“An engine,” he said grimly.
I tilted my head to the side, eyes narrowing as I, too, listened. It took me a moment, but my ears finally picked up the rumble over the whooshing of my breaths and the thud-thump of my racing heartbeat.
“How did you hear that?” I asked. The sound was so faint. There was no way he could have noticed it over the roar of our own engine.
“I saw the lights of a boat,” he said. “Coming out of Buck Bay.”
I turned, glancing back at the bay we’d passed barely a minute ago. “I don’t see anything.”
“I know, that’s what worries me,” he said. “The other boat turned its lights off . . .”
“Oh.” A chill crept up my spine. I could still hear the sound of another boat’s engine. And unless my ears were playing tricks on me, it was growing louder.
Raiden turned the key in the ignition, and the Argo roared to life. In seconds, we were hurtling through the night at top speed, the sound of our engine thunderous in my ears.
But it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the explosive crack that instinct told me could only be one thing.
I stared back in the direction of Buck Bay, fingers gripping the edge of the dash and eyes opened as wide as they could go. “Was that a gun?”
“Yeah,” Raiden said, taking a step back to make room for me at the helm. “Take the wheel.”
I did so without hesitation, splitting my attention between scanning the glimmering, inky water ahead and watching Raiden make his way to the stern. Having a task to focus on kept the mounting panic at bay.
Raiden drew a pistol that had been hidden somewhere inside his coat and planted a knee on the back bench, taking aim. For seconds, he held his position, steady against the drop and lurch of the boat as it raced over the water. Those seconds felt like an eternity.
Until, finally, the crack of not-so-far-off gunfire came again.
In an instant, Raiden adjusted his aim and fired. Three quick shots—pop, pop, pop. The sound was deafening.
I faced forward, opening my mouth wide in an attempt to clear the ringing from my ears. In the back of my mind, I thought I should probably have been freaking out right about now. But I wasn’t. I felt calm. Alert. Focused. All of my questions and concerns drifted into the background, and I was absolutely and completely present.
We were nearing Obstruction Pass, the narrow passageway between Obstruction Island and the southernmost tip of this half of Orcas Island.
I kept peeking over my shoulder, searching the darkness for some visible sign of the other boat, but it remained a phantom trailing behind us, the only evidence of its existence the periodic crack of gunfire. Each shot was a little louder than the last. Our pursuers were gaining on us, and I ducked a little lower with each successive shot fired our way.
And then, between one heartbeat and the next, I could see the boat. It appeared ghostly in the darkness, a mere trick of the eye. But it grew clearer and clearer as it closed the distance to the Argo.
“A waste of ammunition,” Raiden said over the roar of the engine, returning to the helm. “At least they know we’re armed. Should keep them from getting too close.”
I nodded, like I had any clue about shootout tactics, and moved out of the way, letting Raiden retake the helm. I pointed to a dark land mass up ahead. It was Deer Point, a shallow, rocky section of Orcas Island’s shore, relatively hazardous for a boat if one didn’t know to avoid it. A hail-Mary plan was forming in my mind. I didn’t know where it had come from. It was like someone else was feeding me the idea.
“What if we drove them into the rocks?” I said, voice raised and heart hammering.
I couldn’t make out Raiden’s expression clearly, but I could see well enough in the moonlight to tell that he was frowning.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I ducked, my grip on the stabilizing bar white-knuckled. The leather of my gloves creaked against the metal. “What other options do we have?” I shouted.
Raiden didn’t reply with any bright ideas, but he also didn’t seem convinced.
But then, he couldn’t see the plan that had formed in my mind. Even if he could’ve seen it, he probably would’ve given it a big thumbs down. It sounded crazy, even to me. But the urge to try was growing within me, becoming overwhelming. It was like my brain had switched over to believing I was in the virtual world and this was all a game. The constant fear I lived with every day evaporated, leaving me feeling strong and capable. Or, at least, stupidly brave.
