“Fine. Since you insist. But I have to explain a bit, so you understand.” Jode stretches his legs out and settles against his bag again. “Your sister is taking a course in studio art. Painting, oil on canvas. Her subject is the human figure, but her style is expressionistic. Semi-abstract. She’s been sending me photos of what she’s been doing. They’re fantastic.”
The smirk hasn’t left Gideon’s face. “Okay? I’ve seen my sister’s paintings. They’re all over my house.” He looks at me. “Add it. Number—”
“Hold on, I haven’t finished yet,” Jode interrupts. “In this course Anna’s taking, she’s been exploring the concept of wholeness in her work. Her figures are bold, vital, but each one lacks something physical. The painting with the figure lacking eyes, for example, conveys wisdom. The one with the figure lacking a torso possesses a sense of solidity. The one with no mouth looks as though it’s on the verge of breaking into song. They’re all quite excellent. But the painting of the figures with no hands is Anna’s finest. She thinks so and I do as well, and anyone else who’s seen it.
“In that painting there are two figures. Mirror images, nearly. One is missing the left hand. The other, the right. Nothing is depicted overtly, but you can see that the figures are holding on to one another. They do not have hands but they are quite clearly holding hands. The feeling it communicates is love. It’s unity … and it’s art. In the highest sense of the word, that painting is art.”
Jode scratches his jaw as he sits up and looks Gideon dead square. “So, for thirty, I propose adding that specific painting. The one she made of the two of you.”
Gideon doesn’t move for a long moment. Then he sits up, propping his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands. He laughs. “I’m flustered.” When he peers at me a moment later, his eyes are shining and his smile almost breaks my heart. The love he has for his sister is so evident. It makes me ache to see Josie. “Thirty,” he says.
I add it.
And we keep going, all of us calling up our own Reasons. I’m surprised by how much the guys get into it; we easily break the fifty-item mark. With every new addition, it feels like we’re restoring ourselves. Reminding ourselves that the things that are meaningful to us belong to us.
We choose what goes on this list.
It feels, in some small way, like pushing against the power of the Rift.
CHAPTER 22
GIDEON
In the morning, Shadow is missing.
I’m not too alarmed, though. We don’t tether our horses because they don’t wander away. It’s their nature to protect us, so they never go far.
But after half an hour of walking around camp and calling her, staring into shadows looking for Shadow, we decide it’s time to take her disappearance seriously and make a search plan.
As Jode and I strike camp and pack up, Marcus and Daryn head to the lake. Daryn will wait where she and I talked last night in case she spots Shadow along the shore. Marcus will canvass around the lake in search of her, moving in a clockwise direction. They’ll stay within range of each other in case something comes up.
After they’ve gone, Jode looks at me. “No sign of Sebastian, and now Shadow’s missing?”
“Shadow could’ve found Bas. He could ride up with her any minute.”
“True. Things do seem to always go our way here.”
We get everything packed up. I’m not even sure it’s the right move. If the message really was from Bas we should be staying put, but being mobile instinctively feels better.
“What do you think?” Jode asks, swinging into Lucent’s saddle. “Did we lose Marcus and Daryn, too?”
“Don’t joke, man.”
“It worries me when you’re worried, Gideon,” Jode says. “To the lake?”
“Yeah.” I tie Ruin to Lucent’s saddle and we leave, our count down to two horsemen, three horses, no Seeker.
“They could be there having a grand time, oblivious to our concern,” Jode says.
“If that’s really what’s happening, they won’t be oblivious for long.”
We reach the lake. Daryn’s not here.
Her backpack sits on the shore. The backpack with the orb, which she never lets out of her sight.
I grab it, quickly checking to make sure the orb is still inside.
“Is it there?” Jode asks.
I nod.
He exhales through his teeth. “Now what?”
As I climb back into the saddle, Riot’s amber eyes watch me with unusual intensity. Because he’s so focused on me, I become focused on me.
“Jode, headache.”
“Me too.”
“Shit.” We head away from the exposed lakeshore, back under the cover of the trees. I have no idea what kind of threat we’re dealing with. Another nightmarescape? The Harrows? The freaky relics we’ve been passing? Am I going to ride past a shoe or am I falling through the ground? “Let’s move clockwise like Marcus. Maybe Daryn went with him and—”
An ear-shattering sound rings out, filling the air. It reminds me of when the plane appeared, but this is more constant, a continuous crackling. And it’s coming from the lake.
We wheel around, charging back to the shore we just left behind.
Before we’ve even come through the trees, we see the ice forming on the lake.
It originates from the center, a patch of white spreading over blue water. The sky’s reflection vanishes from the lake’s surface. Replaced by frosted white.
It happens fast.
By the time we barrel up to the lakeshore, the water lapping against the gravel has frozen solid.
That’s when I realize Riot’s moving too fast.
I jam my heels down and throw my shoulders back, wrenching on the reins like I never do. “Riot!”
But he’s a hundred times stronger than I am. The reins strip the skin of my right palm. He doesn’t slow down. The lake’s suddenly right in front of us—and we go airborne.
We clear fifteen feet before his hooves smack down.
For an instant.
He slips, lurches. Staggers right, then jerks back.
I launch from the saddle, flying over his ears. I hit the ice—elbows, chin, chest. Teeth slamming. Then I go sprawling on my stomach, frost kicking into my face.
I’ve barely come to a stop when I feel Riot’s fall—a tremor on the ice. Hear the crunching sound behind me and his deep grunt.
I shoot to my feet, boots slipping, and I touch my chin. Bleeding, and pretty well. I’ve left a red strip on the ice.
I turn to look for my horse.
For a second, as Riot and I try to stay standing, it’s almost funny. Like we’re in some epic tap-dance battle. Then we stabilize, kind of, and every detail registers.
The powerful muscles in Riot’s legs and chest tremble like he’s being electrocuted. Big fogging breaths push from his nostrils. Dragon breaths. His amber eyes are huge and I can see white all around them.
I hear a sizzling sound. The dusting of frost on his red coat melts in a second. It rises into the air as steam and drips off of him as water. A few flames struggle through on his knees. Then I see his hooves, deep red with heat.
They sink like he’s on quicksand, melting into the ice.
If he goes through the ice, he’ll drown. He’ll never get back through the crust. I’ll lose him. And I’ll lose me too, because I’ll go in after him.
Riot lifts his head and makes a low sound, his rear hooves sliding.