Revelation (The Guardian Series Book 3) Read online

  “Why?” I ask as I place my hand over my stomach protectively.

  “Because,” Edwin says, “a child like yours, born of a guardian and sprite, could quite simply change the world. We have to keep you and the baby safe.”

  We’re all silent for a moment as Edwin’s words sink in.

  “You mean from Avestan? He’ll go after an innocent child?” I ask.

  “I’m saying that when Avestan finds out it will be dangerous, and if he connects the baby to Alexander he’ll do everything in his power to make sure your child is never born.”

  As Edwin’s words sink in, I look at Alexander.

  “I also fear,” Edwin adds, “that by attacking Malentus and stirring up that corner of the world we may have won the battle only to lose the war. And now, with a child in the mix, the stakes are higher.”

  His words hang heavy in the air between us.

  “But if Alexander hadn’t attacked Malentus,” I say, “I might not have been able to save Justin from Avestan. And the fact that he’s weakened now—because of what Alexander did—doesn’t that help us?”

  “For now,” Edwin says, “but Avestan has gone to ground, in Nusquam. The dark guardians gain power from the pain and despair that permeates that realm. He knows Alexander can’t follow him there and it will give him the time he needs to recover.”

  “Did you know that he was in Nusquam?” I ask Alexander. “That means you can’t get to him before he gains his strength back—”

  “It’s all right,” he says, putting up his hand reassuringly. “There’s always another plan. If there’s a silver lining, Avestan should be recovering for months. It will buy us some time, maybe even until the baby is born if we’re lucky.”

  “And I suppose you’re already formulating this new plan?” I’m unable to hold back a trace of a smile as I say the words. Alexander always has a plan. For everything.

  Alexander smiles back. “Yes. I’m working on it.”

  “What about Alenna?” I ask. Alenna’s conversion to the dark side still has me staggering. Reconciling the Alenna I knew—whose energy always seemed positive—with the woman who knocked me out and tossed me into the ocean to die has been difficult, to say the least. The image of her kissing Avestan is still seared in my mind because it shocked me so thoroughly.

  “Presumably she’s with Avestan,” Edwin replies. “We don’t know for sure.”

  “Was Alenna working against us all along?” I ask. “I never sensed it.”

  “She misled us all, Declan,” Edwin answers. “Dark energy is powerful. I trusted her implicitly. We all did.”

  “But when did she turn?” For some reason it’s important to me to identify exactly when and where my instincts went wrong.

  “We can’t know for certain,” Edwin says.

  “In hindsight,” Alexander replies, “I think she may have been wavering when I came back to San Mar and she arranged for us to be seen together by Avestan. She forced the kiss and made more of it than I wanted. Afterwards she asked if there was anything left between us. She said she couldn’t understand why I would want to be with a mortal, or even a sprite, over a fellow guardian. I sense now that maybe she was making a final effort before succumbing to Avestan.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “What I’d said before,” Alexander answers, meeting my eyes. “That the love I have with her is a great love, but of friendship. And that I was sorry but I’m in love with you. And that someday she’d experience the same kind of spark we have together and she’d understand.”

  I nod. I know I should be angry—I mean, the woman tried to take my boyfriend away, not to mention the fact that she also tried to kill me—but somehow the strongest feeling I have, at the apex of my many stacked emotions, is sadness. I feel sorry for the fact that she would seek love and acceptance from someone so dark and violent as Avestan. How can she want to be with the man who brutally murdered her in her last life? How can she mistake that for love?

  “I still can’t conceive that if she couldn’t be with you, she could find comfort with Avestan,” I say, “and that she’s a fallen guardian.”

  Edwin nods. “It was a great loss to our side. We all feel it keenly.” He looks over at Alexander.

  “Did Alexander tell you about Avestan’s connection to me?” I ask Edwin.

  “Yes, I was terribly sorry, Declan, to hear that Malentus had a hand in your father’s death.”

  “He said there was another part to it,” I say. “That the two parts intersected.”

