Dark Star (15 page)

“Like a force field.”

She blinked at me. “In a sense.”

“Gram said—” I thought back. The power that lives in you, she’d said. “Gram said the Astral Circle was a part of us.”

“More of Angela’s stories? I suppose she did try to prepare you, in her own way.” Esther inclined her head. “Our remaining knowledge of the Old Race is limited. We don’t know precisely how they created the Circles, but we suspect it was connected, in some way, to their blood. We know the power that runs through the Circles is the same power that courses through our veins. And that is why we sense them. Blood calls to blood.”

I considered this, remembering the way I had first felt the Circle, the hum in my skin, the warmth pulsing through me. “That’s a little creepy. But neat. I think.”

She gave me a stern look. “It’s of considerably greater significance than that. When the Astral Circle’s power is full, only the strongest of Harrowers are able to move through it. It keeps the threat contained, keeps our people safe.”

“And our Circle is broken.”

“Not broken, precisely. Diminished. It was severely damaged during the Harrowing seventeen years ago. Its energy is nearly spent. Far too many Harrowers are able to push through it, and their numbers have grown at an alarming rate.”

“So, it’s a force field that’s running low on batteries.” I chewed my lip. “And if it were destroyed?”

Esther wasn’t one to sugarcoat things. “The Harrowers would pass through unchecked.”

Not a thought I wanted to entertain. I shuddered. “But,” she told me. “That’s why there are Guardians. We protect what the Circle cannot.”

Guardian, she explained, was both a specific and a general term. Most Kin who were called as Guardians weren’t meant to protect any one thing, but used their powers to fight—and to shield anyone in need. It was an act of devotion, a bond between Guardian and the world. Some Guardians were called with a particular purpose, though it was rarer. Only when the need was great, she said. Or the danger.

And then there was my mother.

“There’s never been anyone else quite like Lucy,” she said. “Her power was like nothing we’d seen before. She was a herald of change, a symbol of hope. And of fear. We knew when she was called that there would be a Harrowing, and that she would be the one to end it. It’s what she was born to do. No matter how she fought against it.”

That part took me by surprise. We’d lived away from the Cities for years, but it had never occurred to me that my mother hadn’t wanted to be a Guardian.

That once, perhaps, she had wanted to be something other than Morning Star.

“The key to defending yourself against a Harrower is to make yourself an unlikely target.

If you fight back hard enough, they usually give up. Go for the throat, always.” Mom lifted two fingers to her neck, pressing against the notch above her collarbone. I nodded, following her movement.

It had taken a few days of pestering, but after school on Thursday, Mom brought me to the room in the basement that doubled as her office and training area. I wasn’t allowed here often, and since Mom usually kept the door locked, I’d taken to calling it Bluebeard’s Chamber. I was always a little disappointed to discover it mostly held exercise equipment and spare hoodies, no hidden cache of weapons or severed heads. A desk and a filing cabinet sat at the far end, and a few folders with the H&H Security logo were arranged nearby. Closer to the door were Mom’s punching bag and treadmill, and a blue exercise mat lay beneath us.

“The goal is to disable,” she said. “That’s all you need to do— disable and run. Are you following?”

“Disable and run,” I repeated, giving her a little salute from my position on the floor. “But … doesn’t that leave them a little too alive?”

“I’m teaching you to defend yourself, not go on a killing spree.”

“Dead Harrowers are less likely to hurt me,” I pointed out. “And I already know self-defense.”

“You know self-defense against humans,” she said. “Harrowers are different. They’re more powerful than you. They’re faster, they’re stronger, and they heal quickly. Your best chance is to land a blow here”—she tapped her throat again—“and get the hell out of there.”

“It still seems like a better idea to kill them.”

“Remember to stay focused,” Mom continued, ignoring my remark. “Harrowers rely on your fear of them, and fear can be hypnotic. Don’t let them distract you. Stay in control.”

I sighed, pulling my knees up against me. “Isn’t there some way to … I don’t know, repel them?”

Mom gave me a curious look. “What did you have in mind?”

“Sunlight? Garlic? Silver bullets? Salt? Or, you know, a gun?”

“I’m not letting you near firearms.”

“Why not?”

