Bodyguards (4 page)

“I’m not going anywhere,” Vivien
said. “Not until you start making sense.”

To her own ears, her voice sounded
plaintive. This was all too much, too strange.

“I know it’s a lot to take in all
at once,” Brad said. “I’m sorry, I wish I knew how to make it easier on you.”

He patted Vivien’s hand where it
lay on the sofa between them. A few feet away, his brother shifted, crossing
his arms. It was the first time he had moved since planting himself near the
wall. Vivien looked straight up at him; his foreboding frown sent a shiver down
her spine, and her gaze dropped to the knives at his waist.

This man, supposedly from a
different world, had killed, again supposedly to protect her from would-be
kidnappers. He and his twin brother—that, at least, Vivien could believe; the
only differences she could see between them were the lack of tattoo on Aedan’s
wrist and his strangely colored eyes—claimed to have sworn to protect her
because she was some kind of princess...

No. Just, no.

There were limits to Vivien’s
open-mindedness, and this all was far beyond those limits. She pursed her lips
rather than say anything. She didn’t dare look at either of them and meet their
eyes. If she did, she was afraid they would realize she didn’t believe one word
of what Brad had said, and who knew what they would do, then, too caught up in
their delusions to mind killing.

She had to find a way out, get
away from them, get to a phone—get to Anabel and have her confirm this was all
nothing but lies.

Why she needed confirmation,
Vivien wasn’t entirely sure.

“Can I...”

Go, was what she wanted to say,
but with Aedan still standing in front of the door, she already knew the
answer. She pressed both hands to her face and when she started over, her words
came out muffled.

“Can I freshen up a bit? I’m still
sweaty from my run. I need to clear my mind.”

Brad sprung to his feet at once.

“Of course. This way, please.”

Vivien stood, keeping her eyes
down, uncomfortably aware that Aedan was still staring at her. She followed
Brad to the bathroom, and tried her best to offer him a smile without looking
any higher than his mouth. To think that earlier she had asked him on a date...

She closed the door behind her,
and held her breath as she locked it, almost expecting protests to rise from
the other side. When there was no reaction from her captors—because by now, she
had trouble thinking of them as anything else—she quickly assessed the room.
Shower in the corner, toilet, sink and mirror, and most importantly a full-size
window. She could have wept at the sight of it.

Vivien took a step forward, and
almost jumped when two knocks sounded behind her.

“Yes?” she said in a weak voice.

“There are fresh towels under the
sink.”

She had to bite back a bark of
nervous laughter.

“Thank you.”

At the sink, she didn’t check for
towels, but she did turn the water on full blast. How long would her alibi give
her before Brad came to check on her again? She had no time to lose. She
approached the window and, holding her breath, tugged on the lock. It opened
without trouble. Vivien braced her fingers against the frosted glass panels
and, very slowly, pushed up. The window creaked. Vivien winced and stilled.

She listened, holding her breath,
wondering if Brad or his brother would soon be forcing their way inside to stop
her. When she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the water running in the
sink, she continued to push the window up again, one inch at a time, until the
opening was wide enough for her to slip through. She paused then, looking back
at the closed door and asking herself what she was doing. Would she be safe
alone out in the open? What if there were more of those men out there, and they
found her?

But was she safe here, with a man
who had pretended to befriend her and another who had killed without a second
thought? With two men who had fed her an insane story of kings, killers for
hire, and sworn bodyguards?

Maybe she was making a mistake by
running away, but she was not used to letting others direct her life. She
propped the window open and raised one leg high, sliding it out over the sill,
then following with her upper body. She was lucky the apartment was on the
first floor, and landed behind a line of raggedy bushes.

Night had fallen while she
listened to fairy tales. She glanced around to orient herself, then squeezed
out between two bushes. She started to run before she even reached the street.
Her house wasn’t very far; she’d run there and finally call the police. Better
that than to stop and talk to anyone. She wasn’t sure whom she could trust
anymore, and who might turn out to be a raving lunatic.

