Guardians (Seers Trilogy Book 3)

by Heather Frost

  “I disagree. I love you. Nothing is more important to me than your happiness.”

  He looked a little taken aback. Maybe stricken was the better word. “Please, can we just drop this?” he pleaded. “What happened to that normal date we were supposed to be having?”

  I ignored his last comment. “You’re being unnecessarily difficult. What could be so dangerous about my going back to see your father?”

  He didn’t answer for a long minute. His clear eyes were hard to read. So many emotions were warring inside him that it was almost impossible to guess what he was thinking. The only thing clear to me was his pain. And above all, I wanted that to end.

  Finally he spoke carefully. “If anything happened to you, Kate, I would never forgive myself. For as long as I existed, I wouldn’t stop blaming myself. And I’ve never felt so helpless or useless as when you traveled to the past. I couldn’t protect you there, because I couldn’t follow you. Can you understand that? Letting you go—even for that split second—was the . . . the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. If something happened to you in the past . . . what if I lost you?”

  I wasn’t sure how to argue, so I made the first observation that came to mind. “Did it occur to you that I might be safer in the past? At least then I don’t have the Demon Lord after me.”

  “He can travel too,” Patrick pointed out evenly.

  “Do you honestly think traveling is more dangerous than being here?”

  “At least I’m with you when you’re here. I can protect you here. As long as I’m with you, Kate, I can keep you safe.”

  His hand was no longer a fist beneath my palm. He was gripping my fingers on the table, as if he could hold me here forever. I understood his protectiveness. I just didn’t understand why he thought my visiting his father was such a bad idea. I personally believed it was inspired. But how was I supposed to convince him of that?

  Before I could come up with a good reply, our server stepped up to the table, invading the space between us.

  Patrick released my hand and I drew back to make room for our pizza on the table. The server set out a plate for each of us, placing our napkin-wrapped silverware on the side. He told us to enjoy our meal, and then he retreated.

  I pulled in a deep breath, meant to brace myself for the resuming of our disagreement. Instead, I got a giant mouth-watering whiff of the warm crust, melted cheese, and perfectly spiced sauce. My stomach growled without my permission. It wasn’t loud, but loud enough.

  Patrick’s stiff shoulders relaxed and he forced a smile that was sincere except for the lingering tenseness in his eyes. “Perhaps we should put this discussion off until after our attempt at a normal date.”

  I nodded once, because I knew he was stubborn enough to hang on to his reservations all night. “If you’d like.”

  His lips pressed together a second before he spoke again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for your offer. I just—”

  I forced a smile. “It’s okay. We can try being normal again. It lasted all of what, five minutes last time?”

  “I’m not very good at normal, it seems.”

  “Neither am I, I guess.” I hesitated then reached out for the spatula that had been slipped under one of the large slices. I lifted the piece up and waited for Patrick to hold out his plate.

  Soon we were eating, both of us trying to avoid anything that would bring us back to the topics we’d already covered. We talked about school, which brought us to Lee. We both saw that would ultimately take us to Peter Keegan, so Patrick deftly steered over to what classes I was taking next semester. Before I knew it, we were discussing possible college options, almost like we were a normal couple. I hadn’t really thought of what would happen after high school lately, because I’d been so focused on my more immediate fate. But the way Patrick talked about the future made it sound like life could continue, even if I was an enemy to the Demon Lord. I don’t know how much I believed him, but it was nice to talk about different universities, possible cities to live in. The best part was knowing even if Terence somehow managed to fix things and I no longer needed several bodyguards, Patrick still planned on being with me. It was great to know that when Patrick said he would love me forever, he meant it. Even if the Demons were persuaded to believe I was unimportant, Patrick fully intended to stay with me.

  The seriousness of our relationship didn’t scare me, like I used to worry about me and Aaron. How I felt about Patrick was something that would never change; I would always love him, and he would always love me.

  True, this came with problems. I was aging every second, while Patrick remained untouched by time. And though it didn’t make sense that I wasn’t afraid about what would happen when our time together ran out, I had complete faith in Pastor O’Donnell’s promise that everything would work out in the end.

  We were nearing the end of dinner. For the past fifteen minutes or so we’d been asking questions back and forth. We’d covered most embarrassing moments, favorite childhood memories, and Patrick’s favorite decades to live in—all of the really obvious stuff.

  It was back to my turn now. “Okay—did you ever know any grandparents?”

  He pursed his lips, then slowly shook his head. “Not really. My father’s mother lived the longest, but she barely saw Sean’s first steps. I hardly remember her at all.”

  I was saddened at the thought because my grandparents had always been such an integral part of my life.

  He took a small bite of his remaining pizza, hurried to chew and swallow, then he cleared his throat. “The thing you miss most about being under ten years old?”

  “Under ten? What kind of a question is that?”

  “You have to answer it—the rules, remember?”

  “What I miss most . . .” I was twisting the straw in my drink, forcing the melting ice to clink against the sides of the glass. “Bedtime stories,” I finally decided. “My mom or dad would read with me almost every night. Saturday night was the best. We’d all sit on their big bed, and Dad would read a book of our choice.”

