Seeker

by Veronica Rossi

  Riot and I crash against each other, staggering as we try to keep our feet. I grab my sword and drive it into the ice. Holding on to the pommel, I wait for Riot to slam into me; then I wrap my arm around his neck.

  “Riot, stay! Riot, stop moving!”

  His legs lock and he trusts me to hold him still.

  Thousands of pounds of him.

  Every muscle in my body strains to keep him steady until the ice floe finally stops rocking. Slushy water rushes past my boots. Riot makes defeated sounds. Awful whimpering sounds unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him—and that I never even thought possible.

  Jode stands at the edge of our ice floe. He rises slowly, now that it’s more stable. Black water surrounds us, broken chunks of ice floating by.

  Jode drops the rope at his feet and draws his bow. He fires three shots into the sky. Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt. But we both know it’s a pointless call for help.

  We aren’t accidental victims of peril. Peril is after us. The Rift is.

  There’s no solution. Riot’s shaking with fear. I’m shaking with anger, with the effort of holding him. With powerlessness.

  More chunks of ice snap and splash. “I’ve had about enough of this,” Jode says. He draws the bowstring, calling up another arrow, and looks at me. “Say the word.”

  I look at Riot, fighting for his life. But we’re going through anyway. It might as well be on our terms. I lift my sword from the ice, sheathe it, and firm my hold around Riot’s neck. “Do it.”

  Jode fires at the smooth stretch of ice between us.

  Nothing happens for a second. Then the world tilts.

  Riot and I hit the ice. We slide into cold dark water that swallows us, and we sink in its teeth.

  CHAPTER 23

  DARYN

  “Gideon, wait.” I jog to catch up to him as he rushes ahead. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to find Marcus,” he says without slowing down.

  “Marcus? He should be—”

  “I’ll find him. Go back,” he calls over his shoulder.

  Okay, that was kind of rude. Even though he’s right. I should go back to the lake. I left my backpack down there. But I keep after him. Something isn’t right.

  Five minutes ago, he stalked down to where I was sitting by the lake and asked about Marcus, not once looking at me. As I replied that I saw Marcus a little while ago, Gideon walked away. Before I’d even finished speaking.

  I jumped up and followed him.

  I’m still following him.

  And I still don’t know what’s going on.

  “Did you guys fight?” I jog a few steps to keep up. I can’t believe I’m even asking the question. I haven’t seen Gideon and Marcus so much as argue since the first days they knew each other. It was ugly then, sure. It’s like they packed all the animosity their relationship was meant to have right at the beginning. But that’s behind them. Isn’t it?

  “Can you just slow down for a second?” Once again, he doesn’t answer me. It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. “Wait.” I grab his arm. “Gideon, what’s—?”

  When his blue eyes finally come to me, my legs lock and fear shoots down my spine.

  They’re the first things I fell for, his eyes. They’re honest, soulful eyes. And they’re beautiful. I’ve kissed his eyes. So the change I see in them now jars me.

  I’m not looking at Gideon. I’m looking at someone, or something, with no soul.

  I snatch my hand away.

  “Go back,” he repeats. “I have to find Marcus. He needs to learn a lesson.”

  A lesson?

  He turns sharply, staring off into the dense trees for an instant, then he breaks into a run.

  Behind me, toward the lake, comes a crackling noise. Shockingly loud.

  Jode is probably back there, but something is horribly wrong. I make a split-second decision and follow Gideon—the thing that looks like him—chasing after him through the woods.

  “Marcus!” he roars, his pace blistering, his prosthetic flashing in the morning light. “Where are you?”

  The voice is different. Gritty and bent on violence. I don’t know why I didn’t catch that before.

  He’s running upslope. My thighs start to burn, but terror propels me. I stay right with him as we dodge branches and weave through trees. My gaze falls on the sword sheathed at his back. If I can take it away from him, he’ll have no weapon. Less chance of hurting Marcus. I make a push, pulling out all the speed I have, and reach for it.

