Guardians (Seers Trilogy Book 3)

by Heather Frost

  “He drove you here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he mention seeing anyone?” the officer persisted.

  “No. I . . . no.”

  “Do you have any enemies, Miss Bennett? Anyone who would be interested in attacking you?”

  Only most of the Demon population, which you don’t know exists . . . “No. No one.”

  After a few more minutes of questions the officer declared us “nearly done.” “I’ve got to confer with my partner, but we can go out to the lobby and wait for them. We’ll just need a couple of minutes.”

  “And then I can go home?” I asked.

  He half smiled. “Sure. Once we’ve got this cleared up.” It was beyond obvious he thought Patrick’s guilt had been assured in the other room.

  I nodded my thanks to him anyway and slipped off the bed, following him out. Pushing the curtain aside we found ourselves face-to-face with the nurse, who reminded me to take some medication for the headache as soon as I got home. He also suggested rest, and I wasn’t about to disagree.

  Patrick and the other officer—a younger man—were waiting in the corner of the lobby. Patrick silently took my hand and we stood together while we watched the policemen a few paces away, heads bent together, notebooks out.

  I was almost surprised when, a minute later, the younger officer closed his notebook, pocketing it. The older officer frowned, but the younger officer merely shrugged, hands on hips.

  Patrick leaned closer, lips at my ear. “I made sure he believed me.”

  “How?”

  Patrick nearly chuckled—a miracle, considering everything we’d been through today. “I can be persuasive . . . I convinced you once that I wasn’t dangerous, remember?”

  It took me a second to recall the single event he was referring to—one of the first times we’d met, at school; he’d opened the door for me and stared down at me, his eyes so wide and innocent. The moment had inspired an irrational but undeniable trust in him, which he’d later explained as a perk of being a Guardian. I suppose all humans were susceptible to the powerful influence, then, and not just Seers.

  The officers told us we were free to go, assuring us that if they learned anything, they’d let us know.

  Patrick didn’t speak to me again until we were outside, standing next to the Altima.

  He turned toward me and laid his hands gently on either side of my face. His clear blue eyes were riveted on mine. “Kate, I am so sorry. This is completely my fault. This never should have happened.”

  “Patrick, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

  My dubious words faltered when his lips touched gingerly against mine. I leaned closer to him, my own lips just as eager as his. He kissed me slowly, careful to hold my head in place as our mouths moved easily together. The ball of his thumb trembled against my cheek and his other palm slid to support the back of my neck. His breath was thin against my face when he pulled back, but he remained bent over me so he could get a better look at my throat. His shaking hand shifted from my cheek to lightly finger the bruises on my skin—the large handprint almost identical to his.

  His voice was hardly audible. “If anything happened to you, I would be completely lost. When I saw him . . . He could have killed you so easily, Kate, and I couldn’t have stopped him. I was too far away. Too slow.”

  “Patrick.” I spoke his name firmly. His eyes flitted up to mine, and I could see how shaken he really was. “You’re an amazing Guardian. It’s not your fault the Demon Lord wants me so badly.”

  The skin around his eyes tightened. “That doesn’t give me an excuse to slip up. I’ve been taking your safety for granted.”

  “No, you haven’t,” I protested.

  He overrode me. “Kate, he’s just been waiting for me to lower my guard. Nothing like this will happen again. I promise.” I opened my mouth but he slid a thumb over my lips, halting the words. “I need you to tell me anything you can about him,” he said gently. “Anything he said. If Claire didn’t succeed in catching his accomplice, we won’t know how many might still be out there.”

  “He only mentioned one partner.”

  “Did he admit to being sent by the Demon Lord?”

  Sort of . . . But if Patrick learned about the price on my head, he would never relax again.

  “I don’t know. I would assume so. He made a comment—something about how surprised he was by the Demon Lord’s interest in a Seer. That was all.” Mostly.

  Patrick nodded slowly, almost to himself.

