Seers (15 page)

Not that I was completely relaxed in his presence. My heart rate—which had just managed to slow down—had picked up

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dramatically the moment I turned the corner and caught sight of him. Now I was trying to control my breathing, before he could notice. Luckily he was currently breathing hard enough for both of us, so it masked my own unsteady breaths. Still, I strictly ordered myself to get a grip.

He turned to me, his intense gaze studying my face, scrutiniz-ing for any sign that I’d lied, and that I really wasn’t okay.

I stared right back at him, wordlessly searching his face for any sign that I’d made the wrong choice in coming here. But it didn’t take a hard look to know that I hadn’t made a mistake. The worry on his face was undeniable, and his eyes . . . well, I got swallowed up by the now familiar crystalline blue.

“Are you all right?” He asked in a low whisper, his gaze still locked on my face.

I nodded a bit shakily. “Yeah. I mean, I still don’t know what’s going on, and I still have the creeps, but . . . I’m here.” His eyes lingered on my face a second longer, and then he was looking away, reaching for his seatbelt and glancing around the empty street.

We were in the more industrial area of town, which was usually dead no matter what time you came, due to the hard financial times that had caused pretty much the whole area to shut down.

But on a Saturday afternoon, we were completely alone. It was common knowledge that gangs met around here, and many drug deals wandered down at night, but . . .

My brow furrowed as the questions escalated in my mind, forming dangerous answers. “Wait a minute—what are you doing out here? And without a car?”

He forced his seatbelt into place, and then looked back up at me. He replied calmly, though his eyes hinted at uneasiness. “I live here.”

I felt my eyes widen. “You what?”

“Toni and I.” He clarified. “We live several blocks to the northwest, in an abandoned warehouse.” 112 K • • •

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“Since when?” I demanded. “What about your par . . .” but I couldn’t finish the question, and my eyes narrowed. Of course he wasn’t normal—he wouldn’t have parents and a real house. I just hadn’t pictured him living in a vacant building on the West side—

and especially not with the invisible man.

“What are you?” I demanded at last, though I could have used a harsher tone, I thought, once the words were out. I almost sounded scared. Was I scared? Of Patrick? For a short moment, I honestly wasn’t sure.

And then he spoke—his voice still gentle, trying to force me into an ease he obviously wasn’t totally feeling. Still, just the sound of his voice assured me that he wasn’t intending to hurt me.

“Kate, I’m a Guardian.”

Personally I thought he should have sounded a bit more uneasy about revealing such a deep dark secret, but he didn’t. He almost looked relieved to be finally telling me.

Not that his words meant anything to me. I’m an alien from outer space would have been more believable, because at least I’d know what I could expect from him: brain sucking, human anni-hilation, world domination, that sort of thing. In all honesty, Patrick’s revelation had revealed nothing.

Well, almost nothing.

“You’re not human?” I asked, my fingers curling more tightly around the steering wheel.

I watched his eyes flicker, and I knew he hadn’t missed the tense action. His voice contained more caution than before. “I was, once.”

Just what was I supposed to do with that? He wasn’t clearing anything up.

I swallowed hard, trying hard to keep the edge in my voice.

I needed to exert some authority—let him know that I was still in charge of this conversation. “What happened to you?” I asked, hoping it was a legitimate question.

He shrugged a single shoulder, his calm voice still intact. “I

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died.”

I blanched despite my best intentions. “You’re dead?” I half-gasped. “Like, a ghost?”

“Not quite.”

Was he fighting a smile?

I blew out my breath and forced my eyes closed. I shook my head before letting it fall back against my seat. “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” I moaned.

“Denial is always the initial reaction,” he assured me, in what he must have supposed was a soothing voice. “I promise, this isn’t all as bad as it seems.”

I opened my eyes, and rolled my head against the seat to regard him. “Really? Because right now things aren’t looking so good. Demons, Guardians, ghosts, auras . . . I think I liked it better when I just thought you were a weird Irishman. Or even an alien.”

