But with Bas, there was always noise. Buoyant, good-humored noise in the shape of stories, jokes, pranks, laughter. In the fall, Bas and Gideon entertained each other constantly and that entertained the rest of us. The absence of this feels conspicuous. The lack of their noise is loud.
Adding to my sour mood is the fact that I spent the day watching Bas ride Shadow. It was amazing to see—I’ve wanted to see it for so long—but the loss is beginning to hit me. For the time Bas was in here, she was mine. And I love her.
As soon as I have the thought, Shadow turns from where she stands with the other horses and looks at me.
I think she knows how I feel. I think she feels it, too.
With a fire started and food consumed, sleep is the next step. I know this routine. We’ve done days of this.
I’m about to lay my head on my backpack when Jode says, “Daryn? You’re not sleeping yet, surely?”
I push myself back up. A quarter of my brain is already shutting down. “What? Why?”
“The list! Don’t deprive me. I’ve been waiting all day for it. Give us the List of Life.”
“Yes,” Bas says, breaking into his first smile of the day. “We have to keep going. We’re on seventy-three, right?”
We are. I bring out the notebook and toss it to Marcus, looking forward to more of his beautiful penmanship in my journal.
Marcus sits up and flips it open.
“Your turn, Gideon,” Bas says. “We all added to it last night. You’re next.”
Gideon frowns, and I know why. It feels like Bas just offered him an olive branch.
“Okay.” Gideon shrugs. He looks at me. At first he seems annoyed. Then I see the slightest glimmer of mischief light up his eyes. “Daryn and I have an announcement to make. It’s really early for this, but we’re excited about it, and … what the heck. Let’s just tell them, don’t you think?”
“Oh, definitely,” I say, though I have no idea what he’s up to.
“Great.” His big hand swallows mine in a warm grasp and he turns back to the guys. “Sometime later this year … well, in a few months I should say, since we’re not sure about the timing. But in a few months something really special is going to happen and we want you to be the first to know about it. The three of you. So, in a few months, like I said, we’re going to have a…” He bows his head, resting his forehead on the back of my hand. “Sorry. I’m really emotional about this.”
“The acting,” Jode says. “Macbeth never felt this torment.”
“So bad,” Marcus says, shaking his head.
“Shh, you guys. I like this,” Bas says. “Keep going. What happens in a few months?”
Gideon looks up and there are actual tears glimmering in his eyes—I think they’re from trying not to laugh, though. “We’re going to have a reunion in Connecticut. At Daryn’s family’s house. And you’re all invited. That’s what I want to add. Our reunion.”
I look at him. “That’s actually a great idea.”
“Ahhh,” Bas says, nodding appreciatively. “A reunion, nice. I’ll be there.” His eyes narrow, like he’s seeing potential. “You have raw talent, Gideon. I could shape you into a great actor.”
“I don’t need any shaping, thanks.”
I jab him in the ribs. He smiles and puts his arm around me.
“You’re good, though,” Bas continues, undeterred. “I’ve seen it before this, too. Remember the chocolate samples in Copenhagen?”
Gideon laughs. “Yeah. I remember.”
Something passes between them, thawing the cool distance they’ve kept all day.
Jode circles his hand in an out with it motion. “Do share, for those of us who missed it.”
Bas smiles. His shoulders relax as he settles into storyteller mode. “It was on our train journey from Rome to Norway. I think it happened the day after I got the birthday cake. Remember that?”
Four voices. “Yes.”
“Okay, yeah. So, we had like a fifteen-minute stop at a station. I forget which one, but Gideon and I went looking for food—we did that a lot.”
“You did, Bas. I just went with you.”
“Yeah. That’s probably true. Anyway, we found a bakery and ordered two croissants. The lady behind the counter went to warm them up, so we waited at the counter. Then we saw that right in front of us there was a plate of samples. Chocolates. Little pieces cut up, kind of like fudge. We tried them and they were good, so we kept going. By the time the lady came back with our croissants, we’d taken most of them down. I think Gideon felt bad because he said, ‘These samples were awesome. Thank you.’
“She replied in Danish. We didn’t understand what she said but the message on her face was crystal clear: They weren’t samples. We’d just polished off the scraps on someone’s used plate that was just sitting there. We’d been eating someone’s leftovers.
“The bakery lady was mortified for us. I think I was still chewing. I didn’t know what to do. But like a true master of improvisation, Gideon looked at me and said, ‘I didn’t get a word of what she said, did you?’ And I of course agreed. No clue what she’d said.”
I can’t stop laughing. None of us can. Marcus is laughing so hard my notebook slips off his lap.
“Then what happened?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Bas says. “We took our croissants and walked out of there.”
“And almost missed the train because we couldn’t pull it together,” Gideon says, grinning. “Those were good chocolates.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that,” I say.
“You don’t want to know every story.”
“If they’re that funny, I do.”
“Same,” says Marcus.
Bas and Gideon look at each other like they’re both running through mental catalogues. “Tell the one about your armor and the German guy,” Bas says.
Gideon lets out a big, surprised laugh. “Oh, yeah. That’s a good one.”
It’s the first of several stories, and each is funnier than the one before it. We laugh until we ache. We add to “Reasons” if something fitting comes up along the way.
My eyes start to burn for sleep, but I don’t want to miss out. Burrowing under Gideon’s arm, I shut them and listen.
Their voices are so different, capturing exactly who they are as individuals, but they make a chorus that’s as comforting as Gideon’s solid presence and the campfire’s warmth. I’m almost totally relaxed when I hear the horses—all four—let out short, sharp snorts.
Everything stops as we scan the woods for what alarmed them.
“Harrows.” Bas shoots to his feet, setting off an explosion of motion. The guys reach for their weapons. I grab my backpack, thinking of the orb.
“Do you hear them?” Jode asks.
The horses have all wheeled to face in the same direction. I look where they’re looking, concentrating. I listen for the wind that precedes them. For their bloodthirsty howling. I look for their quick movements and ragged cloaks. The flash of teeth and claws. I can’t hear or see anything.
There. I see movement in the darkness.
But it’s not the Harrows approaching.
It’s Samrael.