Seers (16 page)

He nodded, watching me carefully. It was now that I realized we’d stopped walking. “That day I held the door for you,” he said slowly. “I was trying to achieve one of two things. I either wanted to take your special vision away, or assure you that I meant you no harm. Blinding a Seer—if they can be blinded—is a simple enough thing. Guardians have a few special talents—the ability to let others feel our essence, or soul—which is generally the best way to assure Seers of our sincerity—and also the ability to draw a veil over Seers with imperfect, or weak sight.” He bit his lower lip. “I couldn’t block your vision, or manipulate it in any way. It’s too strong. But I hope I was able to convince you that I mean you no harm, Kate.”

I decided to ignore that last part, and so I started walking again. He followed slowly, and we fell into step again. “So,” I began slowly. “Since you’re still around, I guess that means you’re not done with me. So what do you want?” One eye squinted slightly, as if he wasn’t sure how to put things delicately. “Mostly, I’m here for your own protection. Until you decide what you want to do,” he added more quickly.

“My protection?”

His voice was suddenly thinner, and he wasn’t looking right at me anymore. “Guardians aren’t the only ones who hunt for Seers,”

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he said at last.

“You mean the Demons?” I asked, but it was really more for just clarification than an actual question.

He answered me anyway. “Yes.”

I hesitated. “When you say Demon, do you mean like, of the devil?”

He thought about that, and then pointed toward a large hedge. “Maybe we should sit down for this part? It might take a while.”

He waited for me to lead the way, which I did after a moment’s pause. Once we were seated on the lumpy ground, Patrick began to speak.

“As you’ve probably noticed, the world isn’t exactly what you thought it was. There’s more going on than most people realize.” He was slipping into these words more easily, like he was used to this part of the conversation. Like he’d gone over this a hundred times before. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. For some reason, I didn’t like to think of Patrick watching over other Seers. Especially female ones.

Was I actually feeling jealous?

Knock it off, my inner logic hissed, and pay attention!

“When you die,” Patrick said carefully. “You are given a choice. You can go on to Heaven—which is actually any and every definition of paradise—or you can become a Guardian.

“Paradise is what most people choose—it’s the logical choice.

You move on to a better existence, and you get to live with your friends and family forever. You continue to do the things that made you happy here, and you’re basically surrounded with peace and joy. There’s no sorrow or pain.” I couldn’t stop myself from cutting in. “You mean, my parents are alive still? They’re just in Heaven?” Of course I’d been raised on Christian beliefs, but this was actual proof that my faith hadn’t been in vain.

He nodded gently. “We don’t stop living when we die here. We 120 K • • •

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just exist somewhere else. Just as the sun doesn’t disappear or cease to exist at night—it’s just in another place. Or, more specifically, a different plane. One that even a Seer can’t penetrate.” I flashed back to their funeral—to the words that had been said by so many. “So my parents really are in a better place?” I whispered.

His hand twitched on the ground between us, but he didn’t touch me. “They couldn’t be happier, I’m sure. Someday, you’ll be reunited with them.”

Patrick was quiet for a moment, letting me absorb this.

“Can I . . . Can I talk to them?” The pity was clear in his eyes. “No. I’m sorry. Once you’ve made the choice, there’s no going back. They can’t return to the earthly plane. At least, not visibly. Their memory and some of their essence remains, but they’ve moved on. You won’t see them again until you move on, too.”

I nodded, trying to show him that I didn’t care that much anyway, but I wasn’t fooling him. I decided to ask another question that would steer the conversation away from my parents.

“What about kids? When they die—are they given the choice?” Patrick shook his head quickly. “No. Those who die in infancy, or as young children, go immediately to Heaven. And actually, they remain their death age until their parents join them in Heaven. Then their parents are able to finish raising them, having all of the experiences that they missed out on before death’s separation. Of course, there are differences; Heaven is perfect, after all. No sadness, or pain, or sickness.”

“Wait—you don’t stay your same age after you die?”