“Um, thanks?” He chuckled lowly, but it was brief. He bit his lower lip, and then nodded toward the front of the car. “You’re wasting gas. Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

“Where?” I questioned, my body tensing in fear so quickly that my voice caught.

He shook his head once, his clear eyes open and reassuring.

“Anywhere that will make you comfortable, Kate. Preferably a place where we can safely discuss things, without being overheard.”

I considered briefly, my inner voice screaming for me to kick him out of the car and drive away at top speed. But my curiosity and—I’ll admit it—my desire to keep Patrick and all the feelings he inspired inside me won. I shifted to first and pulled back onto the deserted street. I pulled a sharp U-turn, and headed back toward town, a destination—the only destination—firmly in my mind.

Patrick didn’t say anything as we drove, and I didn’t bother to fill the silence. I wondered how much more my life could change in 114 K • • •

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a single year, and then decided I didn’t really want to know. Still, I had a feeling I was about to find out.

Patrick sat with one hand curled over his wrist, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes staring out the passenger window. He didn’t ask where I was taking him, and he only made one comment the whole drive. I’d pushed the power button on the radio, hoping that the sound would help to alleviate the oppres-sive silence, and I asked if he minded the intrusive music. He said that he didn’t, and then went right back to quietly gazing out the window.

I could only guess that he was organizing his thoughts. My only wish was that I could empty my reeling mind.

Before I was quite ready to be there, I was pulling through the familiar gate on the familiar tree lined road, which was really more like a driveway. If Patrick found it odd that we were driving into a cemetery, he didn’t say so. Maybe he recognized the sense in me choosing the place that would take me closer to my parents, and maybe he didn’t. Either way, I wasn’t going to talk about my reasons for choosing this particular spot.

I navigated through the somewhat winding roadways, loving the instant comfort that came with the secluded area. Short and round pine trees dotted the acreage, and a carpet of green grass spread around the varied headstones and lining shrubs. I steered toward a newer section of the grounds, stopping when I found a good place to pull closer to the edge of the grass. I wasn’t completely off the road, but another car could squeeze past if they were careful.

Not that it was a really busy place, of course.

I pulled up the emergency brake and twisted the key, shutting off the car and cutting off the wave of sound created by the radio.

In the sudden silence I turned expectantly toward him, feeling jit-tery.

He was still looking out his window, his breathing normal again. He didn’t seem to be sitting on the edge of his seat, like I certainly was.

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Finally he undid his seatbelt and glanced over at me. “Should we walk?” He asked me quietly.

I nodded once, and then curtly opened my door. I left my purse and Lee’s bag behind, but I pocketed my phone and keys.

Once I was standing outside I said automatically, “Lock your door. My car’s pretty old school—no automatic locks.” It was the same explanation I’d intoned a hundred times, but something was different this time, not that I could put a finger on the strange emotion I was feeling.

Patrick locked the door easily, and then thinly smiled over the roof of the car at me. “That’s okay. I like old things.” He shut his door, and I followed suit a heartbeat after.

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets, and then watched me carefully, wondering what I would do next.

I took a deep breath, pulling in the warmly scented air—freshly mown grass, bright sun, sweet flowers—and then I walked around the hood of my car, moving slowly. The quiet, peaceful surroundings prompted my careful mood despite my current situation—standing here with Patrick, unsure of who or what he was, unsure of what he was about to tell me, and certainly unwilling to think about how my whole life would be affected.

Once I was standing in front of Patrick I hesitated, then finally gave in and waved a hand vaguely around us. “Um—let’s go that way.”

“I’ll follow you,” he said simply. But he spoke with such sincerity, I wondered if he meant something more.

I started walking, weaving my way between the headstones, and he fell into step beside me. “So,” I said. “Is this like, reverse psychosis? You making me feel like I’m in control or something, even though I’m not?”

