Cole’s eyes were closed. I would’ve closed mine, but I couldn’t help staring at the Shades coming for us. We were moments away from being swallowed.
“You know how to do this,” I said. “You just have to remember.”
At the possibility that this was the end, I had one thought.
“I love you guys,” I said. I had only an instant to realize, with surprise, that I indeed loved both of them, in their own way.
A rush of cold wind washed over my face.
“Hang on,” Cole said.
Just as the first Shade wrapped a swirl of oil around Jack’s arm, our feet lifted simultaneously off the ground. And then we were tumbling upward, the Shades screaming behind us.
We crashed into the earth, a heap of limbs and torsos. Cole’s arm had fallen across my face. I couldn’t see a thing.
“Ow,” I said.
“Sorry,” he said. He removed his arm, and daylight, real daylight, blinded me. Above me was clear blue sky. I pushed myself up into a sitting position and looked around. We were on a dirt road surrounded by green fields for miles and miles. The land was flat, the horizon distinctly clear on all sides of us. The place didn’t look familiar at all.
“Where are we?” I said.
Cole was sitting beside me. He shook his head as if he had a headache. “I don’t know.”
Jack was already standing. He turned around in a full circle. “I don’t see anything, besides—What are those, cornstalks? No people. No structures.” He looked at Cole and narrowed his eyes. “Where the hell are we?”
Cole frowned. “I’ll tell you where we’re not. We’re not being chased by Shades.”
“The Shades wouldn’t have been chasing us if you hadn’t given up our real plans to Ashe.” Jack’s nostrils were flaring.
Cole didn’t back down. “We wouldn’t have found out anything if I hadn’t followed my instincts.”
“It was a gamble! With my life and Nikki’s!” Jack’s fists were clenched tightly. “If I were placing bets, I’d say you just got away with a nice bit of sabotage back there.”
“Hey, I didn’t have to bring you here. I could’ve just grabbed Nik and zoomed away, leaving you to deal with the Shades.”
“Yeah, we all saw how well you zoom.”
I stepped between them. “Okay, boys, settle down. It wasn’t all for nothing. We saw the Shade network, and Ashe helped us at the very end—he gave us our next step.”
“How?” Jack said.
“He said there was something that could help us.” I looked to Cole for confirmation. “A Cronus Tantalus.”
Cole nodded.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “What’s a Cronus Tantalus?”
Cole and I both shrugged. “We’ll work that out later,” I said. “We’re safe, for now. We just have to figure out where we are.”
Cole looked around too. “This place feels familiar.”
Jack folded his arms. “Can’t you just . . . zap us somewhere else again?”
Cole shrugged, but I actually knew the answer to this one. “He would have to take us to the Everneath again first. And in the shape he’s in, we’re not guaranteed we’d get any closer to home. And not only that, it takes massive amounts of his energy.”
Cole nodded. “Yeah. What she said.”
Jack sighed. “So what did you guys see down there? What did the network look like?”
I explained to Jack about the giant glowing egg-like thing we’d seen Ashe touching, and the Shade convention that seemed to be going on.
Jack squinted one eye in a thoughtful kind of way. “I think I saw something like that in Mrs. Jenkins’s papers.”
“What did it say?” I said.
“I don’t know. At the time, I wasn’t sure a glowing egg would mean anything. The papers are in the back of my car.”
Cole looked from me to Jack and back again. “So, what do we do now?”
Jack sighed. “We start walking.”
“Which way?” Cole said.
Jack squinted as he turned slowly around. He stopped. “There. Something on the horizon. It’s a ways from here, but probably a farmhouse or something. Let’s just hope we’re in the United States. We didn’t exactly pack our passports.”
We started walking toward the black dot. I began to wonder if Cole had ever really been here. It seemed very remote, and cornfields weren’t exactly Cole’s scene.
I watched Jack out of the corner of my eye as we walked. His face was smooth and unruffled, and I was amazed by how well he was dealing with all the crazy. A girlfriend who’d left him to spend a century in the Everneath with another guy. A girlfriend who was always on the verge of dying. A girlfriend who basically had to kiss another guy every night, while all he could do was watch.
It took me only a second to realize—or remember—that all the crazy revolved around me.
Jack saw me staring. “Don’t even think it, Becks.”
“Think what?” I said.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I know that look. It comes in the quiet moments, like this one. I know you’re thinking that this is all your fault and that I would be better off without you. But here’s the thing you need to understand.” He stopped walking and grabbed my shoulders. “You are my peace and my home. You are the everything. The pain isn’t real. The hearts are.”
I held my breath. I blinked rapidly. If I’d had a heart, it would’ve sprouted wings and flown out of my chest and into the blue sky.
“Breathe, Becks.”
I breathed. “How were you ever a football player?”
His lips twitched. “Not all football players are stupid.”
Then the words spilled out, like they always did when my pulse was racing. “But they’re big, and they tackle each other, and they smack bottoms, and say things like ‘pigskin’ and ‘blitz.’”
Jack stepped closer and raised an eyebrow. “And ‘forward pass.’ And ‘holding.’” He wrapped his arms around me.
“Ugh.” Cole made an actual gagging sound.
We both turned to look at him.
“Sorry,” Cole said, looking horrified. “I have no idea where that came from.”
“I do,” Jack said. “I think your natural instincts are getting stronger.”
Cole frowned, and the lines around his mouth became tight.
“What is it?” I said.
