Chaos (Guards of the Shadowlands Book 3)

by Sarah Fine

  Evan wrapped his arm around my throat. “Come on, Lela. Time to die,” he said, grunting to the others as we approached an old Bronco. Malachi caught up with us as I was being hauled into the backseat. He gestured to four of the Mazikin to get in, then shoved the two strung-out guys, making them fall to the pavement. It confirmed what I had started to suspect—those two weren’t Mazikin.

  Evan laughed as they collided with the blacktop. His arm was still around my neck as Malachi got into the backseat and sat next to me, with Pre-Calc Girl crammed in on his other side. Evan said something in Mazikin, and all of them let out animal chuckles, including Malachi. I leaned so I could see Ian. Tegan was helping him to his feet. His face was bleeding, and it looked like every breath caused him pain, but he was up and watching us drive away.

  As Stocky Guy pulled out of the parking spot, I turned to Malachi and felt pure relief as I caught a glimpse of his neck—smooth skin, no scars. It was really him.

  And we were in a vehicle with five Mazikin. This was a dangerous game, but now I had proof I wasn’t playing alone. Still . . .

  “Did you enjoy that?” I snapped at him. “You didn’t need to hurt him.”

  Malachi chuckled, his dark eyes on mine. “Yes, I did,” he said softly, even as Pre-Calc Girl’s hand crept onto his thigh. “Don’t worry about him now. Worry more about what’s waiting for you.”

  I nearly smiled—it reminded me of what he’d said when we were trapped in a cage in the Bone Palace—Focus on what’s next, not what came before. He was reminding me of where my thoughts should be. But before I could relax too much, he leaned his head back and allowed Pre-Calc Girl to nuzzle his neck. I looked away and found myself staring into Evan’s bloodshot eyes. They narrowed, and he poked Malachi in the shoulder. With a growl, Malachi shoved Pre-Calc Girl away. Evan began speaking in Mazikin to him, and the conversation got intense quickly. Something wasn’t quite right, but Malachi was so forceful that Evan was cringing against his window by the time Stocky Guy pulled onto Cedar Swamp Road, right by the airport. We motored onto a gravel road, all the way to an abandoned construction site. Malachi gestured to the site with an I-told-you-so kind of expression. “See? It’s perfect,” he said to Evan.

  As soon as we were out of the car, Malachi grabbed Evan by the scruff of the neck and slammed him against the hood. “And don’t question me again.” He raised his eyebrows and waited until Evan nodded his head in defeat.

  Malachi gestured for me to walk beside him as we hiked across loose gravel to an old trailer. The others looked confused, their eyes darting to the road, crouching any time an airplane roared overhead, which was pretty much every few minutes or so. I kept my attention on Evan, who skulked behind us, his eyes on Malachi like he expected him to attack again.

  “I stashed him in here,” Malachi said. “And I thought it was time for a reunion.”

  We entered the trailer to see Henry, his hands tied behind his back, his head down. Though I was relieved that he was in position well ahead of time, I choked out his name and lunged for him. Pre-Calc Girl and Stocky Guy dragged me backward and shoved me down so I was on my knees next to Henry, whose eyes were closed. I could tell from the tension in his body that he was alert, though. We’d chosen this spot because it was so loud no one would hear the chaos as we slaughtered however many Mazikin we’d been able to ensnare. Our new Guard house was nearby, reachable by car or by a quick sprint through the woods. My fingers twitched with eagerness and a bit of fear. I was about to kill kids I’d gone to school with, or, at least, it felt a little like that. If we succeeded, though, we’d have rid Warwick High of the Mazikin, and all we’d have to do was get Juri and the other five who were left.

  And then we’d be done. The possibility shot adrenaline through my body.

  The Mazikin circled us, making no pretense at humanity now. They poked at Henry, who stayed limp and unresponsive, and tugged at my hair. Evan was watching me as Malachi knelt behind us and made a show of tightening the ropes around Henry’s wrists.

  “How did you capture him?” Evan asked. “He’s been hard to track.”

