“Do you ever wonder how they can afford to pay us all so much to do this job?” Justin asks as I’m logging in some final notes on the files I completed.
I shrug. “The firm’s doing very well,” I say. “When my dad used to work here they had a few tough years, though. I remember my dad offered to go without a salary for a whole year, to help keep the firm afloat. He and Mr. Fields were friends and my dad did all he could so the firm wouldn’t go under.”
“What happened?” Justin asks.
“I don’t know. I think Mr. Fields lost a big lawsuit he was counting on or made some bad investments or something like that.”
“How did they turn it around?”
“I’m not sure,” I shrug. “I was only like ten when it all happened. Mr. Fields managed something, I think, or maybe it was just the economy picking up.”
“Well, he’s definitely doing well now,” Justin says. “Did you see that Rolex he wears? And that Tesla in the parking lot? I heard Nora say he just got divorced for the third time and he pays more alimony in a month than she makes all year.”
I glance over at him as I type. “My mom once said he had a wandering eye, so maybe that’s what happened with all of his marriages.” I think back to when I was younger and how jealous I was sometimes of the Fields kids and all the toys they had and the trips they went on. Their life seemed so golden—especially after my dad died. But now, looking back, I realize maybe it wasn’t so rosy for them after all. My mom, dad, and I were always happy together, at least, even without a lot of fancy stuff.
“I don’t know much about his life now,” I continue. “He doesn’t come to our house much anymore …. I used to be close to his kids, Jessica and Brian, but then they started going to private school and I didn’t see them as much. They’re a few years older than me.”
Justin nods.
Talking about my dad has made me a little sad, and reflective, and I remain quiet as Justin goes back to his scanning. I finish the file I’m working on, power down my computer, and organize my workspace. When everything is in order, I pick up my purse, anxious to leave.
“Have fun tonight,” Justin says as I stand up and push in my chair.
“Thanks,” I say as I reach the door, “see you Monday.”
I glide down the hallway to the side exit door and push it to swing out in the parking lot. The light breeze that greets my face in the late afternoon sun feels refreshing after being cooped up in a stuffy conference room all day, even if we did get the room with the window today. I force myself to smile wide and remember how practically giddy I am at the thought of seeing Alexander in just a few hours and finding out what he has planned. Somehow I’ve managed to push out of my mind what happens afterwards, when he leaves tomorrow.
“There she is,” a hauntingly familiar voice says to my right as I stride away from the building.
I stop, frozen, as thick black fear washes over me. “Avestan.” His name emerges as an unbidden whisper from my throat. I turn to see him standing, dark and tall, all in black, smiling with porcelain white teeth.
“You remembered,” he trills darkly. His voice spills out like ink, coating me slowly until it forms a languid, growing stain on the pavement at my feet.
I look in every direction, chest tight and heart pounding, and spot only one lone man getting into his car in the far corner of the parking lot.
“There’s no one here to help you,” Avestan says, “but I suppose you could always use your sprite powers.”
He spits out the words with acute derision and I turn in surprise to meet his mocking, invading eyes.
“Oh yes … I know all about what you are,” he says.
“What do you want?” I ask, steadying my voice as much as I can.
“I think you know,” he says slowly and as he looks at me with his ink black eyes I feel an icy stab that pierces my bones.
“I won’t go with you,” I say firmly, turning to walk away. “Anywhere.” I feel darkness descending over me and I struggle to fend it off by imagining the white ball of light in my core blazing bright and growing stronger.
“Even just to talk? You may want to reconsider that stance,” he says with measured smugness. “Or has Alexander already revealed to you the connection you and I share?”
I stop and my head turns involuntarily.
“That’s a surprise, is it? That you and I have something in common?”
“You’re lying.”
Avestan sighs with dramatic boredom. “Is it just me, Declan, or do you also find it interesting that the ‘good’ guardians are always the one’s withholding information, while the supposedly ‘bad’ guardians, like me, are the ones attempting to give you the truth? It’s very tedious having to explain this to you over and over.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Consider this: do you believe Alexander would have told you he was a guardian if I hadn’t forced his hand? And yet here I am trying to give you the truth—again—and, once again, you doubt me.”
“You want to destroy me.”
“You and your sprite power?” he says mockingly.
“I think you’re afraid of me,” I say, staring deep into the black pools of his eyes.
Avestan laughs. “Afraid? You’re an aberration, Declan. I don’t know what fantasies you’ve imagined in your mind about sprites, but I could strike you down, right here, right now—”
I hear the click of the door open behind us and relief ripples through me so thoroughly I nearly crumple to the ground. It’s Justin. “Everything okay out here?” he asks as his eyes drift over Avestan suspiciously. I weigh engaging Justin in conversation but the last thing I want is to put him in any danger. “Yes,” I say as steadily as I can. Then I add, “It’s okay, Justin, you can go back inside.”
