Seers (17 page)

Despite our topic, Patrick seemed completely relaxed. “It’s really nothing to be worried about. He keeps his head low, and he always uses underlings to do his bidding. Honestly, you’ll never have to worry about that side of the Demon world.”

“So, what side do I need to be worried about?” Patrick nodded a little, and re-sheathed his dagger as he did so. “Good question. As you’ve already experienced, local Demons will take an interest in you for a while.” 126 K • • •

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“For how long?” I asked, inwardly shuddering at the thought of being stalked all over again. The fear I’d felt at the mall had yet to completely disappear, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to going through something like that again.

“It depends on how desperate they are; how badly they want a Seer. But don’t worry—Toni and I are here for exactly this reason.

I’ve been assigned to be your Guardian, and I don’t take that responsibility lightly. As long as you need protection, I’ll be here.

The more you’re willing to help us hunt them down, the sooner you can go back to your old life—unless at that point you decide to become a full-time Seer for the Guardians.” I gave him my best Are you serious? look, and he seemed to get the point, though he only smiled. “It’s something to think about,” he said in defense of himself. “You could help a lot of people.”

“I guess I’ve just never considered Demon hunting as a possible career path,” I said evenly.

He chuckled, and then suddenly rolled to his feet. Towering over me, I was struck once again by how truly breathtaking he was. He offered a hand, which I took. He helped hoist me to my feet, but once I was standing he dropped my hand. I was almost startled to feel the tingle that filled my empty palm, and I wished more than anything in that moment that he would wrap his fingers around mine again.

Stupid.

We started wandering back in the general direction of the car, a careful distance keeping our bodies from touching.

He was quiet for probably a full minute before he spoke, casting a covert glance in my direction. “You know, I’ve always wondered what people like you are thinking right now—after hearing all that.”

I blew out my breath, and kicked a rock out of my path.

“Honestly? I’m not really thinking about anything in particular.” I stopped speaking, but he remained silent, as if waiting for more. I finally gave in and continued. “I guess I don’t know what to think.

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I’m being haunted by a bunch of immortals. It’s weird.” He nodded. “I can understand that. Becoming a Guardian wasn’t exactly an easy switch for me, either. But soon enough the weirdness becomes reality, and your life seems normal again.”

“Really?” I asked doubtfully.

He shrugged a single shoulder. “More or less.” I let my eyes wander the cemetery, surprised like I always was by how peaceful and cut off from the world it seemed. Somehow, it made this conversation more believable.

“So . . . You said over the phone that Demons can’t touch humans?”

Patrick didn’t answer right away. “That’s true,” he admitted at last. “But don’t let that make you complacent. It’s a pretty useless protection, if you ask me.”

“I thought you didn’t judge?”

He smiled at my tentative smile, and then he scratched his chin. “Yeah, I suppose I did. Still, it isn’t the best defense a human could have. Demon’s aren’t able to harm a human until a human’s skin first comes in contact with the Demon’s skin. The idea is that since a human has to initiate the contact, they must want Demon association, so they’re getting what they deserve.” He shook his head. “More often than not Demons use a handshake, but others have gotten really creative. So if you can help it, don’t ever touch anyone with a black aura. Please,” he added, as if he really did have to beg.

I could see the car now, but it was still a ways off. “I’m sorry I have so many questions, but—I’m afraid I’m going to miss something important, but . . . is there a reason I can’t see your emotions? I mean, there’s your silver aura, but . . . Usually I see colors.” He was nodding before I’d finished, his eyes trained straight ahead. “Demons and Guardians can hide their emotions from Seers. I’m not really sure why, but it takes little effort, and it’s kind of just . . . the natural thing to do, if that makes sense. Hiding a part of ourselves makes us feel less vulnerable to the all seeing 128 K • • •

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beings that you Seers are. ”

I nodded once, to show that I understood, and then moved on to my next question. “So what now? What am I supposed to do?”

