He wished he felt less hatred in his heart.
“You don’t need to come back with us,” Julian said. “We don’t need your help anymore.”
“I will not go until I know Mark is safe.”
Julian shrugged. “Have it your way. When we get back, don’t come into the Institute until we say so. We’d be in trouble just for fighting alongside you.”
Kieran’s mouth hardened. “Without me, you would have been defeated this night.”
“Probably,” said Julian. “I’ll remember to be grateful every time I see the scars on Emma’s back.”
Kieran flinched. Julian turned and walked toward the car. Diana cut in front of him, holding up a hand. She was wrapped in a heavy shawl, and her face was speckled with blood like light freckles.
“The Clave may well be waiting for you,” she said without preamble. “If you want, I’ll take the blame for everything and throw myself on their mercy.”
Julian looked at her for a long moment. He had lived by ironclad rules for so long. Protect Tavvy, protect Livvy and Ty, protect Dru. Protect Emma. Recently that had widened out slightly—he would protect Mark, because Mark had come back, and he would protect Cristina, because Emma loved her.
It was a sort of love few other people could understand. It was total and it was overwhelming and it could be cruel. He would destroy a whole city if he thought that city posed some threat to his family.
When you were twelve years old and you were all that stood between your family and annihilation, you didn’t learn moderation.
He considered now, with all the detachment he could muster, what would happen if Diana tried to take the blame—he entertained the idea, turned it over in his head, and rejected it. “No,” he said. “And I’m not being kind. I don’t think it would work.”
“Julian—”
“You hide things,” he said. “The Angel knows there’s something you’re still hiding, some reason you couldn’t take over the Institute. Something you won’t tell, anyway. You’re a good hider, but you’re not a good liar. They won’t believe you. But they will believe me.”
“So you already have a story for them?” Diana asked, her dark eyes widening.
Julian didn’t say anything.
She sighed, pulling the shawl tighter. “You’re a piece of work, Julian Blackthorn.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, though he doubted she meant it as one.
“Did you know I’d be here tonight?” she asked. “Did you think I was in league with Malcolm?”
“I didn’t think it was likely,” Julian said. “But then, I don’t entirely trust anyone.”
“That’s not true,” Diana said, looking across to where Mark was helping Emma into the driver’s side of the car. Her blond hair flew like sparks in the starlight. Diana glanced back at Julian. “You’d better get back. I’ll make myself scarce until tomorrow.”
“I’ll tell them you didn’t know anything. It isn’t as if people don’t deceive their tutors all the time. And you don’t even live with us.” He heard the Toyota start up. The others were waiting for him. “So you’ll drop Diego and Cristina at the Institute and then head home?”
“I’ll head somewhere,” she said.
He started toward the car, then paused and turned to look back at her. “Do you ever regret it? Choosing to be our tutor? You didn’t have to.”
The wind blew her dark hair across her face. “No,” she said. “I am who I am because I’ve been part of your family. Never forget, Jules. The choices we make, make us.”
The drive back was silent and exhausted. Ty was quiet, looking out the window of the passenger seat. Dru was curled into a ball. Tavvy was awake but barely, his head against Livia’s shoulder. Emma was slumped against a backseat window, holding Cortana, her damp blond hair straggling around her face, her eyes closed. Mark was squeezed in beside her.
Julian wanted to reach for Emma, slide his hand into hers, but he didn’t dare, not in front of the others. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching back from the driver’s seat to touch Tavvy’s arm, though, making sure that his little boy was still alive, still all right.
They were all still alive, and it was little short of a miracle. Julian felt as if every nerve in his body had been pulled out of his skin. He visualized the nerve endings exposed, each one like a Sensor, reacting to the presence of his family around him.
He thought of Diana, saying, You’re going to have to let go.
And he knew it was true. Someday he would have to open his hands, let his brothers and sisters go freely into the world, a world that would cut them, bruise them, knock them down and not help them back up again. Someday he would have to do that.
But not yet. Not quite yet.
“Ty,” Julian said. He spoke quietly, so that the passengers in the backseat wouldn’t hear him.
“Yes?” Ty looked over. The shadows under his eyes were as gray as his irises.
“You were right,” Julian said. “I was wrong.”