Seeker

by Veronica Rossi

  Bas still hasn’t said a word to me. It’s like I’m invisible to him.

  “Riot,” Jode says. “Soon after we came back in, we saw him with some Harrows, and you nowhere to be seen. We got Riot back, and let him lead the way. He came right to the entrance of the tunnels.”

  I pat Riot’s neck. He makes a sound deep in his throat, his eyes glowing in the dim room.

  “I’d seen those corridors once before,” Bas says. “I’d gone exploring one day when Rael was gone. When I realized you were in there, I could only imagine one reason why.” He finally meets my eyes. His expression is tragic. He looks broken up. He looks like he’s rethinking his every thought over the past eight months. Like he’s wondering how he could’ve believed a demon over his friends. “He fooled me, Gideon. And you paid the price.”

  “No, Bas. Don’t think for one second this is your fault. No blame, no shame. We stand together and we stand strong. Agreed?”

  He drops his head, pressing his fingers to his eyes.

  Then he looks up and nods. “Yes. Agreed.”

  CHAPTER 41

  DARYN

  The night is endless.

  I pace back and forth in front of the fire in my room. Feeding it until the woodpile is gone. Alternating between soaring emotional highs and crashing lows.

  Gideon is alive! He’s so close!

  But he’s imprisoned.

  Samrael lied to me!

  But now I don’t have to make a decision about letting him leave the Rift. Now I know what’s right.

  I have the power to conjure!

  I have the power to conjure.

  This revelation sticks with me most, terrifies me most.

  I look at the fire and imagine creating Riot.

  I look at the bed and imagine creating Mom, sitting against the pillows. I imagine her holding me.

  I look at the stool by the desk and imagine, randomly, creating the puppy that must be at home chewing on furniture.

  Can I do these things? Call these things into being here?

  Have I been?

  I think back to every little moment I’ve spent here and try to connect some sort of willful intention to create on my part, but I can’t. I wasn’t paying attention to my thoughts—they were just thoughts. I didn’t even think that my thinking might have power.

  But I should have.

  We knew Rael could break into minds. Why didn’t we think he could be behind the hauntings? The Harrows?

  As curious as I am, and as strong as the pull is to see if I can manipulate the Rift, shape it into what I want to see, I lock it away.

  I am not like Samrael. I had begun to think so. I’d begun to see how we’re both fighting to reclaim things we’ve lost. But I am nothing like him.

  As daylight finds all the cracks and parts in the drapes and infiltrates the room, that, at least, I decide. I will not misuse power—power that shouldn’t be mine to begin with.

  Then I leave my room and head downstairs to meet Rael for the morning walk we planned last night during dinner.

  I can’t leave until I find the orb.

  Which means I have to act like nothing has changed.

  But everything has changed.

  Everything.

  * * *

  Rael is waiting for me in the foyer. The front door is open, and he’s gazing outside at an overcast morning. I wonder if he’s contemplating freedom. Or plotting the next move in his nefarious plan.

  Or just thinking about the fun we’ll have on our walk together because we have been having fun. For days.

  He’s easy to talk to. Educated. Intelligent.

  Well-traveled. Well-read.

  He smiles easily, laughs easily.

  He’s honest. Polite. Considerate.

  Contrite. At least I thought so before I learned the truth. I actually believed he was through with hurting people, deceiving them, and using them for his own personal pursuit of power.

  I was so wrong.

  He hears me and turns, smiling as I descend the sweeping stairs. His smile vanishes as I come nearer. “Are you all right?”

  Unlike Bas and Gideon, I will never be able to act my way out of anything. I’ve never been able to lie. Easier for me not to say anything. But in this case, I have to. “I didn’t sleep well. It’s nothing.” I head outside before he can ask me about it.

  “Sorry to hear that. Daryn, is—Daryn, wait. Please wait.”

  I turn, and wonder if my anger is burning through my eyes.

  “Instead of a walk, I thought I might take you somewhere new. I want to talk to you about something important. I’d hoped to do it somewhere … special.”

