Vendetta

by Katie Klein

  I'm unarmed.

  The Diabol emits a satisfied laugh. I kick at him as he reaches for me. He takes every one, unflinching. I spin, rolling over on the sand, clambering to my feet. The demon grabs my ankle, twisting me back around.

  Everything happens so quickly.

  I see the glint of the blade in the moonlight before I feel it grazing my skin, because in the next moment Seth intertwines my fingers with his and pulls me to my feet, driving me into him. I crash against his body and, all at once, we're falling. My head swirls dizzily as we tumble to the ground.

  The gritty sand scrapes my palms and knees. I can barely see it's so dark. I examine my hands. A few grains sparkle, shimmering, but everything else is swathed in shades of gray. The entire world is blanketed in a sheer gloom, as if permanently veiled by thunderclouds or nightfall.

  Seth crouches low beside me, eyes trained on the Diabol. He's surrounded by a halo of light—the only light—everything about him enveloped in a soft, ethereal glow. I brush my fingers across it and it moves, swirling, disappearing. His skin is smooth, but harder. He feels stronger, somehow. Less like a human and more like something godly. Everlasting. The light flows through my fingertips as I touch him and wraps me in a white haze.

  "Seth, play fair." The demon is taller now. Darker. More beautiful than before. And I find myself trapped in his gaze, his steady, hypnotic eyes burning into mine. There's a wild look behind them. A hunger.

  "You're not wanted here," Seth replies.

  The demon moves closer, stopping at the outer edge of light.

  He extends an arm, but can't penetrate the glow radiating from Seth that surrounds me. It's like a wall, a barrier meant to protect us.

  "Genesis," he whispers. "Come to me."

  The voice is soft. Silky and attractive.

  I blink a few times, watching him, trying to make sense of it. My fingers loosen, and I'm tumbling, sinking beneath its weight.

  Seth grips me tighter. "Genesis, no," he commands. "Don't listen."

  "I won't hurt you," the Diabol assures me.

  "He lies. He's already hurt you," Seth counters.

  I reach just below my left shoulder. My arm. The demon frowns. I slip away, eyes downcast, and, when I see my fingers, they're covered. Black.

  "You're lying," I accuse.

  His features harden, both beautiful and menacing at the same time. He sneers, eyeing me scornfully, and emits a low, feral growl.

  More Guardians appear, moving closer to us, each bathed in the same, soft glow. They're armed with swords and knives. I'm comforted immediately, even as they stare at me with an inexplicable, morbid curiosity. And the Diabol, sensing he's outnumbered, slowly backs away.

  Seth rises, grasping my waist protectively, pulling me with him. My stomach drops, and, in the next lightning moment, we're back on the beach. Alone.

  I gasp, mind reeling at everything I just witnessed.

  "I can't believe I did that," Seth says, breathless. "I had no idea . . ."

  A deep sting radiates in waves down my arm. My spine stiffens, muscles turning rigid as my body tries to block the pain. I instinctively move to cover the wound, heart crashing in my chest, blood pumping, flowing faster.

  "I mean, I thought there might be a chance, but . . ."

  I exhale, staggering. "Seth." My voice is small. Weak. The sharp, fiery pain extends from every point of the gash in my arm.

  He mutters something unintelligible, color fading from his lips, as the world goes weightless.

  THIRTEEN

  An overwhelming sense of relief washes over me as we pull into the driveway. The car door slams shut and Seth runs around front, illuminated by the beam of headlights. I press the rag deeper into my shoulder. It's soaked, and blood oozes between my fingers, running down the length of my arm.

  Seth rips open the door and reaches inside, pulling me into his arms. I swallow back the whimper perched at the edge of my throat. I can't let him feel this. I don't want him to know this hurts.

  But he knows. "It's okay. I'm going to fix it."

  I lean my head into him, burying it in his neck, clenching my eyes closed. A cool tear escapes, leaking, trailing down my cheek.

  He moves swiftly, carrying me up the walkway. The front door bursts open, the lights inside already glowing. Joshua stands in the entry, waiting for us.

