Authors: Veronica Rossi
Riders (8 page)
What was really getting old were all the questions piling up in my head. Would I ever get answers?
When?
Why was I making it worse by asking questions about my questions?
We exited onto Highway 1, and the hills opened to blue fields on Daryn’s side, the slate-black Pacific on mine. The ocean worked its magic on me and calmed me down some, just seeing it and smelling it. All that churning life out there.
A few minutes later Daryn slowed down, which surprised me. I’d started to think we were driving through the night. She pulled into a dirt lot with warning signs about no lifeguards being on duty and proceeding at your own peril. Appropriate.
As the engine cooled down, I looked around. There were no other cars in the lot. Nothing to raise alarm that I could see. A hundred meters ahead of us, waves broke against the beach, a white line in the darkness. Fog was rolling in and the crash of the surf seemed strangely muffled. Just yesterday, before Jackson attacked me, I’d been watching the ocean at the end of my street. It felt like a week ago.
“Whenever you’re ready,” I said.
“Do you have any water?”
“To drink?” I was so wrong-footed, and this girl only made it worse.
“Yes, water to drink. I’m really thirsty.” She reached into the backseat, unzipping my duffel, which I’d brought back to my Jeep before Joy’s party.
“Hold on a second.” I grabbed her arm. “You said you were going to explain.”
She froze, so I froze.
“Here’s a question,” she said, staring me down. “Would you like to let go of me, or should I claw your eyes out?”
“Shit.”
I let go of her. “I’m not going to
hurt
you. Why did you kidnap me if you’re scared of me?”
“I didn’t kidnap you—you came willingly—and I’m not scared of you, either. Not the way you think.” She threw the door open and jumped out.
I vaulted over my side, rounded the Jeep, and found her leaning against the door. “Daryn, I didn’t mean to—” She was pressing her fingers into her temples like she’d just been hit with the world’s worst migraine. She looked like she needed a second. That was about as long as I could wait. “I really need some answers.”
“I know you do.” Her hands came down. “I just can’t believe you don’t know anything.”
“Believe it.”
“How am I supposed to explain this to you?”
“With words. That’d work for me. Faster than drawing pictures in the sand with a stick.”
She shot me a look with legitimate stopping power. Then she crossed her arms, turning to the waves, so I took the opportunity to check her out.
It was a calculated assessment for the most part. Pretty much. I was going for clues. Intel that would help me figure out how she fit into what was going on.
What I figured out was that she was on the tall side, five-nine or so, only a few inches shorter than me, and strong. I could tell she was athletic. And pretty. Which I already knew. But reconfirmed. Pretty in a messy kind of way. Sort of camouflaged by tangled-up hair and beat-up clothes. By how still she stood—the opposite of fidgety—and by the intense look on her face, like she was daring you to make eye contact with her. I got the feeling that with a good ghillie suit and the right training, she’d have made a great sniper.
A silver chain hung around her neck. The links were heavy, thick, and disappeared beneath her leather jacket. Daryn looked back at me right as I was looking at her, uh … her chestal region. Because of the chain, Cordero, I swear. But it must’ve seemed different to her. Probably it did.
I expected her to lay into me for it, but she just gave me a super-slow-motion once over, from my running shoes all the way up to my eyes, totally up front about what I’d just done on the sly. “There’s no easy way to say this,” she said.
“Fine. Then say it the hard way. Or the medium way. Just say it.”
I was starting to break a little. My control was.
“Okay.” She looked right into my eyes. “You’re War, Gideon.
You
are
War
.”
I did a quick rewind and playback. “Say again?”
“You’re War,” she repeated.
It sounded the same the second time. “Going to war? Yeah, someday. When I deploy. I’m a soldier in the US Army.” I stopped there for a second because it was still new and it felt good, claiming it. “But I haven’t been to war yet.”
“Okay.” Daryn nodded. She pushed her hair behind her ear. “That’s not what I meant but that does makes sense.”
“No. It doesn’t. Nothing makes any sense and if this is your explanation, then it’s a really shitty explanation.”
“Okay. All right. Gideon … you’re the second rider. You are War, the red horseman. From Revelation.”
