Authors: Veronica Rossi
Riders (17 page)
“Come on over,” I said. “View’s nice.”
The footsteps came fast—
scuff, scuff, scuff
—a flat-out sprint. I spun, caught a glimpse of a dark form blurring toward me. There was no way to dodge aside. To the side was air. I sank down, bracing, and swung the iron.
I didn’t get in a full swing before he crashed into me. As I flew back, I locked my free arm into his—if I was going over so was he—and we went airborne.
It felt like we fell for a year, but it couldn’t have been more than a second. We did a three-sixty in the air. I saw a flash of dark eyes. Death grabbed hold of my shirt and threw his fist at my face, but I didn’t feel it. We crashed into rocks—a punch I felt everywhere. I couldn’t believe he was hitting me
as we were falling.
But that could’ve been because I was hitting him, too.
We went airborne for another second, then struck rock again. My shoulder took the brunt of our combined weight, pain exploding in my socket, rattling all the way down into my hand. My grip gave and the tire iron clanged away.
Our fall descended a few more levels before the slope decreased, putting us into a tumble. I took a hit to the temple that blacked out my vision for an instant. My hands found his neck and I pulled him into a chokehold. But then his fist smashed into my ear and stunned me, and I let him go. When we finally reached flat terrain we flew apart and came up lunging. I remembered a takedown I’d learned in combatives training and tackled him. I thought I had him down, but he buried his knee into my stomach and flipped me onto my back.
We went on like this for a while. Beating the hell out of each other. Part of me was surprised as it was happening. I didn’t lose fights. In RASP, we’d do this thing called the beef circle, where the cadre would get the class circled up and we’d battle it out, man-to-man, clearing the air of any animosities building up between us with some grappling. I almost never lost in those, even against the bigger, older guys. I’d get worked over pretty good. But I never tapped out. I’ve just always had another gear in a fight.
But, Death. He was strong and fast and
relentless
. Even when I’d manage to pin him, I couldn’t keep him there. He was ferocious and I was taking a beating, but it only spurred me on. Because seriously? I was
War
. My pride was on the line.
“Stop!”
Daryn’s voice broke into the night. “Gideon! Marcus!”
We flung ourselves away from each other, a human supernova. Panting for breath, standing at a safe distance, we eyed each other. He stood awkwardly, favoring his left leg. I was favoring the entire right side of my body. My ears rang. My knuckles throbbed. Blood gushed from my nose and ran into my mouth.
Sebastian stood next to Daryn, looking concerned.
I leaned over and spat onto the dirt. “You
knew
his
name
?” I asked her.
At the same time Death, Marcus, said, “How do you know my name?”
I took him in at a glance—black, my height, ripped. Hair as short as mine, shaved almost to the scalp. Worn-out clothes. Cuff on his wrist. A pale cuff—that was all I could tell. Right guy, unfortunately.
“I’m sorry about him,” Daryn said.
I looked at her.
Him
was
me
? She was apologizing to Death about
me
?
“We just came here to talk,” she continued. “We didn’t mean to scare you or to
get.
Into. A
fight
.”
She said the last part like, Gideon is
ruler
. Of. The
idiots
.
“Who are you?” Death asked her.
“I’m … I’m Daryn. Marcus, I think you’re…” She glanced at me, then at Sebastian, clearly struggling to explain. How often did she have to do this? Fit the incredible into words? “You’re involved in something that we know about.”
“Nuh-uh.” Marcus shook his head. “You don’t know
nothin’
about me.”
“Just shut up and listen to her,” I said.
“Man, who’re you telling to shut up?”
His tone. The hatred in his eyes as he looked back at me. I couldn’t accept them.
I charged him. He backed away, dodging aside.
Why?
Why dodge now?
Then I realized I’d made a huge mistake.
A cold burn seeped into my fingers and my feet. It spread through my hands like ice water moving into my arms and legs. I locked up. The ground beneath me began to pull away, and a crack split across the desert soil. It went wider and wider, showing a gap in the earth that was endless. My shoes perched on the edge. Any breath I took, even the slightest twitch, would send me over and I’d fall. I’d never stop falling.
