Riders

by Veronica Rossi

  I sat back and thought about what she’d told us that afternoon at the diner. We were fighting demons. I’d been so focused on keeping us safe and on getting us on this plane, I hadn’t had a chance to think about it yet. Now all I had was time.

  As a soldier in the US Army, I was prepared to do whatever was asked of me because I believed, down to my soul, that the uniform I’d wear as a Ranger represented the defense of liberty and freedom, and the country I love. I’d chosen to serve because I could fight and because until wars stopped happening, people like me were needed. I had zero problem doing whatever it took to keep harm from coming to innocent people. Zero problem. Period, exclamation point, and freakin’ hooah.

  I hadn’t had that kind of clarity since I’d become War, though. I hadn’t known what I was fighting for—or really, against. But sitting in that dark cargo plane, it started coming together for me. My enemies were demons, but it was still my duty to protect the innocent. Realizing that was a huge relief.

  After chewing on that for a while, I still wasn’t tired. I thought about how Bastian could call up his scales and his horse so easily. I needed that kind of proficiency with my tools. For a while I tried to summon my sword by focusing on the cuff and thinking, Here. Appear. Now. Then I tried praying, which I hadn’t done in a really long time. That didn’t work but I felt better afterward, like I’d been missing out. Then I tried meditating, which I’d never done and ended up sucking at. Nothing worked. The sword eluded me, so.

  I moved on.

  At the airport, I’d asked Daryn to buy me a travel guide of Italy. I pulled that and my penlight from my pack and spent a couple hours reading it, paying extra attention to the maps of Rome and to the major transportation outlets—train stations, bus stations, waterways, et cetera. I’d always done okay in school, but my mind worked much better for missions. When details mattered, I was capable of storing away a ton of material. I sucked that guide down. By the time we were over Arkansas, I had a solid map of Rome in my head and some ideas for how to handle getting us safely off the cargo plane onto Italian ground.

  With my eyes burning from the lateness and the reading, I put the book away. Aiming the penlight at my companions, I ascertained that Marcus and Sebastian were still asleep. Marcus was twitching like mad, having the nightmare of his life, which pleased me greatly. A few feet past him, Daryn was only pretending to sleep. This I deduced because when I put the light on her face, she flipped me off.

  I sat back, smiling at the darkness for a minute. Then I grabbed my radio, and brought it close to my lips before I could talk myself out of it.

  “Special Agent Daryn Martin. Come in please, Ms. Martin. This is War. Over.”

  Over the drone of the engines, I couldn’t hear my message register on her radio, but she did. I saw her digging around in her bag. A few seconds later, her voice came through my radio.

  “Yes, Gideon?”

  I pressed the talk button. “You will?”

  “I will what?”

  “I just asked you to come over here and you said yes.”

  “You didn’t ask that.”

  “But you answered anyway. Come here.”

  “No.”

  “You’re messing up the balance of the plane. We’re going to fly in circles unless you come here.”

  “Your ego’s weighing that side down just fine.”

  I laughed. “Is that another no?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “What did you write about me in your notebook?”

  Now she laughed but not into the radio. I heard it far away, under the sound of the engines.

  “Actually, I was writing about you. You were really great tonight. Thanks for getting us here. I knew you would, but … thanks.”

  I stared at my radio. Had she written about what I’d done or about me? There was a pretty big difference. But it was still awesome. It’d been a long time since praise had hit me that hard. Weird, because she was basically still a stranger. I’d been with her for days and I still knew almost nothing about her. That gave me an idea.

  I pressed the talk button. “Daryn. Tell me three things about yourself. Think of it as my reward for a job well done. Just three. They can be anything.”

  There was a long stretch of nothing but engine drone. I kept waiting for her to tell me no. Bastian and Marcus were still sound asleep.

