Seeker (Riders #2)(75)

But we're going.

In two days, we'll reach Samrael at Gray Fort, the small fortified settlement where he and Bas have been living. At which point I'm not sure what happens.

Jode and I talk to Samrael? Make some kind of determination about whether he's worthy enough to leave here?

I'm not sure how to get that done.

How do you judge character? Literally judge it?

How do you ascribe some quantifiable metrics to a person's morality?

Yes, you scored in the seventieth percentile for kindness, but you're in the twenties for lying. I'm very sorry. You need to stay.

How does that work? And when did Jode and I become the morality police?

I can't fool myself, though. The real weight of responsibility falls on me. I control the orb. I'm the gatekeeper, whether I want to be or not.

Bas continues. "We saw Shadow on the ice-but I'd felt her before that." He pats her as he talks. I'd forgotten how he likes to tell stories. It's been too quiet without him. "I knew you were close, right girl? But then we saw Jode and Gideon across the lake. I was so happy I couldn't even speak. I lost it, right there. Rael and I agreed that he should let me come to you alone first, so I could explain things. He turned back, taking my horse. My normal horse. Did I tell you we have those? Not many. Just a few. Anyway, I rounded the lake and found Shadow, and then you guys. I would have come straight for you across the ice, but I knew it was a haunting. I wouldn't have been able to help."



       
         
       
        

"Whoa-hold on," Jode interrupts. "A haunting?"

Marcus and I lock eyes.

"Yeah. The changes that happen in this place? It's like this is a giant stage with moving parts and trapdoors and special effects. It can do anything. Jumble up your thoughts and spit them back at you. It's crazy. Like a nightmare that's real. I hate it. But not all the hauntings are bad. Some can be pretty cool. I've actually been through a few that are really beautiful."

"Really?" Jode says. "You've had good hauntings?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't ask me how they happen because I don't know. They just do. Anytime, too. There are no rules here. Anything goes."

Gideon's hand tightens on my hip. I don't like the sound of that, either.

"What about the Harrows?" Jode asks. "The cloaked spectral creatures?"

"Oh, those. I really hate those. We call them the Lost, but I like 'Harrows.'" Bas nods to himself. "Yeah. It fits them better. There are more of them near Gray Fort. Rael thinks it's the life in us. They're drawn to it. We'll need to be extra careful as we get closer. But don't worry. I'll get us there."

We're all worried. Every one of us.

* * *

The Rift treats us to more of our personal relics as the day goes on.

"They're like mini-hauntings," Bas says when we ride past an upside-down bicycle with spinning wheels. "Not as large-scale but they'll still mess with your head."

We continue our routine of claiming the item and providing some background. A bizarre sort of show-and-tell.

The bicycle is Bastian's. A favorite bike he left behind in Nicaragua when he moved to the States as a kid.

Marcus claims a plain bookshelf with a few binders, tattered books, and trophies, and a football encased in thick acrylic given to him by a coach that he describes as "all right."

The old Jeep with peeling paint is Gideon's, which we all know. It's the Jeep he was going to fix up with his father.

"That one's mine," I say, as we come to a big velvet couch with deep cushions and a dozen pillows piled all over it. The color of the couch is "goldenrod." I know because I helped my mom pick it out. "That's my mom's favorite spot in our house. It's right in front of a big bay window in our family room. The afternoon sun pours right onto it and makes the fabric feel so warm. It's impossible to stay awake on that couch in the afternoon."

This sets off a chain reaction of yawns and wistful glances at the couch. We're all in need of a good night's sleep.

As we file past it, a pang of nostalgia hits me. Josie and I did our movie marathons plunked on that couch on the rare occasions she actually slowed down, and wasn't driven by her responsibilities at school, cross-country, or home. We'd bake chocolate-chip cookies and binge-watch The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, or Star Wars. Every film and television adaptation of Jane Austen's novels ever-which is a lot. 

I loved those weekends.

The desire to go home pulls at me again. I want to see the look on my sister's face when I show up after a year and a half away. Mom's face. Dad's. I want to see Isabel and Maia. I want to see Ben and Sophia and Soraya. I want to see Jared Suarez. I want to run track again. Sit in classes like Statistics and Geology, learning things I'll probably never need to know again. The pull of a structured life is like a hook caught in my chest.