Revelation (22 page)

He speaks through clenched teeth. "Who sent you?
Answer
me."

"No one. We just met," I choke. The words refuse to pass my lips, make no sound at all.

He loosens his grip, then releases me, stepping back. "You're spending a lot of time together."

"You're
watching
me?" I whisper.

"
Everyone
is watching you," he replies.

A deadly chill races across my skin, breath turning to fog, mimicking the angry blue heat spewing from
laundromat
vents. I reach between the folds of my coat, easing closer, closer, feeling for my skirt. My gun.

"Stay away from him," the man warns, "or you won't live to see another sunrise."

Fingers wrap around the handle.  

Someone else is on us now. The men turn, distracted, and I use the moment to swing my arm around, press the gun into his right forearm, and squeeze the trigger.

A scream. I don't know if it's his or mine, but by the time my eyes re-adjust he's gone. They're gone. I run, heading for the other end of the alley, as far away from this place as my legs will carry me. My ears ring, humming. Feet striking pavement.

I'm not alone.

I feel it—
him
—behind me. Chasing. A side street and another alley, dodging trash cans, street debris, glass and rock crunching underfoot.

His hand wraps around my arm, forcing me to slow.

"Stop!"

I know he's shouted the word, but I can barely hear it it's so far away, muffled.

I stumble, and he pushes me into the wall. "Genesis, stop!" he begs.

A surge of relief pours from my body, tears springing to eyes.

"Oh my God!" I run my thumb across his chin, feel the contours of his face. Examine his eyes. His lips. I must repeat his name over and over again, a thousand times, chest wracked with sobs. "Carter! What the hell are you doing? I thought you were
dead
!"

"
Shhh
. I'm here," he says, hushing me. "I'm here! It's okay! Are you all right?"

Hot tears smear beneath his fingers, cooling against my cheeks. I nod. "I'm fine. What are you . . . I don't . . . I don't understand. How are you. . . ?"  I can't finish a thought. Can't find a solid breath.

He yanks my purse off my shoulder, fishing through it. "
Dammit
, Genesis. You
never
have your inhaler!"

A shaky laugh, borderline hysterical. "You're pissed! I am so
freaking
glad you're pissed!"

"Calm down," he insists. "Breathe."

"I'm fine. I'm just—you have no idea how happy I am to see you."

He searches the space around us. "We need to talk, but it's not safe here. Come with me."

We exit the alley, circle the block, stopping just outside a coffee shop. "Your coat," he says, nodding toward it. "You can't wear that inside."

My white winter coat is dirty, splattered with what—even in the dark—looks like blood. He's right. I can't go anywhere looking like this, so I slip it off my shoulders, shivering against cold, shove it into the trashcan by the entrance.

"And you dropped this." He removes my handgun from his belt. "Hang on tighter next time."

It's late. The restaurant is barely half full. Fresh coffee, ground beans, chocolate, the wood burning fireplace—the smells assault my senses, heat warms my skin. A radio station pipes in music—something alternative—overhead. We wind between tables, settling in a darkened corner.

"What is going on?" I ask Carter, pulling out the chair across from him. "Everyone thinks you
died!
"

"It was the best thing to do," he says. "I can protect you better this way."

"I don't understand. . . ."

"Carter is one of us now."

Mara. She sits down beside him, glancing furtively across the restaurant.

My eyes narrow, bouncing back and forth between them, trying to grasp the meaning of this. "You're a Guardian? But Seth said. . . . How is that even possible?"

"It's possible because that's what the Council was—
is
—doing. They're turning people into Guardians," Carter explains. "Surprise." The revelation falls flat.

"Carter was gracious enough to allow me to test the theory on him. But it's true," Mara confirms. "The Council is taking those who will not be missed. They're building an army, padding their ranks with humans."

"I don't. . . .
What?
"

"It's become something of a social experiment for them," she continues, "but it's failing miserably. There have been problems—glitches that the Council did not anticipate."

"What kinds of glitches?" I ask.

"Memories, for instance," Mara says. "The human mind is powerful. It refuses to forget on its own. To let go. The Council has been forced to eradicate memories after every few charges. But even then there are no guarantees."

Eradicating memories. Making Guardians forget.

Joshua.

"I saw Joshua," I tell her. "On the beach. He had no idea who I was!"

"I know. That's something Carter and I discussed, and I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. I know it upset you."

"What else?"

"The Council didn't take free will into consideration, either. The human-Guardians are falling at an unprecedented rate."

"Falling," I repeat. "So, they're becoming demons?"

"Not immediately," she says. "But inevitably."