  He whirls around and grabs my wrist so fast I nearly smash into him. His grip is like a vise, and I hear myself cry out.

  “You can’t stop us,” he says.

  Us?

  Oh no.

  Movement to my right draws my attention. Someone else is running through the trees. I recognize the deep red armor and sandy blond hair. The easy athleticism of his movements.

  Gideon?

  As he draws nearer, I see that it is him.

  Another one of him.

  “Marcus! Where are you?” His eyes pan the woods intently. Every bit as much on the hunt. He runs right past me and Gideon—no, the impostor holding my wrist—without a glance or a trace of recognition.

  I whirl to the pounding of footsteps behind me.

  Another figure. Gideon again. Also moving swiftly, hungrily.

  “Look, Seeker.” The Gideon in front of me smiles—a smile full of cruel intentions. “More than me.”

  A chill races down my spine at the words—words the Harrow spoke to me the first time I entered the Rift.

  “Who are you? What are you?”

  “A torment. A haunting.” He releases my arm and turns to the sound of Marcus’s voice.

  Marcus is close, and he’s heard the calls for him.

  “I’m here!” he calls back. “Gideon! I’m here!”

  “Marcus, no!” I yell, and instantly realize my mistake. Marcus will only come faster if he thinks I’m in trouble.

  With single-minded focus, the impostor in front of me shoots off. I chase after him again, launching over twisting roots, the forest blurring by me.

  This can’t be real, can it? What are they going to do?

  Moments later, with my lungs and legs burning, I arrive at a clearing.

  Marcus stands at the center with the scythe planted at his side. All around him are doubles of Gideon.

  I count a dozen.

  If he’s stunned by the sight, Marcus doesn’t show it. He casts a steady look around, seeming almost disinterested. Then his gaze stops on me and comprehension flares in his eyes. He knows that I’m real, at least.

  “You think we’re brothers, Marcus?” says one of the doubles. “Is that what you think? Well, we’re not. You’re not my blood. You’re nothing like me. You’re worthless.”

  Marcus doesn’t move. Not a muscle. But the words inflict a blow that even I feel.

  They step closer to Marcus like a pack of wolves, working together. Flames kindle on the swords, running along the blades and up over their arms.

  I’ve never seen Gideon like this. Burning, without Riot.

  “Stop!” I yell. They don’t. Why did I even try?

  As they draw close, ten feet away from Marcus, I bolt forward, pushing my legs to sprint hard. I don’t know how to help, but I can’t let this happen.

  They see me coming. Two swords shoot out, crossing in front of me.

  Much lower than hurdles.

  I leap over them. As I land, my momentum sends me into Marcus, who catches me with his free arm.

  “Marcus,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “It’s not Gideon.”

  “You gonna believe her?” asks one of them. “She doesn’t care about you, either. No one does, Marcus. No one. Your parents didn’t—that’s for damn sure. None of your foster families did. Your coaches didn’t care. I definitely don’t care. You think I want you living at my house? You think I like seeing you freeloading off my mom? Looking at my sister? I’ve got plenty of friends, Marcus. I don
’t need you. And we sure as hell aren’t family. You’re a charity case. That’s all you are. What’s it going to take before you get it through your skull? You’re worth nothing. You aren’t worth the air you breathe.”

  It’s not just hearing the words from Gideon’s mouth that’s soul-crushing; it’s seeing the hatred in his face. The coldness.

  “You’re full of lies,” Marcus says.

  “I’m not. It’s the truth,” says one.

  Another adds, “You know what else is true? I’m going to kill you.” He slices the air with the sword, two quick slashes to underscore the words. “Are you going to fight back? You’ll lose. You’ll only make it worse. You’ll get Daryn hurt.”

  “Marcus.” I step in closer. My shoulder presses against his chest and I can feel the way his heart is hammering. “They won’t attack us.”

  “No?” says one of them.

  All at once, they lunge forward, a savage blur of steel and physical force.

  It’s so fast. Marcus doesn’t have time to swing the scythe. Maybe he can’t make himself do it.

