Veined (A Guardian of the Angels Novel) (9 page)

Bad move, Attic.
“Who the hell are you to tell me what I can or can’t do? You may know more about what’s happening to me, but you sure aren’t going to boss me around because of it. I’ve changed my mind. Albelin can wait. Take me home. Now.”

The fact was, I knew very little about Attic and his tone freaked me out. Why had I trusted him so entirely? I shuddered at my own stupidity. “I’ll visit him at the hospital tomorrow. He can answer my questions then.”

“Oh, I can take you to the house,” Attic said, swinging into the next exit lane, “but it’ll just be wasting time. Haven’t you got that through your pretty head yet?” He sounded annoyed. “You
died
. Phoenixed.” 

“What has that got to do with taking me home? Jeez, Attic.”

“Because you’re not part of that world anymore. Now you’re a part of ours.”

“I’m their daughter, their sister. I won’t just disappear from them.

“Dammit, Lark.” Attic’s jaw had hardened again. “I know you’re smarter than this. If you just put it together, it would save a lot of gas.”

“You seem to think you know everything about me, Attic. Well you don’t. Get this: I don’t understand.”

“If this is the proof you need to believe me, to trust . . .” Attic left the interstate at the next exit ramp, muttering under his breath.

It was silent the entire drive to my home. One part of me was glad for it, but the other craved to hear more about the Guardians. Finally, he parked tightly next to the curb. I unbuckled my seat belt and forced myself not to slam the door on my way out. I may have wanted to express a few things to Attic, but I didn’t want to wake the whole neighborhood.

Attic clicked his door shut. “Go on then, Lark.” He sounded gentler now, like he’d lost the fight but was gracious about it. I watched him glance up at my bedroom window, which I’d left open. “I’m just going to get something.”

He started to climb the tree, and with a little too much familiarity.

“What are you doing?” My voice was no more than a whisper.

He answered me by leaping from a branch into my window as gracefully and silently as a cat. Before I could make any sense of what he was doing, he slid back out the window and jumped, landing neatly less than a couple of feet from me.

Smiling, he dangled the keys to the Porsche in his hands. “Interesting place to keep keys.” He nudged me in the direction of the front door. “Now, go on. Ring the doorbell, tell Mom and Dad that you snuck out and you’ll never do it again.”

I hesitated and looked at the tree in an entirely new light. Maybe they’d never have to know I was out.

Attic chuckled behind me, shaking his head, then reached over and pressed the bell for me. I elbowed him. “Get out of here. I’ll be able to handle this. I’m doing it for them. You know, I’m beginning to think it’s you that doesn’t understand.”

The thumping of footsteps down the stairs made my heart quicken. I pushed Attic toward the garage. I was already going to get in trouble for this, at least I didn’t have to make it worse by flaunting that I was with a guy all night.

The door started to open, and I braced myself, prepared for the anger and disappointment.  “Do you know what time this is?” Dad boomed.

I studied my sneakers, to give myself the appearance of being ashamed. “Yes, I know, I’m sorry—”

“Well then, what do you want?”

I choked on my words so they came out as an unidentifiable squeak.

“You in trouble? See the cruiser, eh?” Dad peered at me. Absolutely no recognition on his face. None of the tenderness of a father who has seen his daughter learn to walk, to speak, ride a bike, and drive.

Suddenly, everything Attic had told me tonight took on its true proportions. They solidified and my head felt heavy. Unconsciously, I took a step back, but I was so dazed I couldn’t hold myself upright. My knee buckled and Attic grabbed me before I hit the ground.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Dad asked.

I looked at Attic. He had known this would happen, he’d even tried to warn me. I could almost hear his expression.
Did you really not understand?
You died.

I shook my head, conveniently answering both Dad and Attic.

Attic waved a hand and my Dad shut the door quietly, like nothing had happened.

I stared at Attic, mouthing my next words. “My family doesn’t remember me?”

“I’m sorry, but their memories of you have been taken. You’re a Guardian now. You’ve Phoenixed.” He lightly touched my mark. “You’re Veined."

