Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (34 page)

“Is it Olivia?”

“No. I have duties other than her. There are people who need me. I’ll be in contact. Will you be here?”

I glanced around the room. The apartment smelled like her and I felt closer to her here. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Quintus nodded and walked out, and I used my time alone to drive myself crazy, searching every recess of my mind for any hint of her. I don’t know where I found it, but it was after I stopped looking. I had collapsed down onto her couch in defeat, and I finally sensed something. I felt sadness and grief throbbing in a little hidden alcove of my brain. I felt her curl into a ball and for just a second it was like she was in the next room. Then it was gone, and I was alone.

I stayed in Olivia’s apartment for two days solid, waiting, hoping more than believing she would come back. But why would she? The anger and betrayal she felt that night still hung heavily in my mind and in the air. I wanted to look for her, but I had no idea where to start. Though I hated to admit it, the guardian was probably right. I needed to give her space. But every day she was gone was like a knife in my chest. Worry engulfed me and my emotions were all over the place. My only solace was that if I paid attention and stayed open, which I always did, I occasionally caught glimpses of her feelings. More often than not, though, it was bittersweet. She was hurt, and the pain didn't seem to be subsiding even a little. The most damnable part was knowing that it was almost entirely my own doing. I caused the pain. I had to get my feelings under control if I spoke with her again.

I will speak with her again
. 

I wondered if it would always be like this with us. Would I always have to repress myself around her—would I even get to be around her when she wasn’t human? Jinn gifts were iffy when it came to the supernatural world. They worked on some, but not on others. Young guardians from my experience were easier to mess with than the older ones. Mostly though, we avoided each other, a mutual repulsion. Quintus seemed as unaffected by my abilities as I was by his. He in no way calmed me or made want to work in a soup kitchen—or whatever it is good people do. And in return I didn’t turn him into a killer or a raving lunatic. He stopped by a couple times, but he was useless to me. He couldn't find Olivia, nor did he seem concerned about finding her. He went on and on about her discovering her own way. She had a journey she needed to make, blah, blah, blah. Basically drivel, typical of his type, as obscure and ambiguous as a fortune cookie and every bit as useless. Christ, I was working with a guardian and in love with a future one.
I was so fucked.

And in the midst of all this fun thinking time, I kept obsessing about how long it would take for them to come for me. How long would it take them to realize I’d broken the rules and was fraternizing with the enemy? It bothered me a little that they hadn't come yet. Not that I was in any rush to go to hell, but I was concerned that their lack of response was due to the fact that the guardian was right. They were manipulating us.

On the third day of my self-imprisonment in her house, I had to get out or lose my mind completely. Being there surrounded by her wasn’t doing me any good. I was more and more on edge every day—perhaps because I was so keen on being tuned into her feelings that I wasn't getting a grip on mine. I decided to walk back to my place. The air would do me good. I left a note in case Olivia came back or if the guardian stopped by.

Luckily the day was cloudy, so it hurt less to be in the sun. It was the demon influence that caused the light reaction. Jinn are said to be made from the flames of hell, but whether or not it’s true I don’t know.

What I do know, however, is that demons are repelled by light and thrive in darkness, and most jinn tend to lean that way as well. Not me though—I never did get a taste for the darkness like the other jinn. I was still fond of the daytime and suffered through the pain of it more often than others did. Being in the sun gave the sensation of being badly sunburned all of the time, though the brighter the sun, of course, the worse the burn. The damage didn't show on my skin—didn’t turn me red—but I did look more like my human self after being in the sun for a day.

The adverse reaction to sunlight was often a reminder for other jinn of how much they had lost. Normally, it was just the ones who were about to break who spent more time in the daylight. I was never like the others. The job stressed them. Either they couldn't let go of their human ideas and notions, or they let go too much and made it impossible to blend into society. Part of being a jinni was being able to adapt to situations and times as they changed. You had to be able to fit in with humans, but not feel badly for what you did to them. And really, it wasn't like we created feelings out of thin air. Most often we used the feelings they already had inside of them, just inflated them until the person broke. We couldn’t, for example, force someone to kill someone else if they didn’t already have a homicidal urge.

It was cut and dry. It was simple. I never regretted the deal I made. I never had a problem adjusting. I’d outlived most jinn because of my ability to stay detached. Admittedly, I was bored with life because no matter how much the world changed everything also remained the same. I remained the same. Liv awoke dangerous feelings inside of me and made me see the world through her eyes. I smiled to myself briefly; she was my Delilah.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that at first, I didn’t realize the havoc I was causing by simply walking down the street. Some people burst out in tears as I walked past them, while others took swings at the nearest passerby. I looked to my right just in time to see an old lady with a coy smile reaching up to stroke my face.
Oh crap.

I had to control myself better than that. I made a conscious effort to rein in the feelings. I’d been so open to all emotions the past couple days trying to find Olivia that I’d forgotten to keep a tight grasp on them. I took a deep breath and counted to ten while the old lady petted me, and pulled inward with everything I had. When I opened my eyes, she was shaking her head, looking embarrassed.

“I am so sorry, so sorry.”

