Demons

by Heather Frost

  “Terence,” I said, feeling a little weird using his first name. “It's good to meet you too. I've heard a lot about you.”

  I waited to see something in his eyes—anything that would betray the fact that we'd already spoken to each other on the phone. But if he was thinking about that, or our private meeting he was obviously saving for later, it didn't register in his expression. “I've heard a lot about you as well. You've had to deal with an unusual amount of Demon problems for being such a young Seer. You must be resourceful and brave to have withstood it all unscathed.”

  “I just have really great Guardians,” I argued delicately.

  His smile widened just a little, and he dropped my hand to view Toni. “So, Antonio, you still haven't learned to knock?”

  Toni shrugged. “Force of habit, I guess. At least I've stopped using windows. Mostly.”

  “Don't worry about it. We were just finishing up,” Patrick said, and we all turned to watch him stand slowly, tugging the hem of his shirt down as he did so. Once he was standing and fully clothed, he focused on our faces, and a small smile stretched his mouth. “You all look like you're staring at a ghost.”

  I was crossing the room before he'd finished speaking, and he stepped around the table to meet me. I slid my arms around his waist, and he pulled me close against his chest, tucking my head beneath his chin. His hands stroked my back, and though he tried to disguise weakness for gentleness, I could tell the difference.

  “Thank you for coming,” he whispered, low enough in my hair that I thought I was the only one who heard.

  “I wouldn't be anywhere else,” I returned seriously, twisting my head up so I was able to glimpse his wan face.

  He responded by bending his lips to mine, and we kissed briefly, my hand skirting up his body to rest high against his neck. My fingers brushed against his cheek, along his jaw, and one of his hands rose to mirror my actions. Somehow his fingertips tingling across my skin seemed much more powerful. I closed my eyes fluidly, reveling in his sensitive touch, and then Toni cleared his throat awkwardly, ending the moment.

  Patrick's breath stuttered in a thin laugh that bordered between embarrassment and annoyance, and then the warmth of his face retreated from mine, and we were only holding hands, both of us facing our audience.

  Terence looked mildly shocked, but he hid it well enough that we could ignore it. We didn't have to explain our relationship. Yet.

  Toni just rolled his eyes at us, but his usual joking manner wasn't present in the sarcastic action. I think it was his small way of keeping the tentative calm from shattering around us, and I was grateful for that.

  “So,” Toni said suddenly, realizing that we were all looking at him by now. “What's the verdict, Terence? Do you know what's wrong with Patrick?”

  Terence's shoulders seemed to drop, but none of us missed it. We were watching him like his words would declare whether we lived or died. Which, I guess, was a pretty fair way of looking at things. “I think you should all sit down,” he said. Famous earth-shattering words.

  Patrick's fingers tightened around mine—as if it was his job to brace me— and he pulled me back toward the couch. Toni moved around the other side of the dinged-up coffee table, and in seconds the three of us were sitting on the lumpy cushions—me in the middle, a tense Guardian on each side.

  Terence remained standing, the table between us. His dark-blue eyes were watching us closely, measuring our ability to digest the coming information.

  This was going to be bad.

  His eyes finally went to Patrick's alone, and the words came out deliberately so he wouldn't have to repeat a thing. “It isn't the Guardian way to keep secrets. But I've been keeping one for a while now. It's time that you knew.”

  Patrick's free hand shifted unconsciously, so my hand was cradled between both of his, balanced on my knee.

  Terence breathed in deeply, then released his breath slowly. Finally, he spoke. “Your illness, Patrick—this isn't the first time I've seen it. Several Guardians along the West Coast have gotten sick as well. We were trying to keep it quiet because it seemed so isolated. You're the furthest case inland we've had. We didn't realize that you might be in danger.”

  Toni's voice was incredulous. “When you told us to stay away from that Guardian, did you know that he was infected?”

