Seeker

  Gideon is up. Sitting over the side of the bed with his back to me. His shirt is off and he’s pulling on the black harness of his prosthetic. He tucks it under his elbow, pinning it to his side as he tries to untangle the straps.

  Maia’s soft snoring filters through the cracked door of the bedroom.

  I watch in silence as Gideon tries to work the strap free. His back is impressively cut. Sculpted with muscle. Tapering to a narrow waist. I could lie here and appreciate it for an hour if sadness didn’t find me, bringing a dull ache to the back of my throat. He’s struggling with the straps.

  All the times I’ve seen him casually slip his prosthetic hand into his pocket, or cross his arms to hide it from me, pass before my eyes.

  He thinks I don’t notice. But I do.

  Under some power that’s beyond me, my hand moves to his forearm.

  He freezes. Sharply, like I startled him. Then he turns slightly to me, sliding the harness from beneath his arm as he looks over his shoulder. He’s hidden all evidence of this thing we haven’t talked about.

  “Did I wake you?” he asks, his voice pitched low.

  “No.”

  “I know I did.”

  He’s right. And this already isn’t going well. What I want is more honesty between us, not less. “You did wake me. But I’m glad.”

  “Daryn, I’m going to go.” He rises to his feet but I hold his arm. Stopping him. “Daryn…”

  “Do you hate me because of it?” I whisper the question, though Maia’s still snoring steadily in the bedroom. In the low light, all I see is the line of his jaw and sweep of his eyelashes.

  “That’s not even possible.”

  “Do you blame me, then?”

  “I think I tried to in the beginning. For like a minute.”

  “I’d never have let it happen if I’d known. I’d have done anything to keep you safe.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why…?”

  “Why am I weird about it around you?” His head eases to the side and the muscles in his neck roll as he swallows. “Good question.”

  We fall into silence, tension making this tiny space feel even smaller. I know he’s miserable. I can feel how much he wants to leave.

  “Don’t go, Gideon.”

  “I’m here.”

  “I want you more here.” I pull him back by the arm. He resists at first, but then he relents and lies beside me on the mattress.

  His prosthetic thumps to the floor.

  He stares up at the low ceiling, his chest rising and falling, his stomach rising and falling. As out of breath as I am. “Are you trying to ruin me?”

  “No.” I don’t know what the opposite of ruin is—the word won’t come to me—but that’s what I want for him. The opposite of ruin. “Just let me.”

  “Let you what?” he asks.

  But both he and I know the answer.

  I run my hand down his right arm, over the tattoo of the cross. Then over Bas’s name. Three letters but they’re cursive, surprisingly fluid and beautiful.

  Gideon balls his hand into a fist, the veins in his forearm standing out.

  He shuts his eyes and I know I have his permission.

  I look at his other arm. At how it ends at his wrist.

  There’s nothing odd about it. It’s instantly normal—but normal how he is to me. Which isn’t normal at all.

  He’s the furthest thing from that.

  He’s extraordinary. Strong. Beautiful.

  “Are we done?”

  “No.”

  His eyes part slightly and he looks at me through his lashes. “Does this—” He swallows. “Change anything? If you think it’s gross—”

  “It does, Gideon. It changes things.”

  His brow furrows, hurt digging in. But as I pull myself over him, planting my knees on either side of his hips, the hurt is replaced by surprise.

  I tug my hair over one shoulder and tell my heart to stay put, to not break out of my chest quite yet. Then I bend and kiss him on the lips, once, softly.

  As I draw away, the emotion in his blue eyes is the most vulnerable and human thing I’ve ever seen.

  I keep moving, or I’ll lose my nerve. I move down to his shoulder and kiss it, then his biceps, making a trail along warm skin and muscles that tense under my lips. All the way to the wrist that’s resting on his stomach.

  When I get there, I look up. He’s holding his breath. His eyes are closed again. It makes me want to cry to see how hard this is for him. How hard it’s been.

