Juneau gives me a wistful smile and grabs my hand. “Let’s go then,” she says.
We step outside onto the porch and a second later Whit and the doctor crowd out behind us. Everyone is frozen in place, watching the guards who had gone out to patrol the woods and are now heading back toward the house at full speed.
Behind them, Juneau’s people are coming, chasing Avery’s army out of the forest. The battle has begun.
51
JUNEAU
MY PEOPLE BEGIN THE BATTLE BY FIGHTING CLEAN—SHOOTING TO debilitate. Aiming for limbs. And they are fast enough to avoid the shots of the guards, using trees, bushes, anything they can to shield themselves while they wait for the best possible shot. They have been preparing for a fight against armed brigands for decades. They know what they’re doing.
I can tell by their formation—their spread across the yard—what they’re trying to do: clear an escape route for my dad and Holly to get Badger out. After that, they too will leave.
If they can, I think, and my heart lurches as, in the glare of the yard’s spotlights, I see bullets fly and one of my people fall. It is Sterling. She presses her hand to her leg and crawls behind one of the boulders used in the ranch’s landscaping. I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s not dead. Yet.
But that one shot changes everything. The time has come—it is a true fight, as Tallie warned. Her words to me weren’t just an empty warning. They were a call to action. She was given a message for me, from her own version of the Yara. Or maybe, since all things are indeed connected, from the Yara itself. “Don’t Read, don’t Conjure,” she said. “Invoke.”
As the battle rages before me, I feel like time has stopped. I force my mind to clear and immerse myself in the question Tallie’s prophecy posed for me. Invoke what?
What do you believe in? asks a voice inside. I think of my experience in the last eight weeks. The crumbling of my entire belief system, and my rebuilding of it, stone by solid stone. “Doubt everything,” Tallie had told me. “What you decide to keep, you’ll be able to be sure of. And what you decide to ditch, you’ll replace with what your instincts tell you is true.”
My instincts told me that I had a direct link to the Yara—one that is stronger than I ever imagined. That doesn’t necessitate the use of totems . . . props. The Yara—the force that flows through all things—flows directly in and out of me.
My father urged me to consider what I believed. To make my own choice about the nature of Gaia and the Yara. And I realize that I already have.
I know—from the depths of my being—that Gaia is made up of more than atoms. Gaia is more than mere science. Gaia—the superorganism—is a living, sentient being that uses its children—those who are one with the Yara—to protect her. Gaia empowers us for a reason and rewards us by preserving us—keeping us safe from disease. From typical human aging.
Whit thought that Amrit would work on anyone—even those who are not Gaia’s children. But I watch Avery drop to one knee and begin shooting at the marble stags atop his fountain, and know that Whit was wrong. Gaia knows who will serve her and who won’t.
I look up to where the moon glows through the storm clouds and discover that a truth has been born in my mind. Is on the tip of my tongue. Our relationship with Gaia is symbiotic. She uses us to protect her, and in turn she protects us. It is the power of Gaia that I am meant to invoke.
And with that realization, I throw my head back and stretch my arms wide, like I do when I Read the wind. And with everything I am, I call the mother. The source. The vessel for everything that exists. I call her to come to the aid of her people. To protect herself and her own. And, when I open my eyes, she has responded.
The rain intensifies, and torrential winds make it difficult for the fighters to stand their ground. It looks like a monsoon has descended on this patch of the New Mexico desert.
My people know how to deal with the elements. We’ve lived our lives outdoors. I watch as they use rocks and trees as hunting blinds and the weather as camouflage as they move from position to position. Meanwhile, Avery’s army falls apart, scrambling for shelter while shooting haphazardly in all directions.
And then—barely visible through the streaking rain—dark shapes begin to emerge from the forest, slowly separating from the trees. Animals! Gaia has sent the animals. And they are heading directly toward us.
The rain is whipping down, animals are chasing guards out of the woods, and all hell is breaking loose. I make out the forms of large cats, wolves, and even a bear. But the only action that can be clearly seen is within the circular areas lit up by the floodlights stationed around the lawn.