  Edwin nods. “Alexander and I have been looking into it.”

  “Have you found anything?”

  “Nothing concrete,” Alexander replies. He glances over at Edwin.

  “We fear the connection further involves Malentus,” Edwin says, “which would be deeply unfortunate.”

  I think of the long, angry scar on Alexander’s side, a mark from Malentus, and the older scar on Alexander’s temple by his left eye, which he keeps as a reminder of Avestan, his own brother, turning against him. The fact that I have a connection to both of the dark guardians who wounded Alexander so deeply is markedly painful.

  The thought of either of them coming back to exact their revenge on me, Alexander, and our baby sends a cold chill through my body. One that I know I’ll never be fully rid of unless somehow Alexander’s new plan—whatever it is—eliminates them from our lives.

  For good.

  Chapter Four

  Um, mom, I know you always told me to use protection if I was sexually active, but …

  Uh, mom, I know I just started school but I don’t think what I’m about to tell you will affect my studies or getting my degree …

  Uh, mom, I know Alexander and I just got back together recently, but you know how much we love each other and we belong together …

  Uh, mom, you know how I’ve always been a responsible girl? I still am, but I have some news …

  Um, hey mom, you know how you always said you looked forward to being a grandmother someday?

  I’m practicing in the mirror what I’m going to say to my mom. I suggested to Alexander that I tell my mom first and then we can all talk together later because I thought she’d feel less blindsided that way. But I have no idea how best to broach the subject. I can’t exactly just pop out with, ‘Guess what, mom? I’m pregnant.’ Or maybe that is the way to do it—just rip off the ol’ band-aid and boom, it’s done.

  My mom loves Alexander, no question there. But she’s been on the sidelines watching us break up twice in the last year, with no decent explanation from me either time. I suspect she chalked it up to stupidly hormonal, overly dramatic teenager stuff but I never was really like that before so maybe she just thought I was crazy.

  At any rate, she has no idea that we didn’t want to break up, we had to. Because we were fighting dark angels out to destroy us both and tip the world into darkness.

  Which sounds totally looney tunes when you say it out loud and I can never tell her anything like that or she’ll feel compelled to put me on anti-psychotic meds. So what’s a girl to do?

  I take a deep breath. I’ve been a responsible person my entire life. And my mom loves me. Those are basically my two main selling points to fall back on.

  Plus the fact that my mom loves babies. So that’s three main selling points, right?

  Sure, keep telling yourself that, teen mom.

  Oh God, I’m starting to feel faint. I have no idea how this will go.

  I take a deep breath and head downstairs.

  “You didn’t use protection?!” My mom’s voice is laced with incredulity. Perhaps the rip-off-the-band-aid approach was not the best choice, in retrospect.

  “We were protected,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “but it didn’t work.” Technically true.

  My mom is silent as she stares at me for a long moment.

  Please don’t ask what kind of protection, I silently pray to myself over and over. What the heck could I say? Angels? Please do
n’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t ask … I don’t want to lie.

  She sits down and rests her hands on the kitchen table and looks down at them. After another long moment she looks up at me again. “Declan, you and Alexander just got back together.”

  “I know, mom. But we’re together for good now. Alexander and I love each other.” I can hear how crazy teenager-y this all sounds as the words trip out of my mouth. If Alexander wasn’t an angel, I’d wonder about my sanity, too. Finishing college first—and both of us having full-time jobs—would have been a measurably wiser choice before having children. I’m not too young to see it from my mom’s objectively adult standpoint, but I can’t explain it to her.

  “You’ve only known Alexander a year and you’ve broken up twice in that time,” she says quietly. “And you never really explained to me why … not entirely anyway.”

  I nod but don’t say anything, which I’m sure is frustrating and befuddling to her. We’ve always been close. I’m sorry I can’t explain, mom, because if I do you’ll think I’m a complete nutter, as Alexander would say.

