by Bree Moore
Harper stepped inside. “Close the gate.”
Tyson obliged, the hinges squeaking again. As soon as it closed, the sounds of the hiking trail were cut off. The silence was stifling. The air felt thick and warm.
Harper reached back and touched Tyson’s chest, stopping him in place. She breathed slowly, eyeing the dark entrance to the tunnel. “The portal is through there. It will take us anywhere we think of when we enter it.”
“We can’t just think ‘Alaska.’ We could end up on different sides.”
Harper took the phone out again. She opened to a browser page, a photo of two mountain ranges in Alaska that stood side-by-side with a valley in between.
Tyson read the caption below the photo out loud. “Gates of the Arctic. Huh. Arctic gates. Go figure. Think that’s what Charlie meant?”
Harper nodded. For some reason, speaking felt… dangerous here. Like the tunnel sucked the intentions out of the words, making them hollow and meaningless. She didn’t want to speak unless she had to.
“Okay. We can picture that. Anything else?”
Harper held a finger to her lips and put the phone away. She pointed at the tunnel. “I was told it’s guarded,” she said in a low voice.
“Whispering won’t keep us from hearing you,” a male voice echoed out of the tunnel, and a group of five emerged from the entrance, stepping through the weeds. The plants were a holographic image, like the one Harper had seen James Petrov make in his class.
They were faced with four males and a female. One male stood at the head, his long hair pulled back into a manbun revealing the shaved sides of his head, which were tatted. His thick arms crossed over his leather-clad chest, and he smirked at the rest of his crew, jutting his chin toward Harper and Tyson.
“Look what wandered in. Do you think they have passports?”
The others laughed. Harper scanned them, taking in the piercings, dyed and half-shaved heads, tattoos that wiggled across their bodies… She blinked. She could have sworn she saw that one on the bald guy’s bicep move. He grinned at her and flexed.
“Passports?” Tyson’s voice in her ear made her jump.
“Hey, I said no whispering!” the guy in leather shouted.
Tyson jumped back.
The leather-clad guy chuckled. “You clearly aren’t prepared to be here. Walk back through the gate without asking any questions, and you’ll forget you ever saw this place. Literally.”
Using the portal wasn’t optional. They had to get to Alaska, and fast. Her hands clenched into fists. The buds of her wings slipped through the skin on her back, tingling where they poked through. She saw Tyson’s warning glance from the corner of her eye but ignored it.
Tyson raised his hands, stepping forward. The gang stiffened, and the girl’s hand glowed green. She had magic. Harper suspected they all did. Her eyes darted around. They were in a cage, essentially, with the fence on all sides, including above them. She couldn’t fly them out if things turned bad. It would have to be a fight.
“Beck has a way of taking care of trespassers like you.” The guy in leather motioned and the girl with the glowing hand stepped forward, a broad grin on her face. She swirled her hand around, sending a spiraling mini tornado into the air. It leapt off her hand and enlarged.
Harper leaned back in spite of herself. Tyson put a hand out in front of her, as if that would do anything to protect her. Or was he trying to stop her from attacking them?
“Stop,” a cold, commanding voice came echoing out of the tunnel. When the woman emerged, her face gleamed with so much metal she could hardly be recognized as human. Her hair hung past her shoulders in knotted electric-blue dreadlocks.
The man scowled. “I told you we could handle this. You don’t need to reveal yourself over these cyphers.”
The blue-haired woman held up a phone, the screen flickering with the purple and black static background of the ParaWeb. “Their faces are all over the place, Yonks. They’re being called heroes.” She walked forward until her nose nearly met Tyson’s. She stood the same height as him, slightly taller with her thick boots. “Standing up to the man. Taking out the traitors. Nice going. Besides,” she turned her head back to the gang, who stood shifting their stances, “I know this one.”
Her finger jabbed Tyson in the chest and her dark lips widened in a malicious grin. “Remember me from summer camp, Miller?”