Avery and four guards crouch behind the fountain, guns raised, trying to get a bead on the animals without shooting their own men.
A shot rings out from Avery and his group, and I see a tiger drop to the ground, snarling and injured. “They’re killing the animals!” I yell.
Miles has been standing beside me this whole time, but I was so concentrated on my task that I forgot he was there until he takes a step in front of me. He seems to be calculating something as he peers out at the scene, and then I see him narrow his eyes. Suddenly, one of the floodlights explodes, plunging the area around it into pitch dark. My mouth drops open. “Miles!” I exclaim. “Did you do that? Did you Conjure?”
Miles turns his head and gives me this look . . . one I’ve never seen. It must be what my dad was referring to when he said Miles had the makings of a leader. This is strong Miles. Proud Miles. Miles who is in his element. And I am overwhelmed by a fierce pride. He is with me, this self-assured man who cares for me. Maybe even loves me, I think. Because I’m beginning to realize that’s what I feel for him.
He sees my emotion and, taking my hand, pulls me next to him. “It’s a conversation for another time,” he says and points to one side of the yard. “You take those, and I’ll get the rest.” In under a minute, we have disabled all of the floodlights and submerged the scene into darkness.
“I hope your people can see in the dark,” Miles says.
“Oh, trust me . . . they can,” I respond, as a familiar whistle comes from behind us. Through the open door I see my dad running down the stairs with Holly, who is carrying a wide-eyed Badger. The white-uniformed housekeeper is with them, leading them down the stairs and then right into the trophy room.
“You go with them,” Miles says, and rockets out into the dark, keeping against the front of the house, well out of the line of fire.
“Be safe!” I call.
“Always!” I hear him yell.
I leave the porch and run in after my father, following them through the animal-head room, into the hallway, and through a door into the parking garage. “We’ll take the Hummer,” the housekeeper yells. “They leave the keys in the ignition.” She weaves her way past the other cars toward a monstrous vehicle. She opens the back door for Holly, who climbs in and begins attaching a seat belt around Badger. The housekeeper jumps into the passenger seat, and my father climbs in behind the wheel.
From outside, yells and screams, both human and animal, split the night air. My father turns to me. “Juneau. Come with us.”
I shake my head. “I’m staying here. The fight is just beginning. But you have to follow the plan: Evacuate Badger and his mother.”
My father steps down to put his arms around me. He hugs me firmly and says in my ear, “I just want you to be safe.”
I lean back and look him in the eyes. “I’ll be safe. I promise.”
He gets back into the car, strapping himself in and starting the motor. Rolling the window down, he asks, “You’ll come meet us in Roswell?”
I nod automatically and then, looking down, shake my head. “No, Dad. I won’t be coming.”
He nods sadly. “Don’t forget that I love you, Junebug,” he says.
“I won’t forget. Love you, too, Dad.”
Putting the car into reverse, he backs up slowly into the gravel drive. In the backseat, Holly pushes Bad
ger’s little head down, and leans over out of sight. The housemaid points the way out to my dad, he flicks the lights on, and with a roar tears around the circle, scattering Avery and his guards as he shoots by them and up the driveway. Their escape is so sudden that no one reacts for a few seconds, and by the time shots are fired in their direction, they are too far away to be hit. Wheels screech as the Hummer knocks down the security gate, and continues on, taking a turn onto the main road and disappearing behind the trees.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see three shapes slip into the far end of the garage, and I dive for cover behind one of the remaining cars. I pull the scalpel from my back pocket and push up the blade. I’ve never stabbed anyone before, but after what I’ve seen tonight, I’m ready to take out a whole army with just this one tiny blade. My heart beats like mad as I wait for a sound.
A voice pipes up, echoing hollowly through the vast room. “It’s us, silly!”
I rise and peer out over the top of the car, to see Nome walking toward me with Kenai beside her and Miles on her other side.