  She meets my eyes. “I won’t lie and say I don’t like Alexander. I do. Very much. He’s a nice boy with very kind eyes. He reminds me of your father in a lot of ways.”

  My heart feels hopeful. Maybe she’s coming around?

  “Have you told him?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “Alexander’s happy. Thrilled, actually.”

  “So you’ll raise the baby together?”

  “Yes, of course mom, we love each other. Alexander is a good man.”

  She nods. “Do you want to marry him?”

  Her question takes me by surprise. I honestly hadn’t even thought about marriage and that’s a wonder in itself. Should I have thought about it? Alexander and I haven’t discussed it. Would I marry him? Yes. Absolutely. No question. But I almost feel as though, with the connection we share, marriage is superfluous. Just a slip of paper. We’re already married to each other in the way that matters to me—that string of light that connects our hearts and the way we feel when we’re together, like two souls connecting just so.

  “We haven’t talked about that yet,” I say, “but yes, I love Alexander. I want to be with him forever, mom.” I meet her eyes and I can tell that she sees the deep truth of how I feel. The same way she felt about my dad.

  She nods, her eyes getting a little misty. “You’ll have to make this work with your schoolwork,” she says, attempting to sound strict again but I sense that I may have won her over. “You can’t let it get in the way of attaining your degree.”

  I nod. “I know, mom. I feel the same. I’ll make it work. You know I’m responsible.” I can’t resist throwing that last bit in, my final ace in the hole.

  She’s silent again for a long moment as she searches my eyes. Then she takes a deep breath and stands up. “Then if you’re happy, I’m happy. There are still plenty of details to work through but I can’t say I’m not thrilled at the thought of having a grandchild to dote over.” She smiles and walks over to where I’m standing at the kitchen island and gives me a hug and I can tell by the way she holds me and the love that I feel from her that she meant every word she said. The fact that she didn’t say something like, “We’ll make the best of it,” as if it was some terrible burden, means a lot to me. She’s happy for me, and even thrilled a little for herself, and that takes an enormous weight off my heart.

  “Thanks, mom,” I say as I hug her back just as tightly. “I’m so glad you’re with me on this.”

  She holds me by the shoulders and meets my eyes. “I’m always with you,” she says with a fierceness only a mother can deliver. “No matter what. Your mom always has your back.”

  I smile and my eyes get watery and a lump forms in my throat. “Thanks, mom.”

  “I just can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother … my baby is having a baby,” she says with amazement as she places her hand on my stomach. “How far along are you?”

  “A little over six weeks.”

  “Have you already been to the doctor?”

  I nod.

  “Okay, we need to get you on prenatal vitamins and make a list of what you can and can’t eat … oh, and we should get you that book, What to Expect When you’re Expecting … and we’ll need to start a registry of things you’ll need for the baby and …”

  And with that, my mom has not only accepted my news, she’s off and running doing what she does best: taking good care of everyone in her sunshiny orbit.

  Chapter Five

  I’m sitting on the outside deck at A-plus Coffee on the UCSM campus waiting for Liz and Finn. The campus is only a two-mile bike ride from my house but it’s up on a hill with sweeping views of San Mar all the way to the ocean. I take a deep breath, drinking in the picture-perfect vista laid out in front of me. I love it here. Not just for the atmosphere but because I can finally call myself a college student, which, I must admit, is pretty great. I feel like a real adult finally. My world feels so much bigger than it ever did in high school. Bigger and full of possibility.

  “Hey, look who’s here,” says a voice behind me.

  I turn around to see Justin Wright, my friend and former co-worker at Fields and Morris L.L.C. This is only the second time I’ve seen him since we were both nearly killed by Avestan and Alenna during our supposedly innocent whale watching trip with Burt Fields—who turned out to be a cold-blooded murderer himself. Of course Justin has no memory of any of it, thank God. I almost envy him.

  “Justin,” I say with surprise. “How are you?”

