Demons

by Heather Frost

  Patrick nodded silently, understanding perfectly.

  I glanced up at my quiet Guardian. “He says he'd feel better if I had a little training before my next mission. He threatened to talk to you himself.”

  “He's completely right. I haven't been doing my duty.”

  We hesitated at the car, and I twisted to face Patrick. “It's not your fault—we've been busy. He's just paranoid.”

  Patrick bowed his head once, allowing that, but his ready words were no less compromising. “What are you doing tomorrow after school?”

  I smiled a little. “Training with you?” I guessed.

  “If you can fit it in,” he agreed smoothly, reaching up to push my hair back behind my ear. His eyes tilted to mine, and I held his gaze easily. At first I simply enjoyed the peaceful moment. Then I noticed the tightness around his mouth, and I realized he was debating whether or not to say something.

  “What is it?” I asked softly.

  His head ducked and he seemed to consider his next words carefully. I felt my stomach tense, unsure if I wanted to hear what he was thinking, if it was this hard to say. But knowing was better than being in the dark, so I waited patiently for him to break the amplified silence.

  I was surprised and rather relieved when he raised his head with a thin smile. “Nothing,” he said simply. “Nothing important, anyway. I want to end the night on this note, right here.” He leaned in, and I met his lips with mine, kissing deeply. After a long moment he pulled back, his voice incredibly gentle. “Thank you, Kate. For everything.”

  “I love you,” I reminded him, one hand rubbing against his shoulder.

  “I'm glad of that,” he confided, before leaning in to kiss me affectionately one last time. “Go. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  We said our good-byes quietly, afraid of ruining the perfect air between us. He held my door while I climbed inside, and he handed me the empty cake pan once I was seat-belted in. I put it on the passenger seat and whispered a last good-bye. He closed the door and stepped back. I started the car, switched on the lights, and rolled slowly away from him, then shifted into gear and drove away—glancing at him through the rearview mirror, where he stood silently, watching me go.

  Thursday promised to be a long day. Lee was in a bad mood because tonight she was supposed to go out to eat with Peter Keegan, her mother's boyfriend. Also, I had battle training to look forward to, and though it might sound silly, I was nervous. I didn't want to look stupid or mess up in front of Patrick. I didn't know anything about fighting—my dad had showed me a few defensive maneuvers, in case someone ever tried to grab me from behind or around my wrist. I'd never used them, though. Besides—Patrick was most likely going to teach me how to use knives—something a little bit different than squirming away from an enemy.

  Aaron talked to me in American Lit again, but this time Patrick was present as well. It was a little awkward, though we all tried to make it seem natural. Aaron mentioned Jaxon's party Saturday night, and Patrick really had no choice but to agree. Saturday was also Josie's big soccer tournament, but it would end in plenty of time for the party.

  At lunch, everyone was glad to have Patrick back. They treated him like he'd been gone a year. Mark and Trent both kept talking to him, trying to get his attention. I watched him interact with them, loving the fond way he dealt with them.

  I noticed he kept stretching out the fingers on his left hand, and it seemed unconscious. He would curl them up, only to twist them back out again. It was as if his hand were numb, and he was trying to bring feeling back. The corner of his mouth was turned down in discomfort, and finally I leaned over to touch his flexing hand. “Are you okay?” I whispered, hoping no one else would notice the exchange.

  He followed my gaze, and his fingers suddenly stopped moving. He forced a smile. “Yes. My hand just feels a little stiff. It's nothing.”

  I didn't press him, because it was obvious he didn't want to talk about it right now. But I kept a surreptitious eye on him the rest of the day. His fingers continued to twist around and that frown of discomfort remained in place. Sometimes he would catch himself, and his hand would be immobile for a couple minutes. But in the end, the fingers would start to twitch again.

  After school Patrick walked me to the car, and I promised to meet him at the warehouse in an hour. He nodded his approval, we said our good-byes, and then he walked away—his hand still twisting, fingers stretching at his side.

