Seers (30 page)

When the movie ended, we were all gasping, trying to get a hold of ourselves. But just as we started to quiet, Jenna would whisper, “Car chase,” or Josie would croak, “Patrick moved the couch three feet!” and it would all start up again.

It probably took us a half hour after the movie was over for us to breathe normally—with only a few sudden bursts of laughter.

Aside from the pain in my midsection, it felt amazingly good to laugh. I hadn’t ever laughed that hard in my life; especially not since my parents had passed away.

“When I can stand,” Josie gasped from the floor, “I’m going to kill you, Patrick.”

“I’m so sore,” Jenna groaned. “I can’t move!”

“I can still barely breathe,” I complained, burrowing deeper into the plush couch.

“I can’t believe how funny you all looked,” Patrick gulped through another laugh.

228 K • • •

• • • K s e e r s

“Us?” Josie rolled to her knees to regard him. “Us!? Did you see yourself? You were practically dying!” I glanced down at the floor, and then faced Patrick with a grin. “You did move the couch.”

He snorted, his body rippling with a suppressed laugh. “I did not—that was all you!”

“Not even,” I reached over to slap his arm, missed, and did a face-plant into the cushion, my arm falling uselessly to brush the floor.

That started them all laughing again, and it was a while before I was able to raise my head and speak. “All right, that’s enough—

you two were supposed to be in bed half an hour ago. Get.”

“Ah, who cares? It’s a Saturday, and Grandma’s gone.” Jenna seemed to agree with her twin. “Yeah—let’s watch another. What about an animated movie this time? A Disney classic. That could be awesome!”

“Robin Hood!” Josie yelled, naming her favorite.

“Get it!” Jenna urged.

Patrick blew out his breath, as if that would rid him of the giggles. He leaned forward, patting me gently on the back, where I was still face-planted next to him. He addressed the twins. “I think your sister’s right. It’s getting late. You don’t want your Grandparents to get back while I’m here—they might not let me come back.”

Josie looked horrified. “Then go!” She lurched forward, clutching his leg. “Go, go, go!”

He just shook his head. “Not until you’re in bed.”

“Meanie!” Josie yelled into his leg.

But it worked.

In minutes they were telling us good night, and heading upstairs. Soft music continued to eek out of the speakers, but Jenna had switched the TV off.

“Are you still alive?” He asked next to me, pushing the cushion down in an effort to free my nose and give me some air.

• • • K 229

h e a t h e r f r o s t K • • •

“Yep. But I hurt.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know girls could make some of the sounds you made tonight.”

As I pushed myself up I slapped his knee, and then we were sitting side by side in the otherwise empty room; probably a little closer than would be considered good, seeing as how I had a boyfriend.

“You’re good with kids,” I said, more to break the short silence than anything else. “They really like you.”

“They’re fun girls.”

“Yeah, I guess they are.” I glanced over at him, hoping I wouldn’t ruin the jovial mood that—while subdued—still lingered. “Did you have any siblings?” He continued to stare at the black screen. “Um, yeah. I did.

A brother.”

“Older, or younger?”

“Younger. But only by a little.”

“Were you close?”

He nodded once. “Very.”

“What was his name?” I asked tentatively.

It took a moment before he answered. “Sean. His name was Sean.”

I bit my lower lip, deliberated shortly, and then laid my hand on his knee. He looked over at me, surprised by the contact. I smiled understandingly. “Is it hard to talk about him? About your family?”

His eyes moved over my face, and he nodded. “Yes. I know it was a long time ago, but still . . .” He glanced away, and I kicked myself for bringing it up. Of course it would be painful. He must have watched them die, while he himself never aged.

I was about to draw my hand back, but then he was turned toward me, speaking quietly. “I loved my family deeply. My father was sometimes hard for me to talk to during my last year of life, 230 K • • •

• • • K s e e r s

but I still loved and respected him. My mother was an angel. And my brother . . . he was my best friend.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “You probably don’t know much about the time period—at least, not much aside from the American and French revolutions. But it was a hard time for Ireland as well. We were under British rule, and life wasn’t easy. A rebellion began, and my father was swept into it like many were. He encouraged Sean and I to join, but I wanted other things.” He cracked a very thin smile.

