Under Attack

Chapter Fifteen

We stopped at Will’s car and just before he opened my door I gawked at him. “Hey. Wait!” I reached into my jeans pocket, felt around for his business card. It wasn’t there. I gave myself a brief pat down and tried every pocket twice while Will looked on, his face registering amusement.

“You’ve only been in jail for two hours and already feeling the need for a little conjugal? It’s really unorthodox, but if you need a little loving I guess I could ...”

“Can it, crumpet. I’m looking for the business card.”

“Oh, the nice lady with the tattoo on her neck slipped you her card, did she?”

I put my fists on my hips. “Your business card. The one you slipped into my jeans pocket. The one that said Will Sherman, Guardian.”

Will clicked open my car door and strode toward the driver’s side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t!”

Will’s eyebrows went up and I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Whatever game you’re playing—fine. I don’t know how you got the business card in my pocket and I don’t know what you did with it, but I want to know why.”

“Why what?”

“Why did I have a business card that said Will Sherman, Guardian?”

Will rested his hands on the gearshift, his eyes intent on the street in front of the windshield. “Put your seat belt on.”

I buckled myself in. “You’re the seventh guardian.”

He gave me a grave look. “You know what happened to the other six, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“So I’d thank you to keep this under wraps.”

I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. “Your secret is safe. But why wouldn’t you have just told me? Why didn’t you just say, ‘Hi, Sophie, I’m here to protect the Vessel of Souls. Pip-pip, cheerio.’”

He looked annoyed. “Why do all Americans think the English say ‘pip-pip’ and ‘cheerio’? It’s really quite obnoxious.”

“Fine. No pip-pip. How about just the ‘I’m the seventh guardian of the Vessel of Souls.’ Would have saved us both a whole heck of a lot of strife.”

“Would have saved you a bit of strife. Me, not so much. I have to keep my identity a secret.”

“Why? Are you also Superman?”

Will guided the car out of the police department lot and into the smooth flow of late-night traffic. “My job isn’t exactly an easy one.”

“Because of Ophelia trying to pick you off ?”

“Because the item that I am charged with guarding does stupid things like taking up with a fallen angel or getting herself thrown in jail.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I am not an item that needs guarding. And how am I even associated with this?”

Will didn’t answer and I could feel my frustration turning to a tiny ball of anger. My fingers started to twitch. “Does everyone up there”—I turned my eyes skyward—“know about my magical immunity? Do they all know I’m helping Alex find the Vessel?”

“Blarney Stone all right?”

Will held the door for me as we slipped into the Blarney Stone, a dark pub in Outer Richmond that was illuminated with neon beer signs and was famed for making the kind of drinks that made normal people wince.

Will grinned as he ordered a shot of something dark and a beer chaser for each of us. He held the small shot glass between thumb and forefinger and we cheers’ed—me looking skeptical, him looking thirsty. He licked his lips and took the shot.

“That’ll put hair on your chest.”

I looked down into my glass. “Just what I wanted. A hairy chest.” I shot the liquid and was about to howl when Will shoved the pint glass in my hand and I grabbed it, downing half my beer in a huge slurp.

Will looked impressed. “Now that’s a brave woman.”

I burped softly. “Jail’ll do that to you.”

Will held up two fingers when the bartender cleared our empty glasses. Before the liquid had finished sloshing around in my stomach, there was another set of pint and shot glasses set out in front of us.

I sucked in a nervous breath. “So, you’re the seventh guardian.”

Will fingered his glass. “We’re back to this again, are we?”

“Are you going to tell me anything? About being a guardian? About the Vessel?”

Will didn’t answer, just kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, his fingers working around the rim of his shot glass.

“You must know where the Vessel is.”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, lifted his glass to his lips, took a small sip. “I do.”

“That’s amazing. That’s perfect! You can get it and take it out of here and Ophelia will disappear. She’ll be out of our hair.” I looked over at Will’s strong profile and felt a tingle of guilt. “She’ll be after you, but ...” My voice sounded small. “We’ll be safe.”

Will gave a humorless bark of laughter and downed his drink. “It doesn’t really work that way, love.”

I dropped my voice. “The Vessel. Is it nearby?”

Another tiny nod.

“Is it—” My eyes scanned the small darkened bar, flitting over each neon sign, over the sticky round tables and the small, deserted dance floor. “Is it here?”

Will set his glass on the bar, the glass on wood making a hollow thump. The bartender came immediately back and tended to the empty glass, filling it with a sloshing pour. “It is,” Will said finally.

I scooched closer to him on my bar stool, feeling the rising race of my pulse. “Is it here here?”

Another sip, another nod.

“Can I see it?”

Will took a sip, focused hard on the row of liquor bottles displayed neatly on the mirrored shelves in front of us. “Look away.”

I squinted, reading the bottles, trying to follow his unwavering gaze. “It’s a Jack Daniel’s bottle?”

Will kept drinking and I frowned, my reflection looking like a sullen child in the mirror. “Give me a hint.”

“Fine. Here’s your hint.” Will did a half turn on his bar stool so he was facing me. His expression was part bored, part exasperated.

“What’s my hint?”