  “Okay,” she said, finally. “Three things. First one … I have a sister. Her name is Josie. Josephine. She’s four years older than me and she’s a science nerd. Ask her anything about the planets, or about the weather, or the periodic table or any random sciency thing, and she knows the answer. She’s so smart. She knew from the time she was little that she wanted to be a doctor. I bet she’ll be starting medical school soon. She wanted to go to Purdue. I bet that’s where she’s going. Josie—she does the things she says she’s going to do. She’s amazing like that and … and I miss her.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.

  “Two hundred and eighty-one days ago. And that should count as the second thing since I just answered another quest—”

  I hit the talk button. “That was a subset of the first thing and don’t joke around about this. I busted my ass for these so no cutting corners.”

  “You get mad so easily,” she said, laughing.

  “You drive me to it. That’s why.”

  “So, it’s not because you have a temper?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Thing number two, go.”

  “Okay. Thing number two. Well, let’s see … I spent three months in a mental institution last year—how’s that? It was right when I first started blacking out and waking up knowing things. Before I really understood. I thought I was going crazy. Literally, I thought so because my mom suffers from depression and anxiety, and it’s bad sometimes. Really hard on her. On all of us. My whole family. So when I started passing out, the doctors thought it was mental illness again, only manifesting in a different way. And I guess I did too at first. My psychiatric team—I had a team—strongly suggested committing me. My parents agreed and I didn’t disagree, so I ended up at this private hospital in Maine.

  “I actually had to break out of there or I’d probably still be there. You’d have been proud of me. It was totally Escape from Alcatraz. I had to dig a hole and crawl under a fence. I gouged my back doing that. It hurt so much. It gave me a big scar that I can only see when I look in a mirror—three lines running down my back like a tiger almost caught me. It was pretty gross when it was new. But I did it. I got out and I haven’t been anywhere near there or my home since.”

  My pulse had picked up, hearing all that. I wanted to shoot into the past and help her bust out of that place in Maine. And I wanted to know more about her. A lot more. “Why haven’t you gone home?”

  “Because nothing is different. This is my life. This never ends for me. I always have to leave. I always have to go where I’m needed. And it would just be too hard to see my family, then have to say good-bye. It’d be too hard for them. I do what I can to make it easier. A few months ago I sent them a postcard from Croatia, telling them I was traveling around the world finding myself and not to worry. I hope it helped. It’s better than if they knew the truth.”

  I could relate to that. I’d left Anna and my mom without an explanation or good-bye.

  “Are you turned off yet?” Daryn asked. “Are you picturing me in a straitjacket?”

  “Was that your plan? Nice try, Martin. But it backfired. I like you even more now.”

  That last part wasn’t supposed to come out but there it was. And there it stayed, second after second. I had no idea what she thought of it. None. My confidence was dying a thousand deaths.

  Then she said, “Don’t you want to hear thing number three?”

  I pressed the talk button. “Sure do. Lay it on me.” I was ready for things three through a hundred.

  “This one’s a little different. It’s something I’m just realizing, kind of a revelat
ion, and it’s that … it’s that your eyes are my favorite.” Her voice had gone all gentle and soft, so I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right until she kept going. “They’re amazing. So blue and direct sometimes. Other times, when you’re not being sarcastic or contrary, when you’re listening or when you’re just driving, there’s such humor in them. Such humor and kindness. Then there are the times I catch you watching me, and what I see in them makes me forget everything. What I am, and what I do, and … I’m just a girl again. A girl who gets a million butterflies in her stomach over a boy with the prettiest blue eyes. It feels so normal. So normal and so good.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know how to speak anymore. My heart was going ballistic in my chest. Finally I got it together enough to respond. “So what you’re telling me is that I make you feel average?”

  She laughed. “Yes. You make me feel perfectly ordinary. It’s the best.”

  “Daryn … Dare. Just come over here.” I didn’t say “please,” but it was all over my voice. I wanted her with me. I was losing my mind, I wanted that so badly.