“I have a plan. Just get us close to Deer Point,” I told Raiden. “Trust me.”
He stared at me for a long moment. Then, surprising the hell out of me, he nodded.
Adrenaline surged within my veins, making my heart beat even faster and my senses sharpen. I was really going to do this.
Trying not to stumble, I made my way back to the stern. I dropped down on one knee by the bags, shifting them out of the way so I could reach the fishing gear underneath. I leaned back a little, counterbalancing as Raiden steered the boat toward Deer Point. After a moment of searching, I plucked Emi’s four-pronged fishing spear out of the jumble of gear and regained my feet.
“What’s the plan?” Raiden called from the helm.
I glanced up, noting that we were heading almost straight for the deadly rocks lurking beneath the water at Deer Point, then looked back at Raiden and gave him a thumbs up. I could hardly tell him I didn’t really know what I was doing, just that something within me was driving me to take action. It almost felt like I was being possessed by some other entity, like I wasn’t even in control.
I shed my bulky parka, dropping it on the deck near our bags, then lifted my left boot onto the bench seat and focused on the boat trailing us.
It had altered its course as well and was maybe forty yards back and closing in fast—way too close for comfort. It would be on us in minutes.
I counted four silhouettes, dark and menacing in the moonlight. No matter how easily Raiden had taken out the two intruders trying to get into my bedroom, I didn’t think the odds would be in our favor should this vessel overtake us out here on the water.
Compelled by some internal driving force, I hoisted the fishing spear up over my shoulder, holding it in my right hand like I’d seen Olympic athletes do with javelins in the summer games. I was grateful for my gloves; the leather made my grip solid, unhindered by my sweaty palms. I extended my left arm out before me, pointing at the other boat.
The frigid sea air whipped and snapped the fabric of my T-shirt, biting into my flesh. I ignored the sting and honed in on the shadowy outline of the driver, barely twenty yards away. I aimed for him, and waited. We were still a little too far from Deer Point. I wouldn’t get more than one shot at this. I just had to wait a few more seconds—
Another gunshot cracked through the night. I felt the bullet whiz past my neck, searing my skin as it rustled the tiny, misbehaving hairs that had snuck free from my ponytail. I felt it, but I didn’t flinch. Inside, I was screaming. Outside, I was calm personified.
I focused. I drew in a deep breath. And on my exhale, I launched the spear.
It vanished from sight almost the instant it left my fingertips, swallowed up by the night.
Two more gunshots were fired our way.
The sound shattered my calm, and this time, I ducked. I dropped down to the deck on hands and knees, barely peeking over the stern of the boat.
Without warning, Raiden spun the wheel sharply to the right, jerking the Argo’s bow away from the rapidly approaching shore. The stern skittered out, hopping over our own wake, and I lost my balance, falling onto my hip.
By the time I regained my knees and was looking out at the other boat again, the driver was nowhere to be seen. The three other occupants scrambled for the helm as their boat rocketed toward the rocky shore.
The other boat turned sharply, veering away from the underwater hazard.
I crossed my fingers and held my breath, hoping their course correction had co
me too late.
Seconds later, the other boat exploded into a ball of fire, like something straight out of a blockbuster movie.
Reflexively, I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the brilliant glow. I stared for a moment longer, then turned and sat on the deck of the boat, completely stunned. It had worked. My crazy, stupidly brave plan had worked. I’d done it.
I felt the boat turn slightly, then slow as Raiden set us on a course to pass safely through Rosario Strait, between Blakely and Cypress Islands.
A moment later, Raiden abandoned the helm to make his way to the stern. He crouched before me, planting one knee on the deck and handing me my discarded coat. “How the hell did you do that?”
“I . . .” I shook my head, looking at him but not really seeing him, and hugged the coat to my chest. The shock was back, and it had returned with a vengeance.
How had I done it?
I swallowed roughly, then confessed the truth. “I don’t know.”