“Don’t laugh, but, I wanted to be an artist. A painter.” I regarded him with new admiration. “You paint?”

“I haven’t for a very long time,” he admitted. He tilted his head to the side. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Um, I’m sort of an artist myself. But I prefer sketching to painting. I’ve always been better at that.”

“You’re an artist?” His initial surprise was mingled with light approval.

I shrugged a bit awkwardly. “Sort of.”

“I would love to see some of your work.”

“Only if I can see some of yours,” I bargained.

A smile flickered across his face. “Very well. It’s a deal.” I realized that my hand had been on his knee for too long. I pulled back, but settled deeper into the couch, leaning even closer to him as I did so. I was just so . . . comfortable. “So, what happened?”

He shook his head slowly, eyes moving to the far wall as he continued with the story. “Sean and I joined the United Irishmen, and I died a rebel in my first major battle. In the history books, it’s known as the Battle of Tubberneering. It was a success for the rebels, even if victory was short lived.” I swallowed hard, and looked down at my hand, picking at the seam on my jeans. “I’m so sorry,” I finally said, unsure of what else to say. “That must have been . . . awful.” I felt like an idiot for my poor choice of words. They were so inadequate.

He nodded once, still looking away. “I remember thinking

• • • K 231

h e a t h e r f r o s t K • • •

that I’d failed my family. My father, for dying after so recently joining the cause, my mother for not ever returning, and Sean—

for being unable to protect him like I promised I would.” I was burning to ask a question—one that I knew I shouldn’t.

It was perhaps the most personal question I could ever ask him.

But I couldn’t stop myself from whispering the words. “If you loved them so much . . . why would you choose to become a Guardian?” He didn’t speak for a long time. I was just opening my mouth to apologize for my rudeness when he finally spoke. “I became a Guardian to protect my brother—like I’d promised. I was with him every step of the war. I had to follow rules, of course—I could never show myself to him, or anyone I knew. That sort of thing is never allowed. But I got him through—at least until he and my parents had to flee for France. They were traitors, and would be killed if found in Ireland.”

He paused, and I could hear the clock ticking.

He shrugged. “And then I stopped watching them. It became too painful to watch my mother grow old and frail—to watch my father be driven insane by his patriotism. To see my brother get over my loss, and move on. To forget I ever existed.” Before I could stop myself, my hand was back on his knee.

He was looking toward me, and I tried to keep back the tears that were in my eyes. “You never forget those who die, Patrick. Just because you learn to laugh again doesn’t mean you never loved them.”

He watched my face, and when he spoke his voice cracked with emotion. “I know. It was still hard to watch them, though.” I rubbed his knee slowly, swallowing back my sudden tears. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

He took a deep breath, and then watched my hand, gently moving against his leg. “Thank you, Kate.” He whispered.

In the next moment I was hugging him, pulling him close as I tried to offer comfort for a pain I knew only too well.

A couple minutes passed with our arms around each other, 232 K • • •

• • • K s e e r s

and then Patrick forced a small laugh. “If your Grandparents walked in on us now . . .”

I laughed, and then pulled away, breaking the contact. “You’re right. That would have been hard to explain.” But he didn’t stand up, and neither did I.

I glanced down, catching sight of his leather bracelet. I’d been meaning to ask him about it, but I hadn’t yet had the opportunity.

“Um, I hope I don’t scare you off with the whole Inquisition thing, but, I was wondering—your bracelet? You wear it a lot, and I just wondered . . .” My voice trailed off, but he was smiling lightly.

“It has quite the past; like me, I guess. It was a gift.” I immediately pictured the face of a girl. That’s why I was really relieved when he continued before I could say something dumb, thus revealing my thoughts. That would have been beyond embarrassing.

“Toni gave it to me, when we first became partners. He knew that we’d been paired up so I could try and . . . reform him. He gave me this to prove that everyone is a thief at heart.” My brow furrowed. “How?”

