Vendetta (22 page)

"I wasn't trying . . ."

"She'll do whatever she can, Genesis," he says, and I know he means Viola. "Whatever it takes. She will find your
weakness. She will root there and she will seep into every fiber of your being."

I open my mouth to speak, to promise I will never let that happen. To swear she will never have that kind of control over me. That I can be stronger. That I
will
be stronger
.

"I'm losing," he whispers, expression softening. "And the only thing I've
ever
wanted . . ."

His eyes break, drifting from mine, and I turn slowly, following his gaze. Mara is there, standing behind us. Still. Silent. The hair too short for her braid f
alls in wisps around her face, dark eyes like stone, the weight of her stare burning into us.

Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

A tremor slides along my spine.

Seth feels it, too. "What is it?" he asks.

She studies us for a moment, gaze lingering on Seth
. And then me. She opens her mouth to speak, but can't seem to find the words. Her eyes squeeze shut. I've never seen Mara this level of speechless before. It frightens me.

"Please, Mara. You can tell us," I say.

Her eyes open, fixing on mine, steady. A de
ep inhale, and then: "The Guardians are withdrawing their protection."

A dark chill ripples across my skin, and my pulse stutters.

Seth moves away from me. "What? Why?" he demands to know.

"She knows too much. She's a liability."

"But you said. . . ."

An
d I remember their conversation about the Council. How they would never let me go, not as long as I could be used.

I'm not needed anymore. I'm not wanted. Unnecessary.

His face pales, shock etching into each of his features. "They can't do that," he says
. "They can't withdraw their protection. That leaves her vulnerable!"

I force back the swell knotting my throat. My breaths run short and shallow, lungs refusing to fill. If the Guardians abandon me, I'm fair game. Five minutes alone with Viola, or any
Dia
bol
for that matter, and I'm finished. "What can I do?" I ask, wrestling with the words.

"Nothing. It's already decided."

"There
has
to be something we can do, Mara. Something we can say." Seth's voice rises with every word.

"It wouldn't help."

He speaks q
uickly, insistent. "I don't understand. If Genesis really did foreshadow an uprising, then we need her now more than ever!"

"I don't know, Seth! It doesn't make any sense!"  Her voice is shrill, unhinged, and I stand frozen for a moment watching her, this
new Mara. The Guardian-Warrior, master of her emotions, has vanished, leaving behind a reflection of someone else entirely. Someone bewildered, agitated, overwhelmed. Someone like me. 

I swallow back the slow wave of nausea rolling in, desperate to crawl
out of this nightmare.

They're going to leave me unprotected, at Viola's mercy. They're going to take Seth away from me.

"Let me go to them. I can talk to them," I tell her.

"You've no idea the kind of power the Council has," Mara says. "
If they're withdrawing protection, they're leaving you to die. Go to them, and they’ll finish the job themselves. This isn't only dangerous for you. It's dangerous for Seth, too. Joshua. All of us."

"I should be allowed to defend myself!"

"That's not how t
he Council works!"

My skin prickles with hopelessness, and I fight to control myself, to keep my voice steady. "What kind of council is this?" I ask. "You guys are Guardians. You're angels. Heavenly doers of good. And now you're telling me this angel counc
il would rather kill me themselves than let me walk away?"

"They've done worse," Mara says.

Disbelief and uncertainty cloud my vision, blurring the in-between. "It's not supposed to be this way! You're the good guys!"

"Maybe there are no good guys, Genesi
s," she replies.

"Then what the hell is the
point
? Why did I go through all of this? They
asked me
to help them! They can't turn their backs on me!"

She exhales a long, defeated sigh. "They already have. They're demanding we leave." This she says directly
to Seth.

"No. I'm not leaving her. They'll have to drag me away." The words are spoken through clenched teeth. Spiteful and provoking.

"They will."

"They'll lose," he assures her.

"They won't," she whispers. 

Seth spins back to me. "I'll take you away f
rom here," he says, eyes piercing mine. "We'll go somewhere else. We can hide until this dies down."

"Seth, it's impossible to hide from the Council. You
know
that," Mara says.

"And you're not going rogue," I add. "I won't let you damn your soul because of
me."

Separating from the Guardians condemns Seth to a lifetime of suffering. I can't live out my last days knowing I'm the reason he was cast into Hell for an eternity.

"It doesn't matter. Don't you get it? If the Guardians are withdrawing their protect
ion, I'm not bound to this town. We can leave."

"You're still bound to the Guardians," I remind him. "We can't risk it. I'm not going to."

"It's not a terrible idea, Genesis," Mara says. "You could go somewhere. Maybe . . . if we can create a distraction,
we can get you out without anyone knowing. It would buy us time, at any rate, until we can uncover their motives."

"We?" Seth asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm loyal to the Council, but I will not sacrifice my better judgment until I have more information. So
mething is wrong."

"But I thought no one questions the Council," Seth says, matter of fact.

She studies both of us, eyes darting back and forth. "Maybe it's time we start."

"It's not up to us. We're Guardians. We have no choice."

"We do, Seth," she confes
ses. "We have more choices than you think."

His eyes soften. "It's a death sentence, Mara."