  Malachi’s head jerked up. “I told you I would.”

  Evan laughed and nodded. “You did.” He scratched his head. “But you also said he’d burn to death in the fire.”

  Malachi growled at him, the sound coming from deep in his chest, making me shudder. I hadn’t known he was capable of making those noises. Evan shuffled his feet and glared at Malachi before turning his attention to me.

  “You don’t look that nervous,” he said, sniffing at my hair before standing up straight again. His hand slid along his waist and behind his back. Henry moaned softly. Malachi went still.

  “I’ve been through stuff like this before,” I said to Evan, itching to grab for my knives. “Did you expect me to cry and beg for my life?”

  He was quiet for a few moments, looking back and forth between me and Malachi.

  “No, Lela,” he finally said with a faint, evil smile on his lips. “I expected you to beg for his.”

  He pulled a handgun from his waistband, swinging it around so quickly that I barely had a chance to register what was happening. Malachi jumped to his feet as Evan aimed.

  And pulled the trigger.

  THIRTY-TWO

  CRACK.

  Malachi staggered sideways, leaving a long smear of red against the back wall of the trailer. Evan growled and took aim again. I lunged for him.

  But Henry got there first. He jumped to his feet—and took the second bullet in the chest. His eyes went wide, and he fell back. I plowed into Evan, my fingers wrapping around his wrist, rage coloring my world red. He might have been taller than me, but he was also skinnier and not as strong. I shoved him against the wall of the trailer. Pushed beyond my awareness of anything outside the two of us, I stripped the gun from Evan and slammed it against his head over and over again. As his eyes rolled back, I whipped my knife from my pocket and gave him a permanent kind of rest.

  As I ripped the blade from Evan’s throat, another Mazikin landed on my back. His fingernails raked across my collarbone, leaving fiery streaks of agony. I pivoted around and jammed my knife upward into his gut, leaving him doubled over and whimpering. Knowing there were three left and that we couldn’t let them escape, I leaped to my feet and nearly fainted with relief as Malachi, his left shoulder soaked with blood, locked Pre-Calc Girl in a stranglehold while he downed the baseball-cap guy with a vicious side kick. I crunched the butt of Evan’s gun into the now-capless Mazikin’s head, then drew my blade across his throat.

  “One of them got out.” Malachi slammed his knee into Pre-Calc Girl’s face, sending her to the ground like a bag of rocks, her nose gushing. “Stay with Henry,” he added in a faltering voice, then sprinted out of the trailer, presumably to chase Stocky Guy, who’d escaped.

  I finished off Pre-Calc Girl, and then I turned toward a wheezy gurgling sound that filled me with dread. “Raphael, I need you,” I shouted to the air, then dropped to my knees beside Henry, who was on his back next to the chair where he’d been “tied.” One of the ropes still dangled from his wrist. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth. “It’s okay, Henry,” I said softly, sliding my arm under his neck and gently lifting his head.

  His gurgling turned into a choked laugh. “Not a chance,” he mumbled.

  I pressed my hand over the wound on the left side of his chest, trying to stem the horrible flow of red. “Raphael,” I yelled again, my voice breaking.

  “No,” he whispered. “ ’s okay. But you have to do the rest without me.”

  “Shut up.” I squeezed my eyes shut. He’d sacrificed himself to save Malachi. And even though I knew Raphael had probably heard me summon him from wherever he was, I also knew with terrible certainty that he wouldn’t get here in time. Henry’s blood seeped between my fingers, a merciless flood. My Guard was going to die before our mission was completed
, and I had no idea what that meant for him. Still . . .

  “Sascha’s waiting for you,” I said, my mouth close to Henry’s ear. “He’ll be so proud of you.” I tightened my grip on Henry as he shuddered, his fingers scrabbling at his neck like he couldn’t get enough air. “No matter where you go next, you’ll find each other. But for what it’s worth, I think you deserve the Countryside.”

  His eyes met mine, and the tears welled up fast. “Captain . . .”

