Chaos (Guards of the Shadowlands Book 3)

by Sarah Fine

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “OPEN YOUR EYES, BABY. You’re all right now.”

  “Diane?” I said, my eyes popping open.

  No. I was in the Judge’s chambers, a place I hadn’t wanted to see again. Ever. I looked down at myself. My clothes were bloody, but my body was intact. Nothing hurt. No.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said softly, her voice telling me she was close. But I couldn’t raise my head. I didn’t want it to be real. “It’s real, baby. You have to face it.”

  Her fiery-orange fingernails nudged my chin up, and I found myself looking into her amber-brown eyes. “You’re strong enough to face it,” she said gently.

  I looked around. The inhuman Guards were arrayed on either side of the aisle that led out of her chambers, as usual, but all of them were facing the front, and their eyes were on me. A few of them had their hands over their hearts, in a kind of salute.

  I’d been hunched over on the white marble floor, and I sat back on my knees. “Malachi,” I said to the Judge. “Did he get Juri?”

  “I can show you,” she said to me, “but only if you’re sure you want to see.”

  My stomach tightened, like there was still a wound there, even though it felt fine. No numbness, no pain. “Show me.”

  She pointed at the white wall of her chambers, and the burning meth house appeared before us. There, on the grass, lay Juri, his head canted at an awful angle, his throat cut to the bone. And a few feet away, Malachi was bent over, on his knees.

  He was cradling my body. His broad back shook as he sobbed silently.

  The image disappeared, and the Judge looked down at me. “You completed your mission, baby. You did a good job. I’m proud of you.”

  I couldn’t say thank you. I didn’t feel proud. I felt tired. She stroked my hair and pointed at the wall again. There lay the Countryside, emerald grass and rolling hills, wildflowers blooming, sun shining.

  “You’re free to go,” she said.

  I remembered what it felt like, to sink my toes into those soft green blades, the sweet fragrances on the air, the warmth. Nothing would ever hurt me again. And the more I stared, the more I saw people, their faces coming to me even though they were at a distance, like a camera with a powerful zoom lens. Takeshi and Ana swam in a crystal lake, water beading on their brown skin, their faces lit with happiness. Nadia lay on her back in a meadow with a group of other teenagers, pointing up at the clouds like she saw something beautiful there. Treasa and the Smith sat on a rock overlooking a field of wheat. And Henry and Sascha walked hand in hand through a forest. As I watched, Sascha put his arms around Henry’s narrow shoulders and pulled him close. Their kiss was pure relief and tenderness. Home after so many years at war.

  My attention shifted back to Nadia, and as though she sensed me, she sat up. She looked right at me. And she smiled. She got to her feet and opened her arms, inviting me to join her.

  But instead of moving toward her, I collapsed in on myself, pulling my legs to my chest and bowing my head against my knees. Through my arms I said, “I have a question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I swiped tears from my face. “Did you know all this would happen from the very beginning?”

  The Judge gazed down at me, her eyes filled with a cold that hit me bone-deep. “Does it really matter if I did?”

  “Did you choose me? I mean, from that night on the cliff, that night I fell. A gust of wind pushed me over the edge and started this whole thing. Was that you? Can’t you just tell me?”

  “Would it really help you to know?”

  My fingers curled into my pant legs. “I want to know if you picked me to go through this. If I somehow got lucky.” I spat the last word, my resentment making it hard to draw breath.

  “Baby, I chose you,” she said, her voice full of amusement. “But I chose a lot of people.”

  I stared at her, and she sighed. “You can’t see things the way I do,” she said. “You’re not made that way. But you can understand this. Say you’re walking down a road, and a big brick wall drops down in front of you. What would you do?”

  “Are you serious?” I snapped. “Are you really giving me some inspirational proverb right now?”

  She chuckled. “Just go with it.”

  I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming at her. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d climb over it.”

  “Choice. What if it’s too high?”

  “I’d try to go around it.”

  “Another choice. But it’s too big to get around. Then what?”

