Guardians (Seers Trilogy Book 3)

by Heather Frost

  “Green?” I could hear the low alarm in my voice. “She was ill?”

  “Oh, no. No, I meant her aura,” she was quick to clarify. “It had a lot of green in it. She was uneasy. I kind of feel bad I didn’t ask her what was wrong. We might have avoided this whole thing . . .”

  I reached for her hand, which she surrendered at once. We walked directly beside each other, the short walk to the waiting car giving me just enough time to dig out the keys from my pocket. I pressed the button, which released the power locks, then I moved to get the door for her.

  I picked up the conversation then, my voice sounding highly philosophical, even to me. “You can’t talk to everyone who has an uneasy aura, Kate. There’s no way you can help every person you come in contact with.”

  She tossed me an easy smile. “Probably not. But there’s this story I heard once, about an old man on a beach. He was walking the length of the ocean, tossing starfish back into the water that had been beached. You know, when the tide went out.”

  She paused her narrative while she lowered herself into the car, and I took the opportunity to make an irrelevant comment, my fingers drumming lightly on the roof of the car. “I love how we went from talking about green auras to men on beaches. This really is the best date I’ve ever been on.” She sent me a wry look over her shoulder, but I just grinned and closed the door.

  As soon as I was settled into the driver’s seat, Kate resumed her story; her passion for a simple parable was almost comical. “So this man walked the beach, throwing these starfish back into the ocean so they wouldn’t die. And this other guy, a younger guy, comes along, and he sees this beach is practically covered in starfish. And he says to the old man trying to save the starfish, ‘There are so many, you can’t possibly make a difference.’ ” She hesitated for dramatic effect, her face glowing from the lights on the dash. “And do you know what the old man said?”

  “ ‘Mind your own business?’ ” I guessed.

  She actually slapped my arm, but the familiarity that small action attested to warmed my heart, so it wasn’t really a viable reprimand. She was fighting to keep a straight face. “No, that’s not what he said at all. He just picked up another starfish and chucked it in the water. Then he turned to the other man and said, ‘It made a difference to that one.’ ”

  I nodded slowly. “So . . . are you saying you want to chuck starfish on our next date?”

  She rolled her eyes and reached for her seat belt. “Patrick O’Donnell, you are completely—”

  “Hopeless?”

  Her mouth twitched. “Close. I was going to say wonderful.”

  “You were not.”

  “Maybe I was.”

  I blinked. “Really?”

  Her words appeared sincere, but her expression was teasing. “You’ll never know, because you interrupted me.”

  I let my eyes carefully caress her beautiful face, before turning my attention to driving her safely home.

  We didn’t talk much while I drove, but the quiet wasn’t empty. Silence could be peaceful, when shared with someone you care about. Kate reached for my fingers, and I helped balance our hands on the middle armrest while I navigated carefully through the traffic. Her house wasn’t far, but I almost wished it was.

  The radio played softly, and occasionally Kate would start humming unconsciously along with the music—sometimes making up her own harmonies. A part of me wanted to join her, but I was afraid that if I drew attention to the instinctive counterpart she might stop the impromptu performance. I contented myself with just listening to her voice, trying to commit it to memory, though I had every intention of hearing her voice every day of our time together. I may not get her forever, but I wasn’t going to waste a moment of the time we had.

  And I certainly wasn’t going to let fate rob us of the precious amount of time allotted to us. I would see Kate grow old, no matter what it took. I would protect her so her hair could become gray with age, keep her safe so I could smooth the wrinkles on her face. I may not be able to grow old with her—destiny had stolen that from us already, though I knew I had no right to complain. Without my immortality, we never would have met. Still—I was going to live every second I could with her. Every second she would give me, I was going to take as greedily as a starving man gropes for food. Gorge myself now, before the famine came and stripped me of everything that mattered.

  I twisted my fingers with hers and her thumb caressed the back of my hand in response. I don’t know that I’d ever lived a better moment than this. But then, that’s what I thought every time I was with her.