“You become the perfect age after you die—twenty-five.

Unless you died young, as I mentioned before.” I blew out my breath. It was a lot to take in.

He watched me carefully, then—at a silent look from me—he took up the story again. “Since all choices are final once you’re dead, not many people choose to become Guardians. Because

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once you’ve signed up for that, you can never move on. You can never go to Paradise.”

“But you chose it,” I said, sounding almost accusing.

“Yes, I did. So did Toni, though we both had very different motives.” He shook his head a little, as if recalling some distant memory. I couldn’t tell if it was amusing, or sad. But then the moment was past, and he was back in the story-telling mode. “A Guardian’s job is to return to the earthly plane, mostly human.

We have a few notable differences, obviously.”

“Like being able to go invisible?” He nodded once. “Right.”

“How do you do that, anyway?”

He shrugged a little. “It’s sort of our default mode, actually. It takes effort to be visible—I just have to think about going invisible, and, well, it happens. That’s how all of our . . .” He searched for the right word.

“Quirks?” I offered.

His half grin was back. “Exactly. That’s just how they work.”

“But I could still see you,” I protested at once, my brow furrowing.

“Seer,” he hinted delicately.

“Oh. Right.” I’d almost forgotten. “So I can see you, no matter what?”

Patrick nodded. “Touch me, talk to me—for you, I’d appear completely normal. Because when I’m invisible, I’m not on the earthly plane—I’m on the . . . Guardian plane, which you can still interact with.”

I briefly wondered if he was invisible now, but I felt too weird asking that particular question. So I asked another one. “What else is different about you? Aside from being invisible?”

“Well, we’re sort of immortal.”

“Sort of?”

“We don’t age, and we can’t die.”

“Sounds like complete immortality to me,” I said, completely 122 K • • •

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wowed. I shook my head, as if to clear it from all these impossible things. “So, you’re immortal, and you can go invisible—anything else I should know?”

He considered that, while subconsciously toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Not that immediately comes to mind.

Those are the big things.”

“So wait a minute—How long have you been a Guardian?” He answered without having to think. “Since 1798.” I blinked, and nearly choked. “But that’s . . .”

“A really long time,” he agreed, a small smile cracking his face.

“I know. Eternity is longer than you ever imagined, trust me.” I was still full of questions about him, but I could tell that he was eager to get on with his explanation, so I told myself not to interrupt anymore. There would be another time to hear more about his personal history. I hoped.

“Guardians have really only one purpose. One reason for existence. And that’s to protect humans.”

“From the Demons?”

“Yes. But that becomes difficult, because we can’t tell the difference between Demons and Humans. Only a Seer can do that.”

“So, you enlist the help of Seers to help track down these Demons?” I guessed, not really liking where this was going.

He nodded, and deftly plucked out a blade of grass, pinching it tightly between his fingers. “But sometimes Seers would rather . . . not get involved? That’s a good way of putting it. Either way, we try to protect them too. Because where a Seer is, Demons are never far away.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“Demons want to find Guardians almost as much as we want to find them. They try and enlist Seers too, and since there aren’t that many to go around, well . . . There’s usually a bit of a fight.” He tossed the sliver of grass aside, and then shifted his position—

pulling one bent leg up to his chest.

“Are Demons like, Guardians gone bad?” I asked, pulling

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both knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms tightly around them. “Can they go invisible too?”

“Demons exist on the same plane as Guardians. We’re the middle plane, I guess you could say. Our plane separates the earthly from the heavenly. But I’m getting off topic. Demons are immortal, and they usually spend more time invisible than not, since that takes less effort than going visible, but that’s pretty much where the similarities between Guardians and Demons end. They are completely different from us.”

“They were once human?”

“Until they met death.” He shifted his weight again, moving to stretch out his legs and lean back on his hands, which were balanced against the ground behind him. His strong, lean arms tensed, taking his weight easily. “It takes a lot of evil to become a Demon.