CHAPTER FOUR

Echoes

The beginning of dizziness and the
burning taste of bile at the back of her throat caused Vivien to slow down when
she reached her street. She’d been running as fast as she could the entire way.
Her breath coming out in sharp little pants, she walked up the driveway and to
the side door.

She’d thought of calling the
police as soon as she reached the house, but now that she was there, something
else was more pressing. She needed to hear Anabel say this was all nothing more
than nonsense, and of course her parents had not been king and queen of some
strange land. It was all just silly.

“Ana?” she called as soon as she
entered.

Nothing but silence answered
Vivien’s call. She crossed the kitchen, heading straight for the front room
where Anabel received customers for her readings. The light above the door was
still on, but Vivien didn’t care at that moment if she interrupted Anabel when
she was about to reveal to a conflicted woman which of her suitors she should
choose. They were all much too old for make-believe.

The front room had once been her
favorite playground as a little girl, and she had pretended to herself that the
room had magic of its own, magic Anabel drew upon to reveal the future to her
customers. Vivien had long since stopped believing in magic, however, and she
couldn’t even remember the last time she had been in there.

As soon as she pushed the door
open, a strong, familiar scent flowed over her, calling her back to her
childhood. The sweetness of Anabel’s ever-present tea, mixed with the deeper
scent of incense, formed an aroma that was always overpowering at first, and
that would cause anyone—except Anabel—to feel a little groggy after a while.

Without the many candles that
usually lit the room, Vivien couldn’t see much. Thick velvet drapes covered the
windows, their deep purple matching the color of the walls and making the room
appear even darker than it was. One thing was all too apparent, though: Anabel
wasn’t there.

Vivien turned around and rushed up
the stairs, heading straight to Anabel’s room. It was empty as well, but Vivien
gasped when she saw it. The state of the room spoke of a break-in, with
furniture upturned and clothes strewn all over. Her heart hammering in her
chest, Vivien started down the hallway again, pausing in front of another open
door to stare in disbelief.

Her room had been tossed as well,
the linens striped off the bed, clothes pulled from the closet and dresser and
thrown onto the floor, her laptop lying in two pieces at opposite ends of the
room. Unbidden, tears of anger rose to her eyes. Who could have done this, and
why? What had they been looking for? More importantly, where was Anabel?

Rushing back downstairs to the
phone, Vivien suddenly noticed the small, dark drops splattered on the
linoleum, more of them close to the door to the front room. Was it...

She gulped and entered the front
room again, her hand fumbling against the wall to find the switch Anabel never
used. The light bulb above her flickered to life and cast a bright light on the
room. For a moment, everything looked as it should be, with the two armchairs
facing each other around the narrow table just waiting for Anabel to receive a
customer. Even the cards were already in place for a reading, set in a neat
pile in the center of the table.

One card had tumbled to the floor,
however; ‘the future,’ Anabel called it. It depicted a little girl, her hands
cupped one on top of the other as though she were protecting something. Without
thinking, Vivien stepped forward to pick it up. When her fingers brushed
against the carpet, however, her heart jumped to her throat and she pulled
back, forgetting the card to stare at the large stain obscuring the abstract
flowers on the carpet. She moved back until her shoulder hit the doorjamb. She
froze, then, raising her left hand to clutch the wood and remain upright.

She had watched a man die,
earlier. She remembered the blood pooling under him, thick and dark—as thick,
as dark as the blood coating her fingers now.

* * * *

Relief swept through Bradan as
soon as he entered Vivien’s house. Without taking one step further, he could
see her, standing past the door on the other side of the kitchen. He turned
back to the driveway and nodded once at Aedan, whose shoulders slumped for a
second before he caught himself. Aedan nodded back, then moved away from the
door. In moments, he all but disappeared into the darkness. Sunlight didn’t
hurt him here the same way it did back home, but entering a house uninvited was
still one of his limitations. Regardless, it made sense for him to stand guard
outside while Bradan talked to Vivien.