  Once the twins and I were home, I moved up to my room to work on some homework I'd been procrastinating. I didn't get everything done by the time I was ready to leave for the warehouse, but that was the beauty of history—it didn't change very often, so I knew it would still be there when I got back.

  My lesson with Patrick was actually pretty short—at least it seemed like that to me. He'd laid out some large dusty rugs to stand on, and there on the main floor of the abandoned building he demonstrated some defensive stances. Balance was a big thing he stressed, and he told me to always keep my knees slightly bent in a fight. He also showed me how to throw a punch, though after seeing my paltry right hook, he smothered a laugh and told me I should probably only use my arm as a last resort. Like that built my confidence. He warned me never to fully extend my arm, and he had to demonstrate how to curl my fingers into a fist.

  I'm not going to lie, I felt pretty stupid.

  He also taught me how to hold a knife for the different kinds of thrusts, stabs, and swipes. Though I got the motions down, I couldn't imagine ever using them in real life.

  In the beginning, I watched his hand, which was still flexing more often than normal. But then I became so absorbed in the lesson that I didn't think about keeping an eye on him.

  Toni wandered down for the last few minutes of the lesson, and he offered a couple valid suggestions. When Patrick declared us finished for the day, Toni just sighed and folded his arms tightly across his chest. “I'm thinking we should just keep a really good eye on her. She's got a long way to go.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, tired and a little sore. “Some of us haven't been practicing for a hundred years.”

  “You're doing great,” Patrick told me kindly.

  “For a beginner,” Toni added grudgingly.

  “What time is it?” I asked, glancing at the tall windows to see the sky dimming.

  “Later than you thought, by the look on your face,” Toni commented helpfully.

  “You should probably be getting home,” Patrick said.

  I nodded, blowing out my breath. “Thank you—for teaching me.”

  “I'm sorry I've taken so long to get to it.”

  Toni snorted. “Yeah, we're all horrible, lazy people. Now if you'll excuse us, Kate, I'm trying to expose our mutual friend Patrick to more quality entertainment tonight—if you don't mind. He's watching too much Disney these days. The man needs some solid TV shows in his repertoire.”

  Patrick sighed at him, but I just nodded.

  “Maybe we can find time to train again this week,” Patrick said.

  “She needs all the help she can get,” Toni agreed, talking about me like I wasn't there again.

  Patrick rolled his eyes and walked me out to my car. While he kissed me good-bye, I considered asking about his hand again. But I knew, just from the way he held himself, that he was tired, so I decided against mentioning anything. The stiffness would probably be gone by tomorrow anyway.

  As I stepped into my cool house, I could smell dinner cooking, but things were quiet. That told me the twins were probably out with friends, so the shower would be all mine. I shut the door and saw Grandma sitting alone in the front room on the couch, angled so her back was to me. I almost called out to her, since it was obvious she hadn't heard me return. But then I noticed her aura, and curiosity kept me from saying a word.

  Normally Grandma's aura was jumbled and hard to read because there were so many emotions mixed together. But at this moment, her aura was calmer than I'd ever seen it. A thick blue band wavered arou
nd her, revealing the high level of peace she was feeling. Even more curious, I took an inaudible step closer, so I stood at the doorway, hoping to see what was absorbing her attention and eliciting such peace. I could see the edge of a photo album on her lap, and she was focused completely on the open page. I recognized the album as my mother's, something I'd spent hours holding after her death. I'd never seen Grandma take it out.

  I stared once more at her aura, wishing that the blue and yellow I saw around her now would stay with her. I hated seeing her pain all the time. There was more blue than yellow at the moment, and I was glad she was feeling so content. The blue was so deep, almost hypnotic…

  My stomach clenched suddenly, and I was immediately surrounded by an image. A crowded room, dimly lit, soft voices and even softer music. A familiar young man with glasses and a dark suit was grinning, standing beside a familiar, beautiful woman in a floor-length white gown. Together they held a knife wrapped with a wide maroon ribbon around the handle, and together they pushed the blade into a tall white cake while everyone clapped.

