Patrick’s arm around Jenna tightened, as if that feeble gesture could protect her from the imminent danger. From me.
His words accosted me. “How many are there? How many?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
“What’s going on?” Josie demanded, fear tingeing her words. “Patrick, what’s happening?”
Patrick grabbed Josie’s arm, yanking her closer, eyes firmly on me. “Take Jenna,” he ordered Josie lowly. “Run to the barn. Hide. Don’t come out for anyone but me. Go!”
“But—”
“Go!”
Josie grabbed her sister’s left arm, frightened enough by Patrick’s fierce tone that she didn’t ask questions. They jogged lightly away, obediently headed for the barn.
A strange lump clogged my throat. Without thinking, my legs lurched to follow them, an instinct I couldn’t ignore though it defied my whole being. They couldn’t go off on their own—Yuri would find them.
Patrick countered my move by mirroring it, and we both froze. We were mere paces away, glaring each other down.
“I didn’t come for you,” I growled at last. “I came for them.”
And that means others want them too. Don’t send them away. It’s not safe, don’t you understand? Why couldn’t I make myself add the words?
Patrick’s hands rolled into trembling fists. “You’re not going to touch them.”
“You don’t understand—”
“What are you doing here?” Patrick cut in angrily. “How did you find this place?”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to.
His teeth clenched tightly. “What have you done? Where’s Kate?”
“Probably right where you left her,” I said, not trying to soften my words.
His eyes flashed. And then he charged me with his bare hands. I don’t know why I didn’t pull my gun. I could have. I had enough time. But I didn’t. I let him slam into me, knocking us both to the hard ground.
We hit jarringly and he clutched the cloth around my neck, skidding my back over the grass. The gun bruised my skin, but I could feel it healing in the same instant. Patrick slammed my head harshly into the earth and my vision blurred from the impact.
“Where is she?” he hissed, kneeling over me and looking angry enough to kill.
I stared into his eyes, wishing it didn’t have to be like this. But that thought alone surprised me. I hated him. I wanted to hate him. I needed to hate him.
I loved to hate him.
I went for honesty, since it would be the most painful for him to hear. “With the Demon Lord. Where she’s going to die.”
His chest expanded harshly, a split second before his doubled fist buckled my nose.
I gasped from the pain and felt the blood cover my face though the bones and sinew were already shifting back into place.
“Where is she?”
Another punch, breaking my nose again.
My eyes were watering, but the pain was doing its job. I was remembering why I was here. I was becoming Fear Dearg again.
I kicked him off me, my retaliation so sudden he could hardly prepare himself. He was too emotional, distracted, and frantic. His grip pulled my body over with him, so I was now straddling him. I delivered a powerful blow to his face, affording him a taste of my pain. His cracked nose spurted blood and before it could fully heal I was striking him again. He growled in fury, but his hurt was undeniable. My second punch dislodged his jaw.
I continued to hammer him with my tight fist, my other hand clutching his shoulder, pinning him down.
I heard the back door open, heard Yuri’s even yell. “I see them!” His footsteps leaped, making the long jump off the porch, and then he was running after the twins.
Jenna. Josie.
Sean.
Patrick was struggling more desperately beneath me. His blind rage shifted, becoming more focused with the knowledge that the twins were being pursued. Whatever help he thought he’d had in the form of a man named Jack, he was beginning to realize he didn’t have it anymore. He tried to lift a knee and take me off guard, tried to claw the flesh from my arm. But I wasn’t worried. He would fail, because I was stronger.
I could see to my brother and let Yuri take care of the twins. I could torture Patrick for as long as I wanted, injecting him with a deviant strain of the virus only when I was ready to end his life. I didn’t have to agonize over this. I didn’t have to think. I could just be Fear Dearg.
Jenna.
Josie.
. . . Sean.
It would be easy. Not only that, it would feel so good. To see him suffer. To hear him scream.
Your father loves you.
Only because he didn’t know what I’d become.
