Revelation (The Guardians, Book 3)

by Katie Klein

  "Seth," he whispers. "Is that your name?" He turns to me. "You fell in love with your Guardian." My lower lip stings against teeth. "This is what you wanted, then—when I asked—my life for his."

  "I'm so sorry. I had to try. I couldn't live with myself if . . . "

  A flash. My temples throb, knees weaken, refusing to hold my weight. And suddenly, I'm falling.

  "Genesis?" Seth wrenches free, but it's Luke who reaches me first, catching my waist just before I hit floor.

  "Beautiful. Absolutely stunning."

  Luke lifts me to my feet, steadying me. We turn toward the voice, the man clapping. I recognize him instantly. Short salt and pepper hair. Brown robe. And for a moment I'm back at the condo, hearing instructions that would lead to this.

  "An interesting turn of events, Lucien," he says.

  The room is full. Seven new bodies crawling out of dreams. Seven new frowns. Seven new complications.

  The Council.

  "We should discuss this, first," Luke says.

  "What is there to discuss? You claimed her."

  "She doesn't belong to me. She was never mine to claim."

  Silas laughs. "You know that's not how it works."

  "It was a mistake." Luke clears his throat, stands taller. "I'm prepared to negotiate a deal on her behalf."

  "An unusual request," Silas says. "She's not the first you've marked. . . . But the first you're willing to spare." He addresses me: "You've underestimated your true powers. Tell me, Princess. What is it about you that makes demons sing and angels fall?"

  My lips remain sealed as I suppress the overwhelming blackness.

  "No matter, Lucien. This works out better than we could have anticipated. Either way, you lose. She's marked. That's your punishment. She came here tonight to kill you. I believe that's punishable by death as well, am I correct? I'm not entirely familiar with your personal code—provided such a thing exists."

  "If I may speak, please." Another voice. A new one.

  "Ah, Mara," Silas says. "I do wish I were surprised to find you hovering about. And I see you've hired new help." Carter stands by her side. And two other Guardians—one I recognize from that last day at the pool house. He wanted to be kept informed. Still wants to help me.

  An uprising. Angel against angel. Demon against demon.

  "Mara?" Luke asks, bowing slightly. "I'm honored. Your reputation precedes you. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

  "A more complete explanation is in order. The Council asked me to train Genesis, you see, to keep her safe from Viola—one of yours—and the demons she encountered. I believe it was a ruse. Once she was fully trained the Council stripped her of her protection, and they did, in fact, send her to you, promising Seth in exchange. It wouldn't surprise me if they were behind Seth's having fallen, since he was never supposed to be a Guardian in the first place. And I'm certain they would have taken him away, too, had Viola not intervened."

  Silas smirks, but does nothing to hide the resentment in his tone. "Cavorting with the enemy, Mara? Turning your back on your own Council?"

  She speaks directly to Luke, ignoring this. "After all I've discovered—seeing firsthand what they allowed to happen to Seth and Genesis—I cannot trust them." Her attention shifts to Silas. "They’ve given me no reason to remain loyal."

  "They sent Genesis to you wanting her to fail," Carter adds. "She knows too much about them. They called her a liability. Sending her to you was the safest way to get rid of her."

  "We were prepared to reward her should she succeed," the female Council member interjects, golden tresses falling past her elbows in tight waves.

  "We were," Silas agrees. "But then, if she was to die, it would be at Lucien's hands. Unfortunately, she's marked. Now she must die at ours."

  "It was unintentional," Luke replies, persisting.

  "The mark doesn't lie," another Council member says. "You knew how you felt about her. Now there will be consequences. I have to admit, Castellani, I've been looking forward to this day for a long, long time."

  "You can't let them do this," Seth tells Luke, an anxious look passing between them. "I won't let her die. Not over you."

  A spark of anger flashes in Luke's eyes. "I never intended to. . . . I can't," he replies, frustrated, unable to finish the thought. "Not without repercussions."

  "How do we fix it?" Seth asks.

  "If he's willing to negotiate, then we could be persuaded to accept an exchange. One life for another," Silas says.

