Riders (Riders, #1)(101)

I toss my sword up to reverse my grip. Frenzied howls break out around me, and her beasts look to me with their soulless eyes. They already know it’s over. I bring my sword down and plunge it into her heart.

Bay shudders and stills, her eyes going flat. Her monsters fall to the earth and scream like their hearts have been skewered, too. In seconds, they’re all silent.

That’s four. Four plus one horde.

We’re at better than fifty percent, but it doesn’t feel like it.

Samrael should count for extra. Ronwae, too.

Ra’om, too. Dragons should count for double.

I look up. Soaring above, Ra’om spews a furious burst of fire. I know he’s seen Bay fall.

Kneeling, I unfasten Bastian’s weapon from Bay’s thick neck. Try to. Harder with one hand. I twist and untwist the links of the scales, trying to get five fingers to do the work of ten. How many things will be harder now? Not the time to think about this.

As I try to unlock the scales again, I sense a shift in the battle’s quality. It’s quieter without the snarl of the grizzly beasts. And there’s no more gunfire. The Army force is out of ammunition. Not a surprise. They couldn’t have anticipated a battle against demon hordes in Wyoming.

I’m not mounted, and it’s made me vulnerable to the scorpions. Marcus and Jode converge on me. I reach down and tug on the chain again, to free the scales. Bastian needs his weapon. They untwist, and I pull hard. They finally slide from beneath Bay’s head, but instead of relief, dread hits me.

If Sebastian needs his weapon, he can just call it back.

Why hasn’t he?

As I lift my gaze and look for him, I see Shadow first, halfway across the field.

She’s rearing and shrieking as several scorpions keep her from reaching Sebastian—Bas, who is on his back, pinned beneath one of Ronwae’s massive claws. Bas is completely immobilized. Even if he called his scales, he couldn’t use them.

Samrael stands over him, watching me like he’s been waiting.

Stillness descends over everything. My vision tunnels. Everything fades except that point in the field: Ronwae pinning Bas. Samrael watching me.

They are a hundred paces away, but every detail is clear. Every sound. The strain on Sebastian’s face at the pressure of the scorpion’s claw. Samrael’s satisfied smile. The quiet rattle of Ronwae’s stinger.

I sense Jode and Marcus dismount and join me.

And Daryn. Daryn comes to my side, her gaze fixed on Sebastian.

Ronwae’s multitudes draw around us, keeping us from moving.

None of us is moving.

Only Ra’om moves—a shadow drifting in the sky above.

Samrael lifts my cuff in the air. “I need the other three, Daryn,” he says. His voice is ruthless. “Unlock them and bring them to me. Or I’ll continue to remove them myself.”

“No.” Daryn shakes her head. “And they won’t help you, Samrael. Even if I brought them to you.”

“Will you help me?” he asks.

Daryn doesn’t answer.

“I think you will,” Samrael says. He turns to Ronwae, and motions with his hand. “Go ahead.”

The scorpion’s claw moves away from Sebastian, and then the stinger whips down. It strikes Sebastian on the chest. It stays there as the tail muscles flex, and I can almost see the venom moving into him. Then the stinger goes up and Bas sags against the ground.

Daryn is screaming. We’re all yelling. Jode is the only one still in his right mind. He steps in front of us and holds us back. We can’t stop this. It already happened. We can’t stop it.

Then I hear Daryn speak words I never thought she’d say.

“I’ll do it!” she yells. “I’ll give them you!”

Samrael smiles. “I thought so.” On the ground by his feet, Bas is gasping for breath. “Better hurry.”

As Daryn comes to stand in front of Marcus, thoughts crash through my mind.

What are we doing?

How can we do this?

How can we not?

“Give me your arm,” Daryn says. Her eyes are distant. She’s somewhere else. She’s trying to get through a situation where every possible outcome is terrible.

Marcus’s face is tight with anger as he extends his arm.

Daryn reaches out and frames the cuff with her hands. Her eyes drift almost closed. Soft, warm light builds within her palms. Gold, like her. And the cuff around Marcus’s wrist loosens. It dissolves into pale ashes. Into a small tornado, circling Marcus’s arm.

There is no wonder or awe on Daryn’s face as she steps back, the ashes moving with her. Only focus. A focus that’s beyond. She brings her hands together and the ashes consolidate, until Marcus’s cuff is re-formed and pressed between her palms. She slips it over her wrist. Then she moves to Jode and begins again.

Under her guidance, her control, his cuff becomes a brilliant circle of light, and then transforms back into the cuff, resting in the palm of her hand.

I don’t feel surprise as I watch her. The barriers of what’s possible broke down when I first folded in with Riot. And I always knew there was something more to her. The feeling that’s building inside me is dread.

I’m so sorry.

What did she mean? What does she know?

Daryn slips Jode’s cuff over her wrist. It rests next to Marcus’s.