⇺ ⇻
Chapter Ten
Becca
One other set of eyes remained open after the fire died down. They belonged to Avaan. Becca blinked away from the hypnotic stare, disturbed by Avaan’s attention. Every time she looked at him he gazed back, and he never broke first. Her eyes watered.
From the smoke.
Becca had spent so much time resting from those darts, she couldn’t possibly fall asleep now. Plus, her upper arm and shoulder itched, and she feared scratching it and feeling more dead skin peel off.
She adjusted her positioning on the ground, leaning back against Quinn who slept upright on a large boulder. Even Tarkik and Silla were asleep, apparently at ease enough not to have a guard. Their hearing was probably keen enough they would wake and halt any escape attempt, especially considering the open land and the still-bright sky. Strange, that. A blueish purple tinge blanketed a sky dotted with stars.
She turned her head and again met that silky, milk chocolate gaze. She licked her dry lips. She felt… odd. A magnetic pull lurched in her stomach. It crawled up her spine and into her head and made her yearn to be next to the man with olive skin cast in the purple hue of the eternal twilight.
Becca cleared her throat and drew her knees in, wrapping her arms around them. She worked against the too-large coat sleeves, trying to get them out of the way so she could clasp her hands.
“Are you warm enough?” His rich, lilting accent carried through the air and straight into her ears. His attention made her face heat, and she found herself ducking her head and fidgeting with the offending coat sleeves. She stared at them a moment.
“Oh, this is yours, isn’t it?” Her hand flew to the zipper. “I’m sorry, you must be freezing. You can have it back.”
His eyes glittered. “I’ll not have you die of exposure on my watch. It is a gift.”
Becca rubbed at the heat rising yet again in her cheeks, then blew on her hands to cover her embarrassment. “It’s very generous of you. But I think there’s not much that can be done about my eventual fate. I’m a serpent that’s landed in a nest of eagles. Or near enough.” She rocked a bit, her back striking the boulder behind her.
Quinn stirred, grunting, his long hair blowing in a breeze across his face. An owl hooted in the distance.
“You may be surprised at what comes to your aid in the last moment. Nothing is done until it is done.” Avaan turned his shoulders to face her more squarely.
“I thought you might have split off to take your pictures.”
Avaan sighed, clapping his hands in his lap. “They’ve destroyed my camera. I am captive, as you are, and await judgement from their chief. They expect me to contribute to their cause against you, but I won’t.” His tone grew fierce and protective. It startled Becca.
She picked up a stick, nudging it into the coals of the fire. A small flame flared up, then died again without something to feed it. “But you don’t know me. And if it meant your freedom, maybe you should testify against me.”
“It is not my way.”
A wind picked up, rushing over the pulsing embers of the fire between them, fanning it back to life briefly with a flurry of sparks. Becca watched it, knowing Avaan’s gaze remained locked on her. She knew if she looked now, she would never want to look away, and it frightened her. Did she feel that way about Quinn? What she had with Quinn sometimes felt so subtle, like it didn’t exist. Especially now, with members of his tribe here—sworn enemies against the serpent woman she’d become.
Why did she ever touch that stupid mummy?
; “Your thoughts are in turmoil.”
“And yours aren’t?” Becca scoffed. “What’s keeping you up, then?” Her voice sounded more aloof than she intended, but it was better. Better not to look into those mesmerizing eyes, better not to give any indication she felt a connection between them.
“I came from my home country straight here. There, it is midday. My body hasn’t adjusted yet.”
“Fair enough.” It was such a mundane conversation, so unlike anything she’d had in weeks, being in hiding and on the run with Quinn, and the events of the past few days. A nice change. “Where are you from?”
“Lebanon. My family has never left. As far as I know, I am the first.” He tilted his head and pursed his lips. Becca’s heart skipped a beat. Her brain nearly shut down. “Except for an eccentric uncle on my mother’s side. But we haven’t heard from him since.”
Becca’s mouth struggled to form words. “It… must be hard… being away from your homeland.”
“I had high hopes for this trip. I was promised it would be… rewarding.”