I started shaking, quaking down to my bones. I’d never shaken out of fear before but my body rang like a bell, totally beyond my control.
“Gideon?” Daryn’s voice was far away. “Marcus, stop!”
This was it. Death’s ability.
Fear.
I considered opening up the rage floodgates on him, but what good would it do to make him more aggressive?
Daryn was yelling for him to stop. She took a few steps toward Marcus, then staggered and came to her knees. She clutched her stomach, hugging herself, and started to rock. “No,” she said. “No, no, no. Please, no.”
Anger consumed me like nothing I’d ever felt before. Burning rage that shot through my cold, shaking muscles. The ice that had trapped me splintered, no room for it anymore. Not with the rage roaring through me. The crevasse disappeared in front of me, sealing closed, and I felt power—true power stirring inside me. A singular purpose. Determination to do what was right, what was necessary—and what was necessary right then was to help Daryn.
And I felt something else, too. Something in my hand that hadn’t been there a second ago.
A sword.
In my training in the Army, I’d been exposed to a variety of weapons. Rifles. Handguns of all makes and models. RPG launchers. I’d shot a fifty-cal a few times—now, that’s a weapon. The fifty’s
legit
. So I think you can understand, Cordero, when I say that a sword was a little disappointing.
Sword fighting was fine in the movies, for gladiators or fighting trolls or whatever. But actually using a sword in combat? Nope. It felt tardy by a couple of centuries. Of course I’d just been in an epic fistfight, but everyone knows fisticuffs is a timeless art. Point is I wasn’t thrilled about the sword, but it was better than no sword, so I rolled with it.
In about a millisecond, I assessed the weapon in my hand. It was made of the same metal as my cuff—smooth, putting off the red halo of light—and the style was a mix of modern and old, a sort of a sleek claymore. Kind of cool-looking.
The fear-hold Marcus had over me had fallen away completely by then. Same for Daryn, who had stopped rocking. Bastian helped her to her feet. Seeing that she was okay, I turned my focus to making Marcus pay.
I stepped toward him, doing a badass figure eight in front of me, which I’d perfected with a lightsaber when I was seven and thankfully could still do. Part of me wanted to psych him out a little. The other part of me wanted to get a feel for the weapon. The sword wasn’t weightless, exactly. It was just weight that felt known, like lifting my arm or my leg. Even stranger was that it didn’t feel like I was gripping the sword, but more like the sword was gripping
me.
“You want to mess with me, Death?” I said. “Let’s go!”
Daryn looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Gideon, what are you
doing
?”
I didn’t have a chance to answer. Marcus had just produced a scythe. It materialized in a dusty swirl, extending from his hand to the desert earth.
A freakin’
scythe.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Wasn’t Death—the Grim Reaper—always shown with a scythe? Still, this was the first one I’d ever seen in person and let me tell you—a staff with a massive curved blade at the end? Terrifying. This was no ordinary scythe, either. The thing glowed in the night, soft like the moon, but it put off enough light to illuminate Marcus’s face. His eyes were steady and cold. Pure glacial fury. All for me.
He extended his arm to the side like
Looky here, asshole
.
I’ll see your sword and raise you a scythe.
A cautious man would’ve backed off. Not me. Yielding would basically have told him he’d won
.
I was tougher and I’d prove it. If it cost me a limb, screw it.
“You really want to take on War?” I shrugged. “All right.”
“What did you say? You’re
War
?”
“Yes, he did.” Daryn said. “Now put your weapons
down
. Both of you.”
With no warning, Marcus swung the scythe in a low, sweeping arc. The thing had range, clearing eight, nine feet around him. The blade came to within about a foot of Daryn. She stood without even flinching as the sickle sliced past her, but I practically threw up my heart. I was moving before I knew it.
I shot at him while he was still on the backswing, avoiding the business end of the weapon. The scythe wouldn’t be a close-range weapon. If I could get inside, I’d be safe from the blade.
Marcus had anticipated my move, and brought the back end of the staff at me. I saw it coming and blocked with my sword. The sound as the two weapons met was deep. Thundering. A roar I felt in my chest. The collision point sent off sparks, a burst of brightness in the dark. We kept going, dealing and receiving blows. Neither of us was very good then, at that point, but what we lacked in technique we made up for in passion.
