Riders

by Veronica Rossi

  Daryn takes the four cuffs into her open palms. Each of them loosens and dissolves, transforming into dust. Into light and shadow and fire. They hover above her palms, turning in circles. But then they meld together and form a sphere. A small marbled globe, floating above her open hands.

  Daryn steps back and the sphere expands, reaching her height and then larger. Twice her height. It turns in front of her, a world spinning above the trampled grass. A small universe of fire and water, ice and steel. Every element. Every star and every ocean. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  Miraculous.

  It’s the only word.

  Samrael comes to Daryn’s side and gazes at it with a look of triumph. “Now cede it to me,” he says.

  Daryn shakes her head, and tenses. Then I hear the distant howl of wind as a point of pure darkness appears on the sphere.

  Samrael is focused on it, like he’s the one feeding it, building it.

  He is.

  I know he’s tainting it. I know how it feels to be tainted by the Kindred.

  As the darkness expands, I see that it’s a tunnel.

  A porthole.

  And through it, mountains appear. They’re the same jagged Wyoming peaks, but they’re cloaked in ice and it’s night there. The ground is a smooth sheet of ice and the trees are coated with frost.

  The wind howls louder and pushes at my back. It scatters leaves and rustles the trees around the clearing.

  It’s the pull of that place. An evil, leeching hunger. The kind I’ve seen in Ra’om’s eyes.

  Daryn staggers away from the porthole, but Samrael steps closer. He stands before it, gazing at the frozen world inside. His dark clothes whip with the force of the wind. He’s mesmerized by what he sees. A refuge. A kingdom. An empire made of the same malevolent hunger that exists inside him. That feeds him.

  I don’t see Sebastian until he’s running.

  Running with effort. Like every step is a struggle.

  But Samrael has his back turned and he’s not expecting the collision.

  Sebastian slams into him and they catapult forward.

  They pitch into the porthole—and are instantly sucked inside.

  Vanished.

  Gone.

  I loose sight of them and the passage pinholes shut. The sphere unravels in a violent tumble of elements, disappearing in a swirl at Daryn’s hands.

  Daryn clutches her hands close and bows her head. Her breath is ragged and her back shakes.

  Spent.

  She’s spent by what she’s just done.

  What has she done?

  “Sebastian,” Jode says with an exhale.

  Then a deafening roar pulls my attention up.

  Ra’om is ripping down the sky, coming right at us.

  CHAPTER 58

  I swing into Riot’s saddle and tear toward Daryn. It’s a short distance, but Riot struggles. His gait is lopsided and he’s grunting with every stride. Dismounting, I reach Daryn in three strides.

  “Gideon,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes. “It was supposed to be me! I didn’t know Bas would do that! It was supposed to be me!”

  “We’ll get him back.” Sebastian’s scales are looped around my left arm. They give me hope that he’s still alive. “We’ll get him.”

  Ra’om sweeps down from the sky, strafing the cabins and trees with fire. Ronwae and her scorpions attack with no fear of death. They were moments away from attaining what they wanted. Failure has driven them mad, but I’m no different.

  Vengeance beats through me like a pulse. I’m blinded by it. I know I am. All I want to see is the destruction of the Kindred who are left. All I want to do is join Jode and Marcus in demolishing Ronwae’s scorpions.

  Ra’om dives on us from above. Daryn and I lunge away, and Riot bolts. The dragon’s huge talons gouge the dirt where we’d just stood. He climbs into the sky, pumping his massive wings, his long tail stretched out behind him.

  “He won’t stop,” Daryn says. Her tears are gone. Now there’s only fierce determination. In her hand is a small globe, alive with colors swirling inside it. I know it’s our cuffs, formed together. Our way back to Sebastian. “I have to get this somewhere safe.”

  “And you, Daryn,” I add, because now I know. It’s not only the key. It’s the keeper.

  Riot comes back to us, bobbing his head. His breathing has become short and raspy. Shadow is with him and she’s distraught, her movements jerky and her eyes wild. I know she’s searching for Bas.

