Nil Unlocked (29 page)

My time was the only thing he’d taken, and my gut said it was the only thing he’d accept. Valuable, no doubt, but he’d never shown himself to me at noon, a fact that suggested he valued my time, too—maybe even my life.

It said nothing about Maaka’s time, because he had a midnight escape hatch; Maaka didn’t thirst for noons like we did.

So what does he want?

Opening my eyes, I saw only Nil sky.

Skye.

Should I ask her? Get her take on Maaka?
I considered it. She knew Paulo, and he was a solid link to Maaka.

No
, I thought firmly.

Coward
, the sea crooned.

My lids grew heavy under the lull of the sea. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember the timbre of Talla’s voice, just her fierceness and her goodness. Pictures of her rolled through my head, crashing with the waves, bittersweet. For the first time in months, I didn’t block the memories, or the regrets. I let them crash in, all of them, until there were none left to fight. And then I let them go.

My thought as I fell asleep was that while I heard the sea, my last vision was of the sky.

CHAPTER

40

SKYE

DAY 11, PRE-DAWN

I woke before the other girls, slowly opening my eyes to cool Nil air. Light brushed the edges of the sky, just enough to soften the dark. Dawn was close. Curled under my creepy cheetah pelt, I was cozy warm. I didn’t want to move. For a long moment, I listened to the ocean, reveling in the peace of the morning. Like Uncle Scott, I’d quickly found that dawn was my favorite time of day on Nil. Its peace was fleeting, vanishing with the rising sun, so I never took the moment I woke for granted.

Movement caught my eye.

Tilting my head, I had a clear view of the firepit. Rives paced like a caged animal in the dark, his face cut in hard lines of worry, like the first day I’d seen him—but worse.

Much, much worse.

He’d taken Sy’s departure personally, and Michael’s, and if I was right, the whole darn group. Since that moment, something had changed. He’d lost his easygoing edge. A rather frightening intensity had taken its place. Not that Rives was ever sharp or impatient; if anything, it was the polar opposite. It was as if he was determined to single-handedly lighten everyone else’s burden by taking on more himself. He stoked the pit, hauled wood, and brought back fish, keeping his conversations pleasant but short, talking just long enough to reassure someone or help out before he was off to the next task, and the entire time his shoulders stayed tight, on full alert.

You’d think with days like that, he’d sleep well, but from what I’d seen, Rives barely slept at all. He’d taken watch every night, and twice I’d caught him dozing on the beach. His days and nights were flip-flopping fast, but the ratio stayed off. The circles beneath Rives’s eyes grew.

How long could someone go without sleep?

If Rives’s mind was on the predator and City defense, mine was on the stationary gate. But now the two were linked; I felt it. I’d asked Rives about his plan to search for the stationary gate. His answer had come without hesitation, his tone cool and unwavering.

Not yet
, he’d told me.
When the time is right.

All he’d forgotten to add was the
patience, padawan
. But the teasing Rives was gone.

I felt powerless—to help Rives, to help the City. And weirdly enough, I knew that to help the City, I had to help Rives first. Letting him self-destruct could not happen, and yet he’d erected a wall around himself I couldn’t breach. Time was slipping away, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

The peace of dawn was lost, and it hadn’t even arrived yet.

Rives was still pacing.

I reluctantly pushed back my covers and reached for my rock sling. It sat curled beside my pillow, at the edge of my bed close to the open-air sides. Before my hand touched it, I stilled.

Sitting on top of my sling was a braided piece of twine. Dangling from it was a tiny grayed moon, carved from driftwood, delicate and worn. A bracelet, left for me. Kind but disturbing, because it meant
someone stalked me while I was sleeping and I didn’t even notice.

I breathed deeply, fighting a freak-out.

If they wanted to hurt you, they could’ve
, I told myself.
Instead they left you a gift, going out of their way not to be seen.

Paulo
, I thought.

It had to be, and by leaving the bracelet at night, he’d avoided any chance of me asking him more questions or giving him more information.

A gift and a message, both in one.

Now we’re even.

