Positive, check. Nice, check. Wait—nice?
Shit. Okay.
“You seem like you’ll make a pretty good warhorse,” I said as I continued approaching him carefully. “Once you stop trying to kill me, I think we’ll do a lot better. Not that I don’t appreciate your level of aggression. If we can just refocus it, I think we should be good. There’s the other issue, too. Of you being on fire. But I see lots of potential once we figure that stuff out.” I had almost reached him. Three more steps and I’d be able to touch him.
Riot’s lips pulled back, and I was suddenly looking at a lot of big teeth.
“It’s okay,” Daryn said next to me. “That’s how horses smell. He’s just checking out your scent. Hold out your hand and let him smell you.”
“You’re sure he won’t bite me?”
“No,” she said, with a chuckle. “I’m not.”
She was going to pay for that one.
I could feel Riot’s warmth radiating around him. And I could smell him—a smell somewhere between hot pavement, hot metal, and horse sweat. I extended my hand slowly, saying good-bye to my fingers.
Riot stretched his neck, reaching forward, his mouth hovering over my palm. His breath drifted over my skin in hot puffs. I’d thought his eyes were gold, but the color was deeper. More like amber.
I noticed he had pulled back on the flames over his body. At the moment, they curled only along his tail. His jaw was solid and huge, and the strands of his mane were copper and gold and red, every thread a different shade.
“You’re one of a kind, aren’t you?” I said.
He was looked at me so directly. I felt like he wasn’t just listening to me; he was understanding. That gave me a boost of confidence.
“Okay, Big Red. I’m going to touch you now. If you’re going to burn me I’d appreciate it if … you didn’t burn me.”
I reached out and rested my hand on his neck. I felt solid muscle covered by fine soft hair that radiated heat. Warm. But I’d expected much more. He just felt like he’d been sitting in the sun.
What got to me though, after a couple of seconds, was feeling him breathe. Feeling his pulse. Feeling all the power in him. All his fire, inside and out.
If I could find a way to connect with him, it’d be mine.
He would be mine.
Maybe this was going to work out.
* * *
After that, I was on a mission to bond with him. I spent the next few days calling him up and letting him run himself out, then approaching him and resting my hand on his neck. We gradually worked up to the point where he’d let me drag my hand over his body as I walked around him. He liked this, I could tell, because he’d dial back the fire, keeping it away from me. I had yet to actually make contact with any flames on him. His red coat just felt warm, and with the weather in Jotunheimen continuing to cool, the warmth felt good.
I kept talking as I worked with him because Daryn had said I should. I told him about my mom and Anna. I told him about the San Francisco Giants and the game of baseball in general, which took forever. Riot got an education on the national pastime. I told him about RASP, which he liked the best. I’d been skipping stones into the water, in perpetual motion as usual, and he’d come right up next to me, his big hooves clopping into the shallows like he wanted to hear me better.
Even when his eyes were staring off across the fjord, I felt his attention. He listened to me even when I wasn’t speaking.
After a few days, I started pacing along the banks as I talked and he plodded along beside me, his hooves like small meteors crashing by my feet, his tail blowing along, various parts of him on fire. Riot had a lot going for him, but subtlety wasn’t his gift.
I quickly became addicted to the feeling of being with him. I grew impatient at the end of my training sessions with Marcus, eager to get back to Riot. I was first to rise and last to sleep, as always, but now it was because I wanted to spend as much time as I could with my horse.
Little things got me. How Riot would look over if I stopped talking like, Why’d you stop, Gideon? How he’d nudge my arm to let me know he wanted my hand on his shoulder. How, when we’d see the other guys with their horses, he’d become a little crazy and overprotective. And my favorite—how whenever I mentioned Daryn he’d strike a pose and torch up. Major show-off.
He was funny. Just really great company.