  “You’ve been the best Guard, Henry. I know it wasn’t what you wanted. But you’ve been loyal and badass. And wise. You totally set me straight. We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been with us.”

  A tear slid from his eye and wet my fingers. For a moment, he simply gazed at me, his body becoming still and loose, relaxing in my arms. And then: “Thank you, Lela.”

  I knew the moment he left, the second he moved on. And with everything inside me, I prayed that he and Sascha would find one another again. I had no idea if that prayer was worth a thing, but I’d take the chance. Because their heaven was in each other, and with every cell in my body, I wanted that for Henry.

  A hand closed around my shoulder, and I snapped my head up to see Malachi leaning against the doorframe behind me. “I caught the one who escaped,” he said in a weary voice. “But he made some noise. We have to leave.”

  “Henry . . .”

  “I know, Lela,” Malachi said, his voice catching.

  “Say that prayer? Can you do that for him?”

  Malachi nodded, his expression creased with grief. I let Henry go, closing his eyes and getting to my feet. I put my arm around Malachi’s waist and let him lean on me as he bowed his head. With halting, whispered words, he spoke the prayer: the desperate wishes of our hearts, our gratitude to Henry for being our ally, our grief that he was gone, our hope that he was in a better place now.

  When Malachi finished, he raised his head. “I can hear sirens.”

  “We can’t leave him here.”

  “I can’t carry him,” he replied. “I’m sorry . . . I . . .” He looked down at his left arm, blood dripping from his fingertips. He shivered against me. We needed to get back to the Guard house so Raphael could heal him.

  “I’ll take care of Henry,” said Raphael, appearing next to me.

  I blinked at him, my eyes burning, tears staining my cheeks. “You’re too late.”

  Raphael gazed down at Henry, who looked more peaceful in death than he ever had been in life. “He accomplished what he was sent here to do.” He glanced around the trailer, at the bodies crumpled on the floor, the blood everywhere. “I’ll take care of this and meet you at the Guard house.”

  Malachi’s hand slipped into mine. “Come on,” he said softly. After a gentle tug and one last look at Henry, I followed my Lieutenant out of the trailer and broke into a jog behind him. Even though he’d only been to the new Guard house a few times, Malachi’s steps were sure as he picked up speed and headed for the woods. He held his left arm against his body, and I heard bursts of pained breath every time he leaped over a fallen tree trunk or a divot in the path. My chest was screaming, too, and I knew the Mazikin claw marks would require healing, but apart from that, I was uninjured.

  We scrambled through the woods as flashing lights from the distant highway told us that cops would soon be swarming over the construction site, wondering where the hell all the blood had come from. There wouldn’t be a body in sight. Though we hadn’t told Raphael about Stocky Guy, I trusted him to handle that, too, opening a door to a different realm and tossing the empty shells through, making them disappear forever.

  When we reached the Guard house, we were out of breath and on the verge of collapse. Malachi fell onto a couch, his grimace telling me how much pain he was in. I rushed over to him, wincing at the neat hole through the crest of his left shoulder. A few inches and he would have been in the same predicament as Henry, but this was bad enough. He had movement in his arm and fingers, but it had bled a lot and was obviously painful.

  “Raphael will be here soon,” I told him, smoothing my hand over his sweaty black hair. “We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for what I had to do as Juri. You understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “I had to stop Ian from following us,” he said, his voice strained. “And I had to make it look convincing.” His eyes opened. “They had something planned, for after school. I know you were supposed to stay until the end of the day, but if we hadn’t left, they would have known immediately that something wasn’t right.”

  “How do you think Evan figured it out?”

  “He became suspicious as soon as I changed the plan. I never found out what they were going to do.”

  I took his hand. “It’s all right. You did everything you could. We’ll figure it out.”

  He groaned. “Lela, could you get me some water? Maybe a cloth, too?”

  “Of course.” I got up quickly, my heart skipping at how weak his voice sounded. I went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, then got him a glass of water. When I returned, he took the towel and flattened his palm over it, pressing it to his wound and trying to stop the bleeding. I sank next to him, and he scooted over to make room on the couch. “I can do that.”