  I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. I’d try to dig my way under it. Or chip my way through it.”

  She started to laugh. “Choice and choice. But you could have sat down in the road and stayed where you were. You could have turned around and gone back the way you came.” She put her hands on my shoulders and lifted me to my feet as if I weighed nothing. “But that’s not who you are.”

  “And your point is?”

  “You’re the only one who made the sequence of choices that led you to this place. Yes, there were things you didn’t control, obstacles that landed in your path. But each and every time, you decided what to do. You entered the dark city. You found Nadia. And when given your chance to enter the Countryside, you gave that up for her. You chose to go after Malachi when he was lost to the Mazikin. You chose to liberate the city. You chose to stay and fight in the land of the living, even when you were tempted to give up. Each and every time, you took the steps. You made the choices. So maybe I chose you, but more importantly, you chose you.”

  “And Malachi?”

  Her eyes flashed with humor. “He is exactly the same. He made his choices. He knew the risks and accepted them.”

  And now he was broken and grieving in the land of the living, and I was here, about to be released into the Countryside. But maybe . . .

  “Can I have a reward for my loyal service?” I asked, squaring my shoulders. “I think I’ve earned it.”

  “What do you want, baby?”

  I turned to her, meeting her eyes. “One more choice.”

  She gazed out on the Countryside, where Nadia was waiting. “I’m offering you an eternity of peace.”

  “But what I want is a choice,” I repeated.

  “I won’t make promises,” she said. “If I give you a choice, it doesn’t come with guarantees. Not happiness, not freedom from tragedy, not protection from illness or injury or grief or failure.”

  “That’s life, right?” I murmured.

  A slight smile curved her red lips. “That’s life. It can be hell, baby.”

  “But sometimes it’s the opposite.”

  “Only sometimes. You could have the opposite all the time.”

  I looked at the wall, at the Countryside, but it had disappeared. What I saw there now was Malachi, still cradling my body as the fire raged. Diane was on her knees next to him, tears rolling down her face as she spoke into her cell phone, probably calling an ambulance I was way past needing.

  “Do you really want all that pain? You’re so tired. You’ve been through so much. Every soul has its limit.”

  My eyes traced over Malachi as he kissed my forehead, as his tears fell on my face, as his hands threaded through my hair. “And every soul has its haven. Its heaven, too.”

  She put her hand on my shoulder as we watched paramedics arrive and try to pull him away from me. Weak and bleeding, he still fought, hunched over my body like he was my only chance at survival, my only protector. Then Diane’s hands were on his back, gentle and insistent, and he let her pull him into her arms. He’d never looked so young or helpless. She held him against her as they both sobbed. I’d hurt them so much.

  “Only because they love you,” the Judge said softly.

  I turned my attention to my body—my blood-soaked, defeated body. Broken so many times, unable t
o take any more punishment. One of the paramedics squatted next to me, placing his fingers on my neck and searching for my nonexistent pulse.

  He raised his head and looked right at me, gray eyes inquisitive. Raphael.

  “Now’s the time, then,” said the Judge. “Make your choice.”

  Raphael raised his eyebrows, waiting.

  “It’s made,” I said.

  She took my face in her hands. “Be brave, baby. Your days of fighting aren’t quite over.”

  My heart skipped a beat, but then I saw her smile. “Because that’s life,” I said.

  She nodded. “That’s life. Do it well. When I see you again, I want to be able to tell you that you did a good job.”

  “I’ll try. And thanks.”

  She grinned as the charge built in her hands, making me feel like I was about to be struck by lightning. “You’re welcome.”

  My world became darkness again.

  I lay back, feeling the sun on my face, the sound of the waves lulling me. A breeze ruffled my curls, and I pushed them away from my forehead.

  Laughter reached me from a few yards away, and I turned my head to see Ian throw a bikini-clad Laney over his shoulders and charge with her into the water. Her shrieks weren’t as annoying as they used to be, probably because she was making Ian happy, and that made me happy.