  The screech of tires burning rubber caused both our heads to jerk up, and I watched open-mouthed as my grandma swerved the minivan into the parking lot, grating to a stop in a parking spot two down from where we were standing. The engine cut off sharply and the driver’s door snapped open as Grandma pushed out.

  Her aura was redder than I’d ever seen it. The brown pain was hardly visible among all the anger billowing out from her. She slammed the door and lurched up onto the sidewalk, stalking toward us, her eyes furious. I instinctively grabbed Patrick’s hand, hoping to keep him firmly at my side so we could face her wrath together.

  She didn’t even look at me. She stopped short in front of us, jabbed a long finger into Patrick’s chest. “Where in the world were you?” Her voice throbbed with fury. Her hand slashed the air in front of his face, vehement gestures to accentuate her low but passionate words. “Where were you? Where. Were. You? That Demon could have—if she hadn’t run—if you’d just done your—you made her face that Demon on her own! What is the point of you?”

  A rather pale Toni was inching away from the minivan, eyeing Grandma like he’d never really seen her before today. He glanced between Patrick and me with alternating pity and compassion.

  Patrick wasn’t breathing beside me.

  Grandma continued. “If you can’t keep her safe then why are you still here? Do you think that I—Kate, you be quiet!” At last her voice shot up into a yell, cutting off my weak attempt to stop her flow of words. “I’m talking right now, and I’ve been waiting too long to say my piece.”

  Grandma was panting, cheeks flushed, aura flaring as she glared again at Patrick. “Do you think I like having all you Guardians hanging about?” she hissed. “Do you think I like watching you surround my granddaughters day in, day out? You’re the constant reminder that they’re in horrific danger! Jenna and Josie don’t deserve this. Kate doesn’t deserve this! Do you think I like being reminded it was your world that stole my husband from me? You serve as a constant reminder that he’s dead and I don’t know enough about Demons and Guardians to protect my family!” She slammed a palm against Patrick’s unmoving chest, and though the blow wasn’t physically impressive, I flinched, squeezing his hand in comfort.

  Tears burned in her eyes as she slapped his body again. “Do you think I enjoy looking at you every day, thinking of your Demon brother killing my Henry? Don’t you know I imagine it’s you? That he looks just like you!”

  “Grandma!”

  I was shaking. I dropped Patrick’s limp hand and inserted myself between them, grabbing her hand that hung in midair.

  “That’s enough,” I croaked, equal parts mortified and wounded. “Patrick’s the reason I’m alive!” I couldn’t continue. Emotions were too high, clogging my throat.

  Grandma seemed to be suffering from the same problem.

  Toni coughed loudly. “Hate to draw attention to myself in this highly awkward moment, but I feel the need to remind everyone that this isn’t a freaking soap opera, and that we aren’t exactly in a private place.”

  Grandma’s jaw locked. She looked purposefully away from Patrick and clutched my hand tightly. “Come on, Kate. I’m taking you home.”

  “But—”

  She tugged, grip tightening. “Now Kate.”

  I craned around so I could see Patrick. His eyes were hooded, his skin tinged with gray. He didn’t hold my gaze, and his voice sounded oddly parched. “It’s all right. Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

/>   “Yes,” Grandma snapped before I could form an answer. “Behind. Sounds like your usual place lately.”

  “Stop it, please,” I whimpered.

  Patrick’s voice wavered but had a bit more power than before. “Charlotte, let’s get Kate home. Once she’s resting, we can continue this.”

  They’d carry this conversation on later? Without me there to referee? No way was I letting that go down. “But—”

  Grandma’s head bobbed. “Agreed,” she told him.

  “What?” I spluttered.

  Patrick’s hand was on my shoulder. He was finally meeting my eye. “Kate. Go. Really. You need to rest.”

  “You’ll come to the house?” I asked for reassurance.

  He nodded. “I promise.” He looked over my head, past Grandma. “Toni, come on.”

  Grandma pulled on my arm, and I slowly followed her to the van. As Toni slunk past us I could just pick up his whisper to Patrick.

