Guardian (The Protectors Series)

by Nancy Northcott

  If only. Stealing the body would prevent an autopsy, but then there would be the little matter of a disappearing corpse.

  Sometimes damage control was a bitch.

  * * *

  Maybe the milk and yogurt haven’t spoiled, Mel thought a hour later, as she and Stefan finally carried grocery bags into Cinda’s house. She’d rather think about that than about Stefan’s claim to channel energy into his sword, but she had to face it. Mel couldn’t deny what she’d seen. That sword had glowed.

  “I’m still angry about the risk you took,” she told him.

  “Your bullets didn’t stop the guy at Wiley Boone’s.” Stefan set the groceries down and opened the refrigerator. “I had a weapon, and I know how to use it.” He dumped vegetables into the crisper and straightened.

  “Right, fused with special ‘energy.’” Mel shook her head. “That guy’s taller than the witness described, and his hair’s the wrong color. Is he the guy you saw at Wiley Boone’s?”

  “No.” Stefan stared at her, his face hard. “Come in the living room. “I’ll show you what I can do.”

  “This has been a long day. Maybe another time.”

  “You don’t think I can prove it.”

  No, I’m afraid you will.

  The thought jarred her. If he really could prove his claim, what would she do about it? More to the point, why was she so afraid? Stefan wouldn’t hurt her, and if there was any truth in his claims, could these skills be helpful to the case? But if they were, wouldn’t he already be using them?

  She wrestled with logic and deep aversion until he let out an exasperated breath. Mel looked up at him.

  He regarded her with narrowed eyes and a thoughtful expression. After a long moment, he said, “It’s important to me that you believe me.”

  “Why? We’re passing through each other’s lives. Now that we’ve got a lead, maybe the investigation can make some progress. I’ll focus on packing up Cinda’s things and getting back to Atlanta as soon as possible.” Her heart broke a little as she said the words. She didn’t want it to be that way.

  Damn it. The truth was she wanted to spend more time with him.

  “Maybe it’s crazy,” he said, “but I care what you think of me. Give me this chance, Mel.”

  An icicle of fear slid down her back. Was she more afraid he was delusional, like her mother, or that he might not be?

  “Okay,” she said. “It’s a nice evening. Let’s sit outside and talk.”

  He shook his head. “We’re going to be distracted. This isn’t an easy conversation, no matter how much we both wish it were. And before you remind me about that Glock, remember, we can’t count on bullets being effective.”

  “In the living room, then.”

  They sat together on the flowery loveseat. He gripped her hands, and the tension in his body made her long to soothe him. “It’ll be okay, Stefan.”

  Especially if he couldn’t actually do anything hocus-pocusy.

  “There’s one more thing we have to cover first,” he said. “What I’m going to tell you—show you—can’t be discussed with anyone. Not anyone, for any reason.”

  “I remember what you said the other day. I wouldn’t embarrass you.” That he would think she might burned.

  “I know you wouldn’t want to.” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s just…secrecy about this is critical, Mel. Truly essential.”

  He seemed so worried. She squeezed his fingers. “I’m giving you my word.”

  “Okay.” He stood. Walking across the room, he asked, “Mel, when you walked into Boone’s room, you said something felt ‘off.’ In what way?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the way you looked or…I don’t know.”

  “Try to remember. Close your eyes and think back. You’ve just walked into the room, and I’m standing by the bed. Don’t focus on what you saw. Try to remember what you felt.”

  “I felt antsy. Irritated. Suspicious. You had your hands on the bed.”

  “I was tucking the covers back around him. What about before the antsy irritation? Anything?”

  After a long moment, she shook her head. “I wasn’t paying attention, Stefan.”

  “Okay.” Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair. After a moment, he said, “Let’s try this. Close your eyes again.”

  When she had, he said, “Tell me if you feel anything change. Don’t think. Just keep your eyes closed and your senses open.”

  Mel sat still, listening. Stefan moved damn quietly when he wanted to. Concentrating on the spot where he’d stood when she closed her eyes, she said, “There’s an…awareness. I can’t describe it. Maybe I’m imagining it.”

