Vendetta

  "Joshua, get her something for the headache," Mara instructs. "Something to drink. Are you hungry?" she asks me.

  My stomach lurches, heavy and twisted. I shake my head. "I can't." I can't even think about food right now.

  Mara leans against the couch cushions, legs tucked beneath her. Joshua moves through the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors. Seth sits at the kitchen table, face buried in his hands, rubbing his eyes. I try to feel something from him. Anything. But my throat is dry and blocked and a raw ache throbs with every erratic beat of my heart. He lifts his head and our eyes meet. They're red around the rims, shadowed with insomnia, slicing into me, frozen and tormented. As if he, too, suddenly feels the gravity of what's transpired. It sucks the air straight out of my lungs.

  Everything inside me wants to go to him, to tell him it's okay. I'm okay.

  I jerk to attention, spine stiffening at the sound of knocking. And even though I know Mike is done, that he's gone forever, I'm afraid. I'm afraid the police have come for me or Seth. That my mom somehow knows what happened. I'm afraid because, at this point, my mom and the police and Mike are the least of my problems.

  "Genesis?" Carter's voice drifts through the door, muffled.

  "Let him in," Mara tells Joshua.

  Joshua unlocks the deadbolt and Carter moves into the room. "Hey. I saw Josh pull up in your car and. . . ." At the sight of us he stops short, eyeing everyone carefully, his scrutinizing gaze pressing into each one of us. Because it's easy to tell when something's going on in this house, something thick and burdensome, hovering, unspoken.

  "What is it?" he asks, hesitating.

  His stare burns straight through me. Our eyes connect, but I can't explain. I don't even want to say it. I can't. Carter looks to Seth, who refuses to meet anyone's gaze.

  Joshua clears his throat, glancing between us.

  "What is going on?" Carter repeats, insistent.

  Beside me, Mara exhales a quiet sigh. "It was Mike," she says.

  "Mike? Your Mom's boyfriend?"

  A shiver rolls across my skin. My eyes squeeze shut. Every time I hear his name . . . see his face. . . .

  "He tried to. . . . He attacked her this afternoon," Mara explains.

  "Who? Your mom?" Carter asks, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

  Don't make me say it.

  "No. . . . Me."

  "Attacked, as in. . . ." He trails off, unable to finish, to say the word. "What the f—" He drags his fingers through his hair, pulling at it. Expression growing hard. "Shit! Are you okay?"

  I swallow hard, closing my eyes, and nod. "Yeah, I'm fine."

  Carter turns to Seth. "Where the hell were you?"

  "Carter, don't," I plead.

  "No! I want to know why he wasn't watching you. Where were you?" he asks again.

  "He was right there," I say. "In two seconds. He stopped him."

  But Carter isn't listening. He moves closer to Seth, eyes flashing. "Why is it that every time I leave her alone with you something bad happens? You're supposed to guard her, to keep her safe, and you can't even do that right!"

  Seth doesn't move, doesn't speak, still refusing to lift his eyes from the floor.

  "Talk to me, dammit!" Carter's voice grows louder, more agitated.

  When Seth doesn't respond, Carter snaps, lunging for him, slamming his clenched fist into his jaw. The crack echoes clear across the room.

  "No! Carter!"

  Seth jumps from the table, shoving Carter in the chest. Carter stumbles backward.

  "What the hell kind of a Guardian are you if you aren't around long enough to protect her when shit like this happens?" He asks, righting himself, speaking through clenched teeth.

  "He was there!" I insist. "It would've been worse . . ."

  "Because if she was my responsibility I wouldn't leave her side," Carter goes on, ignoring me. "Ever."

  "Look," Joshua says, eyes hard. "You don't even know . . ."

  "Joshua," Mara interrupts, shaking her head. He shrinks back, shoulders falling in exhale, folding his arms across his chest.

  "Carter, please," I beg. "It's over. Mike is dead."

