I’ve missed her. But this isn’t the horse I remember.
She looks broken. Eyes wild and unsettled. Ears laid back like she’s ready to fight. Foam dripping from her mouth. Hardly any wisps of smoke curling off her legs.
She stops halfway down the ramp when she sees us and lets out a loud whinny.
Daryn is right beside her, human shoulder to horse shoulder.
“Is she looking for Bas?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “She knows he’s not here. I think she’s looking for your horses.”
I summon Riot without thinking. He torches up, rising from the ground ten feet in front of me, the only thing out here brighter than the desert. Until Jode calls Lucent. The white stallion manifests like a lightning bolt bursting up from the ground. Heavily built like Riot, but more flash and less trouble. Marcus calls his mare, Ruin, immediately after. She swirls up like gold dust and bronze ash, the most perfect of the four, built for speed and strength. Entirely beautiful.
For a long while we stand by our horses. Marcus’s mare nickers softly. Lucent stamps twice. Riot looks at me like, Just hold your horses. We got this.
Then Shadow continues down the ramp, still terrified, one shaky step at a time, Daryn right beside her, until they’re standing with us.
“She was like this the first two months, after Bas,” Daryn says, stroking Shadow’s neck. “Worse, in the very beginning. But she got better over time. With me, anyway.”
“Can you ride her?” Jode asks.
“Yes. But she can’t fold. We both lost something that day. Besides Bas.”
I know Daryn means her Sight. Jode told me earlier that she stopped having visions—that it’s the reason she waited all this time to go after Bas. I can understand it now. All these months of waiting make sense.
Last year, when my dad died, I was seventeen. Already making my own plans, paving my own path. But when big decisions come up, I miss having him to talk to. Having that sounding board. Someone who I know would steer me right. Daryn didn’t lose her father’s voice—what she lost is divine, so it’s different. Way different. On a whole other level. But it’s a loss I can relate to.
My radio chirps. “Blake, what’s with the horse show?” Suarez asks. “Cordero’s blazing mad, man. She’s starting to look like Riot. You weren’t authorized to—”
I click the button. “Suarez … static … don’t … over.” I turn the volume all the way down and drop it back in my pocket. “What do you want to do, Daryn?”
“I think we can ride to the stable if we take a wide berth around camp.”
“Okay. Let’s horse up.”
We mount up and leave the plane gaping behind us.
Shadow’s skittish the entire way, tossing her head and shying like a racehorse approaching the starting gate. The other horses become anxious, too. Riot keeps wanting us to fold, to fly, and I have to keep shutting him down.
At the stable Daryn walks Shadow into the structure, taking her time. I notice dozens of people watching from a distance.
When Shadow and Daryn are inside and finally out of sight, Riot lunges beneath me and takes off. I barely hold on, almost flipping over his back. Ruin and Lucent are on the same page; both horses tear after us across the playa, straight out into a whole lot of flat nothing.
Jode and Lucent fold first, becoming a blaze of light shooting across the blue sky. Then Marcus and Ruin blur into a stream of bronze ash. Riot and I are last. An eruption of flames sweeps me out of my physical body, to fire. Then we’re shooting over white earth.
The desert and our base camp and the mountains grow smaller, farther away, as we eat up more of the sky. I catch Jode and Marcus and we accelerate to top speed, defying sound and gravity. Pushing beyond feeling.
Soaring.
When I’m with Riot this way I’m invincible, unstoppable. I know in my soul that God gave him to me—an ally, mentor, and friend. Riot is what I got for carrying the burden of being War. For having a red temper that I constantly have to manage. With Riot, I feel grace. I feel whole in a way that only Jode, Bas, and Marcus can ever really understand.
And maybe Daryn. I wonder if being a Seeker gave her this feeling of wholeness, which she’d have lost without the Sight. Brutal.
Bas, too. Without Shadow, he’s gone without this for a long time.
Do you think Sebastian is like that, too? Wherever he is in the Rift, do you think he’s as scared as Shadow was just now? As broken?
