Seeker

by Veronica Rossi

  I’m rambling. But Marcus saves me. “D, it’s all right.”

  “You have to be so angry at me.”

  Jode rolls his eyes. “Would we ever hurt you on purpose?”

  “Maybe you’re not mad, but … Gideon.”

  They exchange a look. “Talk to him,” Jode says.

  “I don’t see that happening.” Regardless, something starts to patch together inside me. This is a good step with Jode and Marcus, at least. Suddenly I feel a rush of optimism. I want to catch up on the past eight months. “You looked handsome, Marcus.”

  He smiles. “Right now?”

  “In your uniform at the ceremony in Georgia.”

  He laughs. “So not right now?”

  “Yes, right now. But especially that day.”

  “Cease, Daryn, I beg you. Or we’ll never hear the end of it.” The smile fades from Jode’s eyes as he looks past me. “Here come our marching orders.”

  Natalie Cordero walks across this devastation with a sure stride and sensible heels. She’s put on dark sunglasses and it unnerves me to not see her eyes. “It makes an impact, doesn’t it?” she says. “I wanted to show you this so you’d have some sense of the effect of going into the Rift.”

  “The Rift?”

  “Last night you used the word a few times when you described crossing over. My team liked it and we needed to call the realm something. They also adopted a variation of your description for the creature. They’re calling it a Harrow.”

  Ugh. Your description. And my team. I hear what she’s not saying, loud and clear.

  Cordero removes her sunglasses and slips them into the pocket of her jacket. “Daryn, I know you want to go back for Sebastian. We all do. But as you can see, we can’t do that here without causing serious damage to the surroundings, not to mention the danger it would mean if some of the Harrows were to escape. We need to move to a safer location where the signature won’t be as evident and where I can stage a covert defense force.

  “My analysts have recommended a site in the Nevada desert. It’s desolate. The terrain won’t show the signature, like here. And it’s already government property, so it’s secure. I have people setting it up. It’ll be ready for us when we get there.”

  I try to wrap my head around what she just said. “You want to relocate everyone to Nevada?”

  “I’m going to relocate everyone to Nevada. It’s already happening.” She checks her watch. “We fly out in two hours.”

  “Well, have a nice flight. I’m not going anywhere until I find Shadow.”

  “We found her. Rather, she came back to the ranch and we were able to bring her in. She was trailered to the airport ten minutes ago and loaded onto the plane.”

  “She’s—what? What did you do?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You can’t load her onto a plane! She’s traumatized!”

  Cordero’s back straightens. “She resisted at first but she’s on board, unharmed, and already en route.”

  “You sent her without me?”

  I guess I’m yelling, because Isabel and Gideon rush over. The rest of Cordero’s precious team has stopped what they’re doing to listen.

  “It’s a short flight and you’ll be right behind her,” she replies. “As soon as we’re all in Nevada, we can regroup.”

  I’m beyond anger. Beyond words. Shadow has become as close as my own soul. If there’s one thing I’ve done right these past months, it’s protect Sebastian’s horse.

  “What’s going on?” Gideon asks as he walks up, his blue eyes sharp. For the first time, it feels like he sees me. Like we see each other.

  “It’s Shadow,” Jode says, and starts to explain.

  A sick, panicky feeling spreads over me. I interrupt him. “Where’s the orb?” I know where it should be—where I stashed it last night, in my backpack in my trunk at the Smith Cabin. In two pieces. How could I leave it behind?

  “It’s secure,” Cordero says. “Nothing will happen to it.”

  “You took it? You searched through my things?”

  “I couldn’t leave such a powerful and important object unprotected. It’s safe. Much safer than where we found it.”

  “Who do you think you are?” I feel like I’ve just relinquished all my power. No—not relinquished. It’s been taken from me. “You can’t just show up and do anything you want!”

  “I’m only trying to plan and execute our next rescue attempt as expeditiously as possible. A life is at stake, Daryn. Every second counts.”

  What can I say to that? I’m the girl who waited eight months to make a move.