A waitress arrives to take our order. Carter and Mara opt for water. I order a coffee. Decaf. A habit it appears I will never shake.

"Seth couldn't remember anything before me," I remind them, as soon as we're alone again. "He didn't remember anyone. And you know he doubted the Council. He didn't trust them. It would explain why the two of you didn't know each other, when you guys are supposed to have been around forever."

"I know," Mara replies. "It would also explain his connection to you—his feelings for you. Even if he didn't remember his previous life, something was pulling him toward you. He couldn't fight it. It wasn't
worth
fighting, to him. It wasn't typical Guardian behavior. We could all see that."

My breath stutters, insides lifting. "So Seth might have been like me, once."

"It's possible," Mara says. "It's probable, even."

Seth was a human. He was never meant to be a Guardian.

"Oh my God. What are we
gonna
do?"

"I don't know," Mara confesses. "The information I have is stitched together from a thousand conversations. And it works—their method. I was easily able to bring Carter over."

"How?"

"Ignorance of our world and the rules that bind us is preferable, in this case," she says. "You know too much already. Should something go wrong. . . ."

I nod, understanding. Should something happen—with the Council, Viola, the
Diabols
, whatever—it's better that I not know some of these details. "I can't believe you didn't tell me," I accuse, mind spinning circles. "You
planned
this.
Both
of you."

"I'm sorry," Carter apologizes. "I wanted to, but it was better that you didn't know. I knew the risks, and I knew you'd try to talk me out of it."

"That's why you left me at your house that day."

"Yeah. I mean, if I was going to fake my death, I didn't want any evidence pointing back to you. If you didn't have an alibi, people would get suspicious. We were only married a month, if that."  

"Carter and I discussed everything beforehand. I was concerned, to be honest. I knew there was a very real possibility Viola or the Council would come for him, too. They'd already stripped his protection when you fled. If I had to choose, I'd want him on our side. He felt the same," Mara says.

The waitress returns with our drinks. I rip open a pack of sugar, stir my coffee, blow against it, persuading it to cool. My eyes settle on Carter.
Carter
, who's here, sitting across from me. Alive. A Guardian. "Are you happy?" I finally ask.

A bright smile. "Yeah, I am. I knew I'd never be like my dad, Gee. I didn't
want
to be like him. I was never sure about my future. My plans. Now I know it's because of this. This is where I
wanna
be."

"You could have told me. I would've understood."

"I know."

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," he replies.

"He's watching," Mara says. "We keep him as close to you as possible without drawing unnecessary attention. The Council is always nearby. More so than usual. Now, you must tell us: what is your interest in Lucien
Castellani
?"

I continue stirring, twirling the spoon around and around, porcelain clinking. "Luke is my assignment," I confess, voice low. "The Council wants him dead. They asked me to do it. They promised Seth as payment."

"That's impossible," she mutters, not understanding. "The Council
asked
you to kill Lucien?"

"Only one of them came to me. The head guy, I guess. Grayish hair. Short."

"Silas," she whispers, slanting a look at Carter.

"There's more. Viola
also
wants him out. She said if I succeed, Seth is mine. It's perfect, actually. Like two birds with one stone."

Mara shakes her head. "It's impossible," she repeats.

"It's not impossible," I counter. "All I have to do is figure out what drives him. He's spending more and more time with me. He'll never suspect. . . ."

"It isn't that easy!
Think
, Genesis. What are the odds that the Council
and
Viola came to you with the same request, promising the same reward?"

"He's a demon, Mara. I'm trained to kill demons. You trained me, remember?"

She sits back, shoulders falling, eyes widening as the realization washes over her: "This is why they called on me. Why the Council assigned me to you. They weren't trying to eliminate
Diabols
or help you with Viola. They were planning to oust Lucien."

"They wouldn't want anyone to talk, which is why they cleared the Guardians away," Carter adds. "To give her a fair shot to succeed."

"And if she didn't. . . ." The rest is left unsaid, hovering between us.

"I can do this," I say. "I have everything I need. I have the tools. I have access to him. I have his trust. . . . He's invited me to Europe."

"You said no," Mara says, voice hopeful.

"I haven't given him an answer. But if I can spend just a little more time with him—find the information I . . ."

"Do you have
any
idea who he is?" Mara interrupts, tone bordering on shrill, forehead creased with outrage.

"I know he's a demon. And that he's powerful."

"Lucien isn't just a powerful demon. He's
the
most powerful
Diabol
to walk the earth. The
Prince
of Demons. You're in a very precarious situation, Genesis. This is too great—even for you."