  “I’ll take her.” Daryn grabs Shadow’s reins. She steps into the stirrup and mounts the black mare. Shadow dances anxiously, but Daryn is firm and Shadow settles under her confidence.

  “Daryn, wait,” I say, before she leaves. I take Riot’s reins. He jerks his head up, his amber eyes glowing with defiance. He wants to stay with me, but I can’t let him. Not with blood hissing from the gashes on his thigh. “Go, Riot.”

  Daryn rides, and my horse goes with her, the fire rising over his legs.

  Then I’m alone, surrounded by war.

  Ready.

  I see that Jode and Marcus have taken Ronwae down together. The red scorpion has no stinger. It’s been severed, along with both claws. Jode is pumping arrow after arrow into her body as she shrieks. After what Ronwae did to Sebastian, it’s not ruthless enough for me.

  In the sky, Ra’om is easily contending with the two F-22s that have finally arrived. He twists and dives through the air, more agile than the planes. A perfect aerial predator.

  I watch him as he sails down, blowing fire over the cabins, and I try to find his weakness. His eyes … his nostrils … the underside of his body … his joints …

  You’re mistaken, Gideon. I’m protected there, too.

  “You’re lying,” I reply, watching him high above. “But that’s okay. I’ll find a better way to kill you.”

  He tucks his wings and plunges. In just seconds, he pulls up in the clearing in front of me with a thud that shakes the earth.

  Ra’om unfolds himself, drawing up to his full size. There’s a challenge in his red eyes. Pride, in his erect posture and the curve of his long neck.

  You should have accepted my offer when you had the chance.

  I walk toward him. “You’re nothing without Samrael. He was stronger than you. What have you ever done but hide? You just show up for the glory. But there is no glory now, is there?”

  Ra’om unfurls his neck and lifts his head high as he shuts his eyes. Fire tumbles from his mouth, rolling into the sky like a glowing orange wave. The sound of his anger penetrates through me, shredding across the woods and shaking the mountains.

  I keep walking. “You know what I think, Ra’om? Samrael was never going to take you with him. He thought you were weak. He told me so.”

  No. He’s my kin! Samrael is waiting for me. I’ll join him and when I do, I’ll take you with me. You’ll bow to me, Gideon. I will break you. You will be mine.

  Pride, I think, as I keep approaching him. That’s his weakness.

  Earned pride, Gideon. My pride is earned. You think you can defeat me with your sword and your one hand?

  “Yes.” I lift my sword. “I don’t even think I need this,” I say, calling it back. “You’re just a giant lizard with wings. Except butt-ugly.”

  Ra’om lowers his head and extends his long neck. I know what’s coming. It’s what I wanted.

  Grabbing Bastian’s scales from my arm, I firm my grip on them—and run.

  The fire comes like a wave and I keep running blindly through the flames. Run toward where I last saw him. Toward where I need him to still be.

  Run.

  Head down. Eyes closed. Feet digging.

  When I’m through the fire, I’m almost at his lowered wing. I step on it and jump, throwing myself onto his neck as I whip the scales out, holding on to one end. The chain loops around Ra’om’s neck and locks. I jam my handless arm under it—then my face slams against dragon scales as Ra’om surges into the sky
.

  I grab the chain and hold on with everything I have as he shoots higher, higher, and my stomach isn’t with me anymore. It’s somewhere hundreds of feet below.

  Ra’om makes a sharp turn and I twist, almost falling off. He makes another, trying to throw me. I hold on tight and catch a glimpse of the clearing far below. The cabins are just burning points. Ra’om thrashes and turns. Cold wind pushes against my face and my eyes water. His scales are smooth, impossible to hold on to, and I know I only have seconds.

  I call my sword. I can’t reach Ra’om’s eyes and his scales are too thick where I am.

  You should’ve thought of that beforehand.

  He rolls into a shallow dive.

  Do you remember, Gideon, sitting in the truck while your father fell? Do you remember how you felt as he looked at you in that last moment?

  He levels his flight and banks to the left, and the mountainside shoots past, a blur of trees and snow and rock.