My eyes were stinging. Had something gotten inside? Sweat, blood, dirt? Certainly I wasn’t crying. Fear Dearg didn’t cry.
But that’s not the point. You don’t even need to know they love you, really. Not when you love them.
I didn’t love them. I hated them all.
You love Patrick.
No. I wanted to kill him.
You just want to know that he can still love you, after everything you’ve done.
No!
I was crying. I could feel the tears darting down my face, mingling with the blood. I tightened my grip on my brother, afraid to lose my hate. If I lost that, what did I have? Nothing.
One of the twins screamed.
Something in me snapped.
I shoved away from Patrick, gaining such speed I felt likeI was flying. I jumped over a thin flower bed that lined the main backyard, leaving Patrick behind. I swiped an arm over my face, sweeping off a layer of blood. The barn loomed in my view, the wide open doors inviting me to cross the flat land even faster. I could make out the forms of three people, two small and one large, just inside the spacious building. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I got there, but I needed to get inside. That’s all I knew.
Because you can’t deny your emotions anymore, Sean. Not when I’ve finally gotten you to admit they’re there.
That’s when I realized the voice I’d been hearing inside my head wasn’t my own. It wasn’t even the long-buried part of me, the part I called Sean. No. It belonged to someone else. Someone, I realized, I’d been hearing since Patrick escaped me in Vegas.
I felt an intense spike of anger, causing me to nearly trip. Who are you? I demanded, maintaining a staggering run.
No need to get upset. You’re the one who let me in. I couldn’t have gotten this much voice if you’d kept blocking me. But we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m Henry Bennett.
A horrible guilt washed over me as the image of Henry Bennett’s face swam before my eyes. It wasn’t something I was used to, this guilt; surprisingly, it hurt more than anything I’d ever felt before. More than physical torture, more than betrayal, more than abandonment; I felt more pain than I’d felt that night in the ally, after killing the stranger for a few francs.
You’re . . . in my head? The idea was preposterous, no matter who he was. It was insane. Infuriating. Disturbing. Had he been manipulating me for weeks? Had he forced me to feel that guilt?
Not exactly, but frankly it doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is, you’ve opened yourself up to your emotions again. You can’t shut out the guilt, the caring. It’s a part of you again. You chose to revive your conscience the moment you started running after the girls, and now it can’t be silenced.
The gravel shifted beneath me, slowing me down further. Why was I even running? I didn’t really want to help those girls. Their dead grandfather was forcing me . . . The man I’d killed . . .
I can’t stick around forever, Sean. What’s it going to be? Are you going to accept that this was your choice, or are you going to pass along the blame again? It’s up to you. You’re the only one who can save my girls. You’re the only one who can save yourself. So get to work.
His voice vanished. My head felt strangely empty. But my chest felt tight, swollen. The m
an I’d killed had been forcing me to confront my emotions. And according to him, I’d chosen to be Sean again. But had I? All I felt was confusion. Pain.
The sheer weight of my emotions were going to destroy me.
My legs locked when I reached the massive barn doorway, panting with my arms swinging, unsure of what I was going to do.
They were just inside the barn. The twins hadn’t had enough time to hide, and they definitely hadn’t stood a chance against someone like Yuri Dmitriev. He had Jenna pinned brutally on the ground, a boot digging into her stomach to keep her there. Her crooked arm was lying near the side of her head at an odd angle. She was sobbing, a combination of pain and fear.
Josie was suspended in a stranglehold, her jerking legs kicking at the man who held her. He was suffocating her—exactly what I’d planned to do to both of them.
That thought caused me to flinch. But I still couldn’t move. Sean or Fear Dearg?
Josie’s bare foot swung wildly, ineffective. Annoying, at best. She was grabbing, scratching at his arm with those small fingers, fingers that had touched me only minutes ago, full of trust. She couldn’t possibly breathe.
Jenna was hysterical on the ground. “Let her go!” she choked through her tears.
Throat constricted, I stumbled forward.
