Ring, ring…
There was a click and for a panicked second I thought the line disconnected. Then I heard Dad’s voice: “Hello? Amber?”
“Dad,” I choked. And then the tears were flowing and I had to turn my back to the car so Emily and Tara didn’t see me blubbering and rush over to see what was wrong. Hearing his voice, I was suddenly thrown back to when I saw them at that awful, crumbling farm. The wad of dirty fabric stuffed into his mouth to muffle his screams, the gleaming tracks of fresh tears that cut through the layer of grime on his face. And beside him, my mom, similarly bound and gagged, with dried blood smeared across the side of her face.
They were alive. They were okay. They were really okay.
“Sweetheart — oh, my baby girl.” His voice grew distant for a second and I knew he was yelling over his shoulder to my mom. The quality of the audio changed; I was on speaker phone. “Are you alright?”
“Honey,” Mom said, equally tearful, “where are you?”
“Whatever they want — drugs, money, drug money — you give it them, okay?” Dad said in a rush. “You give it to them and you get out of there and you get home safe, okay?”
“Dad, no,” I laughed, which somehow made me cry harder. My chest ached. More than anything in the world, as I stood crying in the parking lot by a sketchy gas station, I just wanted a hug from my mom and dad. One of the tight bear hugs where I’m sandwiched between them and I whine and squirm and try to pull away because I don’t know how lucky I’ve got it.
Wiping my tears with my knuckles, I continued, “I’m fine. I’m not being held for ransom or anything. The girls I’m with aren’t terrorists or part of a crazy cult.” I paused, struggling with how to explain. With how much I could explain. “The guy who kidnapped you — he’s the villain in this situation. The women I’m with want to stop him. I just got kinda caught up in it all. I didn’t plan to.”
“So you can leave whenever you want?” Mom asked. “They’re not forcing you to stay?”
My heart twisted at her words. I could leave — I could go be with my family and make sure they stayed safe. But I also knew I really couldn’t. Not in good conscience. “One of the women is… dead. And the other is in a bad place right now. It doesn’t feel right to leave. There’s too much at stake.”
Mom whimpered before dissolving into more sobs, which undid whatever ounce of composure I had managed to pull together during our conversation. Body shaking as I cried, I buried my face in the hand that wasn’t holding my phone, trying not to sink to my knees on the asphalt.
The hand that grabbed my shoulder nearly made me scream, but it was just Emily. Her expression held a softness that I knew most people rarely saw. Passed her shoulder, I could see Tara waiting by the car, shuffling her feet awkwardly.
I drew a shaky breath. This sucked. I hated every second of it. But I could do it — I needed to do it. This wasn’t a problem I could run away from. My parents (and everyone else, for that matter) would be safer if Arman was stopped.
“I’m sorry,” I choked. “I love you. I’ll text more. I’m sorry.”
Then I hung up.
My first instinct was to scream and hurl my phone across the parking lot. It wasn’t fair — wasn’t fair that my parents had been targeted and traumatized, wasn’t fair that they had to wait and worry for me, wasn’t fair that I had gotten pulled into this mess and left to clean up all of its broken pieces.
But I needed the damn phone, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, and, ultimately, I knew I was lucky. My parents were alive.
So I settled for the hug Emily offered, burying my face in her shoulder and sobbing until I had nothing left.
Chapter Seven
“Okay,” Tara said, blinking her eyes clear as she came out of another scry. She was in the backseat again. We had finished checking over the car and were about ready to head back onto the highway. “I got a better look at Farida this time. She’s still in the woods, but she’s about to cross a covered bridge.”
I perked up at that. We had crossed a covered bridge during our long days of walking with no clear destination. “What did it look like?”
“I dunno. Like any other covered bridge?”
“Was there a sign on it?” asked Emily, who had reclaimed the driver’s seat again. I had argued that someone else should drive next, but she said I needed to rest more and she was still refusing to trust Tara with any amount of control over our situation. Well, beyond scrying. We were still parked, at least — Emily had (quite reasonably) said it would be stupid to start driving before we knew where we wanted to go.
