Undone (The Guardians Book 1)

by Jessica Roe

  He was waiting for them in front of his office door with a smug smile. Next to him stood a tall, blonde man with an expressionless face. Nicky couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body when he looked into the blonde man's eyes and he recoiled into himself. He knew, without doubt, that the man was a Leech.

  Nicky's shadow army vanished into nothing and he felt their loss like a gaping hole in his chest.

  Nicky, Walker, Charles and Zay were all alone against Pablo and his remaining men. And his remaining men were...plentiful.

  And what was worse, Nicky was sure there was something inside of him slowly dying. How had he never realized before just how much a part of him being a Shadow Guide was? How had he never realized how much he had come to accept his gift, how much he loved being a Shadow Guide? Only once his gift was gone and he was completely human for the first time since he was three years old did he realize how much he appreciated that side of himself.

  Fucking Leech.

  “Welcome!” Pablo boomed. “So glad you could make it. I believe you have something of mine?”

  “Where are our friends?” Nicky demanded, and then wished he hadn't. He was still exhausted from getting the shadows to fight for him, and he sounded as weak as he felt.

  Pablo could obviously tell because his smile grew wider. He clicked his fingers and the door behind him opened and Zebb and Uang appeared, pushing Queenie and Kain out. They were shoved to their knees with unnecessary force. Both of them looked roughed up—a couple of scrapes and bruises—but not as bad as Nicky had feared. They were bound and gagged and shaking with terror. Walker moved forward with a furious snarl, and every one of Pablo's men lifted their guns. She had no choice but to back off.

  “And the scientist?” Charles asked through gritted teeth.

  Pablo's expression was blank. “Oh, that guy. Don't worry about Zachary, he's alive and well...well, he's alive, anyway. I think I might have been too quick to judge on that one. He'd be better suited working for me than dead. Oh well, all's well that ends well.” With a sudden movement that none of them had anticipated, he yanked Queenie to her feet by the hair and put a dagger to her throat. Nicky recognized it—it was the one he'd thought Gable had used to kill Heidi and Becky. Queenie squealed around her gag and helpless tears trickled from her eyes.

  Kain's eyes bugged and he struggled furiously against his bonds, and Nicky had to summon up every last bit of strength he had to restrain Zay. One wrong move and Queenie was dead.

  “Give me the box,” Pablo said. “and I don't rip her heart out through her neck. She lives. Hell, you all live!”

  “Swear,” Charles commanded. “Swear that you'll let us leave.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  Charles had no other choice. He stepped forwards and pulled the box out from inside his jacket, holding it out towards Pablo, who shoved Queenie to the side and snatched it up greedily. The dagger fell from his hand and clattered to the floor as he stared down at the box with glee and wonder.

  “I can't believe you let it go so easily.” His voice was distant and distracted as he stared, entranced, at the box. “You really are the worst Guardians in the world.” He backed up towards his office. “Lock Felicity and Nicholas up,” he instructed his men. “I sense something distinctly Outcast about them. We'll keep them until we determine their breed. Kill the rest.”

  “You swore!” Charles yelled furiously, already pulling out his gun. “You swore, you bastard!”

  “Actually I didn't.” Pablo backed into his office and shot them one last look. “I never swear. It's rude.” And then he shut himself away and left them for slaughter.

  Nicky was sure that he was going to have to watch helplessly as Pablo's men murdered most of his team and his hand was already on his gun when the doors to the stairwell behind the Guardians opened with a crash. He whipped around and his heart stopped when he saw Gable standing there, alive and angry and fierce and so fucking beautiful that she made Nicky ache. He wanted to marvel over her miraculous recovery, but he knew he didn't have time.

  Terelle stood next to Gable, her purple eyes blazing. Her ordinarily delicate hands had formed into claws and her bared teeth were sharp as knives. Damn, Charles had been right—Faeries were hard core bad asses. And Terelle was just a Fallen Faerie. He'd sure as hell hate to piss off the real thing.

