Demons

by Heather Frost

  Toni's eyes tightened. “Not good. But he doesn't complain much.”

  “Is he asleep?”

  “Yeah. Just barely, though. He was talking to Terence just a few minutes ago.”

  “How are the other Guardians?” I asked, unable to stop the somewhat-morbid question.

  “The second one passed away last night—the third one started getting nosebleeds two days ago. The last Guardian—he seems to be moving more slowly than the others.”

  Two down, two to go…

  I looked to Patrick's closed door, tightening my hold on the strap over my shoulder in an effort to steady my mostly full backpack. “How long does Patrick have? Did Terence have a better guess?”

  Toni nodded, but he was staring at the screen—unable to look at me. “Yeah. Terence gives him two days. Counting today, of course… possibly an extra day after that if he keeps fighting.”

  I tried to keep my breathing even, but it was hard. Even knowing that I was going to do everything I could for him… it was impossible not to worry.

  Toni glanced up at me, and seeing my pale face he spoke quietly. “You can go in. I'm sure he won't mind.”

  I cast him a thin but grateful smile. “Thanks, Toni. For everything.”

  “Yeah, yeah—don't get all mushy on me, chica.” But he was smiling back at me, and I knew he appreciated the thanks. He just didn't realize all the connotations the simple thank-you held. Not yet, anyway.

  I stepped quietly into Patrick's darkened room. Toni had covered the windows with pieces of flimsy cardboard, some old sheets… anything to block out the bright New Mexico sun. Patrick was lying on his side, rolled tightly in a cocoon of blankets. Despite the warm morning, he was shivering dimly, unable to stay warm as his body haltingly collapsed.

  I closed the door behind me and then stepped slowly over to his bed. I crossed the small space and slipped my bag to the floor before lowering myself on to the bed's edge, beside him. He hadn't bothered to hide his aura, so I was free to watch the pain mingle through every other emotion he was feeling while he dreamed. His face was tight, even in sleep, and his pallid lips trembled in a silent whimper.

  I couldn't resist touching his tangled hair, gently combing down the stray locks with my fingers. I didn't want to wake him up, but we didn't have long. We needed to get moving.

  I swallowed hard for strength and let my fingertips stroke against the upturned side of his face. His skin was chill to the touch, but I didn't pull away. I bent down closer to him, leaning against his bunched up blankets in an effort to transfer some of my heat to him. “Patrick?” I whispered, hand still against his face.

  I repeated his name, a quiet call, and he responded hesitantly. His face twisted in a grimace as he pulled himself out of his uneasy sleep, and I breathed his name once more, my tone trying to reassure him that everything was going to be all right.

  His eyes blinked reluctantly open, and then they squinted in momentary confusion. He hadn't expected to see my face mere inches from his, but he didn't seem to mind my unexpected presence. “Kate?” he groaned thinly.

  I forced a smile and pushed some of his hair back behind his ear. “Yeah. I'm sorry to wake you up.”

  He swallowed, blinked some more, then cleared his throat before speaking again. “No. It's fine. What time is it?” he craned his neck, lifting his head to look at the digital clock on his desk.

  I realized that he was worried he'd slept all through school, and I hurried to calm him. “It's just after eight. I decided school wasn't worth it today.”

  His head relaxed back against his pillow, and he glanced up at me. “I should be upset that you're skipping out, but I'm not.” He struggled to push himself up on his elbow, and I wordlessly helped him adjust to a sitting position. He leaned heavily against the wall, and a quick shudder ran through him when his blankets slipped down to his lap. His muscular arms were suddenly covered in goose bumps, and I knew that his thin gray T-shirt wasn't enough to keep his dying body warm.

  My hand had fallen from his face, but he was taking it up with his stiff fingers now, balancing it on the lump of blankets that was his leg.

  My voice was muted but apologetic. “I shouldn't have disturbed you, but I was wondering if you felt up to going somewhere with me.”