A couple of days into working with him, I laced up my cross-trainers and took off. He stayed right with me again, so we added running to our time together. Occasionally, we’d pass the other guys and there’d be comments. I had horseback riding all wrong, they’d say. Or they’d place bets as to when I’d jog by with a saddle on my back, Riot sitting in it. I didn’t care. I loved running on my own, but with a horse keeping pace for you?
Not many things were better than that.
But there was something better. The more time I spent with Riot, the calmer I felt and the less I saw of Ra’om’s images. I started sleeping better. My nightmares came less frequently. I could go long stretches without thinking about Samrael hitting Daryn, or seeing my father falling from a roof. At night when I looked into the darkness, I didn’t see Ra’om’s red eyes anymore—I saw Riot’s. Every day, my horse put my head just a little more to the right. He managed the impossible: He mellowed me out.
The one thing that wasn’t happening, though, was riding.
About a week in, as we approached the two-week mark in Jotunheimen, I knew the time had come to give it a try. I woke up and left for the river before anyone else had stirred. I wanted to be alone for my first attempt.
We’d had two solid days of freezing rain in a row, and our practice field was mostly mud now. Any day, I expected to see snow. Any day, I expected to see the Kindred.
I summoned Riot and he came right over to me, bobbing his head. He was excited to see me, too.
“What’s up, Big Red?” I said, smoothing my hand over his coat. He nudged me with his head, telling me to get moving. He thought we were going for a run. “We’re going to do something a little different today. Something new.”
His amber eyes held steady on me. He was ready, too.
“We’re gearing up now, Riot,” I said. I knew from the other guys that our horses’ tack came up when we mounted. I wanted to make sure Riot knew that, too. “Your saddle and bridle are coming up. Then I’m going to get on your back. I’m going to sit on you, so prepare for that, okay? Here we go.”
I reached for his withers with my right hand, and grabbed a thick bunch of red mane with my left, holding tight. I saw the flash of a stirrup, jammed my foot into it, and swung up.
Everything clicked into place—both my feet were in the stirrups, I was sitting in the saddle, the reins were even in my hands—but my first thought wasn’t about the gear. I’d underestimated Riot’s size. I was way the heck up there.
The second thing I noticed was that not only had Riot’s tack come up, but so had my armor—and—that I was on fire.
Flames rolled along my arms. They curled up from my ankles, drifting over my legs. I reached down and smoothed my hand on Riot’s neck, and the flames there flowed around me. I needed a second to wrap my head around that little development, but Riot tensed beneath me and surged forward with so much force that I almost pitched off the saddle.
Gripping with my legs, I drove my heels down like Daryn had told me to do, and held on for my life. I hadn’t expected him to be fast—he was built for power, not speed—but he was fast. The gravel riverbank became a gray blur beneath me, and the wind pressed against my face.
Since I had no riding technique to speak of, the saddle came up under me like a jackhammer. Cherished parts of my anatomy would never be the same, I was sure. Thankfully, I quickly realized that by shifting my weight onto my legs and slightly forward, it put me in synch with his gait. I took up the reins, tucked in like a jockey, and experienced true and profound exhilaration as we tore across the clearing.
Why had I waited so long to
do this? I never wanted to stop.
I wanted to ride a circle around the world.
Then I spotted Daryn and the guys coming down the trail, and the moment was over. I scrambled to recall the riding instruction I’d been given—be gentle with Riot’s mouth, use my legs to control him—and made a total mess of things, giving him mixed-up cues and cranking the reins like a brute. I got it all wrong, but somehow Riot understood what I wanted. He slowed down, trotted right over to everybody, and came to a full stop.
Sitting up in the saddle, with Daryn and the guys watching me, I was feeling pretty big-time, but my first instinct was to play everything down. Just a regular morning, tearing around a fjord on my gigantic fiery steed.
It didn’t work. I felt a grin coming on and I couldn’t hold it back for anything. I knew I looked amazing up there, with my armor and horse. All burning. I mean, how often did you see that?
“What’s up, guys?” I said, and reached down to pat Riot’s neck.
I heard someone snicker, and I peered at them. “What?”
