The Seer

by Marie Johnston

  “She…left? When? Why?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Demetrius that Isabelle feared for another child like herself, but he didn’t. He should. Demetrius was on the Synod, his people’s new government. Demetrius also ran the team that functioned like Scurn used to, only with more questions and better morals. The team didn’t unfailingly follow the Synod’s decrees. They worked to protect vampires from the underworld—they saved kids, they didn’t kill them.

  “We’re at your parents’, and she’s looking for someone.” Scurn squeezed his eyes together. “You know how she is.”

  Betrayal wicked through him, but it was the best way he knew to keep Demetrius out of tonight and out of the way.

  Demetrius cut the line with instructions to call if needed. Scurn rubbed his scalp. His mind drifted back to five minutes earlier.

  She’d kissed him. She’d initiated it. And she’d tasted sweeter than any of the desserts she’d shared with him over the years.

  He’d kissed her back. Enthusiastically. Hell, he was a horrible bodyguard.

  It couldn’t happen again. She was his to protect, not to use for himself.

  With a heavy exhale, he followed her.

  Voices filtered out of the garage. Madame Devereux had sought out Isabelle. They missed their daughter. Did Isabelle know that? He saw it the few times they’d visited Isabelle at the compound, but she always held herself back. Her typical free speech was restrained when they were around, like she thought it was better not to speak at all.

  Isabelle had removed her ridiculous hat. It’d been absurd in the way it framed her face, making her pale green eyes shine as bright as the moon and revealing the delicate curve of her jaw and the incredible length of her neck.

  Stupid hat.

  What was she doing hiding her rich brown hair? He’d once seen a herd of deer running through the night, their coats gleaming under the moonlight. Like her hair. Was fawn brown a color?

  You never offered.

  She always told him she got to choose. Was that what she meant? She could choose from whom she fed?

  He didn’t like it. Yet how could he feed her when he dined off of drunk college students who wouldn’t be affected by the lack of blood? The college bar was on the edge of town and if he struck at the right time, he could siphon enough to make the would-be drunk driver too woozy to get behind the wheel. Then he’d shuffle them into the back seat to sleep one off. Being powered by the blood of bad decisions didn’t make him an option for Isabelle’s meal.

  He almost stopped mid step as he crossed through the garage door. Isabelle stood on the passenger side. He was driving? He’d never driven before. Cars had been around, but he’d flashed or used horses, both acceptable methods for sneaking up on people. Vampire hearing would pick up on the noise of an engine and that hadn’t changed as engines grew quieter.

  He wasn’t a recluse. He watched shows and could navigate the city without being a wide-eyed boob, but…barely.

  Madame Devereux spoke quietly. Scurn couldn’t make out her words, but the distant look in Isabelle’s eyes told him enough.

  “Shall we go, Isabelle?”

  She opened the door and climbed in without acknowledging him. “Fare thee well, Mother. Try to remember I’m not a poodle.”

  Her mother’s brow creased and she cast an appealing look at him. “You will take care of her?”

  Scurn inclined his head. “Always.” He glanced at the master. “I notified Demetrius. It will be okay.”

  Isabelle’s parents stared through the windows at Isabelle sitting primly, her hands folded on her lap. Her outfit was ridiculous, too. The way the fabric fitted her curves so well he could imagine exactly how her breasts would fit into his hands. She called to him on a primitive level. He needed to quit looking at her.

  She’d kissed him.

  “We are grateful for you, Scurn,” Master Devereux said.

  Scurn choked back his apologies. He was lusting over their daughter, who he’d tried to kill as a child, and was lying by omission for her. He’d done nothing to earn their gratitude. He nodded and crawled in.

  When he was closed in with Isabelle, she was only inches away in the passenger seat of the Mercedes-Benz. Vanilla citrus surrounded him and the memory of her kiss overwhelmed him. He stared at the steering wheel, afraid that stuffing his desire down would only open the avenue for terror about driving.

  “Do I have to remind you I’m not a poodle?” she said, handing the keys to him. She’d misread him, which spared his ego.

  “You do realize poodles are intelligent, energetic, and sociable. Which of those are you saying you’re not?”

  He lifted his gaze to her luminescent eyes. Her lips were pursed as she tried to decipher his question. He’d taken her off guard for once. “I guess I’m not sociable. But I’m not a strange-looking creature to be hidden away.”

  “Poodles are often put on show because of their unique looks.”

  “And I would’ve been put on show for my unique behavior. Therefore, I’m not a poodle.” She smiled triumphantly.

  He chuckled. Now he followed her line of thought. Sometimes it took work, but the journey was worth it.

  His gaze caught on the Devereuxes’ flared eyes and open mouths. Had they never seen him laugh? Certainly never with their daughter.

  He cleared his throat. “Tell me what I need to do.”

  She covered her mouth like she was yawning as she rattled off rapid-fire directions. He got the key in, fired up the engine, and put it in reverse. His heart hammered against his ribs. He used to face the most influential and powerful of their kind on a daily basis, and he’d hunted and killed those who threatened them. But driving scared the shit out of him.

  “R is reverse. Ease your foot onto the gas.”