  "Get Mara," Seth demands.

  We cross the room and he lowers me onto the couch. My legs tremble, shaking like mad as I shiver, freezing. "I feel so. . . ." But if there are words to describe how I feel, I can't find them.

  "I know. Stay with me, okay?" he urges. He bolts to the kitchen, ripping through cabinets, yanking open drawers, silverware rattling inside.

  He blurs, moving out of focus, and the world begins to shimmer, sparkling. Disappearing.

  "Genesis?" Another voice, from across the room, and it's enough to pull me back.

  Seth is beside me, replacing the blood-stained rag with a fresh towel.

  "What's going on?" He stands at the entry watching us, face white, unsettled.

  Carter.

  Panic clouds my vision.

  He can't be here right now. He can't see this. He can't know about Seth. About us.

  I plead with my eyes, urging Seth to leave, but he refuses to meet my gaze. "Seth," I mutter, voice low. "He can't . . ."

  "Screw it, Genesis. I'm not leaving you like this. It's over."

  Carter sprints across the room, feet thudding against hardwood and carpet, before collapsing to his knees at the couch.

  "Jesus Christ! What happened?" he demands to know. His voice is raw, saturated with fear.

  "Carter," I begin, shaking my head.

  "Joshua!" Seth growls, interrupting. He cranes his neck, searching the room. "I need Mara!" To Carter it's as if he's calling to nothing. No one. "It's going to be fine," he promises me, voice softening, struggling to lighten. "It's just a flesh wound."

  "Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Carter's voice rises with every anxious word. "Who is he?"

  This isn't how it's supposed to happen. It was never supposed to happen.

  "Don't talk, okay?" Seth insists. And then, to Carter: "Hold this. Tight. Do not let go."

  Everything in him seems to pull back, hesitating, but only for a moment. He moves closer, pressing the rag firmly against the wound. I wince, the pain shooting up and down my arm, exploding at my fingertips, ripping through my chest.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean. . . ." His voice wavers, giving out on him. He gulps for air. "What happened?"

  "I don't . . . I can't explain it right now." My voice seems to fade without my even trying, and my eyelids grow heavier.

  "Genesis!" Seth's voice. It's magical. So far away.

  A light, flittering feeling washes over me, and the pain begins to dull. I take a breath, but it doesn't fill my lungs.

  "You need to stay with me, okay?" Seth says, an uncomfortable edge in his tone.

  My eyelids flutter. I focus on Carter, concentrating on his face through the haze.

  "Keep talking to her!" Seth demands.

  "What do I say?"

  "It doesn't matter!" he shouts.

  Carter blows out a quick exhale. "Um, okay. Do you remember when we first met? The first time I ever talked to you? I asked for your biology notes and you practically yelled at me?"

  I feel a smile pulling at my lips. "I told you I didn't take notes."

  He laughs, nervous. "Yeah, you looked me straight in the eyes and told me you didn't take notes. I swear to God, if looks could kill. . . . But even after you blew me off, I knew I had to try again. That I had to keep trying. You just. . . . You were so different. You looked like you had stories. You were worth getting to know."

  "I've been keeping things from you," I confess.

  "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is that's going on. It doesn't matter. You're important to me, Gee. And I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?"

  I force my head to move, nodding
.

  "Whatever you want. Whatever you need. All you have to do is ask me, and come hell or high water, I'll get it for you. Do you understand me?"

  Something aches inside, something like my heart breaking. I push against the suffocating burden working to pull me under, forcing the feeling away. Even my good arm feels heavy, leaden, but I lift it anyway, touching Carter's face. It's flushed pink, his gray eyes damp. I sweep the hair away from them.

  Don't cry.

  "Switch these out," Seth says. And, in the next moment, a wet rag cools my arm. I close my eyes.

  "What happened?" A third voice. It's Mara. Everything inside me lifts at the sound.

  She'll know what to do. She'll make it right again.