  Carter stops, gazes at me. "What?"

  "Mike. Seth . . . killed him, for what he did. Tried to do. And you know, I don't even think it was Mike. I mean, it was him, but it wasn't him," I explain. "There was something in his voice. When he was. . . . It didn't sound like him. And he said. . . ." I stop there, trying to remember. "He said 'you should have been more careful.'" Another pause. "It was almost as if . . ."

  "He was possessed," Joshua finishes for me.

  Seth stands motionless at the other end of the room, leaning against the wall. Hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes vacant. Lost in thought. "Viola is behind this," he confirms.

  "Viola. Demon Viola?" Carter asks. "That’s just awesome. Great. So, what are we gonna do now?"

  "We aren't going to do anything. This is my fight."

  "The hell it is," he snaps. "This isn't your fight. You didn't ask for any of this!"

  "But I've accepted it."

  "You agreed to help the Guardians whenever you had a vision. You didn't ask to become the target of some supernatural psychopath!"

  "I knew there was a possibility they would find out," I remind him. "And I knew that would put me in danger."

  "But it doesn't have to be like this," he says, voice rising. "Let me help you, Gee. Let me get you out of here."

  "That's not happening," Joshua says.

  "I'm better for her than you are." Carter eyes Seth, as if the words came from his mouth instead of Joshua's.

  "She's too good for you," Seth replies, voice low.

  "She's too good for either of us," Carter tosses back. "But I'm the better choice. You screwed up everything the second you came into her life. She's fighting demons? Running from evil every single day?"

  "It's her choice," Seth murmurs. "It was always her choice."

  "She did not choose this! You . . . you Guardians were getting along fine without her. You did not need her. You pulled her into this. And if she keeps hanging around you she's going to get herself killed. And for what?"

  A flare of resentment, anger, and Seth moves closer, nose stopping inches from Carter's. "You think I don't tell myself that every single day? You're right. She would be better off without me. This isn't something I ever wanted to happen."

  Carter's shoulders square. He stands taller. "Well it did. And instead of doing something about it, you're dragging her deeper into this shit. She's not going to get out of it. This ends when she dies."

  "What do you want me to do?" Seth asks, the fury escalating.

  "Leave." Carter steps back, glancing around the room. At Mara. Joshua. Back to Seth. "All of you. Let her go back to the way things were."

  "No," I interrupt.

  "Let me take her somewhere else," Carter continues. "You know I can take care of her. She can start over in a new town. Away from all of this."

  "It isn't up to me," Seth says, voice calmer. "As much as I loathe you, you're right. She would be better off without me. I've told her as much. But this is her choice, not mine. I'm here until she doesn't want me anymore."

  "I love how the two of you can carry on complete conversations about me like I'm not even here," I say.

  "Regardless. It's too late," Mara says. "The Council is watching. The Diabols know. . . . Running isn't necessarily the best idea. They'll eventually find her."

  "What I still don't get," Carter says, turning to me, "is why you?"

  "I don't know," I whisper.

  "I still believe it's a power struggle," Mara explains. "Genesis has the ability to see things, and even we don't know the full extent of what she's capable. She's agreed to help the Guardians, but that doesn't mean the Diabols wouldn't appreciate having her on their side."

  "So you don't think these Diabols—whatever they are—want her dead?" Carter asks.

  Her expression softens. "I don't know what they want. If I did it
would make my job less complicated. I do believe if they only wanted her dead, she would be dead by now. It's something else. Something we're not seeing. And the best we can do is protect her until we're certain of Viola's intentions, or she's put in a place where she can be eliminated."

  Carter sighs, emitting a deep exhale, quietly resigning himself to the idea that I am both hunter and hunted, and there's nothing he can do about it. "Well, you're doing a shitty job," he says, tossing a withering glance in Seth's direction.

