The Guardian (Callista Ryan Series) (47 page)

             
“Because the Guardians are, and always will be, the more powerful people,” Emeric growled, clearly frustrated by Shay’s defense of Milo. “Milo proved that when he obliterated two thirds of the Sirens. I needed to make sure that I was not setting myself up to be murdered. And so I decided to murder you first.”

             
“You used your position as chief to help you set up for the war,” Serena guessed. “You wanted the circumstances to be right when the Sirens attacked. That’s why Zeke wasn’t supposed to be here. Most of the protectors are on assignment right now. Even Alex would have been gone, I’ll bet, had Callie not been such an issue. Had she grown wings when she was thirteen, and had he taken her to the forest four years ago, you probably would have had him fighting right along Zeke in some valley out there. You did all of it so that we would be as unprepared for war as possible.”

             
Emeric tipped his head to the side in silent agreement.

             
“But then why let Zeke stay?” Serena asked. “And why am I not out on assignment?”

             
“Not to cast you in an unflattering light, Serena, but you were never that skilled as a protector,” Emeric said, his tone mockingly consoling. Serena ground her teeth together. “And I knew as soon as I saw you with Zeke that he would disrupt your ability to fight even further. Moreover, your death might be
his
downfall. Why pass up the chance to get rid of two of you?”

             
“And ever since you came back, you’ve been planning that?” Serena asked. “Even when you looked us in the eyes, treated us as your family…you were planning our demise the entire time?”
              “I am surprised, Serena,” Emeric said. “I never knew you to be one for sentiment.”

             
“I’m not one for traitors,” Serena corrected him.

             
“Well I am not one for martyrs,” Emeric retorted. “Giving up our lives for the cause of humanity never suited me.”

             
“And yet you would have had Callie be one?” Serena asked. “You would have sent her into battle to die for your cause had she proven to be a Siren.”

             
“But she wasn’t a Siren,” he said. “I knew that the second she told me she had Perceived upon them. And while it was disappointing, it was hardly surprising. She never had the cutthroat attitude particular to Sirens.”

             
“So you were going to kill her,” Serena finished.

             
Emeric hesitated. “Yes,” he said. But he didn’t look at Callie. And his voice wavered a bit too much.

             
Serena did something then which astounded Callie: she smiled. She took a step nearer to Emeric, so close to him now that they were face to face. “You know what that tells me, Emeric?” she asked.

             
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

             
She leaned in the last few inches, and murmured, “That she’s the way we can
win
.”

             
And that was when everything began to move at once. Suddenly, Shay’s good arm shot forward, almost knocking into Callie. Callie jumped backwards, and saw that the serrated knife had been hauled across the room. Serena caught it behind her back without even looking at it, just as Emeric spun Serena around in a fierce grip, clamping one forearm over her throat, the other hand immediately taking hold of her left wing.

             
But before he could tear the wing from its place, Serena curled her right arm upwards, the knife gleaming in the purple rays of the setting sun, and drove the knife into Emeric’s neck. He roared out in pain, and Serena used that moment to whirl around and leveled his chest with a vertical kick. Emeric was shoved backwards, and Callie thought for a split second that he would be forced out the door and fall to the forest floor below. But his arms snaked outwards and took hold of either side of the doorframe, and almost instantly he reached up and yanked the knife out of his neck. Deep auburn rivulets began to flow freely from the hole, but he barely seemed to notice. In the next moment, he had catapulted the knife in a perfect spiral so that it soared through the air and into the center of Serena’s sternum.

             
Serena cried out, staggering backwards half a step, looking down at the knife in shock. That gave Emeric the chance to extend his wings in a rush of motion and surge across the small space between them, lifting off of the ground just enough so that he was above her when he reached her, and was able to reach down with both arms and clamp onto her wings.

             
Serena, sensing his intent, shoved her legs up into the air, circling in an awkward backflip, thrusting her knees into Emeric’s chest mid-arc. The movement thrust him across the rest of the room, using his own momentum against him. He was driven head-first into the far wall, shattering the woodwork so that fireworks of deeply-carved cracks erupted from the boards. His head snapped backwards as the rest of his body surged forwards, and Callie heard the distinct cracking of his neck being broken.

             
For a second, he lay in a pile, his skull resting at an awkward angle. Callie drew a shaky breath, certain that he was dead. He was so still, his eyes open and glazed, staring at the forest.

             
But then Serena ran over to Shay and hissed, “How long do we have?”

             
“He must have broken his C1 or C2,” Shay replied. “I would estimate about five minutes until it heals and he is conscious again.”

             
Serena nodded, and squeezed her eyes shut, grabbing the handle of the knife as she took a deep breath. She pulled it out in a sudden, swift movement, oddly reminiscent of someone ripping off a Band-Aid, and screamed a muffled, furious cry as blood began to pour forth.

             
Callie gasped. But Serena didn’t acknowledge her reaction.

             
Instead, Serena turned to Shay again and said, “I am going to go for help. I will be back within that time.”

             
Shay hesitated, and then cast a fearful glance at the crumpled hill of Emeric’s body, but replied, “Alright.”