It’s both my thought and Riot’s. But I know we’re all thinking it. Jode and Marcus, too. Lucent and Ruin. We’re all feeling this worry, no way to fix it, no immediate way to get to someone who needs us, so. We do this to make ourselves feel better.
We fly.
It almost works.
CHAPTER 11
DARYN
I find Maia waiting for me when I step out of the stable after getting Shadow settled.
“Is she okay?” she asks, adjusting the machine gun—rifle?—on her back as we walk. I never see her without it. I’m starting to think it’s her equivalent to my notebook.
“She’ll only be okay when we find Bas, but under the circumstances, yeah. She is.”
“She’s so pretty and badass. She’s my favorite of the four horses. Don’t tell Marcus.”
“She’s your favorite?” I smile. “Thanks. Mine, too. And I won’t tell.”
Maia escorts me to a meeting that’s been called at the command center. Along the way she points out the sections of Corderoville—my term, not hers. There are the living quarters where the motor homes are lined up, and where Maia informs me we’ll be sharing an RV. The supply zone, where semis loaded with provisions are parked and where the generators hum in the desert quiet. The real highlight, though, is the structure at the center where we end up—a kind of deluxe pop-up shelter.
It’s the biggest thing out here, constructed of steel supports and pieces that look like heavy canvas, covered by a metal roof that shines as brightly as the sun. It looks modern and expensive, like something out of a futuristic film. It instantly annoys me.
I don’t know why we need all of this. All we need are the horses and the orb—which is in Cordero’s possession. Which annoys me even more.
Giant Travis Low stands at the entrance with a wad of tobacco tucked into his lower lip. I don’t realize I’m shaking my head in frustration until he pulls the door open for me and says, “Let ’em have it, whoever it is.”
“Right?” Maia points a thumb at me. “We’re friends and roommates so I’m safe.”
“As long as you don’t snore,” I say.
Low likes this. He splits a grin and offers his knuckles. I knock mine into them, feeling like I’ve fist-bumped a cement block.
Inside, people are still plugging in extension cords and setting up laptops, printers, whatever. A power drill whines as it tightens screws. The people doing the work are single-minded, seeing nothing beyond what’s in front of them.
A couple of tables have been pushed together at the center. Cordero is at the head, speaking in a slow, methodical voice to the entire team like she’s delivering a presentation to the board of directors. She sees me as I take the empty seat between Marcus and Maia but she keeps talking, not missing a beat.
No, no, no. Don’t wait for me to start, Cordero. I’m only the one who controls getting us into the Rift.
Carry on.
I listen for a little while. Her report covers this location. What can be expected from the weather—warm days, cold nights. Wind. Possible stray thunderstorms. Blah blah blah, we’re not going on vacation, so why does this matter? She describes the security. There are teams at all of the main access points into the valley; drones will monitor everything else. We don’t need to worry about planes, since this piece of land is an annex to an Air Force base a hundred miles south. Call me crazy, but I wasn’t worried.
She’s clearly proud of this place. Of having pulled this together. I struggle to care. I should care. But seeing as how this meetin
g started without me, and would have happened whether I was here or not, it’s not easy.
My attention wanders to Isabel. Is she at the cabin? Waiting tables at the ranch? On her way to Peru on some other task as a Seeker?
Then it wanders to Gideon, who’s sitting right across the table, tipping back in his chair.
I haven’t had a chance to look at him, really do it, but now that we’ve reached a peace accord of sorts, I feel I can.
He’s wearing a black baseball cap turned backward and I notice his honey-blond hair is long enough to peek beneath his ears and that his nose is pink with a light sunburn. He’s gotten more muscular through the shoulders in the past few months. Broader. Not husky, but definitely stronger. That, and the newfound experience in his eyes, makes him look older.
I wonder if he runs or lifts weights, and if so, if it’s tougher to do with his prosthetic or if it makes no difference.
I’ve always had this feeling around him like he’s bigger than the space he occupies—that hasn’t changed. Some people have presence like that. They’re noticeable without trying to be. It’s his innate confidence, I think. He looks like he never feels the need to be anyone other than himself. It’s compelling. A spatially tangible confidence.
