Seeker

by Veronica Rossi

  They leave with him to get her.

  As I move through the kitchen, I see an open pack of Twizzlers on the counter. Daryn’s sweet tooth obviously hasn’t changed.

  I head into the first bedroom. It’s small. A twin bed and a dresser made of thick cabin pine. A nightstand and trunk—also pine.

  Daryn’s room. It smells like her. A mixture of fabric softener, flowers, and that smell of fall nights when the weather’s just starting to cool—the smell of good things coming.

  An ache moves down my throat, like the scents I’m breathing and can’t get enough of are poisonous.

  Shit, this is intense.

  The mirror over the dresser has papers taped and tacked around the edges of the frame. Some are paintings made on colored paper, clearly done by little kids. Mostly versions of the same thing. Kids holding Daryn’s hand as they ride horses. Unicorns riding through fluffy clouds. Pretty cute, actually. One in particular. Stealing goes against my moral code, but I’m tempted to swipe the one of Daryn riding a winged horse over a rainbow. Pure awesome.

  There are also lined notebook pages covered in handwriting I recognize as Daryn’s. I read the first one that catches my eye. The title at the top reads, “Blue.”

  mind and heart at war

  for war

  sky blue above me

  inside me

  my mind is mine

  my wild heart is not

  blue is what you are

  darken

  surround me

  A shudder rolls through me. I step back, shaking out my shoulders. Step in and read it again.

  This is about me, right? It’s definitely about me.

  But what does it mean?

  “G, there’s some—” Marcus freezes at the door when he sees me.

  I back away from the dresser again, busted for I don’t know what. Feeling a shitload of confusing feelings. “What’s up?”

  “Jode just called. He’s on his way with Daryn’s friend, Isabel. He said she thinks your hunch was right and Daryn went after Bas. One other thing. There’s a stable out back. I went out there to check for Shadow but…”

  “No Shadow.”

  Marcus shakes his head. “Daryn must’ve taken her. We found some tracks leading away from the stable heading east.”

  Bad news on top of bad news but my mind’s only on what’s next. “I’ll take Riot and go follow them.” I head for the door.

  Marcus doesn’t step aside. “You can’t.”

  “There’s no one around for miles.”

  He just looks at me, still not moving out of the way. I haven’t ridden Riot outdoors since the fall. Cordero’s too paranoid. A burning horse is hard to miss. Especially at night. “Cordero’s sending a drone up to take a look. Nothing for you to do.” His eyes narrow. “Take a walk or something, man.”

  He’s right—I need to chill—but I don’t love being called out on it. “You know what, Marcus? I think I’ll take a walk.”

  He finally clears the doorway. “Do that.”

  I head outside, passing Ben, Soraya, and Sophia, well entrenched behind half a dozen laptops at the tiny kitchen table, through the living room where Cordero, Low, and Suarez are staring at a screen that shows the drone’s feed. As I stride past them, I’m conscious of the moment of silence I generate in my wake.

  In the short time I’ve been inside, Cordero’s had the team set up floodlights around the cabin. They illuminate a hundred yards of slanting rain and muddy fields but come nowhere close to reaching the edges of the property.

  I hop down the porch and walk toward the river, my mind jumping from one thought to the next. From confusing poems to frustrating actions.

  Knowing that Daryn went after Bas alone is maddening. If she gets hurt or somehow fails it wouldn’t just be Sebastian we’d lose. It would be her. It would be any chance of ever finding either of them. Worst possible outcome.

  I’m almost at the stable when movement to my right makes me jump a foot in the air. Luckily, I stop myself short of summoning my sword and swinging.

  Maia, our sniper, is lying on bales of hay covered by a plastic tarp.

  “Hey, Blake! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” She lifts the tarp so I can see her. “Chill-out walk?”

  “I’ve been told I need it.”

  Maia tilts her head like she’s listening for something. She has a half-eaten granola bar in one hand, the other curled around an M24. Maia in a nutshell, right there. “Yeah,” she says, “you do.”