  He blew out a shaky breath, his eyes not quite as clear and piercing as usual. “I don't know if that's such a good idea, my being in public…”

  “You don't have to get out of the car,” I whispered reassuringly. “I just want to take you on a drive.”

  I knew he didn't want to go. He obviously wasn't up to traveling, and though I hated to force him, I knew he would give in. No matter what he wanted, he would do whatever I asked. I felt terrible using that advantage, but I would do anything to keep him alive, even if that meant manipulation.

  “Please?” I murmured. My voice cracked a little—it wasn't intentional, but I know that's what did it for him. That's what made him cave. Seeing my pain—even just a glimpse—had him willing to do anything.

  He squeezed my fingers. “All right. Just let me get dressed first.”

  “You may want to try taming that hair too,” I teased.

  He smiled just a little. “I don't know if that's going to be possible.”

  I got Toni to come inside and help Patrick into their small bathroom, where he attempted to get himself ready to go. I knew I didn't have long, so I was quick to pack just the bare essentials for him. A pair of pajamas, a change of clothes… I'd already gotten most of our supplies at my house, including toothbrushes, a first aid kit, a blanket, one of my dad's old hoodies, and some money—anything I could think of that we might need.

  I'd just finished stashing a couple pairs of socks into the full backpack by the time I heard the bathroom door open into the living area. I zipped the bag closed, pushed it up onto one shoulder, and walked out to join them.

  Patrick was wearing his usual blue button-up shirt and some light-colored jeans. The sleeves weren't rolled up to the elbows, though, and his skin was ashy. The purple bruising under his eyes made him look haunted, but he was smiling at me.

  “That's the best it's going to be,” he told me, waving a hand toward his hair.

  Toni was holding Patrick's arm, steadying him almost unconsciously. He snorted at Patrick's words, intentionally ignoring how weak his voice had been. “Yeah. You look beautiful, Prince Charming.”

  I moved to his side and took his free hand. “You look great,” I told him.

  He tugged his arm free of Toni so he could tap a finger to the tip of my nose. “You liar,” he said simply.

  The corner of my mouth twitched, then I wrapped both hands around his nearest arm. I looked to Toni. “We'll be back soon,” I lied smoothly.

  He nodded. “Don't hurry back. I could use a little good, old-fashioned Toni time…”

  Toni offered to help us out to the car, but we both assured him we'd be fine. Patrick was slightly unsteady, but with my help we made it down the wide staircase and across the main factory floor. He winced when we emerged out of the building, the bright sun forcing him to squint. Our steps slowed, but the car wasn't far now. I opened the passenger door and helped him down into the low seat. I bent and pulled on the seat belt, but his sigh stopped me from continuing.

  “What?” I asked quickly, wondering what I'd done wrong.

  He shook his head at me. “I'm not that pathetic-looking, am I?”

  I pressed my lips together, but I relinquished the seat belt to him. “Sorry. I didn't…”

  “It's okay. Don't worry about it.” I could hear the undercurrent of frustration that he fought to hide, but I didn't comment on it. I stepped around the car, letting him close his own door too. By the time I'd pushed the backpack into the backseat and my own seat belt was clicked into place, he was ready to go. I started the car, and we backed away from the old warehouse.

  “Can I ask where we're going?” he questioned suddenly.

  I focused out the front window, knowing th
at would make lying easier. “It's a surprise. You can try to sleep, though—I'll wake you up when we get there.”

  Patrick was asleep almost instantly. The combination of the warm sun through his window and the lulling movement of the car had him asleep before I was on the highway. The radio was on, but I wasn't listening to the subtle music. I was thinking about everything Selena and I had discussed yesterday.

  I hadn't wanted to bring Patrick along. Taking him to the Demons seemed like such a stupid move on my part. But after Selena had learned how far along the virus had progressed… bringing Patrick with me was the only way to ensure he could get the cure in time.