Gideon’s eyelids have been growing heavier as I’ve been watching him. Desire kindles inside me and speeds up my pulse, just like when he treated my back. He’s not trying to look sexy. But it’s happening anyway. When he stifles a yawn, I find myself smiling.
Until his blue eyes slide over to me.
I look past him, like the power-drill action in the back is really interesting.
Civil and professional, Daryn. Civil and professional.
Cordero is still going on about “camp” like soon we’ll be paddling in canoes and roasting s’mores. “No one goes anywhere after dark alone. Camp lights will run all night but this playa is one hundred and twenty square miles. Getting lost is still a real danger. Okay. Let’s take a quick fifteen-minute break before we turn to the mission plan.”
People start heading to the coffee station set up in the back.
“A break?” I say. “It’s almost three. Shouldn’t we get going?” Cordero looks up from her yellow pad. “Aren’t we going back in tonight?”
“Hello, Daryn. We’re going to make our foray into the Rift tomorrow morning.”
“Why not this afternoon?”
“We’re still getting set and we need to create a strategy. We’re not going to charge in there without a plan.”
The condescension in her voice is almost imperceptible. But it’s enough to make the blood roar in my ears. “How long does it take to create a strategy?”
“Reasonably?” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Until tomorrow morning. There are a lot of variables to consider. Terrain assessment. Threat assessment. Search procedures. Contingencies. Communication between the two teams, and so on.”
I’m so tired of hearing about teams I’m not part of. “What teams?”
“It’s on the other side of your agenda,” Ben offers.
I flip over the paper in front of me and see the breakdown. The three guys, which I had expected. But then I see Travis Low. Jared Suarez. Maia Goss. Natalie Cordero. Ben Halpern. “I don’t understand. Are all these people going in, too? Why?”
“It’s safer. We can get spread out and get more accomplished.”
“It’s not safer! We don’t need them. They’ll just end up getting hurt.” I look at Marcus beside me. “It should just be us.”
“But it won’t be,” Cordero says impatiently, like she’s answering the questions of a simpleton. “You told me there are dozens of the Harrows. ‘Maybe even more’ were your exact words. Everyone on the list is highly trained and has experience in combat. And Ben and I will be gathering data that could prove indispensable.”
“Okay, great. Sounds like it’ll be a great party.” I get up and toss the agenda on the table. “Enjoy your coffee and your fancy mobile center and your printed agenda. Let me know when you want to get Bastian. I’m ready.”
* * *
I go right back to Shadow.
One of the military guys is posted at the portable stable. He wears reflective sunglasses and a deadly smile that reminds me of a crocodile. I have no idea who he is, but he lets me in without question, and says nothing when I bring her out ten minutes later, tacked up and ready to ride.
I mount up and take her straight out into the desert.
After a few minutes I feel her stride lengthening, her muscles loosening, and it feels good to be with her, only her, though I’m sure that up in the fading blue sky somewhere a drone is keeping tabs on me.
If I had the orb, I’d go back in there after Bas right now. Maybe I don’t have what it takes to fight a bunch of terrifying Harrows, but I’d try. I’ve gone past the point of waiting. I’ve become allergic to wasting time. Finding Bas feels possible and urgent.
And I want to see my mother again. I need to tell her I didn’t abandon her. That I didn’t leave because I was trying to hurt her. I left because I love her. Because I couldn’t stand to see her so sad and not know how to help.
Cordero said she was sure it wasn’t Mom inside the Rift. But somehow it doesn’t matter to me, I realize. She felt real. I just want to see her again. And right now, Mom inside the Rift is closer to me than Mom in Connecticut.
The sun is setting as I return to camp. I find the other horses in stalls by Shadow’s. Riot, Ruin, and Lucent look ridiculous penned like normal horses, and I laugh as the steel walls of their enclosures begin to make sense to me, considering Riot. Someone must have thought it would help Shadow to be with them—and it’s a great idea. I think it will help. And I think I know who the “someone” was.