  “I’m sorry, man. She wouldn’t let me take the van alone. And I’m never letting her drive me again—just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I can’t get scared to death . . .”

  Grandma released her grip on me and I rounded the hood, glancing over my shoulder to see Patrick watching me, clearly ignoring his partner. I sighed and climbed into the van.

  As soon as my seat belt was on Grandma spoke. “Are you all right? Did they give you stitches? I saw that crushed mirror at the school, and . . .”

  “Six stitches. I’m fine.”

  “Do we need to stop somewhere and pick up a prescription?”

  “No.” I suddenly felt exhausted.

  We didn’t speak again until we’d pulled into the garage, but the gentle hum of the drive had almost lulled me to sleep by the time she shut off the van. I straightened in my seat and watched Patrick in the side mirror as he eased the Altima into the driveway behind us.

  “Grandma, please don’t yell at him,” I whispered.

  “Don’t worry about that,” she replied gruffly, opening her door.

  I pushed open my own door and Patrick was there to catch it. He helped lower me out, one arm flexed firmly around my waist for support. He helped me into the house, Grandma just in front of us, Toni trailing behind. Grandma opened doors and led the way up to my bedroom; she even pulled down my blankets for me. “I’ll get you some Tylenol,” she murmured roughly.

  She trod out of the room toward the bathroom, and Patrick held my arm protectively as I sat down. I noticed Toni hadn’t followed us up.

  I reached toward my head with one scraped-up hand, searching for the elastic that held my somewhat askew ponytail. My arm was heavier than I thought, though, and I could barely lift it past my shoulder.

  “What do you need?” he whispered, concerned with my feeble movements.

  “My ponytail,” I muttered, allowing my hand to fall to my lap. “It’s driving me crazy.”

  He responded immediately, his fingertips brushing fleetingly against my scalp as he carefully uncurled the elastic from my hair. He was just running his fingers against the freed locks when Grandma came back inside carrying a glass of water and a couple small tablets. She handed them to me and then turned to face Patrick.

  “Would you please wait for me in the family room?” Her deep voice brooked no arguments.

  He bowed his head respectfully. “Of course.” He waited until I finished swallowing my pills, then he bent to press his lips to my forehead. “I’ll be right downstairs,” he breathed.

  I reached for his hand, and once it was in my grip I gently kissed his fingertips. I spoke against his skin, my voice tired but sincere. “Thank you.”

  Grandma cleared her throat and Patrick obediently pulled free of my hand. He glanced over at my grandmother, and then he moved for the door. He was in the doorway when I called softly, “Patrick?”

  He paused, looking over his shoulder with one hand caught on the door’s frame. “Yes?”

  I had so many things I wanted to say. I settled for a simple, “I love you.”

  He swallowed hard, returned the sentiment quietly, then he was gone.

  Grandma closed the door behind him, emotions fighting for dominance in her eyes and aura. It was easy to see she was trying to force back any compassion so she could maintain her strict anger. She helped me change into something more comfortable and then tucked me carefully into my bed. “Call if you need me,” she said gruffly. “I’ll be up to check on you in a while.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.”

  She almost seemed surprised by my words, after our silent drive. “Just get some sleep, all right?” she said at last.

  I blinked heavily. It was amazing how tired I was. Still, there was something important I needed to convey before I slipped into unconsciousness. “Please don’t yell at him anymore. Please don’t blame him for things he didn’t even do.”

  She patted my quilt around me. “Never mind about that.”

  “He’s already blaming himself more than enough. For everything. Even for what happened to Grandpa . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it, Kate,” she repeated firmly.

  She closed the door when she left, and that’s when I knew without a doubt that she was on her way to chew him out. I wanted more than anything to get up and defend him, but now that I was lying in my cool bedroom—feeling completely safe, the world no longer spinning, the adrenaline no longer pumping, no longer forced to keep my eyes open—I didn’t have the energy to move.

  Sleep came fast.