“We come in peace, oh wielder of deadly medical tool,” jokes Kenai, and lances something large toward me. I drop the scalpel and catch the crossbow in the same hand. “And here’s your knife,” Nome says, holding up my bowie in its sheath.
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Shaking my head in disbelief at seeing my three favorite people together, I gesture with my head toward the chaos outside. “Ready to fight some brigands?”
52
MILES
WE MOVE OUT OF THE GARAGE TOWARD THE BATTLE, and I can’t distinguish between the clan members and the army guys, with the animals just blurs of movement in their midst. In the dark and the driving rain, the mixture of fur, camouflage, and mud make it hard to see anything at all.
“Do we shoot to kill?” yells Kenai.
“No,” calls Juneau, strapping the belt Nome hands her around her waist, and holstering her bowie knife. “Shoot to maim.”
“But, Juneau, these are the guys who killed our dogs. Kidnapped us. Kept us imprisoned,” shouts Kenai above the noise.
“Shoot to maim!” Juneau repeats.
“They’re probably wearing Kevlar,” I shout at her.
All three turn to look at me with blank expressions. I guess Kevlar’s not in the EB. “Bulletproof vests,” I say. “It’ll be covering their chests and backs.”
“Okay,” yells Juneau. “Then aim for the arms and legs, Kenai. Nome, slingshot to the faces.” And they’re off, Juneau with her crossbow, Kenai with a powerful-looking mini-bow and arrows, and Nome with a slingshot and some sharp-looking rocks.
Seeing Juneau and her friends fight is like watching some crazy ninja film where everything is choreographed. It’s like they’re one person—every move is synchronized with the others.
I lag behind, not daring to fire. I’m scared I’m going to hurt someone on our side. I don’t know how Juneau and her friends are doing it, but out of the darkness I hear yells and screams of pain as they pick off one guard after another.
Not far away from me, a one-on-one battle rages between one of Avery’s guards and a big guy who was introduced to me back at the camp as Cordova. The guard must have run out of ammunition because he’s using the gun like a club, warding off the knife-wielding hunter. Meanwhile, a cougar-looking cat paces back and forth behind the guard, as if waiting for its turn to fight.
And then it dawns on me. The animals are actually fighting with the clan.
But that doesn’t make any sense. Juneau told me about one of her clanspeople being killed by a bear—they kept one gun in case of animal attack. The clan can Read animals. But the only influence over them I’ve heard her speak about is her and Whit’s recently discovered ability to direct Poe to one place or another.
Something has changed. It seems like nature is on our side today. And a strange thought comes to mind. Maybe nature has come to the rescue. Not nature, but Nature with a capitol N. As in Gaia. The torrential rain and wind, just as the clan’s attack began. The animals joining in the fight. Maybe Gaia not only exists, but this superorganism thing that Juneau keeps talking about might just have a will. And a means to execute it.
Both guys fall back for a second. I take that chance to lift my crossbow and aim low at the guard, shooting to maim, like Juneau said. It’s hard to see clearly, but I focus and exhale and shoot.
For a split second nothing happens, and then the guard drops his gun and falls to the ground, holding his leg in his hands. The cougar pounces, landing in a sprawl on the guard’s back, and goes directly for his neck. It whips its head back and forth with a force that reminds me of my mom’s cat with its prey, trying to break its neck. The poor chipmunk never had a chance. And neither does the guard.
Cordova leans forward, hands on his knees, trying to stay upright. Looking at me, he nods his thanks, and then collapses to the ground. I throw my crossbow over my back and run for him. “Are you hurt?” I ask, as I sling his arm across my shoulders and help him back to his feet.
“Bullet,” he groans, and lifts a hand he’s pressing to his side to show oozing blood washing away in the rain.
“Let’s get inside,” I say, and half carry him to the garage, where the doctor’s dark sedan is just starting to back up. I sit Cordova down where the Hummer used to be and walk over to the car. The windows are completely steamed up and the doctor’s sticking his head out the driver’s side in order to see.