  We turn in to each other, responding to some primitive instinct to huddle, protect, and be close. Then I feel it. Bright, piercing pain. Pain like lighting bolts. I feel every one of the dozen swords slashing through me. Cutting through my arms, my thighs, and my heart.

  Marcus jolts in my arms—or it’s me—or it’s both of us. The pain is complete and it lasts lifetimes. I want it to end, to finish—or for it to finish me. My legs shudder. My mind shudders. And still, I hear their yelling and their taunts.

  “I’ll destroy you, Marcus!”

  “You’re pathetic!”

  They come from every direction, relentless and bloodthirsty.

  Then, suddenly, silence rushes in. Roaring silence.

  Faintly, I hear myself gasping for air. Marcus, huffing by my cheek. The pain washes out of me with every breath. With each one, I feel stronger.

  “Are they gone?” My voice is a croak. Marcus’s arms are like slabs of concrete around me. He loosens them and we step back—and my balance wavers.

  Neither one of us has a scratch, but my stomach’s churning. My legs feel unsteady. Shaky and undependable.

  The clearing is empty. No one else is here anymore.

  “Marcus—” I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. “Gideon would never say that. He’d never say those things.”

  Marcus puts his hands on his hips and drops his eyes. I can still see the pain in him. The doubt is coiled in his body. The hurt is.

  “He wouldn’t, Marcus. He’d never even think them.”

  He looks up. “You don’t know what’s in his head.”

  “But I know I’m right.”

  “You’re saying that to protect him. He could be thinking everything we just heard. It could be what he’s always thinking. He could be—”

  I step close and look right into his eyes. “No. Don’t let this place ruin your friendship. Don’t let it poison your heart. Gideon loves you, Marcus. Maybe he’s never said it outright, but—” But what, Daryn? “But he’s never said he loves me either, and—” And what, Daryn? “And I know that he likes me, at least.”

  A smile lights in Marcus’s eyes. “At least.” He shakes his head. “Daryn…” He looks around the clearing slowly. “I don’t want to doubt him.”

  “Then choose not to.”

  “You think you choose what you believe?”

  “Yes,” I say without thinking. Without knowing whether I mean it. I just need him and Gideon to stay good. I need it desperately. We all do, in order to find Bas.

  He wraps his hand around the staff of the scythe and pulls it out of the ground, setting it on his shoulder. “We should go back.”

  We’re quiet on the walk. I can’t help worrying about where this will lead. We’re being haunted. We’ve managed to stay together so far and unaffected by the stress, for the most part. But I can’t see that lasting. The Rift will change us if we stay here long enough. It could destroy us, I think.

  Which makes me think of Bas, who’s been here eight months.

  How has he survived the Rift?

  CHAPTER 24

  GIDEON

  As soon as Riot and I go under, my heart stops and cold clamps down on my muscles.

  Chaos swirls around us. Ice slams at us like bricks. There’s no way to see through bubbles and black churning water.

  When Riot yanks away from me, my arms don’t respond, won’t do what they’re supposed to, and I can’t hang on to him.

  He surges away. Surges down, sinking. His legs thrash, trying to gallop underwater. Gallop up, to the surface. To me.

  But he drops like an anchor.

  The flames on his legs go out first. Then his body. His mane and tail, last.

  My horse goes dark like a sinking ship losing its lights.

  He disappears.

  I know I can’t yell out loud so I hold it in, which makes it sound terrible. Like a sob.

  I kick and dive, but my legs have no strength and my arms are even worse. White spots burst before my eyes. My lungs start to convulse. I need air.

  I stop swimming and look up. I can’t see the surface anymore.

  I keep swimming down. I won’t lose my horse this way.

  But my lungs feel like they’re filling with acid, and I can’t hold back anymore.

  I use the last of my breath to yell for Riot.

  Then I brace for ice water to shoot into the back of my mouth.

  Cold air rushes in instead. My oxygen-starved lungs gulp it in, restoring, as my mind races to understand.