  I knew I was putting a lot of trust in Selena, and though it wasn't something I wanted to do, I had little choice. If I helped them, they would save Patrick—that was what I needed to focus on. In the end, that was the only thing I had to trust. I sort of wished I knew exactly what they wanted from me, though…

  I'd printed out a map off the Internet, and it told me that the drive to Las Vegas would be just over nine hours, nonstop. I knew that would be too much for Patrick, and so I'd already planned out a few pit stops. I hoped we could make it as far as Kingman, Arizona, today. It would take approximately seven hours—and that was driving straight, which I knew wasn't going to happen. My bet was that it would take us more like eight or nine.

  Patrick woke up around nine thirty—we'd been driving for just over an hour. He glanced out at the flat and fast-moving landscape around us, obviously trying to figure out where we were. It was more than apparent that he'd been expecting houses and buildings, not the open and dry desert landscapes that surrounded us.

  I took in a steadying breath and my fingers flexed over the steering wheel. “We're in Arizona,” I told him, keeping my voice light.

  He blinked at the sun and turned to regard me, his face showing that he thought he'd misheard. “What?”

  “Arizona. The sunny state. You know—Arizona.” My throat was beginning to constrict, so I stopped talking.

  His forehead wrinkled, and his voice was scratchy with disuse. “I know Arizona. What are we doing in Arizona?”

  I finally dared to meet his gaze, even though it was hard. My heart was pounding, and I hoped I could keep my words steady. “I called Selena,” I informed him, immediately focusing back on the road. The traffic was light, but I tried to pretend like it was taking all my concentration.

  He didn't speak for a long minute, but when he did his voice was wooden. “You kidnapped me.”

  I pushed my aching shoulders back against the seat, stretching the tired muscles without slowing the speed of the car. “You didn't really give me a choice.”

  “Kate, this is insane,” he insisted lowly.

  I couldn't quite meet his eyes, but I sent him a fast look. “I can't watch you die, Patrick. Maybe you can let go, but I can't. Please try to understand that.”

  With my peripheral vision, I watched as he leaned back against the seat, turned his head so he was angled away from me. He gazed silently out his window for a long time, and finally I couldn't take the quiet any more.

  “Please, Patrick, say something.”

  “Like what?” he whispered dully, still centered on the window. “There's nothing I can say to change your mind. Nothing I can do to make you go back.”

  I stole a few fast glances at his aura, and I was surprised by how present the red was. It made my insides curl, and I wondered for a brief moment if I'd done the right thing.

  I swallowed painfully, and my voice was pinched and quiet. “You're so angry. I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd…”

  He didn't turn, but his body stiffened at my words. “I'm not angry with you,” he muttered to the glass. “I'm angry with myself. With Selena, with… everything. Not you.”

  His aura suddenly disappeared, and I knew that even though it took him more effort than usual, he was going to try and hide his emotions from me. I felt a little sting, but I could live with whatever made him more comfortable.

  We drove in silence for a good fifteen more miles before his head twisted around, coming back to face me. “Where are we going?” he asked, his voice quiet but controlled. Resigned.

  “Las Vegas,” I said quickly; now that he was no longer in the dark, I wanted him to know every detail. “The Demon Lord owns a casino there called the Illusion Hotel. That's where Selena will be waiting.”

  “And the Demon Lord?”

  I nodded, still looking at the road. “He'll be there too.” A sigh escaped without my command, making my next words sound more regretful than they would have otherwise been. “I didn't want to make you come with me, but you need the antidote as soon as possible. I'm sorry I had to trick you like this.”

  “So that's it?” he asked, his even voice beginning to waver. “You just won't come home from school? Your sisters will never see you again… and you're okay with that?”

  “Going to the Demons is a necessary risk—”

  “No, it's not. It doesn't even make sense.”

  His words cut me, but I tried not to show it. “Patrick, I took every precaution I could. Trust me, this was the only way. Toni would have stopped me—my grandpa would have locked me in my room.”

  “So you're going to sacrifice yourself, just like that?”