I mean, a person can lie and steal their whole life, and still get the choice between Guardian and Paradise. (Just for the record, most of the shadier people choose to be a Guardian, so they’re closer to the life they knew. Something about the idea of Heaven scares them.) Anyway, unless you’re a murderer, or something equally as bad, you’re not in danger of becoming a Demon. But when a human with a corrupt heart dies, they aren’t given a choice. They’re sent to some sort of probational prison, until everyone who knew them is dead.

Then they’re sent back to Earth, where they usually try to get even by corrupting humans.”

“That’s very thoughtful of the Man in Charge—to let them come back.”

Patrick cracked a smile. “I don’t try to understand or judge.

I’m just here to help keep them under control.”

“So you’re like . . . “ Parole officer didn’t sound very flattering, so I went with my next thought. “A Guardian angel?” He frowned, though I could tell from his somewhat exasper-ated expression that he’d heard the comparison before. It was obvious he didn’t appreciate it any more this time around. “That’s where humans got the whole concept, but we prefer just Guardians. Some 124 K • • •

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of us—like Toni—aren’t exactly angelic material.”

“So, you’re like the Demons’ prison guards? That kinda stinks that you can’t tell who’s a Demon and who’s not.”

“Well, we can always keep an eye on the suspicious ones, and then see if they go invisible. Then it’s a pretty educated guess.” He shrugged. “You’re right though, it makes it a little tough.”

“So, that Demon in the mall—he wants me to be his eyes? So he can avoid Guardians?”

Patrick nodded, but spoke quickly. “But trust me, the last thing you want is to work for a Demon. They’re not exactly . . .

stable. Driven by hate and revenge, they care little about others.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Well, I guess I’ll scratch go find a demon to serve off my to-do list for the day.” He laughed once, and shook his head. “This limits your career options, I’m sure.”

“Back to the drawing board,” I agreed with a small smile, pleased with myself for making him laugh.

He plucked another piece of grass from the lawn, and absently began to twist it around his fingers. He continued to watch me, waiting for me to bring us back to the important conversation.

I searched briefly for a good question, and was instantly overwhelmed by them. I picked the easiest to word. “Why are the Demons afraid of you? I mean, it’s not like you can kill them or anything. They’re immortal. Why be intimidated?”

“They are immortal, so technically they can’t die. But we can still take care of them.” Patrick drew up his right leg and pulled the cuff up, away from his shoe. Then he pulled out a dagger that had been sheathed against his calf, and looked at me, as if the sight of the weapon would suddenly make everything clear to me.

I couldn’t help but flinch back at the sudden appearance of the weapon, but that didn’t stop Patrick from balancing it on his palm and holding it out toward me. It wasn’t in a threatening manner at all, but still it made me uneasy. It was obviously not a butter knife he had balanced on his open palm. “We only use it on Demons

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that have threatened a human soul, or have endangered a Seer’s life.” He assured me quietly. He paused, and then allowed, “Generally, anyway.”

“What good does it do, if it doesn’t kill them?” I asked, still staring at the blade. It wasn’t too long—maybe the length of my hand—but it was chillingly sharp. The hilt was lightly decorated, but equally small. Still, size wasn’t everything. It still looked deadly to me.

“A stab in the heart banishes them from Earth forever,” Patrick explained. “Most remember their first time in Prison well enough to know that they’re better off here, so usually they don’t give us a lot of trouble. Some, though, are too consumed with revenge to care. Others follow a higher order than themselves.” He shrugged. “Bullets aren’t effective, but a knife will do the trick every time.”

“What do you mean about a higher order?” I wondered if he was trying to be cryptic on purpose, and thought briefly about slapping his arm.

“Well, we Guardians are pretty organized. We have leaders we report too, we have a system for finding and protecting Seers; it only makes sense that Demons—at least some of them—would organize themselves too.”

“So, there’s like a Demon government, or something?”

“A Demon King, or Lord as he prefers, but close enough.” I shivered despite the warmth of the day. “That’s not creepy or anything,” I muttered.