “Think so?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Sheesh. I can take a hint.”

  The banter was incredibly light, and though our voices still held tightly to our fears, the joking felt good. If only for a moment.

  We said our good-byes once more and I released a long, pent-up sigh while I closed my phone.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Patrick called around eleven. He spent the first full minute apologizing for calling so late and for causing me to worry unduly. I admit, I laughed at him for that one. But it was an insubstantial laugh, and he knew it.

  We didn't talk long. He assured me that he was feeling better but that he was still tired. He planned on getting a bit more sleep before Terence's visit. I told him I loved him—he returned the words to me but as always with more feeling. I guess living for two centuries could really add depth to a person.

  After Patrick ended the call, I took my book out on the front porch to read. I reclined bac
k on the small, white bench, a pillow cushioning my back.

  My bruised body actually didn't hurt all that bad, despite being slammed to the ground by a football player last night. My side still ached where his elbow had dug sharply against my ribs, but a gingerly conducted investigation assured me that nothing was horribly damaged. My wrist ached too where Micah had pulled it, but I was quite sure the injury wasn't serious.

  Truthfully, the only reason I took an inventory in the first place was to distract myself from my obvious fears. It didn't work great but better than some things. Like trying to read on the front porch, for example.

  Aaron called me at two, curious if Patrick was feeling better and to make sure I was okay. We ended up talking for almost an hour, for lack of anything better for me to do. And having a relatively normal conversation with Aaron, well… it felt nice. We talked about the party, but only in the beginning. The conversation shifted to school, Lee's Rainbow Days, and sketchy college plans. Nothing serious. It was a good distraction, and when I thanked him for calling, I'm sure my fervency leaked through.

  After talking to Aaron, I went inside for a late lunch. Sundays were pretty relaxed around the house, and so I knew it would take only a well-placed lie or two to convince Grandma to let me visit Patrick. She sort of drew the conclusion that I was going to eat Sunday dinner with his parents, and I didn't bother to dissuade her from thinking that. Honestly, it was better than I could have come up with.

  I took Toni's advice, though only heaven knows why. I waited until my bedroom clock said 5:20 before picking up my purse and the keys to the Altima and heading out the door. Jenna was at the piano, and she glanced up as I walked past. But that was all the resistance I met. My sister didn't even bother to mouth a good-bye. I was out the front door, in Patrick's car, heading down the street before anyone could have stopped me.

  I drove a little too quickly to the warehouse, arriving just a couple minutes earlier than Toni had suggested. Close enough. I turned into the appropriate alley, but was momentarily surprised when I saw a silver Nissan Altima parked in the spot my car usually claimed. I guess some Guardian knew someone who dealt with Nissans. It was my best explanation for the general use of the same type of vehicle.

  I pulled past the parked silver car, then turned around the corner and into the smaller alley, guiding the car quickly and carefully into the open garage. By the time I'd switched off the car and climbed out, I wasn't alone in the garage anymore.

  Toni was just wandering inside, a weary smile on his face, his thumbs snagged in his pockets, leaving the rest of his fingers to dangle free. It was a lazy pose, but his tense shoulders ruined the facade. “Hey, you're a bit early.”

  “I feel late,” I admitted, tossing the keys at him.

  He lashed out a hand and caught them as they fell, bouncing them on his palm once before shoving them into his pocket. “You haven't missed much. Patrick's been sleeping on and off all day. Puking all night wore him out.”

  I grimaced unthinkingly, and he took the last step toward me, offering me a comforting hug.

  I leaned against his strong chest, closed my eyes, and ordered myself to relax. His warm arms were soothing, and breathing became easier almost immediately.

  He pulled back, and I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Toni.”

  He nodded once, and by silent agreement, we began our brief walk to the side door of the warehouse. “Terence got here right on time,” he informed me as calmly as if we were discussing the weather. “He knew something was off as soon as he saw Patrick on the couch, and the story came out pretty fast after that.”

  “Was he upset?”

  “That we disobeyed him? Pretty much. But he feels worse than we do. He's giving Patrick a physical now.”

  “Terence is a doctor?”

  “Not medical. He used to be some biologist, though, so if that counts…”

  “I'm not sure that it does.”

  I wondered if Terence knew anything about the rumor Clyde had heard. Was he checking Patrick for certain signs? Did he know what was wrong with him? And more important, did he know what to do to make him better again?

  Toni led the way up to their mock apartment, and I was a mere step behind the whole way. I'd heard so much about Terence, I felt like I already knew him somehow. But his appearance was still a mystery to me. I knew his voice because of his strange call that had happened so long ago. Had it really been only a week? So much had happened. Would the real Terence match the personality and image I'd created in my mind?