11
By the time we reached the mainland and docked the boat at the Anacortes Marina, I was chilled to the bone. It didn’t matter that I’d been nice and bundled up for the majority of the hour-long boat trip. My cheeks were numb from the frigid sea spray, and my nose felt like a snotsicle. With his stiff shoulders and reddened face, Raiden didn’t look like he was faring much better.
We tied off the boat in silence, moving robotically. We both wanted to get out of the damp, early morning chill and into the warmth of the waiting car that was always parked in the marina’s parking lot. Our boat slip was covered by a corrugated metal roof, so we left the Argo’s canvas cover off and, hoisting the straps of our bags onto our shoulders, hightailed it to the car.
Since I first discovered the secret passage in Blackthorn Manor, events had been pushing me deeper and deeper into a state of shock. Now, I was in a daze.
I thought I should’ve felt something—anything—after causing the other boat to crash. Nobody could have survived that explosion. And I had made it happen. I had killed people. Just hours after watching Raiden do the same in my home. In my bedroom. I should’ve felt horror or guilt or remorse. I should have felt something. But I didn’t.
Remotely, I wondered if that made me just a little bit of a psychopath—and was that even possible, to be a little bit of a psychopath, or was psychopathy an all-or-nothing deal? Regardless, even considering that possibility should have frightened me. There were so many feelings I should have been having, but in their place, I felt a whole lot of nothing.
I told myself the combination of the drop in adrenaline after such an extreme rush and the cold sea air must have muddled my mind. Not much emotion was getting through at the moment. That had to be it.
As we passed through the security gate leading from the dock to the parking lot, I gave myself ninety-to-ten odds of falling asleep within ten minutes of being on the road. I’d always been a motion sleeper, and in my current state, I was in prime condition to zonk right out. At least then I wouldn’t have to think about why I wasn’t feeling anything anymore.
The car, a slate-gray Lexus sedan, was parked right where it was supposed to be, in spot number eighteen. The parking spot came with the boat slip, and as such, shared the same number.
We tossed our bags into the trunk of the sedan, then climbed into the car, Raiden driving and me in the passenger seat. I didn’t technically know how to drive a car, so the arrangement was pretty much a given. Virtual driving didn’t count. And at the moment, I was grateful for my vehicular inadequacy.
I fiddled with the car’s climate control system while Raiden guided us onto the main drag cutting through the flat, sprawling marina town. Once the heated seats were warmed up, the air from the vents was nice and toasty, and we were pulling onto the highway, I settled back into my seat and stared out the window. I could already feel my heavy eyelids drifting shut.
“How are you doing, Cora?” Raiden asked, cutting through a few layers of the sleepy haze settling over me.
Blinking, I turned my head without lifting it from the headrest and looked at him.
His profile was strong, his expression stoic. Until he glanced at me, and I spotted the concern wrinkling his brow and intensifying his stare.
“I don’t know. I feel . . .” I shrugged, then frowned, picking at a hangnail on my thumb. How could I tell him I felt nothing? “I don’t know,” I repeated. “Is that weird?”
Raiden grunted softly. “Nah. You’ve been through a lot. ‘I don’t know’ sounds just about right.” After a moment, he added. “But it won’t last, Cora, so let me know when ‘I don’t know’ turns into something else, okay?”
I looked down at my hands and nodded. I was an expert at hiding my feelings, a skill born of not wanting my pain and loneliness to infect those around me. Raiden had always been the one person who could get me to open up. But he’d been gone for nearly a decade, and his visits home had been few and far between, his phone calls—to me, at least—dwindling from weekly to almost nonexistent after that visit. The one I didn’t like to think about. After everything, I wasn’t sure our connection remained intact.
“You might as well get some rest,” Raiden said. “We’ll be driving for a while.”
Again, I nodded. I lodged my elbow on the armrest jutting out of the door and rested my cheek on my palm. “Where are we headed, anyway?”