  * * *

  At the first signs of exhaustion, Seth demands that everyone leave. Carter walks the one hundred or so steps back to his house. Joshua and Mara disappear. Earlier I couldn't imagine ever sleeping again, but a wave of fatigue finally rolled in.

  I crawl into bed with him and he curls up next to me, wrapping me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in. The pine. His salty, seawater smell. Comfort personified.

  "I'm sorry," he whispers. But I don't know what he's sorry for. That it happened. That he killed Mike. All of it.

  "Tell me a story," I say, eyes closing.

  "What kind of story?"

  I shrug. "A happy story."

  "I only know one worth telling."

  "That's okay."

  He clears his throat and swallows hard, muscles tightening as he grips me tighter. "Okay. . . . Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl. She moved around a lot because of her mom."

  My heart constricts. My mom. Gone. Again. Without even saying goodbye.

  "She seemed angry. Angry and sad. Someone was watching her, though. From the shadows. She fascinated him, and he searched for excuses to be part of her world. During the restaurant's busiest hours. Mingling with the crowd at the beach. He was always careful not to get too close. Then she started dating this loser . . ."

  "Seth," I whine, feeling a smile pulling at my lips.

  "Okay, not a total loser, but definitely not good enough for this girl. He was surface. Predictable. She was deep, introspective, smart. She was mysterious. She had . . . secrets. But as jealous as he was, he couldn't interfere. Until one night there was an argument, and then an accident."

  I take in a long, fluid breath, listening. Remembering that night.

  "The SUV was totaled, and she was trapped. He panicked, convinced she'd been taken from him. He'd fallen in love with her, and this was his punishment. But the Angel of Death never came."

  "Angel of Death? What does he do?" I interrupt.

  "It's not one angel, it's many. But they act as one entity. Anyone who dies first meets an Angel of Death. They're Messengers. They make sure you cross safely to the other side—to whichever side you deserve. Are you going to let me finish this story?"

  I smile.

  "Anyway, he managed to send for help and pry the door open. She was hurt, so he sat beside her . . . brushed her hair from her eyes . . . took her hand in his and held it and promised her everything was going to be okay. That he would make it okay. He tried to distance himself after that. He told himself it was nothing. But then he picked her up, held her in his arms for the first time, and it was over. He wanted her to see him. To know who he was. At first she thought he was a ghost, which really offended him."

  I laugh. "You were following me around. Showing up in random places. No one else could see you. What was I supposed to think?"

  "Who said this story is about you?" he asks, the smile in his voice teasing.

  He runs his fingers through my hair, tucking it behind my ears. "I tried to stay away," he says, voice softening. "I should have. I wanted to. But then, there was this one night. She looked . . . absolutely beautiful. I watched her, trying to stay hidden, but I hated that she was shadowed. I wanted to be there. With her. And then that wasn't enough. And then I danced with her, but that wasn't enough, either. After that, I was hers. . . ."

  He stops. The happiest part of this story, I know, ends here, with this. There have been happy moments since then, but nothing as real and as perfect as that night. Because then the visions . . . and the Guardians . . . and Arsen and Viola. . . .

  "When you left—when I decided to help the Guardians—where did you go?"

  "Nowhere, really. I couldn't leave. They weren't ready to reassign me. I just . . . hovered. Wandered. Helped other Guardians. It was hard, trying to keep away from you. From the Guardians talking about you. And then. . . . I could feel you. I could hear you call me. Like you were right there. I came back the second I knew you were in trouble. It wasn't worth it, being away from you."

  He's sad again, and I realize how horrible it must be, watching someone you care about do everything she possibly can to keep herself in danger. How fragile the line is between life and loss. How one moment changes everything.

  "So what happens next?" I ask him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "In your story. What happens next?"

  "I don't know," he says, eyes searching mine.

  "In a perfect world, how does this story end?"

  "In a perfect world, we're together. There are no rules. Nothing can come between us. We're safe."

  "Safe," I repeat.

  Safe doesn't exist anymore.