I was in the middle of a follow-through when the strength left my legs suddenly.
Wham.
Fast. One second I was getting ready to tee off on Marcus’s face, the next I was on my back staring at the thunderheads above. My sword thudded out of my grip. I hadn’t even known I
could
let it go.
I turned my head to look for it. That small action took all the energy I had. The sword rested on the desert soil only a few inches from my fingers. I wanted it back, but I was never going to be able to reach it. I had nothing left. Lifting a car over my head would’ve been easier. Straining to look to my right, I got a glimpse of Marcus’s shoes. He was sprawled on the dirt next to me.
Daryn walked up with Sebastian. She crossed her arms, looking down at me, her blond hair blowing in the storm winds. Her expression was disappointed and more than a little pissed off. “How long will they be this way?”
“I don’t know,” Sebastian said. “Maybe a few hours? It could be longer. It’s the first time I’ve wiped anyone out this strongly. This is awful. I can’t believe I did this.”
“They weren’t going to be any help to us dead. Anyway, I asked you to.”
They kept talking, but their voices sounded farther away. Sleep was calling to me. No. Not sleep. Exhaustion. Fatigue. A huge
lack
was yawning open inside of me. Lack of strength. Lack of hope. Lack of joy. My body felt brittle, a million years old. And fragile. Like my limbs were made of glass threads.
A fat drop of rain landed on my forehead. Another on my forearm. Painful drops. Sharp as rocks.
“It’s starting to rain,” Sebastian said. “Should I pull the Jeep up? I can probably get them both inside.”
“Sure, let’s,” Daryn said. “But no need to hurry. A little rain won’t kill them.”
They left us there.
Above, the clouds pulsed with light, electricity splashing across the night. It was just me and Death now, getting pummeled by raindrop meteors.
And the creature, beating its wings as it flew across the stormy sky.
The sun was rising in a clear blue sky when I awoke in my Jeep once again—this time with a pounding headache, my stomach in cramps, and my Giants sweatshirt thrown over me. My body felt like it had been tenderized.
Through the grimy windshield I saw Daryn, sitting on the hood. Her hair was up in a knot and she was talking to Sebastian and Marcus, who stood in front her. I saw no trace of the storm, or of the winged creature.
“I know you guys want answers,” she said, “and I wish I could give them to you. I
really
do. But right now, all I can tell you is that bringing the four of you together quickly is the only way we’ll succeed. As soon as I can, I’ll tell you more. I promise.”
“All right,” Sebastian said, nodding. “We’re almost there. We’ll find Conquest, then play the rest by feel.”
By
ear, I wanted to say.
Play the rest by
ear.
“Man, forget that,” said Marcus. “It’s not all right with me.”
He had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head and his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. His face was in shadow but I saw a cut on his cheek. I hoped his clothes hid a lot more damage, because I could barely draw a breath without talking myself into it first.
Hunkered into his shoulders and with his head slightly bowed, Marcus struck me as guarded and dangerous. And I couldn’t help feeling like by adding him, our team had taken a big step backward. I hoped I was wrong. But I felt like I was right.
“So what then, Marcus?” Daryn said. “Are you going to leave? Ignore your ability, and the fact that you can call a horse from thin air and just go about your life?”
“There’s
horses
?”
“Well, yeah.” Bastian shrugged. “I mean, we’re horsemen.”
“Tell me something,” Marcus said. “Do I look like a cowboy to you?”
“We have to do whatever’s needed,” Daryn said. “If the Kindred—”
“I don’t have to do
nothin’,
” he said.
“Yes, you do,” she pressed. “You do, because right now there are demons out there who are organizing, and if we don’t—” She stopped suddenly, realizing what she’d just said. Then she sighed. “I didn’t want to drop that on you yet. But I guess I just did.”
Sebastian and Marcus weren’t moving. That word—demons—had shocked them both into silence, but I’d been expecting it. I think I’d known from the first time I saw Samrael at Joy’s party, but then there were the bone blades magically summoned at the studio, and the unnatural speed with which they moved. And last night, my little blind buddy. But hearing it from Daryn was still crazy. Having the confirmation. It still hit me hard.
