Borderline (The Arcadia Project, #1)(99)

“Oh hey, guys,” I said dryly as they barreled toward us, too panicked even to question our calm. “Those riders aren’t”—they sprinted right by us—“real.”

They managed to make it all the way to town and dive for cover on the porch of a dilapidated hat shop. Caryl and I eventually caught up to them, watching them recover their breath and turn their heads in unison to watch the nonexistent posse gallop by. Gloria winced and coughed as though the horses’ hooves had kicked up dust in her face.

“John Riven, you are a genius,” I muttered aloud. “An evil genius I am going to personally throttle to death if I ever have the good fortune of meeting you.”

The ghost town looked just as it had in the stills from Berenbaum’s postproduction office: at the far end was the clichéd town square complete with an old stone well, a plethora of hitching posts, and a chapel with a decaying bell tower. Stretching toward us from it was a single dusty lane two carriages wide, with saloons and feed stores and mining supply depots and other shops whose signs were too cracked and faded to read.

“Everyone okay?” I asked my comrades as we approached the porch.

“I think my heart actually stopped for a minute,” said Gloria, fanning herself with one hand. “My mouth tastes like an old penny.”

“I f*cked up my ankle,” said Teo. “Didn’t feel it till now, but shit.”

“I broke a nail,” Tjuan deadpanned.

“Okay,” I said. “I think our best plan is for the three of you to search the buildings for the Gate while Caryl and I try to find a wall so we can dispel this ward and see what this place really looks like and where the doors are.”

“What do we do if we find the Gate?” asked Gloria.

“Just shout,” I said. “This place is big, but not as big as it looks, so we should be able to hear you just fine from wherever. Caryl will know what to do once we find the Gate.”

Everyone looked to Caryl. She fidgeted, her hand tightening in mine. “Do as Millie says,” she said, trying for her usual crisp tone and almost managing it. “I am placing her in charge until National arrives next week.”

“Wha—” I spluttered, almost dropping her hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Gloria quickly, the way you do when your boss has gone crazy. “Come on, boys, let’s split up and search the place. And for love of the Lord, Teo, let someone else search the saloon; I don’t want you getting distracted by some magicked-up lady of the evening.” Her voice was too bright, too brassy, as she led them away.

I was still staring at Caryl, because with all this nonsense about putting me in charge, it had finally sunk in that she had every intention of dying.





46


The sounds of bickering faded as Caryl and I headed down the lane toward the town square, hand in hand. I shifted my fingers to interlace them with hers. “I kind of like hanging out with the real you,” I said.

“This isn’t the real me,” she argued, as she had in the car after leaving Regazo de Lujo. Only this time with 90 percent more petulance.

“Now that you can’t shut me up by saying I’ll explode Elliott, I just want to say—I feel really bad for everything I put you through. You’re a really good boss, and I enjoyed working for you, and I never meant to disrespect you in any way.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but watching her completely fold in on herself and dissolve into tears wasn’t it.

“Hey,” I said, stopping in the town square, under the shadow of the ruined bell tower. “It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay.” Which was bullshit, of course; I couldn’t even find okay on the map. I tried to give Caryl a hug, but she cringed away, then immediately apologized.

“I panic if anything closes in on me,” she said. “They used to put me in a box when I screamed too loudly.”

“The Unseelie?”

“Let’s just find a way out of here.”

I squinted up at the sky, trying to find a seam, a difference in shading, something. But it went on and on smoothly for miles, the color of bleached denim. “Was it Vivian who kidnapped you?”

“Let’s not talk about it, please.” There was such urgency in her voice that I reluctantly let it drop.

“All right, well, can we talk about why you put me in charge just now?” I said.

“Because I like you.”

“I beg your f*cking pardon?”

She made a spastic waving-away gesture with her free hand. “It doesn’t matter. National will put someone else in charge when they get here next week. It was just . . . a gesture.”

“Do you think it was a mistake to fire me?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think straight without Elliott.” She tried to lead us out of the town square, but I pulled her up short.

“Yes, you can, Caryl; you just have no practice at it. It’s not either/or. This is a thing they taught me. Emotion Mind and Reason Mind. They can work together. You don’t have to get rid of your feelings, you just have to keep them out of the -driver’s seat. I’m not saying it’s easy.”

She gave a nervous, keening little laugh. “Very well then, I’ll devote my remaining five minutes of life to the study.”