Not part of that world, anymore.

CHAPTER 10

THEY DON'T REMEMBER ME.
The shock took it all out of me. Attic loaded me into the Porsche and I stared numbly out the window. Thoughts swirled in my head. A thousand questions I needed to ask, but my tongue lay thick and useless. 

My foot prickled with pins and needles. My eyes opened. Huh, I’d fallen asleep? I uncrossed my legs and something slipped from my lap. I bent down and picked up Attic’s leather jacket. He didn’t look in my direction, he seemed lost in his thoughts. Or he just didn’t want to deal with me anymore.

The bottoms of Attic’s pants were rolled up and the heating was cranked up. I turned it down. “Didn’t figure you for the sauna type,” I said.

Attic kept his eyes on the road. “You were shivering.”

I peered out of the window and watched the car lights bump past thick pine forest. “Did you take away their memories of me?” My voice was broken, like my insides.

Attic mumbled his words, as if hiding a secret pain. “I’m sorry, Sylva. It was necessary. You don’t belong there with them.”

The dark forest reminded me of Dad shutting the door, locking me out of their lives.

“Why did I go back to them after the coma, then? Why didn’t you take me as soon as I woke up?”

The trees outside blurred as my eyes welled up.
My family can’t remember me.

The car slowed. U
p ahead I could see a neon motel sign, flickering. The ‘o’ failed to light up at all.
Like the life inside of me.
Not part of Mom, Dad, and Jeffrey’s world anymore. Their love for me gone. My love for them, forgotten. And I was the only one hurting.

“We couldn’t take you in unti
l you’d Phoenixed,” Attic finally said. “That was also why I couldn’t tell you earlier, I—we couldn’t let you panic about the possibility of dying. That’s not fair. It’s better for potentials to be with their family in case that happens. It’s nicer for them.”

The car jerked to a stop, as I repeated what he’d just told me. “Dying? Again?”

Attic took a breath. “Not all people who are Veined make it to their Phoenix moment. Many die—I mean properly die. Either they fade away because their body can’t handle the angel blood and power, or they’re killed.” He met my gaze, the square set of his jaw conveying his seriousness. “Untrained, you’re easy prey. You leak power and they sense it. You don’t know how close to death you’ve come in the past few weeks. Tonight was nothing.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, whitening his knuckles. “We made your family move here because Foxtin is where Guardians come to train. And there are enough of us here to guard and defend potentials.” He bowed his head. “But except for you, in the last three months, all our potentials have died.”

I shivered and, despite the heat, wrapped Attic’s jacket around my middle.

“Out of the car.” I detected a slight shake in his voice. He glanced at me and our eyes met. The blue of his irises had dulled to a sad grey. He reached over me. One of his hands rested on the door handle while the other unclipped my seatbelt. “Welcome to your new home.”

His last words sent a shudder down my spine. This wasn’t my home. Not even Portland mattered anymore. Home was wherever my family were. I paused before climbing out, suddenly realizing something. “Attic,” I demanded. “When my family moved here from Portland
. . . Did others have their memories of me erased?” Like Shirley? Was that why she hadn’t contacted me? “And did you change their numbers so I couldn’t reach them?”

Attic got out of the car and came to my side, pulling me from my seat. He shoved the door shut. “Their memories were taken, not erased. Your parents don’t know they had a daughter. Substitute memories fill any gaps. Again, I’m sorry. It was necessary.”

My whole insides felt riddled with splinters. I dug my fingers into Attic’s elbows and briefly closed my eyes. I wanted him to hurt as much as I did. For him to know what this was like for me, so he’d stop with his blunt attitude. I didn’t ever want to hear the words
it was necessary
again.

“Look,” he said. “I understand how hard this all is to take in, right now. Really, I do.” Sympathy softened his eyes. “I’ll help you however I can.”

I wanted to stay angry, but the sincerity of his voice stopped me. I swallowed.
This must have happened to him at some point as well.