Cole tried for a smile, but the effort was faint. “You both have these histories, and you can cling to them at times like this. But me . . . I’m just feeling a little homesick for my memories.”
I glanced at Jack, who tilted his head and nodded. I sighed. “How about I tell you a story?”
Cole stopped walking. “I would love it.”
I nodded again. Memories. So many memories, many of which I would’ve liked to forget forever, such as waking up after a century of Cole feeding on me.
“What do you want to know?”
Cole chuckled. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have this problem. Do you have any memories that would tell me about . . . myself?”
I wasn’t sure I could objectively tell a story about my history with Cole. Every memory was tainted with all the stuff I knew about him now but didn’t know then. Not making things any easier was the fact that Jack was listening, and many of the more positive memories I had of Cole took place during the time Jack was away at football camp and ended with me following Cole to the Underworld. I didn’t think any of those stories were safe.
But I knew other stories. In particular, I knew the memory that had accompanied that first kiss in the courtyard during Creative Writing, when I discovered exactly how Cole would keep me alive. I hadn’t thought about it since then, but now that I focused on it, the entire story came into my head with such clarity, it was as if I’d lived it myself.
“You used to live on a farm, in Norway,” I said. “Imagine a young man working a field.”
1186
The Surface. Norway.
A young man with blond hair raised an iron-shod spade above his head and thrust it downward into the ditch. The summer sun shone behind him, giving his hair a haloed look. During these months the sun wouldn’t set until late in the evening, making the work hours long.
The man was young to be working the fields on his own, and his shoulders ached from the new weight of responsibility placed upon them after his father had succumbed to the fever. As the elder male, the young man took his place in the fields, his younger brother, Edgar, assuming the farm apprentice position that the young man vacated.
The young man set the spade aside and grabbed a pick. He plunged it into the hard dirt, softening the soil as he went.
“Coleson!” Edgar’s voice sounded out of breath.
Coleson looked up to see his sixteen-year-old brother running toward him. He plunged the pick into the dirt and left it there, standing upright.
“Edgar. What’s wrong?” He picked up the spade again.
“They’re coming.”
Coleson stood up straight. He brushed the dirt off his trousers and shook his head.
“Which one did they send for the skora a hólm?” Coleson asked his brother. Skora a hólm. The official challenge to a duel.
Edgar looked down. “Gunnar.”
Of course. Gunnar was the largest of the Hólmgang pack. They’d probably heard of Coleson’s father’s passing. They preyed on the families left behind, who were most vulnerable. It was easy to challenge survivors to a duel to steal their property.
“Hólmgang is supposed to be outlawed,” Edgar said.
“Tell that to Gunnar.”
Coleson stalked off toward the house, throwing the spade aside.
“What are you doing?” Edgar asked. “You might need that.”
Coleson’s frown was set. “No, I won’t.”
He entered the house and reached for the largest satchel he could see. “Mother!” he called out.
A striking woman with long, blond hair braided at the nape of her neck appeared from the kitchen.
“Mother, we’re leaving.”
Coleson set about packing the most valuable items into his satchel.
“What? Why?” his mother asked.
Edgar burst through the door. “Gunnar is coming, Mother. He’s coming for the duel. And if Coleson wins, we’ll get everything Gunnar owns. Those are the rules of the Hólmgang.”
Coleson grunted as he shoved the last of the silver goblets into the satchel. “I’m not fighting.”
Edgar and his mother stared.
“What do you mean?” his mother said.
“I mean if I fight, I’ll lose. And you both know Gunnar’s history. He won’t stop until I’m dead and he has the farm. And then where will you both be?” He shoved a plate into the satchel. As the new man of the house, Coleson knew his first obligation had to be to his family. “No, we take what we can and we run.”
Edgar’s mouth hung open for a moment. “What about family honor? Honor demands that we stay and fight. Without it, we will be shunned everywhere we go.”
Coleson dropped the bag and turned on his brother. “This is not like the brawls that you get into at the tavern! This is sure death.” He grabbed his brother’s hand and brought it to his chest, just above his beating heart. “This is life. No matter if we are on the farm or . . . somewhere else.”
Edgar yanked his hand away. “There is no life without honor. I will not abandon our land. And if you will not fight, then I will.”
Coleson turned toward his mother, who was slowly inching her way toward Edgar. Coleson held out his hand. “Mother. You understand we have to run.”
She shook her head. “I understand this is our home. And we will not flee simply because a band of thugs challenges us for our land. I will stand where your father would stand, were he with us.”
Coleson looked from his mother to his brother and hesitated. It was simple for them to talk about words such as honor when it was Coleson’s life on the line.
His brother would not make the same stand if he really had to fight.
“I’m leaving,” Coleson said. “And you are both welcome to come with me. Or you can stay here and die, with your honor.”
Coleson knew that if he left, his family would soon trail after. Everyone would know that they were forced to follow. That way they would be able to keep their honor. The disgrace would then rest on Coleson alone.
He hoisted the satchel high up onto his shoulder and left, but he did not go far. Instead, he hid out just beyond the trees bordering the Stockflet property and waited. As soon as his mother and brother appeared, he would run to meet them.
But for two days they didn’t appear. The only activity came from a band of four men on horses, who stormed toward the farmhouse.
Edgar came out to meet them, an ax in his hand. Coleson was not close enough to hear any of the words spoken, but he was close enough to see Gunnar’s sword run through his brother’s chest.