The Archer: Arrow's Flight Book # 2

by Casey Hays

  “Sorry about them. They can be a bit intense.”

  She unhooks her belt with the sword still intact and lays it near the edge of the blanket. I can’t help but wonder what she hunts with it. A sword seems an odd gaming weapon. She proceeds to remove her shoes. I settle onto a corner of the blanket to unlace my own.

  “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  “Sure.” She smiles with Justin’s smile.

  “Justin is your cousin,” I confirm, and she nods.

  “Yep.His dad is my dad’s brother. But just keep in mind I’m eight months older, which means I’m eight months smarter.” She clicks her tongue teasingly.

  I smile and work the braid out of my hair, and it falls over me like a protective covering.

  “I’m sorry your friend couldn’t come,” Liza says. My eyes darken, and I sink somewhere inside.

  “So am I. She’s . . . having a difficult time of it.”

  Diana whole-heartedly refused to come with me, her eyes barely skimming over me before she turned away to huddle on a sleeping bag in the corner. She wrapped her arms protectively around her belly and held still until I left her.

  “I’m sure she is.” Liza pins me with her dark eyes. “Justin told me . . . about her baby.”

  I forget to breathe.

  “He also told me you two aren’t really from Eden.” She waves all ten fingers in the air dramatically, her eyes widening. “Big surprise there.”

  I say nothing, but Liza senses my uneasiness. She peels her shirt down to her undergarment.

  “Look, I don’t really care who Ian’s with. Insider, Outsider. Whatever. It’s not typical, but it’s none of my business. And you seem cool. So we’ll leave it at that.”

  I raise my head. “Thank you, I suppose?”

  “Yes,” she laughs. “It’s definitely a compliment. And since Justin asked me not to ask you any personal questions, I won’t.”

  She nods her head once in conclusion and leaps to her feet to shimmy out of her pants. I have no time to avert my eyes before she’s standing naked before me, her body toned with tight muscles that shimmer in the dim light. I catch a quick glimpse of her tattoo, twisting with its roses, before she turns, takes a running leap, and crashes into the water. I stand, see her emerge.

  “Whoa! It’s freezing!” She laughs and leans her head backwards to submerge once more. “Come on, Kate!”

  I shed my clothes and tiptoe to the edge of the bank. Under the moonlight, I see her teeth. They chatter like white stones preparing for an avalanche. Cautiously, I slide down to the water and dip in a toe. A cold shock rattles through me, and I feel the future of my own chattering before it’s begun.

  “Come on,” she urges. “It’s not so bad once you’re in. Just jump.”

  I hesitate, raise my eyes to the sparkling stars above. And there he is: The Archer. He leers at me in the absence of storms. For a brief moment, as the river laps up over my feet, paralyzing my toes with its cold water, I feel panic. But then, my mind suddenly spins into a relay of all the events leading up to this moment in my life. Liza floats on her back, eyes closed. The Archer still sparkles above me. He still leers with his bow ready to strike me down. I smile.

  Then . . . I jump.

  Chapter 32

  Justin is waiting on the porch when we return. He does not look pleased.

  “You went to the river? Alone?” He stands as we approach, addressing Liza, but I know the look in his eye. It’s completely for me.

  “We weren’t alone.” Liza drapes her arm around my shoulders. “We had each other. And them.” She tosses her head in the direction of the other girls who lounge around the fire warming their bodies after the cold swim. “Besides, Ian sent her with us.”

  Justin frowns, frustration over Ian’s decision sketching itself into his expression.

  “It’s dangerous, Liza.” His words are marked with caution. “I mean, come on. Someone is sporting Eden-killers out there, and you’re pulling stuff like this? Use your head.”

  “We were safe, Justin. We’re miles from our river, and the danger’s on the other side of it.”

  “You don’t know that. If you crossed over, and I crossed over, anyone can cross over.” His eyes flit toward me. He isn’t thinking about an army across the river. I see the Set-Typhon in his thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, Justin,” I say quickly, pulling away from Liza and climbing up the steps to the door. “You’re right.”

