Fractured (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book Two)

TEN

 

I WALKED UP THE stairs, practicing a little speech in my head, very similar to the one I’d just given Jim, since it had seemed to work out well. Not only for him but for me, too. It had helped me realize where my focus needed to be. What Malachi had done was shocking and tragic. It couldn’t happen again. We’d have to plan and train so that it didn’t. But … it was also an accident. He’d burst in on a dangerous situation and had made a mistake in the heat of battle. It was an error any of us could have made. He needed to know I understood that.

 

Two of the bedroom doors on the second floor were open. One room was messy, the other neat. Probably Jim’s and Henry’s, in that order. And the third door was closed. I went over to it and knocked.

 

“Not now, please,” he called.

 

“It’s me.”

 

Silence. For, like, a whole minute. Enough to make my heart pound harder. Then, “Come in.”

 

I opened the door. He was sitting at a desk. He had changed into track pants and a T-shirt, and his damp black hair was sticking up every which way, like he’d just been rubbing it with the towel that was draped over his shoulder. His face was still pale. His arms and hands were red and raw. And there were little lines etched around his mouth, like he’d aged a few years in the last hour.

 

“You should call Raphael to heal you,” he said. “That bump on the side of your head looks quite bad. And you’re limping.”

 

“I might, later. Talking to you was more important.”

 

He winced and looked away.

 

“Malachi,” I said, reaching out to him. “I know you must be feeling really bad—”

 

“You have no idea,” he said in a strained voice, rising from his chair. “No idea.”

 

“Okay, but I can imagine. And I can see it on your face.”

 

His nostrils flared as he let out a breath. “It won’t happen again. That I can promise you.”

 

My fingers stretched out to touch his, but he laced them behind his head and stared at my hand like it was a poisonous snake. I cleared my throat. “I know you don’t want it to happen again, but we need to talk about how to prevent it—”

 

“I already know how to prevent it,” he said in a quiet voice.

 

“You do? That’s, um, good.” I’d expected to have to give him a pep talk, and he seemed to have already managed it for himself. “Can you tell me your plan?”

 

His dark eyes met mine, and he let his hands fall to his sides. “Yes, I need to.” He stared down at me for a long moment, and then squared his shoulders like he was facing an opponent in battle. “I can’t do this, Lela. I was arrogant and stupid to believe I could.”

 

It took me several seconds to process his words, and when I did, my mouth dropped open. “You’re quitting? Jeez! Jim might be doing the same thing, and that’s bad enough. You can’t quit, Malachi. I’ll never be able to do this without you.”

 

Pain flashed in his eyes, and then it was gone, smoothed over. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not quitting. Even if I could, I wouldn’t, because you need me.”

 

“Exactly.” I shuffled forward on my aching legs, needing to feel him, to be in his arms. “You scared me for a second there.”

 

He caught my wrists before my hands reached his body and whispered, “But I can’t do this.”

 

My heart picked up a frantic, uneven rhythm. I stood, with my arms out to my sides, held there gently in his hands. “You can’t do … what?” I mouthed it more than said it. My throat had closed.

 

“If I am your Lieutenant, I shouldn’t be anything else. I can’t touch you like I have.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “And you can’t look at me like that.”

 

“But you said—when we were in front of the Judge, you said …” He’d said he loved me. He’d said it. I’d heard him. The moment was etched onto my heart in vivid detail.

 

He closed his eyes. “Regardless of what I said, this is over between us. I can’t do my job like this. What happened today proved that. I was so consumed with fear of you being hurt that I killed an unarmed boy. Someone who needed my help. A person you were trying to save.”

 

“Anyone could have made that mistake,” I argued, my voice cracking. “You had a split second to assess the situation.”

 

“I have been a Guard for seventy years, and I have never made a mistake like that.” His eyes opened, and in them I saw myself, pleading and desperate. “Even if I had, it’s different here. We are in the land of the living. That boy was innocent, and I deprived him of his life.” He released my wrists and took a giant step back. “Because of my feelings for you.”

 

I stood there like an idiot, my arms still out at my sides, reaching for the comfort of his body, for him. “I know it’s taking some time to adjust to this new place. But it’s not me—it’s not us.” I knew how pathetic I sounded, but I didn’t care. “Please. We can talk this through.”