“For now, continue doing what you’ve been doing. I’ll continue to be around you as much as possible, for your own safety, and if you see anything unusual, let me know. Toni and I will take care of the rest. You just point out any Demons that you see.”

“You make it sound easy,” I complained, though I wasn’t as annoyed as I pretended to be. True, all of this was more than a little unsettling. But walking calmly through the cemetery next to Patrick, well . . . it wasn’t exactly an awful way to spend an afternoon.

I tried to remember the existence of Aaron, my boyfriend, but Patrick was speaking again, and I was riveted by his words.

“You know, I think you’ve taken all of this in better than anyone else I’ve ever heard of.”

“Really? Are you remembering the parking lot scene?”

“I couldn’t really forget it, but yes—that included.” I bit my lower lip, wondering if it was really the time to broach this topic. “So, how many times have you been a Guardian angel to Seers?”

He groaned, but it was a joking, playful sound. “You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?”

“Guardian angel? Probably,” I smiled, stepping up to the passenger door, digging in my pocket for the keys.

“Hmm . . . I’ll have to come up with something for you—so we’ll be even.” For some reason, I didn’t even realize that he’d dodged the question.

“Good luck.” I unlocked his door, and then moved around the car to my side. Before I could reach my door Patrick was inside, and opening my door for me. He pushed it open with his fingertips, and then leaned back into his seat so I could get in. I whispered a quick thank you, and then fit the key into the ignition.

Before I could turn the car on, Patrick spoke.

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“Kate,” he said, and the sound of his voice so close to me caused my stomach to flip.

I glanced up, and saw him watching me—a grateful look on his smooth face.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For believing me.” I forced a smile. “Well—after that Demon and everything else that’s happened, I didn’t have a lot of excuses to doubt.”

“Still,” he reached over, and I held my breath as his fingers lighted upon the back of my hand, which was resting low on the steering wheel. His touch was gentle, yet so electric. His fingertips lingered against my skin, giving that strange electricity plenty of time to travel through my wrist and down my arm, warming every pore and raising every hair. It continued on to my heart, and then down to my stomach. It felt like my entire body was reacting to that smallest of touches, and I wondered if he knew it. I hoped he didn’t. It wasn’t safe for anyone to know they held that much power. I was literally melting, and at the same time so alert and alive. My heart pounded, my breathing became more rapid.

“Thank you,” he whispered fervently.

And then it was over. He pulled back, and busied himself with his seatbelt, giving me a second to recover. Not that a complete recovery was possible in so short a time, but I was able to shake myself enough to put on my own seatbelt, and then start the car.

Still, it would be a long time before I felt normal again.

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Fifteen

Patrick was afraid of overwhelming me, so he asked me to just take him home. But I quickly assured him that Toni and Lee wouldn’t be done for a while yet, and I didn’t want to be alone right now. (I didn’t tell him that last part, but I’m pretty sure he understood what I was thinking.) And so he asked what I wanted to do, like I had any idea of what I wanted right now.

I thought about taking him to get something to eat, but the last thing I wanted to do was be seen with him in public. What if I ran into Aaron, or my family—pretty much anyone who knew me? I didn’t want to face that now—preferably never, though I knew such a wish wasn’t very practical.

In the end, I asked him to show me where he’d been living for the last couple months.

While he directed me through the streets, taking us back to the industrial area, he asked me questions about myself. My likes and dislikes, mostly. He kept it pretty basic, but he looked interested by everything I said. I think it was just his way of ‘keeping me comfortable’.

Colors, movies, books, foods—the usual things. I tried to squeeze in my own questions, but he was an expert at avoiding personal questions. (If your favorite color could be considered personal, anyway.)

I still believed that he was infinitely more fascinating than I was, and I was dying to learn the rest of his story. But it wasn’t the

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sort of thing I felt comfortable flat out asking him. ‘How did you die?’ It seemed like a pretty uncouth question all the way around.

