I looked away from them, unable to watch their reunion anymore. I was happy for them. But I couldn’t bear happiness right now. I felt as if witnessing another second of this was going to kill me. If only it could kill me.
Just then Hanif stuck his head inside, looking more than relieved to see us.
“Hanif . . .” Claire blinked at the sight of him, still trying to process Lee’s words. “But—Takao went to kill you. We heard the gunshot!”
Hanif slipped closer. Favoring his injured arm, his good hand gripped the door frame. “Takao would have killed me, And if he hadn’t, that creep Jose would have. But Peter took care of them first. And Lee showed up just in time to help.”
I stiffened at the Demon Seer’s name. “Where is he?” I demanded in a low growl.
My roughened voice drew a few looks. Sean’s was particularly wary.
Hanif raised a long hand. “Now, now, before you all go off on him, I think you should remember he saved my life. He’s in the hall, and I’ll let him come in when I think you won’t all try to kill him. Where’s Kate? I’m sure she’ll take . . . my . . .” He’d just spotted her body. He swallowed hard.
Now that my rage toward Peter was distracted I fully remembered my crippling grief. I walked slowly across the room, not caring that everyone was now eyeing me.
The room was near silent as I knelt by Kate’s side. I crouched over her, one trembling hand moving to cup the side of her face. The other lifted her hand, my fingers aching to be held by her stiff fingers. I couldn’t make myself close her eyes; that would be admitting she was gone, forever lost to me. It was better to see the glossiness, even though her empty eyes cut me to the core.
Knowing she lived on somewhere else did not give me solace. Even though I was armed with the knowledge she would be reunited with her parents, I was not comforted. Because I had lost her, and I was too selfish to feel happiness for those who had gained her.
I lifted her cold fingers to my lips, pressed my mouth against her skin with too much force. My other hand brushed her hair from her forehead, and that’s when I noticed the remains of the tape on my wrists were grazing against her skin. I jerked back quickly, lowered her hand so I could tear the offensive pieces off, ignoring the flash of pain as they were ripped away and tossed aside. I caught up her hand once more, pressing the back of her hand against my lips. Trembling fingers settled back against her face, wandered over her parted lips. Her beautiful face was frozen, not reacting to my touch.
I choked on a fresh wave of tears. I could feel them streaking down my face, see them splashing onto her still hand. I honestly couldn’t stop trembling.
I released Kate’s hand once more, only to slip my own beneath her limp body. I lifted her into the cradle of my arms, still kneeling, nearly crushing her against my chest.
I felt someone brush up behind me. A hand pressed to my shoulder. A curtain of pink sank beside me. “Oh gosh.” Lee’s voice was heavy with emotion. “Kate . . . Kate.” Her voice pinched off. I lifted my eyes and saw Lee’s face, covered in tears; she had one shaking hand clasped over her mouth. Toni was stooped behind her, hands on her shoulders, unwilling to lose contact with her.
“Oh Patrick,” Lee’s voice hitched. She lowered her hand and looked right at me. “I’m so . . . so sorry.”
I pinched my eyes closed. “Please. I . . .”
Lee was crying, unable to speak. Her hand was on Kate’s arm.
Toni’s fingers flexed their hold on Lee. “Of course,” he mumbled toward me.
Sean stepped up to us. He extended his arms, silently offering to help lift her. He understood my intentions: my need to mourn her alone.
Lee backed away with Toni, arms wrapped tightly around each other as Sean helped me up from the floor with Kate. Once I was standing I pulled her tightly against my body. I could carry her. I needed to hold her.
Sean nodded almost imperceptively, honoring my silent wish. He stepped around me, moving for my open bedroom. I followed him.
I knew there were bodies littering this room, but I wasn’t going to worry about them. Let one of the other Guardians handle it. I didn’t want the responsibility. I was done with this day. Done with this whole life. I was no longer a Guardian. I was a broken man. Nothing more. I’d given everything I could give—I could give no more. Kate . . . No more.
This was my time. I wasn’t going to think about anyone else’s pain at losing her. Not Lee’s, not her grandmother’s, not Jenna’s, not Josie’s. For this frozen moment, this last moment, Kate was completely mine.
I stepped into the room, which appeared largely how I’d left it. Only now some of her things littered the floor and the blankets on the mattress I recognized as hers. I barely reacted to the fresh wave of pain the sight of her things brought me.
I laid her on the bed, cringing when her head fell back and I didn’t have a free hand to catch it. Sean’s hand flashed beside me, reaching out and slipping under her hair, supporting her. He helped me settle her against the mattress before reaching for one of the blankets folded up at the end of the bed.
I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “No. Not that one.” I couldn’t soil one of her blankets. It would be criminal to ruin something of hers, something that held her memory.
Somehow, Sean understood my logic. He cast his eyes around the room, spotting a white sheet wadded up in the corner; I’d stripped the bed but hadn’t bothered to wash the bedding before leaving.
Sean retrieved the sheet and helped fold it around her, knowing from my silence that he shouldn’t cover her head. Shielding her face from me would have been beyond unbearable.
Once she was wrapped, he straightened and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Patrick,” he repeated.