  Five

  Kate Bennett

  I fought the invading sunlight by closing my eyes more tightly. I tried to cling to the sleep that was leisurely slipping from my body, but my efforts were in vain. I was awake now, though still extremely tired. I rolled onto my back, stretched my legs out, and reluctantly blinked until my eyes were wide open against the morning light. The night had been way too short. I still felt stiff and my mind remained cloudy. Scattered fragments of dreams—including one involving Far Darrig—slowly disappeared, and soon the only thing I could remember from my night was the look on Sean’s face when I stabbed him in the heart.

  I stared at my ceiling, twisting my arms out and above my head to take the kinks out. I yawned in a huge, unladylike fashion, then burrowed back under my sheets, turning on my side and curling into a ball. I stared at my closed door, mentally going over what today promised to hold.

  After Patrick had walked me to the porch last night, just before he’d stolen my breath with one of his deep and amazing kisses, I’d remembered to tell him about the missed call he’d had from Terence. He’d seemed a little surprised by the late notice, but there was a new tension to the set of his shoulders that made me worry Terence’s visit might concern some bad news. I don’t know what I thought of his visit, but I knew from past experience that a Guardian overseer only came around if there was something serious going on. Did he know about the wanted poster?

  For some reason, the thought of Terence knowing I had a reward on my head made me wince. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Terence, but I was worried about how he’d react to the revelation that a bunch of Demons knew where I lived. I mean, obviously they hadn’t been too worried about that possibility, because they hadn’t relocated me after the funeral even though Selena, Far Darrig, and pretty much any other dangerous servant of the Demon Lord knew where my house was. So either they thought moving me would do no good—they’d just find me again—or the Guardians believed they could protect me. Would that change if Terence knew about the bounty hunting Demons, though?

  I decided it was better not to speculate. For one thing, it hurt my head. For the other, Patrick had lifted his hand to my cheek at that moment to gently stroke my skin with his attentive fingertips.

  He’d offered to pick me up around eleven thirty for the meeting, but I asked him if he wanted to come over earlier and hang out at the house. My arguments were simple. “The twins will be home, and I don’t want to suffer alone with Toni.”

  He’d smiled and nodded once. “I would love to.”

  In my room, I glanced up at my alarm clock on the nightstand. It was almost nine. Patrick would be over around ten, so I couldn’t really procrastinate getting out of bed for much longer. But before I left my room, I decided to set up a game plan.

  Since I’d intended to tell Patrick about the wanted poster today, and since Terence might be coming about that very thing, I decided to wait and bring up the reward later. If Terence knew about the danger, then he could warn us and I wouldn’t have to tell Patrick I’d gone to Clyde’s the other day. A win-win, unless Terence insisted on relocating my family. The twins had gone through enough already—they didn’t need to lose all their friends, their home, and reality as they knew it. I understood that someday they would have to learn the truth about Guardians and Seers; it was inevitable, since Patrick didn’t age. They were bound to learn there was something weird with us,
but I wanted them to remain as sheltered as possible for as long as possible. Ignorance really was bliss, as long as you didn’t know things were being kept from you.

  So I would keep quiet about the wanted poster until I heard what Terence had come to say. That plan was good enough for me—I slipped out of bed and started getting ready for the day.

  The twins were already done with breakfast by the time I came down, and Grandma was out grocery shopping. The twins didn’t know it, but she hadn’t gone alone. Making some silent observations, it was easy to conclude that Toni had accompanied her, since Jack had been on night duty and Claire was currently in the kitchen.