  "She was attacked. He came out of nowhere. We weren't warned. We didn't see him coming."

  "This is a good thing," Mara insists. "Now she understands the danger she's in."

  "What kind of danger?" Carter asks.

  "Demons," Mara says, matter of fact.

  "I'm sorry, did you say demons?"

  "Genesis?" Seth calls. "Can you hear me?"

  "She's fine." The voices are muffled now, muted.

  "She's losing a lot of blood. We need to take her to the hospital." It's Carter.

  "The wound isn't that deep. She's only in shock. Let her sleep."

  "Look, I don't know who you think you are, but I can't just sit back and not do anything." Carter's voice is heated. Words clipped.

  "She's stronger than you think she is," Seth says.

  "What the hell does that mean? And who are you?"

  "This is going to sting a little." Mara calls, far away.

  The liquid is cool on my arm at first, then begins to burn. Inside I recoil, flinching. As far as I can tell, this reflex is trapped inside.

  "This isn't going to stop bleeding on its own. I can do stitches."

  "Do you even know what you're doing?" Carter asks.

  And this is the last thing I hear.

  * * *

  I step inside the empty room, gripping my knife tighter. Moonlight streams through the cracks in the windows boarded shut.

  "Where are you?" I call. But my voice, it doesn't sound like my own.

  She steps in front of the window, blocking the light, her shadow stretching across the floor.

  She doesn't speak as I move toward her, hand outstretched and shaking.

  "What do you want from me?"

  The demon doesn't answer. She remains rooted in place, unwavering.

  I step closer, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes. A trail of blood trickles down the side of her face, falling, splattering to the floor. She lifts her head, eyes meeting mine, but there's nothing. They're gone. The sockets are empty: gaping, black holes.

  My stomach churns, the bile rising at the sight of her. I swallow it back.

  Do it. The voice in my head cries.

  Don't.

  It's what you came to do.

  I lift the knife, aiming for the throat.

  Hasn't she suffered enough?

  A life for a life.

  Then you're no better than she is.

  But I have waited for this moment, and nothing will stop me.

  She makes no effort to fight back, or escape.

  It's too easy. Like someone has left her for me. Left me to finish her. A gentle flick of the wrist and a crimson stripe paints her throat.

  She falls to her knees, and those eyes . . . those empty cavities remain fixed on me. As if she's seeing me without seeing.

  Viola crumples to the floor in a heap, a pool of blood gathering around her head.

  Her chest continues to lift and fall automatically, until it doesn't anymore, and I know she's gone.

  My heart pounds heavy in my ears.

  There's something else, though. Something missing.

  I search the room, but find nothing. No one.

  I'm alone.

  * * *

  I struggle to pull myself upright. My left arm burns, rendering it useless.

  "You're awake." Carter says, sitting down beside me, relief coloring his tone.

  Across the room, Joshua rolls his eyes. "Told you."

  But Carter ignores him. "Can I get you anything?"

  "I'm fine," I reply, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My voice is small, rough, scratchy.

  "How are you feeling?" Mara asks.

  "Fine. Sore." I examine the bandage on my upper arm. It's spotted with dark red blotches where the blood soaked through. "I'm sorry. I—I don't know what happened," I tell them. "He came out of nowhere. He was . . . stronger than the others."

  "They're all strong, Genesis," Mara says.

  I turn to Carter, imagining how he must feel. What he must think of me. "I'm sorry. I should've said something."

  "I understand why you didn't," he says, casting a stern glance toward Seth.

  "What, exactly, did they tell you?" I ask.

  "That you're cavorting with angels and killing demons. Nothing too insane."

  "We're not angels!" Joshua insists.

  My mouth twitches, pulling into a smile. Carter's pale eyes meet mine, serious. "This is dangerous, Gee. I mean, I can't say I'm all that surprised, but . . ."

  "It's been fine. Until tonight, I mean."

  "Viola's getting more brazen," Seth mutters.

  "What I don't understand is why she picked you," Carter says.

  "Arsen . . . before he tried to kill me, he asked me to join them and I refused."

