“Different?” Pop tosses a seed into the grass, and then turns as if he can see my face. “Thought it might.”
“I interpreted the vision the way you taught me.” I hesitate with the truth, but keeping secrets has only led to more harm. “The vision is a warning about being lured. A warning about me. A tempting.” I lean away. “It started with a lantern like the last one, but it had burning lips. An exposed spine. And writhing bodies. Maybe in pain . . .” My face warms. “And a stone heart.”
Pop rolls another seed between his long fingers, considering my words for a moment. “I think you might be right. When the lieutenant’s through lookin’ at the drawing, then you’ll get a chance to find the gaps.”
“Wait. Foster has a drawing of it?”
“The lieutenant,” Pop corrects me. “And yes. The boy drew it out.”
A crisp morning breeze whips around me. I shiver. “Do you mean Maddox? Gray had him unharnessed.” I suddenly feel the need to justify myself. “And he wasn’t anywhere near me.”
Pop tosses another seed. Feathers ruffle as the spotted birds frantically search for the kernel. “Ain’t no unharnessing. The bond’s too strong. And behind the Wall, proximity don’t matter, since there ain’t no threat of interception.”
I’m not quite sure what to think about Pop’s comment about my bond with Maddox. But I’m more unsettled by everyone seeing what’s in my head.
“Pop, this vision confirms I’m a threat.” My voice falters. “I haven’t done anything to help the Alliance, and Global Council leaders are on their way. I want to do what’s right, but I’m scared I won’t be strong enough when it counts.” A question is burning inside me, and I desperately need to hear his answer. “Do you think I’ll ever belong, or is there too much of my father in me?”
Pop counts seeds in his palm, rubbing a soft finger over each one. “I believe in what you can do, Honey. It’s all there, in the seed.”
Not sure about the seed part, but . . . “Foster said I have the potential to connect the realms and help Sage destroy the Well. Is that what you believe?”
“I’m saying I believe in you. Sure, you’re a Blight, maybe even a Destroyer, like the last one. That might be what you are, but it ain’t who you are.” Pop tosses the last seed into the wind. “Who are you, Honey?”
I stare at the wooden slats, waiting for some miraculous answer to appear that won’t confirm my deepest fear.
But even Milton stays silent.
Pop reaches out and finds my hand. “Every choice reveals who you are. Creates what you’ll become. Who’s that going to be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. But you’re too afraid to take a good look. It’s easier to spend your time running around, saving everyone’s life, ’cept your own. Sit still too long, and you’ve got to deal with that monster lurking inside.”
I snap my head up. “I’m not a monster.”
“Didn’t say you were. But we’d be fools to think we’re not all wrestling with something dark inside.” He scoots to the edge of the seat and motions for me to come closer. I lean in. His smooth hands touch my face. I sit still and let his fingers trace along my eyebrows, my nose, my chin, mapping me somehow. “Spring will come. Can you feel it in the wind?”
As if orchestrated, a fiery sunrise breaks over the lush treetops. A nectar breeze whips a loose strand of hair in my face. My distorted reflection elongates on his dark glasses.
I look at the vibrant treetops. “They say it’s always spring in the Garden. But outside the Wall it’s fall, almost winter.”
Pop sits back. “You fancy yourself a winter?”
His question makes no sense. “I don’t fancy anything except trying to save lives.”
He braces one hand on the cane to stand. I take his frail arm, helping him out of the chair. “Winter hides what spring brings to life. But spring will rise.” His hand finds my cheek, patting it gently.
I have no idea what that means.
The dining room door creaks open. “Ready, Pop?” Harper steps out wearing almost no makeup. Why is it that the less makeup she wears, the more she glows? Maybe it’s a Healer’s gift but probably just a Harper thing. “How’s your shoulder?” she asks me.
I’d completely forgotten about the compress under the sweater since it doesn’t hurt. I lift my arm. No pain. “Fine. Thanks.”
“Come inside. I’ll check the cut.”
I rub the hidden wound. “Thanks, but I’ve got work to do.” A message to find, and a monster to deal with.