 

“It won’t change my decision.”

 

I took a step toward him. He backtracked. “You’re blaming me for this,” I said.

 

“No. I’m the only one at fault. Ana warned me that I was making mistakes because of you, and I ignored her. But as I think back, I realize how right she was. Especially now.”

 

It felt like he’d landed a rock-solid kick to my gut. I nearly doubled over with pain. “What?” I blinked fast to hold back tears. “You said you were doing the right thing …”

 

“I thought I was almost ready to get out of the dark city,” he said roughly. “Then you arrived, and I was stupid enough to believe it was meant to happen, as if this was my reward after all those years of service. So I let go of everything I knew because I thought I didn’t need it anymore. I let my emotions rule me completely.” He laughed bitterly and raked his hand through his hair. “I actually thought I could be with you, that we could go into the Countryside. And when we were sent here, I was still telling myself we could be together, still holding on to all those wishes for a future.” He bowed his head, not letting me see his expression. “I have been such a fool.”

 

“N-no. We’re not a mistake.” It came out broken, little more than a squeak. “This is a good thing. We’re a good thing. We can figure this out together. We can fight for that future. We don’t have to—”

 

“Don’t,” he whispered, holding up his hand. “Please don’t.”

 

“You love me,” I breathed. “You can’t just … stop.”

 

“I can,” he said softly. “I have. What happened today was too much.”

 

“And you could let it go this easily. Just like that.” My vision spotted and sparked as the truth of my words hit me. He had let it go that easily. Why would I even question it? It wasn’t like this kind of thing hadn’t happened before. I’d simply forgotten how little I was worth. I leaned on the desk, needing something to hold me up. “Okay. I get it.”

 

“You obviously don’t,” he said, so quiet I barely caught it.

 

“What?”

 

He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “This isn’t about you,” he said, an edge creeping into his voice. “This is about me, and our mission. If I’m focused on you, I can’t do it. I’ll keep making mistakes. I can’t be what you need if all I want is—”

 

“I’ll do better,” I pleaded, unable to accept what was right in front of me because it was too painful. “I won’t go charging into places alone. I won’t—”

 

“Please respect my decision.” He crossed his arms over his chest. His knuckles were pale again as his fingers bit into the flesh of his arms. “Things between us will be professional from now on. As my Captain, you have my support and loyalty. I will follow your orders, whatever they are.” He clamped his lips shut and swallowed hard. “But that is all I am to you.”

 

A more untrue statement had never been spoken. I hugged myself, willing myself to stop being pathetic, forcing every ounce of pride to the surface, needing it to coat me like armor.

 

Like I was watching from outside my body, I heard myself say, “Of course I’ll respect your decision.”

 

He sagged a little as I spoke, but recovered quickly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like some privacy.”

 

“Yeah, sure. It’s your room.” I spun around and fled as my armor melted away, leaving only a raw lump of misery and confusion where my heart used to be.

 

 

Blinded by tears, hurting and dizzy, desperate to escape to a place where I could scream and cry without being observed, I took the stairs too quickly. My knee gave out halfway down, and I flew forward, knowing this was going to be bad.

 

But I never hit. Warm arms caught me and set me on my feet. “That was nearly your second stair calamity of the day,” Raphael said, holding me steady as I regained my balance.

 

“How did you—never mind,” I said.

 

“Come into the living room, Lela. You need to rest.” He put his arm around me, and I didn’t fight him. I might have fallen without his support. My knee was killing me, my head was throbbing, and my heart was shattered. He guided me to the couch. I fell onto it, pulled a cushion over my chest, and hugged it tight, needing something to contain me, to keep me from falling apart.

 

He squatted in front of me, dressed in plain khaki pants and a button-down. Perfectly designed to be utterly forgettable … like me, apparently. “I won’t ask what hurts,” he said gently.

 

“It’s been a shitty day,” I said, praying he wasn’t going to make me talk about it.

 

His gaze slid up the steps before returning to me. “There is so much pain in this house.”

 

Looking at the slight sadness in his expression, I got an idea. “Can you … can you take that away? You take other kinds of pain away.” A tiny bubble of hope rose through the horrible, heavy despair inside of me. “You … you could just make it black, and when we wake up, we’ll be okay. Maybe you could do that. Because I—” My voice cracked as the reality of what had happened broke over me again. “I’m not sure I can—” I ducked my head so that he wouldn’t see the tears start to fall. “I’m really sorry. I can’t do this.”