  The car flew backward.

  “Brake!” He slammed on the brake. Hellfire, this was nothing like reading about driving. In case Isabelle had wanted to venture out, he’d read the manuals. But she’d never seemed interested.

  Isabelle adopted a serene smile and waved at her parents. Hitting the button for the garage door, they both waited until it closed before talking.

  “That wasn’t bad—” she started.

  “They didn’t buy—”

  They both stopped. She sputtered a laugh. He grinned.

  “You know I can’t drive,” he said.

  “Bartholomew Scurn doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

  His smile faded. What was she alluding to?

  She twisted in her seat and feathered her fingers over his jaw. “It doesn’t always come back around to your past.”

  “My past is me.”

  “Your past was you.”

  “Why do you talk like you do around me and not around anyone else?” She didn’t speak much to the others in the compound, but she was still cryptic with everyone but him.

  “Drive, Bartholomew Danders Scurn.”

  When she didn’t want to answer, he’d learned to drop the subject. She guided him through a lurching ascent up the drive. Once they disappeared far enough into the trees, he stopped and put it in park. His shoulders were tight, but he was finally able to draw in a deep breath.

  They switched seats. He jogged around the front and she rounded the back of the car. Another way to avoid him?

  She crushed her hat back on her head before adjusting the seat and the mirrors. “Ease on the gas, watch your mirrors, stay off the busy roads,” she muttered to herself.

  “He must’ve really taken his time to teach you.” Jealousy burned through him.

  “He was lonely. He taught three daughters how to drive, but they’re grown and live out of state.”

  Scurn unclenched his jaw. “Do you visit him often?”

  “Not anymore. He was human. I couldn’t take that much blood from him. But he taught me how to drive in return for macaroons.”

  “The cookies?”

  “Yes. His home nurse policed his diabetes religiously.
Humans live such short lives, why spoil what time they have by eating kale?”

  “Because they don’t want to be miserably unhealthy.”

  “Well, he was miserable. I gave him extra macaroons for the blood I took and he gave me driving lessons, though he only remembered the lessons, not the blood.” Her eyes shone and her breath hitched. “He passed away last month.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry. He enjoyed his life but was ready to go. He was my first friend.” Scurn could’ve just as well been stabbed in the gut with her declaration. He was just her bodyguard. “Blissfully human. You asked why I speak differently with you. Like with my human friend, I don’t get bombarded with noise and information around you.”

  She pulled away and kept the speed down, leaning forward over the steering wheel and looking left and right. He wasn’t sure whether he should interrupt her or not, but she seemed rather confident. Her friend had obviously given her several lessons. How refreshing it must’ve been for her to have a quiet mind around while she learned an exciting new skill.

  “Why have you never told me?” he finally asked.

  She glanced at him. “I thought it was obvious. Why else would I spew riddles around others and not you?”

  Well, when she said it like that…

  Instead of staring at her strong profile with her patrician nose and her full, pouty lower lip, instead of admiring how her eyes glowed under the moonlight, he stared out his passenger window.

  They were heading to town. The trees were thinning out, and sprawling houses with admirable acreage turned into smaller homes arranged in developments. Many of the structures were newer, but they aged the closer to town they got.

  He remembered when all of this was nothing but trees. The roads had been maintained well, but now they were pavement and the travel smoother. He’d also ridden in cars the few times he’d accompanied Isabelle out with her brother or when they’d moved to the compound, but this car hummed. The engine didn’t assault his ears and he didn’t feel like gripping the dash in fright.

  He’d driven it after all.

  “You want me to teach you how to drive?” Isabelle asked. She turned a corner, leaning into it and slapping one hand over the other on the steering wheel.

  “I thought you didn’t get readings with me.”

  She smiled but kept her gaze on the road. “You were rubbernecking, then you switched to stroking the dash with your eyes.”

  “It’s a nice car.” He switched the subject because he wasn’t ready to learn to drive and he didn’t need to be thinking about stroking anything around Isabelle. “Freemont’s changed.”

  “Remember what a tiny town it used to be? It’ll be much harder to find her now.”

  They started passing gas stations, strip malls, and banks. “How many banks does one city need?”

  “Money is the foundation we build our life on.”

  He’d heard her say that before, but different variations. When a prime male had approached the council about the cryptic words of a young girl, he’d been there. She’s saying that greed is the foundation our government is built on. She says you don’t work for us, that you take bribes from…demons.

  Scurn had thought it sounded absurd, and he still had even after he was dispatched to wipe out a family that was a threat to their kind.

  They were feeding lies to the people, the council had said. Undermining their authority. Spreading dissent. Urging a coup. They were dangerous, and according to the council’s “investigation,” they had violently persuaded a family to take their side.

  “You’re in the past,” Isabelle said.

  Scurn turned back to the scenery. Just like the homes had gotten older closer to town, buildings were also getting taller the closer they got to the business district. It was the dead of night, a few hours until dawn. Traffic would be scarce, but Isabelle was skirting downtown. Primes lived nestled in the woods all around Freemont, but it was unusual to find them in the middle of the city.