“Later then.” She guides Pop inside.
The dining room door bangs closed just as Cole jogs up the porch steps. “Mornin’, gorgeous.”
“Harper’s inside, so I doubt she heard you.”
“Hey, Blindy, I wasn’t talking about Harper.”
A waking flutter sprawls across my stomach. “I’m not blind. I’m a Blight.”
“Makes no difference to me.” Cole tips his hat, dangling that dangerous smile on his lips.
“Cut it out.” I head to the porch rail for distance.
“Come on, you know you love me.” Cole drapes his arm around my neck and whispers against my ear, “Probably dream about me.”
“Oh, you mean a nightmare?” I elbow him in the ribs and duck out of his headlock. As he rubs his side, I quickly take off his stupid hat so I can finally read him. Now I’ve got a clear look at his face. He scrubs out his jet-black hair, messing it up even more.
His high cheekbones are kissed with windburn, and behind those long black lashes, his mischievous eyes are striking emeralds caught by surprise. The color darkens as the blazing Current splits every neuron wide open.
I’m melted frozen.
“Give me that.” He swipes the hat back. He shouldn’t cover his face. Not with hypnotic eyes that gorgeous.
But Cole shoves the hat on my head, pressing it low. It carries a faint smell of him, smoky wildfire and hair gel. “Looks good on you, Blighty.” His muffled voice sounds shaky.
I look up from under the rim of the hat and press my back into the wooden rail. Through the window, Maddox turns his head and moves away, or at least I think it’s him. The meshed screen and warped glass make it hard to tell. Cole leans his shoulder into mine as he faces the lawn. “Listen. Foster’s in a briefing about how things are going down at sunset. I’m supposed to watch over you for an hour or so. There’s a place inside the Garden by the lake’s edge. Five-minute drive. If we go now, I can train you with the Steel. In private.”
“Seriously?” Excitement bubbles in my voice.
“Plus, I hate the flowers around here. Looks like my mom’s couch puked all over the place.”
I try to imagine him sprawled on a floral couch, asleep. “Was it pink?”
“The couch?” He exaggerates a shudder. “Yeah.”
When I laugh out loud, a wide grin spreads across his full lips. “Keep the hat on, and let’s go before someone drags you inside.”
He takes my hand and leads me down the patio steps and around the side of the house. With incredible stealth and perfect timing, Cole sneaks us past a cluster of Blades patrolling the yard.
When we get to the woods, I let go of his hand. “I forgot.” I hold out my arm with the tracker wrapped snug against my skin. “Gray will know.”
Cole takes the knife from the hem of his jeans. “Give me your wrist.”
I hesitate.
“Look.” Cole slides the knife against his own Cord, placing it just under the thread and over the jagged burn on his wrist. Sparks and smoke kick off the wire when the Steel makes contact. He plucks at the string until it loosens enough to slide over his hand. “The Cord will show you’re in the area, but exact location won’t register for an hour or so.” He stuffs his tracker in his pocket and then holds my wrist. “Take a deep breath. And try not to move.”
The knife sizzles. I grit my teeth. If this burning is what it takes to get some training, then I’ll gladly endure it.
After placing my tracker in his pocket, Cole effortlessly weaves through the shadows in the woods. I stick right behind, even though my stomach twists a little. He pushes a branch aside and steps onto the end of the sloped drive.
“Where’s this ride of yours?” I ask.
He carefully plucks back a blanket of overgrown shrubs, sparking with something silver underneath. “It’s technically not my ride, but Gray won’t mind.”
“We’re stealing Gray’s motorcycle? Are you insane?” I yank the hat off.
Cole smirks. “Yeah, kinda.” Pulling the keys from his pocket, he straddles the seat and kicks the pedal. When he revs the engine, my bones rattle. “Get on. We’re running out of time.”
I straddle the bike behind Cole without question, because once I leave this Garden, everything changes. And I really need to know how to wield a weapon.
I feel awkward on the bike. I’m not sure what to do with my hands. Should I let them hang? Put them on his shoulder or . . .
