Dark Star (27 page)

Except for the part about murdering teenage girls. I kept digging.

When Elspeth showed up, she interrupted my research, so I explained what I’d been doing. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find anything on my own, I told her, but I wanted to try. And I couldn’t do a reading. My Knowing wouldn’t be strong enough without him close by.

“Well, if you want to get near him,” Elspeth said, “just make Grandmother take you to the charity banquet on Wednesday. I have rehearsal that night, so I’m not going, but—”

“Tigue will be there?” My eyes snapped to hers. We were in my room, seated on the floor while I readied my cards.

She nodded. “He’ll be there. He always attends those sorts of things. Though you probably shouldn’t just go up to him and ask if he’s been bleeding kids around the Cities.”

I thought back. Esther had asked me to attend the banquet— as a proud member of the St. Croix family, she’d put it—but I’d managed to wriggle out of it by saying I had too much homework. She might get suspicious if I changed my mind, but I was willing to take the chance.

I didn’t want Elspeth to know just how intent on my plan I was, however, so I focused on the reading.

“What exactly are we looking for?” I asked.

She hesitated. Her long hair, normally loose about her shoulders, had been pulled back in a ponytail. It made her look younger. “I’ve had some things on my mind. I just want to know what you see.”

Elspeth was always easy to read, and now I could almost see the worry that hung about her, tinting the air. I gave her a slow nod as I began shuffling. I focused my Knowing on her: her usual lilting laughter and the frown she now wore; the memory of a glow in her veins; her favorite color—the blue-black of crow wings—and her love of buzzing bees.

Then I laid out the cards.

My card, followed by The Garden and The Desert. Iris and Elspeth, inversions of one another. But I didn’t need the cards to tell me that. I focused on the next three: Year of Famine. The Cutpurse. The Siren.

Elspeth was troubled, all right—but I wasn’t certain why. The images I saw were from years ago: The accident that had killed her parents. The screech of tires. A road turned silver by the rain.

“You were in the car?” I asked. “When your parents died?”

“Iris and I were,” she said.

Two more cards. The Blind Man. The Beggar. I saw the accident in a series of flashes. The wheels turned and skidded across the rain-slick road. Then the collision: Metal bending and shrieking, glass and bone shattering. Elspeth’s choking screams. Then Iris, blood on her forehead, her vision cut off.

And—something else watched.

I pressed the last card to the floor, then looked up at Elspeth. “Was a Harrower involved?”

She shook her head. “No … it was just an accident. I don’t remember a lot, but I think someone ran a red light.”

I eyed her cautiously. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know.” She rocked backward on the floor, pulling her knees up against her. “I’m worried about Iris.”

“What’s wrong? Was she hurt?” I’d spoken to Iris on the phone Wednesday evening—she’d wanted to make certain I was all right—but the conversation had been brief, and I hadn’t seen her since.

“She’s not hurt. But she killed a Harrower, didn’t she?”

Handily. It had been a little frightening to witness, but I didn’t mention that. I just said, “We got in its way. It attacked us.”

Elspeth’s voice was low, without a trace of her usual gaiety. “It wasn’t the first time she killed one,” she said. “Right after our parents died, something changed. She tried to hide it from everyone, but I knew. She went out at night, fighting Harrowers. She didn’t even bring any weapons—she’d use their own powers to kill them. And she’d come home injured. I think for a while she wanted to die.”

I recalled the sliver of memory I’d caught from Iris: A girl in the dark, shivering in the rain. A hand reaching toward her. It’s personal, she’d said, and then she’d drawn back.

“Wednesday was different,” I said slowly. “It was my fault, not Iris’s. She killed the demon because she had to.”

“You didn’t see anything, then?” Elspeth asked. Her tone was nervous. “In the reading?”

“I saw the accident.” And something watching.

She sighed softly. “She’s okay, then.”

“What exactly are you worried about?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned forward on her hands, her eyes gaining that faint, familiar glint. “What was it like? Beneath? I’ve never seen it.”

I stared at her. “Trust me, you don’t want to.”

“Iris wouldn’t tell me, either,” she lamented.

“How about this: it was dark, cold, and full of demons bent on killing me.” I shuddered, rubbing my hands along my arms. “They nearly did, too.”

Her little frown returned, and she nodded, touching my shoulder lightly. “I’m glad Leon was able to find you.”