  Nicky hadn't even known Gable and Terelle knew each other, but there they were, standing side by side like fearsome warriors. And behind them, a hoard of angry looking Outcasts from Yarmac and Bogely's waited for further instruction, ready for battle. He saw Tamitri, Cadby, Starla, Fabian and his girlfriend, Celeste, and Lace the Banshee. Even Neala the Nephilim was ready with a deadly looking sabre in each hand. More Outcasts stood behind them, spilling out onto the stairs.

  Pablo's men were momentarily struck dumb, but they collected themselves and got ready to fight.

  “Take down the Leech!” Terelle ordered loudly as her teeth and claws faded away the closer she got to him. “Kill him, knock him unconscious, I don't care. Once he's down, this fight is ours!” The Outcasts—or temporarily just humans—cheered and surged towards the odd, blonde man. He looked terrified, like he'd never had to deal with an actual, physical attack before.

  Shots rang out as Pablo's men began to fire, and Nicky could only watch in a daze as commotion ensued.

  Taking advantage of the chaos, Zay and Walker threw themselves towards Queene and Kain. Queenie sobbed as Zay released her from her bonds and threw herself into his arms. He held her tightly, stroking her hair and murmuring quietly in her ear.

  Nicky wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly, the Leech lay on the floor and the shadows returned and he could feel every one of them. They were just as relieved to be in tune with him again as he was with them. He almost dropped to his knees as his energy was consumed even faster, but he didn't even care.

  An idea occurred to him and he grasped Charles' arm. “What if we used the Leech on Pablo? He wouldn't be an Immortal, right? And then we could...you know...” Kill him. Nicky was beginning to think that was the only way they were going to stop Pablo's destruction.

  Charles shook his head. “It's...oh, hold on.” He whipped out his gun and shot at a man who had been about to kill Fabian with a knife to the back. Nicky blinked. It always shocked him to see Charles' deadlier side. “What was I saying? Oh, yes. A Leech won't work on Pablo—it's been tried before. It just doesn't affect him. All part of his invulnerability.”

  Damn. There went that inspirational plan.

  More gunshots fired, and they were joined by the sounds of growls and snarls as power returned to the Outcasts. Xantherus howled as he released himself from Tamitri's chest.

  Terelle's claws were back and she was fighting with a ferocity he never could have imagined the gentle woman to have. She was furious—that much was easy to see by the way she slashed through Pablo's men, uncaring as she ripped into their skin and was sprayed by their blood. Pablo had made a grave mistake crossing her when he'd taken people she cared about. She was a savage, wild and deadly and unstoppable.

  The tides had turned. Pablo's guys were no longer running the show. Some were trying to run for the stairwell, some were cowering, but most were trying, and ultimately failing, to fight back. Nicky looked around for Zebb and Uang—he seriously wanted to see them get their asses handed to them—but they had vanished.

  Gable, who had remained by the doors the whole time, watching stoically, began to walk through the fight like nothing out of the ordinary was happening, like there wasn't a battle between good and evil going on right around her. She ignored it all, the fighting, the screaming, the weapons, and strode right over to where Zay was still holding Queenie on the floor, his body wrapped around hers to shield her. When Zay saw Gable approach he aimed his gun at her, but she didn't seem to care. She crouched down next to them and picked something up—Nicky couldn't see what—before nodding at them and standing up. Zay watched her curiously for a long moment, and they seemed to h
ave some kind of unspoken conversation. He nodded his head once and dropped his gun.

  And then, without looking at anyone or anything else, Gable disappeared inside Pablo's office.

  GABLE CLOSED PABLO'S office door behind her and locked it quietly. All the noise and madness and violence and fighting ceased; it was just the two of them.

  She briefly wondered if she should feel guilty for avoiding the battle, but she knew they didn't need her out there. Once the Leech had been knocked unconscious, Pablo's guys hadn't stood a chance—even with all their guns. They'd go down within minutes. Guns were no match for Terelle's army of angry Outcasts—and they were angry. As soon as Gable had told them what she had learned in spirit form about Pablo and the missing Outcasts there had been no stopping them from seeking revenge. And they had been exactly what she'd needed to save Nicky and his Guardians.

