It's not just hearing the words from Gideon's mouth that's soul-crushing; it's seeing the hatred in his face. The coldness.
"You're full of lies," Marcus says.
"I'm not. It's the truth," says one.
Another adds, "You know what else is true? I'm going to kill you." He slices the air with the sword, two quick slashes to underscore the words. "Are you going to fight back? You'll lose. You'll only make it worse. You'll get Daryn hurt."
"Marcus." I step in closer. My shoulder presses against his chest and I can feel the way his heart is hammering. "They won't attack us."
"No?" says one of them.
All at once, they lunge forward, a savage blur of steel and physical force.
It's so fast. Marcus doesn't have time to swing the scythe. Maybe he can't make himself do it.
We turn in to each other, responding to some primitive instinct to huddle, protect, and be close. Then I feel it. Bright, piercing pain. Pain like lighting bolts. I feel every one of the dozen swords slashing through me. Cutting through my arms, my thighs, and my heart.
Marcus jolts in my arms-or it's me-or it's both of us. The pain is complete and it lasts lifetimes. I want it to end, to finish-or for it to finish me. My legs shudder. My mind shudders. And still, I hear their yelling and their taunts.
"I'll destroy you, Marcus!"
"You're pathetic!"
They come from every direction, relentless and bloodthirsty.
Then, suddenly, silence rushes in. Roaring silence.
Faintly, I hear myself gasping for air. Marcus, huffing by my cheek. The pain washes out of me with every breath. With each one, I feel stronger.
"Are they gone?" My voice is a croak. Marcus's arms are like slabs of concrete around me. He loosens them and we step back-and my balance wavers.
Neither one of us has a scratch, but my stomach's churning. My legs feel unsteady. Shaky and undependable.
The clearing is empty. No one else is here anymore.
"Marcus-" I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. "Gideon would never say that. He'd never say those things."
Marcus puts his hands on his hips and drops his eyes. I can still see the pain in him. The doubt is coiled in his body. The hurt is.
"He wouldn't, Marcus. He'd never even think them."
He looks up. "You don't know what's in his head."
"But I know I'm right."
"You're saying that to protect him. He could be thinking everything we just heard. It could be what he's always thinking. He could be-"
I step close and look right into his eyes. "No. Don't let this place ruin your friendship. Don't let it poison your heart. Gideon loves you, Marcus. Maybe he's never said it outright, but-" But what, Daryn? "But he's never said he loves me either, and-" And what, Daryn? "And I know that he likes me, at least."
A smile lights in Marcus's eyes. "At least." He shakes his head. "Daryn … " He looks around the clearing slowly. "I don't want to doubt him."
"Then choose not to."
"You think you choose what you believe?"
"Yes," I say without thinking. Without knowing whether I mean it. I just need him and Gideon to stay good. I need it desperately. We all do, in order to find Bas.
He wraps his hand around the staff of the scythe and pulls it out of the ground, setting it on his shoulder. "We should go back."
We're quiet on the walk. I can't help worrying about where this will lead. We're being haunted. We've managed to stay together so far and unaffected by the stress, for the most part. But I can't see that lasting. The Rift will change us if we stay here long enough. It could destroy us, I think.
Which makes me think of Bas, who's been here eight months.
How has he survived the Rift?
CHAPTER 24
GIDEON
As soon as Riot and I go under, my heart stops and cold clamps down on my muscles.
Chaos swirls around us. Ice slams at us like bricks. There's no way to see through bubbles and black churning water.
When Riot yanks away from me, my arms don't respond, won't do what they're supposed to, and I can't hang on to him.
He surges away. Surges down, sinking. His legs thrash, trying to gallop underwater. Gallop up, to the surface. To me.
But he drops like an anchor.
The flames on his legs go out first. Then his body. His mane and tail, last.
My horse goes dark like a sinking ship losing its lights.
He disappears.
I know I can't yell out loud so I hold it in, which makes it sound terrible. Like a sob.
I kick and dive, but my legs have no strength and my arms are even worse. White spots burst before my eyes. My lungs start to convulse. I need air.