“I just want you to be as . . . comfortable as possible. This isn’t exactly an easy thing to digest.” I glanced over at him, but the low breeze lifted strands of hair into my face, brushing across my eyes and obscuring my view of his 116 K • • •

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face. I raised a single hand and combed the errant hairs back behind my ears, and then nodded at him. “Okay—I’m listening.” He pressed his lips together and looked ahead of us, considering, then slowly he began. “You knew something was different about me the first time you saw me. Or rather, my aura. Mine was the first silver aura you’d encountered, and so confusion would—” I shook my head, interrupting his words. “No. I’d seen Toni.

The idiot stepped in front of my car. I thought I’d gone insane, because Lee couldn’t see him.”

Patrick blew out his breath. “Right. Toni was . . . not supposed to show himself to you. He’s sort of, well . . . he has disci-plinary issues. That’s why he got paired up with me, actually. I’m supposed to teach him self control.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” He gave one of those half grins. “Yeah, thanks.” He ducked his head, sighing deeply. “Anyway, I was supposed to be the first person you saw. Then I was supposed to befriend you.”

“Make me comfortable?” I guessed easily, some sarcasm leaking into my tone.

He nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the ground. “Exactly.

And I thought it was working, until . . . you avoided me last Saturday.”

“I saw you, talking to Toni,” I said softly, lost in the memory.

The sight of them, the feeling of fear and distrust building inside of me as I watched them together . . . “I heard you two in the front yard at Lee’s, and . . . all my worries about you came back.” He was quiet for a short moment, and then—his voice almost overcome with regret—he continued. “And then I acted horribly, solidifying your fears. You surprised me with your accusations at lunch, and then I was anything but reassuring as I chased you down. I was just so worried that you’d run away, and I wouldn’t have the chance to warn you.”

“About the Demons?”

He finally looked up at me, his expression grave. “Yes.”

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I straightened, almost unconsciously lengthening my stride at the same time. “In the parking lot, you said that you came here for me. What did you mean? And how did you know about my . . .

abilities?”

He spoke in an exhale, the words obviously somewhat rehearsed. “When a person has a very threatening near-death experience, they are literally changed. They see things differently, because they are different now. A Seer is split between worlds.

They live on two separate planes of existence, which barely manage to coexist.”

“I’m still human, though?” I asked, my voice uncharacteristically timid.

His eyes slid over to me, a thin smile twisting his lips. “Of course. You’re just—special. You’re a Seer, Kate.”

“A Seer?”

“Because you see auras. You can discern the difference between beings—discern which plane a being exists on by the color of their aura.”

“I sort of guessed that’s what it meant,” I told him, a little too snidely perhaps.

He held up a hand in defense. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, I just wanted to clarify. I want this to make sense.” I sighed deeply, trying to let the fight leave me completely. My shoulders relaxed, and my voice was almost contrite. “Sorry, I’ll try not to do that again. I just—I get snappy when I’m off-balance.” His response was hurried. “Don’t apologize—you have a lot to take in. You’ve earned the right to be snappy.” He hesitated—I thought he might say something more. He didn’t.

We took a few steps in silence, then I dove back in. “So, everyone who almost experiences death is able to see auras?”

“Most,” he allowed. “But only a select few are actually considered Seers. When we find you—as in, anyone who survives death—we Guardians keep an eye on you, to determine how severe your sight is. Generally, a person who nearly suffered death 118 K • • •

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loses the ability to see auras before they regain full alertness. Most leave the hospital unchanged, with only a glimpse at the other plane—the colors—and that is hardly ever remembered. Unless the accident was extreme, in which case the sight lingers. Sometimes it takes days to disappear completely, but by the time it does most people forget they ever saw anything unusual, and those who remember the auras force themselves to forget. Some people—

like you—are quite obviously Seers, but sometimes Guardians are able to take that sight away. Some—again, like you—can’t be blinded.”

“You tried to . . . take my ability away?” I don’t know why I was so mortified at the thought, but it just seemed so . . . invasive.