Fractured (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book Two) Read online

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2013 by Sarah Fine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Skyscape, New York

  www.apub.com

  ISBN-13: 9781477816912

  ISBN-10: 1477816917

  Source photos courtesy of Shutterstock

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request.

  For Alma, my very own warrior girl.

  CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ONE

  MY CAPTOR PACED THE entryway with heavy footsteps while I sat in a wooden chair backed against the wall. My heart beat hard against my ribs, keeping time with my primitive, animal thoughts: escape escape escape.

  My rational side, dwarfed by instinct, somehow managed to whisper, It’s not like this is a life-threatening situation. I’ll get out of it alive. I hope.

  I leaned forward and planted my feet on the floor, estimating the number of seconds it would take to reach the exit.

  The fierce stare of my jailer told me she was thinking the same thing. She halted in front of the door and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t even think about it, baby. I’m responsible for you. This is a big deal.”

  I leaned my head back and banged it softly against the wall. “Only because you made it one.”

  Diane made her all-purpose mm-mm-mm sound of disapproval. “You’ve just gone through something big, and now—”

  I was saved from a lecture by a knock at the door, but the knowledge of who it was sent my heart rate skyrocketing. I stood up on shaky legs as Diane turned the knob and swung it wide.

  I was still getting used to seeing him in regular clothes rather than armor and fatigues. A week ago he’d shown up at my school, looking like an ordinary high school student instead of a deadly Guard. Well, “ordinary” probably wasn’t the right word. He couldn’t look ordinary if he tried. And he was trying. Tonight, he wore jeans and a zipped-up gray hoodie. His face was angular and stark, with olive skin framed by ink-black hair; his eyes, which were so dark they looked like solid ebony circles, held an expression I’d seen before.

  He was doing his best to look harmless, but he wasn’t very good at it. He still looked like he could kill someone without breaking a sweat.

  Probably because he could.

  “Ms. Jeffries?” Even though he spoke perfect English, every consonant was harder, every vowel deeper, resulting in this clipped, precise accent that perfectly matched his appearance. He held out his hand. “Malachi Sokol. So nice to meet you.”

  I drew up alongside Diane in time to see her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. She’d spent her entire career working as a corrections officer at the medium-security prison, so she had a pretty keen sense of danger. Malachi had obviously triggered her alarm. She shook his hand and stepped back to allow him into the entryway. “Nice to meet you, too. Lela said you just arrived here in the States?”

  “Yes, it’s a brief exchange program. An opportunity to experience American culture before I graduate,” he replied, but his focus had already shifted from Diane.

  To me.

  His smile was a devastating curl of his lips as his eyes met mine. From behind his back, he produced a small bouquet of flowers, a few yellow-and-white blooms and several pale-green buds, wrapped in cellophane. “These are for you.”

  It took me a few seconds, but I managed to get my hands and fingers to work together to take the flowers from his hand. “Thanks,” I said, but it came out as a choked whisper.

  Malachi’s brows lowered and concern flashed in his eyes before he turned back to Diane. “I’d like to introduce my host father.” He gestured toward the front steps.

  Raphael, dressed in khakis and a sweater, stepped into the entryway and held out his hand. “Ms. Jeffries. I’m John Raphael. Thank you so much for inviting us to dinner. I was so pleased to hear Malachi had already made a friend.”

  As he smiled, his face transformed from forgettable to indelible, from ordinary to … well, angelic. Whenever Raphael smiled, I wished I had my camera to capture it.

  The tension melted from Diane’s body as she shook Raphael’s hand. Her face relaxed into a warm smile. “I was happy, too, for Lela,” she said, which nearly made me laugh, because we’d had a raging argument this afternoon about whether I could go out with Malachi tonight. It was the first time I’d ever asked to go out with a boy, the first time I’d ever mentioned one, actually, and judging by the way she’d clutched at her chest when I did, it really caught her by surprise. Especially because things had been so miserable since Nadia killed herself. Diane couldn’t understand how I’d “snapped out” of my grief in the past week.

  She didn’t know I’d followed Nadia into death. That I’d seen my best friend again. That I not only suspected Nadia was in a better place—I knew it at a bone-deep level. I’d made sure of it, in fact.

  I’d sold my own freedom to make it happen.

  While Diane and Raphael chatted about the joys of parenting teenagers, I went to the kitchen with the flowers, staring at those thinly veined buds as my throat tightened. I opened a cabinet to pull out a plastic vase, and when I closed it, Malachi was standing beside me.

  “You don’t like them?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I love them. It’s just … no one’s ever given me flowers before.” I turned my back, rolling the delicate stems between my fingers. It was one of those cheap grocery-store bouquets. Tegan, the new queen bee of Warwick High School since Nadia’s death, would have scoffed at the already-wilting necks, the scraggly little petals. But to me …

  Malachi’s fingers skimmed along my shoulder. “I have never given a girl flowers before.” He laughed quietly. “I hadn’t actually seen a flower up close in a long time.”