What he would say to her, however,
was still a mystery. He’d already tried to explain everything to her and she
clearly hadn’t believed him. If she had, she wouldn’t have run out alone where
Rhuinn’s guards might have snatched her.

He took slow steps across the
kitchen. He’d been there before, always when Vivien was at school or asleep,
and he knew the purpose the front room served. More than once, he’d teased
Anabel about the strange use she had found for her Quickening in this world. He
pushed those memories away to focus on Vivien instead. Why was she standing so
still on the threshold? Why was she trembling, one hand against the doorjamb as
though she needed the support?

“Vivien?”

She shuddered when he said her
name but didn’t turn to look at him.

“Vivien, are you all right?”

When he reached her, he laid a
careful hand on her shoulder. She finally turned to face him. She was ghostly
pale, her expression reflecting a child’s fear. It had been a long time since
he’d seen her so scared. They’d been children then, and Bradan had been too
young to help. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought that, even now, he’d been
unable to shield her from whatever was upsetting her.

“What is it?” he whispered.
“You’re safe, we won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

She raised the hand that wasn’t
clutching the doorjamb and showed him her fingers. They gleamed wetly, covered
in thick blood. Bradan’s eyes widened in alarm, and he grabbed her shoulders,
turning her body fully toward him so he could look at her. He could see no
injury, no blood on her clothing, only on her hand. Still, he had to ask.

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

“It’s not mine,” she said in a
broken voice. “It’s... It was on the floor. I think... Ana isn’t here. I don’t
know where she is. Someone came in. They... Upstairs. They were looking for
something.”

Her eyes met his, and for all the
fear he could see in them, her voice was firm when she asked, “What’s going on?
Who did this? Why did they take her?”

Bradan realized that he could try
to explain it all to her again, but she still wouldn’t believe him, not until
she saw the truth for herself.

“I told you why. But I can show
you.”

His words came out slowly as he
focused on gathering the Quickening; it was harder in this world, with less
energy around him to draw from, but he could always call on the power within
him. His heartbeat accelerated, his vision changing until everything had turned
a dull gray.

“What are you doing?” Vivien
asked, breathless. She was staring at him; could she see the Quickening flowing
around him, pulsing with colors?

“I told you. I’ll show you what
happened. And then you can decide if you believe me or not.”

He brushed his thumb against the
inside of his wrist, an habit he had developed while in this world. His
Quickening, every last bit of power he possessed, was at Vivien’s service. It
had been part of the QuickSilver vow he had sworn, and that vow was a part of
him as surely as the tattoo was.

Raising his left hand palm up, he
made a wide, sweeping gesture in front of him, freeing the Quickening,
directing it to do what he needed. A silver mist instantly rose through the
room, swirling as though from a light breeze. It coalesced into a human shape
sitting at the table. Both her hands rested on either side of the cards in
front of her, but her eyes remained on the door that faced her. It suddenly
burst open. Two men walked in while a third one remained outside the threshold.

“Is that...is that Ana?” Vivien
whispered. “Who are they? How are you doing this?”

Bradan did not reply, focusing
instead on feeding the echo. The Quickening had flowed through all four of
these people and left an imprint on the Otherworld. In a few hours, it would
fade, but for now it allowed Bradan to show Vivien what had happened.

One of the two men, probably the
leader of the unit, talked for a few seconds, his lips moving soundlessly; the
echo retained images, but no sound. The only answer the man received from
Anabel was a shake of her head. On a signal from the leader, the other man
backhanded Anabel over the mouth, splitting her lip and sending her to the
floor. Vivien gasped and lurched forward. Through the echo of the Quickening,
Anabel’s blood was like liquid silver, small drops splattering down as she sat
up but kept her head bowed.

“Do you want me to stop?” Bradan
asked, already preparing to release his focus.

“No!” Vivien’s gaze flicked toward
him, then back to the men. “I want to see what happened.”