  But I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Every second that passed felt like she was putting mile after mile between us again. If this was her life—postcards from Croatia?—then I was beginning to understand the distance she needed. Not easy to get attached to people when you were always leaving. Coming from a military family, I knew about that.

  “We should get some rest,” she said. “Special Agent Daryn Martin, signing off. Good night, Gideon.”

  “Night, boss.”

  I shut off my radio. But I didn’t fall sleep for a long while after.

  CHAPTER 34

  I woke up hungry, tired, and partially deaf, but ready to coordinate our ingress into Italy. Four stowaways climbing out of a cargo plane on the Fiumicino Airport tarmac were bound to attract some attention, so. Time to plan.

  I stood, stretched, and put Lia back in her cage, giving her one of my granola bars. Sebastian and Marcus were both awake, but Daryn was still out cold, using my Giants sweatshirt as her pillow.

  I thought about our conversation over the radios. I wanted to get smart about depression so I could talk with her about it without sounding like an idiot. The scar on her back? Definitely wanted to see that. She’d acted like it was ugly, but no way. It just couldn’t be. And the last thing she’d said? Mind-blowing.

  I checked my watch and decided to let her sleep a little longer. We still had some time before we landed. We’d left Los Angeles at 11:55 p.m. Direct flights from LA to Rome took around twelve hours, and we’d gained nine hours in time-zone difference. That added up to it being night again in Rome when we’d land, somewhere around the 9:30 p.m. range, local time. Night was good. Darkness gave us more options. I set my watch. If I’d estimated everything correctly we had about thirty minutes until we touched down.

  Moving to the rear of the plane, where there was more room, I presented the objective of deplaning without getting arrested to Marcus and Bastian.

  “I’ll handle it,” Marcus said, before I’d finished. “I got an idea.”

  I aimed my penlight on him. “No. Not unless you run your idea by me and I approve it.”

  He scowled, squinting at the light. “I don’t answer to you. You think ’cause you were in the Army for a month, you know everything? You don’t know nothin’ about the real world.”

  I didn’t know who’d told him I was in the Army—Bastian or Daryn. Either way I didn’t appreciate it.

  “We find Contempt and I’m gone,” Marcus said.

  “You mean Conquest,” Bas offered.

  “You already found contempt, bro.”

  “Who you calling bro?” He shoved me in the chest.

  I escalated immediately by throwing a punch, but Sebastian shot between us and I couldn’t avoid him. I tagged the back of his head, sending him sprawling. Marcus came in and swung at me. I took a grazing hit to the forehead, but it still rocked me. My head went flying and I had to follow it. I collided with a steel pallet.

  Lia was barking now. I knew Marcus was coming for more—but the sound of the landing gear whining stopped me.

  Two things hit me then. Actually three. The first was Marcus, who took advantage of my momentary lapse of focus to punch me across the temple. The second was the fact that Bastian and Daryn stood nearby in a panicked discussion about how to handle us. Third was that my timeline calculations had been way off. We were beginning our descent now.

  At Marcus’s punch, I saw brightness, the painful kind, mirrors under the sun, then red like bursting capillaries. When my vision came back, Daryn and Bastian had positioned themselves between me and Marcus. They were talking, but I couldn’t hear much. Just something-something-something shadow.

  “Whose shadow?” Marcus asked Bas.

  “My horse,” Bastian explained. “I named her that. It seemed like she should have a name.” He glanced at me, all worried looking. “Lia has a name, so why shouldn’t my horse?”

  “I think he should summon her when we land,” Daryn said.

  I stood there for a second, trying to catch up. Then I said, “What the—?”

  The floor shook as the wheels touched down.

  We all staggered, then froze. Even Lia stopped barking. We were in Rome.

  Italy.

  And we still didn’t have a plan.

  “Call her, Bastian,” Daryn said. “Summon her now.”