“Yeah, but it was all worn away. I couldn’t quite tell what it said.”
I wracked my own memory, trying to recall what kind of signage had been on the bridge Farida and I had crossed. But I had been too consumed in exhaustion and grief. It had been a long walk along a hiking trail before we came to the bridge, and I remembered being terrified of crossing paths with hikers and people out to admire the colourful fall leaves.
“Is there something important about this bridge?”
Startled out of my thoughts, I turned to Emily, who was watching me curiously. I let me gaze fall to my lap, studying the dry skin on my hands. “I — I’m not sure. Farida and I crossed a covered bridge at one point. I’m wondering if it’s the same one.”
“Try looking up pictures of covered bridges in New Brunswick. Here — use my phone. I’ve got tons of data.”
Googling “New Brunswick covered bridges” generated a surprising number of results. I had known they were kind of an icon for the province, but I hadn’t realized just how many there actually were. I passed the phone to Tara, who scrolled through the results for several seconds before perking up. She tapped eagerly at the screen, then held it up for me to see. “This one! The Crooked Creek bridge.”
A strange mix of hope and panic fluttered in my chest when I realized I recognized the photo, too. It showed the familiar bridge swarmed with vibrant green and orange trees, looking like something out of a historical novel with its worn and warped boards. “It’s the same one I saw.”
Emily did a quick check on the maps app for directions and then we were pulling out of the parking lot to continue along the highway. We drove in silence for a while. I didn’t want to sleep yet, though I was definitely starting to breakdown under the weight of emotional and physical exhaustion. There was just too much to think about. And it wasn’t just my own problems I was mulling over any more.
I glanced at Emily. She looked lost in thought. I didn’t want to pry; Emily was… not exactly private, not exactly reserved. She wasn’t one to jump into the emotional meat of a situation, at least not when it came to her own feelings, but she would talk it out when she was ready. I had learned a long time ago not to rush that process. Even still, it was hard not to want to hug her and comfort her when I knew she couldn’t be as calm and unaffected as her demeanor let on.
I hated to see her hurting. I hated even more that there was little I could do to help.
Soft snores from the backseat told me Tara had conked out. I had to stifle a little laugh, but as I twisted to look back at her, I sobered and couldn’t help feeling sad instead. She had been through a lot, too. Watching Arman kill Patrick. Worrying about her mom all the time. And she had sought out me — well, sort of — hoping for protection, but I was probably only going to put her in even more danger. Guilt twisted my gut and squeezed my already-battered heart. I wondered if I should try to send her home, too, so she could be with her family instead of dealing with this whole mess.
But I needed her. She could find Farida. And if we did find Farida, Tara would definitely be safer with us from then on.
I hoped.
“We could ditch her, you know,” Emily murmured, tilting her head back to indicate our other travel companion. “Find another little rest stop or something and drop her off. She can figure it out past that.”
I shook my head. “We need her.”
Emily
scoffed. “I don’t get how you can trust her after everything.”
“Look, nothing about this situation is straightforward, okay?”
“You’re not straightforward,” she snapped, smirking. “Sorry — couldn’t resist.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re one to talk.”
“Yeah, I am. And I have a lot to say.” She ignored me when I groaned and sank lower into my seat, continuing, “Do you realize how little sense that Tara chick’s story makes?”
“What’s not to understand? She watched Arman kill someone and wondered if she could be next. It was the last straw in a situation she already hated.”
“Right. And she was only doing it to keep her mom safe.”
“Yeah. So? I know I’d do some pretty messed up stuff to protect my parents.” Just saying it made me nauseas, my thoughts incongruous as I remembered hearing Mom and Dad through the phone, safe and whole, but still pictured them bloody and scared in that farmhouse.
“I know. And you wouldn’t do anything that would put them in greater danger.”
“What are you getting at?”