  He sits down with his coffee. “I’m good,” he says with a nod. “Hey, I’ve been wanting to talk with you. Have you heard about everything that’s been going on at Fields and Morris?”

  He’s referring to all the articles that have been in the local newspaper about the embezzlement fraud discovered after Burt Fields’ accidental death out on the firm’s yacht. Justin doesn’t realize that I’m the one who set the whole thing in motion by sending the evidence of the fraud to the other law partners anonymously.

  “I know,” I say, “it’s been all over the news.”

  “Mr. Fields seemed like a decent guy. It’s hard to believe.”

  “I guess you never know about people,” I say.

  He nods. “What’s that saying? Who knows what darkness lies in the hearts of men?”

  What an understatement. The truth of his words strikes me hard, yet again. I think about Alenna falling to be with Avestan, and I can’t help thinking about Burt also, and how he comforted our family after my dad’s death. Now I realize that either guilt was driving him or, worse, it was cold calculation meant to deflect any suspicion, or maybe a way to search our house for my dad’s files. No matter what, it sickens me. I’ve run the facts through endlessly in my mind and I decided not to tell my mom the whole truth. I want to shield her from the fury and anguish that the knowledge brings. Finding out her beloved husband spent his last moments fighting for his life against a friend who betrayed him would only bring fresh pain at a time when she finally seems to be healing. I know that all too well. And the hard truth is, nothing can be done about it anyway. They’re both gone now and we can’t go back in time. As desperately as I’d like to.

  “So how do you like college so far?” Justin asks.

  “I love it,” I say, happy to distract myself with a more pleasant topic. “It’s so much better than high school. I love everything about it.”

  He laughs. “Most people are complaining about the workload this many weeks in.”

  I shake my head. “Nah, I can handle the work. But riding my bike up and down all these ginormous hills is what’s killing me. I thought I was in good shape but maybe I need a bike with more gears.” I love my beach cruiser but it only has three gears, a limitation I never even noticed was a problem until now.

  “Give it another month,” he says with a smile. “Your butt will be granite.”

  I laugh.

  “You
still back with the sweet boyfriend?” he asks.

  “Yes. Alexander goes to school here now, too.”

  He nods. “I’m seeing someone new.”

  “You are? That’s great.”

  “Her name is Sara and believe it or not she likes Lucky Charms for dinner.”

  “She’s lying,” I laugh. “Because she likes you.”

  “Well, either she likes Lucky Charms or she likes me enough to lie about it. Either way I think I’m good.” He flashes a broad smile.

  I chuckle. “So what else have you been up t—”

  “There she is.” I hear Liz’s voice over my right shoulder and I turn to see her and Finn walking toward us, holding hands. Liz’s hair is in two dark mini buns pinned on either side of the top of her head like cute panda ears. Her bangs, which used to be bright pink, are now a cool shade of blue that suits her just as well. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a t-shirt that says “SOME CRAPPY BAND” in giant block letters. Finn looks cute, as usual, in jeans, a t-shirt and his favorite Volcom hoodie, which he once told me he likes to wear because “it’s like a blanket you can wear outside the house.” His tousled brown hair is partially covering his boyish face and I can’t help noticing that it looks artfully mussed, which is hysterical because I know for a fact it’s the result of him getting out of the shower and doing absolutely nothing to it. He insists that if you get a decent haircut on a regular schedule, hair grooming products beyond shampoo and conditioner are an unnecessary marketing scam. I don’t think he even combs it other than running his fingers through it. One of the reasons he’s so loyal to his hairdresser, a nice lady named Marcella, is because she told him he’s right—for his hair, anyway. He has an appointment scheduled on Marcella’s books every six weeks into perpetuity.

  I make introductions when they arrive at our table and Justin and Liz remind me that they met once over the summer when she picked me up from work. The deck is crowded with people and there are only three chairs so Justin stands up to relinquish his. “I have to go to class anyway,” he says. “But it was nice meeting you, Finn, and nice to see you again, Liz. Hope to see you both again.”