  Eight

  I woke up to a throbbing headache. The medicine had worn off, which told me I’d been asleep for a couple hours at least, though it felt like I’d hardly slept at all. I squinted at the clock on my bedside, finding it was already 2:07 p.m. Later than I’d first realized.

  “Ah! You’re not dead, then,” a cheerful voice called from across the room.

  I stared past my feet to see Toni, watching me from the chair at my desk. He’d been doing something on my laptop, but now that he saw I was awake he was plucking out his earbuds and swiveling around to face me.

  My voice was dry. “Toni? What are you doing in my room?”

  He shrugged. “Watching you sleep. I enjoy watching you sleep . . . Isn’t that what that one vampire dude says in that one book about that one girl?”

  “Huh?”

  He went back to answering my original question. “I’m making sure you don’t slip into a coma or stop breathing. I know—talk about overprotective. But you’ve been asleep for a long time. You were making some people anxious.” He suddenly grinned. “And can I just say, I had no idea your head was such a weapon. That dude’s mirror was completely smashed! We should have trained you with some nice head-butting to work up your skill set.”

  I rubbed at my eyes, more grateful for his humor than I let on. It was a lot better than the serious edge everyone else seemed to be using today. “Do you think you could go get me some more Tylenol?”

  He stood at once. “Sure. But you probably should eat something too. Anything sound good?”

  “Not really.”

  “Sweet. I’ll bring you something random, and you can’t be disappointed.”

  He walked toward my door, but before he could make it there I called him back. “Is Patrick still downstairs?”

  He hesitated. “Will you be mad if I say no?”

  “Only if you’re lying.” But the disappointment was clear in my tone.

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “He’s actually at the warehouse, packing.”

  “Packing!” I immediately regretted my raised voice, and the instinctive lurch of my pained head as I pushed myself up into a weak sitting position.

  He held out his hands, palms out, urging me to stay calm and remain leaning up against the headboard. “Whoa! Let’s not blow a single word out of proportion. He’s not packing, packing, he’s packing, packing. As in, he’s moving, not leaving.”

  “Moving? Where?” Surely Grandma wouldn’t have said anything that would drive him
to something this drastic?

  “You know your dad’s old den? That’s where he’s moving.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Patrick’s moving into my house?”

  He nodded easily. “Your house, our house . . . which happens to be in the middle of the street . . .”

  “Why is he moving in?” I overrode his attempt at humor.

  “Seriously? You didn’t get that line? You know, from that song—?”

  “Toni, please!”

  I must have looked really pathetic, because he actually listened to me. “Well, you were there for the parking lot scene, and the home version was marginally worse. I mean, like, really worse. I now know where Josie gets her impressive set of lungs. Wow, your grandmother freaks me out sometimes.”

  I cringed. “Was it that bad?”

  Toni grimaced. “You saw the preview—just envision that but more intense. Your Grandma was obviously letting a lot of pent-up emotions explode out of her and rip into him, poor guy. He was taking it in that really humble way of his too. Up until the point she started accusing him of not really caring about you.”

  “She what?” I gasped.

  He nodded sincerely. “You better believe it. I’m probably not supposed to be telling you this . . .” He shrugged and continued. “But anyway, she accused him of caring more about his own feelings than worrying about you and yours. That’s when he found his voice. And—honestly, I can’t believe you slept through all this!—they’ve reached a pretty delicate understanding, but I wouldn’t recommend being alone in a room with them for a while. Tylenol?”

  I groaned. “If she’s so mad at him, why is she letting him move in?”

  “Because in the end they both want the same thing: your safety. Patrick’s convinced Demons are going to start jumping out of thin air now. He wants to be as close as possible.”

  “What about the twins?”

  “They never go in your dad’s den. That’s what dear Grandma said.” He shrugged. “I spend most my days there without a problem.”

  “But you’re invisible.”

  “As Patrick will be,” he reminded me, his tone carrying the opinion that maybe my head had been damaged more extensively than previously thought.