I absorb the horses’ presence for a moment. I haven’t been alone with them since Norway. There’s a hallowed feeling in the space around them. A sense of spaciousness and quiet, like standing in a cathedral.
All three of the horses watch as I brush Shadow and weave her silky mane into three thick braids. Lucent bobs his head like he wants to be next—such a fancy-pants, Jode’s horse—but I’m starving, my body’s tired from riding, and the cuts on my lower back are pulsing with pain. I’m pretty sure some of the bandages have opened. I hug Shadow’s strong neck and leave them for the night. Food smells and the sound of conversation drift from the mess tent but I head for the RV Maia pointed out earlier as ours.
My duffel and my backpack are inside, on the full-size bed in the small room in the back. I grab them both and toss them on the twin bed set into an alcove in the narrow hallway, putting Maia’s stuff in the bedroom. I don’t need much space and I don’t want to experience any form of luxury on Cordero’s dime.
After a hot shower, I feel better but my back is bleeding again. Since my arms haven’t gotten any longer, the best I can do is press tissues against it until my shoulder sockets ache. I throw on some sweats and find a bottle of water in the minifridge, taking it down in two tilts. Then I slide into the booth and send Isabel a text to let her know things are fine. I’ve just hit send when Maia climbs into the RV.
“Pizza,” she says, raising the paper plate in her hand. “I figured you’d want to eat here. I hope Carnivore’s Delight is okay. Not a lot of vegetarians around here.”
“Yes, it’s perfect. You’re the best.” I dig in immediately. “Did you bring anything sweet?”
“Only memories.” She looks up, pretending to go starry-eyed. “Of this amazing scope I saw in Low’s hunting catalogue at dinner.”
“You’re a unique person, Maia.”
“Says the girl who opens realms. Oh, and I have this.” She reaches into her back pocket and drops a rolled-up stack of papers on the table. “Minutes from the meeting. I had to bring them. It’d be great if you could read them at some point so I don’t get fired. But do it later.” She nods toward the door, which she left open to the night. “People are hanging out in one of the trailers. Why don’t you come?”
She gestures to my clothes. “You’re all dressed up and everything.”
I laugh. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. I’m…” I don’t have a great excuse. Or even a decent one. “I’m used to being antisocial. It’s kind of my thing.”
“Nice,” Maia says. “You’d make a good sniper.”
“I snipe with pen on paper.”
“Badass, Martin. Okay. There’s a radio on the counter if you need anything, and someone’ll be patrolling outside twenty-four-seven. You good?”
“Yep. I’m good.”
“I don’t want to leave you but I’m the reigning blackjack champ and I need to defend my title.”
“I totally understand. That’s a big responsibility.”
“Right? I knew you’d get it. Okay, Martin. I’m out. Party in solitude.”
In less than five minutes I regret my decision and wish I’d gone with her. Seriously, Daryn. The social-recluse act is getting old.
I pull out my notebook and try to add to “Reasons,” but I’m too distracted and end up doodling around the margins. I try on Maia’s sniper gloves, which she left on the kitchen table. The right index finger of one of them has been cut. Trigger finger, I realize. Whoa.
Then I rummage around the kitchen and find graham crackers, but I don’t eat any. They’re Josie’s favorite and seeing them makes me miss my sister. It makes me picture her with her hair piled up, a pen clamped between her teeth as she pores over a textbook.
A knock on the RV door pulls me from my thoughts. I’m sure it’s Maia coming to convince me to be social. I pull it open, already agreeing. “Okay, I’m in! You win!”
It’s Gideon.
“Hey.” His smile goes crooked with surprise and confusion. “What’d I win?”
“Oh, hey! Hi. I thought you were someone else.”
“I knew it was too easy.”
“Easy?”
“To win something for just showing up.”
“Oh, right. Well…” I try to think of something to say that won’t add to our communication meltdown. You’re a winner in my book. Winning isn’t everything.
Seeker Page 8
