Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (35 page)

It hurt me to think about him. It hurt me to wonder if he was thinking about me. Did he even try to find me? What would I do if he knocked on my door right now? A war raged inside of me. Half of me wanted Holden regardless of anything else. The past couldn't be changed and the future was short and uncertain, why couldn’t I have him? But another more determined part of me continuously chanted that he couldn’t be forgiven for Christopher.

The alcohol didn't help the dissenting voice in my mind at all. In fact, it seemed to feed the needier and forgiving one. I went back into the room, grabbed my phone, then returned to the patio once more. I held it, thinking about turning it on. I could call him. I could just hear his voice. I didn't have to talk to him—just listen. I sat the phone on the table and chewed on my fingernails. I took another long swig. It no longer burned as I drank it; now it was a subtle warming.

I picked the phone up again and turned it on. It beeped that I had messages, but I ignored the alert and scrolled through the address book until I came to his name. I stared at it for minutes, maybe hours. My finger hovered over the send button. It didn't matter that it was nearly 2 a.m. here and even earlier back in Missouri. I wanted to hear his voice. I pushed send and my heart raced. What if he was happy I was gone? What if he didn't want to talk to me? What if he didn’t want me now that I was in line to be a guardian? What if he was angry with me for leaving? What if he moved on? What if he found me? Even worse, what if he didn’t care at all?

“Hello?” The timber of his voice made my heart stop. He sounded sleepy and slightly slurred. I wondered if he’d been drinking too. I wanted so badly to say something, but words failed me. “Hello,” he repeated. I heard him shifting in his bed. “Olivia? Are okay? Are you all right? Are you ... Can you—” he sighed. “When are you coming home?”

I hung up. Just a taste wasn't enough, now all of my senses were screaming at me again. They wanted more and would not be denied. I turned off the phone again and took another drink. Then I stood up and looked out over the desert. The warm dry breeze ruffled my hair. The darkness beyond looked frightening, yet inviting.

 ”Sometimes when you gaze long into the Abyss, the Abyss also gazes into you,” I said, quoting Nietzsche to the darkness that engulfed the land in front of me. Suddenly I felt startled, more by my own words, than anything else. The moment I spoke them, I felt them to be true. The darkness was trying to engulf me. It was held off only by the feeble backlight provided by my room. Was the abyss staring at me? I could feel eyes watching me, waiting for me to make the wrong move. I could feel hatred. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My heart thumped in my chest—

I took a faltering step back from the railing, then another and another. Once inside, I slid the doors closed behind me and locked them. Immediately the frightening sensation subsided. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I lay down in my bed and went to sleep.

Scenery flew by as I drove into a cookie cutter subdivision. The street was eerily quiet. No birds, children, dogs, people, or any sounds whatsoever. Not even the wind rustling through the trees—nothing penetrated the all-encompassing silence. I walked into the house. It was ordinary in everything except its feeling of extreme emptiness. The house was furnished, but it felt dead. A bucket lying at the bottom of the stairs almost seemed to be beckoning me. I went to look at it. It was filled with a dark unidentifiable liquid that gave off a chemical odor. I picked the bucket up by its handle and carried it outside. A feeling in the pit of my stomach said everything there was evil. I needed to leave.

Another car pulled up behind mine. A strange man in a dark suit got out. He wasn’t surprised to see me. His eyes were dark and fathomless. The hair on the back of my neck and arms prickled and I froze, filled with dread. He leaned in to speak with the person still in the car, and I knew this was my moment to escape.

I threw contents of the bucket through the open passenger window. The men screamed silently. The passenger took the brunt of the chemicals, but the driver standing outside the car looking in didn’t escape unscathed. Burns rose along one side of his face and his ear was hanging unnaturally low.

I took off without looking back, cutting through the empty yards towards the woods. Running through the trees, branches scratched my arms and tore at my face. Where was I going? I didn’t know, all I knew was that I was fleeing for my life. Were they following me? Why couldn't I hear anything? Maybe it was me, maybe I couldn’t hear. What if I was deaf?

I broke through the woods and into a trailer park. I still hadn't looked behind me, but I knew he was following. I frantically knocked on doors—was surprised then relieved when I could hear my own knocking. Finally a woman with limp dishwater-blonde hair answered a door. She took in my panic stricken look with jaded glance, then glanced over my shoulder.

“Come in quickly. Hurry.”

I obeyed, and she shut the door behind me. She removed a painting from her wall and revealed a large alcove. Three people were sitting on a shelf, looking as scared and confused as I felt.

“Hurry get in, they won't look for you here.”

It seemed absurd to hide on a shelf behind a painting, but what other choice did I have? I couldn’t be caught—that was imperative. I sat cross-legged next to the others. And she hung the painting back in place, throwing us into darkness. Within seconds there was a knock on her door.

