The silence thickens even more. I feel it settling into my bones. The sound of the horses' hooves seems loud. So does my own breathing. And every shadow reminds me of the Harrow, with its spidery speed and agility. Its depthless eyes and raspy voice, speaking in riddles.
You won't succeed until you fail. You won't win until you lose.
I don't know what it meant but I'm not losing. I'm not failing.
A dull ache has settled at the base of my skull, just like the last time I came here. It's more pressure than it is pain, but it's still distracting. I have to force myself to stay focused.
Cordero's briefing had a section on identifying signs of human presence. Any tracks, broken branches, or scratches in tree trunks are worthy of investigation-but as we ride I don't see anything.
Until the flowers.
As soon as I spot the sprinkling of begonias up ahead, I'm struck like a music cymbal. A tremor rolls through me. My hands start to shake and Shadow snorts, sensing my unease. The petals are brighter in the gloom than I remember, glowing from some internal source, like Lucent.
"You okay, D?" Marcus asks.
They've stopped with me-even Gideon, who's been avoiding me all day.
My cheeks start to burn under his gaze. Last fall I told him about my mother, and I know he's thinking about that conversation right now. As tense as things are between us after last night, I still feel connected to him. The bond between us may be damaged, but at this moment it feels indestructible. Crisis-proof. Or maybe crisis-bonded.
"I'm fine." I cue Shadow. "Let's keep going."
We ride on, and my heart riots inside my chest as I see that the flowers make several paths that curl through the trees in different directions. I want to break into pieces so I can follow them all.
Is my mom at the end of one of them? I need to see her again. I need to apologize and tell her that I love her and I'm sorry I left her.
Beside me, I hear the hiss of Marcus dragging the blade of his scythe across the earth, leaving a groove to mark our direction. He settles the staff on his shoulder, the blade curving behind him like a steel wing.
"Daryn," he says.
"Yeah, what's up?"
Gideon and Jode have pulled slightly ahead.
Marcus runs his free hand over his close-shaved head. "The headache you said you got last time. I have it."
"You do? Have you had it since we got here?"
"No. Just started."
"Ho-halt," Jode says in front of us.
Something is nestled in the white flowers in the distance, something glaringly different from the trees. I don't even think; I vault from the saddle and run. Gideon is beside me in seconds. He reaches over his shoulder to unsheathe his sword.
"What the hell?" I hear him say as we reach it.
The silver car is nestled in the tangle of roots between two close-set trees. It's an older-model Mustang, dented and scratched. With tinted windows and Chicago license plates. The driver's-side door is open. Inside, the darkness is deeper but I can see that it's empty.
Gideon slowly paces around it. "Why this?" he asks when he's circled back to me. His blue eyes are honed with intensity.
"I don't know. I have no idea." How do you explain a car here in the Rift? Parked like it's been here for ages? And it's not just any car. It's the one Marcus was driving when we found him in the Mojave Desert last fall. Marcus fled home in this car.
Gideon's gaze moves to Marcus and Jode, who are riding our way. "Shit."
Marcus dismounts. He stakes his scythe in the earth and strides up, his face emotionless. He reaches out slowly and rests his hand on the hood, like he needs to be sure it's real. I notice the shudder that rolls through his broad shoulders.
The Mustang looks as real as anything can ever be, solid and tangible. But it projects a presence too, like it's a living thing that's only dormant.
Marcus's expression darkens as he stands with his hand on the hood, and I can almost see the memories playing in his mind. This car is a reminder of one of the worst times in his life.
Last fall, Marcus told me he'd taken it from one of the five guys who had beat him to death-which had led to him coming back as Death. He had attacked the guys first. But he'd been retaliating on behalf of a friend who'd been assaulted by them-a girl. Brutalized by all five. I have nightmares about what he went through. I can't imagine how he feels. Not to mention his friend, the girl who suffered more than either of us. And who undoubtedly still suffers. Marcus had been driving for days when we found him. Out of money. Stranded in the desert. Terrified by what he'd become. Death.