Seeker (Riders #2)(28)

And maybe Daryn. I wonder if being a Seeker gave her this feeling of wholeness, which she'd have lost without the Sight. Brutal.

Bas, too. Without Shadow, he's gone without this for a long time.

Do you think Sebastian is like that, too? Wherever he is in the Rift, do you think he's as scared as Shadow was just now? As broken?

It's both my thought and Riot's. But I know we're all thinking it. Jode and Marcus, too. Lucent and Ruin. We're all feeling this worry, no way to fix it, no immediate way to get to someone who needs us, so. We do this to make ourselves feel better.

We fly.

It almost works.





CHAPTER 11

DARYN

I find Maia waiting for me when I step out of the stable after getting Shadow settled.

"Is she okay?" she asks, adjusting the machine gun-rifle?-on her back as we walk. I never see her without it. I'm starting to think it's her equivalent to my notebook.

"She'll only be okay when we find Bas, but under the circumstances, yeah. She is."

"She's so pretty and badass. She's my favorite of the four horses. Don't tell Marcus."

"She's your favorite?" I smile. "Thanks. Mine, too. And I won't tell."

Maia escorts me to a meeting that's been called at the command center. Along the way she points out the sections of Corderoville-my term, not hers. There are the living quarters where the motor homes are lined up, and where Maia informs me we'll be sharing an RV. The supply zone, where semis loaded with provisions are parked and where the generators hum in the desert quiet. The real highlight, though, is the structure at the center where we end up-a kind of deluxe pop-up shelter.

It's the biggest thing out here, constructed of steel supports and pieces that look like heavy canvas, covered by a metal roof that shines as brightly as the sun. It looks modern and expensive, like something out of a futuristic film. It instantly annoys me.

I don't know why we need all of this. All we need are the horses and the orb-which is in Cordero's possession. Which annoys me even more.

Giant Travis Low stands at the entrance with a wad of tobacco tucked into his lower lip. I don't realize I'm shaking my head in frustration until he pulls the door open for me and says, "Let 'em have it, whoever it is."

"Right?" Maia points a thumb at me. "We're friends and roommates so I'm safe."

"As long as you don't snore," I say.

Low likes this. He splits a grin and offers his knuckles. I knock mine into them, feeling like I've fist-bumped a cement block.

Inside, people are still plugging in extension cords and setting up laptops, printers, whatever. A power drill whines as it tightens screws. The people doing the work are single-minded, seeing nothing beyond what's in front of them.

A couple of tables have been pushed together at the center. Cordero is at the head, speaking in a slow, methodical voice to the entire team like she's delivering a presentation to the board of directors. She sees me as I take the empty seat between Marcus and Maia but she keeps talking, not missing a beat.

No, no, no. Don't wait for me to start, Cordero. I'm only the one who controls getting us into the Rift.

Carry on.

I listen for a little while. Her report covers this location. What can be expected from the weather-warm days, cold nights. Wind. Possible stray thunderstorms. Blah blah blah, we're not going on vacation, so why does this matter? She describes the security. There are teams at all of the main access points into the valley; drones will monitor everything else. We don't need to worry about planes, since this piece of land is an annex to an Air Force base a hundred miles south. Call me crazy, but I wasn't worried.



       
         
       
        

She's clearly proud of this place. Of having pulled this together. I struggle to care. I should care. But seeing as how this meeting started without me, and would have happened whether I was here or not, it's not easy.

My attention wanders to Isabel. Is she at the cabin? Waiting tables at the ranch? On her way to Peru on some other task as a Seeker?

Then it wanders to Gideon, who's sitting right across the table, tipping back in his chair.

I haven't had a chance to look at him, really do it, but now that we've reached a peace accord of sorts, I feel I can.

He's wearing a black baseball cap turned backward and I notice his honey-blond hair is long enough to peek beneath his ears and that his nose is pink with a light sunburn. He's gotten more muscular through the shoulders in the past few months. Broader. Not husky, but definitely stronger. That, and the newfound experience in his eyes, makes him look older.

I wonder if he runs or lifts weights, and if so, if it's tougher to do with his prosthetic or if it makes no difference.