  It was strange, no longer counting herself as one of Pablo's guys. But she had learned something kind of mind blowing about herself since waking up from that hospital bed...she didn't want to be a bad person. She probably never had. And maybe she didn't want to be all good and pure either, and she still thought the Guardians were self righteous assholes, but yeah, she definitely didn't want to be evil. Big day for her.

  Maybe there was a club she could join—Evil Minions Anonymous.

  God, why was she making jokes?

  Pablo was bent over his desk, examining a little black box in pure wonder. It was the Box of Creation, the one that Messor had warned her about. He glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned with the kind of honest joy she'd never really seen on his face before. “Hello, you. What on earth is all that commotion out there? It sounds awfully chaotic.” He turned back to the damned box.

  “People are fighting,” she said quietly, still standing motionless by the door. “People are dying.”

  “Ah, well, never mind.” He shrugged, like it was all just so inconsequential. “None of that matters now.” He picked up the box and held it out to show her. “Do you know what this is, Gable? Do you know what I have?” He continued without waiting for her to answer. “I have the key to creation, right here in my hands.” His eyes were wide and glittering; he looked like a mad man possessed.

  He cocked his head suddenly. “I should have mentioned right away—I'm so very glad you are well, Gable. I thought I'd lost you for a moment, but you recovered, just like a little fighter. It must have been a miracle.”

  He obviously had no idea that she knew her recovery was no miracle, and that she'd watched in spirit form as he'd found a way to heal her himself. She could form no words in reply.

  Pablo didn't seem to need any because he continued talking anyway. He had an awful lot to say. “We're so close to our main goal, I can practically taste it on my tongue.”

  “And what exactly is our goal?” she asked hesitantly, troubled by the way he included her in his plans, even though he hadn't before.

  “My plan is to one day rule the world of Outcasts, in every realm. And you'll be right at my side, of course. I can make you stronger than you've ever dreamed of.”

  “Why would you even want that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Why wouldn't I?” He stared at her like she was the crazy one. “Power, my sweet thing. It's all about the power. Always.”

  “Don't you have enough power already? You already own practically half of New York—”

  “There is always more power to be had,” he said sharply. “Always. That is something you must learn if you want to succeed in life.”

  It hit her then, that it was all just so...pointless. Just so devastatingly pointless. All of the death and destruction he'd caused over centuries of living...it was pointless.

  Power...God, what hateful reasoning.

  “Have you been kidnapping the Outcasts?” Gable went straight to the hard, sharp point. She already knew the answer, but she wanted...needed to hear it from him.

  His smile faded and she could see his body stiffen underneath his shirt. He'd cleaned himself up since she'd seen him in the hospital. “Let's not talk about such upsetting things.”

  “Did you take him? Did you take Sacha away from me?”

  Now he looked downright distressed. “Gable, why do you want to talk about things that are only going to make you unhappy? This is a joyful time! Come now, we have preparations to make.”

  And that was all the answer she needed, really. But there was one more thing...

  “Why did you do it?” She was no longer talking about the Outcasts, and she could tell by the way his nostrils flared that he knew it too. “At the hospital, why did you do that for me?” Her voice broke on the last few words; the pain in her heart was unbearable. Despite everything, despite how evil and sick and crazy he was, she still loved him. He had saved her life in the hospital, he'd given up something huge and precious and she couldn't even let that matter, not in the grand scheme of things.

  His eyes widened at her words. “How did you know?”

  Gable said nothing, but just watched him, waiting.

  Pablo heaved a sigh and turned his back to her, hooking his tanned hands behind his head in frustration. His shoulders haunched over and she could tell how agitated he was—he never held himself anything but straight. When he finally turned back to her, his face was anguished and his eyes filled with tears she hadn't expected. “You were going to die!” he yelled, losing all composure. “And I couldn't bear the thought of losing you! You are like my daughter, my child. How could I stand by as you took your last breath? In half a millennia I've had nobody and then I had you and I...I wouldn't let you die. Not you, Gable. I would do anything to take care of you, you must know that.”