"She's already been sentenced," she replies, referring to me.

"She's
my
responsibility. We'll leave. You don't need to get involved. Whatever my sins, I'll answer f
or them, and I'll die protecting her, but I'm not going to involve you. Or Joshua. Or any of the others."

"I've already decided. And it has nothing to do with you. Or her. Seth, we've been listening to the Council for a long time,"
she says, voice low, as if even now she's afraid they'll hear, rise up against her. "Thousands of years. And no one questions anything they do. Their decisions. Even when we
know
better."

They exchange a look between them. Seth seems to consider her words.

"So, what now?" I ask after a few, quiet beats.

Mara turns to me. "You're not safe here. You're not safe anywhere, actually, but least of all here. You
must
get out."

"I can't risk Seth . . ."

"There are no other options, Genesis," she interrupts. "This
is it. But I don't think we can risk Seth, either." Her eyes flit to him. "I think you should stay behind."

"It doesn't matter anymore," he insists, eyes widening.

"Regardless. They'll know she's with you."

A cold, hard laugh. "I'm not sending her out ther
e alone."

"She's just as vulnerable with you."

A hush falls over us. The seconds pass. Minutes. And even now, glancing around the room, I wonder who's left, what's happening in the shadows. What I can't see. Guardians pulling out.
Diabols
moving in. Watchi
ng. Waiting for that perfect moment.

"Carter," I whisper.

Seth's eyes meet mine, dull and exhausted. But he nods absently, understanding, rubbing the back of his neck. "Get him over here."

I grab the phone from its cradle, fingers shaking, and dial his
cell number. The call goes straight to voicemail.

"Hey, Carter. It's Gee. Please call me as soon as you get this."

Mara peeks through the blinds, peering out the front window. "The driveway's empty. He's not here."

"He'll call back," I assure them. "He nev
er leaves his phone off for long."

The three of us fall into a tense, expected silence as we wait. Mara is faraway. Speculating. Seth's eyes remain vacant. Nervous glances pass back and forth between them, and I wish I knew what they were thinking.

When th
e phone finally rings, I jump off the barstool to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Sorry about that. I was stuck on the golf course with my dad."

Carter.

I breathe a quick sigh of relief. "Oh. Sounds fun."

"About as fun as nine holes of 'you're such a disappoi
ntment you really need to figure out what you're going to do with your life' can possibly be." I'm sure his eyes are rolling on the other end.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so I'm on my way to the house. What's up?"

I swallow hard. "It's complicated. Can you come ov
er?" Now that I have him on the phone, that I know this is really happening, I struggle to remain calm, to conceal the hurt and the uncertainty and the fear. My voice cracks, giving me away.

"Gee, are you okay?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," I confess.

"I'm on my way," he assures me. "Two minutes."

The call ends and I exhale loudly, comforted knowing this isn't something I have to face alone, but concerned for Carter at the same time. I asked for this. He didn't.
Mara stands at the window, watching, until his SUV pulls into the driveway.  

He can say no
, I tell myself.
He has every right not to agree to this.

He's barely crossed the threshold when: "What's going on?" His eyes travel back and forth between us, des
perate for answers.

"We don't know," Mara replies. "The Council is stripping Genesis's protection. There are consequences for anyone choosing to guard her."

A line of doubt creases his forehead. "What? Why would they do that?"

"We don't know."

He considers
this carefully, this threat, the implications. "But if she's not guarded, that means. . . . Jesus Christ," he mutters, running his hands over his face. "So, what do we do?"

"She should leave," Mara says. "As soon as possible. And we think it would be bes
t if you went with her. Seth and I . . . they'll be watching us. Her best chance to get out safely is with you."

Carter's eyes flit to me, and then Seth.

"It's our only option," Seth says, resigned.

A subtle look—an understanding—seems to pass between t
hem.

"I'll do it," he agrees, not hesitating.

My skin prickles with alarm. He doesn't get it. He doesn't know what could happen to him if he agrees. "Carter, if you do this, they might take away your protection, too. We'll both be left unguarded. Easy tar
gets. You don't have to say yes because of me. If you need time to think about it . . ."

"It doesn't matter," he interrupts. "I'm in. Just tell me where and when."

Mara's shoulders visibly relax, and she becomes that warrior again, the one I've grown to k
now over the course of the summer. And I'm eerily comforted by this. If she thinks it will work. . . . "As soon as possible. And wherever you think she'll be safest."

"There's this place in the mountains." He slants a look sideways, as if trying to gauge m
y reaction before continuing. "My family goes there every year. There are rentals. It's pretty secluded. About five hours away."

Five hours. Five hours from the town that's become my home. Five hours away from Seth. I open my mouth to protest.

"Perfect,"
Mara says.

"When do we leave?"

"Immediately."

"No!" I cry, heart reacting, thudding against my ribcage. Three pairs of anxious eyes gravitate toward me."Tomorrow."

"Genesis, there may not
be
a tomorrow," she says.

"Just one more day!" The words come out fa
ster, harsher than I intend. "We can leave in the morning. First thing. As soon as the sun is up. But I
need
tonight."

Seth shakes his head, disagreeing. "It's not safe."