I see a glimpse of Ezra ahead of me aligning his body so he can walk out of the Rift. Levi is to my right. I cannot see his face. I can’t signal to him to prepare. I can’t tell him to get ready. Then again, I probably don’t have to. The Faida angles our bodies upward. We are face-first instead of headfirst. This Earth has me in its clutches. In this space of a few heartbeats my feet will be on solid ground.
I brace myself for the atmospheric change in pressure and my ears pop a little when we emerge. I don’t know what to expect. Adrenaline is pluming like ink through my bloodstream. The Faida who held me lets go. I don’t know where we are or when we are, but there is nothing here but a wide-open glade surrounded by tall evergreens. I put my hands on my pistols. I’m ready to draw. I’m also ready to listen, but none of that happens. The entire squadron of Faida, without warning or explanation, explode into the air like winged rockets.
What the fuck?
The unconscious Spiradael is splayed out at my feet, and when I look over to Ezra and Levi, they seem as baffled as I am. I crane my neck up to the sky and cup my hand over my eyes to watch them. They are flying in formation, like birds. It’s hypnotic, this aerial dance. A murder of crows, a watch of nightingales, an affliction of starlings—what would a group of Faida be called? A clamor? A flush? A lamentation?
They break off in threes and fours, flying in each direction until some of them disappear.
“Are they coming back?” Ezra asks hesitantly.
“Yes,” Levi says in an aggravated tone. “I think they’re just trying to prove a point.”
I watch them circle and dip and then regroup. “No. I mean, that might be part of it, but they’re scouting. It’s no different from sending out drones, really.”
“Except that drones are expendable,” Levi points out.
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s how the altered Roones see the Faida.” I keep my gaze skyward, at the cloudless blue expanse. They’re coming back.
“What do you think is going on, Ryn?” Levi asks. “Why were they there? Why did you have to open a Rift?” He asks calmly, but there is a dangerous edge to his voice. Levi is a brilliant strategist, but he needs to know where he is and what’s going on to make a plan.
Like I said, though: I’m great at improvising.
I watch them land so hard it seems as if the Earth might crack open and swallow them whole. They start to run at us. “I think speculating is a waste of energy,” I respond as I keep my eyes fixed as they move toward us. I don’t think Levi and I can take on this many. If Ezra were a Citadel we’d have a decent shot, but the fact that they can fly will make fighting them hand to hand extremely difficult. All it would take is for one of them isolate us. Just one to pull us into the air and take us so high that the landing would be lethal.
I reach for my gun, because shooting as many of them as possible before they can get near us is the smartest move here, but instead of attacking, they surround us in a circle and keep their backs to us.
“Human children!” the one who had me, the one who must be the leader, screams. “Prepare to defend yourselves.”
“Well—yeah, okay. But I usually don’t just shoot people in the back . . . maybe just turn around so this won’t feel like a complete massacre.”
The leader does whip his head back to give me a look that I can only interpret as complete annoyance. “You don’t have to defend yourselves against us! Why would we kill you after we just saved you from the Spiradael filth?”
“Well, technically, we opened the Rift, so maybe we were saving you.”
“Human girl child, there is something coming. Many, many coming things. They are large and they are fast. They have teeth. We have clearly encroached on their territory and I believe they mean to defend it.”
I look past them, into the dense crop of trees beyond. I don’t see anything yet, but I do hear something, a rumbling, feet on dirt, branches snapping.
“Describe the threat,” Levi demands.
“What is it? What’s happening? Why are they surrounding us like this?” Ezra asks in a rush.
“Just get your weapons out and be ready to shoot. The Faida saw something, from the air.” Ezra’s eyes widen. I can hear his heartbeat, which was already going pretty strong, get even faster.
“They are very tall,” another Faida answers. “At least eight feet, and round shaped. Their flesh is a milky pink. Their ears are pointed and their noses are flat and circular. They do not have weapons, but they have claws.”
I scratch the top of my head. I wonder briefly if the Faida are fucking with us, but I don’t think they have it in them. “Uhhh, like a pig?”