  A bitter laugh.

  Viola.

  She crosses the room, arms folded, pausing beside Luke. "No. It's not even worth negotiating. She deserves to die."

  "What?" I hiss.

  Her soulless eyes glow with hatred. "Payback's a bitch, right?"

  "Payback? You came to me. You wanted me to succeed!"

  "You weren't going to succeed, Genesis. We all knew that," she says, a sinister smile tugging at her lips.

  "It's only fair to extend the offer," Silas says. "Carter Fleming. Seth. Mara. Each of them has sacrificed something for her. What will your sacrifice be, Lucien?"

  I watch Luke closely. Desperate. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

  "I see," Silas continues, after the few, painfully silent moments. "Well, then, if you're not willing to sacrifice yourself voluntarily, I propose you let her do what she came here to do. After all, despite your best efforts, she is prepared to kill you."

  The gun weighs heavy in my hand. I forgot all about it, forgot I was holding it, forgot what I was sent here to do, even.

  "You know that's not how it's to be," Lucien reminds him, voice gravelly.

  "You believe us incapable of re-writing prophecy?" Silas replies.

  "He's right," Viola says. "There is no other way. Negotiations are futile. It's over."

  "Why?" I ask her. "Why do you hate me so much?"

  "Because you took something," she answers, teeth clenching. "Something that belongs to me."

  Seth's voice echoes in my head: she knew me, somehow, before.

  "Once upon a time, Genesis. Once upon a time there was a girl, and there was a boy." She scoffs, eyes narrowing to razor-thin slits. "You run around this place, acting like you have all the answers—you don't even know what real love is."

  And suddenly it all makes sense. Why she watched me and Seth so closely. Why she wanted me out of the picture. The Diabols she sent. The visions. The ploy to keep us separated. "You fell in love with Seth. He was your Guardian."

  "I was the Guardian," she corrects. "Seth was my charge. I grew . . . careless. The Council took him from me. When I learned he became a Guardian, I swore I would get him back. It was my only chance. I risked everything. I fell for him so we could be together again. And then you moved to town. And suddenly he doesn't know me anymore. Doesn't remember me. And I have done everything in my power, but you are always one step in front. Always getting in my way. As long as you walk this planet, you are making my life hell. What you've experienced? It's only a taste of what you deserve."

  "I don't understand. Arsen—he asked me to join you," I remind her. "You asked me to help you! You said you wanted us to work together!"

  "We're not exactly known for honesty, are we?"

  "Then why didn't you just kill me in the first place? Save yourself the trouble?"

  She laughs. "And wake up in Hell? Lose the only thing I have left? Why do you think we work through humans, Genesis?"

  "What about the people—the surfers—at the beach? You destroyed my town!"

  "I needed to be feared. New demons will believe anything you tell them. When I took Seth, when I asked for your help, while I was wrecking your town, I was just trying to eliminate the problem. You. And then Seth fell, and it was like you handed him to me on a silver platter. I knew I was getting close. That I could convince him to join us. That we could start over. All I needed for you to do was move away. To die in that fire. For you to take your own life. . . . I marked you to keep you close. I knew you'd do anything f
or Seth, and, as long as you were alive, as long as he remembered, so would he. I needed to put you in a situation you couldn't fight your way out of. Imagine my surprise when The Council gave me an easy out. You want something dead? Getting involved with Lucien is the quickest way I know how."

  "I don't believe you," I challenge.

  A roll of nausea. Flashes and pops and bursts of light explode behind my eyes. And I see their lives—a string of images. A movie reel. Seth. Viola. Time spent watching him. The first time she showed herself. "Stop!" I demand, pushing the vision away, building a wall between us. But they return, stronger, a stream of memories mimicking my own.

  Seth.

  Viola.

  My skin grows hot, furious, anger lighting my veins.

  "Get the fuck out of my head!" I lift the gun, barrel pointing directly at Viola.

  "I'm not fucking with your head," she replies sweetly, an evil grin twisting her face.