  He sipped the water as I put pressure on the wound. “We only have six left to kill, including Juri,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “We can do this.”

  He nodded toward my chest, at the bleeding ragged claw marks. “Raphael will need to tend to you.”

  “You’re going first,” I told him. And then I laughed. “And that’s an order.”

  But he didn’t smile. Instead, he sighed. “Lela, I have to tell you something.”

  Raphael chose that moment to appear in our living room. “All the bodies have been disappeared,” he said to me. “You will not be linked to the scene. Do you want to be healed asleep or awake?”

  “Malachi is worse than I am. He has to go first.”

  Raphael gave Malachi a speculative look. “You didn’t tell her. Interesting choice.”

  “Tell me what?” I said, my stomach knotting.

  “I will not heal him, Lela. That would be interfering with the natural course of events, beyond what is necessary to allow you to complete your mission.”

  “I have no idea what kind of joke this is,” I snapped, glaring at him, “but it isn’t funny.”

  Malachi set his water glass down. “When I went before the Judge, he agreed to let me return to the land of the living one last time.” He laced his fingers with mine. “But not as a Guard. I am, for all intents and purposes, a civilian.”

  After demanding that Malachi let me take him to the hospital—and getting flatly turned down—I asked Raphael to put me under, because I was too short-circuited to manage the pain. Malachi had known this might happen. He’d known that if he was wounded, he’d be on his own, but he’d kept it from me. The frustration twisted inside me, even as everything went black and silent.

  I woke up long before I was ready, jolted into awareness by Raphael’s blazing hands. “You need to see this,” he said, pulling me up still aching and half-fixed. He held out my phone.

  On the screen was a text:

  I’ve taken something of yours.

  It had come with a picture. Tegan, Ian, and Diane, hands behind them, sitting in the dingy living room of the meth house.

  Even as I cried out, unable to process the terror that came with that image, the phone vibrated with another text:

  If you aren’t here in an hour, I will skin them alive.

  I jumped to my feet and staggered as a wave of dizziness crashed over me. I hit the wall and managed to grab the doorframe to keep myself from sliding to the floor. “I have to go.”

  “Yes, you do,” said Raphael. He flattened his palm against my chest. The jolt of fire fr
om his hand made me scream and fall to my knees, tears streaking from the corners of my eyes. “Sorry.”

  He stepped away, and I fell forward, catching myself with my hands.

  “Lela?” Malachi was still in the living room. He sounded weary and weak, and it reminded me of what he’d done.

  “I’m going,” I growled, pushing myself to my feet and striding into the living room. He was on the couch, the bloodstained towel on his shoulder, but he sat up when he saw the look on my face.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Now we know what they had planned for after school. Juri has Diane, Tegan, and Ian. And if I’m not there in an hour, he’s going to kill them in the worst way possible.” I walked to the kitchen table, where Henry’s weapons had been laid out, waiting for his return. My jaw clenched as I looked them over and grabbed his knives.

  “I’m going with you,” Malachi said from right behind me.

  I bowed my head, anger boiling just beneath my surface. “No, you’re not.”

  “Lela, you can’t stop me.”

  I whirled around and shoved him, my hands colliding with his chest and making him stagger back. “I bet I can. What the hell, Malachi? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He leaned against the wall, wincing as he moved his left arm. “Because I suspected you would react like this.”

  That only made me angrier. “Can you blame me?”

  “No,” he said gently. “But obviously, I was hoping this wouldn’t happen, and that we could avoid the whole discussion.”

  “Is that how you operate? Avoiding things until they bite you in the ass?”

  Raphael chuckled from his position on the living room couch, where he was lounging as if he’d come over for tea or something.

  “Shut up,” Malachi and I said at the same time.

  He chuckled one more time and disappeared.

  Malachi flexed the fingers of his left hand. “If Juri has Diane and the others, you need my help.”