  My gut twisted painfully and my knees buckled. “Kate?” Grandma twisted around at the sound of my falling to the floor. She pushed the open album onto the couch and hurriedly moved to crouch in front of me. My head was spinning, and I was exhausted—I felt like I might fall asleep. “Kate, what's wrong?” She clutched my shoulder and I wordlessly opened my mouth.

  She helped lift me from the floor and we stumbled together into the front room. She slipped me down onto the couch and peered into my blinking eyes. “Were you working out? You're all sweaty… Do you have heat stroke?”

  I didn't think she'd relax if I told her I was sweaty from training with Patrick, so I just half-shrugged.

  What had just happened?

  “Stay here,” she commanded. “I'm getting you a glass of water.”

  I pressed a hand to my stomach as she retreated, surprised that the lurching feeling was completely gone. Not even a slight pang remained. The sleepiness was passing too, and I felt mostly like myself again. I closed my eyes tightly and worked on leveling out my breathing, because my heart was pounding with what must have been adrenaline. I'd been staring at auras for months, and I'd never experienced anything like this. The lifelike… vision— I suppose vision was the right word—and the sudden fatigue.

  I could hear Grandma filling up a glass of water as I happened to look down at the photo album beside me—and my stomach dropped. The picture my grandma had been staring at—probably reliving, if her blue contentment was any indication—was a close-up picture of my parents on their wedding day, captured as they cut the cake.

  My grandma had been looking at this picture, lost in the memory of that day, and I'd seen it by looking at her aura. I'd known what she was looking at just because I'd seen what she was feeling. It was almost like… I'd read her mind.

  The front door opened and Grandpa's feet scuffed loudly on the entryway as he moved to close the door. Grandma was just coming back with the water, and she sounded relieved to see her husband. “Henry, Kate just collapsed.”

  His aura flared with concern and his head whipped around to follow Grandma's gaze. I met their stares, still feeling completely shocked by what had happened. Somehow, I'd seen my parents at their wedding. I hadn't been born until years afterwards, but somehow I'd been there, after looking at Grandma's aura.

  They approached me together and Grandma was quick to offer me the tall glass of water, ice clinking against the sides as I took a sip.

  “What happened?” Grandpa demanded roughly. “Have you been hurt?”

  I shook my head quickly. “No. I don't think so…”

  They debated awhile about taking me to the hospital, but I calmly tried to convince them I was fine, even though my mind was racing. Had I really just read my grandmother's thoughts? The idea was more than ludicrous. But seeing auras wasn't exactly in the realm of normality. I wanted to be alone with Grandpa. He'd been a Seer for years—he'd know what was going on, if anyone in the world did.

  At last Grandma frowned deeply, but already her aura seemed to be calming down. “Were you and Lee working out? Honestly, it's too hot to be jogging outside. I want you to drink that whole glass, young lady.”

  Grandpa wasn't really relaxing. “Are you dizzy? Have you been feeling sick?”

  “No. I was… but just for a second. Right before I fell…” He seemed to understand my hesitation—that I needed to discuss this with him alone.

  He reached out to touch his wife's arm. “Charlotte, I think she's all right now. I'll sit with her for a bit. You go ahead and get back to what you were doing.”

  Grandma blew out her breath. “Kate, you nearly brought on my heart attack. Don't ever do anything like that again.” She waved a long finger at me. “You drink every drop, and then go take a cool shower, all right?”

  I quickly nodded, and with a last look at both of us, she slipped back into the kitchen.

  Grandpa moved to sit next to me on the couch, pushing the album to the far side of the sofa. “What happened?” he asked seriously.

  I tried to put the strange experience into words, but it was harder than I imagined it would be. The whole thing had happened too quickly—a brisk flash into my grandmother's thoughts. Not to mention the fact that it all seemed so insane. I watched his firm face carefully as I relayed what I'd gone through, and he was silent for a full minute afterward, his gaze shifting to focus on the opposite wall. I tasted my cold water again and studied his aura, which was pretty scrambled.