  He said nothing.

  “Stefan? Did you…move? To your left?”

  “Open your eyes.”

  When she complied, he was standing almost ten feet to the left of where he’d started. Mel felt the blood drain out of her head. “It…you—oh, God!”

  If he was delusional, did that mean they both were? Or had her mom been right all along? Mom…oh, wow. Mom had…

  “Steady.” He hurried toward her.

  “I’m okay.” She reached for his hand, and it closed around hers. He felt solid, felt real, so she was truly here. She’d actually felt…something.

  “Deep breaths.” Stefan looked so worried, so hurt, but he was still making sure she was all right.

  “I’m fine,” she managed. “Stefan, I didn’t expect to feel anything, and the fact that I did is…disturbing.”

  “I’ll bet.” He gave her a wry smile. “You tried to be open-minded, maybe because you hoped I couldn’t prove what I claimed. I’d try but fail. Then you would, in essence, agree to humor me, and we’d go on from there.”

  Her cheeks heated, and she gnawed at her bottom lip. He’d seen right through her.

  “Even with Wiley Boone,” she admitted quietly, “I thought you’d maybe lucked out, coincidentally come along as he happened to improve.”

  “Medicine doesn’t like coincidence. I didn’t think law enforcement much trusted it, either.”

  “It doesn’t.” She drew in a slow, deep breath and let it out to a three count. “I know what I felt. I won’t try to deny that. It’s just…I need some time to wrap my head around this. To come to terms with it.”

  When she looked at him, the pain in his eyes stabbed into her soul. He’d told her the truth. Now she had to do the same.

  “I’m all right, honestly,” she assured him despite the nervous dance her stomach was doing. “But I remembered something, Stefan. I don’t think my mother was a wannabe. Every once in a while, she predicted something that would happen—the cat wandering out of the woods after being gone for a week, relatives dropping in. We dismissed it, but maybe we shouldn’t have.”

  “Maybe not.” Cautiously, he slid an arm around her. When she leaned into him, he seemed to relax.

  Mel sighed. “We didn’t give her enough credit.” The realization was bitter. There would be no do-over, for her or Mom. “Remembering this makes me wonder if what you said, about people with talent encountering something too strong for them, could’ve been what happened.”

  Of course, that would require accepting another class of beings Mel had always considered unreal.

  “If I can examine her, I may be able to figure that out.” Hesitantly, he said, “You look better. Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” But she needed time to process all this. She had to regain her emotional balance.

  Mel summoned a smile. “You’re a good guy, Stefan, but I think you should go. I need to mull this over.”

  Again, his gaze probed hers. At last, he nodded. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed, and smiled for him.

  * * *

  You’re a good guy. Mel’s parting words kept replaying in Stefan’s head as he drove back to Griff’s in the early morning light.

  She’d meant them as gratitude. The compliment was not an invitation to lunatic hopes. Still, it was
better than lying, cheating, disgraceful excuse for a man, the label she’d thrown at him when they parted nine years ago.

  He’d almost said something about wanting to try again before he’d realized it wasn’t the right time. Assuming there’d ever be one.

  He still hated the idea of her in that house alone, but she’d rejected his offer to bunk on the sofa. Beyond warding the property, something she’d despise the mere idea of, and watching the house from across the road after she thought he’d left, he couldn’t do much more to protect her.

  He turned down his friends’ gravel drive. Pines, live oaks, and sweet gums lining its edges blocked the rising sun until he rounded the curve and the house came into view. The once ramshackle, two-story structure with its wraparound porch and covered front balcony now gleamed with fresh, white paint.

  Light shone from the front bedroom, and Stefan smiled. Griff and Val were home, and up early. Griff might not have his magical abilities anymore, but the loss hadn’t impaired the tactical computer that passed for his brain. Maybe he’d see something in this disconnected, depressing hash of events, some link they’d all overlooked.