  “Then I guess we better get going.” I walk away, thinking only of Shadow.

  I have to get back to her side.

  * * *

  We make a quick stop at the cabin to pack.

  I stuff clothes into my duffel and then shove my journal and my letters to my family in my backpack. I got so used to living on bare necessities while I was a Seeker that I don’t own much, only things that have meaning.

  The orb has meaning—and it should be right here.

  A wave of anger at Cordero moves through me, but I zip up the pack and sling it over my shoulder, wincing as it bumps my lower back.

  As I look around my tiny room, a feeling like pre-nostalgia moves through me.

  I’ll never come back here. I feel it somehow, this knowledge, and it makes me wistful. I’ve been incredibly sad within these walls, but they’ve protected me. This room has held my sadness. That’s something.

  There’s a soft knock on my door, then Isabel steps in wearing a sad smile. For a few seconds we just stand there, saying nothing. Then she says, “I have to stay.”

  “Oh.” The only reason she’d ever leave me is because the Sight has told her to. Because she’s needed somewhere else. Not with me. But it doesn’t change the way it makes me feel. Unmoored. Cut loose. Without her and without Shadow there’s nothing for me to hold on to, and though I did that for a year, traveled the world alone, the idea of solitude now sends a swirl of anxiety through me.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave me unsupervised with Cordero?” My attempt at a joke falls flat. Isabel knows exactly how hard this is for me.

  “Natalie is on your side, Daryn. Let her help you.” She places her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “And you have the guys—”

  “I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do. They’re with you. But never forget that you know what you’re doing.”

  “Do I? Do I know how to fight off dozens of freaky creatures with no eyes?”

  “You don’t have to fight. Fighting isn’t the answer.”

  “You didn’t see that thing. It was evil. You don’t make friends with it.”

  “Friendship isn’t what you need to offer. Daryn, evil is its own undoing.”

  “You mean they’ll suddenly see the error of their ways? I don’t think so.”

  Isabel sighs. Smiles. “Listen to your heart. Pray on it. You’ll know what’s right.”

  Jode calls from the family room, telling me they’re ready to leave.

  “Go,” Isabel says. “And trust, even when it’s difficult. Especially when it’s difficult.”

  I hug her quickly. Then I grab my duffel and my backpack and hurry outside.

  Trust? Trust who?

  I should’ve asked.

  CHAPTER 10

  GIDEON

  Our private charter is still ten minutes away when we get to the airport, so the team fans out around the small terminal to wait. We’ve spent the past few days hustling and we’re all tired. No one passes up the chance to zone out or grab a few minutes of sleep.

  I’m about to sit by Marcus and Jode when I see Daryn enter the women’s room.

  I should go talk to her. Clear the air. The sooner the better.

  “The men’s room is that way, G,” Marcus says.

  “But Daryn’s not in the men’s room,” Jode adds.

  Marcus’s eyebrows climb. “Ohhh.”

  “G
et your asses up and watch the door,” I tell them. “And shut up? Like, preemptively shut up about anything you do or do not observe in the next ten minutes.”

  When I step inside, Daryn is splashing cold water on her face at the sink. She doesn’t react at all when she sees me. Just grabs a paper towel and dries off.

  “Um … are you lost?” she asks. Her eyes are red, and I can’t tell if she’s been crying or if she’s just tired.

  “No.” I reach into my pockets and pull out the butterfly bandages and antiseptic I grabbed earlier from a medical kit. It was smart of her to wrap the flannel around her waist. You wouldn’t be able to see the bloodstains on the plaid pattern unless you were looking. I was looking.

  Daryn glances toward the door.

  “No one’ll come in.”

  Her shoulders relax. She unties her flannel slowly and sets it on the sink.

  I stand behind her, putting the supplies on the counter.

  The gray T-shirt she’s wearing is sticking to the wound as she tries to lift it up. “Can you—?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” She props her arms on the sink and squeezes her eyes shut as I peel the fabric up.