  When my water was a fourth gone, I spoke quietly. “Grandpa, can Seers read minds?”

  My point-blank question sounded even more ridiculous out loud, but he looked at me with complete attentiveness. “That's one way of putting it, I suppose.”

  My eyebrows pushed together. “Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me?” Patrick, Toni… Were they keeping secrets from me?

  My grandpa's next words nullified my worries on that count “It isn't normal, Kate. I mean, it's not something Seers do, generally. Most Seers don't experience this, and an even smaller number of Guardians are aware of the… problem.” He shook his head, eyes back on the wall. “There are many unknowns in the world—especially in the world of Guardians, Demons, and Seers. This incident you described sounds like something that happened to me once. I can only tell you what was told to me by my Guardian overseer at the time: keep it to yourself.”

  “But, wait—don't you know why it happened? What triggered it?”

  He looked at me at last. “My working theory, based on my own experience, is stress.”

  My voice was doubtful. “Stress?”

  He nodded. “And I didn't think to warn you, because, for one, it's a rare occurrence among Seers, and for another… well, I figured if you made it through all the stressful situations you've faced over the past few weeks, you wouldn't have to worry about these fainting spells.”

  “But I didn't faint.”

  He patted my knee. “I'm glad.”

  “Grandpa, why do I get the feeling you're not telling me something?”

  “Because there's nothing to tell. The simple fact is, no Seer I've talked to understands why this happens. Sometimes it does, and that's all there is to it.”

  “Did you ever tell your Guardians?”

  “Nope. My supervisor advised me not to, and I agreed with him.”

  “So, you don't think I should tell Patrick and Toni?”

  He hesitated. “If I were you, I wouldn't. But I can't tell you what to do.”

  I frowned. “I guess I don't understand why it would be an important secret to keep.”

  He shrugged. “It's not good tactics to let people know of your liabilities.”

  I could see what he meant, but at the same time, he wasn't quite making sense. Maybe my head was more muddled than I thought.

  He spoke before I could. “Kate, it's up to you. Tell them if you'd like. But promise me you won't let it happen again.”

  �
��How can I stop it from happening? I didn't do anything. I mean, I was just looking at her aura—like I always do.”

  He pursed his lips, considering his next words carefully. “You felt that pull in your gut… I think that's what you need to resist.”

  I didn't understand exactly why he'd want me to resist reading a person's mind—other than for moral reasons, and of course the brief bout of nausea. And though a part of me was interested in trying to read a person's mind again sometime, I'd come close enough to passing out for one day. So I nodded.

  He looked comforted. “I'd like you to try and take it easy for the next couple days,” he said. “No Seer business, okay?”

  I nodded again. “I think the Guardian schedule was pretty empty for the rest of the week, anyway.”

  “Good. Now go on and finish that water. It can't hurt, and it would make your grandmother feel better.”

  After dinner I'd made my decision. Closed up in my room, I pulled out my cell and called Patrick. It took me only a few minutes to explain the weird mind-reading experience and to tell him about my grandpa's explanation. He sounded worried, of course—Patrick was a regular worrywart. But after all the small secrets I'd been keeping from him, I had to tell him at least one. And unlike my grandpa, I couldn't see the harm in telling my protector.

  “Aside from the side effects, it was actually pretty cool,” I finished.

  His words formed slowly. “I'm grateful you chose to tell me. But I agree with your grandfather—promise me you won't try that again.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The two of you… honestly, it wasn't so bad. And it could be a really useful skill. I mean, what if I could practice, and get used to it? If I could see a person's aura, I could read their mind. That could be super useful on a mission.”

  “Demons don't show their auras, so I fail to see how it would be very useful. Besides, I'm sure you're not the first Seer to think of that. And if the Guardian Council thought it was valuable, they would be helping Seers master the ability. But I think your grandpa is right. It's a liability more than anything.”