  I shrug. “Yep.” I’m not apologizing every time I get worked up. It would never end. Not that it happens all that much anymore. I’ve been pretty chill for a long time. Until very, very recently. After Marcus’s graduation from Ranger School about a week ago, I couldn’t shake off how close Daryn had been and how I didn’t see her. I guess I got angry. I guess it affected Maia. She ended up breaking up with her girlfriend in a superheated phone call, which we all heard. In the food warehouse, everyone could hear everything. Maia told me she’d had it coming but I know it was partly my fault.

  “It’s amazing out here, isn’t it?” she says. “I love this state.”

  “Yeah. Amazing.” My answer doesn’t sound sarcastic, surprisingly.

  “Bleh.” She frowns at her hand. “I took one of your granola bars by accident. These taste like birdshit, Blake. How do you eat these?”

  “Quickly.” One of the benefits of being under Cordero’s wing is that she’s hyperinvolved on almost every level. When she learned about my digestive issues, she had it checked out. Turns out I have celiac disease, which is about as sexy as it sounds. Eating is less physically painful now, which is good. But the trade-off is the grief I get for it. I can turn into fire. I have a burning horse and sword. Given the context, I can see the humor in War having a sensitive tummy. “See ya, Maia.”

  I’ve only taken five steps when her radio crackles. She answers and I hear Low’s drawl. “You with Blake?”

  “He’s right in front of me.” Maia hands me the radio.

  “Blake, over.”

  “The drone just found her. Looks like she’s headin’ back here.”

  “Is Bas with her?”

  “No, it’s just her. No one else.”

  CHAPTER 7

  DARYN

  For the longest time, I lie in a wet puddle. Curled up like it’s my bed. Like I’m not freezing or aching, or so disappointed I want to step outside of myself. Leave all that’s me behind.

  My lower back stings as rainwater meets the gashes the creature gave me. And my palms are rope-burned. Neither compare to the throbbing at the base of my skull.

  The pressure is receding in pulses. It is like a heartbeat of pain, lessening by the second.

  Shadow ambles over and snuffles my ear, telling me it’s time to move.

  I force myself to sit up and wince as dizziness hits me.

  When the world stops spinning, I climb to my feet and see the orb. Once again I pluck the glowing little ball from the air. As it dims in my aching palms, the crack that runs through it splinters and shudders, and a piece of the orb breaks off.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  A small shard, curved and rose petal shaped, has chipped off the main orb.

  I brush rain off the surface. There are more fractures now, too. Cracks all over it, like it’s sunbaked earth.

  There’s no question about it anymore. With every use, it’s becoming more fragile and compromised. I wonder if it’ll eventually be damaged beyond use and won’t open the portal at all. I have to assume so.

  Panic flutters in my chest.

  I’m not holding an hourglass in my hands, but it feels the same.

  Carefully, I slip both pieces of the orb into my backpack. Then I hoist myself into the saddle and head for the Smith Cabin.

  Home.

  Shadow’s stride is sluggish and defeated. She’s as downtrodden as I am.

  The storm is passing. The rain is lessening.

  It feels like a betray
al.

  My storm isn’t passing. I haven’t moved forward. I don’t know which way I’ve moved. My mind feels too foggy and slow to process what I just went through.

  What was that horrible creature that attacked me?

  Why was Mom in there? Was it even her?

  I’m so consumed by trying to make sense of things that I’m not prepared when Shadow rears up. I fly back, pitching off the saddle, and land on my side on wet grass.

  Only then do I see it.

  Something silver just whizzed past us.

  Shadow casts one look at me like she’s trying to shake it off, but the whizzing sound returns. I’ve never seen a drone—not in person—but I know that’s what the tiny remote-controlled-looking plane is.

  I know it’s going to terrify my horse, too.

  As the drone circles back, Shadow shoots off as fast as a bolt of lightning. In just a few of her long strides, I’ve lost sight of her. She’s disappeared into the darkness.

  I jump up. “Shadow!” I chase after her, but she’s gone.