  “No, of course not,” Terence said quickly, looking wounded that Toni had even reached that conclusion. “If I'd have known, I would have warned you of the danger. As things were, I had enough reasons for you to keep your distance. It isn't good for morale to see fellow Guardians regret the course of their lives. I'm sure you understand.” His eyes darted to each of ours, seeking silent forgiveness.

  Patrick's voice was perfectly even, controlled. “Am I a danger to you? To Toni?”

  Terence shook his head quickly. “Whatever this is, only some Guardians seem susceptible. Many of us appear to be immune, at least to this strain of the virus. I've been exposed repeatedly and never fallen ill.” He nodded to Toni. “I think it's safe to assume that you are also immune.”

  Toni's head dipped once, and he hurried to ask the question I knew Patrick wanted answered, but was afraid to ask. “What about humans? What about Kate?”

  The lead Guardian shook his head quickly. “It seems that humans are completely safe from whatever it is. They can't contract it. Seers included.”

  Patrick's head bowed gratefully, but I wasn't ready to relax. The most important question had yet to be addressed. “These other Guardians,” I started haltingly. “You were able to help them, right?”

  Terence didn't answer right away, and Patrick's head smoothly lifted until all three of us were staring hard. Terence spoke quietly. “The first infected Guardian we found… he'd gone missing a week before, but we thought little of it. There was no reason to suspect he'd been taken against his will, and I knew he had been struggling with depression lately.” He looked to me, trying to explain. “Some Guardians regret their choices, and it's not unheard of for them to disappear for a while. They like to be alone. He called me early one morning—he sounded terrible. He asked me to come pick him up at a gas station in Southern California. I went immediately. He couldn't tell me much. His memories of being imprisoned were hazy and dark. He remembered being injected with something by a beautiful Hispanic woman.”

  “Selena Avalos,” Toni muttered.

  Terence nodded lightly but didn't stop in his explanation. “We have since confirmed her involvement. I took him back with me to headquarters. He complained of headaches, he was tired and cold, and he deteriorated with every passing day. I called in everyone I could, but… we couldn't save him. By then we'd gotten calls from other Guardians, seeking help in their sickness. All had similar stories of kidnapping, shots, and cloudy memories of Ms. Avalos.”

  “So… this is a biological attack by the Demons?” Toni struggled to understand. “They've found a way to kill us?”

  “They're still working to perfect it, or so it would seem. Statistically, I think most of us are immune.” Terence paused, waiting to see if we had any more immediate questions. When none of us spoke, he continued grimly. “During the process of trying to help the sick Guardians, we learned that it can be transferred through touch. We learned that the hard way, of course. The virus seems to attack whatever cells cause our regeneration. In a literal way, it destroys our bodies so rapidly that our natural healing abilities can't keep up. The organs and tissues gradually give out after being fractionally healed again and again. The brain becomes overwhelmed. It's a painful way to go, I'm afraid.”

  “But you've been able to fashion a cure, right?” Toni asked. “I mean… you've found something, haven't you?”

  Terence didn't answer right away.

  He didn't have to answer at all.

  Patrick and I had both stopped breathing.

  Terence forced himself to say the words out loud. “No. We've found no cure. No way to halt the process. Once it has begun… I don't know if it
's even possible to recover after what the body is put through. Of course we're still trying. Four sick Guardians, each in a different stage, are being monitored as we speak. We're doing everything we can. But though we have some of the top scientific minds at work… we're beginning to realize that the Demons must have someone better.”

  Patrick suddenly spoke, his voice quiet. “How long do I have?”

  The lead Guardian hesitated. “It's hard to say. Some were dead in a matter of days, but they were the ones that the Demons personally injected. Most fought the illness for about a week. The longest survivor lasted just over two weeks, from the initial touch.”

  We all did the easy math in an eternal second.

  Patrick had until next Tuesday, at the longest.

  I felt like my entire body was being crushed. I couldn't breathe, and I think my heart actually stopped beating under the pressure. It was too much to take in, the implications too frightening to consider.

