"There are stories of this, yes. Please. Continue."
I grasp a knife and line up my shot.
"Left hand this time,
" Mara says.
I switch hands.
Thigh for lust. Hit. Throat for malice. Hit. Knee jealousy. Hit. Ankle selfishness. Hit. Heart disappointment. Hit. Stomach feelings. Hit.
I step back, examining the latest outline of Seth's body, knives puncturing each key a
rea.
They all seem the same.
Lust. Jealousy. Malice. Disappointment. Selfishness. When it's time, how will I even know the difference?
"Seth is unlike the others," Mara finally says, breaking into my thoughts.
I glance over at her, surprised. "
In what ways?"
She brushes the strands of hair away from her face. "He's very protective of you. I've not seen anything like it."
"He's my Guardian. He's supposed to be protective of me," I say.
"Not like this. Typically, Guardians are very detached from
their charges. People relocate all the time. Accidents happen. They pass away. Your life on earth is a vapor to us. It's not in their best interest to become too involved emotionally with someone they're watching over. But his feelings for you are very st
rong."
"So . . . he loves me. So what?"
"As a collective, Guardians aren't capable of loving anyone."
I line up my next toss, eyeing the target. "Obviously they are."
"It's been known to happen," she admits. "Never successfully."
I stop, knife falling to
my side, and turn to face her. "What are you saying?"
"It doesn't need stating."
"This isn't going to work out," I confirm.
"But I think you already knew that." Her voice softens, eyes solemn.
"Says
who?
"
"You're aware the Council has a watchful eye on
both of you, right?"
"Is that supposed to scare me?"
"It should."
"It doesn’t."
"This isn't only about you. Seth is in as much danger. Every decision you've ever made, every thought you've ever had, every emotion you've ever felt, you
will
answer for."
"F
ine."
"You'll be held accountable and judged for your actions—both of you will." She speaks slowly, as if the concept is new and foreign to me. As if I couldn't possibly understand what I'm up against. What
we're
up against.
"Then I'll make sure my action
s are worth justifying," I reply.
"This isn't a
game
, Genesis!"
The knife flies from my hand, sailing through the air, spinning wildly. It hits Seth's forehead, gouging out a chunk of wood, sending it rocketing across the room.
"I never thought it was."
E
IGHTEEN
I sigh, stretching across the couch, head in Seth's lap. He runs his fingers through my hair, rhythmic, soothing.
"Are you okay?"
My eyes drift closed at his voice. "I should be asleep by now. It's like, I'm exhausted
physically, but my brain won't shut down." Sleep never seems to come when I need it most. And lately, not at all.
"We can turn the TV off," he suggests.
"No point," I mutter. I roll onto my back, looking up at him, watching him watch me.
"Are
you
okay?"
"
Why do you ask?"
"Because you're so quiet. Focused. To an unusual degree."
Seth's always had a commanding serious side, but he's growing more and more solemn by the day. Lost in a world I can't be part of.
"I just worry about you," he says.
"That's nothi
ng new."
"I know."
My eyes close again, and I concentrate on his fingers, brushing my hair. His gentle touch. His warmth.
A quick flash of light jars my body. I flinch, squinting at the ceiling, the light from the TV stinging my tired eyes. The pain linge
rs, and that dull ache I've grown accustomed to throbs behind them.
It's happening.
Again.
I
suck
in a breath and hold it. Waiting.
"Genesis?" I hear Seth's voice, but it's far away, distant. That sense of urgency washes
over me, leaving my skin tingling, a shiver skittering up my spine. A flicker of images. The ocean. A dark sky. The beach. A demon shadowed. Standing on the boardwalk.
"You don't have to do anything," Seth says, pulling me out of the vision, his voice draw
ing me back to him. "You don't have to listen."
I sit upright, more awake than I've been all day.
Seth eyes me warily. "What did you see?"
"A
Diabol
. On the boardwalk."
"What happened?"
I struggle to lure the images back into my head. To make sense of th
em. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Seth asks, not understanding.
"He was just . . . standing there, at the edge of the boardwalk. He wasn't doing anything."
"Listen to me," he says. His voice is insistent, eyes begging me not to surrender. "
It doesn't matter. If you didn't see anything, then there's no reason for you to worry about this. He's nobody."
I bite into my lower lip, nodding in agreement. Because I don't have to go after this one. Or anyone, for that matter. This demon wasn't doing
anything. He wasn't killing, or following, or. . . .
Another flash ignites my subconscious. And the demon moves slowly from the shadows, passing under one of the streetlamps, her sparkling, scarlet-colored hair glowing against the black night. My breath ca
tches in my throat.
"Waiting. She's here. She's waiting for me." I jump to my feet, stumbling over them as I rush to the kitchen. I open one of the top cabinets and grab my knives.
"What?" Seth is right behind me.
"I saw her. She's at the boardwalk."
"Gen
esis. You don't have to . . ."
"I'm ready for this, Seth. I can end this tonight. It'll be over, and we won't have to worry about her ever again. We can be normal."
His eyes search mine, waiting for me to waver, to change my mind. But everything I've done
up to this moment has prepared me for this. I can do this. "I'll warn the others," he says.