He takes his hat, tossing it in the brush. Then he brings my hands to his waist. “Hang on, princess.”
“I’m not a prin—”
As soon as he guns the engine, I swallow the word and grip him tight. No helmet? What am I thinking? This is bound to end badly. But as soon as Cole peels out and the wind kisses my cheeks, I forget everything.
In this moment, I feel like I’ve been kicked alive.
Cole parks the bike near the matted brushwood by the road. I follow him through a worn path in the winding woods until we reach a small clearing by the lake, a picnic spot of smooth grass engulfed by wilderness. Charred wood from a blackened campfire sits near the lake. Morning sun sparkles on the placid water and the soggy air smells of mud and pine. With each step, my running shoes sink into the wet earth.
Cole squats to remove the knife from the hem of his jeans, or sock, or wherever he has it hidden. “Let’s get you trained, Blighty.”
“I’m so ready.” I reach out, eager to hold the weapon.
He pulls it back. “Don’t put your greasy fingerprints on the blade. That’s seventeenth-century metal, for crying out loud.”
I frown. “I’m not exactly a knife expert.”
“Yeah, well this one’s a relic, so treat it with respect.”
“You get that lecture from Foster or Pop?”
“No. Pretentious overseas boarding schools.” As he starts hacking at low-hanging vines on the perimeter, the knife glistens, even in the shade.
“How’d you swipe the Paradise Steel from Gray?”
“Let’s just say distractions work in my favor.” He slices another vine, tossing it aside.
My fingers are itching to hold the knife. “Can you get me one?”
Cole looks at me, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what it took to get this? I couldn’t do it again without Gray catching on. And the problem with having one is stashing it, moving the weapon around so they won’t find it on me. If they find one on you . . . ?” His expression shadows. “Just hurry and clear the trunks. We’ll use them as targets.” He turns away to cut another knot of tangled vines.
They’d kill me, I know. I’m already on the termination short list. I push up my sleeves. The clunky bandage sticks to my shoulder. I take a fistful of the vine. “If I accidentally get cut, will this knife make me bleed out too?” My palm scorches as the waxy leaves turn yellow and the branch wilts with time-lapse speed. I let go, startled. Did I do that?
I glance at Cole’s vines. They stayed green.
He doesn’t seem to notice my shriveled ones. “No. Just Gray’s Steel,” he says, walking to the center of the clearing while counting under his breath. I follow after him, not wanting to touch another branch. “It’s a unique composite. His weapon has been handed down through their family for generations. There’s talk that the metal is actually a piece of the gate that broke off during an attack with Sage back in the Renaissance. I highly doubt that. The gate is indestructible and transfers with the Well. My guess? It’s been forged differently and probably has a higher concentration of whatever special alloy is in ours.” Cole stops. So do I. “That’s about fifteen paces. Memorize this distance, Blighty. You don’t want to get any closer to a Legion than this. Gives you time to duck if they come your way.”
He doesn’t know how close I’ve already been to one. I shudder thinking about it. No less than fifteen paces seems a safe distance to me.
“You ever throw knives?” He spins me around to face the tree line.
“Never.” Unless tossing pencils into foam blocks that Mom would bring home from work counts.
“Watch how I do it.” He flings the blade with one swift motion. It sticks perfectly in the tree. He plucks the weapon free, inspecting the tip. “Most knives can’t be used for throwing and slicing. But these babies play by their own rules.”
“Why knives? Why not make bullets out of that special alloy?”
“It’s something about what happens when the edge of the blade makes contact. Don’t know that bullets would have the same effect.” Cole puts his arm around my waist. “Now stand like this.” He leans into my back, positioning my arms, the same way Maddox did when teaching me guitar. “It’s in the release. Keep your wrist and arm straight. Don’t flick it, that’ll cause too much rotation. Just let go when it’s about eye level.” Cole gently moves my hand to demonstrate the motion and looks down my arm to make sure my wrist is straight. My flittering stomach tingles as his wildfire scent intensifies. “These knives are lighter, so when applying force, account for the weight. And don’t forget to factor in wind. Got it?”