Josie wasn’t in a position to notice my approach, but Jenna caught sight of me. She began to slam her good hand against Yuri’s leg. “Sean!” she burst out. “Sean, help!”
Yuri’s head jerked around, confused by her cries. He saw me barreling toward him, and his eyes widened when he realized I didn’t intend to stop—something that took me by surprise as well. He threw Josie away from him, unconcerned about how hard she hit the floor. He managed to swivel off Jenna before I tackled him.
We rolled in the loose hay, each of us grappling for a solid grip on the other.
“What are you doing?” he grunted as I pressed him into the ground.
My fist in his face was his only answer.
He replied by chopping the edge of his hand into my throat, cutting off my air for a prolonged second that gave him enough time to shove away from me. We both rolled to our feet, my eyes still flaring with pain.
I heard Jenna shriek Patrick’s name. So he’d followed me. I wasn’t really surprised. I hoped he had the sense to get them out before I killed Yuri. No young child should have to witness such a thing.
With my peripheral vision I saw Patrick put himself in front of the girls, but he still hadn’t armed himself. Did he not have a knife? I could see Josie and Jenna huddled on the ground behind him, neither of them in any condition to run for safety. Patrick knew that, and, even though he had no weapon with which to defend them, he’d still put himself between them and danger.
A few paces away from me Yuri drew out his gun. He aimed it at my defensively crouched brother.
“Stop!” I ordered, though I knew Yuri wouldn’t listen. I’d attacked him. He didn’t understand my actions, but he intended to follow the master’s orders.
I dove for Yuri the same instant he pulled the trigger. The gunshot exploded the air. The girls screamed in unison, and I caught sight of Patrick crumpling. He’d taken the bullet without flinching.
How did I, at the same moment, both hate and admire his bravery? Was it because I was reminded of his death? I’d never seen him get shot in Ireland, only seen his cold body.
But Patrick had always been brave, selfless. That’s why he’d tried to leave me behind when our father demanded we joined the United Irishmen. And, if I was going to all this trouble of being honest, it was why he’d become a Guardian in the first place. To protect me.
A memory I hadn’t recalled for so long flooded my mind in flashing images. The big yew tree behind Father’s church. A dare to jump from the highest limb and onto the roof; Patrick following me, undaunted by his fear of heights. The two of us fighting, though outnumbered, to defend each other.
Patrick had always been there for me. Even when I’d been an idiot.
I growled as I reached Yuri, knocking the warm pistol from his hand with a fluid swipe I’d used hundreds of times to disarm my enemies. Yuri lurched back a step and our eyes met. We both sank into practiced positions, each of us poised to attack, neither of us wanting to make the first move.
It didn’t escape my attention that I’d managed to put myself in front of the twins. I was their protector, now that Patrick was down.
“Patrick!” Jenna or Josie cried out in delayed shock. The shout was followed by a wounded groan.
I kicked Yuri’s gun back with my heel, hoping it wouldn’t hit Patrick but put it within reach in case he could recover enough to use it. I also hoped the twins knew enough about guns to leave it alone.
Yuri’s lip curled. “The Demon Lord will not forgive you for this, Far Darrig. He’ll personally send you back to Prison for this treachery!”
“I’ll save him a spot.”
“What’s happened?” Yuri snarled. “What are you doing?”
“Sean!”
It might have been Jenna. And though I didn’t turn, my eyes flickered.
It was the distraction Yuri had been waiting for. He kicked, foot landing on my left kneecap. There was a horrible crack and my whole leg flared in vivid pain. I limped precariously but exaggerated the stagger. Yuri fell for the ruse, taking a step closer. I swung my healed leg up and buried my foot in his stomach, hard, using his forward momentum against him. He nearly buckled but managed to keep on his feet by stumbling back.
“Sean!” Jenna repeated, frightened.
“Get out of here!” I shouted, worried she might try to approach me and get in the way. I lunged at Yuri before he could fully straighten.