  Fear weaves a hot thread through my sternum. I instantly regret not having my knife on me. “Sure.”

  “This way,” he says, and motions me past the kitchen, back upstairs.

  I’m painfully aware of his nearness. There’s only one explanation for this.

  He saw Gideon.

  He knows I know everything.

  He’s going to kill me, or pressure me to open the portal.

  Either way, something terrible is coming.

  He steps past me on the second floor, and opens the door to one of the unused bedrooms. He walks to the fireplace, and opens a small door set into the wall beside it.

  “It leads up to the roof.” He holds the door open like a gentleman.

  “You first. I don’t like cobwebs or spiders.”

  He smiles. It’s a shaky smile and he’s looking in my direction but not making eye contact. “Of course. Follow me.”

  The inside is cramped, and smells of mold and wet stone. There’s so little visibility that I bump into Rael’s back twice, kick the step in front of me twice, and graze my shoulders against the walls repeatedly.

  He swings open a small door and daylight sweeps in like a gust, taking me aback.

  We climb out to a narrow ledge framed by a low wall with the crenels I saw days ago. The sky is gray and unsettled.

  There’s hardly any space up here—barely enough room for two people to stand side by side. Rael plants his hands on the ledge. He gazes at the wooded hills with a look of concentration, like he’s working up the nerve to say something.

  I have no idea what. And I don’t know where my anger went, or why all I feel now is sadness.

  He’s not who I thought he was. And, I realize, I was beginning to love his triumph. It inspired me. Such a profound transformation. Such a massive positive shift. I was becoming attached to him. I wanted peace for him. Redemption. Happiness.

  I step to the edge, and see a sliver of the garden beyond sloping rooflines. Another sliver of the wall, circling the hill. And much farther below, the huge sections of the woods that are blackened and gone.

  “I have made a terrible mistake,” Rael says. No lead-up. He comes over to me. I feel how close he is, inches away, but I don’t look at him. If I do, he’ll know. I won’t be able to hide what I’m thinking.

  You’re a liar.

  You’re evil.

  “What mistake?” I ask.

  “I have not been honest with you. I—I have to admit, Daryn … I didn’t believe that anything I could do or say to you would change your view of me. After what I’ve done, to Gideon, to others, I didn’t think you’d be able to offer me another chance.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “I know. You haven’t. But I feel, Daryn … I feel that you might. I feel hopeful. And I want to be worthy of that hope. You’ve looked at me like I am different. Like I’m better than I was. Like I’m worth something. You’ve given that to me freely. It means far more than any amount of respect or deference I could ever produce in others by force. So much more. And I want to feel deserving of it. I want to become what I’ve pretended to be.”

  In my peripheral vision, I see his extended hand. An offering.

  The orb.

  He’s giving me the orb.

  “I took this. The day we went into the Harrows’ camp. I knew you placed it into the
hollow of the tree, and I took it.” He tips his chin. “Please. Take it.”

  I take it. I hold it in both of my hands like it’s a bird that might fly away.

  “I have not been honest with you,” he repeats, “and this is only the beginning. I have more to tell you. If you choose to hear me, stay. Be here tonight, and I will tell you all of it. Everything. If you’re gone, I won’t fault you. I’ve wronged you time and again. I only hope there’s still some forgiveness left in your heart for me.”

  He slips past me—but then stops and quickly brushes a kiss on my cheek. “Regardless of what you decide, thank you.”

  He leaves then, abandoning me to my thoughts. Maybe he thinks the solitude up here will help. The time to consider what he just told me. It won’t help.

  You’re too late, Rael.

  I don’t believe you anymore.

  I count to a hundred, and then head back inside. Down one flight of stairs, then another. Walking almost normally, despite my urge to flee this place immediately.

  I don’t see Rael anywhere in the house. I don’t see anyone—not even Rayna, who’s usually in the kitchen at this time, preparing the evening meal. It’s unusual, and makes me suspicious, but I don’t hesitate or slow down. I head right to the cellar door and heave it open, then plunge inside.