As she spoke, my heart squeezed like a fist inside my chest. It kept squeezing tighter and tighter. If heart cramps were possible, I had one.
“None of this rings a bell?” she said. “None of this sounds familiar? You have to have seen some signs … something … haven’t you?”
Every single gear in my mind was grinding and clattering, trying to keep up with what she was saying. I turned toward the ocean. Everything I’d seen over the past week, from my fall to Samrael’s monstrous face, was coming back to me. Revelation? I knew so little about it. What I knew, generally, was that it had always scared me. Wasn’t it about the end times? The Rapture? Plagues and fires?
“Gideon, I know it’s a lot to take in, but—”
“No,” I said, something snapping shut inside my brain. This was a dream. A nightmare. I was Gideon Blake in an alternate dimension. “No, it’s fine. I think I’m gettin’ it. I’m War. I’m one of the four horsemen, which means I have three buddies—help me out here. I forget who they are.”
“Conquest, Famine, and Death.”
A chill shot straight down my spine. I shook myself like a wet dog. “Right. Those guys. And we’re supposed to end the world or something?” I wanted no part of that.
“No. You’re only a manifestation of War. You’ve been given some of the abilities of War, but for another purpose, to carry out a specific task.” She sighed. “I didn’t realize I was going to have to explain all of this. I would’ve thought it through better.”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry you’re having to
explain all of this
to me. If I’m War, what does that make you, Peace? Because you’ve got some work to do.”
“I’m not Peace,” she said simply, and waited for my next move.
My next move was slamming my hands against the door of my Jeep. Stupid thing to do, but the anger and confusion had boiled over inside me and I’d erupted. I’d forgotten about my busted hand, but now I remembered. Now I felt sick, I remembered so well.
Daryn jumped off the car. “Hey! Could you calm down?”
“You just told me I’m
War
. When is war ever calm? Who
are
you, anyway? You show up in my life with a trio of psychopaths chasing you and
this
is how you’re explaining it? You know what? You’re crazy. This entire thing is—”
She shoved me in the chest. The action surprised me. The ferocity in it.
“Don’t ever call me crazy again,” she said, her voice low and shaky. She stood a moment longer, like she was going to say something else. But she didn’t.
She backed away and made for the beach.
It took me half an hour to move from that spot. A full thirty minutes before I went after her. When I found her, things between us didn’t really get any better.
Cordero raises a hand.
I stop and the pine room filters back to me as the beach fades away.
It’s quiet in here. Cordero is legitimately gaping at me. Behind her, Texas and Beretta wear identical you-gotta-be-kidding-me expressions.
“War?” Cordero says. “War, as in the embodiment of the concept?”
“That’s me.” A chemical taste is seeping in my mouth from the drugs. I swallow, but it doesn’t go away. “In the flesh.”
Texas catches a laugh in his throat and tries to cover it with some coughing. Beretta blinks fast a few times. I get the feeling he’s trying not to smack his partner.
Cordero sends them a quick, annoyed glance. She looks back at me and sighs, absently scratching her knuckles. “War,” she says, more to herself than to me. Then she removes a cell phone from her blazer and checks it. “I have to step out, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Her eyes mouth curves. “Don’t move.”
What do you know? She’s got a sense of humor.
“So you piss people off? That it?” Texas says, once she’s gone. His voice is all easygoing drawl, but his posture is rigid and his blue eyes are intense.
“Something like that.”
A grin appears. Half of one. “I’m thinkin’ I got that superpower myself.”
“Hey, kid. The necklace.” It’s Beretta now. Look at that. Cordero leaves and the vibe’s totally different. “The one the girl was wearing. It’s significant, isn’t it?”
It’s an observant question. Impressive, even for a guy who’s probably trained to pick up stuff like that. But I’m not answering without Cordero here.
He tries again. “What’s really going? ’Cause
you
? As one of the
four horsemen
?”
That’s technically incorrect. I thought I was pretty clear about being an incarnation of War. But again. Not taking the bait. “You really want to be the guy that compromises this investigation?”
Beretta snorts. “You mean this fairy tale? But I’ll hand it to you—you got a good imagination.”