I pull a black, hooded sweatshirt over my head. The knives fit perfectly in the front pocket, but they're heavy, clanging every time I move.
"Remind me to tell Mara
I need a better system than this," I say, pulling open my car door.
"I'm anticipating that, after tonight, you'll never need them again." We climb in and I reverse out of my space, swinging wide around Carter's circular driveway. The neighborhood is quiet
, lights off in most houses, everyone asleep, or approaching it.
This is it. The end.
I cut across The Strip. There's not a car in sight. The inside of every store and restaurant is black. Parking lots vacant. It's surreal, actually. Not the South Marshall
I know. It's like some creepy otherworld. Like Seth's world, where everything is shadowed. The same, but different.
I turn onto the street running parallel to the ocean. The sky splits with lightning, and huge drops of rain pelt the windshield without w
arning, coming faster and faster. I press the brake, slowing the car, and flip my wipers on high, trying to maintain visibility. A crash of thunder rumbles.
Seth yells something, but I can't hear over the noise, the buckets of water pouring from the sky.
"
What?"
"Pull over!"
"No!" I reply.
Now that I'm here, on my way to meet Viola, my sense of purpose deepens. Everything since the night of that fire has pointed me in this direction. Getting to the boardwalk—to Viola—is the only thing that matters, and not
hing will stop me.
I continue down the street, cautious, cruising through puddles. The lamps overhead cast weird, pink streams of light, and rainwater gushes downhill, pouring into the sewers, carrying trash and debris. I pull into a parking space close to
the boardwalk, away from major light sources. The good thing about the rain is that anyone happening by will be too distracted to notice one girl in a
hoodie
and an abandoned car in a parking lot. But then, if this ends badly, they'll be too distracted to
notice one girl in a
hoodie
and an abandoned car in a parking lot.
I shut off the engine, forcing the thought out of my head.
"You should wait until this dies down," Seth says. Another flash of lightning, thunder right on top of it. Rain falls across th
e parking lot, and a low fog hangs suspended above the pavement.
"I can't wait any more," I tell him, reaching for the door handle. For the first time I notice my hands are shaking, cold.
Seth grabs my sleeve, holding me back, leaning across the console.
His hand wraps behind my neck, pulling me into him, crushing his lips against mine. We remain there, trapped in a single, arrested moment as rain pummels the windshield. When he finishes I'm left breathless, throat tight and dry.
"You've got this, all righ
t?" he assures me. "Aim for the throat. I'm right behind you."
I bite into my lower lip, nodding furiously.
I've got this. I do
.
I slip my hand inside my pocket, feeling the knives. They clink against each other.
"If something happens . . ." I begin.
"
I won't let anything happen to you," he interrupts.
"You can't intervene, Seth. Don't." His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing. "I will hate you if you do."
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he repeats.
"Please," I beg. "Will you promise me?"
His e
yes flit between me and the boardwalk and the ocean and back again.
Another crash of thunder.
He doesn't answer.
"Jesus," I mutter.
He is so damn obstinate.
I open the door, pushing my way into the night. The water is coming down fast, filling the lot qu
ickly. Puddles reach my ankles. I pull the hood over my head, and swipe the raindrops away from my face. Already my clothes are drenched, jeans plastered against my skin, making it difficult to move. I jog down the sidewalk, feeling the weight of the knive
s as they rattle in my sweatshirt.
The boardwalk is nothing like I remember. The last time I was here carnival rides filled the hollow and lit up the sky. Tonight it's isolated. Desolate.
I climb the steps, steering clear of the streetlamps as I move down
the wooden planks. A furious wind blows in off the ocean and I shiver, wet clothes clinging to my body, water squishing in my shoes. With every hammering step, each thump of my feet hitting the ground, I hear her name.
Viola. Viola. Viola. Viola
.
The sky
brightens, and the next crack of thunder makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. The boardwalk is empty. In my world, anyway. What I can't see is how many Guardians are veiled, hidden. How many
Diabols
are waiting. If
she's
waiting.
My hair is soaked ben
eath the hood, and rainwater seeps into my shirt, trickling down my stomach. The end of the boardwalk juts out into the ocean, surrounded by water. I reach the metal railing, the only thing separating me from the tumultuous sea. Waves crash against the pil
ings and rocks below.
It's perfect.
I turn and face the boardwalk.
Where are you? I saw you. I know you're here.
I grip my knife tighter, waiting for her to emerge from the shadows so I can finish this.
The rain slackens, falling in sheets instead of to
rrents, dripping down my sleeves and my hands, falling from the blade of my knife. I count seconds between the next flash of lightning until thunder rumbles, low and ominous. The ground beneath me shakes.
Come on.
But there's nothing. No signs of life, o
r any kind of movement, from one end of the walkway to the other. I pull the vision back into my mind, replaying it over and over, doubting myself. But I'm sure. This is it. This is where I saw her.
The icy wind shifts, slipping beneath my hood, blowing i
t back. I brush the rain off my face, blinking, feeling the drops collecting heavy along my lashes. Ice flows through my veins instead of blood. I shiver, feeling the chill as it ripples across my skin, lip quivering with cold.