I didn’t reply to his mumbled words.
He released me and moved back. He paused at the doorway, his voice soft. “I’ll keep the others out while you say good-bye.”
“Thank you,” I forced myself to whisper.
He closed the door, and I was alone. Completely alone.
I knelt on the floor beside her, my hands clasped behind my head, my forearms crushing against my skull in a desperate hold. My elbows were touching—my head was pounding under the pressure. I was gasping—hyperventilating. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt like they were going to burst. My tense body was going to explode.
But I wouldn’t explode with the pain. I wouldn’t die. I couldn’t.
I would never hear her laugh again, never hear her whisper my name. I would never feel her fingers curl around mine. Her warm lips would never touch mine again. She would never cock her head to the side and squint at me, in that way that was uniquely hers. She would never smile at me or confide in me her fears and dreams. She would never do anything. She would just lie here, motionless, lifeless. She was all I had to hold on to—the only thing keeping me from total madness. And her heart would never beat again.
I would be crippled by this pain until the end of time. There would be no release. I could scream. I could curse. But I would not die.
Insanity was something all men feared. It was instinctual to fear the loss of memories and reason. And yet, at this moment—as my sanity was being drained, but nowhere near quickly enough—I only prayed that insanity would take me completely. Perhaps if I was insane, I could forget her. Perhaps if I were mad, I wouldn’t feel like this. This torment would vanish, because I would not remember her. I would not remember anything.
I had never so desperately longed for Heaven. For the sweet escape of death. Not once in two centuries—decades of years, full of regrets—had I ever regretted my fate so entirely. I’d never seen the senselessness of eternal life so vividly.
If I was not personally living this agony, I would not believe such hopeless, raw torture was possible. To suffer this much, and still live on; it was impossible. Should have been impossible. No one should experience this and survive. It was unnatural.
No word could define my pain. No measurement could describe the dep
th of my loss. No medication could ease this rending of my heart, mind, body, and soul. I couldn’t do anything but hold her and weep.
So that’s what I did.
I crawled onto the bed beside her, uncaring about what others might think. She was not just a dead body. She was Kate. There was nothing sick or wrong about my lying beside her. It was natural. Instinctual. It was the only comfort I could see.
It was a feeble balm.
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her body up against the length of mine. She was too cold. Too stiff. But she was here. She was real. I could hold her . . . She might have only been sleeping—peacefully dreaming. She could wake up. She could come back.
My breathing was slowing. Becoming more even. Maybe I was growing numb. But if that was the case, why was I still burning with pain and guilt?
I buried my face in her hair, pulling in her distinct smell. It lingered strongly, even when she didn’t. It seemed wrong. Horribly wrong.
My nose brushed against her cheek as I kissed her nearest temple. When she didn’t respond I flinched into her shoulder, letting the torture rip through me in full.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m so, so sorry.”
My breathing hitched and broke. I silently cried out for my father, images of the man who’d raised me and that of deity blurring together. I would plead with anyone who would listen. I begged for death to take me.
But my heart continued to break, despite my countless petitions—with no indication that it would ever stop.
Twenty-Five
Patrick O’Donnell
I was alone, drowning in unspeakable loss. No one was there to help me. The only one with the power to save me—to offer me direction—was gone.
I don’t know how long I sobbed beside her, my face buried in the curve of her neck. It could have been minutes or years. Everything was quiet outside, though I was sure the others were taking care of the bodies. As Sean had promised, no one bothered me. I knew this moment of solitude wouldn’t last, though. I couldn’t stay here with her forever. They would want to take her away from me. But for the life of me, I couldn’t make myself let go.
I was no longer crying. My body was too weak to keep up with the torrent of emotions raging within me. All my tears were spent. I’d stopped praying too, since it wasn’t doing any good. Or maybe that was why I felt this deadened calm? Some merciful Being had decided to offer me a partial escape from my suffering? If only it could have been total.
I heard the door ease open.
“Patrick?” Toni said, voice cautious.
My back was to the door, and I didn’t bother to turn. The only acknowledgement he received was my body’s sudden tensing. My curled grip around Kate’s body intensified, my eyes pinched shut against a fresh wave of tears I didn’t think I still had in me. They couldn’t take her. Not yet. They’d want to bury her in the ground, and I’d never see her again.
“Patrick, we’ve dumped all the Demons. We’re going to take the other bodies to the morgue. I’ve got a bag, and . . .”
“Get out.” My tone was so parched, so dead, there was no inflection or power. Only sheer pain.
There was a short silence. Then the door latched closed, and the silence stretched.
Several minutes later the door opened again. I felt a slight depression as someone sat behind me, near my back. Lying on my side, I didn’t even have the strength to raise my head and look over my shoulder to see who it was.
“Please go away,” I mumbled stubbornly. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? Hadn’t Sean promised to keep them away? Couldn’t he do that for a little longer?
A small hand was laid delicately on my arm. It was so thin, it could have only belonged to a woman. I closed my eyes and exhaled sharply.
Lee’s voice was soothing, understanding. “I know. But you can’t keep her here forever, Patrick.”
Her words were terribly true.
My mind rebelled against them anyway. “Leave me alone.”