Emily let out an exasperated sigh. “She left Arman, who was financing her mother’s medication. Does that make sense to you?”
“Well—” I fumbled for an argument.
“And why did she wait so long to find you? Five days, Amber. Five days. It couldn’t have taken that long to drive to and from the Island, and you know it wouldn’t take her long to figure out where Farida is, and you know it couldn’t have taken her that long to text you. So if she was so scared of Arman and so upset about having to kidnap your parents, why did she wait so long?”
“I don’t know!” I yelled.
Behind us, Tara grunted and shifted in her sleep.
I lowered my voice as I continued, “I don’t know, okay? Maybe she took so long because she went to check on her own mother and make new arrangements. Maybe she didn’t leave Arman right away because she was scared. Who knows? But she freed my parents, Emily. Why would she do that if she hadn’t turned against Arman? They were the perfect bargaining chip.”
“Seems like an unnecessary risk in an already very dangerous situation.”
The comment about risk brought Masika instantly to mind and I was seized by another wave of guilt and grief. Would it ever stop? Would there always be little, innocuous phrases like that that made me want to lie down and cry for days? More than anything, though, it made me seriously doubt myself. What would Masika think of what I was doing? She had said Farida was the future of the stones. Was it worth the risk to try and save that future, or was I somehow making things worse again?
How was I supposed to make that choice?
Even in death, Masika still found a way to make me feel like I didn’t belong, like I was an overcomplicated burden. A surge of resentment hit me when I remembered how much she had amplified my already-rampant self-doubt, which was quickly chased by unwelcome but familiar and crushing guilt.
Closing my eyes, I drew a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. Then, in a quiet voice, I said, “She can help us, Emily. Really, really help us. Without her, I’ll never find Farida.”
There was a long pause. I chanced a look at Emily. She was staring ahead at the road, hands tight against the steering wheel and expression contemplative even though she looked pissed enough to chew steel. Finally, she said, “She means a lot to you?”
It took me a second to make sense of the question. “Farida? Of course she does. We’ve been through a lot together.”
Bewilderingly, Emily’s lips tilted up into a smirk. “Right.”
“We have,” I said, confused and flustered by her sudden change in tone and expression. What was she up to? “And, honestly, she’s been through even more than I have. She needs someone to look after her for a change.”
“And that’s all?”
“Well — I — we’re friends. What else does there need to be?”
Emily shrugged. “Just never known you to be a risk-taker like this.” She glanced over at me, pierced eyebrow raised. “But I guess you’re the boss this time around.”
“Ugh. Don’t call me that.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I leaned over and flicked on the radio, which earned a laugh from her.
“Oh, come on — if you’re gonna drown me out with music, at least choose good—”
Something slammed against the rear of the car, sending us swerving. Emily swore as she fought to keep the car from going into the ditch and Tara woke up screaming. Emily managed to get us pulled over to the shoulder of the road and cut the engine. When she reached for her door, however, I stopped her.
“Let’s… Give it a second. To be safe.”
She nodded, rolling down her window instead.
A gleaming, dark green car pulled up beside us. I would have thought it was fresh off the lot if it weren’t for its nose being completely smashed in and the nasty crack that had begun splintering its way across the windshield. Evidently, that wasn’t enough to make it undriveable. A young woman emerged from the driver side. She had pin-straight auburn hair that hung down passed her mid-back, and she was wearing high-waisted white jeans with a blue-and-pink floral crop-top and (I saw as she stepped around the front of the car) sparkly blue flipflops. She looked like she was on her way to go bar-hopping.
The strange girl’s slightly nasal voice slurred as she shouted, “Finally!”
“Are you okay?” Emily called out through the open window.
The girl squinted toward us, eyes drifting past Emily’s face until they landed on me. Then she grinned. Gesturing to her car, she yelled, “Get in, losers!” She snorted, then broke into hysterical laughter, doubling over and clutching her stomach.
“Is she drunk?” Emily whispered.