  His smile was gentle and full. “Most children hate bedtime,” he pointed out, almost as an afterthought.

  “Did you?”

  “Does that count as your question?” he joked. He shook his head. “No, I didn’t hate it. I liked the time to think. But sometimes I would have preferred staying up all night. I hated stopping when I was in the middle of a project.”

  “Can I ask how old you were when you started to paint?”

  “If that’s your question . . .”

  I hesitated. “I had another one I wanted to ask.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re getting a lot more out of me than I am out of you.” He blew out his breath, letting himself think back over two hundred years. “I was painting before I learned to read. I wasn’t quite three when my mother took me out to her garden with her. I used the mud and smeared it over a large rock, and somehow she recognized it was a flower. I had a few scattered lessons, but most I picked up on my own.”

  “I’ve still never seen you paint,” I mused regretfully.

  “Don’t you dare complain—I’ve never seen any of your work, and you’ve already seen my terrible sketches.”

  “Maybe that’s why I’m nervous about sharing,” I hinted. “Your terrible is really pretty amazing.”

  He smiled ruefully but didn’t verbally reply. He was waiting for my next question. It was one I’d wanted to ask since we’d begun this question game, but the time had never seemed right. Not that right now felt perfect, but the meal was wrapping up and I was intensely curious.

  I made myself meet his eyes, though even before I opened my mouth I could feel the blush starting on my cheeks. “Okay, here’s my question: I was wondering if . . . Did you ever kiss Sarah McKenna?”

  He didn’t laugh, but his mouth twisted and his eyes glowed. “Are you jealous?” The thought obviously amused him.

  “No.” But I’d answered too quickly, and he clearly d
idn’t believe me. I tried to explain. “I’m not jealous, and I’m not worried—I was just curious. She was incredibly beautiful, and she obviously had a crush on you.”

  “A crush on me, huh?” He leaned back in his chair, reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “Are you sure you’re not jealous? Because you’re getting a little red there.”

  “Are you enjoying this or something?”

  “Something.” He nodded with a half grin. “Maybe now you’ll have some sympathy for me. Watching you with Aaron was never easy.”

  “Did you . . . love her?”

  He watched me for several seconds before responding. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. I didn’t ever love her. I was quite fond of her, and she had similar fascinations, but I never loved her. I’ve only ever loved one girl.”

  My blush deepened. “But did you ever kiss her?” I pressed.

  His head bobbed. “Once. A few days before Sean and I left to join the United Irishmen. I went to her house, because I knew it was something I had to do. I didn’t go over there thinking I would kiss her—she kissed me, on her doorstep. It was a first kiss for both of us.”

  It was easy to imagine the scene. Moonlight, picturesque Ireland, their hands unsure of where to rest. It sounded like the perfect first kiss. “But you never loved her?”

  “She was my friend. Aside from my family, she understood me the most. But I was never in love with her. I was taken with her, but she never stole my heart.”

  “Are you calling me a thief?”

  His blue eyes were bright. “Maybe Toni was right when he said everyone’s a thief at heart.” He leaned forward suddenly, balancing his hands on the edge of the table. “Do I get one last question? It only seems fair, after you got so many in a row.”

  “All right,” I agreed.

  His arm slipped around the almost empty pizza pan, his fingers seeking mine. I surrendered my hand, and, for some reason, my heart started to pound.

  His voice was steady and calm. “Do you love me, Kate Bennett?”

  I stared at him, wondering where this was coming from. “Yes. Of course I do.”

  He smiled thinly, his beautiful eyes devoted solely to me. “Thank you.” It looked like he might have expounded on that, but instead he settled for a quick, “Do you like bowling?”

  I gave him a strange look but squeezed his hand affectionately. “Um, yeah. Do you?”

  He shrugged a single shoulder. “I haven’t gone bowling for fifteen years or so, but I enjoyed it last time.”

  I chuckled. “I might actually beat you on this one.”

  He grinned. “We’ll see.”

  It took him several minutes to relearn the art of bowling, once we reached the alley, but he was good enough that even my head start barely saved me. I was able to win the game, though it was close. Amid the light teasing, high fives, and some pretty intense victory dances, it was almost easy to forget Demons even existed. I couldn’t speak for Patrick, but this was one of the first times our relationship had ever felt completely normal. We were young, full of life, and deeply in love.

  When the game was over I entrusted him with my purse so I could run to the bathroom. I offered to meet him at the car, but he assured me he’d wait by the front double doors. I wandered to the back of the crowded building, surprised when I pushed into the bathroom to find only one other girl inside. She was washing her hands and our eyes met in the mirror for a brief second. I gave a timid smile, which she returned a little awkwardly. I hurried into the first available stall, wondering if I was the cause of the green cloud of unease in her aura.

  I heard the water at the sink turn off, some paper towels were cranked out, and then a half minute later the door thumped closed. I was alone.

  It wasn’t until I was washing my hands in the empty bathroom that my phone rang. I shut off the water and quickly moved to the towel dispenser. As soon as my hands could pass for semidry, I pulled the phone out of my pocket to look at the display.

  Terence.