  Do you remember how you felt when he struck the ground? How you felt as you stood over him, watching the blood pool in his ear and then spill onto those red bricks?

  “I remember,” I say, adjusting my grip on the sword. “But you’re going to have to do better.”

  I’ve forgiven myself. I know it wasn’t my fault.

  Ra’om turns his head in surprise.

  His eyes are close, but he’s given me a better option. A perfect angle into his ear canal. I reach out and drive my sword in, pushing until I can’t anymore.

  His body goes slack beneath me, his wings lose their tension, and I’m floating for an instant. Then I’m falling.

  Out of the sky, but I have no fear.

  Riot finds me. He wraps around me and I fold in.

  Then we fly as fire.

  As one.

  CHAPTER 59

  On the ground, I find Marcus and Jode waiting for me in front of the cabin where I spent the better part of the day tied to a chair. It’s the only cabin untouched by Ra’om’s fire.

  Suarez is here too, and a handful of other people. They’ve been talking for half an hour. Or maybe an hour. It could be five minutes.

  I tuned out after I asked about Texas, whose real name is Travis Low. He’s been airlifted to a hospital, but I’ve been assured he’s doing fine.

  A Blackhawk helicopter sits in the distance and armored trucks make a line along the road. There are flares everywhere. People everywhere. Lights have been set up around the field. A light snow is falling.

  It finally sinks in that it’s over. I’ll get to see my mom … Anna. I’ll get to go home.

  But Sebastian won’t.

  Then I see Cordero and my mind empties of everything else.

  She walks up with Major Robertson.

  The expression on his face seems oddly informal and warm. I don’t like it. Then I look into the dark eyes of the woman I’ve spent the past hours with. Anger shoots through me—hot and sharp—and Riot snorts behind me.

  “Steady, Riot,” Jode says, moving to my horse.

  “This is Natalie Cordero,” Robertson says. “She’s with the Defense Intelligence Agency. The Kindred detained her at a nearby location.”

  Cordero doesn’t offer her hand. “I’ve been investigating these kinds of matters for a long time, Private Blake,” she says simply. “This time, I got closer than I would have liked.”

  I understand why they brought Cordero and me together now, rather than later. Clear the air. Right away before resentment can fester. But I’m not ready for this and I might never be. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at her without thinking of Malaphar. She must sense it, because she excuses herself and leaves with Robertson.

  “Where’s Daryn?” I ask Marcus. I’ve been afraid to ask, I realize. Because if Daryn were here, then she’d be here. With us. With me.

  Marcus runs a hand over his head and looks at me. “She’s gone.”

  “We saw her last with Shadow.” Jode says, watching me closely. “Shadow wouldn’t settle. Daryn said she was going to walk her. Get her away from here to see if it would help … but she hasn’t come back.”

  We look at each other, and the question is right there.

  Will Daryn come back? Or did she just abandon Sebastian in that hellish world?

  Is that it?

  Is he gone?

  Whatever Daryn’s done, or has to do, or will do, I can’t be angry with her. I’ve had the easy job. Slaying demons. She has the tough one. Following orders, even when it means hurting people you care about. She’s much stronger than I am. But I know her. I know that wherever she is, she’s suffering.

  Someone comes up, wanting to look at my hand. At the place where my hand used to be attached to the rest of me. But Marcus snarls and the guy practically falls on his face as he rushes to leave.

  He’s such an asshole, Marcus. It makes Jode shake his head. It makes me wish Bastian were here to say something Bastian-ish to Marcus. Don’t throw stones at people who live in brick houses.

  The three of us stand and talk as floodlights go up. As demon bodies are photographed, crated, and hauled away. We stand and watch the snow fall. Watch as it erases the evil that occurred here.

  Suarez brings blankets. We throw them over our backs and search for things to say to each other, but no topic is safe. No topic helps us forget. But we try. We take turns making meaningless words, prolonging the moment. Stretching out now, because later is no good. Later will only be more of this—an accumulation of this feeling that none of us can escape.

  We’re lost.

  We have nowhere to go. Nothing to do without Daryn’s guidance.