Before Tara or I could answer, the girl had straightened, laughter abruptly finished. “Hey! Heeeey. Terra-Bear-a, are you in the car too? Sorry if I, like, broke your neck or something.”
I glanced at Tara in my periphery. She was pale beneath her dark complexion, eyes wide as she slowly shook her head back and forth. Despite the mispronounced name, it was obvious the girl was referring to her.
The girl sighed. “Well, whatever.” Then she pointed angrily toward her vehicle, expression shifting with frightening ferocity. “I said get in the fucking car!”
“Hit the gas!” Tara yelled.
We peeled out, leaving the girl behind in a cloud of dust and shrieked profanity. I didn’t doubt she would try to follow.
“I knew it!” Emily shouted as her car picked up speed, smacking one of her hands off the steering wheel. “You led her right to us, didn’t you?!”
“No!” Tara said, already near tears. “No, I didn’t! I swear. I — I don’t know how she found us, honestly, but—”
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Destiny. I really, really don’t know how she found us — it could have been magic, I don’t know much about what stone she carries. It could have just been a natural knack — Arman’s good at finding people who are… vulnerable. Or gullible. I don’t know. It’s how he found me.”
“How many of you are there?” Emily snapped. The growl of the engine grew louder as we picked up speed, seemingly throwing its support to Emily’s anger.
“I told you, I’m not with them anymore!”
Emily snorted. “She seemed to think otherwise.”
“She was also wasted! Destiny is always a mess. And if you must know — well, I dunno. I only ever worked with Patrick. We were two of the first that Arman recruited, at least in this generation. There was a kid before us — way before us — but I’ve barely seen him. Arman hardly lets the kid out of his sight. Then there’s Destiny and some other kids.”
“Kids?” I said.
Tara shrugged. “Teens, maybe early twenties. I’m not sure, but they’re all young.”
“Great,” Emily said sarcastically, “so you know nothing.”
“I’m sorry Arman didn’t have regula
r team meetings or spread around newsletters!”
“Guys!” I snapped. When they shut up, I asked Tara, “You must know something about her.”
“I mean, sort of? Like I said, she’s a mess. Wild. Unstable in every sense of the word. It can make her ruthless and hard to predict—”
“And possibly her own worst enemy,” I finished for her.
“Maybe.”
“Great. So she’s unpredictable. Do you have any other information that might help us right now?” Emily asked. I noticed her gaze kept darting to the rear-view mirror, so I checked my side mirror.
A dark green car with a smashed-up front had come into view behind us and was gaining speed. The speedometer showed Emily was pushing 40km/hr over the speed limit, but Destiny was driving even faster.
“Shit.”
“You have to try and lose her!” Tara said, eyes wide and panicked, apparently also realizing we were still being tailed.
“Now would be a great time to call out your dragon,” Emily said through gritted teeth.
“I barely know how to!”
“Well fucking do something!” Emily snapped.
I jumped a little, startled by the vehemence in her voice, but then that just made me angry. “I don’t know how, okay? I don’t know how to do anything!”
“Yeah, I can see that!” Emily’s face was growing redder by the second. “God, you’re so useless.”
Hearing my own self-deprecation thrown back at me made it hard to hold on to my anger. She was right. Hadn’t I been telling that to myself since this whole nightmare began?
But Emily wasn’t anywhere near finished with her rant. She pushed even heavier on the gas as she roared, “You’re useless! You’re an idiot! You’re putting our lives into this backstabbing asshole’s hands and now look! We’re being chased — shocking! God! I can’t believe I drove all the way to Buttfuck, New Brunswick to help your sorry ass! No wonder Farida left! I can’t imagine how anyone can stand to be around you! I should—”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. Because the more she raged at me, the more she torn into me, the more it became obvious that this couldn’t be Emily. She might get mad at me. She might call me out for being an idiot. She might deliver some hard, brutal truths. But not like this.
Those Who Fall Page 6