  Triumph and relief wing into my chest as I sprint through the corridor toward Gideon’s cell. My mind churns through my next steps.

  Escape through tunnels. Open portal. Go home.

  Turning the last corner, I race to his cell.

  It’s empty.

  He isn’t here.

  Despair hits me, savagely.

  Have I been abandoned? Did he leave me behind?

  Echoes of past pain roll through me. But it can’t be. Gideon would never.

  So … did Samrael somehow learn that I found Gideon down here? Has he taken Gideon somewhere else?

  Has he had Gideon killed?

  I don’t know what to think.

  I can’t think, with fear racing through my mind.

  I spin and run back through the corridors. Up to the kitchen. Through the foyer and outside. Churning my legs down the path that follows the creek. Running away from reality, from the miserable unreality of the Rift. I don’t stop until I’ve reached the pool where Rael and I came that first day when it rained.

  Tears sting my eyes as I look at the begonias. At how they surround me.

  It’s been me. I’ve created them.

  Suddenly I want more. Need more. An escape from the despair and loneliness.

  I reach for the water, finding it in my mind.

  The connection is so strong, so easy to achieve. Like hearing a musical note and adding my own, harmonizing. Then I’m leading the way and creating the melody.

  The surface of the water ripples and leaps to life in hundreds of thousands of droplets. They bind together, shaping into butterflies. Butterflies made of water, wings fluttering and shimmering like glass. I make them rise and soar, schooling like fish over the water; I lose myself in their beauty.

  Then I have an idea. I bring them together, combining them, and create Shadow—a crystal image of Shadow galloping over the water, her hooves kicking up splashes. I hear myself laugh. It’s effortless. Pure delight. Heady, to have so much power. Electrifying.

  I bring Shadow to me and reach out, feeling rippling water instead of her silky black coat.

  The limit of what I can do is a distant line. I’m nowhere close to it. I could turn this pond into almost anything I can imagine.

  But it’s not costless. Inside, I feel a darkening, like I’m losing part of myself. Now that I know this power, how will I ever unknow it?

  Suddenly, a fear hits me that I’ll need it. That I won’t be able to resist it.

  I make Shadow rear up, sending her front hooves high in the air.

  Beautiful, I think.

  Terrifying.

  CHAPTER 42

  GIDEON

  “Dusk, then?” Bas says.

  “The light will be to our best advantage,” Jode says. “With our horses, the long shadows and slanting rays will provide the best camouflage we’re likely to get. It might not make much difference. Then again, it might make all the difference. And if we get in and out quickly enough, we’ll have a good chance of avoiding the Harrows. It’s our best chance.” He looks at me.

  I nod. “Agreed.”

  Bas gives us the layout of Gray Fort, using a piece of charcoal to scratch the floor plan on one of the walls. He makes his best guesses as to where Daryn might be, and the orb. And he describes the single entry point through the wall—a gatehouse with a lone guard.

  “What’s inside?” I ask him. “We get through the wall, then what will we see?”

  “Orchards. Houses. Animal pens. Gardens. But no security. There’s nothing. I mean, the wall keeps the Harrows out. That’s all we ever worried about.”

  “Why would you worry if you were Samrael when every threat in this place is under your command?” Jode says.

  “Every threat until now,” Marcus says with quiet menace.

  I look from him to Jode, and then to Bas.

  There’s no time to absorb that we’re together, the four of us. But on some soul-deep level, I feel restored. Now I just need Daryn and a ticket out of this hellhole.

  We create a breaching plan and go over contingencies, reviewing everything a few times. By the time we’re prepared, there are still a couple of hours before it’s time to head out.

  Bas offers to take over on lookout in the loft so Jode can take a break. In five minutes, both Jode and Marcus have wedged themselves into empty corners of the room to grab some sleep. I doubt they’ll be very successful.

  Riot and the other horses have lined up, pressed close. They’re resting their heads on the horse beside them, kind of braided together that way. Also in the zone between being asleep and awake.