  He’d spent the last several decades in a walled city of cement and steel and slime, where the only things that grew were the festering wishes of the dead, sorrowful people trapped there. Because it was always dusk or midnight, never day, nothing green or lush or real could grow. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Something had grown between us.

  I turned back to him and reached for his hand. I wasn’t used to this yet, this permission to touch. His skin was so warm. Real. Here.

  “Unbelievable,” I whispered.

  He grinned and pulled me toward him, but at that exact moment Diane entered the kitchen. Malachi
let go of me and stepped back, clearing his throat.

  “I hope you like pasta,” she said to him. Her tone was light, but she shot him a look. He’d been warned.

  “I suspect I will love anything you cook,” he replied. I had no doubt that was true. Malachi hadn’t eaten a decent meal since well before his death, sometime in the early 1940s.

  Malachi and I set the table while Raphael poured us each a glass of lemonade. Dinner had been Diane’s idea. She had insisted on meeting both Malachi and his “people” before she would allow me to go out with him. She kept narrowing her eyes, like she was wondering if he’d come armed. I was wondering the same thing. And while I’d seen Malachi kill Mazikin with deadly accuracy and powerful grace, I’d rarely seen him do anything as mundane as setting forks on a table. By the way he watched his own hands and carefully placed each piece of cutlery, he was probably thinking about it as well. I was dying to ask him what was going on inside his head, to finally get to know the real him better. Maybe there would be time to do that now that we were here, on Earth, and not trapped in hell.

  The past week hadn’t given us many opportunities, though. We’d spent what little time we had together focused on making sure Malachi had the basic skills he needed to function in the modern world, like operating a microwave and using a cell phone. I’d spent the rest of my after-school hours dutifully attending a series of doctor appointments Diane had set up to make sure I wasn’t in need of psychiatric hospitalization. As soon as I’d walked her back from that cliff, I asked if I could go out with Malachi. We couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

  “Where exactly are you from?” Diane asked him as we sat down to eat.

  “Bratislava,” he said. “Slovakia.”

  “What do your parents do?”

  My throat tightened again as I watched him give Diane a small, sad smile. “My father owns a shoe store,” he said slowly. “My mother, she stays at home. She’s a very good cook.” He bowed his head for a second. “I miss her cooking.”

  The sharp edges of Diane’s expression and voice immediately softened. “You’re homesick, poor baby.”

  Malachi swallowed and took a breath. “Always. But I am happy to be here. And happy to have met Lela.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to let Lela drive,” said Raphael, passing the garlic bread to Diane and drawing attention away from Malachi, allowing him a chance to recover from the mention of his parents, who had died at the hands of the Nazis.

  “Actually, I think it’s good for Lela to do the driving,” said Diane. She’d told me she wanted me to be able to dump Malachi and drive away if he got “handsy.”

  Raphael was a charming dinner companion and had no trouble getting Diane to talk about herself, her family, her pride that I was college-bound. As he kept her going, I watched Malachi eat. Every bite looked like an act of worship. He told Diane how delicious it was at least ten times. She probably thought he was kissing her ass, but I knew it for what it was—the absolute truth. The food in the dark city sucked.

  “We need to leave soon if we’re going to make that movie,” I said as we finished up. I was more than ready to make a break for it and be alone with Malachi.

  “Which theater are you going to?” asked Diane. “Not Providence Place, all right?”

  Here we go. “No, but it’s really not a big—”

  She gripped her fork like a weapon and glared at me. “Those crazies were caught on video only about ten miles from here. You’re not going anywhere near that city until they catch them.” She wasn’t the only one freaking out. We lived in Warwick, but Rhode Island was the size of a teacup, and the entire state was in an uproar about the sightings.

  Raphael wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I saw the news report. The footage was so grainy that it could have even been a rabid dog.”

  Diane looked at Raphael like he’d betrayed her. “A dog wearing jeans and sneakers?” She took a bite of pasta, her jaw working harder than necessary. When she swallowed, she said, “I’m not saying it’s a werewolf or something. I’m not crazy. But a guy running around on all fours? Probably a meth head. Take it from me: those people are unpredictable. Either way, these two are staying away.”

  “The theater is here in Warwick, Ms. Jeffries,” Malachi offered, earning him a nod from Diane. We’d rehearsed this part, and he looked relieved that he’d gotten it right.

  “What are you seeing?” she asked, finally relaxing.

  “Night Huntress,” he recited. “It’s received great reviews.”

  “I heard it was a gore fest,” she grumbled as she began to clear the table.

  I held in my half-hysterical giggles as I helped get the dishes into the sink. “Thanks for dinner. And for being cool.”

  She shrugged and hmphed. “You’ve earned my trust, baby. Keep it, all right?”

