"Hah. Even when I'm there, I wouldn't call what they do 'dancing.'" Franklin Ranch is a high-end resort for city slickers who want to ride horses and fly-fish in the summer and ski in the winter. Isabel waits tables there and I work in the children's program, which means walking little kids around the indoor arena on ponies, teaching them to rope calves, aka stuffed teddy bears, and doing crafts with them. It's not my life's passion but it gets me out of the cabin and I needed something after earning my GED in December. Being a shut-in who does nothing but read and watch the snow level rise sounded great at one point but I only ended up marinating in regret all day. Working with little kids and horses keeps you "in the moment," as Iz likes to say. It's helped.
It's Tuesday night, though. Square-dancing night. The staff is encouraged to come to the ranch and pair up with guests, since they don't know the steps. Isabel and I usually dress up in Old West clothes and lend a hand for a few hours-and earn a little extra cash. The season's just started but I've already allemanded and do-si-doed with way too many thirteen-year-old boys. It's agony. They smell like hormones, sweaty gym clothes, and Axe products. And they don't know where to look. That was one thing about Gideon. He always looked right at me with those soulful blue eyes, like he had a secret he couldn't wait to tell me. Like he couldn't wait to hear mine.
That look terrified me. But I also loved it.
"So? Will you come?"
"To square dancing?" Come on, Daryn. Focus. Just a few more minutes. "I'm going to pass. Still kind of tired from driving so much. I'll come next week when I'm back full-time."
"Okay. I'll let them know." Isabel dries her hands with a towel and passes it to me, then watches me as I dry mine. Rain hammers at the window, warping our reflections in the glass. "I'm worried about you."
"I know. But don't be. I'm fine." I need her to believe me. Then stop wringing the dish towel, Daryn. "Really, I'm fine. Seeing the guys stirred up some of the old stuff, that's all."
"I can imagine you miss them even more now."
"Yeah." Everything is sharper since I saw them, not just the "missing." The longing and the guilt have ratcheted up. And the emptiness in me, the part of me that used to be fulfilled by the Sight.
"Keep being patient. You'll know when it's time to move forward."
"Right." I hope that sounds less glib to her than it does to me. I've waited for a vision to show me the way forward for almost eight months. Patience has gotten me nowhere. The time to move forward is now-even if I don't have the assurance of knowing what's coming.
"Okay." Isabel nods, like it's settled. She takes her heavy coat off the hook by the front door and pulls it on, then tucks her purse under her arm and pulls the door open. Rain blows in, pushing back her hair and her coat like she's at the helm of a ship. She looks at me just before she steps outside, and I see it. The sadness that's probably on my face, too. This is the first time we're lying to each other. We're both holding something back.
* * *
In my room, I open the trunk at the foot of my bed and push aside my old running shoes and the dozens of letters I've written to Mom, Dad, and Josie and never mailed, unearthing my backpack from the bottom.
This battered leather bag traveled the world with me as I drifted from place to place guiding the lost. Protecting the small. Connecting those who needed help with those who could offer it. I loved what I was until the Kindred came along. I'd always done good with my Sight up until that point.
Unzipping the main compartment, I remove the blue oxford I permanently borrowed from Jode in Norway and unwrap the orb from the soft material, my heart squeezing tight as the memories threaten to flood back.
This sphere is small, only about the size of an apple, but infinitely layered with colors and depths, with skies and suns and seas swirling and dancing within it.
Beautiful.
Immeasurably so.
And incredibly powerful.
This orb is the key that opened the realm and started everything.
After Bas disappeared and Gideon was hurt, I spent weeks curled up on my bed staring at it, reliving those awful moments in painful detail. I kept seeing Gideon's face when Bastian was stung by the demon Ronwae. Seeing Bastian's face as he sacrificed himself to take down Samrael, sending them both to a place that I can only imagine. Seeing Jode and Marcus looking like they'd lost part of themselves. But lately when I look at this orb I don't feel remorse. I feel outright panic.
I brush the glassy surface, running my thumb across the crack that appeared two weeks ago.
I'm not sure what this is-this fault line or tear-but little by little it's been growing deeper and longer. That can only mean one thing: Time is running out.