  I haven’t gone through what he has, but I understand what it’s like to miss part of yourself. I’ve struggled so much without the Sight. Without my family. I know what it’s like to be without something you depended on, and even took for granted. Incomplete in some critical way.

  “Gideon.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Yes,” I say. “Let me.” I plant a long kiss on the strong bone of his wrist, feeling his breath stutter. I don’t know if he can sense what I’m thinking, but I hope so. You are perfect to me. Believe it.

  Then I retrace my path, kissing my way back up, stopping when I reach his mouth.

  My plan is to spend some time here, but first things first. “I have a question.”

  “Ask.” He looks at me intensely, ardently. “Anything.”

  “These.” I tap my bottom lip. “In terms of power, how are they? Limitless?”

  He yanks me against his chest, clamping his arms around me. “God, Daryn…” He kisses the top of my head. “Yes.”

  * * *

  When Maia starts to stir, Gideon leaves. If his goal was to make a secret exit, it doesn’t work.

  Soraya and Sophia show up as he’s stepping out. I hear him talking to them outside.

  “We don’t know what to do,” Soraya says.

  “Or where to be,” Sophia says.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I think there’s going to be a lot of that today.”

  They talk for a little while, sharing medical updates on everyone. Then he leaves and they come inside, joining Maia and me.

  We talk at the kitchen table. Then we sit and don’t talk. We’re all emotionally and physically wrecked. And aimless.

  We move in a small pack the rest of the morning, pretending to eat breakfast. Wandering from the medical station to the RV and back as we wait for news of Ben, who was flown to a regional hospital.

  I don’t see Gideon again. He stays in his trailer with Jode and Marcus.

  I wonder where things stand between us. We’ve had so many starts and stops—but he’s right. That’s on me. I’ve been the one slamming on the brakes. I’ve been so stupid. So determined to protect myself. Why have I been protecting myself from him?

  Back at the RV, news arrives at eleven that Ben is stable. He lost a spleen, but spleens are optional. He’s going to have a long road ahead, but the doctors think he’ll make a full recovery.

  Soraya and Sophia fly into a hug and dissolve into tears of relief.

  Maia exhales a long breath through her teeth. “Okay. Good boy, Ben,” she says, like he’s right here. Then she looks at me. “I’m gonna go shoot. Wanna come?”

  “Yes.” I want to do anything that’s not sitting around and worrying.

  She commandeers a Jeep, and we spend an hour at the shooting range on the adjacent base. Maia gives me a lesson. Pointers on breathing, stance, technique. Much as I try, holding the weapon feels wrong, like I’m holding a chair instead of a rifle, whereas it looks like a natural extension of her body. Even with her leg stitched up beneath her cargos, she stands and shoots like a pro. It’s impressive to watch her.

  We head back when other people at the range start to notice how good she is.

  “So, you and War?” she says, pulling the Jeep onto the main road. “I saw that he spent the night. Plus all the eye hockey you two have been playing. Plus, we all knew something had gone on before.”

  “Yeah, we’re…” I don’t know what we are. I pass the water bo
ttle we’ve been sharing back to her. “We’re something.”

  Maia laughs. “Yep. That you are. Blake’s a top-quality guy. Hot as Hades, too.” I look at her. “Whoops. Is it okay I said that?”

  “Of course. I’m just surprised that I feel good right now. I mean, I’m sad about what happened … but I’m also good.” Part of it is Maia, I know. Being with her. Doing something random with her that I’d never otherwise do. Being out. Driving around. Sharing water. Just … accepting the missing pieces and keeping going.

  “I hear you,” she says. “Life’s frickin’ weird, ain’t it?”

  “So weird.”

  Back at camp, we’re told to gather in the command center. Maia and I plop down next to each other. The seats around the table start to fill, but it’s the absences I notice.

  No Ben. No Suarez.

  No Low.

  Without them, it feels like we’re half the number we were two days ago, even though that’s not true.

  Marcus walks in and looks at me. Jode follows behind him. Then Gideon, who I can’t look at directly. Not even after I internally yell at myself for being a chicken. Not even when he sits right beside me and says, “Hey.”