He almost rolled his eyes. “The idiot stole it from someone. I still don’t know who, because he refuses to tell me. Since I couldn’t return it right away . . .” he shrugged. “I like to keep it nearby, just in case Toni cracks or I finally figure out where he could have gotten it from.”

“You’ll probably be waiting a long time for him to fess up.”

“You’re right, I’m sure. We’re already going on twenty-two, almost twenty-three years, so . . .” I laughed lowly, awed by the sheer craziness of my life.

He smiled at my reaction, but once things had gotten quiet again he rose to his feet. “It’s getting late. I’d better go.” I stood as well, though I didn’t want to see him leave, and we walked slowly out of the room. “Thanks for coming,” I said softly, glancing up the stairs as we walked past. I didn’t hear anything up there, so I imagined the twins had already zonked out.

• • • K 233

h e a t h e r f r o s t K • • •

He opened the front door and then turned back to face me, his voice quiet in the dark hall. “Thanks for letting me stay. I had a really great time.”

I nodded. “I needed that.”

“So did I.”

We stood in the silent entryway, just staring at each other. He was standing just inside the door, and the bright moonlight outlined him in a starry glow, emphasizing the silver in his aura. The darkness from the night outside added to his ethereal appearance, and I realized that I’d stopped breathing.

So had he.

He was watching me closely, his eyes warming every inch of me, though they never left mine. The air between us warmed and thickened. Intensified, and adapted.

He swallowed once, and then he was leaning toward me. And in that second, when I realized what he was going to do, I couldn’t think of one reason to stop him.

His lips pressed gently against mine, lingering sweetly before he pulled back slightly. A mere breath away he waited, pausing to see if I’d respond.

I did.

I took that final step closer, the one that would press our bodies together, and then I tilted my head back and I kissed him. Our lips brushed once—twice—and then his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer as he breathed my name.

I pushed my fingers into his hair, still kissing softly. My hands wandered over the planes of his face, and I felt his hand on my arm, then my shoulder, then the side of my neck. There he held me in place as his lips explored mine. When he broke away for air, I opened my eyes to see his face—catch his expression.

He looked awed. Anxious. Eager. Pleased. Unsure. Conflicted. Elated. And so many other nameless emotions.

I must have looked pretty similar, because he hesitated briefly before reaching up to caress my cheek with the fingertips of one 234 K • • •

• • • K s e e r s

hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered thinly, still slightly breathless. “I shouldn’t have done that. Forgive me.” And then—before I could think of something to say—he was releasing me, pulling away. He stepped out of the house, pulling the door closed behind him with a swift jerk. He’d moved more quickly than could be considered normal, almost like he was trying to run away from me without actually forcing his legs into a run.

I couldn’t move. I was rooted into place. The feel of his fingers against the skin on my face, his gentle lips on my sensitive mouth . . . they held me there. The memory of his kiss had honestly left me reeling.

I heard his car door open, then slam closed. Those sounds triggered my steps. I walked slowly into the living room, pushed back the edge of the curtain, and watched his car as he lurched away from the curb and drove quickly up the street.

I wondered if he was as changed by the experience as I was.

• • • K 235

Twenty-six

Aaron caled me late Sunday morning. We didn’t talk for long. I kept the same lie Grandma had unwittingly helped me craft—that I’d been at the cemetery. He tried to sound understanding after that, but I could still hear the hurt in his tone. For some reason, that made me mad. But I held my anger in check.

He asked me to go to the Fall Ball with him, the school dance that was taking place this Saturday. He apologized for not asking sooner, but I told him not to worry about it. We were a couple, after all—it wasn’t like I was surprised that we were going together.

I thought about the formal dresses I had, wondering which one I’d pick if I wasn’t able to get enough time to go shopping. I supposed that would somewhat depend on what happened with the Demon problem this week. My life lately was pretty unpredictable.

I finally said goodbye to Aaron and moved to the kitchen—

where the family had congregated so the twins could tell Grandma and Grandpa all about Patrick and the fun night we’d had.

Grandpa wanted to try watching a movie Patrick-style right away, and the twins were willing—though they doubted it would be as funny without Patrick and his loud laugh.