  “If I did that to you, would you throat-punch me?” Malachi asked as he sank onto the towel next to mine.

  The summer had darkened his skin, turning it a delicious brown. The silver indentation on his shoulder was the only battle scar he carried, and the rest of him was perfect—muscle and smooth flesh. I propped myself up on an elbow, taking in the view as he stretched out his long legs and sat back, his board shorts low on his lean hips. Heaven. Help. Me.

  “Are you sure you could manage it? I’m heavier than I look.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

  And just like that, he was on me, strong arms pulling me up and lifting me high, holding me tight as he bounded toward the water. “I’m not a good swimmer,” I yelped. It was why I’d spent the entire day on the sand.

  “Then you should practice more,” he called back as he reached the water and kept running, waves splashing my face until he pitched forward into the ocean, plunging me into the cold.

  I flailed, scared for a moment, but then I wrapped my arms around his neck as he planted his feet in the sand. He crouched low, so the water was up to my neck. He pushed my wet hair out of my face and gave me a saltwater kiss. “See?” he said. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “It’s hard to be afraid when you’re with me.” I laid my head on his shoulder as he walked into deeper water. My fingers found the spot on his back where the bullet had exited, and I stroked it. “Does it still bother you?”

  The night we’d defeated Juri, Malachi had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, too, but he hadn’t been tended by Raphael on the way. I’d made a miraculous recovery, but Malachi had to have surgery to repair the damage to his shoulder. It hadn’t slowed him down much, though.

  “I feel it,” he said mildly, his arms around my waist, his fingers caressing my ribs. I still had scars of my own, but they’d faded, and people only tended to notice them if they looked very closely. Malachi, who knew where each one was and where it had come from, seemed drawn to them, his fingertips tracing those places with tenderness. As if we were still in the Mazikin realm and his love could heal the broken spots.

  Come to think of it, maybe that’s why they were so faded.

  A wave hit us, lifting us in the swell and carrying us a few feet. When we landed, Malachi said, “It’s like being in the jaws of a big friendly animal.”

  I snorted. “A little like the dark city. Except nicer.”

  “This is so strange,” he murmured. “Sometimes I wake at night convinced that all of it has been a dream. I’m always surprised that I’m not in my cot, back in my quarters, my map on the wall, my weapons around me.”

  I touched his cheek. “But you’re glad, right?” He was living in the Guard house, the little cottage near the airport. I was pretty sure Raphael had bent the rules when he set stuff up for Malachi, but I was grateful. While Malachi was in the hospital, we’d discovered he had a social security number, a bank account, and the deed to the Guard house. Not enough to be wealthy, but enough to give him a chance to figure out what to do next.

  Malachi leaned his forehead on mine. “So glad,” he whispered. His kiss was deeper this time. My legs locked around his waist as our mouths melded.

  “Get a room, you two,” Ian said as he swam past, splashing us. We broke apart as Malachi splashed back, laughing.

  “Sometimes I wish we had Raphael around to mess with people’s memories on a regular basis,” I said quietly as Ian reached the shore. “It’s so helpful.”

  Tegan, Ian, and Diane all remembered most of what had happened. But they didn’t remember Juri. And they did remember that Malachi and I had been with them the whole time, victims alongside them, almost falling prey to the vicious drug ring responsible for the fires and the crime wave. Sure, there had been an investigation, but we were all cleared.

  “Now we have to be crafty all on our own,” Malachi said, drawing his hand up my leg. “But I think we can manage.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, breathless at the sensation.

  “Mmm,” he murmured against my skin. “After all, you did walk into hell for me.”

  I kissed his jaw, weaving my fingers into the thick black hair on the back of his head. “And you fought your way out of heaven for me.”

  He touched his nose to mine, and our eyes locked. “I think that means we can do anything.”