“That's fine,” I interrupted and walked away while she was still coming to terms with her temporary lack of judgment. I glanced back a couple times. Most of the chaos had subsided. Fights had been broken up, the crying stopped, and the old lady was walking the opposite direction again.

“That was irresponsible,” a voice said next to me.

 
Shit. I really wanted to talk with her at least one last time before I died.

Twenty Three

How did everything fall so spectacularly apart? I’d been happy less than two weeks ago, excited about the future even. In two moments I could never get back, everything changed. Juliet died, and I lost Holden. The loss and the lies stung. I missed Jules so much I could hardly breathe. She was the person I would’ve talked all of this through with. My heart ached to think about Holden. I missed him in a way that was hard to understand. I kept reminding myself that I hardly knew him, and that what I thought I knew couldn’t be trusted. However, it was like he was part of me, and I couldn’t be whole without him. I couldn’t be sure how much of what I was feeling for him was real, and how much he made me feel. And that terrified me.

Our connection was undeniable. I longed for that closeness as soon as I drove away. What was I supposed to do when I couldn’t even trust my own feelings? The jinn thing wasn’t something I could bring myself to think about or to forget. I didn’t understand it; it didn’t seem possible. And even though I didn’t know how much, if any, of the heaven and hell business I believed in the first place, I did know that killing people was not something I could ever get past.

Quintus was nice. I felt badly for shouting at him, and I still wasn’t sure where that came from. I didn’t really blame him for Juliet’s death. I actually still felt like we could become friends if we had more time, but given his revelation, time was not a luxury I still possessed. I wished Quintus would have told me everything from the beginning, but I understood why he couldn’t. No one should live with the knowledge of their death hanging over their head.

I wasn’t ready to die. I’d just started living. Hiding in a hotel in the middle of the desert wasn’t going to save me, but I didn’t know how to save myself. I had less than three months left to live and no idea about what I should do next. Everyone who was important to me was either dead, on vacation, or was someone I wasn’t speaking to.

I’m not going to waste my last two months lying in a hotel bed feeling sorry for myself.
It was nearly dark, but I climbed out of bed and opened the patio door to my room, letting fresh air circulate. I jumped into the shower and tried to wash away everything that happened in St. Louis three days ago. I wanted to go back, back to before any of this—back to when I was bored. Bored was a really good thing.

I dressed and took a hard look in the mirror. I looked like a shadow of my former self. Gone was the easy smile and laughter in my eyes. In their place was a hard determined line my mouth had taken and large unforgiving dark circles that had stopped threatening to overtake my eyes and had just went ahead and did it. I had to get some sleep—and I had to figure out a way to fall asleep for more than two hours at a time, but first things first.

I grabbed my purse and left the room. At the nearest clothing store, I bought some essentials, because I couldn’t keep wearing the same things. Next I found a grocery store. Not that I was hungry or had been hungry since the day Juliet died actually, but I knew I had to eat. I also bought alcohol. I wasn’t a drinker. Mostly nursed drinks until all the ice melted, but if I couldn't fall asleep on my own, perhaps I could pass out. I also bought a note pad and a package of pens. It was time to make a plan.

Back in my room, I took my deli sandwich, notebook, and the bottle of tequila out on the patio. The hotel was on the outskirts of town, and my room looked out onto nothing. I stared out into the desert that stretched out in front of me and forced myself to eat the entire sandwich. When I finished it, I opened my bottle and took a swig. Good God, it was horrible. Warm tequila burned a trail down my throat and into my stomach. I opened the notebook to a crisp new sheet of paper and stared at it. Then I made two columns. One for things I knew, and one for things I didn’t. In the first column I put: Holden’s a jinni, jinn are evil, he manipulates my feelings, he didn’t tell me to protect me, Quintus is a guardian, guardians are good, he is supposed to help me, so far has been absent, I’m supposedly a guardian to be, someone is trying to kill me, killer began watching me before the guys popped up, and Mark is suspect number one.

I moved on to the second column: What is a jinni, what is a guardian, why are they picking on me, do I want to be a guardian, how can I give up Holden, how can I stay alive, why did Juliet die, what is after me, and why. I read over both lists as I continued to drink. I needed to research these things. I realized I had answers just a call and a prayer away, but I didn’t want to talk to either of them and hear their half-truths and partial explanations. I needed hard evidence. I needed something to help me take control of what was left of my life.

The night grew dark, while I continued to drink and think. My heart longed for two people, but couldn’t have either of them. I wanted Holden and Jules. I
needed
them. I needed Jules to point out the positive and to convince me we would figure out how to solve all of this. I needed Holden like this desert needs rain. No one expects it, but the result of the combined force is beautiful. I sighed.

But he killed Christopher,
I reminded myself.

No matter how many times I thought about Holden, forgave him for the secrets, forgave him for who he was, I couldn’t get past that one point. He killed someone I knew and at one time cared about—and for no better reason than jealousy. It wasn't like he was ordered to do it. It wasn't even like Christopher posed a real threat. He killed him simply because he could. I couldn't reconcile that in my mind at all. I wanted to go back to him. It would be so much easier. I wanted to be back at his apartment, laughing over dishes, having a frustrating conversation in which he told me nothing, talking about something ridiculous while he looked on with the utmost fascination.