He led me across the parking lot. The fancy cars looked out of place in front of the run-down motel. “This is where you live?” I managed, in an effort to focus on something else. Anything else.

Attic grinned. “Don’t be rushing to judge it.”

I hardly needed to judge it. The ugly green doors lit under fluorescent bulbs, the long metal railing lining the balcony with its peeling brown paint, and the flickering
No Vacancies
sign spoke for itself. “It’s much nicer inside, I’m sure.”

Attic went to touch the small of my back, and thought better of it. We walked in the direction of a cabin-like reception.

He pressed the imprint of an angel above the door handle. The angel I’d seen time and time again; on Albelin’s neck at the hospital, on the torn body I’d found, in the Porsche—the clue that had been staring at me the whole frigging time.

“The Angel,” I said, pointing at where the imprint was under his hand. “Do all Guardians get it tattooed on them?” Was I going to have to have to get one too?

“No. Only married Guardians get the tattoo of an Angel.” Attic spoke, his voice hard, abrupt. “It’s part of the marital ceremony. Let’s not talk about that.” He flung the door open and prodded me inside.

It smelled spicy, like cinnamon. Who would be baking at this hour of the morning?

He led me behind the counter, where a set of stairs descended underground. “After you, Lark.”

I took each step slowly, until I saw the plush hallway it led to. Thick red carpet lined the floors and small crystal chandeliers hung every ten feet from the high ceiling, shattering light and color onto the walls.

I stretched my arms out and breathed in deeply. I’d been afraid the stairs would lead somewhere confining, but the hallway was wide enough for three of me to stand stretched side by side. “Where’s the wind coming from?”

Attic pointed to the ceiling. “Air vents.”

“And the cinnamon?”

He smiled and charged down the hall. “Follow me.”

Albelin’s profile, scooping batter on his spoon into the last muffin cup, greeted us when we entered the kitchen. “Attic, offer Sylva a drink, would you? She’s probably been through hell, and knowing you, you’ll have forgotten about the essentials of hydration.”

My mouth dropped open and I closed it again with a smack.

Attic yanked the silver fridge door open and came back with a bottle of sparkling water. “Alyse, the little tattletale. How long did she hold out before she spilled?”

With his socked foot, Albelin opened the oven and slid in two muffin trays. “Not even two minutes. And I’m glad she did, Attic.” He spun round, wiping his floury hands on the red striped apron. “It’s always nice to prepare for company.” His face erupted into a huge smile. “I certainly hope you like apple and cinnamon muffins?”

I shrugged. “You could make me think I do, even if I don’t, right?” I didn’t care that I ambushed him into an explanation when he was trying to be hospitable. I wanted answers.

Attic plunked himself on the head chair at a large dining table that looked like it easily fit a dozen people. I caught him mouthing something to Albelin, which looked a little like
‘good luck’
.

“Straight to the point, huh?” Albelin said. “Well, since I want you to enjoy the muffins when they come out, I’ll start with this. When we Lethe people—”

“Lethe?” I asked.

Albelin scowled at Attic. “You told her that little?”

Attic folded his arms and grinned. “You just do it so much better.”

“Lazy bugger.” Albelin mirrored his smile and threw him a pair of yellow rubber gloves. “You’re on washing up, then.”

My gaze moved to the black gloves Attic already had on. Would he take them off? Or just put the other ones over? Albelin started to talk again and I was torn between my need to know about the Guardians and an intense curiosity at what lay under Attic’s gloves. Dammit, he moved out of my line of sight.
Why does that matter? My family doesn’t remember me.

I focused on Albelin. Answers. “Lething is what we do when we adapt a human’s memories. But I can’t Lethe you. Not with the angel blood in you.”

“Can he?” I pointed to Attic’s back.

“No. There’s only one Guardian in the world that can lethe other Guardians. It’s a rare gift.” He brushed flour and cinnamon off the bench and into a cupped hand.

The dishes clattered in the background. I heard a buzzing and Albelin dumped his collected flour back onto the bench and raised an apologetic finger. “Just a minute,” he mouthed and flipped open his cell.