I nod even though I’m not a physics genius. Honestly, my brain tuned out about half of what he just said. Not only is he too close, but I want to test the knife out for myself. Then I’ll make adjustments.
“Good.” Cole releases my hand. “Now aim for the center.” The hilt pulses in my fist, bucking against my palm. I grip tighter.
“Go for it.” Cole crosses his arms, waiting.
I lift the blade and concentrate on a smooth release. The tumbling knife trips through the air and lands at the base of the trunk. Yeah, I was bad at tossing pencils too. Maybe I should have paid more attention in physics.
“Try again.” I’m impressed that Cole doesn’t laugh at my horrible attempt. He picks up the weapon and wipes away the mud with the hem of his shirt. “Release sooner. Toss harder.” He watches me throw the blade again. When it gets caught in the vines, he ducks his head, swallowing a laugh, I’m sure.
All told, I must have tried thirty times. Each time, I miss or it bounces off the bark, despite Cole moving me closer or farther away from the target. Nothing seems to help.
Cole scrubs out his hair. “Let’s try something else.”
After collecting the loose vines, he wraps them into a winding ball. “Let’s see how hard you can stab into this sucker.” He fastens the knotted vines to the tree. “Imagine, if you will, a Legion or Cormorant—or Sage.” He takes my wrist and walks me to the tree. “One handed. See how far you can get through.”
“Seriously? It would be like stabbing the tree.”
“Consider it more like a punching bag wrapped in chains.”
“That’s worse.” I clutch the knife with both hands.
“Nope. One handed.” Cole removes my left hand. “And shank up.”
“Just stab it?” Judging by what happened when I touched the leaves, these vines might turn yellow and wither just the same. What will Cole do if he sees how my touch destroys the Garden? On top of that, I’ll probably end up digging the knife into the tree or breaking my hand. “Can we do something else?”
“One hit, Blighty. Let’s see what you’ve got. Strike deep. Upward thrust. Come on.”
Kellan used that same phrase when we were on the streets. He said the way to kill the creatures was to aim for the heart, strike deep, and pray I don’t die. Maybe this is how he trained. If it is, I can do this. I have to learn this.
I take a deep breath and strike hard. On
impact, the hilt sizzles my palm. I let go. The knife is caught in the vines. But barely.
Cole plucks the weapon free. “Was that all you’ve got?”
I wrap my arms around myself. My sweater is damp from the soppy air. “Let me see you try,” I snap. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to pierce the vines—or the tree. So I cross the short distance to the shore, hoping the sun will warm me.
“Actually, it’d probably be the same for me.” Cole walks along the lake’s edge. “I only wanted to see if you could. Gray has us all try something similar, but no one’s been able to, as far as I know.” His voice drops low. “Except for Gray.”
In the sunlight, Cole’s skin looks ashen, and with those dark circles under his eyes, I wonder if he ever sleeps. Maybe being with Sage does that to you.
The ground is slippery near the shore. I step gently beside Cole. “What can you tell me about Sage?”
Cole halts, then walks off. I hurry after him, slipping across the mud, but quickly regain my balance. I catch up to him. “Please.”
Cole’s eyes bore into me. When the fiery Current swells, he shifts his gaze to the horizon. “The problem with Sage is that when you think you’re going against him, you find you’re right where he’s wanted you to be all along.”
“But that’s not the case with me. Being here, helping the Alliance by searching for a way to defeat him . . . He wouldn’t want that. Would he?”
“I sure hope not.” Cole abandons the sun, ducking into the shadows. Fresh pine invades the air as he clips a thin branch from a nearby tree. “But Sage has been around forever and experienced things firsthand. Probably even manipulates situations to keep Blights alive, since they work in his favor.” He picks up a vine. “He knows more than the Alliance, that’s for sure. He’s slick and can get anyone to do anything he wants. Might be mind control, poisonous air, who knows.”
“Is that how he gets Awakened to give up their Bents and become Dissenters?” I could understand being tricked, but the idea of someone like my dad willingly siding with someone so evil is beyond me.
Realms of Light (The Colliding Line Book 2) Page 9