 

He nudged my chin up with his fingers. “You can.”

 

“Find another Guard. Put Henry in charge. Please.”

 

He smiled, nearly blinding me. “This conversation is sounding remarkably similar to the one you had with Jim not thirty minutes ago, isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t want to think about the fact that you’re listening to every freaking word I say,” I snapped.

 

The smile didn’t fade, so I directed my attention out the window until he let go of my chin. “You’re smart enough to recognize the parallel, Lela. Jim didn’t think he could handle this mission, and you told him he needed to take responsibility. Malachi is now confronted with his very worst fear—as a victim of the wholesale slaughter of his people, his family, all of them innocent, he is now himself responsible for the death of an innocent child. And yet he is determined to do his job.”

 

I leaned back, wanting to scream in Raphael’s face. Malachi was determined to do his job, all right. And I had interfered with that, and he had pushed me away without hesitation, totally calm as he crushed my heart. “Yeah, his dedication is admirable.” And it was, really. It just hurt more than I could bear.

 

“So is yours, Lela.” He pulled a phone out of his pocket that was identical to mine. “I figured you’d need this. And if you give me your keys, Henry and I can fetch your car when he returns.”

 

“Is that my cell?” I asked as I dug in my pocket for my keys. “You got it from the Mazikin nest?”

 

He shook his head. “But I knew you’d need a new one—”

 

It buzzed. Raphael handed it to me. My new phone had just gotten a text from Henry:

 

They set the nest on fire cops here people everywhere no idea who to follow

 

“Goddammit!” I shouted as the phone vibrated in my hand with another text from him.

 

Orders?

 

I texted back: Come home. Then I tossed the phone onto the coffee table. “Do you want to revisit the notion that I’m actually capable of being the Captain?” I snarled at Raphael. “Because everything I try seems to explode in my face.”

 

Raphael chuckled. “Then you should do better.”

 

Fuck you almost made it out of my mouth, but I clenched my teeth around the words. And for some reason, it seemed to intensify Raphael’s amusement. He patted my knee but pulled his hand away at my sharp intake of breath.

 

“What we need is to be immortal,” I said, clutching at my knee and realizing it was swollen to nearly twice its normal size. “If you need us to fight the Mazikin, why can’t you make us invincible? Or fight them yourself?”

 

His smile disappeared. “The Mazikin are not under the authority of the Judge, and haven’t been for thousands of years. I cannot interfere with them directly. I am bound by the Judge’s oath in this matter.”

 

“Wait, what? The Judge promised the Mazikin that you wouldn’t—”

 

“Only what you need, Lela,” he said with a tone of quiet warning.

 

I bit my lip and tried to figure out what I might need to know. “They’ve escaped before, haven’t they? Ana told me.”

 

Raphael settled himself on the floor. “They have.”

 

“And the human Guards stopped them.”

 

“They did.”

 

“So we can do this, right? We can win?”

 

“I can’t tell the future, Lela. That’s not one of my skills.”

 

I watched his face, looking for clues. “They’re stronger now, aren’t they?”

 

He nodded.

 

I swallowed back the metallic taste of fear. “So I’m in charge of preventing an evil demon scourge from killing who knows how many innocent people, and if I don’t do it soon, they’ll split up and become unstoppable.”

 

He smiled again, but it had a distinctly ghostly quality. “I’m glad you understand.”

 

“I could do this better if you could numb me up, you know?” I said, my voice breaking. “You said you wouldn’t ask where I hurt, but I’ll tell you anyway. Everywhere. Not just my knee or my head. I don’t want these feelings. It’s too much.”

 

He didn’t even have the grace to look apologetic. “That’s a different kind of battle wound entirely. I can’t erase that kind of pain, Lela. It wouldn’t be good for you anyway.”

 

I lay back on the couch. “Then you’d better patch me up so that I can get out there again.” Not that I was eager to go. What I wanted was the moment of peace Raphael’s healing provided. Just for a little while, I needed the world to go the fuck away.

 

“Now, that I can do,” he murmured, and sank me under the weight of dreamless sleep.