  I’m breathing.

  Underwater.

  Or … I’m swimming through air?

  Not the time to figure it out. Riot needs me. I keep searching for him, carving my way through freezing black water that I can somehow breathe. Eyeballs chilling. Fingers numbing. Cold knifing into the back of my throat.

  Bubbles rise up from below. Swarms of bubbles that grow denser, and steal my visibility.

  Then they turn green.

  First pale, then bright, then dark.

  All shades of green.

  As I’m grappling with this, their texture grows brittle against the skin on my arms and my face. A sound rises in my ears, a rustling like shaking leaves, and I feel the slap of bending branches on my legs and back.

  I’m swimming through leaves.

  And I’m going too fast.

  My brain provides theories—gravity, falling through air, through trees.

  None of them make sense, and I’m not ready when the branches vanish. I don’t even brace myself as I fall through the canopy, punching into open air.

  I see the maze of branches above me, the flash of a thick tree trunk, and the next instant I slam against the ground flat on my back.

  My breath pushes out of my chest in one heave, like a balloon popping. I wait for the reverse, the intake, but I’m back to burning, starved lungs that can’t draw any air.

  Jode’s face appears over me, frowning in concern. His wet hair drips water on my forehead. “Are you all right? Gideon, can you move?”

  I thump my chest.

  “Breath get knocked out of you?” The worry leaves his face. “Better work it out, then, because I won’t be giving you mouth-to-mouth. It would be too odd, what with Anna.”

  I flip him the bird.

  He smiles. “There you go. Right as rain again.” He straightens, but I lie there another minute. Shivering. Soaked. Freezing cold. And my chin is throbbing, too.

  “Horses?” I ask, finally able to look around. We’re back in the woods. Back in the clearing where we camped. Where I stood less than an hour ago.

  “Just there. Blazing angry, yours. He’s about to set this entire forest on fire.”

  “Let him.”

  * * *

  Jode’s right. Riot’s not himself.

  Big curls of flame roll up his legs and chest. His amber eyes are huge and distant. For the first time in as long as I can reme
mber, I can’t sense what he’s feeling.

  I rest my hand on his wide forehead and keep it there until his eyes start to soften. Until I feel him grow stronger, his strength relaying back to me.

  “You’re a good horse, Riot.”

  He blows a blustering breath.

  You’re a good human, Gideon. But you could’ve warned me sooner about the ice. I don’t like frozen lakes.

  I pat his neck. Then I hang my arms over the saddle, letting him hold my weight, which makes us both feel better.

  Jode’s busy doing things I can’t see. I hear him walking around behind me. Zipping up bags and talking quietly to Lucent and Ruin.

  “Have you finished licking your wounds?” Jode asks, bringing Lucent and Ruin over by their leads.

  “Haven’t even started yet.”

  “Well, can you wrap it up? We need to find Marcus and Daryn, and Shadow and—”

  “Did you actually think you could pull Riot off that lake with a rope? That you could. All five-foot-ten, a buck sixty of you?”

  “It seemed more promising than standing beside him on shattering ice.”

  “I had a plan, Drummy.”

  “Did you? And what was it?”

  “Not die. And it worked.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “I can’t argue that.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Why?” he says, staring across the trees.

  “I don’t know. I think I might have had a nightmare just like that at some point.”

  He glances at me. “Do you think the Rift is trying to destroy us?”

  “It’s trying to do something.” I realize I don’t trust anything here. Not the trees or even the sky. Everything feels like it could change at any second. Jode’s the only thing here I trust. Jode and the horses.

  Jode rubs his head, making his damp hair spike. “It was him, Gideon. Across the water. It was Sebastian. Shadow wouldn’t have left us for any other reason.”

  “He wasn’t alone.”

  “I saw that. Do you think they were real? Or part of the trial?”

  Trial, he calls it. Felt more like torture.

  “I don’t know,” I say. Even Shadow, out there in the middle of the ice, could’ve been fake. “Part of me hopes so.”