Texas tips his chin, already smiling at what he’s going to say. “There’s gonna be horses soon, right? I can’t wait. My family trains cuttin’ horses. Best in North Texas. I’m guessin’ they wouldn’t stack up to War’s horse.”
“Probably not.”
“I’d be disappointed otherwise.” He shifts his weight, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Least tell us what
Death
’s like. We’re dyin’ to know.”
“Good one.” I’m actually starting to like the guy. He reminds me of Cory. “You could find out.”
“Yeah, how’s that?” he asks.
“You brought us in together from Norway. Marcus is right next door, isn’t he?”
Texas shakes his head like
nice try
. He won’t give up any intel either. But even in his silence, I get the sense he’s met Marcus, and that Marcus made a lasting first impression. As he tends to.
These guys aren’t supposed to be talking to me. Or maybe they were, and I failed to give them what they were after. Either way they go quiet, setting up in their positions again like drying concrete. Party’s over.
I’m thirsty again. So thirsty my head’s starting to pound, but as long as my stomach doesn’t get involved, I’m good. My knees ache from sitting in this chair.
Behind me the radiator goes on, giving yet another encore performance.
Tink, tink, tink, tink.
The warmth slowly comes up on my back. Hard worker, that heater. The bulb, on the other hand, is doing a flickering thing, showing some signs of fatigue.
You’re losing, bulb.
Weird that I was in Norway yesterday, probably. Now I’m wherever here is. I haven’t had time to think about Daryn much. Now I do.
She’s gone.
Just freakin’ deal, Blake.
But was I really that easy to walk away from?
The door opens and Cordero enters. She sits down, smoothing her hands along her suit. I’d forgotten about her perfume, but now it’s back. Like getting pelted by fashion magazines. Roses, oranges, lemons, fertilizer. I suppress a cough.
“Gideon? Ready to pick back up?” Cordero says.
I swallow. “Yes.”
But she waits a moment longer, like she’s making sure she believes me. Her elbows settle on the desk and she weaves her fingers together. “You’d gone to find Daryn on the beach.”
“Wait. I have some demands first.”
“We had a deal. I already accepted your demands. You asked for Colonel Nellis. I’ll bring him to you as soon as we’re done. And you’ll be free to go.”
“I have new demands.”
Her lips go flat. “And they are?”
“I need more water. I want my legs untied. And I want to see the guys I came in with.”
“Yes to your first request, no to rest.” She looks at Texas, who picks up the water bottle at his feet and comes forward.
As I drink from the straw I notice him eyeing the cuff. Interesting. Maybe he is starting to believe me.
Back in our positions, Cordero’s ready to go again. “You’d been abandoned on the beach by Daryn. You said an hour passed before you went after her?”
Did I say an hour? Can’t remember. “No. It was closer to half an hour.”
I draw a breath, preparing to wade back into the past. I was so shaken up that night, standing by the Jeep. The muscles in my arms and shoulders had knotted with tension. I remember how the ocean smelled different than by my house. How the fog was growing thicker, like smoke rolling over the beach as I stood there, trying to make sense of what I’d just been told.
I remember Daryn, that very first day.
“Don’t say anything,” I said as I approached her. She was sitting on the sand hugging her legs and watching the waves, her chin resting on a knee. “I don’t want to hear another word.” I didn’t have room for more ridiculous explanations.
“Do I look like I want to talk to you?” she asked, without looking up.
She did not.
“I brought you water.” I tossed a bottle by her feet. “And this.” I dropped my San Francisco Giants sweatshirt next to her. It was cooling down and her leather jacket didn’t look very warm.
She reached for the sweatshirt and pulled it over her shoulders, ignoring the water.
Confusing. She’d been so insistent about her thirst earlier. I stood there for another second, not really sure what I was waiting for. Then I said, “Okay. You’re welcome,” and walked away.
I wanted to head about a thousand miles in the other direction but I went maybe fifty meters. Far enough to have some space, but close enough that she was still visible in the foggy night. The confrontation at Joy’s was fresh in my mind. It was fresh in my body, by way of my broken hand. But even with the fight aside, I wouldn’t have left anyone out there alone. The fact that she was female made it nonnegotiable.