  I was about to find out. We were at the second floor. Toni twisted the doorknob, and I stepped into the makeshift living room after him. The familiar room had two large differences that I noticed right away.

  The older-looking man standing in front of the couch was new. He was wearing a nice gray suit, and his silver hair was combed over neatly. The silver aura marked him as a Guardian, and I knew this was Terence. Though I couldn't see his face initially, I already knew that he was different from what I'd been imagining. I don't know exactly what I'd thought a Terence should look like. Geeky with greasy brown hair? Maybe some acne scars? Certainly not a refined-looking business man, or possibly even a government official.

  His back was to us, and though he must have heard us enter, he wasn't going to let that break his concentration.

  He was crouched over the couch, partially blocking whatever he was doing. Or rather, the person sitting on the couch. This was the second thing I noticed, though it held my attention a lot more firmly than my first glimpse of Terence had.

  Patrick wasn't wearing a shirt. His pajama bottoms were securely in place, but he had removed his shirt for Terence's rudimentary examination, and the sight of his pale and muscular chest almost had me blinking in surprise. It was so perfectly sculpted and toned—matching his long arms perfectly. I mean, I knew his body was hard with muscle. I'd felt that in every embrace. But to actually see it… To view the evidence of his strength was a new experience for me.

  Patrick's head was ducked, his longish light-brown hair falling into his eyes. He was struggling to breathe normally, and Terence was counting the beats of Patrick's heart with two fingers laid against the inside of Patrick's wrist. Patrick breathed; Terence counted each pulse, his spare hand gripping Patrick's bare shoulder in a secure but somehow comforting hold.

  I hesitated just inside the room, and Toni closed the door behind me before stepping forward to stand at my side.

  Patrick glanced up, finally reacting to the sound of our coming.

  I tried not to look shocked by what I saw, but I don't know that I succeeded.

  His eyes were rimmed by dark circles, and his skin was ashen. He was trembling minutely, as if the warm day still managed to chill him. His gaze focused on me easily, but holding it there was another battle, which he struggled to win.

  His taut lips forced a thin smile, but I could see the intense emotions in his blue eyes—the emotions that registered my pain, and were tortured by it. He didn't want me feeling sorry for him and his suffering.

  Fat chance, I wanted to tell him.

  “Keep the breaths even,” Terence cautioned him, still ignoring me and Toni. His voice was kind, but it was obvious he was worried. Patrick dragged his eyes away from mine, finding it easier to stare at the floor. But before his face dipped from my view, I saw the fear that he'd been trying so desperately to hide.

  Still gauging Patrick's heartbeats, Terence spoke again. “When did the headache first show up?”

  Patrick was slow to answer, as if this was the most important question in the world and it couldn't be rushed. “Wednesday morning. It's only increased in intensity since then.”

  “When did the vomiting begin?”

  “Last night. I'd been feeling nauseated all day. I thought it was a by-product of the headache. I wasn't overly worried about it.”

  Terence nodded once to himself. Though I couldn't see his face, I could sense his disquiet from here, his apprehension.

  No, I rea
lized a second too late. Not apprehension, or even worry. Resignation? As if something he'd been fearing had just been affirmed?

  Terence let his fingers fall, and he straightened. “You can put your shirt back on,” he said, pulling off the latex gloves that coated his hands. While Patrick reached for the discarded shirt lying on the couch, Terence finally turned around to face us, and I got my first look at the supervising Guardian who oversaw the safety and effectiveness of all the Guardians in the area.

  His face was surprisingly weathered, and I was once again confused by his age. Patrick had told me once that most Guardians were young, mostly because when older people died, they were more connected to other people. They'd formed relationships and were more loathe to part with friends and family and become Guardians. It made sense to me, but Terence must have been an exception.

  He looked to be in his late fifties, early sixties. Younger than my grandpa, though not considerably. He looked stronger than my grandfather—more fit, more sturdy. His hair was mostly silver and white but had some remaining dark streaks that would never leave, now that he no longer aged. He looked refined, trustworthy. Someone who wouldn't steer you wrong. His eyes were a dark blue and set against his tan skin and white hair, the contrast was handsome in a debonair way, and I found myself wondering what could have possessed Patrick and the others to ignore his orders. Such a kind and compassionate man must have a reason for every command. Why hadn't they listened?

  Boys.

  His smile was warm when he saw me, despite the lingering uneasiness in his eyes. “Ah, you must be Kate. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.” He stepped toward me, and soon enough we were shaking hands.