  I sit by the front door. Scratch my jaw. Draw my knees up. For a second, I just appreciate being out of the cell. Away from the bucket and the straw mat I lived with for days.

  I look at Riot. He’s here. He’s all right.

  We haven’t gotten out of the Rift yet, but we’ve had some victories.

  “I know you don’t want to hear regrets,” Bas says from above. “But I can’t stop thinking … how did I miss it? Why couldn’t I see what he really is?”

  I don’t know how to answer him. But I do know what it’s like to get fooled.

  “Do you know anything about the Gold Rush?” I ask him.

  Bas looks down from the loft. “The Gold Rush?” He looks back through the broken shutters. “Yeah. I auditioned for a Western once. I didn’t get it. But I learned about it a little. Gold miners. Prospecting. Everyone moving out West in search of riches.”

  “Yep. That’s about it. But, being from California, I had to learn a lot more. In third grade we spent a ton of time on it, learning all about the history. Then we went on a field trip to an old mining town to pan for gold.

  “Everybody was pumped up. We wanted to actually find gold. Real gold. We were nine, and believed anything was possible. Anyway, I must’ve panned for an hour under the hot sun, but it felt like I’d been there all day. I got nothing. Rocks. Dirt. I didn’t even get interesting trash like some of the other kids. I didn’t like that.

  “This kid in my class, Luke Miller. He was my best friend, so of course we competed at everything. Luke had pulled a rock from his pan that looked kind of shiny. Slightly shiny. But he was going around telling everyone he’d found the mother lode. And I had nothing, so. I got pretty mad.”

  Bas smiles, still looking outside.

  Marcus’s laugh is a quiet rumble. He already knows this story.

  “But then I went to the gift shop and things turned around for me. There, I saw that, for a mere five bucks, I could get a little glass jar full of gold shavings. I slapped my five bucks of spending money on the counter and walked away a much richer man. I thought I’d scored big ti
me. It seemed like such a good deal.

  “I ran right over to tell Luke that I was a better prospector than him. I was bragging right back at him, right. Just shamelessly gloating. He took the jar, turned it upside down, and showed me what it said on the bottom.

  “‘Made in China.’ He laughed and explained global commerce to me in this super condescending way. Like, how was it possible I hadn’t known any better?”

  Bas grins. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I stood by my counterfeit gold. I acted like I was proud of it. I told him it was better than his stupid rock. Then I went home and cried my heart out.”

  Bas laughs. “That’s so sad.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He still has the jar in his room,” Marcus says.

  I nod. “I do. Right on my dresser.”

  “You’ve kept it for ten years?” Jode asks.

  “I’d spent five bucks on it. Some of us don’t have jars of real gold sitting around.”

  Jode laughs. “Yes, that’s right. I keep my bars stacked by my bedside.”

  “Anyway, after I was done crying, I told my dad everything. He listened to my story, then he left the room and came back with gold cuff links. He gave one to me and said, ‘Here’s something that’s made of real gold. But one day you’ll realize that’s only a pretty piece of metal. Real gold is the value of truth. It’s friends you respect who respect you back. It’s what we have—you and me. That’s real gold.’

  “He was right. I had all the riches in the world when he was alive. And I still have the cuff link, too. One of them. The other one is buried with him.”

  It’s quiet for a long time. I want to keep talking, but there’s a rock lodged in my throat.

  Bas breaks the silence. “Okay, I get it. You’re saying I should look for real gold. Forget about Rael. Forget about the things that don’t have real value.”

  “No. I was just trying to pass the time by telling you my gold-mining story.”

  Bas laughs. “I want to see your Chinese gold someday, Gideon. And the cuff link.”

  “Sure.” I’ll give him the gold jar.

  If we make it out of here, it’s his.

  * * *

  We mount up an hour before sunset and ride to the gatehouse.

  Bas and I leave our horses with Jode and Marcus about a hundred yards back, and approach the rest of the way on foot.