Yuri was good—he knew how to fight in close quarters. Hand-to-hand combat was a specialty of his. But that was fine; it was a specialty of mine. And I was better because I had emotion on my side. The image of him shooting my brother, hurting the two girls who’d called for my help . . . I was unstoppable.
We were both covered in blood, but I didn’t have a way to kill him. I didn’t have a knife, since Demons don’t generally carry the only weapon that had the ability to kill them. I only had my gun, and I couldn’t keep him down long enough to bring it out, not that it would be a permanent solution.
Too late I realized Yuri had a drawn knife. It went against a Demon’s basic instinct to have a knife, so I hadn’t imagined he’d be carrying one. But then Demons were so treacherous you never knew who was going to try stabbing you—it could be a good idea to have one on hand, in case another Demon attempted to double-cross you.
I guess I should have realized a killer as ruthless and practiced as Yuri would trust no one. Not even me, the Demon Lord’s right hand.
His dagger was buried in my shoulder a split second later, but only because I shifted at the last possible second—it should have landed in my heart.
Still, it was painful. It froze my body, allowing Yuri to kick away from me. He rolled to his knees, a foot away from where I lay on my side, bleeding. Eyes blazing, he reached for a second blade, ready to end me.
His hand patted over empty space. He looked down, shocked that it was gone.
“Looking for this?” Patrick grunted.
I raised my head, looking over at my brother with a wince. His eyes were dark. His grim face was smeared with blood and he was facing Yuri with the handgun extended. In his other hand he clutched a knife, one he’d either snatched from Yuri’s belt when we’d rolled nearer to them or one he’d picked up from the floor, lost during the scuffle.
Yuri’s mouth twitched angrily. He leaned toward me, maybe thinking he could get the dagger he’d buried in me so he could finish the job.
Patrick was faster. Another gunshot blasted Yuri backward. He tripped over me and fell onto his back. I jerked the knife out of my shoulder and heaved myself up. I saw Yuri’s eyes widen, then I shoved the bloody knife into his heart. His head lolled, his expression softened in death.
T
here was a short silence in the barn. I didn’t dare twist around right away. I didn’t want to see Patrick level that gun at me. I didn’t want him to look at me like I was a monster.
Which was stupid, because that’s exactly what I was. It didn’t matter that I could feel again or that I’d rushed to defend the twins. I was still a Demon.
Why hadn’t he shot me yet?
I heard whimpering and realized why he was delaying. The twins were still in the barn. He hadn’t taken them out, because he couldn’t turn his back on a Demon as dangerous as me.
I closed my eyes and eased up to a standing position. I turned slowly, not sure what else to do but face him.
Patrick was staring at me, the gun still aimed in my direction, supported by a steady arm. Between Patrick’s widespread legs I could see the twins huddled together on the floor, both of them watching me as well. My eyes flickered back up to my brother.
A strange mix of emotions contorted Patrick’s face: pain, hurt, worry, surprise, hope. I watched him, waiting for him to do it. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger, shoot me to stun me, and then plunge that knife into my heart while I was blinded by pain. It would be so easy. He could ensure the twins’ safety. Why wasn’t he doing it?
“Well?” I asked him mutely. “Aren’t you going to do it?”
Patrick was watching me with a sharp gaze, one that conveyed distrust and . . . regret? So I wasn’t the only one to regret the past. Good. Regret was painful.
Even as the thought entered my mind I was plagued by doubt—I wasn’t sure I wanted him to feel pain anymore.
Patrick took a step toward me and spoke quietly, trying to keep the words from the young girls. “Why? Why did you do it?”
“Because I hated you,” I said, wondering if he’d register the fact that I’d used past tense.
His jaw flexed. “No. Not that. Why did you attack him?”
“Yuri?” I asked, surprised we were even talking about this. Didn’t he want to talk about Kate? About the Demon Lord’s plans? About my desire to kill my own brother?
Patrick frowned. “Yes. Yuri. Why?”
I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. “He was hurting them.”
The confusion was evident in his voice. “But that’s why you came here.”
Guardians (Seers Trilogy Book 3) Page 33