And it also meant he was close. Which meant I had a chance of finding him if I could just figure out where to look. I stared at the mysterious bracelet, debating whether to wear it or leave it alone, then slipped it on next to the tri-shell bracelet from Jillian and Macy. I studied the moon charm, taking in its smooth lines, turning it over to find a small pit in the wood on the backside, a dent I could touch. An imperfection, a flaw.

A clear mental picture blossomed in my brain—another small moon, equally imperfect.

The same crescent moon had been doodled in the margins of my uncle’s journal.

I closed my eyes, mentally sifting through the journal, searching for the entry marked with a crescent moon and wondering what I’d missed. Wondering what clues Uncle Scott had left that I didn’t understand Nil well enough to see.

It was Entry #17.

I remembered it verbatim.

Day 201 in my tropical freakfest vacay. That day stands out for two reasons. It stands out because of two people.

I woke early. The only other person up was Rika. She’d shown up yesterday, but she was on the fence about sticking around. I’d seen enough rookies to know.

I’d asked her the night before if she wanted to carve her name. She’d shaken her head. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”

Now she’d been sitting in front of the Wall of Names for the last twenty minutes, Indian-style, like she was silently singing the Clash song “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” Only she didn’t look like a Clash groupie. She looked more like my island angel’s cousin. Dark hair, big eyes. Distant air. She didn’t move, even when I knelt beside her.

“You okay, Rika?”

“Scott.” She said my name with precision. “You do much. You Lead well. You save many.” She turned to me. “Let me see your eyes.”

“What?” I asked, not following.

She didn’t answer. She grabbed my hands and stared at me, pinning me with a fierce glance that shot through my bones with a creepy chill, which said something, because the island hadn’t shaken me in weeks.

“Your destiny,” she said softly, like some crazy-ass island tarot card reader. “It wraps the island from beginning to end; I feel it. Don’t you? So powerful.” Now she looked shaken. She closed her eyes, her voice dropping to a guarded whisper. “Your time ends when the crescent moon rises over the heart of the island. Remember that.”

Then she got up and walked away, heading out of the City. I watched her go, wondering what the hell she’d been talking about.

“Hey,” I called. “Are you leaving?”

Rika turned around, looking worried. Looking desperate to get away. “Yes. But like you, my journey does not end here. My end stretches beyond, I have seen it.”

With absolutely nothing to say to that, I just waved. I wondered whether the island had driven her nuts, or whether she brought her own brand of crazy to Nil in the first place.

That night Rika’s words weighed on me like bricks.

I stood alone on the beach, watching the sunset, looking for a crescent moon.

Jenny came up behind me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Rika.” I turned toward Jenny, struck again by how beautiful she was. Tangled brown hair, bright-blue eyes, charcoal smudged on her cheek. Rika vanished from my thoughts completely.

I reached up and gently wiped off the charcoal, letting my thumb linger.

“Rika?” Jenny whispered, her eyes on mine.

“I don’t want to talk about Rika right now,” I said. “I don’t want to talk at all.” Slowly, savoring every speck of air disappearing between us, I leaned in and kissed Jenny, drowning in the heat of the moment. That was our first kiss, but not our last.

I never saw Rika again.

But I looked for the crescent moon every night. The last time I saw it was the night before I left.

I opened my eyes, pulling myself out of Uncle Scott’s Nil and into mine.

When the crescent moon rises over the heart of the island
, he’d written. That was the clue, I knew it.

Where was the heart of the island?

Rives
, I thought.
He’d know.

Unfortunately, Rives was nowhere in sight. He’d been replaced by Zane, who was adding wood to the firepit. Sparks glittered with each addition.

“Morning, Zane,” I said.

“Morning, Skye.” Zane smiled. “You always an early riser?”

“Here for sure.”

He nodded. “I get up back home for dawn patrol when the waves call. Here”—he shrugged—“I just get up. It’s hard to sleep knowing something’s out there.” He thumbed toward the woods, where there was just enough light to differentiate the trunks and leaves. The island brightened with each passing minute, making it less scary.