Justin looks over at Avestan, glances back at me, and then looks at him again. For a long moment, the two of them stare at one another while my heart ceases to beat. How can I get him to go back inside so he won’t get hurt?
Finally, Avestan breaks the silence. “I was just leaving. I look forward to seeing you and Alexander again,” he says to me with a nod. “It’s going to be an enormous pleasure.” He turns on his heel and walks away and as the heavy thump of his boots on the pavement sounds off the distance between us, I struggle to keep my knees from shaking.
Justin places his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod.
He looks at me. “I take it that wasn’t your sweet boyfriend.”
The absurdity of his comment hits me right in the soft underbelly of the brave façade I’ve been laboring to uphold.
I choke out a laugh and then, slowly, tears form. “No,” I say, “far from it.”
Chapter Sixteen
“So who is he?” asks Justin after Avestan has left. He has his hand on my back to comfort me.
I meet his eyes. “Why did you come outside?” I ask.
“I saw you talking to him through the window. At first I thought he must be your boyfriend but something about it didn’t feel right.”
I nod.
“Are you gonna tell me who he is?”
I shake my head. “He’s just a guy,” I say as I wipe away a tear that spilled over. “I wasn’t expecting to see him. It threw me.”
Justin is silent and I can tell from his expression he doesn’t believe me.
“He’s not a good guy,” I add.
“No shit,” he says. “I could feel whatever was going on between the two of you through the walls. It interrupted my scanning, and you know how much I enjoy that and hate to stop.”
I look up at him and can’t help but let out a laugh.
“There she is,” he says with a smile. “My scanning partner. Do you want to come back inside and sit down for a while?”
“No,” I say, looking around to make sure Avestan is still gone. “I just want to go home.”
He meets my eyes for a long beat and I can tell he wants to say something more but eventuall
y he just nods. “If that’s what you want, I’ll walk you to your car.”
I drive home in a daze and when I get inside I see a note from my mom on the table reminding me that she’s in Big Sur for the weekend with her old college friends Kate and Jonae. I walk up to my room and close the door before I pull out my phone to call Alexander. A wave of fear hits me again and I squint to hold back tears as I press his number through unfocused eyes. He picks up on the first ring.
“I can’t wait to see you,” he says with a smile in his voice when he answers.
“Avestan threatened me,” I say, my voice wobbly. “And I—”
The tenor of his voice changes immediately. “Are you okay?” he demands. “Are you safe?”
“Yes, he confronted me in the parking lot at work but I’m home now and—”
“Stay inside,” he orders. “I’m sending Alenna over and I’ll be there straight after.” I can feel his fury through the phone and I’m terrified about what he might do.
“Alexander, please don’t—” Before I can finish my sentence I realize he already disconnected.
When Alenna arrives thirty minutes later she greets me with a hug and we sit down at the table in the kitchen and I tell her what happened.
“I feel responsible,” she says. “I was supposed to be watching you. I don’t think he would have approached you if I was nearby.”
“I left work early,” I say. “It wasn’t your fault. I usually leave at five but I was going to meet Alexander.”
She nods. “He mentioned something.” She reaches across the table and places her hand over mine. “Can I make you some tea? Get you a glass of water? Something to eat?”
I shake my head. My stomach is too tied up in knots. “What do you think Alexander will do?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be smart to go after him … today especially.”
I look up. “What do you mean, today especially?”
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It was supposed to be a surprise I think.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Alexander was busy all day today, getting ready for whatever you two have planned tonight.”
“And?”
“And …” she meets my eyes and I can see she’s reluctant to go on, “he’s been traveling all day … by light energy.”
The implication hovers in the space between us. “So he’s weakened? … Is that what you’re saying?” I form the words as a question but it’s rhetorical. I already know the answer.
She nods, silently.
My chest caves with the heartache of knowing that being weak won’t stop Alexander. I stand up, reflexively, panicked, positioned to react but not knowing what to do. “We have to stop him,” I say. “Avestan will kill him.” My eyes plead with Alenna. “You have to go and help him. You and Edwin and every other guardian. You have to go, now, and help him.”
She shakes her head. “Declan, I don’t know where he is,” she says. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. The malignancy between them can only be settled one on one. It has long roots, and it’s personal.”
I shake my head. “I don’t care, you have to find him, you can’t let him—”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a knock, or more of a thump. Something heavy hitting the front door.
Alenna and I look at each other and then I run for the door. Alenna quickly maneuvers in front of me and sticks her arm out protectively to keep me from going first. “We don’t know what it is,” she says.
She looks through the peephole and turns toward me with a cautious shrug. “There’s no one there,” she says.
Then she opens the door and my heart freefalls to the ground.
Atop my mother’s cheerful welcome mat, Alexander is lying, covered in blood.
And he’s not moving.
