The Guardian (Callista Ryan Series) (41 page)

BOOK: The Guardian (Callista Ryan Series)
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“I told him he couldn’t hurt you,” Alex replied evenly.

             
“He wouldn’t have,” Callie said. She turned to Zeke so that he would validate her words, but he shrugged self-consciously.

             
“I might have been about to rough her up a
little
,” Zeke confessed. “But nothing too bad. She would have walked away from it.”

             
Alex shook his head. “You break a hair on her head, Zeke, and we will have words. Understood?”

             

Alex
,” Callie protested.

             
“C’mon, man, this is the point—“

             
“No!” Alex shouted, his face suddenly a mask of power and rage. He spun around so that his whole body faced Zeke. “If this
is
necessary, which it isn’t in any sense other than the precautionary, then it will be carried out in an instructive manner.
She is not immortal
, Zeke! Don’t you understand?”

             
Zeke held up his palms. “Okay, okay,” he said, placating. “Take it easy. I’ll play nice.”

             
Alex’s face remained contorted for another minute. He seemed frozen in his anger, unsure how to surface from it. Callie took a few slow steps towards him.

             
“Hey,” she whispered, taking his balled fist in both her hands and uncurling his fingers. She filled his palm with her hand, and with her other she rubbed small circles on his forearm. “I’m okay,” she murmured. “I’m fine.”

             
Alex blinked, and then looked down at her. His face smoothed, his eyes lost the element of fire. But even as he nodded at her, she could tell something wasn’t right. Something had changed.

             
“Of course,” he said, his voice now under control. Turning to Zeke, he said, “I apologize. I overreacted.”

             
“That’s okay, buddy,” Zeke said. “But maybe you should get lost for the rest of this—“

             
“No,” Alex said. “No, there will be no more. Training is over for the day.”

             
“Alex, really, it’s okay—“ Callie said.

             
“It is over,” Alex said definitely.

             
Callie turned to look at Zeke. He exhaled loudly, but nodded at her. They both knew that Alex shouldn’t have been there; now they would have to wait until the next session, when Alex wasn’t around, to finish this training.

             
“Okay,” she said, twining her fingers with his. “Let’s go home.”

             
Alex swallowed, and Callie could tell that there were serious thoughts at play in his mind. She didn’t think that she should ask him to share them with her just yet, though. Whatever he was thinking about, it was too heavy for him to process, let alone admit. And so, as he picked her up gingerly and carried her back to his cottage, she tried to get inside of his memory to see what he was thinking about. But there was a blockage that prevented her from entering his mind, and she realized that he wasn’t remembering anything. He was planning something.

             
When he dropped her off on the doorstep, she expected that he would follow her inside. But there were no sounds behind her as she walked into the living room, and when she turned around to see where he was, he was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Two

Exiled

 

              Later that night
,
Callie was pacing for the second consecutive hour across the cottage. She couldn’t believe that he had just left like that without saying a word, or that he had been gone now for what was going on five hours.

             
At first she hadn’t thought much about his disappearing act. She had figured he’d needed to cool off for a time before returning to the cottage. But that had been alright; she’d needed some alone time, also. She was still a little upset with him for breaking up the training session. And so she had picked up his copy of
Les Miserables
and had begun to read from it.

             
She had stopped reading and slapped the book closed when she got to the part at which Ėponine died upon saving Marius, claiming that she had been a little in love with him the whole time. By that point, Alex had been gone for an hour and a half, and she had begun to be worried.

             
By the third hour, she had begun imagining the horrible things that could have happened to him. Surely he wouldn’t have stayed away this long by choice, and without an explanation. He wouldn’t have intentionally worried Callie, no matter how irritated they were with each other.

             
By the fourth, Callie had resorted to pacing, as her nervous energy had wound her into a tight bundle of nerves. And now, at the fifth, Callie was nearly convinced that he was lying dead somewhere, under a tree or at the bottom of the falls.

             
Suddenly, a flutter of leaves sounded outside of the cottage, and Callie ran to the living room, expecting to find Alex. She felt a surge of relief when she thought that he had returned; but all the worry that she’d been hoarding throughout the day had begun to turn to anger that he had disappeared.

             
Mid-transition of emotions, however, Callie stopped short. It was not Alex who stood now in the living room, but Shay.

             
“Shay?” Callie asked. “What are you doing here? Where is Alex?”
              The tiny woman, looking flustered and annoyed, turned to Callie, her hands on her hips. “Apparently, I am here to tell you to stop worrying,” she said, her kitten-like irritation almost comical. Shay threw up her hands and walked further into the living room. “Alex came to my cottage and
insisted
that I come speak with you, check to make sure that you are alright. I kept telling him that I was on the verge of connecting the genetic component of obesity with the heredity of—“

             
“Shay,” Callie said, cutting her off when she saw that the woman was about to explain centuries of medical research to her. “What did Alex say?”