  Val was probably too busy to dive into this right away. In addition to planning the wedding, she was leading a task force to uncover traitor mages in league with ghouls, trying to figure out who was trustworthy in the other regional collegiums.

  Stefan drove past the house to the barn, where lights also burned. Griff or Val must’ve needed something out of the big freezer the night before and left lights on for him. Still, best not to take chances with amped-up ghouls running around, even if the sun was up.

  Railroad ties marked off a parking area between the house and the barn. Stefan pulled into it and climbed out of the car. Opening his senses, he recognized the hum of Val’s magic in the house and, nearer, the lower, heavier vibe of Griff’s presence in the barn. Magic there, too, in Griff. If only Stefan could fix whatever blocked Griff’s access to it.

  He let himself into the barn, where the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee hung in the air. His friend was sprawled on the sofa, coffee cup in hand, watching rugby on the flat-screen television. Griff’s tall, broad-shouldered frame took up most of the couch.

  “Welcome back,” Stefan said. With mock severity, he added, “Make yourself at home on my sofa. Help yourself to my coffee, too.”

  “My sofa. My coffee.” Smiling, Griff toasted him with the mug. “I poured some for you when I heard the car. It’s on the counter.”

  Stefan snagged the mug and dropped into the armchair by the sofa. Over the steaming cup, he studied his host-turned-visitor. Griff’s black hair was unusually neat, maybe due to the haircut he’d gotten before the trip. His blue eyes focused on the screen, alert and intent, but with new shadows under them.

  “Congrats on a successful gallery show,” Stefan said. “I got Val’s e-mail.”

  “The show was even better than I hoped it’d be. Val e-mails a lot. She seems to have taken over keeping people posted. Mom particularly appreciates that.”

  All that sounded good. So what had made those shadows?

  “I bet she does,” Stefan agreed. After not having heard from her son during his six years on the run, Lara Dare tended to overcompensate now. That made sense, but Stefan knew better than to say so.

  “Val’s on the phone with Hettie,” Griff said. “There’s some issue about greenery for the wedding. When we were in Macon last month, Dad advised me to practice saying ‘That sounds great, honey,’ and stay out of the bride’s way.”

  “So you came out here to lie low.”

  Griff shrugged and clicked off the television. “Also to ask about the wedding surprise. Do you need anything from me?”

  “It’s ready.” That was one bright spot. “Val will have her song. I’d play it for you, but my guitar’s at the Collegium. I’ll bring it back next time I’m there.”

  “If we can sneak time without Val knowing, I’d like to hear it, but I’m sure it’ll be terrific. Thanks, Stefan.”

  “Writing music to celebrate something instead of to battle injury or disease was a pleasure.” With a grin, he added, “Our friends will be amazed at your poetic soul.” Griff had written the lyrics and Stefan had composed the music for a song Stefan would perform at the wedding. He was grateful Val and Griff liked folk music. Since Krista’s death, Stefan hadn’t so much as strummed a soft rock tune. He doubted he ever would.

  Griff’s smile softened his face. “Yeah, Will’s likely to rag me about it for years, but she’s worth it.”

  “She is.” Stefan took a sip of coffee to cover the nip of envy he felt. His two friends deserved their happiness, but he sometimes felt very much alone when he was around them. Maybe he and Mel could rekindle what they’d lost. Maybe she would let go of the past, finally accept him for what he was. If she balked at any step ahead of them, however, his fellow Council members would not sanction her knowledge of their world.

  Griff’s smile faded. “Will e-mailed me yesterday. Something about superghouls, self-replicating venom, and demon legends. What’d you do to my town while I was gone?”

  “I wish I knew.” Leaning back in the chair, Stefan started with Lucinda Baldwin’s murder and brought Griff up to date. As he neared the end, he said, “That’s about it. The venom reacts to sunset. Lucky for us, magic can destroy it, at least in small amounts. When I tried with a large sample, I didn’t make much headway. Neither did Will or Gerry. I haven’t been able to learn much else about it.”

  Narrow-eyed, Griff rubbed his chin. “Will said something about demon blood. Do you think they’re somehow transfusing ghouls with it, that it’s part of this new venom?”