  She was most likely invisible, though the twins were upstairs, and she was sitting at the table, thumbing casually through a small paperback. She had the silver aura that marked her as a Guardian, and it only enhanced her ethereal beauty. She was the prettiest person I’d ever seen in my life—a different kind of beautiful compared to Selena Avalos. While Selena was mature and exotic, Clair was small and pixie-like. She had a thin but muscular body, and she was barely five feet tall—if that. Every feature was perfect and miniature, her nose, her chin, her cheekbones. She had long golden-blonde hair that she usually wore up in some way. She was very fairy-tale-princesslike, and her voice was beautiful with its rich French accent. While Patrick and Toni’s accents had seemed to fade a little over time, hers seemed unerringly strong.

  I didn’t know much about her life, only that she’d been born in France in 1430 and apparently didn’t really care for men. She seemed to like nice clothes, because I often saw her wearing a dress or an especially classy blouse. She wasn’t talkative, and I hadn’t had many opportunities to be left alone with her, thank heavens. I was grateful for everything she’d done for me and everything she was doing still. But her cool eyes had a way of biting into me, and I got the feeling that even when I wasn’t speaking, I was somehow annoying her.

  Claire glanced up from her book when I opened a cupboard in search of a bowl. “Good morning,” she said, her tone making it clear she was just trying to keep it polite.

  I gave her a thankful smile. “Have you been here long?”

  “My shift started at seven.” She watched me as I crossed the room to the pantry, where I started searching for cereal. Nothing sounded great, but I finally settled on some Cheerios.

  After I’d gotten my spoon and taken my seat across from her, Claire spoke again, her voice easy and her light brown eyes still firmly on me. “What do you hope to get from your relationship with Patrick?”

  The milk I was pouring splashed onto the table, and I quickly ended the flow by jerking the gallon back. I blinked at the Guardian sitting opposite me, a little surprised to see she wasn’t blushing. In fact, she didn’t seem to find her question rude or invasive at all.

  “Uh . . . what do you mean?” I asked at last, hesitating a second too long.

  She straightened in her chair, her beautiful nails drumming absently on the closed book cover. “I’m just curious. Obviously there are some large issues you’ll face, and I was wondering what you intend to get from him.”

  “Get from him?”

  My less than graceful reaction didn’t seem to affect her. “Yes. Before you end things.”

  I didn’t care what my expression looked like—I was too shocked by her words to keep my surprise in check. “End things? You mean, when I die?” It felt a little weird, being blamed for dying, like it was a dumb accident I could avoid with a little smarts.

  Her slim eyebrows drew together. “No. I mean when you leave him.”

  “What do you mean, leave him? I’m not going to leave him.”

  She looked genuinely confused. “Surely you can’t be serious. No Seer stays in this world for long. Some make it ten years, but those are the strong ones.” She saw my shoulders stiffen, and she inclined her head respectfully. “I mean no offense. But you’ve already lost so much. You want a normal life, Kate. A steady life. Patrick cannot give you that.”

  I bristled, but tried to keep my tone conversationally polite because I knew she wasn’t trying to be antagonistic. At least, I didn’t think she was. “I love Patrick. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  “The words of a love-struck romantic who’s had no taste of reality,” Claire interrupted, her voice smoothly accented. “You will mature and age—he will not. You will see friends and family grow, see them with nice houses and jobs. They will not live in constant fear of Demons. They will have children—eventually grandchildren—and you will not. With Patrick, these things are not possible. Those around you will lead normal lives, and you will long for that. It’s only natural. And you will look on at their happiness, knowing that theirs can go on forever, while death will eternally separate you from Patrick.”

  I swallowed hard. Mostly because she’d touched on some sore topics. I hadn’t actually gotten up the nerve to ask Patrick about the possibility of, well . . . having a family together. And here was perhaps my least-favorite Guardian dashing my hopes with a few short words and without any real explanation of how. Still, I didn’t want her to see my hurt. I tried to keep my voice even. “I know. I’ve considered those things—”

  A single eyebrow rose, stopping my words. “Have you? Your eyes tell a different story, Kate.”