  "You are! That's all you've done. The whole summer! From the moment I first saw you!" My jaw smarts, tightening, accidental tears blurring my sight.

  "And this—this is the most beautiful thing of all," she says. "The visions don't come from me, Genesis. Look a little higher."

  A little higher.

  Look higher.

  I turn to the Council, trying to understand—to make sense of what she's saying. A smile—a sneer, even—flickers across Silas's face. And the revelation dawning: every time they were near. . . . Every time I saw something new. . . .

  "It was you," I whisper. "You were working with them. The whole time. Everything I saw. From the very beginning. You wanted me involved with Seth. With the Guardians. . . . What else were you behind? Mike? My mom?"

  That little boy.

  Selena.

  The accident.

  My breath stutters, catching in my throat. "It was you that night, wasn't it?" I ask. "Whatever ran out in front of us—whatever Carter swerved to miss—it was all you."

  A murmuring in foreign tongue. Snickers among members.

  The world dissolves, lights shining, faces blurring, blending an ocean of colors. I force back tears, swallowing hard. "Why me?" I demand to know.

  "Why not?" Silas replies.

  "Why Seth? Why Joshua? What did you get from screwing with our real lives?"

  "Each of us has a divine purpose, Genesis. It's important to trust God's plan, but it never hurts to row away from the rocks," Silas replies.

  "And this is the purpose you've chosen for us?"

  He smiles.

  "What about free will?" I ask.

  "You are free to walk away at any time."

  "Am I?"

  "Every decision you make has a repercussion, every choice a consequence. Knowing this, yes. You have free will. You've always had free will. Of course, you are marked now. And, unfortunately, that means death. However, we could be persuaded to intercede on your behalf, to forgive you, should you accomplish the task you set out to do."

  "Kill him," I say, referring to Luke.

  "Yes."

  "And Seth?"

  "You're making this more complicated than it has to be. You owe Lucien nothing. This fight is already won. If you do this, Genesis, Seth is yours." There's a smile in his voice, eyes wide and bright.

  "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

  He laughs.

  I don't. I have no other choice. I'm pressed against a wall. Marked by Viola. Marked by Luke. Either they die, or I die, but we can't all survive. This world isn't big enough for the three of us.

  I reach into my back pocket, fingers trembling, remove the silencer, clip it on the end of the gun. The expansive room, the night sky and city lights converge, suffocating.

  "I want to discuss the fine print, first."

  THIRTY-THREE

  "No more visions."

  "I believe that can be arranged," Silas agrees.

  "Genesis, don't do this," Carter begs.

  I ignore him, focusing solely on the Council, on the things I can control—disregarding what I can't. "I don't know what else you were behind—nightmares, accidents, whatever—but I'm done with it. I'm done with it all. I never want to see your faces again. I never want to hear your names spoken. You do not exist to me."

  "Done."

  "And Viola? She wants me dead."

  "You will not be left unprotected," he says. "And I can assure you Viola is no longer a problem."

  "Good." My eyes travel the room—the line of Council members, Luke, his bodyguards. Viola. Mara. Carter. The other Guardians. Seth behind me, eyes flecked with unease. I turn from him. Head swirling. Seconds burning, time stretching.

  "Is that all?" Silas asks.

  "That's all." I raise my hand slowly, extending my arm, pointing the gun, aiming for Luke.

  "Genesis, you can't trust them," Seth says. I feel him behind me, so close, hovering.

  "I have to," I whisper, fighting back tears.

  "No. You don't."

  "I have no other choice!"

  "Yes! You do!" he insists.

  "He's not your responsibility," Mara adds. "This was never your battle."

  I shove an angry laugh to the back of my throat, swallowing it. "Never my—you made it my battle!" My voice breaks. And I don't even know who I'm addressing. Viola, for her vindictive spirit. The Council, for the visions. For stripping my protection. Mara, for training me. Carter, for trading his whole world to help me. Seth, for falling in love with me in the first place.

  I train my attention on Luke. His dark features. Tailored suit.

  Just pull the trigger. You can do this.

  "Genesis." It's Mara.

  "Gee," Carter whispers.