  “I guess it’s possible, but we never figured ghouls knew how to do transfusions or cared enough about each other to learn. Though I guess they could force human captives to do it, or get the traitors among us to pitch in. Besides, where the hell would ghouls get demon blood?”

  Griff shot him a grim look. “From the ‘Old One’ or ‘Teacher’ Will mentioned?”

  “Let’s hope not. At least Will and Deke succeeded in smuggling that body out last night. My autopsy should tell us something.”

  “Shire reeves don’t train to fight Void demons,” Griff mused. “There haven’t been any on Earth in centuries, thanks to the difficulty of opening portals to the Void between worlds. We mages have focused on ghouls, gotten complacent, as people do over time. If demons reach Earth, they’ll do a lot of damage before we can stop them.”

  “Is this something reeves talk about among themselves?” Stefan sipped his coffee. Griff had been the southeast’s shire reeve before he went renegade, so he would know.

  “Not especially, but you hear things at conferences and training sessions—legends, odd facts, lore that’s been passed down.”

  After a moment, Griff shook his head. “What’s this about you and the Fed on this case?”

  “Did Will e-mail you about that, too?”

  “Nope. Tasha e-mailed Valeria, who asked me.”

  “So you’re reporting back.”

  Griff directed a level look at him. “You know better. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”

  Stefan frowned into his coffee. If any man knew the pain of wanting a woman he didn’t believe he could have, Griff did. He’d been so convinced his past as a fugitive would hurt Val’s standing at the Collegium that he’d actually walked away from her until Stefan and, he suspected, others had convinced Griff to think again. “We used to be involved. I told Tasha we were old friends, but it was a lot more than that.”

  Griff waited, regarding him steadily.

  “I thought she might be the one,” Stefan admitted. “But I knew she would freak about the magic, so I sneaked around to deal with it.”

  “She busted you.”

  “On the sneaking around. Then she dumped me.”

  Griff’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t tell her the truth?”

  “Back then? No. I brought it up once, and sh
e wigged out at the idea of anything like real magic, so I dropped it. I should’ve walked away, but I thought I could eventually bring her around.” Because he’d loved her, but he didn’t need to say that to Griff.

  “What about now?”

  “Last night we ran into one of the high-powered ghouls on the road, and I had to draw my sword.” Griff sat forward on the sofa, intent on what Stefan was saying. “She saw it glowing, and later, she pushed me about it. So I showed her first protocol, that she could sense energy.”

  “No shit? How’d she take it?”

  “Well enough, I guess.” Stefan shook his head, then shrugged again. “We got into this because she caught me in Wiley Boone’s room just after I’d purged his blood of the venom, and she wanted to know what I’d done to him.”

  “Fuck.” Griff ran his hand over his face and took another swig of coffee.

  “That’s what I thought. When I told her I’d used energy to heal him, she bought it. She didn’t want to, but her own logic is leading her to the truth.” Stefan got up to refill his coffee and Griff’s.

  Griff accepted the refill with a word of thanks. “The Council won’t care about her logic. Or her intuitive gifts. If they see her as a threat, you know what they’ll do.”

  Stefan knew all too well. The deletion of Mack’s memories had turned a gifted musician with a knack for numbers, a kid with a scholarship to Juilliard, into a tone-deaf, somewhat uncoordinated guy who saw algebra as beyond the pale.

  No way would Stefan let that happen to Mel. Even if he had to take her and run.

  And if the magic made her freak, wouldn’t she love life as fugitive with him? Far better to be sure matters never reached that point.

  “Stefan?” Quietly, Griff asked, “You okay?”

  Stefan nodded and sipped coffee, thinking. “I’m trying to go a day at a time. Whatever I do, I can’t spring anything on her. She has…family issues.” Stefan rubbed his gritty eyes. “She needs to come to it in her own time. Form her own conclusions. I don’t want everybody taking an interest in this.”

  “Then I’ll tell Valeria you were once involved and you want your privacy. Oh, and good luck.”