I glanced back and saw the weapon resting on his legs. “Explain.” I didn’t like that he had a weapon. And apparent control of his horse. I didn’t have any of that. “Explain right now.”
“Wait a second. You told me you were War. I thought you’d know. You told me you had answers.”
I tipped my head to Daryn. “She does.”
“Some answers. I know some things, but”—she gestured to the scales—“the weapons, the horses. That’s all you guys.”
“Hey, Daryn,” I said, my frustration hitting a boil. “You realize you gave me the worst mission briefing that’s probably ever been given in the history of time?”
“Hey, Gideon. This is a need-to-know situation. You know what I need you to. I have to get you all together. You can figure out your weapons and horses then. And it’s not like I know everything myself.”
That wasn’t a satisfying explanation at all, but at the moment I was more interested by the scales. “How did you get them back?” I asked Sebastian.
“Watch,” he said.
I took my eyes off the road and turned. The scales disintegrated into a whirl of black ribbons. Poof. Vanished.
That made sense. He could telepathically call the superweapon from magic cuff land when he needed it. Should’ve figured that out myself. “Our horses. Are they disappeared, too?” We’d left our horses standing guard, and for all I knew, they were still hanging out at the studio.
“I called mine back. My guess is yours just followed.”
“Perfect. Listen up, Sebastian. As soon as we get out of this Jeep, you’re going to tell me how you did that. You’re going to show me.”
I sounded like the cadre in RASP, laying it down in ruthless no-BS terms, but whatever. Intel. I needed it.
“No problem,” he said. “And you can call me Bastian or Bas.” He shifted around in the backseat, trying to stretch out his legs. “Most people do. I only really use my full name for work. My real name’s my stage name.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind taking all that extra time to say your full name.” Not very cool of me, but I was having a hard time being so far behind the learning curve on stuff that seemed pretty damn critical.
“Gideon has OCPD tendencies,” Daryn said. She pulled my Giants sweatshirt on. It felt like her sweatshirt now.
“Say again?”
She smiled. “Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder. It’s an extreme preoccupation with perfectionism, orderliness, and neatness.”
Was that how she saw me? Like a human graphing calculator? Great. “You missed a few, Martin. I also like specifics. Thoroughness. And winning. At everything. But I gotta say as a soldier I fully support your use of acronyms.”
“Ten-four, buddy,” she said.
“In the Army we say ‘Roger that.’”
Her smile grew wider. “Ten-four, buddy.”
For a second there, it felt like maybe she was messing with me, in a good way. Then she raised her eyebrows like, dude. Stare much? And started giving me directions that put us on Highway 15, which was toward Vegas.
“So, no Death Valley?” I asked. “For Death?”
Dumb comment, but my balance was off.
Daryn reached down and rummaged in her backpack like I hadn’t said anything.
“Can’t you just tell me where we’re going?” I said. It came out harsher than I’d meant. Why? No idea why.
She pulled her notebook out, propped it on her knees, and started writing.
Solid brush-off. It simultaneously annoyed me and made me want to smack myself for insubordination. Did I question my commanding officers? Hell no.
She’d told me what we needed to do. Wrangle up some horsemen. I had to focus on that. Sebastian obviously knew more about our tools, our weapons. Maybe the other guys, Conquest and Death, would bring their own contributions. Like Daryn said, I needed to get everyone together, and fast, so we could get down to the real work of mastering our capabilities. It was our best shot at standing against the Kindred. And, no question about it anymore, it was also our best shot at staying alive.
*
An hour later, night was falling and Eddie Vedder was singing about still being alive as I drove past the turnoff to Barstow. I watched the sign come and go, marking a place that I didn’t know, but that had pretty big personal meaning. My dad had spent six months stationed at Fort Irwin in Barstow. Anna and I were born during those months. I hadn’t been back here since.
Thinking about that took me to thinking about my mom and how worried she probably was about me. Maybe I should call her. Sure. Call and say what exactly that would stop her worrying?
Sebastian leaned forward and rested his elbows on the front seats. “Is she asleep?”
I nodded. Daryn had somehow rolled into a ball in the passenger seat, tight as a pill bug. I had no idea how she could make herself so small. My kneecaps would’ve exploded in that position. A lock of her hair had fallen over her face. I wanted to brush it aside.
“Gideon, I’m not even going to try to tiptoe around the bush about this—”
“Beat around the bush?”