Sort of.

“Do you know where Rives went?” I hoped my mellow tone hid the urgency I felt.

“He went to grab a board.” Zane pointed at the Shack. “You might be able to catch him.”

“Thanks.” I smiled and took off, trying not to run.

As I neared the Shack, I heard voices coming from inside; I recognized Jillian’s soft tone immediately. I slowed, listening for Rives.

“I saw you talking to Rives,” Jillian said. At the mention of Rives, I froze. “How’d it go?”

“Not well,” Dex replied. “He just stared at me with an
I’ll-do-as-I-bloody-well-please
expression. I told him he wasn’t doing anyone a bit of good by trying to do it all himself. But he won’t hear it. He won’t let anyone else take watch.”

“He’s running himself into the ground,” Jillian said, clearly upset. “Sometimes I think he has a death wish. It’s gotten worse since—”

“Rives?” Kiera called from behind me.

Jillian stopped talking immediately.

Since what?
I wondered.

I turned, reluctantly revealing my presence outside the Shack.

“I think he’s by the beach,” I told Kiera. “But if he’s sleeping, let him rest. He’s been up every night.”

Kiera looked at me, her gaze sharp. “How would you know?”

Because I’m up half the night watching him pace. Because I see the weight he carries during the day spilling into the night. Because I can’t bear the thought of him breaking like my uncle.

“I just do,” I said.

Kiera turned around without a word.

Jillian walked out of the Shack and watched Kiera stride away.

“I can’t tell if that girl wants Rives to give her a pass to the front of the gate line or if she just wants Rives,” she muttered. The she smiled at me. “Morning, Skye. What’s up?”

I didn’t want to admit I’d been looking for Rives too. Instead, I said, “Is Jason around? He said he’ll teach me how to fly a glider today.”

“He went to the fish traps. He won’t be back for a while.” She picked up a surfboard as she spoke. “Want to go out with me? This is the best time on the water. Less wind, and you haven’t seen a Nil sunrise till you’ve seen one from the water.”

I hesitated. I’d been honest when I’d told Rives I wasn’t going to drown, but I didn’t love the ocean, either. I preferred the safety of boats.

She cocked her head at me. “Skye?”

I sighed. “I think the ocean’s gorgeous, but I don’t love being
in
the ocean.” I didn’t want to admit that during our swim from the Cove’s cavern I was the most frightened I’d been since I’d landed on Nil, almost worse than the tiger run-in. The fear definitely lasted longer—a claustrophobic fear as the water held me tight. “When I was seven, I got sucked out by a riptide,” I admitted. “I almost drowned. Kinda stuck with me.”

“Oh, you definitely need this, then,” she said, nodding. “Grab that board”—she pointed to the biggest one—“and a paddle.” She turned to me, her eyes shining. “Today’s your lucky day, Skye. Today you’re going to fall in love with the sea.”

CHAPTER

41

RIVES

DAY 288, DEAD OF NIGHT

I was back on watch, again.

I searched the night, like it held answers. Stars winked, the woods stayed silent. No one was up but me.

Bored and restless, I threw my knife at a nearby post, a little late-night target practice. It hit, and stuck.

“Rives.” Skye’s soft whisper blew hot breath on my ear.

I startled.

Damn,
I thought, impressed. No one snuck up on me.

I fought a grin, then lost it completely when I realized I must be more tired than I thought. Or maybe Skye was just that good.

“You’re sneaky,” I said, turning.

Skye stepped back, but not before I caught the satisfaction in her smile.

“I try,” she said. “So”—she paused, her eyes sharp despite the night hour—“why are you the only one taking watch? It’s been seven nights running.”

Eight,
I thought. I shrugged. “I can’t sleep. May as well take watch.” More honest than I’d planned, but when I was tired, it was harder to guard.

She studied me in her calm Skye way. “Is the cat the only thing on your mind?”

“Are you asking if it’s the only thing keeping me up?” I whispered, my eyes on hers, the firelight flickering between us giving me a much-needed adrenaline boost. “Or are you asking if I’m thinking about someone?”