  Terence's voice was quiet, but the words weren't lost to any of us. “Once the nosebleeds begin… it isn't long. They usually begin soon after the vomiting ends. It's the next sure marker. Once they start… it's down to mere days, sometimes hours. The destructive rate seems to vary with each Guardian, though. Sometimes a cough is involved, after the nosebleeds start.”

  Patrick repeated his question, the desperate edge he'd been struggling to hide permeating each syllable. “How long do I have, Terence? Your best guess?”

  “I can't be sure, but… judging from your history, I wouldn't be surprised if the nosebleeds start in the next couple of days. You don't appear to have an accelerated strain, but you're not moving slowly either. You've already lasted almost a week. Based on my experience, most of your time is already up. You'll deteriorate more rapidly now.” I knew the words were hard for him to say, but I don't know how he still managed to relay them so calmly.

  I finally found my voice, though it was irresolute despite my best efforts. “But Guardians can't die,” I protested, still clinging to that ridiculous truth. “Where would they go? Beings don't just cease to exist.”

  If Terence hadn't looked tired and slightly fearful before, he did now. “That has been one of my greatest concerns. From what I've been able to gather from our sources, they're not showing up in heaven.”

  “Sources?” I asked, confused. Guardians had access to heaven? That was certainly news to me.

  Terence explained quickly. “When a person dies, they spend a brief time on the other plane—like a halfway house—on their way to heaven. If they choose to become a Guardian, they can bring back messages from the other side when they return to earth. These message carriers are our connection to heaven.”

  I nodded once, showing I'd understood.

  Terence continued at once. “They don't appear to be given the choice again either, so I assumed that maybe they're like Seers—not given the choice at all. After all, it made sense to me. Guardians sacrifice so much; they shouldn't be required to give more, just like a Seer. But since they're not turning up in heaven, we really don't know what's happening to them.”

  “They just… disappear?” Toni demanded, askance.

  “That's the theory for now,” Terence admitted.

  I wasn't breathing again. Because something Terence had said, it just didn't compute. Not initially, anyway. At first I thought some new fear for Patrick had triggered my reaction. But no. It was something else.

  And then the words began to sink in, and the realization struck me like a flash of lightning.

  Seers didn't get a choice when they died. They went straight to heaven. Even if Patrick wasn't dying… we would have been separated eventually.

  It was true that I'd thought about the choice I would one day face—my family or a life with Patrick. I hadn't agonized over it too much, though, because it was in the distant future. It wasn't important right now.

  Why hadn't he told me this?

  Toni and Terence didn't seem to be aware of my body's sudden lockup. But Patrick was. I think he realized what Terence had just revealed at the same second I came to fully understand it.

  His fingers pressed deeply against mine, and suddenly I became the focus of the room as Patrick twisted to face me, worried because I was so still. I felt the other Guardians watching us—watching me— but I kept my eyes downcast, not really looking at anything while my mind raced endlessly.

  Patrick angled his body to me, lifting one bent leg onto the couch between us. He lifted a hand to cup the side of my face, effetely forcing me to meet his ardent gaze.

  “Kate?”

  Even now, when he'd just discovered that he was dying, he was more concerned about me.

  I struggled to pull in a breath, for his sake more than mine. Surprisingly, I wasn't crying. Maybe I was in shock—I don't know. All I knew was that a choice I'd never had the chance to make was suddenly no longer mine.

  I wet my bottom lip with a quick purse of my mouth, and my eyes flickered up to his at last. “I'm okay,” I breathed.

  His eyes narrowed, and I knew he didn't believe me. A muscle in his jaw twitched tightly. “I meant to tell you,” he whispered breathlessly, his fingertips pressing tighter against my face, as if that extra show of strength would somehow help me understand. “I wanted to tell you. But you were so happy, and it seemed so inconsequential at the time…”

  He looked so worried over this, a distant part of me wanted to laugh. He was agonizing over the possibility that he'd hurt my feelings, after we'd just learned that he had only days to live? It seemed so ridiculous. Yet here he was, unsure if he'd crossed some line or had upset me so badly that he was hesitant even to comfort me with an embrace.