  We stayed like that, waves lapping our bodies, wrapped tightly, unwilling to let go, as the sun warmed our skin. I knew every moment couldn’t be like this. There were no guarantees. There would be pain, and fighting, and struggles, and tears, because that was life. It was dangerous and unpredictable. Malachi and I would make our choices, and other people would make theirs, and it was impossible to know what would come of them. But as I heard his voice in my ear, as I felt the safety of his arms, as I sensed the adoration in his touch, I knew that, for a moment at least, I had found my heaven.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  WOW. THE END OF a series. There are so many people who helped make this happen, and I am grateful to all of you! Courtney Miller, my acquiring editor: thank you a million times for believing in this series from the start. The wonderful team at Amazon Publishing, including Timoney Korbar, Deborah Bass, and Erick Pullen: thank you for working so hard to give these books the visibility they needed. I’d like to thank copyeditor Elizabeth Johnson for nitpicking in the most delightful way. Additional thanks goes to my proofreader, Janice Lee. To my cover designer, Tony Sahara: thank you for designing a brutal, beautiful cover for Lela’s final round. And to my developmental editor, Leslie “Lam” Miller: you are an absolute gift and will always be welcome in my margins (and in my parlor).

  Thank you to the team at New Leaf Literary & Media, especially Joanna Volpe, Danielle Barthel, Jaida Temperly, and Lauren Wohl. And to Kathleen Ortiz, my agent: you are so many things—patient, empathic, fearsome when necessary, kind and strategic at all times. I am so glad we chose each other.

  A special thank you goes to Petra Ippendorf (Safari Poet) for giving Treasa Kirwan her name.

  I am blessed with fabulous writing friends. Lydia Kang: your name in my in-box is all it takes to make my day. And to Brigid, Jaime, Virginia, Justine, Stina, and Lori, thank you for cheering me on and lifting me up. I am also endlessly lucky to have a boss who not only helped me design my “day job” but has also helped me keep doing it despite all the competing demands of these two intense professions: Paul, I am forever in your debt. Thank you also to my team—Catherine, Anne-Marie, Chris, Casey, Kim, and Erica, as well as the entire staff of
CCBS. You guys make it worth the juggling act. I’m so proud to be associated with you.

  Thank you to my parents, Jerry and Julie; my sisters, Cathryn and Robin; my husband, John; and, of course, my kiddos, Alma and Asher. You hold me together.

  I am grateful to all the bloggers who have helped spread the word, and to the librarians and teachers who took the time to share my books with their students. Thank you for helping this series and this book find its audience. And finally, thank you to my readers. Thanks for giving Lela a chance, for understanding her, and for rooting for her. Thanks for hanging with her and Malachi for three books. Thank you for laughing and crying with these characters, for letting them into your heart. It’s hard for me to let them go, but knowing that you care about them eases the pain of this good-bye.

  Photo © Rebecca Skinner

  SARAH FINE WAS BORN on the West Coast, raised in the Midwest, and is now firmly entrenched on the East Coast, where she lives with her husband and two children. When she’s not writing, she’s working as a child psychologist. No, she is not psychoanalyzing you right now. She is the author of the young adult novels Sanctum, Fractured, Of Metal and Wishes, and Scan. Her first adult fantasy novel, Marked, releases in early 2015 from 47North.

  Find Sarah online at www.sarahfinebooks.com or on Twitter @FineSarah.

  For more information about the Guards of the Shadowlands series, and to read excerpts from Malachi’s personal journals, visit www.GuardsOfTheShadowlands.tumblr.com.

  PRAISE FOR SANCTUM

  Guards of the Shadowlands, Book 1

  “As a modern-day ‘Orpheus and Eurydice,’ Sanctum will be a hit with urban fantasy readers, who will love its top-notch world-building, page-turning action, and slow-developing romance.” —School Library Journal

  “This is one of my favorite books of this year! . . . Smart and sexy.” —Reading Teen blog

  “In this well-developed concept of the afterlife, details are well-executed and the setting is described flawlessly. Without a doubt, readers will look forward to the next installment of the Guards of the Shadowlands series.” —Library Media Connection