Bradan inclined his head and
continued to direct the flow of the Quickening, even if he was beginning to
struggle with it. It had been a while since he had channeled to such an extent,
and never in the Otherworld.

After a few more seconds, the same
man who had backhanded Anabel grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. The
two of them accompanied the other man out of the room and up the stairs. After
a second of hesitation, Vivien followed them, with Bradan on her heels. He
watched her hand rise and brush through the silvery mist that formed Anabel’s
body. He wished he could have reassured her as to Anabel’s fate, but from what
Aedan had told him of Rhuinn’s temper, she very well might be dead.

Upstairs, Bradan and Vivien could
do nothing more than watch as the leader searched the two bedrooms, his
frustration visibly growing as he failed to find what he was looking for.
Again, he interrogated Anabel, and again she refused to answer, staring
stubbornly ahead of her—and as luck had it, straight at where Vivien now stood.

Finally, the three of them
returned downstairs. In the front room, the leader brought both his hands
together; when he separated them again, the open front door was gleaming. The
three men Passed Through, taking Anabel with them. Before she disappeared, she
glanced one last time to where Vivien was standing as though she could see her,
a small but genuine smile touching her mouth. Although the echo held no sound,
when she spoke it was easy to read Vivien’s name on her lips. Her captor
pressed a hand to her back and pushed her through. As the portal dissipated,
the door banged shut.

Breathing hard, Bradan let go of
the Quickening, and color returned to the world. Vivien, however, remained pale
as snow. Her wide eyes shone when she looked at Bradan.

“Where did they go? Where did they
take her?”

“They Passed Through back to our
world,” Bradan said gently. “Back to Foh’Ran. I don’t know where, but those
were Rhuinn’s men so I would guess they took her to him.”

“But why?” She shook her head.
“You said they want me. Why would they take her?”

“She spent the past fifteen years
at your side. Who knows you better than she does?”

Vivien crouched down and picked up
a card on the floor. She held it in both her hands, watching it for a long time
before she finally looked up at Bradan again and asked, “How did you do this?
How did you make all this appear?”

Yet again, Bradan could only
lament that Anabel had opposed telling Vivien anything about who she was or
where she had come from.

“She forgot Foh’Ran,” Anabel had
said, years earlier. “She barely remembers her mother, and if she remembers
seeing anyone channel the Quickening, she just thinks it’s all her imagination.
Why upset her with all this now?”

Bradan had only been a teen, then.
He hadn’t thought it was appropriate to argue with his elder, especially since
Dame Eleoren herself had entrusted her daughter to Anabel. Now, he wished he
had been more persuasive, especially the last time they had met and he had told
Anabel about Aedan’s warning. He had so much to explain to Vivien, he didn’t
know where to start. It didn’t help that she was looking at him as though she
were finally ready to listen—finally ready to believe him.

“People from our world... Well,
most of us, anyway. We have a...power. It’s called the Quickening. We can learn
to do things with it, like opening a portal between Foh’Ran and Earth, like
Rhuinn’s guard did. Or like summoning images of something that happened in a
specific place a few hours ago, like I did.”

Vivien considered the card in her
hands. Her voice rose no louder than a whisper when she asked, “Like reading
the future in cards?”

Technically, Anabel didn’t read
cards, but auras; Bradan didn’t think Vivien needed that bit of knowledge at
that moment, though. He didn’t want to overwhelm her with trivia, merely show
her that her world was different from what she had believed for the past
fifteen years.

“Like that, yes.”

Her frown deepened, and she
dropped the card. Bradan instinctively crouched to pick it up. As he did,
Vivien pushed past him out of the room. Alarmed, Bradan pocketed the card and
followed her as she rushed back upstairs. She entered the first
bedroom—Anabel’s, Bradan would have guessed—and went straight to the dresser.
The drawers had been pulled askew, the contents searched, and clothes scattered
on the floor. Vivien put both hands in the first drawer and searched, flinging
whatever was left aside until the drawer was completely empty.