  I pulled in a deeper breath through my nose, and then I released it a bit unsteadily through my mouth. I lifted my free hand—the one Patrick wasn't gripping tightly—and brushed my fingers along the side of his firm face, stroked his concerned brow. My thumb rubbed delicately along the hollow beneath his eye, and I finally had enough control to speak, though my words were pressingly quiet. “It doesn't matter now. You're the one that matters.”

  I glanced over at Terence, who was watching us carefully. “What can we do?” I demanded, not unkindly. Just determined. Very, very determined.

  Terence nodded once, accepting my silent offer to do anything necessary to ensure Patrick's recovery. Because I wasn't taking no for an answer. He was going to make it. He couldn't die. I'd already lost my parents. I wasn't losing the man I loved on top of that.

  “I'll take him back with me, where he can receive the best medical attention possible. Our facilities have everything he'll need. We can isolate him and start running some tests.”

  I gave my own nod, though it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to agree too. Letting him go, even if it was for the best, wasn't going to be easy.

  “Do you think there's hope then?” Toni asked the superior Guardian.

  Terence wasn't about to lie. “We haven't been successful yet. But we think we're getting closer, and we only have to do one thing right to find the cure. With Patrick there, we'll have five Guardians we can study.”

  “I'm not going,” Patrick broke in easily.

  My hand almost slipped from his face. I stopped it before my fingers could fall from his jaw. We all turned to look at him, but I think I looked the most surprised.

  What did he mean he wasn't going?

  “Patrick,” I stumbled out. “If they can help you, you have to go.”

  He shook his head easily, eyes on me though his words were for everyone. “They can't help me. We all know that. If I was the only test subject available, I would have a harder time refusing. But my presence there wouldn't help anyone. Not even me.” He glanced up at Terence, daring him to disagree.

  He didn't.

  Patrick's eyes came back to me, his hand on my face exceedingly gentle. “Kate, if I'm not a hazard to you… I want to stay right here.”

  I couldn't believe what he was saying. He was giving up? Already? Before
we'd even started to fight? How dare he give up! My breaths were coming faster. I swallowed hard, my eyes finally beginning to sting. But it was from anger. At least that's what I told myself.

  “No. Patrick, you're not giving up. There has to be something—you're not just going to give up and die.”

  “Kate, please, try to understand,” he urged. “This is my choice. I may not have a lot of them now, but… this is mine to make. I don't want to die alone.”

  “You're not going to die,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Why did he insist on making this the end? Why wasn't he fighting? Why was I the only one trying to talk some sense into him?

  I knew the answer without looking to Toni or Terence.

  I knew it just by glaring painfully into Patrick's resigned face.

  They didn't speak because I was the last one still clinging to any hope of his recovery. In their minds, he was already dead.

  And I knew they were right. That was the worst part of all.

  I stopped arguing with Patrick. I became pretty overall silent, actually. While the others pretended to discuss possible treatments, or ways to stall the progression of the virus, I became numb. I refused to dissolve into tears, and I knew they were only seconds away if I continued to feel and think. I needed to be strong. Even if I was losing hope as rapidly as the others, I couldn't let it show. I needed to be the positive one. The believing one. Patrick needed that. He needed me.

  Terence didn't press Patrick to accompany him. He seemed to understand his reasoning perfectly, and it was clear that Patrick was grateful to him. Toni asked some questions about taking care of Patrick in the later stages, and I knew that was his way of telling us he wasn't going anywhere.

  Patrick clung to my hand, but we were once again sitting side by side, no longer looking at each other. Whenever my hand began to tremble, my shield of numbness slipping momentarily, Patrick reflexively tightened his hold. His thumb drew endless circles on the back of my hand, soothing in their continuity but haunting once his skin had passed over mine, leaving only insubstantial trails behind. There, then gone. There, then gone. He was here now. But soon he would be gone.