  I flipped it open and set it against my ear. “Hello?”

  “Kate, I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

  “Uh, no. Not really.” My voice rang out around the tiled room and I hoped he wouldn’t be able to guess where I was; that would be infinitely more embarrassing than meeting eyes with a stranger in the bathroom.

  “Good. I’m calling to let you know I’ll be in town tomorrow, and I was hoping we could meet somewhere around noon.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I know it’s short notice. I can’t say much over the phone, but I would appreciate it if you and Patrick could both meet me at the malt shop. It looked like a charming place when I drove past it on my last visit.”

  “Just me and Patrick?”

  “Yes, if that’s possible. I wasn’t able to get a hold of him, but I assume you can pass the word along?”

  “You couldn’t get a hold of him?” I asked.

  He heard the note of surprise in my voice. “No, he didn’t answer his phone. I assumed he was off duty and sleeping. Is something wrong?”

  “Uh, no. Maybe he left it in the car.”

  “You’re together?”

  “Yeah. We went out.”

  “I see.” Sometimes I wondered what Terence thought of our relationship, but I didn’t think I’d ever get up the courage to ask him. He always seemed pleasant about it, but it was the same kind of acceptance one might feel toward a mosquito bite—a fact of life and unavoidable. At least he wasn’t openly against our being together. He was too kind for that. I got the feeling he believed our relationship wasn’t worth the stress or distractions, but he probably assumed it would pass soon enough.

  He was speaking again, breaking into my thoughts. “Well, I can’t stay on the line long. There are a few things I need to take care of before I leave town. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “At noon,” I assured him.

  “Good, good. I’ll see you then.”

  We exchanged quick good-byes and then I shut my phone, moving for the bathroom door. I wasn’t worried about Patrick ignoring Terence’s call. Yet. But I was anxious to get back to him. Walking into the main room of the bowling alley made me realize how much quieter it had been inside the bathroom, and I found my step quickening in an effort to escape the rush of noise.

  I stepped through a large group of teenagers who were waiting in line to rent their shoes, and then I was facing the front doors. I glanced around, but I didn’t see Patrick. Maybe he’d decided to go out to the car? That made more sense than him moving back into the crowded bowling alley. The first real strings of worry wrapped around my insides as I pushed through the doors into the cool night air.

  Although it was dark, the neon lights from the bowling alley kept the parking lot lit. This wasn’t the most popular bowling alley in town, but the parking lot was still quite full. Several distant voices punctuated the night, though I couldn’t see anyone.

  I started moving along the building, heading toward the far end of the row where Patrick had parked. I was still a couple cars away from the Altima when I realized the car was empty, and he wasn’t standing anywhere around it.

  That was when I started to really worry.

  Four

  Patrick O’Donnell

  I stood just inside the front doors of the bowling alley, my trained eyes flitting carefully around the room while I waited for Kate to return. To an outsider I may have appeared relaxed, but part of being a Guardian meant never being completely at ease. Her purse dangled at the end of one slack arm, but my fingers were unconsciously tight. Though I didn’t enjoy being apart from her, I was content to have a few minutes to myself.

  All things considered, the night had been a good one. Perhaps amazing might be the better word. I had not yet reached the point where I took Kate’s love for granted. Maybe I never would. Every moment I had with her was a miracle, every smile she spared on me a blessing. Getting the chance to learn more about her over the course
of the evening had been everything I could have imagined. It was the rocky beginning that haunted me, that made me almost relieved to have a moment alone, almost desperate for the night to be over, despite the other wonderful moments we’d shared.

  She was the last person on earth I wanted to discuss Sean with. She was the last person that deserved to know how much I still cared for that monster. Despite everything he’d done, full-on hatred for him had yet to come. I’d felt glimpses of it, especially during Henry Bennett’s funeral and the days immediately following. But the predominant and overwhelming emotion was simple pain. Sometimes I would wake in the night with tears in my eyes. Tears of hurt and betrayal. I’d given everything so Sean could live, and yet he’d tried to kill me—would have killed me, if not for Kate’s saving efforts. Perhaps the thing that angered me most about the entire situation was the fact I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do the necessary thing. I feared that when the time came, I might not be able to end his life. The thought of killing my own brother—no matter how evil he’d become—made me sick inside. And what if, in that moment of hesitation, Kate was brought to harm? I’d never forgive myself.

  This complicated issue wasn’t the only one brought up tonight, though, and it certainly wasn’t the worst. I understood she believed she was doing me a favor by volunteering to go back in time and see my father. But she didn’t know the things I knew. She hadn’t seen our fate, like I had.

  Kate didn’t know I’d witnessed her ultimate death. She had no idea I’d held a future version of her in my arms while she tried to give me a senseless message. Though I’d had a month to ponder and dread that unreal visit, it still produced more questions than answers. The future Kate was clearly dying, her stomach and chest covered in blood from gunshot wounds. Even without that sure source of death, her coming to her own past was suicidal. But she’d overlooked all that.

  Why would she do that? What event in the future could possibly drive her to such desperate extremes? Could the future be so grim that sacrificing her life seemed the only option? Her continued words seemed to indicate it was.