  Riot nudges me in the back. I turn and look at him. He’s been making my neck sweat with his hot breath. Melting snow into puddles at my feet. I look into his big amber eyes and wish he could fix this for me, too.

  We stand around in our blankets and watch the snow, but Sebastian and Shadow never join us, and neither does Daryn.

  Still, we stand.

  None of us calls what we did a victory.

  CHAPTER 60

  “We’ll be right back,” Anna says to me.

  I look from her to Jode, whose arm is over her shoulder.

  Jode. And my sister.

  I still can’t wrap my head around it.

  “Where are you going?” I ask her.

  Anna rolls her eyes. “To get something to drink, Gideon. Relax. We’re not running away together.”

  Jode just laughs at me. They round Freedom Hall, heading to a tent set up with refreshments and food.

  My mom slips her arm through mine. “How are you doing with this?”

  “Well,” I say. “On the one hand, I want to kick his ass. On the other hand—oh, wait. I only have one hand, so. I want to kick his ass.”

  My mom shakes her head at me. She hates it when I pull that one—about my hand. But I use it all the time. It’s amazing how many expressions are based around hands. I have to hand it to you. In good hands. Out of hand. I notice them all now. I’m keeping a mental list so one day I can make Bas laugh. Someday it’ll happen.

  “I meant how are you doing with this,” Mom says. Her eyes move to the group of soldiers standing a little way off.

  The ceremony celebrating the newest graduates of RASP just concluded. Thirty-nine soldiers have donned the tan berets of the 75th Ranger Regiment for the first time. Private Marcus Walker finished at the top of the class.

  Marcus looks about fifteen pounds lighter than he did a few months ago when he enlisted. He was always shredded, but now he’s ridiculous. I’m going to have to step up my workouts to keep us even.

  “I’m good,” I answer. “My baby’s all grown up.”

  She smiles and squeezes my arm. “It’s incredible that he did this, Gideon.”

  In the beat of silence that follows I hear the words she doesn’t say: for you.

  I didn’t ask Marcus to enlist and become a Ranger. He and I never actually talked about why he did this, but it’s obvious. To me. To Jode �
�� to everyone.

  With a prosthetic left hand, finishing the course wasn’t an option for me. Supposedly I’ll be getting a mechanical hand soon, one that’s almost as agile and responsive as a real hand. When they find out you’re War, the government goes out of their way to keep you happy. But RASP and I weren’t meant to be. Plenty of guys who are Rangers become amputees. But amputees don’t become Rangers.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of me wants to be standing where Marcus is. Surrounded by other guys who went through the program. Who persevered together, and formed a bond because of it. But I have done that. It’s just that my own graduating class is much smaller.

  Five of us were there at the beginning.

  Now we’re only three.

  I can’t dwell on that right now, though. Not today. Maybe I’m not directly honoring my dad’s memory, but it’s better this way. Marcus isn’t just doing this for my dad and me. He’s doing this for himself too. It’s a pretty awesome trifecta.

  “He’s done good,” I say.

  Mom nods and squeezes my arm. “You all have.”

  As I watch, Marcus shakes Colonel Nellis’s hand. Then they both look to me and snap a salute, which I return.

  Mom wanders away to talk to some of the other parents. I watch her approach an older couple and introduce herself as Gideon Blake and Marcus Walker’s mother. That’s a first, but not surprising. Marcus and my mom had a bond from day one. She loved him about as quickly as I hated him—in the beginning.

  Mom didn’t ask a single question when I brought both him and Jode back to Half Moon Bay with me, straight from Wyoming. She’d just lined us up and asked us what we liked to eat. Then she’d broken up the chores between us. Laundry, trash, dishwasher. Like, Fall in, children. You can either belong here or you can belong here. And by the way, I’m choosing for you.

  Greatest woman in the world. Well. Right at the top.

  The three of us spent the first few weeks on self-imposed lockdown. We played a million hours of video games. We ate a hundred of Mrs. C’s olallieberry pies. We started praying together, for Bas. I taught Jode and Marcus how to surf, while I figured out how to surf with one hand.