  "Stop it," I hiss. There are too many voices, too much interference. I need to think.

  Focus.

  "Genesis, please," Luke begs, eyes searching mine, the former gleam all but vanished.

  "Stop saying my name!"

  My hand shakes. It shakes so that I can barely hold the gun steady. I blow a quick breath.

  Focus.

  "If you do this, Genesis, Seth is yours," Silas reminds me, voice low. "He's more than yours. We'll restore him to Earth. As he was before. And it will be as if this never happened."

  My skin prickles.

  Seth. Back on earth. With me. That's worth killing for, isn't it? Worth fighting for? Worth dying for?

  My eyes close, tears spilling, but when I open them, the world sharpens. Clear. And I aim. I aim because I see him. And I know what drives him—what drives them both. Because it's the same thing that would drive me were our roles reversed. Because being unable to love is a fate worse than death.

  "I'm sorry," I mouth to Luke, fixing my gaze, my head, my hand.

  My finger moves to pull the trigger. But something grabs me from behind. Seth grips my arm, spinning me around to face him. I stumble over feet. The world silent. Cold finger pressing against mine, and, before I can react, before I can scream, we're falling. Crashing to the floor. Twisting together.

  "No! No! No! Seth?"

  I scramble to knees, hanging over him. Body trembling, panicked and disoriented.

  Blood is everywhere.

  "Oh my God." The words break to pieces in my throat, shattering, salty tears splashing against his shirt in tiny puddles, mingling with blood so that I don't know where he ends and I begin. "Oh my God! What did you do?" I scream. "Why did you do that?"

  His dark eyes grasp mine. Dull. Fading. "It's even," he chokes. "They have no leverage now. They don't own you. You have free will."

  Free Will.

  I laugh through tears, brushing away strands of hair stuck to his damp forehead. "Free will meant being with you. I picked you."

  His chest rises and falls, slowing. Dying. I take his hand in mine, squeeze until my knuckles turn white, as if I can hold him back—keep him forever. "You promised not to leave me!" I argue.

  "I'm not leaving. . . . I'm saving."

  He winces, eyes squeezing shut, grappling for air.


  "Please. Don't go," I whisper.

  I lean in, kiss him softly on the lips. But this is no fairy tale and my kiss doesn't hold the power to revive. Evil wins. He brushes the back of my cheek with his hand, and I hold fast to that one, too. Kneeling over him, clinging, grasping his hands in mine. Holding. Begging. Pleading. Praying. Tasting blood on my lips.

  Free will.

  A memory surfaces, piercing, a hopeful sting.

  The Angel of Death.

  A trade.

  I can make a trade.

  I turn to Luke. To the Council. Mara. "Let me trade with him. My life for his. Please."

  But no one speaks. No one concedes.

  Another ragged breath. And another. Fewer and farther between. His eyes close, lids so translucent I can see the tiny, web-like veins in them, feel the blood as it slows, empties.

  "It's okay. I’m here. I won't leave you," I promise, squeezing his hands tighter, trying to be strong enough for both of us. "I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, forever."

  His lips turn with the tiniest of smiles. They move, forming words, but no sound emerges.

  And then. . . . He's still.

  Unmoving.

  "Seth?" I clutch his limp hand. "Seth? Please." I shake him, desperate. Desperate for another moment. Just one more second with him. That's all I ever wanted. One more second.

  "Someone do something!" I demand. The Council makes no effort to move. Luke stares, watching, troubled. Mara and Carter like statues, frozen in time and place. Viola. Charles. The men whose names I don't know or care to remember. "Please! Help him!"

  But how do you help a fallen angel who's just given his life to save yours?

  I exhale, watching him, feeling my lungs expand and contract, expand and contract, burning in my chest. Burning my throat. Heart crashing against ribs. Pounding in my ears.

  The floor. The floor vibrates beneath me. The shift is slight—subtle—but it's like the earth is moving. Quaking. On a nearby end table, the water in a vase of flowers ripples. Chandelier trembles. I watch it settle. When I turn back to Seth he's sleeping. Peaceful.