  "Until then, I'll do everything I can to make sure nothing takes her away from me."

  Even conceal a murder.

  Take my place.

  It's a beautiful story. Beautiful irony. The one person I want more than anything in this world can never be mine. I nestle closer, letting him hold me, focusing on the sound of our hearts beating together. Then I close my eyes and imagine some far and away version of Seth and me. Together, protected, happy.

  For the first time in weeks, I have no dream.

  SEVENTEEN

  Mara grabs a Sharpie marker from the kitchen drawer and draws a circle around Seth's hip on the outline of my latest practice board. "This represents lust." She circles the thigh. "This is resentment." She circles the knee, the ankle, the stomach, and the heart. "The throat you already know is malice, or hatred. The knee equates to jealousy, the ankle selfishness, the heart disappointment, and the stomach represents emotions or feelings."

  She steps back, moving away from the board, examining it carefully. "There are others, but these are the most important. Demons will be driven by one of these seven things. Your older demons will be driven by the most negative of these: resentment, jealousy, malice. Your younger demons are driven most by their emotions: love, disappointment, selfishness, lust."

  "Arsen was a newer demon, then?" I ask.

  "If he was driven by his feelings for you, then yes. All Diabols are malicious at their core, but the older the demon the fewer the redeeming qualities," Mara replies.

  "How do you know if they're young or old?"

  "The older the Diabol the more beautiful he or she is. The more powerful. The more enticing."

  "When Seth pulled me into your realm—the first time, I mean—I felt drawn to the Diabol, through his voice."

  "They're like Sirens in that way. It's best not to listen." Her brow creases with unease. "It was dangerous for Seth to take you there. I understand why he did. He can protect you better in our realm, but there's also a greater risk because that's where the demons have the most authority." She steps away from me, moving backward. "Start throwing. Aim for these key points."

  Seth is gone. He isn't far, but out of sight, exchanging information with the others. Joshua is with him. It's just me and Mara, and since it's not often we're alone like this, I use the opportunity to ask her about him. To find answers to the questions plaguing me for months.

  "How long have you known Seth, anyway?" I ask her, raising my knife, aiming for the thigh.

  "A while."

  "So you remember . . . everything. The beginning of time, I mean."

  "I remember clearly back to the fall of one-third of the angels in Heaven. The beginning of human history. The fall of man."

  I throw the knife. A rotation and a half, and it hits the target.

  "Seth doesn't r
emember anything before me," I tell her, aiming for the heart. "Why is that?" I throw the next knife. It hits square in the center of the outline's chest.

  "I wouldn't know."

  "But typically Guardians do remember, right?"

  "You shouldn't concern yourself with the rules that bind the Guardians," she says tersely.

  I eye my next target. "This isn't about the Guardians. This is about Seth. What do you remember about him? Before me?"

  "We don't always travel in the same circles, Genesis. You don't understand how many millions of us there are."

  The knife hits the board. Perfect. I spin around on my heel, facing her. "When you arrived you acted like you knew each other. That you go way back. What's the first thing you remember about him?"

  Mara's hair falls loosely from her ponytail. She exhales, studying the floor, thinking. "The conversations with the Council. Then the first time we met was. . . ." She shakes her head, eyes meeting mine, restrained.

  "In my living room?" I finish.

  "It's not unusual for Guardians to go hundreds of years without seeing one another. It's a massive planet, and there are billions of people on it," she says, a note of frustration coloring her tone.

  "You told Seth it was good to see him," I remind her. "He knew who you were. Everything about you. You knew him. . . ."

  Her eyes harden. "There's not a single Guardian unfamiliar with me."

  "What about James? Carter's Guardian. Do you remember him?"

  She smiles at the mention of James, expression softening. "We go back to what humans call the Dark Ages. Near the fall of Constantinople. He was guarding a servant of Sultan Mehmed II."

  "That's like, more than five hundred years. What about Joshua?"