If Shinobu could take the Middle Dread’s place, if he could gather to himself whatever tools the Middle had found, whatever schemes the Middle had begun, if he could understand them and use them for his own purposes—for Quin’s purposes—he could protect both of them. He could make up for the bad things that had been done in the name of Seekers; he could change their future. He and Quin would never be victims again.
But until he had control, how many more times would he have to see Quin attacked? And what if, one time, he wasn’t able to save her?
The medallion had begun to vibrate in his pocket, but he’d already taken his hand away and only perceived a tickle against his leg. He was looking at Quin.
The thought came again: She’s safer here.
Was this a true thought? Was it his own thought, from his own mind? Or was it a trick? What if there was no way to tell? Shinobu turned toward Quin.
“Quin, Quin!” he said, taking hold of her shoulders, as the medallion shook inside the cloak.
Her eyes drifted slowly to meet his as the next few words fell from her lips: “safely…back…”
“Take the focal off me,” he said urgently. “Pull it off!”
He took her hands and put them on the sides of the helmet.
“Take it off!” he said again.
He couldn’t do it himself. He couldn’t remove it with his own two hands. The idea was too painful.
Quin had heard him, but she was shaking her head slowly.
“Not here…” she whispered. “As soon as…we…get back…”
“Now! It has to be now!”
Her hands fell from the helmet to hang limply at her sides.
He put his own hands to the focal.
Take it off! he ordered himself. Just pull it off!
He couldn’t do it. His heartbeat sped up in a panic.
Is she safer here? I want her to be safe.
It seemed they’d walked for years. Quin was still chanting, but time was floating, its fingers cool on her body, her head, a dark lake taking her in.
She’d seen shapes loom up out of the blackness. And then she’d heard Shinobu’s plea to remove the focal from his head. But how could she? If she did, they would both be lost here forever.
They weren’t walking now. One of his hands was on her arm, solid and warm. He was real. But time itself had shifted, and she lost the chant.
How long have I been standing here looking?
“Knowledge of self,” she began again, forcing the words out, though her throat felt endlessly distant, “knowledge of home, a clear picture…”
The last word came on a long exhale, and then she did not breathe in again. It didn’t seem necessary.
“I want you to be safe,” she heard Shinobu say.
His words came so quickly—she herself must have been slowing down almost to the point of stopping. She moved both hands to Shinobu’s cloak and clutched him, attempting to pull herself back into the now.
“I’m losing time…” she murmured, forcing out the words as though her lungs were filled with sap. “Help me say the chant.”
He put a hand on her face. In the glow of the lantern his eyes were bright and focused. Just looking at him brought her back to herself a bit.
“You don’t need the chant, Quin,” he whispered. Fingers of electricity crawled about his forehead beneath the lip of the focal.
She was breathing again, but it seemed a year passed as her breath went in and out one time. She felt Shinobu’s face against hers, his arms around her, and she could hear the buzzing of the focal on his head as it pressed up against her own.
“I’m losing myself,” she whispered in a final effort to stay aware. “Take me out. Carve an anomaly.”
Shinobu held Quin in his arms, feeling the warmth of her body against his. The stone disk in his cloak had fallen still.
“I love you, Quin,” he whispered. It was something he was absolutely sure was true.
“Wha…?” Quin said, but the word faded out before it was completely formed, became a perpetual What? that she was sending into the blackness of this place. She was slowing down in earnest. He could feel her chest letting out air so faintly, hardly moving at all.
Her fingers shifted, ever so slightly, against his chest, as though she were trying to grab on to him, to wake herself up. But she was already falling into a single moment that would last, to her, an eternity.
“I love you,” he said again, knowing there was no need to tell her, knowing she could no longer hear him, and yet unable to go without saying it.
“I’m going to make it safe for you. Then I’ll be back.” The words nearly choked him.
How can you leave her here in the darkness? he asked himself.
I’m protecting her, he answered.
Don’t leave her! his mind cried out. How can you leave her? She’s all that matters. This doesn’t make sense.
I’m not leaving her. I’m keeping her safe.
He forced himself to release her. Stepping back, he looked at Quin in the warm light of the lantern. Her dark hair hung around her lovely face, her dark eyes looked out at him without seeing.
“I’ll come back for you, Quin,” he whispered. “As soon as I can.”
He meant it, didn’t he? Didn’t he? He couldn’t imagine life without her.
He turned away from her and surveyed the piles of Seeker weapons all around him and the many pairs of Watchers lined up so neatly in a huge circle, barely visible at the edge of the lantern’s light but there nevertheless, real and solid and ready to wake up.
All of this had been the Middle Dread’s once.
Not anymore.
Who will survive?
FIND OUT IN THE EPIC CONCLUSION TO THE SEEKER SERIES….
DISRUPTOR
SPRING 2017
Krista Marino! Thank you for your love of this world and for throwing your heart into it alongside mine. I couldn’t ask for a better editor.
Jodi Reamer! Thank you for being the most honest reader I’ve ever met, as well as the best agent in the universe (I checked). You call it gut instinct, I call it gut genius. Potato, potato. (Apparently this potato reference is a lot less effective in writing.)
Barbara Marcus, you inspire me. If I ever grow up, I’d like to be you, though I realize that may create some confusion. We can sort out the details later.
Beverly Horowitz, lioness, editor extraordinaire. Thank you for your encouragement and support for Seeker and Traveler.
Judith Haut, thank you for steering this series!
Also thanks to Alison Impey for the stunning cover, and to Stephanie Moss for the lovely interior design.
Thanks to Kathy Dunn and Dominique Cimina for shepherding Seeker and Traveler (and me) out into the land of readers.
Thank you, Felicia Frazier, for your huge vision and heart and rallying spirit.
Thank you to John Adamo, Kim Lauber, Stephanie O’Cain, and Rachel Feld for bringing Seeker and Traveler to the world cleverly and with so much care.
Tamar Schwartz, thank you for managing everything so ably, and thank you, Monica Jean, for all the big and small things you do every day.
Thank you to my copy editors, Bara MacNeill and Colleen Fellingham, for all the careful thought and for making everything clear.
Thanks to Sam Im for bringing this futuristic book series into the future.
Thanks to Sky Morfopoulos for being a great beta reader and an even better friend.
Thank you to my children, for occasionally visiting me from Mudgistan, Emerica, and Finn-Land.
And of course, thank you to Mrb. You know who you are.
Arwen Elys Dayton is the author of Seeker and Traveler, the first two books in the Seeker series, and the e-novella The Young Dread. She spends months doing research for her stories. Her explorations have taken her around the world to places like Egypt, Hong Kong, Scotland, and Iceland.
Arwen lives with her husband and their three children on the West Coast of the United States.
You can visit her and learn more about the Seeker series at arwendayton.com and follow @arwenelysdatyon on Twitter and Instagram.
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Arwen Elys Dayton, Traveler
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