He raised his eyebrows and I felt my frown go from sulky to frustrated. “What?”

“Really, Sophie. You have no idea where the Vessel might be?”

I wagged my head.

“None at all? Not even when fallen angels flock to you and a guy as good looking as me comes by and springs you from jail, no questions asked?”

I still wagged my head, was still confused.

“You!” Will’s index finger was a quarter inch from my nose.

“Me, what?”

He rolled his eyes, downed the second shot, and then downed mine. He dug into his pocket, slapped some bills on the bar, and took my elbow. I stumbled after him.

“Where are we going? What are we doing? Are we going to see it?”

Will yanked open the car door and I slid inside; he got in across from me and hit the automatic door locks. My heart did a little double-tap and I felt a tiny nervous fist forming in the pit of my gut.

“What are you doing, Will?”

He turned to me. “You’re the Vessel, Sophie. How could you not know that?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it dumbly. “Come again?”

“It’s you. You’re it.”

I put my hand to my chest, feeling the regular thump of my heart. “It’s me?”

Will just nodded.

“I’m a vessel?” My eyes widened. “So, am I filled with souls in limbo?”

I had an image of opening my mouth, seeing the mournful souls trying to climb over my tongue and teeth, trying to climb over one another to get out.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

I kicked open the car door and leaned out, the familiar comfort of San Francisco’s moist night air rushing over me in waves. I stared down at the concrete until the toes of Will’s sneakers came into view. I gradually rose up and Will was hunched next to me, a compassionate grin on his face.

“You okay?”

“I don’t understand.” Will just shrugged and my emotional pendulum swung back to frustration. “How can I be the Vessel? How could I be the Vessel and not know it? I can’t even eat sushi without getting a little queasy; how could I possibly have the souls of millions of people inside me? I mean, wouldn’t that be a little obvious? Wouldn’t it make me—schizophrenic or something?”

Will patted my leg and I was surprised at how comforting the gesture was. “It’s going to be okay, Sophie. Knowing you’re the Vessel isn’t going to change anything. You’ve probably always been this way.”

“Probably? So, there is a chance that I was normal once? And I got, what—infected—with the Vessel?”

“I really don’t think it works that way.”

“This is nuts. I’m the Vessel and—and—you’re the guardian.”

Will grinned his cute, boyish grin and did a little hand flourish that really pissed me off.

“You’re my guardian? No offense, Will, but has anyone ever told you that you’re crap at your job?”

Will’s smile dropped and he pressed his lips into a thin line, the annoyance obvious. “Thanks for the confidence boost, love, but you don’t exactly make my job easy. Getting into desperate situations, living with a vampire, running off to demon bars ...”

I did a mental head slap. “That’s right! You were in Heaven that night.”

“That night Arsenal was down two-oh. It wasn’t heaven for me.”

A thunderbolt of anger roiled through me. “I get pummeled by a pixie in black leather because you were watching a soccer game?”

Will sucked in his cheeks. “It’s called football, love.”

“Great. Half the immortal world wants to kill me and my guardian is watching”—Will’s nostrils flared and I continued smugly—“soccer.”

He pushed himself up to a standing position and started to mumble to himself, his grumbling just loud enough for me to hear.

“The past guardians had to watch over things like mayonnaise jars and dinosaur bones. I come up to bat and they stash the ol’ Holy Roller in a gorgeous bird with a fallen angel for a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whispered.

Slowly, I felt all the air leave the car. My chest felt heavy with the effort to breathe and I sunk back into the bucket seat.

Had Alex always known?

My throat went dry and when I tried to swallow; I was wracked with a choking cough that turned into uncontrollable sobs. Through my tears, I saw Will looking at me, his face contorted in concern and confusion. I felt his hand on my shoulder, patting softly, if awkwardly.

“Do you think—do you think Alex knew the whole time?”

Will raked a hand through his hair; when he brought the same hand down to rest on his hip I stiffened. Will’s gaze followed mine and he jammed his fisted hand in his jeans pocket. I sprang up and grabbed his wrist, glaring at his hand.

“What is this?”

Will shook my hand off and crossed his arms in front of his chest, both hands shoved in his armpits.

“I got a little scratch, so what?”

“That’s not a scratch, it’s a bite mark.” I pulled his hand out again, examined the little purple half-moon between his thumb and forefinger, and remembered the attack after the Giants game. “And it’s mine. It was you.”

Will shook me off and started to walk around the car, dangling his keys as he went. “So, back to your apartment then?”

I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You tried to kill us.”

“Get in the car, love.”

Will’s sexy English accent was quickly losing its appeal. I crossed my arms. “No.”

“Get in the car.”

“Not until you tell me why you were trying to kill us.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to kill him.” He sunk into the driver’s seat and leaned toward me. “Now get in the car, love.”

I jumped into the passenger seat and turned down the radio that had inexplicably gone up to car-filling volume.

“You attacked us.”

“No, I attacked him. I was doing my job. I was saving you.”

I gaped. “From a few moments of normalcy?”

“You are the Vessel of Souls. You were alone with a fallen angel. Do the math.” He stepped hard on the gas and I flopped back into my seat.