Chapter Seventeen
Alexander’s limbs are bent perversely and I cease breathing, staring in horror at the sight before me. Alenna and I rush forward and I kneel down beside him and caress his bruised, misshapen cheek. His eyes are closed and he’s on his side, crumpled awkwardly.
“Alexander?” I cry. “Alexander?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Alexander,” I cry again, “it’s Declan.” I feel for a pulse and look up at Alenna only to see tears in her eyes that match mine. “Please, Alexander,” I plead, touching his cheek again. “Answer me. It’s Declan, I’m here.” I bend my head in desperation to kiss his swollen lips and that’s when I hear a low moan.
I turn to look at Alenna. I can tell she heard it, too. “He’s alive,” I say and the relief that washes over me resurrects my faded heartbeat and allows me to breathe again.
“Let’s get him inside,” Alenna says hurriedly.
We carry him inside and as we position him on the couch he emits a painful groan. “Declan?” he moans. His eyes squint and then open slowly, blinking against the light.
“Alexander,” I say with emotion, caressing his cheek as I kneel beside the couch. “What happened?”
“I told Avestan …” he says with obvious painful effort, “… to leave you alone.”
“Why? Why did you do that?” I say with desperation. “You were weak. And now you’re hurt!”
He peers down, surveying his swollen body and obviously broken bones. “You should see the other guy,” he says through another groan.
I gaze into his eyes and I want to shake him for so foolishly putting himself in danger but I see that familiar glint has returned and, more than any other emotion flooding through me in this moment, I feel immense relief. “Why haven’t you healed yourself?” I ask.
He looks down again to inspect the damage. “This is going to take a while,” he says dryly.
I shake my head. “I thought you were dead,” I say with emotion, “and now you’re making jokes?”
He smiles and immediately winces with pain. “What better way to show you I’m okay?”
I look over at Alenna. She’s standing at the end of the couch looking surprised and relieved. “Can you heal him?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “We have to heal ourselves.”
I turn back to Alexander and he reaches up with noticeably broken arms and hands and guides me to him for a kiss.
“What are you doing?” I say with horror. “I can’t kiss you when your elbows are pointed in the wrong direction.”
He chuckles and instantly groans. “The key is to be gentle.”
I smile and relent, bending to kiss his cut, swollen lips. Our kiss is soft at first, barely touching, and then he pulls me closer, bringing my lips against his and he kisses me with an ardor I wasn’t prepared for—and to be honest am a little self-conscious about with Alenna in the room. But as the kiss goes on, I return the ardent tenderness and I can feel the warm white light embracing our hearts and filling the space around us. When we separate, we both smile and I’m amazed to see that the bruises and cuts all over his face and lips are nearly healed.
He holds up his arms, which are now blessedly pointing in the proper direction, and wiggles his fingers. “Nearly back to normal,” he says, “all it took was your kiss.”
Alenna clears her throat behind us. “I’ll go see Edwin and tell him what happened,” she says, breaking the moment, “unless you need me here.”
He shakes his head and reaches out for her to come closer. “Thanks, Alenna,” he says as he squeezes her hand.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says with a nod.
I walk her to the door. “Thank you,” I say, “for being here. And for protecting me.”
She nods.
“The truth is,” she says grimly as she turns to go, “it’s going to take a lot more than me to protect you from Avestan.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Are you really healed?” I ask Alexander when I return to him on the couch.
“Almost,” he says and then he groans a little as he adjusts his position. “Well
, maybe 62 percent … enough for you to climb up on this couch with me.”
I smile and snuggle next to him in the space he provided. “Was it really my kiss that helped?”
“I can’t think of any other way to explain it.”
“You didn’t heal yourself?”
“I’m working on it,” he says, “but it would have taken me at least a day to get to the state I’m in now, I imagine, without your help.”
“Did you know kissing me would heal you?”
“Not at all,” he says, shaking his head. “I just wanted to kiss you to kiss you.”
I smile. “Then why didn’t you look surprised when your arms weren’t poking out anymore?”
He chuckles and lets out a groan. “I’ve ceased to be surprised by anything you can do.”
I look up at him. “I told you,” he adds, “you’re more powerful than you think.”
“How did you get to my house?”
“Through normal operations.”
“Normal operations? Meaning you walked? On broken legs?”
“Partly.”
“Are you serious?”
“I have a high tolerance for pain,” he says, “… and a strong desire to be with you.”
I shake my head and touch his cheek. “Why did you put yourself in danger like that?”
“He threatened you. I couldn’t let it stand.”
“But you’d been light traveling all day. You were weakened.”
“Alenna told you?”
I nod.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s handled.”
“You could have been killed.”
“I gave Avestan a taste of what he’s been wanting. He’s been back for weeks now, it was inevitable. It’s probably a good thing, in retrospect.”
“A good thing?”
“Like releasing a pressure valve.”
“Would you stop talking about it so nonchalantly?” I push his arm in frustration.
“Ow,” he wails, recoiling, “62 percent, remember?”
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