If it was anybody other than him behind the wheel—or my mom or Emi—I would have been a lot more diligent about figuring out where I was being taken. But no matter the distance that had developed between us over the past decade, Raiden was still Raiden. Still the boy I’d grown up with. If I couldn’t put my life in his hands, what was the point of living at all?
“To a safe house in Seattle,” he told me.
Mention of the “big city” made my heart skip a beat—not in a good way. Seattle was so ginormous, with such tall buildings blocking so much of the sky and so many people rushing about. It was a lot—too much for a recluse like me. At least my beloved Puget Sound would be nearby; I hoped that would help to ease the choking agoraphobia and claustrophobia I could already feel chipping away at the numbing cocoon of shock.
Even with the promise of Seattle lurking ahead, within minutes, the motion of the car combatted the mounting tension and lulled me back into a sleepy daze. Eyelids droopy, I stared out the window. Sleep was so close I could taste it.
I barely registered the word “NORTH” on the sign hanging over the I-5 on-ramp as we made our way onto the freeway. Seattle was south of Anacortes by a solid eighty miles. Confusion disrupted the lure of sleep and some clarity returned to my mind.
Lazily, I turned my head toward Raiden. “We’re going north?”
“Just covering our trail,” he said, not taking his eyes from the road.
I stared at him for a few seconds longer, but when it was clear that he didn’t intend to explain further, I frowned and returned to looking out the window. I was too tired to think, and too numb to care much at all.
Within seconds, my eyelids were drooping. Within minutes, I was out.
12
The next time I opened my eyes, Raiden was pulling our car into a parking spot in a moderately crowded lot. The sky was starting to lighten, though the sun had yet to peek over the hills. A quick glance at the dash told me forty minutes had passed since I’d last looked at the clock.
Sitting up straighter, I blinked and looked around; the parking lot was enormous. At the sound of a muffled roar, I leaned closer to the windshield and looked up into the sky. An airplane was flying close overhead, nose angled upward as it climbed ever higher. It was a hell of a lot bigger than the seaplanes I was used to seeing.
I cast another quick look around, my mind finally making sense of things. We were in an airport parking lot.
I turned my attention to Raiden. “Are we flying to Seattle?” I’d never been to an airport before, let alone ridden on a plane—at least, not in real life—and my stomach knotted at the prospect.
&
nbsp; Raiden pulled the keys from the ignition and shook his head. “Just exchanging cars so we’re harder to follow.” He offered me a tight smile. His usually warm, brown irises had dulled and darkened, and his eyelids were rimmed with red. He looked as exhausted as I felt, his tired eyes lingering on my face. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward his door. He pushed the door open and climbed out of the car.
After a few seconds, I followed.
Toting our bags, we left the Lexus behind and crossed the lot, heading for a long building at the far edge of the mass of parked cars. We passed a sign proclaiming BELLINGHAM INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. So, we were in Bellingham.
I glanced up at the sky once more, noting the position of the soon-to-be-rising sun over my left shoulder, and reoriented where I was on the map in my head.
I followed Raiden into the airport through a set of huge sliding glass doors, eyes opened wide and taking in everything. He made an immediate left once we were inside, veering away from the ticket counters—I recognized them from the movies—and heading for the car rental kiosks instead.
“Wait here,” he said, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor by a string of four interconnected chairs that had been bolted to the ground.
I placed my duffel bag beside his and sat, holding my backpack on my lap and hugging it to my chest. All of my most important possessions were in there. Strangely enough, the most valuable to me were things that hadn’t been in my possession twenty-four hours earlier—the strange orb and my mom’s journal.
I looked around, eyes taking in everything. It was all new to me. There were so many people. So many threats to my sanity. I felt small and too big at the same time. Like everyone was staring at me. Like I didn’t belong.
I wished I had my phone, so I could pull it out and hide within a game. But that wasn’t an option, right now. I’d left my phone behind, as directed by Raiden. Apparently, it was too much of a tracking risk. So, as I waited, hugging my backpack more tightly, I watched the activity all around me.
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