  “Wait a minute.” Liza places her hands on her hips. “We were safe, Kate. We made it back in one piece, didn’t we?”

  “Liza, can I talk to you?” Justin takes her elbow and roughly steers her away from the porch amid her protests.

  I leave them to their arguing and slip inside. My actions didn’t display it, but in my mind, I side with Liza. We did come back unharmed. And my skin thanks me for the cold bath.

  But outwardly, my loyalty lies with Justin.

  I check on Diana. She sleeps soundly in one of the bedrooms, curled up on her side in a bed that slants slightly toward the floor on one side. Her soft, rhythmic breathing coming in small puffs from inside the sleeping bag. I sigh and turn away from her.

  One of the boys has built a fire in the main room. I move toward it, taking in its warmth. My hair hangs loose and wet down my back, soaking my blouse, and I allow it to slip down off my shoulders, turning my body to dry it in the heat. It is welcome after the cold river that jolted me the moment I plunged into it. I gather my hair over one shoulder and squeeze the excess water, working out the tangles that plague it every time. A puddle forms at my feet.

  The door clicks open quietly, and I cast a glance over my shoulder. I expect to see Justin, but my eyes take in Ian. He halts there in the doorway, unblinking. My back is to him, but my loose blouse has fallen to my waist, revealing the deep scars embedded in my flesh. He has never fully seen them, and I suddenly feel exposed and vulnerable. And I can only imagine how they appear in the flickering light of the fire.

  We stare at each other, for an eternity it seems, before I take a grip on my senses and work to shrug the blouse back into place. But Ian’s voice stops me.

  “No. Don’t.”

  I hold still; the material slips off one shoulder to slither down my arm. Ian closes the door.

  I face the fire, not daring to look at him as the sound of his feet moves closer. And then I feel his touch—a soft finger tracing the length of one scar. I swallow.

  “They’re ugly,” I whisper, wanting more than anything to cover them quickly. His finger lingers a moment, and then he presses the entire palm of his warm hand against my back.

  “They’re not,” he whispers. “Because they’re a part of you, and there is nothing ugly about you. Nothing.”

  I gather the blouse up to my chest and face him, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, and simply looks at me. And it is enough.

  We wait three more days. The rains have followed us here after so many days without them, and they pummel the streets until they are flooded so heavily that the water climbs the steps of our porch and seeps in under the door. And soon, there are no more fires. Everything in the world drips incessantly.

  Those of the expedition team who plan to go with us become restless, as do Ian and Justin, and their restlessness carries over to me. I stand at the window counting the squiggly lines of water that run down the glass one by one. Soon, our roof begins to leak in various places, and we are miserable.

  The gloominess of the weather does nothing for Diana’s demeanor. It also does nothing to mend our differences.

  On the fourth day, we wake to sunshine spraying morning rays across the land, and the mood of the entire group lifts. Standing water hides the streets, and when Ian steps out to measure it, it comes far past his knees, but this doesn’t deter any of them. Jeb stands next to Ian on the porch and assesses the situation while the others mill around in anticipation.

  “We all know how to swim.” He tugs on his long beard. “We’ve wasted enough
time here.” He frowns before adding, “It’s true we fled, and I’m somewhat ashamed of that. But we would be no good to Eden dead, now would we? We would be no good to our families if we hadn’t escaped those planes. Albert is no good to them, and neither is Ginny.” He pauses for a moment, giving the dead their respect. “But now, we’ve had time to reevaluate our situation. We’ve had time to think through what we are facing over there. And now, we won’t be surprised by what we find.”

  I hope he’s correct.

  “I say once we reach some higher ground, we send scouts ahead to assess our situation.”

  This suggestion comes from the man with the spear. The man I first saw with Liza. His spear leans in the crook of his arm. His eyes are the same piercing blue as Ian’s, and a dark shadow of hair forms along his jaw line.

  “I agree, Luke.” Jeb faces us. “As soon as the waters recede a bit more, we’ll head out.”