  I felt my gaze narrow. “Look, I know you’re trying to be thoughtful, but this really isn’t—”

  “I’m not doing this for you alone,” she overrode my protest, her eyes almost flashing with the intensity of her emotions. “This is for Patrick’s sake as well. It will be easy for you to move on, but it is infinitely harder for an immortal to forget.” She cocked her head at me, her small face open and honest. Her words felt so cold. “Are you simply looking for someone to hold you during your period of weakness and mourning? Someone to kiss you when you feel afraid? Someone to whisper loving words in your self-doubting ear? Because if that’s all you require, it would be best for Patrick if you were to seek comfort elsewhere.”

  My face was flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. My voice was low, but it wavered with the rush of emotion I was feeling. “I don’t know where this is coming from, but you have no right to judge me like that.”

  “Judge you? I aim to help you. To show you what your infatuation entails, so you can stop this before you and Patrick become even more enamored with each other.”

  “I love him. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him. No matter what I have to sacrifice.”

  She actually sighed. “Even if this isn’t just a passing fancy, you’re not thinking about what’s best for Patrick. If by some miracle you are able to live a long and happy life together, you will die. There’s no stopping that. And where will that leave him? Alone and aching. Forever. Surely you don’t want that for him?”

  “So you think I should just break up with him and start the separation now? Great idea, thanks.”

  My sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. Her mouth twitched. “I don’t want you to torture him needlessly. Not only that, but—you don’t deserve to be stuck in this world. You didn’t make that choice.”

  “Maybe I didn’t choose to be a Seer. But I’ve made my choice where Patrick’s concerned. And no matter how good intentioned you are, you can’t change my mind.”

  She was silent for a moment—I thought maybe I’d convinced her to keep her mouth shut—but then she spoke steadily. “I know from personal experience that you are making a terrible mistake.”

  That stopped me. I couldn’t just toss out a reflexive, “Oh yeah?” Instead I simply waited for her to continue.

  She did, slowly. “I was once in love with a mortal—a Seer. He promised to stay with me. He was . . .” She straightened in her chair. “I let my guard fall, put down my defenses. We were together for almost two years before he moved on.”

  I knew her hurt was genuine, so I tried to soften my firm words. “Claire, I’m sorry. But you’re not Patrick. And I would never leave him.”

  Her chin lifte
d a fraction, her abrupt smile fake and chilling. “Every story is different, it’s true. But each one has an ending. Don’t forget that, Kate.” She stood suddenly, tossing a nod toward my cereal. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she said quickly, turning and treading lithely from the room.

  ***

  I forced myself to eat, though I hated soggy cereal, and, for the record, I really wasn’t all that hungry anymore. I was more bothered by Claire’s attempt at conversation than any secure person should be, but I knew that wasn’t because I believed she had a point.

  Okay, so maybe I could see where she was coming from. Mostly I was just annoyed that she’d think so lowly of me. It seemed wrong that she’d even attempt to judge me, because she hardly knew me. I was also bugged that she’d brought up some things I’d been carefully avoiding up until this point. Suddenly my head was filled with all these new things I’d never thought deeply about—most important, Patrick’s feelings. I mean, I knew he loved me. But what if Claire was right and our relationship only hurt him in the end? What if he ended up as lonely and crabby as her? It wasn’t something I’d considered thoroughly before, but now it was all I could think about.

  So much for a relaxing Saturday. Thanks a lot, Claire.

  I rinsed out my dish and placed it in the dishwasher, wiping my hands on a nearby towel before moving to put the milk away. That’s when the doorbell rang, signaling Patrick’s arrival. I closed the fridge and crossed the kitchen, quickly moving through the entryway. I reached for the door and managed to pull it open before the twins started crashing down the stairs.

  The sunlight did amazing things to Patrick’s hair. It highlighted the dark brown strands while making some parts look decidedly blond. It was a good look for him. The scattered freckles on his smooth face were even more obvious in the sun, and his beautiful eyes seemed to glow when they met mine. His hands were in his pockets, but he was already drawing them back out to wrap me in an embrace, right there in the doorway.