Becca laughed. “Some reward. A death sentence.”
Avaan held up a finger. “Nothing is done until it is done.” His smile widened. “I still hope. For both of us.”
Quinn stirred beside Becca, and she glanced at him. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him, his normally serious brow relaxed in sleep. She snuggled into his shoulder, shutting her eyes tight against the temptation to meet Avaan’s gaze again. Gradually, the tugging sensation in her body faded, and her breathing slowed. Quinn shifted again, sitting up further. He faced her and kissed the top of her head softly. Becca sighed. Safe, contented. She didn’t have any need for exotic strangers. Quinn would stand by her no matter what. He’d already proven that.
The night passed far too swiftly. Or maybe it was an effect of the never-ending Alaskan summer day. Becca’s eyes cracked open as soon as the sun breached the horizon. She rubbed at her crusty eyes and stretched, then realized she needed to pee. Badly.
She wrapped her arms around herself and stumbled across the rocks until she navigated to a spot behind a crag obscuring her from the others’ line of sight. Unzipping her jeans with numb fingers, she cursed men and the ease with which they peed in the wilderness. She hadn’t thought about asking for toilet paper, but something told her that these Alaskan natives didn’t have any. She shuddered as she zipped back up, praying she didn’t have to go number two any time soon.
Emerging from behind the rocks, she found Tarkik staring at her from his seat near the fire pit.
“Morning,” Becca said, trying to sound cheerful.
The man grunted and stood, walking away. The other man, Silla, squatted at the fire, stoking it with a long stick.
“My brother is hard-hearted. You will find Chief Aguta a much fairer judge.”
Becca fixed her eyes on Silla. “Any tips for winning the ol’ chief over?”
Silla blinked. “Do not call him old, perhaps. And do not reveal your relationship with his son.”
Becca’s mouth dropped open. She shut it quickly, rubbing her hands on her jeans and sitting on a rock across the fire from Silla. She clasped her hands together near her face, leaning on her arms. Her tongue ran along her teeth while she thought.
“Is this some sort of Romeo and Juliet situation?”
“I’m not familiar with those people. Is the story tragic?” Silla asked. Becca eyed him, wondering if he joked, but the serious-faced native man didn’t seem to be pulling her leg. His eyes were wide and sincere. He stood and adjusted the steaming pot on the rocks near the fire.
“Their families are feuding. Romeo and Juliet meet at a young age and fall in love, but are unable to be together. They die rather than live their lives apart.”
“That’s incredibly foolish. And short sighted. They could have found someone else their families approved of.”
“That’s not the point! People should be allowed to love who they love.”
“The natural laws do not agree with you. In this case, it is better to let go of Quinn than to let the whims of your heart taint his reputation among his own people. To give him his best chance of finding a mate here, you must withhold your own feelings.” Silla stirred the pot and frowned, then pulled a tiny pouch from his belt and sprinkled brown powder into the pot. A faint whiff of cinnamon wafted toward Becca. Her stomach growled.
Becca folded her arms. “Have you told him this?”
Silla shook his head, then dragged the pot from the fire. How he touched the handle without getting burned, Becca couldn’t understand. He grunted. “I have been seeking an opportunity. When you awakened first, I took it as a sign that you would receive the information with more wisdom. He will react better hearing it from you.”
“You think that me telling him we can’t be together because his family would reject him would be better than you telling him?” Becca scoffed, glancing to where Quinn slept, slumped nearly sideways against the boulder. “It will break his heart.” She’d felt this sensation before—a thick weight in her chest, a dull pain near her sternum that spread across her ribs. It throbbed every time she looked at him, taking in his long, beautiful hair falling across his face and those stark, handsome features. Becca swallowed hard, bringing her gaze back to the fire.
Silla spoke softly. “This isn’t a tale where love triumphs over all. All those who leave our village—and those who take a mate outside of our people—they are refused entrance ever again. Quinn’s parents left our people and would not be allowed to return, but Quinn and his sister are not held responsible for the faults of their parents. We welcome them with open arms.”
