Stepping from the darkness with a graceful stride. His hands raised to show that he’s defenseless.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. “I’m unarmed.” He looks at Bas, then at me, and then finally at Gideon. “I have urgent news.”
CHAPTER 28
GIDEON
I don’t make a conscious decision to attack him. I just do it.
I lunge for Samrael, my sword grasped in my hand, my shoulders torqued for maximum power.
When I’m at the end of my backswing, something clamps onto the blade.
My shoulder jolts; my sword nearly rips out of my fingers.
Confusion hits me, until I see Bas. He holds the disk on one end of the scales. The other is wrapped around the blade—the blade that should be shearing through Samrael right now.
“No, Gideon!” he yells.
Every fiber in my body demands revenge. I feel insane with it, my vision blurring at the edges. Bas’s voice sounds separate from reality, echoing inside my head.
Samrael has come to a stop, waiting to see what’ll happen next.
Marcus stares at him with murder in his eyes. Jode has an arrow trained on him, glowing and poised to launch.
“I’m going to let go,” Bas says to me. “Don’t do anything … just don’t do anything, okay?”
With a practiced flick of the wrist, like he didn’t skip a beat with the scales in the eight months he’s been here, he unhooks the disk from the chain and releases my sword.
I instantly want to try again. Take another swing. Or throw the sword.
I could hit Samrael.
But Bas is waiting for me to try something. He’s ready to stop me again.
“Jode, Marcus,” I say. “Do it. Finish him.”
Before I’m done speaking, Bas shoots in front of Samrael and spreads his arms, the chains caught up in one fist.
“No! I’m not letting you do this.” He’s decisive, challenging. Aggressive. He was none of those before. “You’re going to have to kill me to get to him.”
I believe him. One thing Bas has always been is selfless. He’d give his life to protect someone. That’s what got him here.
“Gideon, man…” he says. “Just listen to him.”
I look past him, to Samrael. The look in his eyes is emotionless. Like we’re objects to him. Like he’s never felt in his entire life.
Bas wants me to listen? No. I don’t want to hear a word out of his mouth. I want nothing except to skewer his black heart.
“We had a plan, Gideon,” Daryn says. “Remember?”
I don’t remember. Then I do.
But I never agreed to peace talks. I never will.
The wind is rising around us, carrying the Harrows’ soiled fire smell. I can hear their howling now—the hyped-out sound of pack animals on the scent.
A hot, sick feeling rises in my throat. No way I can deny it. We’re in trouble. I have to change gears.
“Ten seconds,” I say. “That’s how long you get.”
“You aren’t safe here,” Samrael says, launching right in. “The Lost are moving toward this location.”
“Harrows,” Bas supplies. “They call them Harrows.”
Samrael nods. “Two bands. Thirty strong each. I saw them from the foothills. There’s no time to waste. You have to follow me. If we leave now, we may be able to lose them.”
“You think I’m going to do that? Follow you?”
“We have a history I regret, Gideon. I hope Sebastian has begun to explain the situation I was in. I hope he’s told you that I … that I want to make amends.”
“Are you giving me my hand back?”
He has no answer for this. The Harrows are coming closer, their cries growing louder. “Ra’om controlled us,” Samrael says. “We were powerless against him. We did what he commanded, or we suffered. You can’t begin to imagine what he was capable of. I understand that you may never trust me. I can’t change what I did. But I know you’ve experienced your own regrets. You know how it feels to wish you’d behaved differently. Perhaps you can understand that.”
I look at Marcus. “Is this piece of shit talking about my dad?”
Marcus’s reply is to swing the scythe through the air, spinning it in front of him, then behind him, and back. The huge sickle blade slicing through the night is impressive. Something you’d see in a performance. But Marcus never does anything for show. He’s loosening up. He’s getting ready.
Samrael glances toward the woods. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to have this conversation now.” He looks at Daryn. “Come with me. All of you. We can discuss this once we’ve reached safety.”
“Gideon,” Bas says. “He helped me. He’s the only reason I’m still alive. You can trust him. If we don’t leave now we’ll be ripped apart. Or Daryn could bring us out of here. But then Samrael comes, too.”
“No,” Daryn says. “I’m not taking you through until I’m sure.” She looks at me. “I’ll open the portal. You guys go through. Get Bas out of here. I’ll stay behind. I’m the only one who needs to be here to—”
“No.”
“Hell no,” Marcus adds.
“Something needs to be decided quickly,” Jode says.
“We need to get Bas out of here, Gideon.”
“We all need to get out of here, Daryn. That includes you.” Why do I even have to say this? What’s she thinking? That I’d be okay with leaving her in here? With Samrael? “And what if the orb breaks?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know.”
The howling grows louder. It’s coming from two directions, like the bands are working together on a flanking maneuver.
“Either we ride now,” Samrael says, “or we die.”
As much as it kills me to admit, it’s true. We’re about to be overrun. Evasion is the only real option. “Let’s get moving.”
Everyone mounts up.
Samrael brings forward two horses—big dapple-grays. There’s a quick discussion between Bas and Daryn that I can’t hear, and then she’s swinging into one of the saddles.
“Daryn, what—”
“If we have to fight, it’ll be easier if we’re not both on Riot.”
True, but I hate the idea. I want her with me or on Shadow, but we’re mobilizing before I know it.
Samrael leads the way, so. I follow him.
A demon.
CHAPTER 29
DARYN
We race through the trees at a breakneck pace. A dangerous pace.
Any stumble or unseen branch could be deadly. But the Harrows are deadly without question, so we ride like our lives depend on it.
My gray gelding is slower than Shadow and the other horses. I lose my spot near the front and fall to the back. Samrael, also on an ordinary horse, drops to the rear of the group with me.
Up ahead, Gideon sees me and tries to slow Riot. The others notice too—Jode, Marcus, Bas—all of them drawing back.
“No! Go! Keep going!” I yell, but it’s useless.
In moments, it’s undeniable: No matter how fast we ride, we won’t be fast enough. The Harrows are closing in. Almost as though they knew exactly the direction we’d take.
When their smoky reek reaches me, I know we have minutes, maybe seconds, before we see them bounding toward us, all sharp claws and depthless eyes.