  “I was thinking about the lies the council told to sic me on you.” He had no issues admitting this to her. They’d talked about it before.

  “Lies were their specialty.” Isabelle turned again. She was headed to the eastern part of Freemont.

  “What did you mean when you said I need to think about why I was sent?”

  She sighed and maneuvered the car to a curb and parked. Relaxing into her seat, she shifted to look at him. “I knew you were coming that night. I knew I might die.”

  His world slowed to a stop. She’d never looked saner. Sage, even. The weight of her gift was in her eyes.

  She’d known she might get killed? “I don’t understand.”

  “I had two choices, yes? Tell my parents and we go on the run. Or stay. I couldn’t see you. I could only see that we would all get hurt, but the outcome…” She raised her finger in the air like a light bulb went off when not even a dome light was on. “If we die, it raises questions to the families who listened to me, who knew my parents were protecting me from the council. They would band together, but many would lose their lives before succeeding in stopping the council. If we live, Demetrius shifts his rage, all of his focus, to destroying the council.” She used the same finger to poke him in the arm. “It all hinged on you.”

  He’d been around her every single day for 105 years, but the Isabelle he’d known was different than the one sitting in this car with him. The responsibility she’d had at so young an age. The terror she must’ve lived with until the night he’d broken into her home, her sanctuary.

  “Hellfire, Isabelle. I…”

  She tapped him between the eyes. “Think, Bartholomew.” When had she started using his first name? When had he started liking it so much? “If you hadn’t seen me dying, would you have altered your path?”

  “You were just a kid,” he croaked. “I didn’t know.” He’d been told an adult relative was in her room. Hurting children hadn’t been part of his mission. He and another of his teammates had bashed their way inside her room while the other two had gone to assassinate the parents, but Scurn had stopped at the frilly pink canopied bed. His instincts had screamed at him that he’d been wrong.

  “And you saved me.” Isabelle’s eyes glowed in the dashboard lights, the green of her irises reflecting the reds and yellows.

  He swallowed hard and nodded. He’d torn her attacker limb from limb. Then he’d canvased the house. The Devereuxes had fought admirably, but they and their son had been losing. Scurn had killed the rest of his team and ashed their bodies in the sunlight.

  He’d never returned to his old life, instead stationing himself outside of Isabelle’s room. The rest of the family had adjusted to his presence after he confessed the entire story. He’d even given Master Devereux a stake to ash him. For a few moments, the male’s eyes had flared and Scurn had thought he was taking his last breaths. But the male had finally handed the stake back and requested an oath instead, one Scurn had readily given.

  Outside the house, Isabelle’s parents and Demetrius had pretended as if they’d lost her to a home invader. She’d been dead to the world until the new government had taken over.

  She was trying to tell him it was fate, but hers wasn’t the first family he’d destroyed, just the first time kids had been the targets.

  She moved to tap him on the head, but it turned into a caress, stroking over his eyebrow and down his cheek. “You’re in the past.”

  “You say I had a choice, but before you—”

  “Shh. I was the fulcrum. The council built a foundation of loyalty in you. Your family served without question, you served without question. Whether you would be able to stop and ask, that was the question.”

  “The ones before you, they were probably innocent.”

  “They probably were.” Her eyes filled with sympathy and he turned his head into her hand. He shouldn’t enjoy her touch so much, should lean out of her reach. “The best thing you did for them was not to stand with the council,
so it could be dismantled from the inside out by my brother.”

  He almost agreed. But she hadn’t been there. She hadn’t been the one to dust a mated couple because the male had refused to float a loan to the council. They were stealing from us, the council had raged. Crooks.

  She pulled her hand away. The loss of her touch left him barren and cold. Tonight was the only night they’d touched and he craved it more and more.

  She pulled away from the curb. They had more area to cover and the night was waning. “History is going to repeat itself. This girl is going to talk, evil people are going to plot, and they won’t have a Scurn to send after her.”

  Chapter 4

  Driving was one of the most freeing and terrifying activities she’d ever done. But that kiss…that had been the most everything she’d ever done. Until Scurn had acquiesced to her father’s wish to call Demetrius. He’d said she was an adult, then he’d treated her like a poodle. Was this nothing more than her walk for the night?

  But he’d been her protector for years, so she couldn’t completely fault him. There’d been nothing else in his life for over a century but guarding her, so yeah, if he called Demetrius, she shouldn’t complain. Not to mention that she hadn’t exactly wielded lady balls of titanium when facing her parents. Both she and Scurn had reverted to mentally tortured girl and guilt-ridden warrior.

  They were in East Freemont, but her radar wasn’t pinging. “That’s weird. I can’t pinpoint her.”

  “Have you ever tried finding anyone before?” Scurn was scanning their surroundings like they might pass a house with a sign that said Gifted Child Inside.

  “No, but the sensation was so clear. Eastern Freemont, young girl who was in danger because she’s a seer.”

  Scurn whipped his head around. “Danger?”

  “Why else would I leave suddenly to find her?” She might’ve, just to meet someone else whose thoughts pinged all over like hers.

  “Isabelle. I know you hate when people ask you questions without thinking about what you said, but you must remember we’re not mind readers.”