Marcus scratched his jaw. I could tell he was trying not to smile. “Your horse, man. It’s the way he moves.”
“It’s called knee action,” Daryn said.
“Riot’s is quite high,” Jode added. He frowned and pressed his lips together, but I could hear him sputtering.
“It’s cool, G,” Bas said. “He sort of … prances. Reminds me of those Irish river dancers. You know, the ones that—”
He couldn’t even finish. He started howling. Suddenly they were falling all over themselves.
“It’s ’cause he’s so big, you idiots,” I said. “He’s like a tank. And look at all this mud. He has to have permanent four-wheel drive.”
I shut myself up, because I was only making it worse. Riot and I had to just wait it out. But I didn’t really care. I knew we were the best.
When everyone settled down, the rest of the guys mounted up, too. Shadow materialized at Bastian’s feet, and came up with him. Through him. I watched as whirling darkness spun around his legs, then moved higher, covering his body. Bas disappeared for a second, consumed by those black ribbons, then there he was, mounted on Shadow, also in armor. Horse and rider, black from hoof to hood.
I’d seen Bas fold into Shadow a few times by then. The other guys, too. They’d also been working with their mounts every day. While Riot and I were jogging, I’d seen them riding along the banks, or in elemental form. Slashes of darkness and light, zipping through the fjords. Or in Marcus’s case, a streak of pale dust. I knew Riot and I would be able to do that as well. That at some point, I’d fold into fire with him. I couldn’t wait for that. We were a little behind, but we’d get it.
Jode’s transition was faster, happening almost instantly—a flash of brightness, then he was mounted on Lucent. Much more than Sebastian, Jode had the Hollywood look, with the white horse and the lighter-colored armor. He was the only one of us who actually resembled a good guy.
Marcus summoned Ruin last. I watched swirls of ash overtake him, watched him disappear in a pale flurry, and then re-form on Ruin’s back. He had his suit’s dark hood pulled up as he settled back into shape, casting part of his face in shadow, but it didn’t hide his smile.
Daryn stepped back, getting a little distance. “You guys look scary,” she said.
But we all knew she meant scary good.
I looked around me. It was our first time that way, the four of us mounted up.
Red, white, black, and pale.
A bona fide posse.
CHAPTER 51
“Sounds impressive,” Cordero says, dryly. “I wish I could’ve seen you that way.”
You have, I think. You have.
“And your relationship with Riot sounds really touching.”
As I watch her, I can’t help but wonder. Does she have any idea how much I didn’t say just now? Can she tell?
My relationship with Riot isn’t touching.
Riot changed me.
I told him things I’ve never said to anyone.
I told him about my dad.
I remember it—walking along the river’s edge one afternoon, his reflection flickering in the water. Me, talking. Putting everything I’d been carrying around for a year into words. All the anger I felt for sitting in a truck doing nothing, when I could’ve been saving my dad’s life.
I’d lost it. I’d sat down on the gravel and cried like a baby.
Everything became clear to me in that moment. How my anger had actually been guilt. How my guilt had actually been a crutch. How that crutch was what I’d been using to avoid the pain. I felt the pain that afternoon. My heart broke on that riverbank. It felt so broken, I thought it was going to kill me. But then I’d felt hot horse breath on my forehead, and when I’d looked up, there he was. Riot. Looking at me like, I’m still right here. Get up. Let’s keep going.
And we did keep going. I did. I have.
Because of him.
My horse.
I never expected it.
That Riot would give me what I needed to let go. To move on.
But he did.
“I’m curious.” Cordero sits back in her chair and studies me. “How does it feel to become fire?”
“Indescribable.”
Cordero rubs her knuckles, and then taps her fingers on the desk. “Some people might call that a cop-out, Gideon.”
“You’re asking me what it’s like to transform into something else?”
Black eyes hold on mine.
I instantly regret opening my mouth. I’m strapped down. Defenseless.
I glance at the door.
Where the hell is Beretta? It’s been at least half an hour since he left.