  “No problem,” I said. “You don’t have to wait up.”

  “Nice try. It’s a school night. You’re lucky I’m letting you out at all. Be back by ten.” Diane leaned out of the kitchen and fixed Malachi with a suspicious look. “You’d better take care of this girl, young man.”

  Malachi closed the distance between us and took my hand. “Ms. Jeffries, I swear to you, I will protect her with my life.”

  Diane laughed. If she only knew he’d already done exactly that at least a dozen times.

  She let us go with a minimum of fuss, even though she wouldn’t let Raphael escape without a hug, which he seemed happy enough to give her. No matter what she thought of Malachi, it was obvious she thought Raphael was all right, which would help a lot. As soon as we were a safe distance away, Raphael turned to us and said, “Mission accomplished. Have fun tonight, you two. I’m needed elsewhere. Summon me if you require my assistance.”

  “We won’t,” said Malachi, squeezing my hand. “But thank you.”

  “Actually,” I said, “can you help me out with Diane? I’m lucky she’s letting me out at all, but this curfew …”

  Raphael nodded. “When she’s not on the night shift, which should suit your patrol schedule nicely, Ms. Jeffries will be sleeping very soundly.”

  I bit my lip. I hated to do this to Diane, but I didn’t have a choice. “Thanks.”

  As soon as Raphael pulled his generic gray sedan away from the curb, Malachi and I got into my beat-up, old Corolla. I sat there for a second, my heart skipping, unable to believe I was in a car with Malachi, overwhelmed by the complete ordinariness of the moment, no matter how bizarre the circumstances. I glanced over to gauge his reaction, only to find him staring at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “I want to kiss you.”

  And with those simple words, the temperature inside the car rose by about a thousand degrees. “Yeah?” I asked, stupidly breathless.

  He leaned forward slowly. “May I?”

  “We shouldn’t … we should go … and maybe Diane is—”

  Then his fingertips skimmed along my jawline, destroying my resistance.

  “Just one,” I whispered.

  I didn’t have time to say anything else before his lips met mine, setting me on fire, making me feel like the earth was falling out from under me. My hand slid up to his neck, to the smooth, silver-swirled scar that was a souvenir from Juri, a deadly Mazikin and the first person—no, thing—I’d ever killed. Malachi’s tongue traced mine as our kiss deepened and my thoughts scattered, leaving me with only the taste of him, the halting rhythm of our breaths, and a bone-melting hunger. His fingers tangled in my unruly curls as he scooted closer. I put my hand on his chest to feel the thunder of his heart against my palm. But when my fingers drifted to his stomach, they did not find the hard ridges of muscle I’d expected. Malachi felt the tremble of laughter run through me and pulled back from my mouth. “I had to put them somewhere.”

  I looked toward the front of the house, expecting to see Diane peeking at us through the curtains, but there was no sign of her. Plus, the sun had already dipped below the horizon,
so I figured it was dark enough. I tugged his hoodie up, revealing the six throwing knives holstered against his torso.

  “I knew you’d come prepared,” I said.

  “I brought you some as well.” He pulled a pack from the backseat. “Michael dropped these off for us this afternoon, and Raphael tucked them in here when we arrived this evening.”

  I unzipped the pack a few inches and peered inside, taking in the knives, two batons, and—good God: “He gave us grenades?”

  “It will be up to you whether we use them or not. You are the Captain, after all,” he said as he moved back to his side of the car and watched me take a few shaky breaths. “You’re going to be fine, Lela. I’m here to help you.”

  I jammed my keys into the ignition. “My first real patrol as a Guard,” I said quietly, wishing that saying it out loud would make it sound real instead of crazy. Wishing it made me feel brave instead of petrified, proud instead of furious at the Judge of the Sanctum, who I was pretty sure had coldly manipulated me into leading her “field unit” here on Earth. Worse than that, she’d demoted Malachi and sent him along instead of giving him what he’d earned through decades in her service: a peaceful eternity in the Countryside. Of course, I wasn’t totally mad he was on the mission—I got to be with him—but I still felt guilty. He’d done it all for me.

  Malachi set the pack at his feet, and then leaned back and smiled at me. Like he didn’t regret his circumstances in the slightest. “Let’s go hunting.”

  TWO

  I LEFT MY NEIGHBORHOOD and drove toward the highway. Malachi shifted in his seat as I accelerated along West Shore Road. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s just … fast.”

  I glanced over at him. He was holding the oh shit handle with a white-knuckled grip. “Still not used to riding in cars?”

  “Not yet. I did a few times in Bratislava, but they were not like this.” He scanned the road, the sidewalks and stores, the gas stations and office buildings. “Nothing was like this.”

  “I’m sorry.” I touched his hand as I stopped at a red light. “It’s easy to forget how new and different everything must be for you. You’ve done really well so far.”