I knew he was deflecting most of the questions that would lead to his personal life, and so eventually I gave up. I supposed that I’d learn it all eventually. It sounded like he was going to be in my life for a while yet.

I definitely had mixed feelings about that.

Soon enough he was telling me to pull into a badly paved driveway, between two large brown buildings. I inched slowly forward, the long shadows of late afternoon making the path seem even smaller than it was.

It wasn’t a pristine road by any means, and it took all my concentration to dodge the potholes without running into the sides of the buildings. Finally we emerged out of the alley and I found that we were in some kind of asphalt courtyard, mostly boxed in by brick and cement buildings.

Patrick pointed straight ahead. “That’s the one. You can park anywhere.”

I parked right in front of the most obvious double doors, which appeared boarded up. Glancing up, it appeared that most of the windows had been shattered by rocks, or other objects. All in all, it didn’t really look like home sweet home.

“You’ve been living here?” I asked, unable to keep the shock from my voice.

He chuckled, and undid his seatbelt. “Don’t worry—I’ve lived in worse.” He opened his door, locking it again before I could remind him. I followed his lead, this time bringing my purse with me just in case. The area seemed deserted, but still. I figured Lee’s purchases could fend for themselves for a while.

He was already at the doors by the time I’d locked my door and turned to follow him. He waited until I was closer before opening the door on the left. On closer inspection, I realized that the boards weren’t actually fastened to the building, so it basically was a door with some boards stuck on it.

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“Immortal people don’t lock their doors?” I asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Sometimes. But since we’re already dead, what more could someone do?” He teased, waving me inside the open door.

Some light filtered in through the upper windows, but the large room I found myself in was still a little too shadowy to be considered comfortable. And homey it definitely was not. It was a cavernous factory floor, which had been mostly cleared out years ago. Cobwebs, some scattered crates, and several large objects or machines I couldn’t identify littered the wide floor. It was easy to imagine that this room was the entire first floor of the large building. The cement floor was hard, and littered with bits of dirt and debris. Still, there was an obvious trail that led straight across the room, to a wide staircase that led up.

“Could use a little help,” I admitted at last, hearing him coming up beside me.

“That’s a gentle way of putting it,” he returned smoothly, hands going deep into his pockets as he surveyed the room with me. “Honestly, though, the second floor is better. That’s where we actually live.”

I followed him as he moved across the floor, stirring up dust as we went. I still couldn’t believe I was here. It was pretty much the last place I would have expected my Saturday with Lee to take me. Strangely, though, I didn’t mind. All my fears that Patrick was in any way dangerous had fled, and I felt completely at ease. Aside from the occasional thoughts of Aaron, I was actually enjoying myself. True, that might have just been my mind’s way of protecting itself from all the insane information I’d digested today, but still.

We moved up the stairs slowly, and I could feel Patrick looking over at me almost constantly, watching for a negative reaction, I guessed. I don’t know what he expected me to do, but I continued to just look around at my surroundings, awed despite myself. I still didn’t understand everything about Patrick, and the Guardians, but I understood that he was here, living in this dump because he

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wanted to help people. To help me. It was a humbling thought.

The second floor looked like a completely different building.

Instead of open and spacious, there were empty corridors and a lot of doors. It was easy to imagine that this was where the supervi-sors had hung out all day, in their comfortable offices.

Patrick led me down a short hall just off the second floor landing, and then paused briefly before opening a door.

“Okay,” he said, grinning his famous half grin. “Don’t judge too harshly. Toni’s not exactly neat.”

“And you are?” I teased.

“I’m not going to deny or agree with that statement,” he half-answered, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

This time he stepped in first, but I was quick to follow.

The room was fairly large, though it was sparsely decorated.

There was a broken couch that sagged dangerously close to the floor on one side, and a low table in front of that. The table was pretty dented and scuffed up, but it was covered with old newspapers and a couple grease-stained pizza boxes that appeared empty.