  “Of course not.” I shot him a quick glance. “I'm not playing the martyr. I left a way for them to find us. I just needed the head start.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I quickly explained about Clyde, and the directions I'd left with him. He didn't seem as surprised by the existence of my grandfather's Demon friend, but I guess he had bigger concerns on his mind, like how their eventual presence in Las Vegas would do any good.

  “Kate, if the Demon Lord is there, then that whole city is going to be crawling with Demons.” He shook his head gingerly, reminding me that he still had a throbbing headache. “Even if Toni called Jack, there's no way they could do anything. Not against so many enemies.”

  “Toni's resourceful—so is Jack. They'll figure something out.”

  “That's not good enough, Kate.”

  “Well, it was the best I could come up with.” My voice was sharper than I'd wanted it to be, and I knew I'd stung him when he twisted away from me again.

  Staring back out the window, I barely heard what he said next. “Why do you have to be so self-sacrificing?” Or something close to that.

  I straightened at the wheel, more ruffled by his tone than I should have been. “I think I learned it from you,” I muttered finally.

  He didn't say anything, but I knew he heard.

  We stopped for an early lunch at about 11:30, in a small town just off the highway. Or rather, we both stopped so I could eat. Patrick wasn't interested in food—only some water for his dry throat.

  It was our second stop in the two hours since Patrick had woken up, and I knew he was more worn out than he let on. At our first stop, after filling up with gas, I'd helped him walk around and stretch his legs. I also bought some road food to help keep me more alert. I wanted to just have him walk around the gas station parking lot, but he moved so slowly that by the time we were back to the car we'd already been off the road for a half hour. If the rest of my pit stops went this slowly… It would be more like ten hours until we reached Kingman. Three additional hours to what the map had originally laid out.

  Before we started driving again, I dug out the blanket I'd packed for him, and he took it without a word. He wasn't speaking much at all, actually, but I think that was mostly because he was so tired. Yeah, he was still upset with me, but he wasn't giving me the silent treatment, per se.

  I didn't dare leave him alone while I walked into a place to get food, but I wasn't going to make him go into public either. So I found a familiar looking fast-food place and decided to use the drive-thru. I ordered some food through the speaker, and then—before proceeding to pay—I suggested he go invisible. He looked sickly, and I didn't want any questions.

  I of course co
uldn't tell if he was no longer visible, but at a quick nod from him I continued forward.

  The young woman who took the money from me never glanced at him, and she didn't seem to find it strange that I ordered two waters. It was a hot day, after all.

  I didn't want to eat and drive, and I knew Patrick's muscles were straining to get out of his cramped position. So I drove around until I found a small city park, and I decided to make lunch a longer stop. I helped Patrick out of the car and took him to a nearby bench where he could sit for a moment in the sun. I hoped it would warm him up, because even in the hot car without any air blowing through his vents, he was still trembling. I left him to go back for the food and drinks, and then we were sitting side by side at the wooden table.

  He slipped the straw between his lips and sipped deliberately while I ate my hamburger, and we listened to the shrieking laughter of small children playing on the nearby playground. We'd been quiet for so long that the sudden sound of his voice almost caused me to jump.

  “I know I'm being ungrateful,” he said slowly, one hand gripping the large paper cup on the table, the other fingering his straw. He watched his fingers as he pulled the straw out and then pushed it back in, scattering the ice with each new thrust. He continued, his voice not quite so rough now that he'd had a drink. “I'm grateful—more than grateful—that you'd do this for me. I just… Having you give up so much for me—your Guardian—it just feels criminal to me.” His piercing eyes met mine firmly, his voice intensely serious. “I can't protect you there, Kate. And that kills me.”

  I reached for his hand, and he let go of the straw so he could squeeze my willing fingers. “It's okay,” I told him thinly. “I know this isn't easy. But everything's going to be all right. I know it is.”

  It was a lie, of course. I knew no such thing. But it was a lie worth telling to see his thin smile.

  He didn't drink much before he slid out from the bench to lie on the dying patch of rocky grass nearby. He was only going to stretch out for a few minutes while I finished my food, but soon he was sleeping soundly.