“No, ma’am. I need to report in to my CO.”
Texas doesn’t say a word, but everything about him is backing up his partner. The way he’s watching Cordero. The way he’s standing. These guys are risking everything for me. What Beretta wants to report is the fact that something’s wrong.
Has he figured out what?
Does he know who Cordero is?
Cordero finally nods. “Fine. But hurry back.”
Beretta steps out. Now I wonder who’s on the other side of that door. Are they really Army? Are they people? Or is Samrael out there with Ra’om? With Bay and Ronwae? They could all be here.
Cordero and I are looking at each other like nothing unusual is going on. I picture who I’m really looking at. Stringy hair the color of earthworms. Pocked. That dark, dirty suit that’s oversized, bagging around the hands and feet. Spilling over his shoulders. But that was just a front too. The real Malaphar is the melted wax monster, with drooping skin and boneless limbs.
The radiator kicks on. Tink, tink, tink.
Perfect soundtrack for the nightmares I’ll be having the rest of my life.
If I live.
“I changed my mind,” I say. “Can I get some water?” Maybe Texas can cut my bindings when he brings me water. Or loosen them. Or slip me his bowie knife. Anything.
“But you’re almost finished, aren’t you?” Cordero says. “I think you’ll survive.”
Everything has a double meaning now.
Focus, Blake. Assess, plan, execute.
I search for my sword again, and find the thread, the focus, the feeling. The relief stops my heart for a moment. Yes. It’s with me. I can summon it now. And I can feel Jode, Bas and Marcus through the cuff, too. They’re close, like I thought. My armor’s still out of my reach. And Riot is too, but I’m coming back.
I need to know why Malaphar is here. He wants something—something from me. Knowledge. I’ve been sitting here, telling him my story. He’s been listening for clues.
Clues about what? The Kindred got the key.
Didn’t they?
I think of Daryn at the diner outside of Los Angeles the first time I saw the key on the chain around her neck. Did she ever tell me, actually tell me, that I was looking at the key?
“You were saying that you and Marcus finally had it out?” Cordero says.
I’m a sitting duck, tied to this chair.
Time. Time is the only thing I can control.
Daryn is here. So are the guys. Texas and Beretta. One of them will come through. Someone will get me out of this chair before Malaphar is done with me.
I need to keep bluffing.
I need to stall.
CHAPTER 49
Jealousy was what started it.
I was coming back to the hut after a patrol hike around our area. I’d been making them every day to search for signs of the Kindred. Alone for the past couple of hours, I was completely zoned in to the quiet of the fjord, my senses tuned to all the smells and sounds of Jotunheimen.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Daryn and Marcus by the stone circle. They were huddled on the same stone, their heads were bent close, and their backs were to me.
For a second I thought they were kissing.
Or about to. Or just had.
Something.
I heard Daryn laugh, and then Marcus said, “Dare, this isn’t gonna work if you keep moving.”
I went over to them, a volcanic pressure building inside me. “Afternoon,” I said.
Daryn whirled to me. “Hey.” The smile disappeared from her face. “Splinters,” she said, raising her hand. “From cutting firewood.”
Irrational rage spread through me as I looked at Marcus.
“I’ll be at the clearing, Reaper,” I said, and put myself in a forced march down the mountain.
Marcus came down five minutes behind me. I’d somehow managed not to detonate in that stretch of time. “No weapons,” I said, as he joined me at the center of our practice field.
He nodded, and we went at it, fist-to-fist.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d split the skin over the first two knuckles on my right hand and picked up a collection of new bruises. Marcus had punched me above the temple. I was pretty positive I had a concussion. I’d already dry-heaved a few times, but it was Marcus’s turn now. He was bent over his knees, coughing from the gut shot I’d given him.
“So we’re clear,” I said. “If you hurt her, I’ll end you.”
He peered up at me, drawing his sleeve over his mouth. “Man, you are stupid.” He straightened. “You got the wrong idea.”
“I saw you—”
“You saw nothing.” He shook his head. “You’re wrong in the head, War.”
He had that right. My ears rang and I couldn’t stay balanced. Saliva poured into my mouth. Puke was in my immediate future. And those were only the physical symptoms.
I was losing some piece of me to Ra’om and Samrael. I was starting to self-destruct. I remembered Marcus’s question our first day there. Who’re you fighting? I was starting to figure out the answer.
Marcus watched me with his cool gray eyes. “She was talking to me about you.”