Jared Suarez is ninja-quiet and calculating. He was a blue-chip high school baseball recruit-a catcher like I was. In a way, it's still Suarez's vibe. When Cordero's not calling the shots, Suarez steps in with the strategy and manages things. With the exception of Jode, who needs to question air before he breathes it, the rest of us pretty much follow Suarez's lead.
After fighting the Kindred with them and spending the past months in Cordero's unit, I have solid history with these guys. Marcus and Jode do, too. The respect and smack talk flow in equal measure in all directions.
As we approach the stalled traffic, Low doesn't slow down. He pulls onto the gravel shoulder and bears down on the gas, sending a hail of rocks and rain into the windshield. Low passes car after car with an expression on his face like he's supremely bored as Marcus and I bounce around like popcorn in the backseat.
When we're past the stalled car that caused the slowdown, I turn around. The other Suburbans with Jode, Cordero, Ben, and the rest of the team are obeying the law and have fallen behind.
"Jode," Marcus says, a smile tugging at his mouth. He won't like being left with the slowpokes.
"That's what he gets for sucking up," I say. But Jode doesn't really suck up. He just happens to be Cordero's favorite because they're extremely compatible. I mean, I'm Cordero's real favorite for sentimental reasons, but Jode's her favorite intellectually. They nerd out regularly by discussing the latest studies in science, technology, medicine. Et cetera. It all sounds the same to me. Like Wikipedia talking to itself.
The phone in Suarez's hand rings. He answers on speaker. "Suarez."
"Hold at a staging location off property," Cordero says. "Ben's sending you the address now. We'll regroup before we approach."
"Yes, ma'am. We were going to wait."
I don't want to wait. I've been waiting months for this already.
"Is that so?" Cordero says. "Then why roar past that traffic like your brakes don't work?"
Suarez looks at Low, who does a bad job of laughing silently. "We wanted to wait at the property."
"Tell Low we're discussing his driving later," Cordero says.
"Yes, ma'am." Suarez hangs up. "Morons," he says, addressing all of us. Then he checks the GPS again, inputting the address Ben sent. "Fifteen minutes out."
I settle back in my seat, trying to relax.
I've thought about Daryn a lot these past months. Pretty constantly. But I didn't focus on how to handle seeing her again. I spent my mental energy imagining that things were good between us instead.
I approached it like a math calculation.
Take away all the times she told you she just wants to be friends because she's afraid she might like you too much. I mean, what? How is that a reason? But it doesn't matter when you're imagining. Minus one confusing excuse-check.
Take away the memory of the look on her face when she saw you with one less hand. Maimed. Incomplete. Don't need that either, so. Get rid of it, too.
Take away the fact that she left one of your best friends to die in a realm with your nemesis. Tougher to delete. More brainpower required but I could get there. I could imagine it never happened.
Take all that out of the equation and what was left was good.
Without it, Daryn and I are incredible in my imagination. Tons of chemistry of all kinds. Physical. Mental. Emotional. Physical. Straight-up chemistry lab. Highly combustible.
I thought it would get old to picture us that way. Didn't happen. Wasn't able to get into hanging out with other girls, either. Anna brought her friends over. Marcus made an effort not to monopolize female attention. But being around other girls felt like killing time before the real deal. Before this.
"G?" Marcus says.
"Yeah, I'm cool," I say automatically. I look at my hands. They're in fists. Flesh and bone on the right, and magnesium alloy on the left. I open them. "Suarez, how close?"
"Five minutes."
Shit. I need a plan.
CHAPTER 5
DARYN
I have to be imagining this-it's the only explanation.
How else could it be possible?
But she looks so real.
So happy and real.
"Daryn, honey. It's me."
"It can't be. You can't be in here."
"I am, Daryn." She rises to her feet and spreads her hands. Like she's waiting for me to come to her, to hug her. Like she has nothing to hide. "It's me."
"It is?" My throat's squeezed up so tight, I can barely get the words out. And I still can't move. After eighteen months, only two dozen steps stand between us-but I can't even take one.
Burbling into my thoughts are memories of Malaphar, the demon that could take the form of others. Who fooled Gideon and the rest of us in the fall. But Malaphar was slain then, and demons can't see into my mind as a Seeker. How would they know about my mom?