Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (14 page)

“You wanted him to be happy?” Holden’s voice dripped with incredulity. “After all he did to you, all he planned to do—you can still forgive him?”

“We all make mistakes. I could never be involved with him again, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want him to find happiness in his own way. To find some peace in his life, some direction.”

“Simply amazing.” He shook his head.

“What?”

“I didn't realize Pollyanna was based on you.”

His words struck a chord with me. A laugh slipped from my lips, and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. It wasn’t funny, a man had died. I was right to regret that he didn’t honor his life more while he had it. It was just the disbelief in Holden’s voice, combined with his suspiciousness, that made me laugh. For someone so sure of his view of the world, he really didn’t know anything. He didn’t understand the most rudimentary of emotions. But the atmosphere of the truck lightened considerably.

“Was that all that happened?”

 “No, actually I came home tonight and there was a man waiting for me inside.”

“What?” All the newfound lightness slipped away as quickly as it appeared. Holden stared at me as if one of my eyes had popped out.

“It’s okay. He wasn’t there to hurt me. I think he's a friend.”

“Do you know this man?” he asked, clipping his words, a frown creasing his face.

“Not really. I've seen him twice. He told me he'd been following me—”

Holden eyes narrowed dangerously. He looked like he wanted to shake me. “Really,” he growled.

“If you’d just let me talk, this would be much quicker.”

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth.

I highlighted my encounters with Quintus for Holden leaving out his adorable dimples and warm brown eyes. “I know I should be more upset about his breaking in—but there’s something about him. Something good. I don’t know—” I broke off speaking when I noticed blood trickling from Holden’s tightly clenched fist. I took his hand and slowly uncurled his fingers, so I could see the damage. I used a clean corner of the towel on the seat to wipe the blood away.

His nails had dug deeply into his skin. The wounds looked angry. In fact, everything about him radiated anger.

I tore off the end of my shirt, tied around his hand, finishing the knot with the comment, “There and a kiss to make it better.” I bent my head to kiss his wounded hand when he yanked it away from me.

“Are you insane?” he said, his voice shaking with rage. He sounded close to shouting, but was able to control himself just enough not to. “You let strangers into your house. You go to sleep with them still in the house! You forgive people who have no business being forgiven. You trespass in my mind. You completely ignore the fact that I have been stalking you! You seem to have no real problem with people following you as general rule. Does it not bother you that in two days, two men confess to stalking you? Has it not occurred to you that you could have been killed countless times in the last two days? Do you care nothing for your life? Frankly, I'm amazed you have survived this long.”

As silly as it was, I was more hurt by his rejection of my kiss than his perfectly reasonable—if somewhat harsh—words. I tried not to let the sting of the rejection show on my face, but I couldn’t fight back with righteous indignation because he was absolutely correct. I’d let a lot of alarming things slide for no better reason than I felt like they shouldn’t be a big deal. My instincts told me to wait and see what happened, so I’d completely given up on my own better judgment.

“You’re right. I should be more careful.”

“I’m right? I’m right?” He gestured wildly. “Of course I’m right, Hell, I bet you didn’t even call the police after I left your mother’s house. If you had any idea . . . You should stay as far away from me as possible, though it’s probably too late.”

What was his problem? I’d freaking agreed with him and now he was mad about that too?

“Holden,” I said, using the soft, thoughtful tone I adopted earlier. I wanted to touch him, but was afraid he’d pull away. I needed him to calm down a little. “I appreciate your concern and how you’ve defended me. We don’t really know each other, however, I'm fairly certain you're supposed to be here. I can’t explain it, but I feel it. I need you to stay. Let me trespass a little bit longer in your life until I figure it all out. There's a point, a bigger picture, something we're not seeing. . . .”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not. I just trust my intuition.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“That’s possible.” I sighed and fidgeted. “I know what I want though. Will you give it to me?”

 “What?” his stony mask had melted away, leaving a man who was painfully uncertain of the path he found himself travelling.

“Let me figure out why all of this is happening.”

Holden took my hands in his and kissed my palms. “I can’t,” he said, and as he stared into my eyes, the whites of his eyes turned blood red, making his cool green irises sparkle eerily.

My eyes opened. Despite the strange ending to the dream I tried to force myself back into the smelly truck with Holden, but it was no use—I was awake and well rested. I covered my face with my hands for a brief moment and assessed how I was feeling this morning. There was still a lingering sadness, but all in all I felt better. I didn’t know if it was the sleep, the break down I had with Quintus, or if it was what Holden told me in my dream, which I remembered with a remarkable clarity.