  “No! Do not call her, Sebastian.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Gideon! You said Daryn was in charge!” Sebastian cried. Then he closed his eyes for a second and that was it.

  Shadow came up the same way she had at the studio lot—black smoke twisting and filling in the shape of a horse until she solidified and stood right there, between the pallets and the rear door. Her beauty struck me again, all hollowed-out darkness. In the murky light of the cargo hold, you could’ve missed her completely if she’d been standing still, but she wasn’t. As soon as she took form, she started dancing nervously, the dim light catching on the shift of muscle and mane, her hooves clanging on the steel floor.

  I looked at Marcus. His eyes were locked on Shadow and he looked legitimately shaken. I wondered if this was his first time seeing one of the horses.

  “Go to her, Bastian,” Daryn said. “You need to settle her down.”

  He moved right away, approaching the mare slowly. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s me.” He put his hands out and moved closer. Gradually Shadow’s movements became less jerky. Her eyes grew softer, settling for longer stretches on Bastian, and her ears came forward as she listened to him. Finally she let out a long snuffling breath and relaxed.

  “That’s it.” Bastian reached up and ran his fingers down her jaw. “Good girl, Shadow.” He turned to us, emotions flashing across his face—surprise, happiness, pride—and then he broke into a big grin. “She’s awesome, right? Okay, what do we do next?”

  They looked great together—both kind of spindly and right. A matching pair. And I thought of my horse—a creature that was aggression horseonified and appeared to be made of fire—and for a second there, I almost felt sorry for myself, except I had more urgent issues to handle. The plane was taxiing but it wouldn’t be for much longer.

  “Good question, Bas.” My plan had involved getting into the shipping containers. We didn’t have time for that anymore. I looked at Daryn. She’d set this thing in motion already. Time to make the most of it. “What’s next, Martin? What are we doing here?”

  “I was thinking Bastian and I will take Shadow out first? We could use her as a diversion so you and Marcus can get off the plane.”

  “Then what?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Bastian and I will bluff. We’ll act like we don’t understand the problem. If we act like we’re the ones who are confused, maybe they’ll think they messed up on their end. Maybe didn’t get the right paperwork or whatever. We’ll talk our way out of it.”

  “Got it. So we’re going with the old we Fed
Exed a horse plan. Classic. That one always works.”

  “Did you think of any better ideas while you and Marcus were beating each other up? Besides, there’s a dog on board. And what other option do we have? We can’t just walk off this plane.”

  “Daryn, twenty people parading off this plane would be better than that horse!” How was this the plan she wanted to go with? “Get rid of the horse, Sebastian. Right now.” He was our best asset—not his horse.

  He pushed his hands into his shaggy hair. “I can’t, Gideon. She just calmed down. She’s starting to trust me and if I send her—”

  We stumbled a few steps as the plane stopped taxiing.

  I grabbed Bastian’s shoulder. “Be ready to do the pass-out thing, you got me? Everyone get your stuff packed up, then don’t do anything else unless I say so.” I pulled the rope from my backpack and tied a quick slipknot at the end.

  “What’s that for?” Daryn asked.

  “You know what’s more noticeable than unloading a horse off a cargo plane? Doing it without a lead.” I shoved the rope at Sebastian. “Put it over her neck.”

  As soon as he moved toward Shadow, the horse let out a low grunt and shied back.

  “Tie her up, Sebastian.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I wasn’t. Each step he took toward Shadow only made the black mare more agitated—and then it was too late.

  A gust of night air blew past me as the rear door yawned open. The ramp began to lower. Bright artificial light sliced into the plane. Sounds came next—the rhythmic beeping of a truck backing up. Voices. They were speaking Italian but the tone was universal—the sound of people shooting the breeze as they worked.

  The ramp was halfway down when I heard a furious metallic clatter and saw a sleek black blur. Shadow launched herself out of the plane with the same flair for drama as her horseman, her long legs pushing her into the air, her tail lashing like a black whip.