  I mumble it back.

  He must realize I’ve become mute, because he starts talking to Maia. “Heard you went shooting. How’d you do?”

  Maia replies and then he replies and they talk like grown people, as I try to follow along while my brain feeds me an image of the way he looked smiling at me from the other side of the pillow.

  “Daryn shot, too? How was it?” he asks, still carrying on like three of us are participating in this conversation.

  Maia picks me up. She carries both of us, like she’s my spokesperson. I sit like a lump of human, running my thumb over an imaginary scratch on the table. Because eye contact? Words? Not happening right now.

  I feel too close to him. I’ve lost my protective shell, my ability to modulate, to hide or deflect or play it cool. I haven’t felt this before. I’m afraid I won’t properly shift gears back to civil and businesslike. I’m afraid I’ll get up and crawl into his lap and look at him with hearts twirling around in my eyes instead of answering, Yes, I shot a rifle for the first time and I didn’t like it much.

  I’m rescued from my newfound awkwardness when Natalie Cordero enters. The quiet hum of conversation cuts off as she rounds the table and sits in her usual seat.

  She’s a mess. Her complexion’s not far from the gray sweat suit she’s wearing. Her head is bandaged and there are small cuts along her cheek.

  Her eyes are sunken.

  She looks like she’s spent the entire night crying her eyes out, like the rest of us.

  But Cordero has never been like the rest of us.

  She folds her hands, and keeps her gaze on them as she speaks. “I’ll get right to the point.” Even her voice sounds broken. It’s raw and almost inaudible. “I take full responsibility for what happened. Travis Low’s death is on my conscience, so don’t let it be on any of yours. The injuries to Jared, Ben, and Maia as well. It’s all on my shoulders. That is likely no comfort to those of you who are suffering, but I apologize. Sincerely and deeply.”

  She sighs, letting that sink in.

  Beside me Gideon sits forward, propping his elbows on the table.

  “I’ve made a decision,” she continues, “to discontinue this operation, effective immediately. Nothing more is required of you—” Her breath catches. “Consider yourselves relieved of your duties. Tomorrow, a crew will come to break down camp. Helos will be here in the morning to transport you. That said, if any of you wish to leave now, there are enough SUVs to accommodate everyone if you share rides, and the RVs are an option, too. Talk to Soraya to coordinate.

  “As far as the future of this team goes, that decision remains to be made. Reports will need to be written and reviewed. An investigation will be conducted. Perhaps several. That will all take time. But I will notify you as soon as we have a directive.” She pauses. “Does anyone have any questions?”

  Jode speaks first. “You’re dismantling everything? The search? What about Sebastian?”

  It’s the question on all of our minds.

  Cordero turns a weary gaze on him. “The search is suspended until further notice.”

  “But there won’t be further notice. Will there be?” Jode presses. “This isn’t a suspension. It’s a cancellation.”

  Cordero doesn’t reply.

  Anger rises inside me. Volcanic. Somehow I keep from exploding.

  How can she abandon Sebastian?

  “Cordero, you saw what was in there,” Gideon says.

  “Yes, Gideon. I did,” Cordero returns. “That’s precisely why this is over. The risks are too high.”

  “You’re going to leave Bas?” he says. “You’re going to leave him to those things?”

  The expression on Cordero’s face tells me what she won’t say: She thinks Sebastian is dead.

  “It’s the only choice now. I won’t expose any of you to that again. And I won’t run the risk of those things crossing over to this side.”

  Gideon shoves his chair back and walks out. Marcus is a half step behind him, Jode right after. And suddenly I’m the only one still here.

  Me. The one who never wanted any of this in the first place. Not the involvement of all these people, or this military-style circus in the middle of the desert.

  The weight of a dozen stares presses on me. “You can’t give up.”

  “Oh, I can give up,” Cordero says. “If it means saving lives.”

  I shake my head. If there’s one thing that can’t happen, it’s this. We can’t leave Bas in the Rift. I desperately want and need to find my lost friend. I’ll never be able to move on until I do.