“I do not know this word, ‘pig.’ You have faced this enemy before?” the leader asks brusquely.
“On a sandwich with lettuce and tomato, yeah.”
He turns around now, to face me. “You are telling me that the humans eat these creatures? They are for hunting?”
“Well, not every human eats pork. Sometimes it’s a religious choice. I do like bacon, though,” I say, but I let myself trail off, because now I can hear them. And they are loud. It’s not just movement; they are actually squealing. The sound is unsettling, like backward screaming. “Well, okay, I think maybe on this Earth the pigs are a little different. They’re domesticated back home. We raise them on farms. They’re animals. They walk on all fours.”
“Are we being attacked by giant pigs?” Ezra asks, eyeing the tree line.
“These pigs run on two cloven hooves,” the leader says. “And I believe if there is to be consumption, it would be us that would be eaten.”
“How many?” Levi asks.
“Hundreds.”
“Look,” I say to the leader. “I appreciate the circle of friendship here, but you don’t need to protect us. Let’s spread out. Half your squadron can take to the air and act as snipers. You do have ammo, right?”
“Some, not a lot.”
Shit.
In one thunderous boom the pigs break through the trees. They do not look like Babe. They are not cute. They are huge, lumbering animals with tusks that curl over very sharp teeth. I don’t know that much about pigs except that they taste good, and that in the movies, if you want to get rid of a body, you can throw it in a sty and they will eat the whole thing. Bones and all.
Shit.
I probably should not have made the sandwich joke.
The Faida break formation and some do indeed begin to soar. I feel better knowing they can shoot these things from the air. But the scout was right—there are hundreds. I don’t think we even have enough bullets to kill them all. This is not going to be fun. Or it could be very fun depending on how they fight.
“Human girl child,” the leader announces stoically, “I have heard that the Citadels on your Earth are the Roones’ greatest achievement. I hope that was not an exaggeration. We will defend you and you will defend us. We will fight together and let this battle cement our alliance. And after we have tasted victory, there will be much to discuss. Are you ready?”
The pigs are running full-out now, the ground shaking at their approach. The truth is, I trust the Faida about as much as I trust the pink monsters (who have ruined Charlotte’s Web forever now, thanks) that want to rip us apart. The squealing is overwhelming, a dissonant symphony of wind instruments being blown into by middle-schoolers. But I am getting better now at turning down the sounds that undo me. I will fight these things, and after, I’ll get to the question of the Faida. The altered Roones have broken us all in one way or another. I’ll have to see where the Faida have cracked and how deep those cuts run before I can ever trust them.
The familiar wave of adrenaline begins to crest in my bloodstream. It builds with towering ferocity until it breaks, washing over every pulsing muscle and joint. I want this. I’m aching for this. An enemy who doesn’t need anything from me besides my death. A battle without an agenda. ARC, the Roones, the Faida, Ezra, Levi—all of it, all of them and their noise and their half-truths and manipulati
ons—can just go away. I don’t need to be anyone here other than a soldier. Screw politics. Diplomacy doesn’t make my skin tingle. It doesn’t make me feel this alive. The future can wait. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever win that war. But this one?
This is a battle I can win.
Shots begin to ring out and I draw my pistols. I’m ready. I was, after all, made for this very thing.
“Let’s do this.” I take aim. I pull the trigger.
I fight.
Acknowledgments
Writing The Rift Uprising was a fairly solitary affair. I had an idea and I got to work. This book, however, was a totally different experience. There was no wondering if this book would ever get published or who might read it. I knew where The Rift Frequency was headed and because of that, I needed to rely on many people who have become integral to the process of delivering a trilogy.