  I almost can’t contain my reaction. Three gashes run sideways across her lower back where her spine curves. They’re deep cuts. Angry.

  Instantly, so am I. She dealt with this kind of danger. I wasn’t there to help. None of us were. It’s not right.

  I draw a breath and concentrate on settling down. There’s nothing I can do to change this right now except treat it. But when the times comes, whatever did this to her is going to suffer.

  I notice there are also pale scars running perpendicular to the cuts, faint lines on her bronze skin. Daryn told me how she got them, escaping from the mental hospital where she ended up when she started having visions. She’s been through a hell of a lot in the past couple of years. Most of it on her own.

  “Is it bad?” she asks.

  I clear my throat. “On a scale of one to ten this is probably a five.”

  “Will I live?”

  I meet her eyes in the mirror. “Yeah. You’ll live.”

  I clean her up with some wet paper towels, then use the gauze pads to stanch the bleeding. Since I’m standing right behind her she can’t see robohand, but its whirring sound seems louder than normal, and bad. I use it as little as possible, ripping open the packaging for the butterfly bandages and gauze with my teeth.

  As I treat the cuts, a whole other part of my mind is noticing unrelated things, like the white lace peeking above the waistline of her jeans. The goose bumps on her skin and all the ways her body curves. The clean, flowery smell of her hair makes my heart bang against my ribs.

  I’ll be revisiting these details at a later time, no doubt. And often.

  When I apply the antiseptic, Daryn drops her head and laughs a shaky laugh. “Um, you said five? It hurts like a ten.”

  “Five was a preliminary number until I got a better look. This is a seven point five—that’s an official diagnosis.” In several spots the cuts graze muscle. I’d be howling if I were in her place. I’d be crawling up the walls and begging to be put out of my misery. “But the good news is you won’t need stitches if you can keep these bandages on.”

  “I promise I won’t rip them off.” I know she’s smiling but I keep my head down. Keep on task. “Can I ask you something? How do you work with Cordero? She’s so pushy.”

  “She’s not that bad. She can be bullheaded but her heart’s in the right place. I know she screwed up with Shadow but I think she feels bad.”

  “How can you tell? Did she appoint someone on the team to feel feelings for her?”

  “Nah. Some people just have a hard time saying they’re sorry. They show it through their actions.”

  “They showpologize?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I think I know someone like that.”

  “Oh, definitely. Marcus is the worst. He’ll eat his shoes before he apologizes.”

  Daryn laughs. “Weird how I don’t remember that about him at all.” She twists her hair over her shoulder, doing this spiral thing I remember, and shifts her weight. “You and I have made some real memories in bathrooms.”

  I almost fumble the butterfly bandage in my hand.

  She’s bringing this up?

  Last time we were in a bathroom together it was in Rome and we kissed. A lot. First and only time that happened. I have no idea why she’s mentioning it and I don’t want to know.

  “That’s right,” I say, like I’d forgotten about it. “Okay. All done.” I wad up the trash and toss it.

  She turns to me and I shove my hand into my pocket. This hangup I have with her and my prosthetic is getting old. I’m not self-conscious about it. I wasn’t, even when I first got it.

  Daryn arches her back, testing out my patch job. “Thank you.” Her shirt’s still pulled up and my self-control doesn’t kick in fast enough to stop me from sneaking a glance. Her stomach is bare and smooth. Amazing. Just … amazing. “It hurts more, which I think is a good sign?”

  Sign. Hurts. Wound—her wound. “It’ll feel better in a couple of hours. I’ll check it later and change the dressing.”

  “That sounds good. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Did I just say “you’re welcome” for something I haven’t done yet? “You may want to change into a clean shirt.”

  Her mouth lifts on one side. “I’ll do that after you leave.”

  Don’t let me stop you. Go right ahead. “Okay.”

  I catch a glimpse of my reflection and want to bang my head against the mirror. I look insane. Partly like I want to jump her and partly like I’m watching the most incredible sunset I’ve ever seen. Time to get this under control. “Daryn, we need to be able to work together. For Bastian’s sake. We have to be professional. Civil. Let bygones be bygones.”