I was more than curious about the dreams now. Could I trust them? How much of what I saw and heard was made up and how much was real? It helped that Holden was real and that he knew about the dreams—at least that much wasn’t just in my head. I wished I had more answers though. I had so many pieces to the puzzle, but none of them fit together yet. Could Holden and Quintus really be unconnected? What were the odds of two unconnected men suddenly taking up with me in the same week? And on top of that, how did Holden know so much about Christopher? Did he figure in some way? If he did, what kind of situation have I gotten myself into?

Ten

I opened my eyes. Blinking, I looked around my room and collected my thoughts. The trip to Olivia’s mind made her slightly clearer to me. I better understood what it was like for her in my subconscious. As unsettling as it was to have someone roaming around in my head, it was even more disturbing and confusing to have been the one in someone else’s. All of her emotions were so much more raw and tactile, like invisible landmines floating in the air.

Worry that
they
knew of my failure with her stabbed and twisted inside of me. Secrecy was always the primary objective. Humans were never just allowed to know of us. It was the law of the Abyss. Management would see to it that something was done with her, and me, if I couldn’t handle it. They could have been the ones in her apartment. Why would they put her to sleep? Why not just kill her? It didn’t make sense. I’d never heard of this Quintus person, but someone lying to her about his name wasn’t out of the question. Olivia’s subconscious showed me that underneath her jaded veneer and all of her questions, she was as trusting as a child. She truly believed in the good in people. I wanted to go make sure no one even breathed in her general direction. I would do things to them if they touched her—scatter their bodies across the world. They couldn’t even begin to imagine the hell that would rain down upon them—even if they were only doing the job I failed to do. Olivia was my mess. She was no one else’s problem. If I went to her apartment and they were there, however, I would be dispatched of as well. Torn with the need to see her safe and my own desire to survive, I stayed in limbo. I wanted to see her. I needed to know she was okay, but what if just the mere action of seeing her again risked her life further by drawing attention? What if someone noticed? I’d never thought or cared about how much they watched me. Now it was all I could think about. If I didn’t take care of her soon, they’d surely send someone—if they hadn’t already—and take care of us both.

I could leave. Move to another city—out of sight out of mind. I shook my head and paced the floor some more. No, I couldn’t do it. Not only because it would raise suspicion. Not because it would be annoying to have to set up a new life somewhere else. No, my problem was that Olivia asked me to stay, and that was exactly what I intended on doing despite my telling her no. Against my better judgment, I was in this. The situation couldn’t end other than badly. If or how I would find the will to kill the one person who made me feel remotely human was becoming less and less important to me as she charged through all the boundaries I spent years building. This woman would be the death of me.

I rubbed a hand over my face. There was no way this could work. I couldn’t have her. I couldn’t leave her. At least if I killed her, I would have her with me in the ghost town of my victims. I carried each of them with me. A reminder of what I was and the piece of my humanity I lost with each of them. Each of them took something different with their deaths. What would Olivia take? Could I survive without it? Was it possible I needed her?

If she knew who I really was, she wouldn’t stay so understanding. No one that good could ever understand what I was. I was even more worthless than that sack of skin Christopher. Yet she asked me to stay. She wanted me to stay. Could I keep up the ruse? Could I keep who I was from her and keep her from them? If I could buy myself time, time to figure out my next move, maybe just maybe I could work something out. I pictured Olivia and me happily dating, her joy and energy rubbing off on me. Us laughing and talking, taking walks together, enjoying each other’s company . . . The images were intoxicating.

But one night there’d be a knock on the door. They’d have found us. Olivia wouldn’t understand and would look to me for help, to save her. It would be too late. Darkness would ensue; we would die. We could have a month, maybe two. Was it worth my life to only be with her for a blink of an eye?

I couldn’t stop picturing hundreds of different scenarios, each ending violent and bloody. It was no good. I had to take care of this, and I had to do it today. No more stalling. I needed to get my life back to the way it was meant to be. I wasn’t meant to be hopeful. I wasn’t meant to question. Those qualities never got any of us very far. It was better for Olivia too. I’d kill her quick; she wouldn’t suffer.

I parked a few blocks from her apartment building, not wanting to risk anyone being able to identify my car to the police. But she was gone. I picked her lock just to be sure she wasn’t dead and that no one was in her apartment. I checked her studio; it too was empty. The gallery, her calendar—nothing. I racked my brain. Where would she have gone? It dawned on me—where do people go when someone dies? They seek out family, the comfort of loved ones. I considered getting my car, but the less that could be traced back to me around her, the better. I hailed a cab, full of purpose once again. She wasn’t at her mother’s. There was only one place left to look. I headed for her church.

Her car was in the parking lot. I leaned against it and waited. I never particularly like churches. It’s not that I can’t go into them—I just didn’t like them. Today was my last chance, no more wavering.

Eleven