  "They can invite anyone to join them," Seth says.

  "But they knew about her visions," Joshua reminds us. "She's more powerful than your average human."

  My forehead knits in concentration, remembering the conversation with Arsen in the diner that night. "They promised me . . . the world. Everything, really."

  "Your visions aren't predictable," Seth says.

  "They might have thought they could influence her," Mara says, then, turning to me: "You're a threat because you chose the Guardians."

  Seth shakes his head. "No. There's got to be more to it than that. They've taken over the city, but none of the Diabols have come after her. And the demon tonight could have killed her. Something kept him from doing it. And Viola hasn't returned . . ."

  "That we know of," I interrupt.

  Seth eyes me carefully. "Mara might've been right, Genesis. They're playing you from a distance."

  "Maybe they are, but that doesn't change anything."

  "It changes everything! You have to stop this," he says, voice rising.

  "I'm strong. And I'm getting stronger every day. I'll be ready for her. I can do this."

  "You are strong. But this is about more than you, or me, or the Guardians. You're not going to win this battle. You can't."

  "I can," I tell him. "I have to."

  "What is this even about?" he asks. "Is it Stu? Because honestly, Genesis, I don't think he'd want you putting yourself in this kind of danger for him." Tears sting my dry, sleep-filled eyes. And I feel them watching me. Carter. Mara. Joshua. "He'd want you to move on. To get on with your life."

  "I'm the reason he died. Arsen never would've taken that job if it wasn't for me. He would have never met Stu. They wouldn't have lured me to the restaurant that night. It's all my fault. I have to make it right."

  "What do you possibly think you can do? Kill every Diabol in the city? The state? You have no idea how many are out there. Killing a demon here or there—it means nothing. It makes no difference!"

  "One demon will."

  "Viola is gone," he says. "The next time she comes back it'll be to kill you. Meanwhile she's just going to torture you. . . ." He exhales an angry sigh. "What happened to you tonight is just going to happen again and again. Until it's too late." He glances at the faces around the room, pleading. "Does anyone else care to help me out?"

  "It's dangerous, Gee," Carter says.

  I force my eyes not to roll.

  Great. Just what Seth needs. Another voice
to back him up.

  "They're right," Mara says. "It is dangerous, and it's not your fight. No one will think any less of you if you choose not to go through with this."

  My eyes narrow. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can get back to your real job."

  "The Council asked me to step in. My responsibility is here until someone tells me otherwise."

  "What are the alternatives?" I ask Seth. "The visions will keep happening. Viola will still be out there, ruining people's lives. . . . Ruining my life."

  "We can go somewhere. There's nothing tying you to this town. We can move somewhere else and start over," he says, sprouts of hope building inside at this, the best he can offer.

  "You can't move, Seth. You're stuck here, remember? If I move I'm assigned a new Guardian. We'll both be tied to someone else."

  "I can leave," he insists. "I can separate myself from them. It doesn't have to be like this."

  "I'm not going to let you damn your soul for me. You're not walking away from the Guardians."

  "Then we'll figure something else out."

  "She'll track me down. I know it. I have to end this."

  He shakes his head, refusing. "I can't let you keep doing this, Genesis. And I cannot go on not knowing if today is going to be our last day together." He fights to control himself, to keep his voice even. But there's an edge—an uneasiness—behind the words. I can hear it.

  "Then help me win," I beg. "Please."

  FOURTEEN

  Seth stretches a long piece of black cloth in his hand. "This . . . is from Mara."

  I force my eyes not to roll. "Why does that not surprise me?" I spin around, letting him tie the blindfold over my eyes anyway. "You know, I've seen this on those lame, made for TV martial arts movies, and I have to say I don't get how this even works. It actually looks like a great way to get your ass kicked."

  "It is."

  The world goes dark.

  "But it's also a good way to sharpen your other senses. When you can't see, your hearing is heightened. Your sense of touch. Smell. When you lose one sense, the rest of your body works to make up the difference."