That made two of us. Though I supposed it was Shane who had actually found me, and said as much to Elspeth.

She disagreed. “No, it would’ve had to be Leon.”

I gave her a blank look.

“Because of the connection,” she said.

“What connection?” I asked, feeling a trace of unease.

She regarded me curiously. “You haven’t figured it out yet, Audrey? Leon’s not a Guardian. He’s your Guardian.”

Elspeth’s revelation wasn’t just unexpected, it was incomprehensible.

Leon? My Guardian?

She had to be joking.

I stared at her. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Elspeth cocked her head at me. “It’s pretty obvious. He knows when you’re in danger. He completely freaks out if you’re in trouble. He goes out of his way to protect you. And there’s no other reason for your mom to have taken him in. An unfamiliar Guardian who just shows up out of nowhere? Lucy wouldn’t have taken a chance like that unless there was a reason. Morning Star doesn’t exactly need help.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Before I’d known about the Kin, it had seemed logical to me for Mom to take on another Guardian as her sidekick. But now I knew there were plenty of other Guardians in the Cities—and before Leon, Mom had always worked alone. “But … why would I have a Guardian?”

“Well,” Elspeth said, drumming her fingers against the floor, “Guardians are called to protect specific people when there’s a particular gift, or a particular danger. But Leon and your mom might not even know why he’s protecting you.”

If they did, they were not inclined toward sharing that information.

I frowned. Esther had told me that most of our people had some level of Knowing, though it was often latent, deeply buried. And I didn’t have any other abilities. I was hardly unique among the Kin. That seemed to rule out particular gifts.

Which might mean a particular danger.

I wondered if it had something to do with Verrick, the words he’d spoken as he stood with my mother atop Harlow Tower, the Astral Circle’s bleeding light pulsing around them. If Mom were wrong, if Verrick were still alive, he was certainly dangerous.

I shivered. That was not a pleasant thought.

But Leon, my Guardian—

My unease deepened. “So he was just—what, assigned to me? Why him?”

“No one knows how or why we’re called,” she said. “You know that.”

I thought of the night Leon had first appeared at the end of the driveway, the way he’d hopped off his motorcycle and stood in the clinging heat, watching us. His backpack had slumped to the ground at his feet. In the thin light of evening, he’d seemed just a little uncertain. As though he were as surprised to be there as we’d been to see him.

“Which means he didn’t have a choice in the matter,” I whispered.

It had never before occurred to me that Leon might not want to live as he did. That he might not have wanted to leave his home behind, to return to the world his parents had died in, to follow Mom into the dark of the Cities night after night.

“I wouldn’t look at it that way,” Elspeth said, her frown fixed to her face. “It’s how Kin life works. It’s part of who we are.”

“But he didn’t have a choice.”

“No, he didn’t,” she agreed.

Other memories surfaced: How Leon had come to my side the night Tink was injured, quickly and without question, as though I had called him there. How he’d known to come home the night the Harrower attacked me. The way he’d lifted me out of the car, making certain I wasn’t hurt.

How angry he sometimes seemed.

We don’t always get to choose what happens to us, he’d said.

I hadn’t understood, then, what he’d meant.

He didn’t want to be here. He had to be here. Because of me.

“He never told me,” I said. My face felt hot. “And neither did Mom.”

“I’m sure there’s a reason. You know Lucy—she didn’t even want you to be Kin.”

More secrets. More mysteries. More things kept hidden from me.

But somehow, this secret was worse than the others. I turned away from Elspeth as I felt my eyes sting.

“I’m sure there’s a reason,” she repeated.

I nodded, speaking softly. “There always is.”

***

I didn’t confront Leon. When I saw him in the hall that evening, before he and Mom headed out into the city, I turned and fled. I didn’t care if it was cowardly. I didn’t know how to act, what to feel. I wanted to ask why he was Guarding me, to yell at him for keeping it a secret—but mostly, I wanted to apologize. To apologize that he was stuck with me, that he had to fight, that he had to protect me. I tried, once, when I saw him the following day, but I couldn’t speak. My throat felt tight, my stomach knotted. Looking at him, I remembered the way he’d appeared Beneath, the concern in his eyes, how tightly he’d held me. Somehow, that made it even worse. For the second time in two days, I hurried in the other direction. Then I hid in my room until he left for the night.