  My stomach lurches as I survey the deepness of the waters. I cannot swim, but have no power to persuade these giants. I slip my hand into Ian’s. He gives it a comforting squeeze.

  The women will remain behind along with two men chosen by Jeb. But Liza refuses to stay, insisting that she will go with her cousin, the only family she knows to be alive. Nobody argues with her, and Justin seems relieved.

  The standing waters are quiet and unmoving, and when they fail to dry up as quickly as Jeb hoped, he decides we will go regardless. We wade through the flooded streets, and for much of it, I must rely on Ian to keep me above the waters. There are areas where it is much higher—coming to Ian’s waist and full of obstacles that we bump into as we go. I’m grateful when we reach an incline on the outskirts of town that gives some relief. Here the waters have thinned out considerably, and I can wade through the knee high muck on my own.

  “It will only take us a day to walk through the forest once we reach it,” Ian insists. “It’s the plains that will be dangerous.”

  “Why?” I ask him.

  “Because they’re wide open. No cover. No way to hide from a plane if we see one. No way to escape an enemy.” He smiles, and adds. “But that’s where my speed comes in handy. We’ll be safe.”

  I swallow. “Just . . . please, let’s not leave Diana behind. Make sure Justin can keep up with us.”

  He bites his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll do my best.”

  As Ian predicted, it takes one day to get through the forest once we reach it. We stop briefly to eat. The forest grows darker and denser as night creeps closer, and I shiver in the cool air. I am more than grateful when we see the edge of the tree line, the setting sun breaking through the branches to greet us.

  Ian and Justin set up our tents side by side under the trees.

  “We’ve decided to cross the plains tomorrow at nightfall,” Ian tells me before he and Justin leave to gather firewood. “Safer to travel in the dark.”

  The expedition team settles along the edge of the forest, setting up tents, rummaging through packs, readying firewood. I see Luke at the end of the row. He thrusts the tip of his spear into the ground where it stays unmoving and turns his attention to assembling a tent. Beside him, Liza sits on a large rock, sharpening one edge of her sword with some kind of tool. He says something to her, she nods without looking up.

  I sit with Diana in front of our tent. She is quiet, staring off across the plains that seem to spread before us with no end in sight. It’s strange to see no river winding through the terrain, and it frightens me a little to have no water nearby. The sun begins to set, shooting its rays in our eyes, and everything across the flat grasslands turns yellow.

  “Ian says the plains are beautiful at night,” I say to Diana. Her eyes remain glued to the yellow scenery, but I keep talking. “The moon will be brighter than ever with nothing to block its light. Won’t that be something to see?”

  She doesn’t respond. I frown.

  “Diana—”

  I stop my mouth, hesitating on the precipice of spilling my feelings over the both of us in a messy disaster. But I’m weary of her iciness, and I feel as though I face a final chapter all alone. No one else can understand what fears race through my blood at the prospect of stepping out into the open . . . in full view of the stars. No one but her. I cannot fathom an army of a thousand or the sound of a plane roaring overhead, and in this, we share a common bond. And I do not want to go forward without her forgiveness.

  I look at her. “How long do you intend to stay angry with me?”

  She stares ahead. “As long as I’m angry.”

  I sigh. “And how long with that be?”

  She turns away from me.

  “Diana, I am sorry that I didn’t tell you about Jordan. I did plan to, but you had other worries. I thought it best not to add another.”

  “You thought it best.” She looks at me full-force. “You came to your own conclusion about my well-being.”

  “I meant you no harm by it. I was only thinking of you.”

  She smiles—a weak, sad gesture—and she shakes her head. “And what of Tabitha? Were you thinking of her, too?”

  My mouth falls open slightly at her implication. “Of course. I thought of her constantly.”

  “Did you? Because if you had, you would not have let me give her to Ian. You would have stopped me. And Justin!” She spits his name like a poison. “He forced me to give her up with all his promises that his father would save her!”

  I pause, digesting her words. Her grief makes her unreasonable, and she sees nothing but malice in our actions.