  Vanished.

  My girl. My connection to Bas and the guys. My connection to my sanity.

  I keep running, sprinting home, the backpack slapping at the cuts on my back, tears lodged in my throat, but hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe she went to the Smith Cabin? Maybe she’ll be there? Please be there.

  But as I’m coming up on the property, everything looks wrong.

  There are spotlights everywhere.

  Cars everywhere.

  People everywhere.

  I know what this is. I know who’s here.

  My boots suck to the mud as my legs grow heavy. I push on. Forward. No matter how hard this will be.

  As I walk up I feel exposed by the lights. Everything I want to hide, visible.

  I don’t have Sebastian ambling beside me with his long strides.

  I don’t even have Shadow.

  I have nothing.

  I have failure.

  Failure is something I have to spare at this very moment.

  I’m covered in mud and bleeding and could there possibly be a worse time for this?

  Isabel stands on the porch. She’s the only one I want to see. Around her are strangers strapped with weapons and wearing serious, unfriendly expressions.

  Then I see Jode standing at the base of the porch steps. And Marcus right beside him. And if I let myself keep panning over it would be Gideon standing there with them.

  As I reach them, stopping in front of Jode, I know what I don’t want to say more than what I do want to say. “Shadow bolted. She threw me about a mile west of here. All these lights and people, and the drone—they scared her.”

  The line between Jode’s eyebrows deepens. I know he’s processing much more information than what I’ve just told him. He looks slightly older and more rugged, like some of the crisp blue-blood edges have worn away. All the memories of him from our time on trains and in fjords flutter right beneath my eyelids. Jode riding Lucent. Jode with his nose buried in a book. Jode with a wry smirk on his face.

  “We’ll have the lights shut off,” he says, like this is natural conversation following the eight months we’ve spent apart. “And we didn’t know the drone would scare her.” Then he opens his arms. Jode, who’s the least affectionate. The least likely to do exactly what he’s doing.

  I step in.

  Our hug is firm, quick, and horribly unsatisfying.

  When I step away I want to crawl under the slats of the porch but Marcus is right there, waiting.

  The sight of him is almost enough to break my control. I don’t know how to pretend around Marcus—we’ve never been anything but straight with each other—and if he asks me if I’m okay …

  “We missed you, D.” He wraps me into his arms.

  “Me too,” I croak into his shoulder.

  Then I turn to Gideon and freeze. For a lifetime.

  He’s right in front of me but I can’t seem to absorb seeing him. He’s like the sun—only visible indirectly. Somehow we move toward each other.

  His arms fold around me. I’m shaking, but I can’t stop it. This feels so forced, so false. When he squeezes, he unknowingly presses right on the cuts on my lower back.

  Reflexively, my lungs pull in and my back goes straight.

  I feel him freeze, tensing, but I dart back and immediately shut it down.

  The pain. The disappointment. The fear.

  I did all I could. Now it’s time to move on.

  “We should go inside,” I say to anyone who cares. “I have a lot to tell you.”

  CHAPTER 8

  GIDEON

  After months of not knowing, the time for answers has finally arrived.

  Maybe.

  This is Daryn.

  With her, information is never a sure thing.

  I lean against the living room wall between Maia and Suarez and listen to her describe the crumbling orb, the pain of going through the portal, and then arriving at the woods she discovered on the other side.

  She speaks slowly, her eyes on the mug of tea in her hands that’s no longer steaming. Occasionally she pauses for long stretches to either think or collect herself. I think I used to be able to tell.

  “The pain subsided once you were through?” Cordero asks, posing one of few questions so far. She’s kept her interruptions to a minimum, letting Daryn set the pace.

  “Yes. It was tearing pain at first. It felt like…” Daryn shakes her head. “Like a rift. A break inside me. Once that passed, though, I still felt pressure in the back of my head. Not a headache exactly, just … pressure.”

  I glance at the owl clock on the wall in the kitchen. One thirty in the morning, but no one looks tired.

