My entire body is percussion. All beating organs and thrumming nerves. Is he trying to distract me?
And then it’s over. Joshua turns and pulls my arms around his neck. Even dripping wet, he smells of autumn—cedar sprinkled with cinnamon and cloves. “Trust me. Okay?”
Mom’s words. I let my muscles relax. Rest my head against his back and take in his heartbeat’s steady rhythm. My own pulse slows to match. A single, traitorous sob escapes. Joshua’s shoulders tense. He felt it. Does he care?
More than you know, sweetheart.
Yet another assurance of Mom’s I can’t believe. Since that night I’ve done my best to pack all our memories together in a box marked Do Not Open—a box I stuffed away in the attic of my emotional storage unit. Being close to him makes me want to peek inside that box, sort through those times. Examine them. What went wrong?
“How’d you find me, anyway? I dropped my phone back at the party.”
“This was the most likely Threshold they’d use.” Before I can ask what a Threshold is, he adds, “There’s also a tracking device implanted in the necklace I gave you. Insurance. In case something happened to your phone.” He clears his throat. “You can let go now.” His voice, deep and husky, rumbles through his chest.
I release my grip, and we walk the few feet to the shore. I cover the pendant resting against my collarbone with my palm. Not a gift, then. Part of his job. Another ruse. Another lie. Was any of it real?
When I’m standing ashore, drenched inside and out, I glance at the water. It’s still. Ordinary. No arrows. No battle raging beneath the surface.
Nothing aside from the silent procession accompanying the second funeral I’ve attended this week.
This is the longest silence in the history of long silences.
Joshua busies himself with what could be a kindergarten construction project. A leaning stack of peanut butter sandwiches tops my kitchen island. He adds slice after slice of bread, spreading the tan paste like mortar over spongy white bricks.
I run a brush through my damp hair, water droplets pelting the floor. The wound on my arm has been properly bandaged, Makai’s handkerchief tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. “Care to explain?” I try to hide the anger shading my voice. If Joshua hadn’t intervened, if I’d had one more second, maybe Mom would be standing here too.
He doesn’t look up. “When we’re safe.”
Why won’t he look at me? He goes from summer to winter as often as Mom runs out of pencils. “We’re not safe now?” And what about Mom? What about her safety?
He stops midspread. The corner of his mouth twitches. “No.”
The doorbell rings. Neither of us moves. All the lamps in the house are off, per Joshua’s instructions. Only the range light under the microwave glows pale gold.
Bing-bong.
He circumvents the island and pauses when he reaches me. “Get down on the floor. Don’t move until I come for you.”
I nod, lower myself to the refinished wood. I’ve never seen him so serious, so focused. This may be just a job to him, but he’s good at it.
Every step he takes echoes through the brownstone. The sounds give his positions away, each call unique. One floorboard pops this way, another protests that way. When he’s by the door, I picture him peeking out the window to see if the person on the other side is friend or foe. The door creaks open. Must be safe to reappear.
“I cannot believe you’d be so careless as to let her out of your sight like that. You know better than anyone what her life is worth.” Makai is back. And he’s pacing. His boots squeak as he clunks across the foyer.
“I made a mistake. I didn’t want to force her into the middle of all this. It’s not her battle to fight.”
Makai emits a cynical laugh. “Like the Void it isn’t.”
I may have just developed a heart murmur. Battle? Void? “Okay, what on earth is going on here?” I enter the foyer.
Joshua’s jaw tightens. “I thought I told you to stay put.”
“I’m not a child. I don’t need you to protect me.” Except I so do, but I’ll never admit it.
Makai stops midstride and offers a discreet bow. “Eliyana. I don’t believe we’ve been formerly introduced. I’m Makai Archer, Commander of the Guardians. I’ve watched over you and your mother since just after you were born.”
His greeting is so formal I almost curtsy. “It’s just El. ” I draw his handkerchief from my pocket. It’s wrinkled and stained. Maybe he won’t want it back.
Makai accepts the damaged cloth, rubs it between his thumb and forefinger, before stowing it inside his coat. His expression sinks from angry to solemn. “I apologize we couldn’t meet under better circumstances. I did what I could for your mother.” His eyes glow, the orangey-brown color of cello wood. “I followed Crowe’s men through the Forest of Night, but I had to turn back. I vowed I would always protect you, first and foremost.” Why doesn’t he sound too happy about that arrangement?
I shake my head. Just listening hurts. “I have no idea what you just said.”
Makai looks at Joshua. “You haven’t told her?”
Joshua shrugs. “I was getting to it. There hasn’t exactly been a good time—”
“Eliyana, Joshua is your personal Guardian. He came here to assist me in protecting you when we discovered Crowe might have gotten a tip as to your existence.”
Three years? Joshua has been my Guardian for—I can’t even.
“The situation has escalated recently. We believe someone on this side discovered your location and has been sending him information since.”
I shake my head again. “English please. Who is Jasyn Crowe? Where’s my mom, and why was I led to believe she was dead? What do you mean by ‘this side,’ and why does this thing”—I point to my birthmark—“make me a target?”
“These are all very good questions,” Makai says. “But they have to wait. We must get you to the Haven before Crowe discovers you are not the one his men apprehended.”
Oh my—“Mom. She took my sweatshirt. They think she’s me.”
“Soulless.” Joshua nearly vomits the word. “Vile, emotionless creatures, but too focused on themselves to see past their own noses.”
“My best guess,” Makai continues, “is Crowe faked Elizabeth’s death to throw us off. He wants you alone and vulnerable. Elizabeth escaped because she knew he would send his men for you next. She wouldn’t have been able to do it on her own. Crowe’s castle is swarming with guards, which means your mother has an ally on the inside—good news for us.”
“How do you know my mom?” The question bursts free before I can stop it. “Are you my dad?”
Makai scratches his cheek. “No. I am not your father, but I knew him.”
Finally, some answers. “Who is he? Can you take me to him?” Maybe he can help us.
He frowns. “I said I knew him. I do not anymore.”
“We really need to get going.”
No way. Ignoring Joshua’s interruption, I plant my feet, place my hands on my hips. “I’m not going anywhere until one of you gives me a straight answer.”
Makai sighs. “Your father’s name was Tiernan Archer. He was my younger brother.”
Was. I grieve inwardly for the man I never knew—never will know. “What happened to him?”