  “Are you going to tell me that I should’ve listened to you?” Cordero says. “Go ahead if it’ll make you feel better.”

  It won’t. Only one thing will.

  I get up and leave.

  I go right to the guys’ RV, opening the door and letting myself in.

  I find them standing in the kitchen, talking. All of them at once and in urgent tones. They strike me as imposing, the three of them. Like it’s a child’s table they’re arguing around.

  They fall silent when they see me.

  “We were just discussing asking you about going into the Rift,” Jode says. He glances at Gideon, whose full attention is on me. “You’re aware of the danger.”

  “I am, and you don’t have to ask me. I’m asking you.”

  “We’re in, of course,” Jode says immediately. “When?”

  “Tonight,” I say. “Just the four of us.”

  CHAPTER 18

  GIDEON

  We start planning to go back into the Rift right away.

  With the security measures in place around camp, we won’t get away from here undetected without some help.

  “Maia,” Daryn suggests.

  We all agree. Perfect.

  Daryn grabs the radio on the kitchen counter and calls her.

  Five minutes later, Maia steps into the RV and takes a slow look around. Marcus is sprawled on the couch. The rest of us are sitting at the kitchen table. Everyone is serious and quiet, like we’re processing Low’s death, but she knows better. “What’s up, guys?”

  “If we wanted to take the horses out tonight,” Daryn says, “would that be a problem?”

  “Around what time?”

  “Two?”

  Maia bites her lower lip, her focus turning inward. “Let me talk to Soraya and Sophia. I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” She stops at the door. “If any of you get hurt on this ‘ride’ of yours, I’ll kick your asses. So don’t, okay?”

  As soon as she leaves, we work on our strategy for inside the Rift.

  We can’t identify what drew the Harrows to us, but we agree that while we were traveling quietly, we went undetected. That’s the course we’ll keep: riding as a group, in silence, and maintaining a forward direction.

/>   As far as finding Bas, we decide to let Daryn lead with Shadow. Bas’s horse is as sensitive to him as the rest of our horses are to each of us. Maybe he’ll pick up Bas’s scent and take us to him.

  It’s a thin plan. Definitely could be stronger. But it’s something.

  “What about the Mustang and the cabin?” Jode asks. “The white flowers?”

  Daryn shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about them. It’s like they’re emotional triggers.”

  “To what end? Driving us out of the Rift?”

  “I don’t know.” She looks at me. My emotions trigger. Lots of new developments to think about. Later, though. “I’ve been thinking about how Samrael could get into your minds,” she continues. “And how, when he made me open the portal in the fall, I felt part of him seeping into it. It felt like he contaminated it.”

  Contaminated. Perfect word. That’s exactly how I felt when he got in my head.

  “You think that ability of his bled into the place?” I ask.

  “It was just an idea,” Daryn says. “But it doesn’t explain the flowers or the cabin. He couldn’t see into my head—just yours.”

  Silence falls over us. Jode scratches his chin. “If they’re psychological attacks, we can’t let them work.”

  “Agreed.” It’s a chorus. A pact. But I’m not sure how we’ll keep it—the actual mechanics of how we won’t “let them work.”

  Jode looks at me. “We haven’t talked about Samrael yet, or what he said to Daryn.”

  “What is there to discuss, Jode?”

  “He needs to die,” Marcus says. “Done. What’s next?”

  “You don’t believe what he told Daryn? That he knows where Sebastian is?”

  Marcus shakes his head.

  “Gideon?”

  “As a rule, I don’t believe anything a demon says.”

  “Daryn, you’re the one he spoke to. What do you think?”

  “I…” She sighs. “I’m getting tired of saying, ‘I don’t know.’ Taking into consideration everything I know at this time, I’m undecided.”

  “Undecided. So you might believe him?” I shouldn’t be this pissed about something that’s not even known yet.

  Color rises in her cheeks, but her eyes don’t waver. “Yes, Gideon. That’s what I said.”