             
Serena was gone before the word was half-spoken. Callie felt a shiver of imminent danger run through her. “What if she isn’t back in time?” she whispered.

             
Shay swallowed. “Then he will kill us.”

Chapter Twenty Five

Beginnings

             
“What if w
e
move him?” Callie asked. “We could throw him out the door.”

             
She was pacing now across the living room, dreading every sound, every second that passed by. She knew with indescribable clarity that he would wake up before Serena returned. And, while it was difficult to believe that he could actually kill them, his friends, she had seen the way he had fought with Serena. He was merciless, fatal. He hadn’t hesitated when he’d seen an opportunity to kill her. He wouldn’t, Callie was beginning to suspect, hesitate to kill them, either.

             
“No,” Shay said. “Doing so could easily help with the realignment of his spine. He could awaken sooner if we accidentally help him heal.”

             
“Well we can’t do
nothing,
” Callie said.

             
Shay exhaled slowly. “I can’t do anything besides lay here,” she said with frustration. “And you are too weak to divest him of his wings. There is nothing we can do.”

             
Callie blanched at the suggestion that she would kill him if it were possible.

             
Something shuffled the leaves outside the window, and Callie jumped. But it was only the breeze.

             
“How long has it been?” Callie asked softly.

             
Shay craned her neck to look at the clock in the kitchen. “About three minutes. Do you see the way his bruises are beginning to turn purple? That means that he is likely close to being healed.”

             
“Great,” Callie said, though it sounded like a curse.

             
Shay was quiet for a few seconds, and then she said, “Go into the kitchen. In the cupboard there is a blue glass bottle with no label. Bring that, and a pack of matches from the flower pot on the windowsill, into this room.”

             
Callie froze. She would have asked why, but she saw that it was becoming difficult for Shay to speak. And so she walked into the kitchen. She opened three cupboards before she found one with an unlabeled blue bottle. And then she searched through the several flower pots on the windowsill, each blossoming with pungent green or purple leaves, until she found a pack of matches partially concealed in the dirt of one. She brought them back into the living room.

             
“Here,” she said, offering them to Shay.

             
But Shay didn’t reach for them. Instead, she winced as she leaned over the side of the couch and retrieved the knife Serena had dropped onto the ground.

             
“Take this,” Shay said, pressing the knife into Callie’s palm. “Now go over to where he is laying. Douse him liberally with the liquid from the bottle.”

             
“Why? Shay, what is this?” Callie asked.

             
“Do as I say,” Shay commanded, her face turning a sickly shade of white.

             
And so Callie walked over to Emeric’s body, hesitating after each step, feeling her heart begin to pound as she neared him. She imagined him springing to life and lunging at her, realized how close she was to what could be her murderer.

             
As soon as she opened the bottle, the smell alerted her to its contents. She spun to face Shay. “Acetone?” she asked.

             
Shay gestured for her to continue. Callie shut her eyes for a brief second, realizing what this meant. The acetone would catch the fire of one of the matches. It would cover Emeric in flame, burn him. And, while Callie doubted that this would kill him, she knew how extremely painful it would be.

             
But she wasn’t the only one in danger if she didn’t do as Shay instructed. Shay would be the victim of her cowardice, too. And so, even as she felt her will crumble and fold, she began sprinkling the liquid over Emeric’s unconscious form.

             
The scent overwhelmed her senses, pervading through the room in deadly threat of what was to come.

             
Shay nodded. “Now, light one of the matches.”

             
“Shay, I can’t,” Callie said, feeling sick. “I can’t hurt someone like that.”

             
“Callie, you have to,” Shay said harshly. “If he wakes now, we are helpless. Do you understand what that means? He will kill us instantly.”

             
“But—“

             
“If he wakes now,” Shay continued, her voice becoming ominous, “then he will move on to the rest of the forest. He will have no choice but to launch an immediate attack in order to maintain the element of surprise he possesses. Hundreds will die if you don’t prevent this.”

             
“But Serena is getting help,” Callie said desperately. “They’ll be back soon.”

             
“Look at his neck,” Shay hissed. “It is already yellowing. There is no
time
for us to wait for help. You must do this, Callie.”

             
“Shay,” Callie begged.

             
Shay took a deep breath. “I know what you think he is. But he is not the man who saved you that day on the island. He is the man who was about to kill you the night he brought you here. He is not a person, nor an innocent bystander. He is a murderer. This will not kill him, Callie. But it will buy us some time.”

             
Callie stood still for a short time, unable to feel her legs. But Shay was right. She wasn’t going to kill him. She was going to prevent him from attacking everyone else. She closed her eyes again and thought about the faces she’d seen on the beach, all the people who had dedicated their lives to saving others. She didn’t know them. They were strangers to her. But they were still people, and, from what she’d heard, they were
good
people. And, keeping that image in mind, she struck the match and turned, holding it out, over his body….

             
Before she could drop it, however, there was a muted snapping sound, and then Emeric’s eyes darted up to Callie’s face, and suddenly he flew up and grasped her by the throat, knocking her to the ground and gripping her with impermeable force, the tips of his fingers digging into her flesh.