First off, there is my agent and partner in crime, Yfat Reiss Gendell. Thank you for being an amazing agent, but also for being a true friend. You always said you could get me here. You must be some kind of fortune-teller because it took years! And it didn’t seem like it was ever going to happen, but you stuck by me, and I am so grateful. Jessica Felleman, your right-hand lady, has become my right-hand lady, too! Jessica, thank you for all your patience through my Chicken Little moments! You’re the best. And, Richie Kern—thank you for bringing Hollywood to the table. Also at Foundry I’d like to give a shout-out to Kirsten Neuhaus and Heidi Gall in the foreign rights department. The contract peeps—Deirdre Smerillo, Melissa Moorehead, and Hayley Burdett—and the money guys: Sara DeNobrega, Alex Rice, and Colette Grecco.
At HarperCollins I really need to thank my incredible editor, David Pomerico, who took a huge chance on Ryn and her world. You’re the only other person who knows it as well as I do. You made this book better. Thank you. I would also like to thank Priyanka Krishnan, Jessie Edwards, Shawn Nicholls, Angela Craft, Liate Stehlik, and Jeanne Reina for all their hard work in getting the Rift out there to the people.
Elena Stokes and Brianna Robinson at Wunderkind PR, you genius gals, you are fabulous at your jobs and I know we have a lot of work to do still. I’m looking forward to it all. Marni Wadner, Kelly Ann Collins, and Mary Thayer at Sneak Attack Media, because of you all, I’m verified on social media, which turned me into an actual cool mom! But more than that, you opened up a whole new world for me and it’s been a game changer. Thanks so much. I’d also like to give a shout-out to Section 101 for the kick-ass website.
On a personal note I would like to thank my mom and my dad and my sisters. I love you all. I would also like to thank my friends in Portland and Nashville. I know I’m a bit of a hermit, but you all keep me connected to the world—which I really need. In particular I’d like to thank Lisa Rockower—the best friend and beta reader a girl could ask for. Claire Coffee, who narrated The Rift Uprising (thirty hours reading a book out loud—that’s real friendship); Melissa Sher, an excellent friend and PDX PR lady; and Samantha Brickman, who has been an absolute rock and rock star. Sammy, you know what you’ve done—thank you. I’d also like to give a shout-out once again to Elaine Lui, who hooked me up in Canada and who is pretty much the best advice giver. Ever. Sam Maggs, you brilliant lil munchkin—we got plans.
On the musical side I want to thank Stephanie Cox, who is an awesome all-around mama bear. Your faith in me keeps me going. Jesse Willoughby, Chris Lakey, Derek Anderson, and everyone at Kobalt, who helped me create a sound track and gave me a record deal, really, so that I could put out songs that I wrote for this series. On that note (ha!) Micah Wilshire, you musical monster. I love every minute I’m in the studio with you. QOINS forever.
I would also like to thank Dr. Daniel Barton for such steadfast navigation, Lt. Col. Matt Fandre of the 101st for the military technical advice, and for being such a cool guy. I would also like to thank Kim Newport Mimram of Pink Tartan for the support (and the amazing clothes) and Heather Reisman for the sage council.
Finally, I would like to thank my incredibly brave and smart and funny and gorgeous firefighting husband, Matt Freeman, who sends me on my way to my office/condo once a week for my own twenty-four-hour shift so that I can have a full day of uninterrupted writing—I love you. And my kids, Mikaela, Eva, and Vaughn—thank you for being patient with all of this. You are all special, funny, brilliant, and beautiful. I adore you. Always.
About the Author
Amy S. Foster is a celebrated and award-winning songwriter, best known as Michael Bublé’s writing partner, and has collaborated with Beyoncé, Diana Krall, Andrea Bocelli, Josh Groban, and a host of other artists. She is also the author of When Autumn Leaves. When she’s not in a studio in Nashville, she lives in the Pacific Northwest with her family.
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Also by Amy S. Foster
The Rift Uprising Trilogy
The Rift Uprising
The Rift Frequency
When Autumn Leaves
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
the rift frequency. Copyright © 2017 by Amy S. Foster. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Harper Voyager and design are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers LLC.
first edition
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Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Digital Edition OCTOBER 2017 ISBN: 978-0-06-244322-9
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-244318-2
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