  Ben and Soraya run voice and video recorders on the coffee table in front of Daryn. Cordero sits directly opposite her in a straight-backed chair. Isabel is next to Daryn on the couch. Jode, Marcus, Low, and a couple of the techs are scattered around the room. We’ve been doing this for over an hour but it feels like five minutes. I’ve never seen a dozen people keep still for this long.

  I’m the only one who’s not locked into every word. My mind keeps taking detours, trying to reconcile the Daryn I remember with the Daryn in front of me. It’s like getting the same picture but with a better exposure.

  And I also keep thinking about what she’s hiding.

  I know she’s bleeding beneath the blanket pulled over her shoulders. After I hugged her, there was blood on my prosthetic.

  Who hurt her? Samrael? Why hasn’t she said anything about it?

  When she describes the white flowers that she followed, her voice becomes quieter and more measured, and I’m in. She has my full attention.

  “I followed them,” she says. “It almost felt like … like they were creating a path for me through the woods. Then … then I saw her. My mother.”

  For a second, no one breathes. Then Isabel asks the question on all our minds.

  “Daryn, your mother? She was there?”

  “Yes.” Daryn looks up from her tea. “She was there. I don’t know if she was real or if I imagined her.” She frowns, her eyes going distant. “She seemed real. I mean … it was exactly her. Her voice. Her expressions. She told me she knew I’d come for her. She said all these things … I was talking to her. But then the creature came and she disappeared.”

  “Creature?” Cordero says.

  Daryn looks at her. “The one that attacked me.”

  There’s a stir of surprise around the living room but I’ve been waiting for this. Still, my pulse starts to race as Daryn describes it.

  “It was horrible. Worse than horrible. Harrowing,” she concludes.

  “Any idea what it wanted?” Cordero asks.

  Daryn shakes her head. “I thought it wanted to kill me. It definitely tried at first. But then it went back for my backpack. That’s where the orb was—inside.”

  “Did the creature get to it?”

  “No. I lassoed it and strung it up in one of t
he trees.”

  Pause.

  Pause, pause, pause.

  Jode turns his ear. “Say again?”

  “I lassoed it with a lariat I had tied to Shadow’s saddle and hung it from a tree.”

  Marcus smiles. Low and Suarez look at each other, eyebrows rising.

  Then, for the first time since we came inside the cabin, Daryn looks at me.

  None of my planning works. I have no idea what to say.

  What she did was completely badass and dangerous and I know she’s hurt and probably almost died. But none of that comes out of my mouth. Nothing does. I just cross my arms, hiding my prosthetic like a coward.

  Why do I keep doing this? I’m not embarrassed about robohand. Never have been before.

  Cordero keeps us on track. “You restrained it with a rope. Then what happened?”

  “It told me that I’d never get Sebastian. And it told me not to even try, that there were more of them, those harrowing things. Dozens or … or maybe more.”

  I push off the wall, anger bolting through me. “It told you that?” No one’s stopping me from getting Bastian back.

  “Not in those exact words.”

  “What exactly did it say? Did it say he’s alive?” My voice comes out harder than I intend, and all eyes are on me.

  I look at Suarez. A vein stands out on his neck. I look at Maia. She’s about to bite through her lower lip.

  The signs are there. Time for me to become absent again.

  I pull open the door and step outside.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Marcus joins me on the porch. “Cordero’s calling it. We’ll pick up in the morning. Probably a good idea for people to take a break.”

  “Okay. Actually, no. Not okay. Bas is in there with those things, Shadow’s missing, and we’re taking a break to get some sleep?”

  “We’re looking for Shadow. And Daryn’s fried, man. You saw her.”

  “It took her eight months to do something, Marcus. Sebastian’s been in there this whole time. Wounded. On his own. What do you think’s happening to him? You think he’s taking a break to get some rest? Sorry, but I’m having a hard time feeling bad that Daryn’s a little tired when Sebastian could be getting tortured or worse.”

  I don’t know why I say it. It helps no one. I’m not even sure I mean it.