“Did a woman just run through here?” said a man with a cold voice.

“I haven't seen anyone all day.” I heard them push past her. My heart thumped in my chest. What if they looked here? How would I escape? I braced myself and held my breath. They crashed and banged, tearing through her things, stomping back and forth in front of the picture.

“If you see her—or anyone—you know what to do.”

“Yes, of course.”

The door shut. Was it a trick? Had they really left? The painting lifted from the wall and the woman ushered me out.

“Are they gone?” I hissed.

“As far as I know, but they’ll be back. I think he could sense you. You must go. I can protect the others, but you mustn’t be caught.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. Just remember to come back when you have help.”

“Where should I go?”

“Only you know that.”

I peeked through the window and saw no one outside. I opened the door and crept out of the trailer. A familiar old truck sat in the driveway. I ran to it and jumped into the driver’s seat. The truck started easily and I rumbled away. I didn't know where I was going, but knew I had to get there quickly. I drove and drove. Finally I stopped at a diner. It was mostly deserted except for a couple of bored waitresses and a man at a booth in the back who sat reading the menu. I took the booth in front of his and glanced out the window.

“Olivia.” A relieved familiar voice said. ”I’ve been waiting for you.” My heart raced. I looked up at Holden. He didn't move closer to me, but his lips quirked into a slight smile.

“Holden.” It felt right to say his name, but I was immediately plagued with doubts. “Are you helping them?”

“Who?”

“The people after me?”

He sighed as if exhausted. “Of course not. I’m on your side.”

The warm restaurant started to fade. Holden pleaded with me to wait, said he had so much to say, but I couldn't stop the dream from receding—and I didn't know that I wanted to.

I opened my eyes and saw the light shining through my hotel window. I knew I had to do two things today. I had to read Juliet's suicide note and I had to go home.

Twenty Four

I lay in bed reviewing the last few hours, wondering at how in the world I was still alive. I knew the moment I saw Augustus I was dead. They knew about everything, and they’d sent my mentor to kill me—it was their way, it was my way. I hadn’t seen him in decades, so why else would he be there?

I scowled, but didn’t respond to his quip about being irresponsible.

“It isn't like you to be sloppy, Holden—but it was amusing,” he said with a sinister twinkle in his reptilian eyes.

“I try,” I said dryly.

“Are you not curious why I’m here?”

“Questioning you has never gotten me very far. You’ll tell me when you want to and not a moment sooner.”

Augustus smiled and it made his face look young, contrary to the age shown in his eyes. “I can’t argue with that. So how have you been? How are things going?”

“Fine,” I replied, letting suspicion tinge my voice. 

“Never were one for small talk, were you? The ladies always did love the strong, silent type.”

“I suppose.”

Augustus laughed. “I’ll tell you why I’m here, old friend. My, you are touchy today. I’m only here to visit you on my stop in the Midwest. I heard there’s a bigger game in St. Louis than we’ve seen the likes of in, well, longer than either of us have been alive. I came to watch it unfold. Have you heard any chatter?”

“Not really.” Could it really be that he didn't know? “What kind of game?”

“You want in?”

I shrugged, remaining noncommittal.

“Not likely. They won't let me in either. This is the big leagues—they sent demons up for it. Apparently, a new guardian was
born
. Everyone is hell bent, forgive the pun, on stopping the change.”

“Wouldn't he want help?”

“No, hell, he probably wouldn't recognize us for what we are. Still too human, you know. It’s best to watch from a distance and stay out of his way.”

“Why’s this one so interesting?”

“I have no idea. Rumors are she’s different, but no one will say much more than that—just that she’s something our world hasn’t seen.”

I shrugged, feigning bored indifference.

Augustus laughed again. “So you’re too cool for this too? Well, I’m old man, what can I say? I like my diversions—and any chance we get to prevent them from increasing their forces, right? Apparently this girl is slippery.”

“Slippery?”

“She keeps disappearing. He’s having trouble keeping up with her. It’s like someone’s shielding her. He killed someone in her apartment then she vanished. Feelers have been sent out to all the regions, which is how I heard about the fiasco. So far nothing, but I figure she can’t hide for long. She’s just a human.” 

“How’d he manage to lose a human?”

“He anticipated wrong. He assumed she’d go to her mother's after she found the body, so he waited there—she never came. He couldn't stay at the apartment, too many police.”

“Any idea where she went?”

“No, he couldn't pick up her scent. The guardians must be protecting her—though you think that’d be enough to detect. They shine like damn beacons. . . . Somehow they must’ve managed to make her go dark.”

“She’s a human. She couldn’t possibly have that bright of a light.”