Tears colored her words now. “Look, you’re not the only one . . . struggling, right now.”
“Out, Lee.” She had no idea how much I was struggling.
Lee sniffed loudly, rubbed my arm briefly, but she eventually left.
My mind may have been blank, but I knew Lee hadn’t been gone even two minutes before there was a knuckled tap on the door.
“Go away,” I fairly whined, not caring who heard me.
The door opened anyway. Sean’s voice was deep, even. “Patrick, it’s time. We need to get her body taken care of.”
My grip only strengthened. I knew he was right, but my arms wouldn’t—couldn’t—let them take her from me.
A large hand was pressed against my raised shoulder. “Patrick? Come on. Let go. Let me help you.”
“Please,” I begged, wincing against her stiff neck. “Please, just leave me alone.”
He made the mistake of grabbing my elbow, perhaps thinking he could physically force me to release her. I lashed out unthinkingly. My right arm was still wrapped beneath her, trapped, but my left arm swung wide in what would be a ringing backhanded slap across his face. Would have been, if Sean hadn’t effortlessly caught my wrist. “Patrick,” he said gruffly. “Look at me.”
I did, my eyes leaking steady tears. I knew he could see the raw emotions that distorted my face, see the overall feeling of hopeless grief and loss that had my whole form trembling.
He pursed his lips. “It’s time, Patrick. Her family is going to be getting the call soon. You can’t keep them away from her. Let Kate get cleaned up before they have to see her. Her grandma shouldn’t have to see her like this.”
I knew he was right. They’d all been right.
My broken words were weak. “I don’t . . . I don’t think I can . . .”
“Let me help you,” he repeated. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
As if on cue the others trailed into the room. Toni and Jack came around the other side of the bed, Toni fingering a folded black body bag. They stood, waiting for the word.
Lee was standing at Sean’s elbow, her face red and puffy. She focused solely on me, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Kate. Sean was watching me too, waiting. I closed my stinging eyes, the closest I could get to producing a sign of permission.
They all understood. Sean released my wrist even as Jack bent over the bed, reaching for Kate. Toni was rolling the long bag out across the foot of the bed, peeling back the open sides.
I didn’t try to fight them, but I didn’t pull away from Kate as Jack and Toni proceeded to compassionately peel her away from my side, her body still wrapped in the sheet. They slid her slowly off my arm, my fingertips brushing her waist one last time. And then my heavy arms were empty.
Sean gripped my shoulder. “Come on. Don’t torture yourself. Let’s go.”
I shook my head and curled into the fetal position, pinching my eyes closed to block out the awful images. I deserved to feel all the guilt, all the pain. And though I couldn’t see what was happening, the sounds described everything in horrific detail. Plastic wrinkled as it was pressed down by deadweight, crinkled loudly as it was tugged over her inert form. The long pull of a raspy zipper, sealing her inside. Lee’s small hand rubbed my back as the bag was slid off the bed, taken into their arms.
Toni and Jack shuffled out and Sean spoke softly behind me. “What can I do? Do you need to be alone? Can I get you anything?”
I crushed my closed eyes with the heels of my hands. “No,” I fairly gasped. My heart was pounding erratically, my gut clenching painfully. I was rapidly slipping into a panic. “I need to be with her.”
Sean seemed to debate his answer, not knowing what would really be best for me.
Lee broke into the aggravated pause, eager to agree. “Okay. We can follow them to the morgue. But you need to change your clothes. The twins would have a heart attack at the sight of you. Not to mention what any other humans would do . . .”
Was I r
eady to face her family? I doubted it. But I couldn’t stay here. I needed to be near Kate. So I forced my muscles to obey, willed my body to shift into a sitting position. Lee offered me a fractured smile. “I’ll find a car we can use.”
“We can take mine,” Sean supplied.
“All right.” Lee hesitated, as if she had more she wanted to say to me. Another look at my gaunt face had her second-guessing her intentions. “I’ll wait for you in the other room,” she said dimly, retreating gently.
I tried to ignore the blood on the bed, but as I swung my legs over the side, I couldn’t ignore the blood caking my already crisp shirt. It was partially dried, so it cracked sickeningly as I moved. The fact that it was mostly mine didn’t keep my stomach from lurching. My eyes flashed to my rickety dresser and Sean was moving a half second later. He pulled open a middle drawer and plucked out a black T-shirt, offering it up quickly for my inspection. I gave a slack nod and he carried it over, not bothering to shut the drawer. I noticed he’d replaced his bloodied shirt with one of Toni’s, a basic white T.
My rigid fingers were shaking as I fumbled with the small buttons. Sean laid the shirt beside me and blew out his breath. “I’m sorry, Patrick.”
I cringed as I stripped the stained shirt off my body. I tried to answer him—knew he deserved an answer—but my mouth wouldn’t work. My jaw was clenched too tightly, my throat too constricted for speech.
Blood had seeped through, so my pale chest was stained with dark pink. Sean immediately offered to find a rag, slipping out of the room and leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Bad idea.
My elbows dug into my quaking knees, the heels of my hands planted firmly against my temples, fingertips clutching my tangled hair.
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