             
Shay breathed a suffering sigh and sank onto the couch. “He told me that I was needed here, that you would be worrying about him, and that I should tell you to relax.”

             
“Why, where is he? Why didn’t he come tell me himself?” Callie asked, panic welling once more within her. Something was wrong.

             
Shay shrugged. “He returned to Emeric’s house without another word. Is my duty fulfilled?” she asked, obviously eager to resume her research.

             
Callie’s mind was racing. So he
was
planning something. He had gone to Emeric’s house without a word to her, without alerting her to the path of his thoughts. Was he conjuring up a plan that had to do with her, then?
              “Not quite,” Callie said, walking over to the tiny woman and hauling her off of the couch by grasping her wrists. “You have to take me to Emeric’s.”

             
Shay let out a squawk of indignation. “That was never part of the instructions. And must I remind
everyone
—I am not a protector! I am a Healer. I do not run around on missions upon command.”

             
“Shay, please?” Callie asked, letting some of her fear slip into the words. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but Alex is up to something.”

             
“So?” Shay asked. “He is always up to something. It’s part of his job. Unlike me. None of this is part of my—“

             
“Yeah, Shay, I know. But please; you’re my friend. Just do me this favor?” Callie asked.

             
Shay pursed her lips. She didn’t look happy about it, but she finally rolled her eyes in relent. “It will take less of my time to transport you than to argue with you,” she said, and lifted Callie into her arms.

             
Callie felt sick as Shay flew through the canopy; she didn’t know why, but she was certain that whatever Alex was doing, it wouldn’t end well. She couldn’t explain the odd connection between them which alerted her to the fact that he was nervous about whatever he was planning, but she
knew
that he was already regretting what he was about to do. And she had to get to Emeric’s cottage and stop him.

             
When Shay and she arrived, Callie found Zeke, Alex, and Emeric gathered around the flaming hearth, their voices lowered as they spoke in somber tones. They didn’t hear Callie and Shay walk in, and for a moment, Callie listened to their conversation.

             
“…restructuring after the battle; there may not be room for her,” Emeric murmured.

             
“We will make room, then,” Alex said. “Her absence will only be temporary.”

             
“How do you even know she will want to come back?” Zeke asked.

             
“Know who will want to come back?” Callie asked, her stomach sinking even as she realized whom they were talking about.

             
The three men turned at the newcomer. Shay walked into the kitchen and poured herself a large drink; Callie stood in the doorway, stunned at what she was hearing.

             
“Alex?” she asked, taking a few steps into the room, positioning herself just outside of the circle they made. “What are you talking about?”

             
Alex’s face was stony. Zeke shuffled uncomfortably. Only Emeric would reply.

             
“Callista, Alexander has brought an interesting development to my attention,” Emeric said, clearing his throat in the way he did, Callie was coming to know, whenever he spoke in an official manner.

             
“Which is what?” Callie asked, glancing again at Alex. But he would not meet her eyes. He continued to stare at the fire, his face burning with the reflected light of the flames.

             
“Cal, we know how good a fighter you are,” Zeke cut in. “This isn’t about what happened today, it’s about—“

             
“No, actually it is,” Emeric said. “Today, when he observed your training, Alexander realized that your skill as a Perceiver would be your downfall in the coming war. He had the foresight to conclude that no matter how skilled at combat you may be, the fact that the Sirens know of your particular talent means that you will be the primary target when they infiltrate the forest.”

             
“Meaning what?” Callie asked. “So they come at me. Isn’t that what we want? I’ll distract them, you guys…fight,” she said, feeling uncomfortable at the thought of death. “I don’t see a problem.”

             
“The problem is that you’re Michael and they’re double teaming you,” Zeke said. “Only instead of two guys, you’ve got a couple hundred coming at you, and all they want is your head on a platter.”

             
Alex’s face twitched. Emeric said, “No need for the dramatics, Zeke.”

             
“Alex?” Callie asked again. He may as well have been deaf to her.

             
“Alexander understood that your ability to be useful in this battle will be as limited as your ability to survive it. Therefore, if you are killed early on, you will be of no use to us. He believes that it would be more humane to spare you, as your ability to help us would be limited,” Emeric continued clinically.

             
“Translation: we might as well send you packing while you still have a pulse,” Zeke finished.

             
“But….” Callie said, unable to find the words to voice her shock and sense of betrayal.

             
“Look at it as paid leave,” Zeke said. “You can get out of this thing safe, knowing that you would have helped if you could have.”

             
His words didn’t condemn her for a coward; rather, she sensed that he was comforted she was getting out of the canopy, trying to give her a reason to go. They had only known each other for a few days, but they had come to understand each other. In time, they would have been friends.

             
“I—no,” Callie said. “No, I can’t leave. If I leave now, then what the hell have I been sticking around for? I’m here to help. I’m going to help. That’s the end of it.”

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