  Her eyes stung and her throat ached, and she knew that tears were coming. “I know,” she breathed.

  Pablo held out his arms for her and she launched herself into them. He held her so tightly and buried his face in her shoulder so that his dark hair brushed her cheek. She breathed in his warmth and familiar spicy scent, and it was so nice and sweet that it was just like arriving home.

  Slowly, she reached her hand underneath her t-shirt. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered into his ear.

  “Whatever fo—” His words cut off into a gasp, a small, painful intake of air. He let Gable go and stumbled backwards until he hit the edge of his desk. Together, they looked down to where the dagger was plunged to the hilt into his chest. A dark patch of blood was spreading quickly over his white shirt.

  It was the same dagger that he'd given her to kill Heidi and the kid, the same dagger she'd found on the floor by the two Guardians—the blonde guy and the scientist. The same dagger that held so much meaning for them both.

  GABLE STARED HARD at Messor's hand. It was pale and small and her fingers were kind of chunky. She knew, with a foreboding that reached right down inside her stomach, that the moment they touched skin, nothing would ever be the same again.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, she reached out. Their fingertips touched, feather light.

  Nothing happened.

  She'd expected something. Perhaps a flash of white light, or maybe even the clanking of chains and the searing flames of hell, but no. Nothing.

  Messor frowned. She reached out and gripped Gable's hand. Still nothing. After a moment, she closed her eyes, squeezing them shut in sadness. When she opened them again, they were filled with a resentful understanding. “Oh, that's not playing by the rules.”

  “Wait, what?” Gable began to panic. She was ready, she wanted to go. “I'm going with you, right? I made up my mind!”

  “You're not on my list any more,” she replied. “Goodbye, Gabrielle.” And then she was gone.

  “No, please!” Gable begged, but only the thin air was there to hear her cries. “Please don't leave me!”

  Messor never came back.

  Unsure of what had just happened, Gable frantically turned back to her body, looking for answers she was sure she wouldn't find there.

  “Pablo?” He didn'
t hear her, of course. Didn't see the arm she waved in front of his face, didn't feel the hand she swished right through his head—and wasn't that a horrific experience.

  Had Messor really just left her? Would being a ghost forever be her existence? Invisible, lonely, until she finally died and all the colour was sucked out of her world?

  She watched Pablo as he sat in a chair next to her body, holding her hand and humming softly.

  A man appeared suddenly on the other side of the bed. Pablo didn't seem surprised to see him there, so he must have been expecting him.

  “I heard you wanted to see me?” the man asked casually. He snapped his fingers and another comfy looking chair appeared. He threw himself into it, and they eyed each other across the bed.

  The man was odd looking; handsome, but his age was impossible to tell. One moment he looked like he could have been in his twenties, and then the light shifted and he looked forty five. He wore a deep burgundy velvet sports jacket, pin striped pants and a black fedora. He managed to pull off the odd ensemble with certain class.

  Gable gasped when she realized that she recognized the man from pictures in one of Pablo's endless research books on Outcasts. Granted, the pictures had been drawings, but they had captured his essence perfectly.

  He was known as the Dealmaker, but in reality he was more of a Demi God, a minor Deity. He had the ability to make the impossible possible, but only for a steep price. He was supposed to be ridiculously elusive and as hard to contact as God himself. Gable hadn't even believed he was real until that very moment.

  “I want you to heal her,” Pablo demanded, cutting straight to the point. “Heal Gable quickly, before she dies.”

  The Dealmaker let out a long, wary whistle and sat back in his chair. “You'd better have something super extraordinary to offer me in return. Look at the girl, there's almost nothing left of her to save—just a tiny little sparkle, clinging on. And even I can't bring back the dead.”