“Now who’s shortsighted?” Becca snorted.
“We do it for the preservation of our people,” Silla said in a stern voice. He spooned the steaming food into several paper bowls. “Our numbers dwindle. Soon we will be gone from the earth if measures are not taken to increase the flock.”
“Will you marry him off before or after you execute me?” Becca’s hands curled into fists. Her eyes burned from the smoke of the fire, making them water.
“You are angry. It is expected.” Silla set his hands on his knees. “I would not see you executed, but turned back into the wilderness to find your way. Same with the photographer. Others do not have the same opinion. Our chief will take them all into account. Quinn could defend you without dishonoring himself. Act as though you are no more than friends, and it will go in your favor, I am sure.” He handed her a steaming bowl and a bone spoon. Becca grudgingly took both. Her stomach clenched with too much hunger for her to make a rebellious display over breakfast.
It looked, smelled, and tasted like normal oatmeal, except without anything to sweeten it. Though the cinnamon helped, and to her surprise, the dark lumps were cooked blueberries. She hadn’t expected to find anything like that out here.
“What time is it?” she asked suddenly, swallowing her last mouthful.
Silla glanced at the sun. “Perhaps 5 a.m.”
“It truly doesn’t get dark here in the summer, does it?”
“No. We’ve entered the time of eternal day. It takes time to get used to. Even living here my whole life, I struggle to sleep past dawn when I’m not in my home.”
Becca stopped shivering as her body warmed from the oatmeal. Behind her, she heard Quinn get up and, from the sound of his footsteps, he made the same trip to the crag that she had earlier. Avaan also stirred beneath the crinkly metallic blanket. He lay beyond Silla some distance, but Becca could still see his yawn, and when he sat up to stretch her gaze was riveted to the lengthening muscles in his arms and chest.
That hook sensation caught her off guard, wedging itself into a space between her stomach and chest. She rubbed at the spot, swallowing another bite without chewing well. The lump slid down her throat. She gulped hard and it hurt, but she forced the food down, then stared into the half-empty bowl.
Quinn came and crouched next to her, hi
s arm wrapping around her and rubbing her shoulder.
Becca shrugged, but his arm stayed put until she reached up and pulled it off. It dropped, and with it went the warmth and comfort she usually enjoyed from Quinn.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his face, knowing he would be confused. They would have to find a moment to talk privately later, though it seemed unlikely given their company.
Quinn thanked Silla and accepted a bowl of oatmeal from him. He kept glancing at Becca, blowing on his first spoonful of the steaming breakfast.
“Good morning,” he said at last, putting the bite in his mouth.
“Morning,” Becca responded past the lump in her throat. She looked at Silla, who nodded once, solemnly. He approved of her distant behavior, apparently. Becca breathed in deeply to hold the tears at bay and shoved another bite of oatmeal into her mouth. Quinn didn’t deserve coldness, but she didn’t know how to be his friend without being more, not when the feelings were still there, swirling beneath the agitated surface of her heart.
“Sebaho, Rebecca,” Avaan said, face split into a charming smile full of glinting white teeth. Becca forced a smile on her face, but couldn’t bring herself to correct him on her name. No one had called her Rebecca in, well, ever.
Quinn shifted his weight and leaned toward her, his arm touching hers. Becca tossed her unfinished bowl into the fire, stood, and thrust the spoon at Silla.
“I’m going for a walk.”
Silla blinked slowly. “Stay in sight.”
“I won’t go far.” She stalked off, jamming her hands into the coat pockets. She felt hot after sitting next to the fire, but the further she got from the men and the flames, the more she was glad she had an extra layer.
She should have expected Quinn to follow her, but when he did, she hunched over. “Leave me alone.” The words tumbled out of her lips of their own accord. She didn’t mean them, and she didn’t want him to leave her.
“Becca,” Quinn murmured, his hand touching her back and sliding across to her shoulder, where he tugged until she turned to face him.