“Do I need a reason to not want my teenage daughter running around with a concealed weapon? The point of this exercise is to put you in less danger.” She paused, frowning. “Generally, guns aren’t much use against Harrowers. You’d need to be incredibly quick, and you’d need perfect aim.”

“So…that’sano?”

“And this is why I’m not teaching her,” Leon said from somewhere behind us.

I jerked in surprise. “You know it’s creepy when you just appear without announcing it, right?”

“I took the stairs. Not my fault you didn’t hear me,” he said, walking into the room. He’d been quieter than usual the past week. We’d barely spoken since the night he took me to meet Esther, and I hadn’t seen him around the house. If not for the half-eaten bowls of cereal he left in the sink, I might have assumed he’d moved out.

He handed Mom her H&H pager. She glanced at it briefly and said, “Well, hell. I’ve gotta go. Could you finish up here?”

I turned to Leon. Neither of us spoke as Mom hurried up the stairs. He wasn’t quite looking at me, and a knot had worked its way into his forehead. Above us, the front door slammed shut. “It’s okay,” I said, standing. “I can wait until Mom has more time.”

Leon sighed. He walked over to Mom’s desk, tapping his fingers against it. “She’s not going to have more time. Let’s just get on with this.”

“Not if you’re going to be grumpy about it.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You do an impressive imitation, then.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward, which I took as a good sign. “Does this mean you’re planning to be helpful?”

He folded his arms, leaning back against the desk, and tilted his head as he looked at me. “Lucy covered the basics. What more do you want to know?”

How to stop being scared, I thought.

“How do we kill them?” I asked.

Leon shrugged. “How do you kill anything? Cut off its head. Stab it through the heart. Break its neck. Bleed it to death.”

I blinked. “Well. That’s … um, gruesome.”

“You asked. What did you expect me to say?”

“With kindness?”

Apparently, that was the wrong response. Leon’s eyebrows snapped together. “I’m glad you’ve overcome your fear enough to make light of the situation,” he said, suddenly stern. He kept his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed, doing his best to look grim and foreboding. “You really want to know how to kill? Have you ever killed anything that isn’t an insect?”

“Like what, small fuzzy animals? No, because I’m not actually a serial killer in training.” I’d hit a deer with Mom’s car last spring, but I didn’t think that counted, especially since I’d cried for an hour afterward. But a demon? That would be different. “And you can’t tell me you go around cutting off heads. You’re just trying to freak me out. Also, ew.” I gave him a critical look. His shirt was white and crisp, freshly ironed. I’d seen blood on his clothing before, but it was always his own. “How do you kill them?”

The frown disappeared. His expression was carefully blank. “Guardians have resources. We always have our best weapon with us. Our powers nullify theirs. And—Lucy would prefer to keep you out of Guardian business.”

Which meant he wasn’t going to tell me anything. Good-littlesidekick Leon would never dream of disobeying.

“So, that’s it. Being a Guardian is some sort of special club, and I don’t know the secret handshake?” I groaned in frustration. “But what if I’m called? Shouldn’t I be ready?” That had been bothering me since my last session with Esther, when she’d told me how Guardians were called. Until then, I’d always believed Mom and Leon had simply been born with their powers, the way I’d been born with my Knowing. Now …

Now, Leon wasn’t even looking at me. “You won’t be called,” he said, facing the wall.

“I could be,” I argued. “Esther says it doesn’t usually happen until the late teens. And Mom was called, and she’s only halfblooded.” Esther had told me that, too: Mom’s father, Jacky, hadn’t been Kin.

“It’s not determined by your parentage,” Leon said. “It just happens.”

“Exactly.” According to Esther, no one knew what triggered the calling, only that it seemed to be a sort of biological response to the Harrower threat. “You can’t say I won’t be called—unless you understand the grand scheme of the universe.” In which case, I really would have to start calling him Almighty Leon.

He turned to stare at me. “You want to be a Guardian.” Not a question. Pure disbelief.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated—but that was when I thought it meant being a hero, saving the city, helping the helpless. Now, I wasn’t certain what to feel. On the one hand, it meant power and excitement and purpose. On the other hand: demons. Fighting them. Killing them. Despite my bravado, I wasn’t at all certain I could handle that.