I bend down and knock on the half-open passenger window. “I’ve got a patient for you,” I say.
“Go to hell,” the doctor yells.
I raise my crossbow and stick it through the window. “I said, I’ve got a patient for you,” I state. The doctor turns and sees me and sticks his hands in the air. “Turn the car off,” I order, “and hand me the keys.” The doctor quickly obeys my command. “Now get out of the car and come take care of this gunshot wound. I’ll give you your keys back as soon as our man is stable.”
Juneau runs in out of the rain. “I saw you come in with Cordova. Is he okay?” she asks breathlessly.
“I’m fine,” Cordova says, lying flat on the ground. “It’ll take more than a bullet in the side to send me back to Gaia.”
The doctor pops his trunk, gets a first aid kit out of the back, and begins to work on the wounded man.
From where it’s parked at the side of the garage, the ATV starts up with a roar. Without turning its lights on, it backs up and parks right next to us. One of my father’s security men is behind the wheel, the other in the passenger seat, and in the back are my dad and Whit. Juneau’s old mentor opens the door and steps down into the shelter of the garage.
He waves his arm toward the backseat and says, “Get in, Juneau.”
“You’re more delusional than I imagined if you think I’d ever come with you,” she replies, and reaches backward for her crossbow. But before she can grasp it, Dad’s guard swings a gun out the window. “The man told you to get in,” he grunts, and aims the barrel at Juneau’s head.
“Hey!” I yell, and make a lunge toward Juneau, but she holds a hand out to stop me.
“Drop your weapon,” the man insists.
Juneau unstraps her crossbow and lays it on the ground at her feet. Her eyes never leaving the guard’s, she carefully stands and folds her arms over her chest.
“Go ahead,” she says. “Shoot me.”
53
JUNEAU
“NO NEED FOR HISTRIONICS,” WHIT SAYS, QUICKLY stepping between the gun and me. “Just let me talk to her for a second.”
“Fine,” Mr. Blackwell says sarcastically. “It’s a bloodbath out there, but really, Mr. Graves, take your time.”
Whit ignores him and, taking my hand, says, “Juneau, we have to talk.”
I try to pull it back, but he’s got a viselike grip on me. He shoots Miles an annoyed look, and then peers outside where the torrential rain has abruptly stopped, and the noises of warfare are suddenly audible. “Juneau.
Come outside and talk to me just for a second. At least say good-bye.” And he gives me a sad smile that reminds me of all of the gifts he’s ever given me, of the care he took in teaching me, of the last twelve years he’s spent preparing me for my role.
“Okay, I’ll talk. But, Miles, keep your crossbow trained on Whit, and shoot at my signal.”
“Thank you for that vote of confidence, my dear,” Whit says, looking ruffled. He lets go of my arm, and I follow him outside to stand a few yards to the side of the garage, away from the fighting. Miles trails behind us, leans against the garage’s outer wall, and aims his crossbow at Whit’s back.
Whit stands close to me and speaks earnestly. “Juneau, we need you,” he pleads.
“You need my blood,” I respond.
“Yes, we do. But it’s not only I who will profit from it—the whole clan will be rewarded lavishly, as I’ve tried so hard to explain to you.”
“Whit, once the clan is safely out of here, my duty toward them has ended.”
“How can you say that?” Whit says, truly surprised. “The clan is your family. Your world.”
“My world is deceitful. My world decided for me how I was supposed to think. And I’ve pretty much had it with being manipulated. Once we’re safely out of here, I’m gone.”
Whit covers his eyes and exhales deeply. Then he drops his hands and shakes his head. “When it was decided that your mother would be my successor, I knew she would be as powerful a Sage as I had become. We were equals in so many ways.
“But right from the very start, you outshone her. Your gifts were as powerful at five years old as hers were at forty-five. And although her death was tragic, she left you behind to follow what she started. To one day lead the clan.
“Your mother was so proud of you, Juneau. And she would be even prouder if she knew what you were capable of today. You don’t understand how important you are. You have the ability to change humanity.”