And I want to see my mother again. I need to tell her I didn’t abandon her. That I didn’t leave because I was trying to hurt her. I left because I love her. Because I couldn’t stand to see her so sad and not know how to help.
Cordero said she was sure it wasn’t Mom inside the Rift. But somehow it doesn’t matter to me, I realize. She felt real. I just want to see her again. And right now, Mom inside the Rift is closer to me than Mom in Connecticut.
The sun is setting as I return to camp. I find the other horses in stalls by Shadow’s. Riot, Ruin, and Lucent look ridiculous penned like normal horses, and I laugh as the steel walls of their enclosures begin to make sense to me, considering Riot. Someone must have thought it would help Shadow to be with them—and it’s a great idea. I think it will help. And I think I know who the “someone” was.
I absorb the horses’ presence for a moment. I haven’t been alone with them since Norway. There’s a hallowed feeling in the space around them. A sense of spaciousness and quiet, like standing in a cathedral.
All three of the horses watch as I brush Shadow and weave her silky mane into three thick braids. Lucent bobs his head like he wants to be next—such a fancy-pants, Jode’s horse—but I’m starving, my body’s tired from riding, and the cuts on my lower back are pulsing with pain. I’m pretty sure some of the bandages have opened. I hug Shadow’s strong neck and leave them for the night. Food smells and the sound of conversation drift from the mess tent but I head for the RV Maia pointed out earlier as ours.
My duffel and my backpack are inside, on the full-size bed in the small room in the back. I grab them both and toss them on the twin bed set into an alcove in the narrow hallway, putting Maia’s stuff in the bedroom. I don’t need much space and I don’t want to experience any form of luxury on Cordero’s dime.
After a hot shower, I feel better but my back is bleeding again. Since my arms haven’t gotten any longer, the best I can do is press tissues against it until my shoulder sockets ache. I throw on some sweats and find a bottle of water in the minifridge, taking it down in two tilts. Then I slide into the booth and send Isabel a text to let her know things are fine. I’ve just hit send when Maia climbs into the RV.
“Pizza,” she says, raising the paper plate in her hand. “I figured you’d want to eat here. I hope Carnivore’s Delight is okay. Not a lot of vegetarians around here.”
“Yes, it’s perfect. You’re the best.” I dig in immediately. “Did you bring anything sweet?”
“Only memories.” She looks up, pretending to go starry-eyed. “Of this amazing scope I saw in Low’s hunting catalogue at dinner.”
“You’re a unique person, Maia.”
“Says the girl who opens realms. Oh, and I have this.” She reaches into her back pocket and drops a rolled-up stack of papers on the table. “Minutes from the meeting. I had to bring them. It’d be great if you could read them at some point so I don’t get fired. But do it later.” She nods toward the door, which she left open to the night. “People are hanging out in one of the trailers. Why don’t you come?” She gestures to my clothes. “You’re all dressed up and everything.”
I laugh. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. I’m…” I don’t have a great excuse. Or even a decent one. “I’m used to being antisocial. It’s kind of my thing.”
“Nice,” Maia says. “You’d make a good sniper.”
“I snipe with pen on paper.”
“Badass, Martin. Okay. There’s a radio on the counter if you need anything, and someone’ll be patrolling outside twenty-four-seven. You good?”
“Yep. I’m good.”
“I don’t want to leave you but I’m the reigning blackjack champ and I need to defend my title.”
“I totally understand. That’s a big responsibility.”
“Right? I knew you’d get it. Okay, Martin. I’m out. Party in solitude.”
In less than five minutes I regret my decision and wish I’d gone with her. Seriously, Daryn. The social-recluse act is getting old.
I pull out my notebook and try to add to “Reasons,” but I’m too distracted and end up doodling around the margins. I try on Maia’s sniper gloves, which she left on the kitchen table. The right index finger of one of them has been cut. Trigger finger, I realize. Whoa.
Then I rummage around the kitchen and find graham crackers, but I don’t eat any. They’re Josie’s favorite and seeing them makes me miss my sister. It makes me picture her with her hair piled up, a pen clamped between her teeth as she pores over a textbook.
A knock on the RV door pulls me from my thoughts. I’m sure it’s Maia coming to convince me to be social. I pull it open, already agreeing. “Okay, I’m in! You win!”
It’s Gideon.
“Hey.” His smile goes crooked with surprise and confusion. “What’d I win?”
“Oh, hey! Hi. I thought you were someone else.”
“I knew it was too easy.”
“Easy?”
“To win something for just showing up.”
“Oh, right. Well…” I try to think of something to say that won’t add to our communication meltdown. You’re a winner in my book. Winning isn’t everything.
He holds up a small black pouch, saving me from myself. “Dr. Gideon Blake, at your service. I’m here to literally watch your back.”
“Great. Come in.” I feel my face warm and I don’t know why. We established a professional code of conduct. This is no big deal. I gesture to the kitchen. “Is here okay? The bathroom’s tiny.”
“Sure.”
I turn and lift my baggy sweatshirt, wondering if he’ll comment. It’s a San Francisco Giants sweatshirt. Not his, but exactly like the one he had that I borrowed a lot last fall. I had to get myself a replacement.
His fingers are warm as they trace the cuts. Every touch is like a tiny tremor that spreads through me. Small earthquakes of feeling. I’m instantly so nervous that words start building up in my throat, fueled by a need to create conversation and hopefully make wound care less sexy. “Does it look better?”
“Marginally.”
“That sounds promising. Am I going to have to file a medical malpractice suit?”
“No way. I rocked this. Your dad couldn’t have done a better job on these.”
“You remember he’s a surgeon.”
“I have a good memory.”
“For me or for everything?”
I hear him swallow. “Sometimes there’s no difference, but … both.”
All the words in my head disappear and my breathing goes shallow and quick. For a long time, all I feel is his touch on my back. It’s the epicenter of all sensation.
“Forget I said that, Daryn.”
“I’ll never be able to.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“Why not?”
“Things with Cordero seemed tense before. At the meeting.”
“She’s doing this all wrong, but don’t change the subject.”
“She’s just thorough. You’ll get used to her. You should read the minutes. They’re epic.”
“Please stop changing the subject.”