I looked at Leon again, studying him. He had a particular way of standing, an ease and confidence in the way he moved. I wondered if that was a Guardian thing, or just him. “Did you want to?”

Instead of answering my question, he said, “A week ago you wouldn’t leave your bedroom, and now you want to face demons.”

“I don’t want to face them,” I said, heat creeping up my cheeks. I wasn’t about to tell him how frightened I still was. “But they’re out there, and I want to be prepared. I’m Kin, so I’m a target; isn’t that how it goes? I may as well fight. I’m not helpless. I’ve been in martial arts since I was eight.”

“To defend yourself,” Leon said.

“Which I failed at, in case you forgot. It was horrible, and I don’t want it to happen again.”

“It won’t happen again.” His voice was soft.

“No?” My hands clenched into fists. I hated how easily he could dismiss my words. “I’m not actually stupid, Leon. I know something is going on, something big. It’s why you moved in, right? Why Mom is so cryptic and moody and the two of you go silent whenever I enter the room. I don’t want to be kept in the dark anymore. I want to be taught. I want to be trained.”

A look of alarm, brief and anxious, flickered across his face. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “Physically, most humans—even Kin—are no match for Harrowers. Guardians are stronger. We’re meant to fight, and it’s still not easy for us. It’s not fun, and it’s not safe. People get hurt. People die.”

People like his parents.

Leon had a right to his concern, but considering how much effort he’d expended trying to reassure me only a week ago, his words rang a little hollow. “Aren’t you the one who told me not to worry? That I don’t need to be scared? We’re out there, you said. So it’s all right for you, but not for me? You go out and fight, while I sit around hoping I don’t get attacked?”

“That’s what Guardians do. We protect the rest of the Kin.”

“Just because I haven’t been called doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

“That’s exactly what it means.” Before I could blink, he was standing before me, so close it was uncomfortable. I threw a hand up to push him away, and he caught my wrist. His eyes burned down on me. “Wanting to be a Guardian doesn’t make you one. It’s not all about training, or skill. It’s about strength, and speed, and endurance. Humans are fragile. Harrowers aren’t.”

His attitude provoked me. Even if I wasn’t a Guardian, I wasn’t defenseless. I’d taken down bigger adversaries than him. I decided to show him just how fragile I wasn’t.

I circled my wrist under, breaking his grip. It would be immensely satisfying to send him to the floor, I thought. I took hold of his arms, turning him for the throw as I did a foot sweep.

Leon reacted faster than I anticipated.

He lifted one of his feet, hooking it around mine, and grabbed my shoulders, dragging me down with him. I tried to twist away, to keep myself from falling, but his grip was firm. When he hit the floor, I landed directly on top of him.

My eyes met his. For a split second, neither of us moved. His expression held a fleeting hint of surprise.

“Not bad,” he said.

I pushed away and jumped to my feet. Leon was quick to follow.

Hoping to catch him off guard, I went on the offensive. I didn’t plan to hurt him—just bruise his ego a little. Knowing he’d have no choice but to block it, I aimed a blow high, intending to follow up with a punch to his stomach. Knocking the wind out of him would be a suitable lesson.

Again he was ready for it. He didn’t block my fist; he caught it, moving backward to dodge my second punch. Before I could pull out of his grip, he jerked me forward and spun me, putting me into a hold with my back tucked against him.

“But not nearly good enough,” he whispered into my ear.

I wasn’t about to concede defeat. I dropped my weight, ducking out of his arms. On one knee, I spun around and lunged for his leg, pulling it out from beneath him. So much for his boasts of Guardians and their abilities. Down he went.

Or rather, down he started. He didn’t hit the ground. He didn’t hit anything. He was just—gone.

It took me only a second to realize what had happened. The little cheater had teleported himself away, presumably to land some place comfortable. Like his bed.

With a growl of outrage, I hopped to my feet and headed for the door, intending to tell him exactly what I thought of such a maneuver.

I’d only taken half a step when my arm was jerked behind me. I didn’t have time to fight back before I found myself lowered face-first to the floor, with a close-up view of the exercise mat—and Leon’s shoes.

Seething, I pushed myself upward with my hands and glared at him. “You don’t fight fair.”