  “Definitely.” She nods. Frowns. “Professional and civil. Of course.”

  “Good.” With that settled, I get myself out of there.

  Apart from sounding like a moron a few times, I handled that much better than yesterday. Didn’t yell or make stupid accusations. Did everything I planned to do, so. Successful mission.

  Outside, Marcus runs a hand down his jaw. “Blake, man.” He shakes his head.

  “What?” I look from him to Jode. “What?”

  Jode laughs his psycho-kid laugh, a short one like a hiccup. “You’re a bloody idiot.”

  * * *

  Because we have to go around some weather our flight lasts slightly longer than it should, an hour and twenty minutes. We land on an airstrip on a playa, a wide stretch of paper-flat desert framed by low mountains. As we taxi I can see our base—a series of trailers, semis, and vans. A modular building is going up at the center. A crew lifts huge light panels that flash in the sun, like ants carrying around leaves. Then I see the plane sitting on the opposite end of the runway.

  Shadow is in there.

  A few seats over, Daryn’s watching it too, barely blinking.

  The MI Trio are waiting for me as I deplane.

  Soraya hands me a radio. “Just holler if you need anything.”

  “Thanks.” I slide it into my pocket. A cool breeze blows past, carrying a slight scent of sulfur.

  “Or push the button and tell us what you need,” Ben says. “That thing’s got a mile range. The whole point is you shouldn’t have to holler!” He laughs way too much, his shoulders shaking like he’s working a jackhammer.

  “We’re really tired,” Sophia says.

  Soraya nods. “Major sleep debt.”

  I thank them and jog to catch up to Marcus, Daryn, and Jode, who are already halfway to the other plane.

  Daryn sees me coming and frowns. “Where’s everyone else going?”

  “Away,” Jode says. “To make it easier for Shadow.”

  She squints up at Marcus. “You guys arranged this?”

  “G did while you were gettin’ packed.”

  “We
all did.” I tip my head at the guys. “They came with me to talk to Cordero.”

  Jode shrugs. “But it was your idea. Marcus and I simply stood there. You did all the talking.”

  “That’s right. We just backed you up.” Marcus nods a few times.

  I telepathically inform them that I’ll be kicking their asses as soon as the opportunity arises. “Shadow will have a stable by your RV,” I tell Daryn. “It’s being set up on the edge of camp opposite the generators, so hopefully it’ll be quieter. It might not help much, but … maybe it’ll help.”

  She doesn’t say anything. I wonder if she’s thinking, Showpology?

  I also wonder if it’s working and if I’m hitting the bar we’ve set for professional, civil conduct.

  As we near the ramp I remember Shadow and Bas on the plane we took to Rome last fall. Both of them tall and spindly. Bas wearing the goofy grin he always got around his mare, and saying, You can lead a horse to Rome, Gideon. But you can’t make it drink every day. So random. I don’t know why Bas made me laugh so much. He just surprised me all the time.

  Bas and Shadow were the first to bond. He was always a few steps ahead of the rest of us without even trying. Things just come easily to Bas, like he’s ad-libbing through life, no problem. That’s how I know he’s still alive. Bas is the least lethal one of us, but he’s the real survivor.

  I stop as soon as I hear loud, labored breathing coming from inside the plane. Shadow. It sounds like she’s hyperventilating.

  “Stay out here and keep the ramp clear,” Daryn says. She breaks into a sprint and plunges into the darkness of the cargo hold.

  Seconds pass. A full minute.

  Against the glare of the playa the hold is dark and I can’t see anything.

  “Should we go after her?” I ask Jode.

  But then finally I hear Daryn’s voice. “It’s okay, girl. It’s all right. It’s just us. The guys are here to see you. Gideon and Marcus and Jode. They’re right outside.”

  Shadow’s long black legs emerge from the pitch dark. Shaking legs, moving one at a time. Then her powerful chest and long neck move into the sunlight.