Instead of brooding over Leon and what he hadn’t told me, I tried to focus on Tigue. I’d called Esther and said I wanted to go to the charity banquet after all. Though this included being coerced into two additional functions the following week, I agreed. Before she would allow me to accompany the family, however, she insisted I be “properly attired.” Then she sent me to a boutique where, she informed, me she’d already selected a few appropriate dresses. Since I didn’t think Esther would be an ideal shopping companion, I dragged my friends along with me.

“I wish I had a rich grandmother,” Tink sighed, watching me twirl as I tried on my dresses.

“I wish I had your dainty figure,” I said.

“I wish I’d never been talked into this,” Gideon lamented. He kept ducking out of sight whenever anyone walked past the store.

“Cheer up,” I told him. “We’ll go look at video games after this.”

He frowned. I no longer had to wear a bandage—but he’d noticed my stitches.

“I accidentally cut myself,” I said hastily, covering the wound with my hand. “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

Gideon didn’t answer. He just kept frowning.

I didn’t dwell on it. I was beginning to form a plan for the banquet. I didn’t need to get too near Tigue, I reasoned; I didn’t need to let him see me, or sense what I was doing. If I focused, if I tuned out everything else at the dinner, an answer might come to me.

Unfortunately, Wednesday brought with it other problems: I couldn’t keep avoiding Leon. Since the deaths of Anna and the two Guardians protecting her, Mom was being extra cautious. She’d insisted not only that Leon drive me to the banquet, but that he also attend. He didn’t seem too happy about the prospect. Since I still didn’t know what to say to him, I refrained from pointing out that, for once, he wouldn’t be overdressed.

The night of the banquet arrived with flurries.

“More snow,” I griped, mostly to cover how nervous I felt. Mom hadn’t clued in to my plan—which, granted, wasn’t much of a plan beyond hoping I might get some glimmer of Knowing off Tigue—but I felt a little guilty. Not that I believed it would be particularly dangerous. According to Elspeth, Tigue frequently attended fundraisers and charity functions, and if he were in the habit of killing people during dinner, I doubted they’d keep inviting him. But that didn’t mean Mom wouldn’t build me a dungeon if she knew what I was up to.

As we drove toward the country club where the dinner was being held, the sky was low and gray, the stars neatly tucked behind a dense blanket of clouds. There was an eerie hush over the highways. Everything felt sleepy and quiet. After Leon parked, I sat soundless, studying our surroundings. Snow-covered trees jutted up out of the darkness. Gazing out across the grounds, I imagined how it must look in spring, vivid green and vibrant. Now, the blank white seemed stark and depressing.

I tugged my dress coat tightly around me. Beneath it, I wore a deep blue evening gown and a string of pearls Esther had loaned me.

My grandparents waited inside with Iris. The reception would be followed by dinner, which would be followed by dancing, Esther told me; I kept close to her side as she began introductions. A couple of other Kin were in attendance, and they smiled at me as we mingled, though I caught the haunting worry that lingered behind their eyes. I didn’t see Patrick Tigue.

At dinner I did my best not to speak while chewing, and made certain I used each of my forks correctly. Iris sat across from me, smiling softly. She looked tired, and there was a light bruise along the slope of her shoulder. The fight with the demon, I guessed; she wasn’t as quick to heal as Guardians were. Her necklace caught the light, a glimmer against her skin that didn’t quite fit with the elegant cut of her rose-colored dress.

I’d been dreading the dancing afterward, but it proved to be less of an ordeal than I’d feared. Most of the men and women I’d been introduced to were a blur of smiles and handshakes, but a few stuck in my mind, and I attached names to faces as I watched couples whirl. Though I searched the crowd, I couldn’t find Tigue among them. I danced twice with my grandfather Charles, who told me fondly how proud he was. When I caught her eye, Esther gave me a short nod and a faint smile, which I took for approval.

Leon, I noticed, stood alone. He wasn’t mingling with the other guests, though one or two of the Kin guests paused to greet him. He wasn’t socializing; he wasn’t dancing. He was Guarding. I felt a pang of guilt, recalling the night he’d tagged along to the Drought and Deluge. He’d told me he could think of any number of things he’d rather be doing—and now, here he was, stuck watching over me. Again.