I guess I’m yelling, because Isabel and Gideon rush over. The rest of Cordero’s precious team has stopped what they’re doing to listen.
“It’s a short flight and you’ll be right behind her,” she replies. “As soon as we’re all in Nevada, we can regroup.”
I’m beyond anger. Beyond words. Shadow has become as close as my own soul. If there’s one thing I’ve done right these past months, it’s protect Sebastian’s horse.
“What’s going on?” Gideon asks as he walks up, his blue eyes sharp. For the first time, it feels like he sees me. Like we see each other.
“It’s Shadow,” Jode says, and starts to explain.
A sick, panicky feeling spreads over me. I interrupt him. “Where’s the orb?” I know where it should be—where I stashed it last night, in my backpack in my trunk at the Smith Cabin. In two pieces. How could I leave it behind?
“It’s secure,” Cordero says. “Nothing will happen to it.”
“You took it? You searched through my things?”
“I couldn’t leave such a powerful and important object unprotected. It’s safe. Much safer than where we found it.”
“Who do you think you are?” I feel like I’ve just relinquished all my power. No—not relinquished. It’s been taken from me. “You can’t just show up and do anything you want!”
“I’m only trying to plan and execute our next rescue attempt as expeditiously as possible. A life is at stake, Daryn. Every second counts.”
What can I say to that? I’m the girl who waited eight months to make a move.
“Then I guess we better get going.” I walk away, thinking only of Shadow.
I have to get back to her side.
*
We make a quick stop at the cabin to pack.
I stuff clothes into my duffel and then shove my journal and my letters to my family in my backpack. I got so used to living on bare necessities while I was a Seeker that I don’t own much, only things that have meaning.
The orb has meaning—and it should be right here.
A wave of anger at Cordero moves through me, but I zip up the pack and sling it over my shoulder, wincing as it bumps my lower back.
As I look around my tiny room, a feeling like pre-nostalgia moves through me.
I’ll never come back here. I feel it somehow, this knowledge, and it makes me wistful. I’ve been incredibly sad within these walls, but they’ve protected me. This room has held my sadness. That’s something.
There’s a soft knock on my door, then Isabel steps in wearing a sad smile. For a few seconds we just stand there, saying nothing. Then she says, “I have to stay.”
“Oh.” The only reason she’d ever leave me is because the Sight has told her to. Because she’s needed somewhere else. Not with me. But it doesn’t change the way it makes me feel. Unmoored. Cut loose. Without her and without Shadow there’s nothing for me to hold on to, and though I did that for a year, traveled the world alone, the idea of solitude now sends a swirl of anxiety through me.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave me unsupervised with Cordero?” My attempt at a joke falls flat. Isabel knows exactly how hard this is for me.
“Natalie is on your side, Daryn. Let her help you.” She places her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “And you have the guys—”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. They’re with you. But never forget that you know what you’re doing.”
“Do I? Do I know how to fight off dozens of freaky creatures with no eyes?”
“You don’t have to fight. Fighting isn’t the answer.”
“You didn’t see that thing. It was evil. You don’t make friends with it.”
“Friendship isn’t what you need to offer. Daryn, evil is its own undoing.”
“You mean they’ll suddenly see the error of their ways? I don’t think so.”
Isabel sighs. Smiles. “Listen to your heart. Pray on it. You’ll know what’s right.”
Jode calls from the family room, telling me they’re ready to leave.
“Go,” Isabel says. “And trust, even when it’s difficult. Especially when it’s difficult.”
I hug her quickly. Then I grab my duffel and my backpack and hurry outside.
Trust? Trust who?
I should’ve asked.
CHAPTER 10
GIDEON
Our private charter is still ten minutes away when we get to the airport, so the team fans out around the small terminal to wait. We’ve spent the past few days hustling and we’re all tired. No one passes up the chance to zone out or grab a few minutes of sleep.
I’m about to sit by Marcus and Jode when I see Daryn enter the women’s room.
I should go talk to her. Clear the air. The sooner the better.
“The men’s room is that way, G,” Marcus says.
“But Daryn’s not in the men’s room,” Jode adds.
Marcus’s eyebrows climb. “Ohhh.”
“Get your asses up and watch the door,” I tell them. “And shut up? Like, preemptively shut up about anything you do or do not observe in the next ten minutes.”
When I step inside, Daryn is splashing cold water on her face at the sink. She doesn’t react at all when she sees me. Just grabs a paper towel and dries off.
“Um … are you lost?” she asks. Her eyes are red, and I can’t tell if she’s been crying or if she’s just tired.
“No.” I reach into my pockets and pull out the butterfly bandages and antiseptic I grabbed earlier from a medical kit. It was smart of her to wrap the flannel around her waist. You wouldn’t be able to see the bloodstains on the plaid pattern unless you were looking. I was looking.
Daryn glances toward the door.
“No one’ll come in.”
Her shoulders relax. She unties her flannel slowly and sets it on the sink.
I stand behind her, putting the supplies on the counter.
The gray T-shirt she’s wearing is sticking to the wound as she tries to lift it up. “Can you—?”
“Yeah, I got it.” She props her arms on the sink and squeezes her eyes shut as I peel the fabric up.
I almost can’t contain my reaction. Three gashes run sideways across her lower back where her spine curves. They’re deep cuts. Angry.
Instantly, so am I. She dealt with this kind of danger. I wasn’t there to help. None of us were. It’s not right.
I draw a breath and concentrate on settling down. There’s nothing I can do to change this right now except treat it. But when the times comes, whatever did this to her is going to suffer.
I notice there are also pale scars running perpendicular to the cuts, faint lines on her bronze skin. Daryn told me how she got them, escaping from the mental hospital where she ended up when she started having visions. She’s been through a hell of a lot in the past couple of years. Most of it on her own.
“Is it bad?” she asks.
I clear my throat. “On a scale of one to ten this is probably a five.”
“Will I live?”
I meet her eyes in the mirror. “Yeah. You’ll live.”