Cordero notices. “He has been gone a while, hasn’t he? Maybe he got tied up.”
Cordero stands and rounds the desk, coming toward me.
“Ma’am,” Texas says, “I don’t think—”
“It’s fine,” she says, cutting him off. “I want to take a look at something.”
Cordero’s smart, approaching from my right. Steering clear of any chance I have with my sword.
Texas’s hand drifts toward his sidearm.
“I wanted to see this up close.” Cordero kneels beside me—but it’s Malaphar’s stench that invades my nose. She places her hand on my arm, and my muscles jump. A sick feeling climbs my throat. “Are your abilities linked to this?”
I can’t even answer.
“Let’s try another question,” Cordero says. “You’ve said you can sense the other riders through this, like you’re pieces of a whole. Can you sense them now?”
All I hear is Daryn’s voice.
With the four of you together, they’ll be able to track us faster.
The Kindred are attracted to its power.
I see Alevar on the streets outside the Vatican, pointing at the radio in my hand.
Not at the radio.
At my wrist.
At the cuff.
“You’re not answering. Am I invading your personal space?” Cordero says, except it’s not her voice anymore. There’s gravel in it, and it’s getting slightly deeper.
“Sorry, Gideon. It seems like I’ve made you uncomfortable.” She rises and sits on the edge of the desk, right in front of me. “You’ve been extremely helpful so far, so I’m going to bend the rules a little and tell you something I probably shouldn’t. You’ve been worried about Daryn, I’m sure. Dare. I do like it when you call her that. But you don’t need to be worried anymore.” Her smile is mocking. “She’s here. Daryn is right outside with some of my colleagues. Isn’t that great news?”
Breathe, Blake. Breathe.
Cordero smirks. “You’ve gone so quiet on me, Gideon, just as we’re reaching the final showdown. Well, I’m assuming it’s the final showdown. Maybe it isn’t. I haven’t heard the full story yet, have I? Let’s finish up. I’m sure you’re eager to see Daryn. Keep cooperating, and you’ll see that she’s doing fine.” Cordero pauses,
giving me a hellish smile. “And still in one piece.”
CHAPTER 52
In a lot of ways, the night the Kindred showed up was like any other.
The five of us were inside the hut, crammed around the tiny fireplace as we tried to stay warm. Our new hobby was betting on horse races and, not surprisingly, Jode was becoming a rich man. Our betting currency—Norwegian chocolate bars—sat in front of him like a miniature stack of gold bullion.
“Never bet against me,” he said, his mouth lifting in a cocky smile. “You’ll only regret it.”
“Can’t we have other kinds of competitions?” I asked. In elemental form, no one was faster than Lucent. In horse form, Shadow and Ruin ran pretty even. Riot and I were the only ones who never won and it was starting to get old. “Tests of strength, for example.”
Bas smiled. “How about which horse can plow the fastest? That’d be fun. Riot would definitely win that.”
“Or which horse has the finest high-step,” Jode offered.
“Or is the most conspicuous,” Daryn said.
“Weighs the most,” Marcus said.
They were having fun messing with me, but I could feel the tension beneath the surface.
Earlier that day, Daryn had told us she felt one of her headaches coming on. We were all wondering if this was going to be it. If we’d finally learn where we needed to take the key.
As the night wore on, despite our efforts to keep things light, it started to feel like we were on Daryn watch. Then as it grew even later, like we’d gotten our hopes up for nothing.
Jode was telling us about the whales he’d seen that morning when Daryn shifted closer to me and rested her head on my shoulder. Jode stumbled over his words, but he recovered quickly and kept going.
After a few seconds, Daryn closed her eyes.
Jode trailed off, abandoning the whales. “Gideon, do you think…?”
Marcus and Bas both looked like they’d stopped breathing.
“I don’t know.” I wanted to take her out of there. Or make the guys leave. Not because I didn’t trust them—I did. But Daryn had asked me the last time not to let them see.
Riders Page 27