Attic moved closer to Albelin. The black gloves were back on. While he listened in, his brows pushed closer and closer together.

“It’s closer to us. We’ll deal, Toby will tell us where and when,” Albelin said. “Eirene be with you.” He clapped his cell shut and faced me. “Sylva. I’m sorry but explanations will have to wait.”

At that moment, a tall woman with moccachino skin, cascading chocolate hair and matching brown eyes entered the kitchen. Behind her a guy with cropped sandy hair followed, guzzling a bottle of water.

Albelin smiled and said, “Sylva, meet my wife, Cordelia.” He spun on his heels and snatched the woman into a loving embrace.

“Nice to meet you, Sylva.” Cordelia’s voice skipped over Albelin’s shoulder. She extracted herself from him and turned to the guy tightening the lid back on the bottle. “Toby, how many are there?”

“Ten Keres and one Arae,” he said and turned to look me up and down. He raised an approving brow. “I’m Toby, by the way. And you’re . . .?”

I thought I heard Attic growl, but maybe it was the sound of ripping velcro as Albelin took off his apron.

“I’m Sylva,” I reached out to shake his hand but Attic lightly gripped my elbow and led me past Toby towards the door. “I’ll take her to her room.”

“I had room fourteen prepared,” Albelin said.

“Nice to meet you, Sylva,” Toby said.

Attic’s voice cut over my reply. “Meet you in ten minutes. Out front,” he said. “Can’t wait to see you in action, Cordelia.” He winked and Albelin laughed, whipping Attic’s backside with the apron.

They acted like a happy family.

Gut clench. Deep breath.

Cordelia’s voice trailed after us down the hallway. “Flirt with someone your own age, luv.” I shook Attic’s hand off my arm. He certainly did that already. Every day.

Albelin and Cordelia’s laughter echoed from the kitchen. Attic’s grip tightened on my elbow and he scowled.

“What’s up with you?”

“It’s
. . . nothing,” Attic said.

Upstairs, he grabbed a key from underneath the counter and marched me up a set of questionable stairs to the fluorescent-lit balcony. Moths flittered in the light, casting giant winged shadows on the deck.

I had to ask. “Why is the outside so—?”

“We don’t want just anyone rolling up,” Attic said. We stopped outside a small door with a stained metal fourteen. He twisted the key in the lock and flicked on a light. Again, the inside surprised me. The walls were nicely painted and the carpet was the same as the one underground.

Attic pointed to a foggy glass door on the left. “Vanity room is through that door, and by the looks of it,” he looked me up and down with a smirk, “you’ll be needing that right now.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and his smile grew. “Wardrobe is there. I’ll pick up some of your clothes after the job’s done.”

I stared at the king-sized bed, and suddenly longed to curl up and sleep the nightmare off. God, I was so tired. “What’s with the lavish beds if Guardians hardly sleep?”

Attic laughed and raised a mischievous brow. “Sleeping’s not the only thing a bed’s good for.”

Tired
and
stupid. Despite everything that had happened tonight that should have made it impossible, my cheeks burned. I avoided Attic’s face. “Um . . . this job you’re doing. Is this about protecting Eirene? This is what Guardians are here for?”

“Oh, Lark. When you change the subject of conversation, you’re meant to choose a topic a little less serious. Ideally, you want to say something that makes the offender, in this case me, turn a darker shade of red.” Attic stepped closer and lifted my chin with his index finger. “But don’t worry, sweets. I’ll give you plenty more opportunities to perfect the art.”

I straightened and looked Attic in the eye. “I don’t know why, but I think you’re too afraid to tell me what’s really going on. That’s why you refused to answer my question just now.”

His face went still and his voice grew cold. Mad. “Have you ever considered I spared you the answers for your benefit?” Attic’s fingers gripped my shoulders until they hurt. I couldn’t help but gasp. When he realized how hard he held me, he dropped his arms to his sides. “The job we’re going on right now isn’t just to protect the gates of Eirene. It’s to protect
you
.” With that, Attic stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.