  “Tabitha was sick. Very sick.” My voice rings with as soothing a tone as I can muster as I try to reason with her. “True, they were not able to save her. And if they could not, she would have been no better off here with us. She would have died in your arms in a matter of days. And neither one of us could have stopped it.”

  “Yes. She was sick,” Diana grits her teeth. “With the toxins of Eden. Who am I supposed to blame for that?”

  I have no words. She’s right even if she doesn’t realize the magnitude of what she says. Eden killed her daughter with its negligence. She stares at me for what seems to be a full minute. And then her tears spill over, racing in long streaks down both cheeks. I tentatively raise my arm and attempt to slide it around her shoulders, but she stiffens and abruptly pushes me away. Wiping at her eyes she stands as quickly as she can.

  “No.” She says forcefully, a choked gasp rising from her throat. Her eyes fall on me briefly, and she turns and tromps away. She doesn’t get far before her sobs get the better of her, and she slumps beneath a tree to cry herself out.

  I bite my bottom lip as hard as I can to stop my own tears. And once again, I do my best to convince myself that Diana simply needs time. I am not the cause of Tabitha’s death; Ian is not the cause. Justin is not the cause. They wanted to help, and the more sensible Diana knows this. But the one I see before me now needs to be angry. She needs to lash out because lashing out keeps her from having to face the fact that her daughter is never coming back.

  “Hey.”

  I turn. Ian stands a few feet away, a bundle of kindling in his arms. His bow is slung diagonally across his chest where it always seems to be these days. In fact, this image has become so familiar to my eyes, it’s as if the bow is a part of the very fabric of who he is. And perhaps it is.

  “Everything all right?” he asks. His eyes dart past me to observe Diana.

  I sigh and close my eyes. “No.”

  He drops the kindling at his feet with a clatter and sits beside me.

  “She is so angry. I’m afraid things will never be the same between us.”

  He says nothing, and I am grateful that he doesn’t try to comfort me. I don’t want to be comforted. I simply want to feel because even this misery keeps me alive on the inside. After a moment, he takes my hand.

  “I want to be here for her,” I whisper. I wipe a tear briskly. “I’m hurting, too.”

  “I know,” he nods. “But maybe . . . I could make y
ou feel better. Just for today.” I look at him, and he smiles. “Come hunting with me.”

  I raise stunned eyes. Hunting?

  “I should’ve suggested it before now,” he adds.

  “I’ve never been hunting in my life,” I say. But a tinge of curiosity invades me.

  “And now is your chance.”

  He stands, reaches for my hand, his blue eyes flaming with excitement. The intensity of them fills me up. I take his hand, and he tugs me to my feet.

  “You are coming into a new era.” He grips my shoulders lightly and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “And I say, a girl needs to know how to fend for herself. How to use a weapon. Gut a rabbit.” He smiles, tapping the handle of my knife at my side. “How to be ready.”

  I raise a brow. “And you plan to teach me all of this?”

  “That’s right.” He adjusts the quiver full of arrows at his back. “But first, how about a little target practice?”

  I see something in his eyes in the moment before he leans in to kiss me, and a conversation with Mia from all those months ago suddenly touches my memory:

  “Does he always look at you that way?”

  “What way?”

  “Like he’s never seen anything better in his life.”

  The first time I noticed, I was tied to a tree, and Ian was bent on rescuing me even as I refused to be rescued. And now? Now, I lean into this rescue with a heart that sings in the simple words of the poet whose poem is safely tucked inside my pouch purse. I look at this boy—the boy who saw me the way I’ve always needed to be seen—and loving him is as natural as wind whistling soft words through the trees or fire burning bright and warm beneath a boiling pot. I love him like this.

  And so we trudge together into the trees—me, and this boy who looks at me like he’s never seen anything better in his life—until we come to a glade. Ian stops, pulls the bow over his head and gripping it, walks toward a tree. With his pocketknife, he marks a circle in the trunk, and returns to my side.

  “That is our target.”