Riders (Riders, #1)(47)

CHAPTER 28

“You don’t have to count all the way down for us, Gideon,” Cordero says.

“I wasn’t going to.” I swallow, clearing my throat. Letting that morning fade back and this pine room fade in. “I was just trying to give you an idea. Five minutes feels like a long time when you’re counting every second.”

Cordero laces her fingers together. “I can imagine. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please continue. The creature you mentioned—the one with the wings. Was it one of the Kindred?”

I nod. “He’s called Alevar. Creepy little dude. But I’m going to need a health break before I go any further.”

I do need to use the facilities, but I also need a moment. The memory of being with Daryn is so real, it’s like I can still feel her head on my chest. I have to shake it off. I just need a second to lock it back down.

Cordero frowns. “Health break?”

I was trying to be tactful but I guess she wants details, which I can respect. “I gotta hit the head. And trust me. You don’t want to keep War away from a toilet when he needs one.”

Texas and Beretta laugh right away. They know I’m messing around, but I’ve really scared the civvie. The look on Cordero’s face is priceless.

“I’m just playing with you, Cordero. I drank all that water. It’s just biology. You know. Natural.”

“Five-minute break.” Cordero pushes up from her desk. “You know your orders,” she says to Texas. “Make sure everyone is on alert.”

“I don’t have to go that bad.”

She stops at the door, her dark eyes shining as she glances back. “You don’t want to push me too far, Gideon.”

“Warning stands,” Texas says as he unfastens my bindings. “Don’t try anythin’ stupid.” But he sounds more casual than before. He’s getting a sense for who I am. I have no intention of trying anything, and I think he knows that.

He drops the hood over my head and I muffle a groan. There’s really nothing that compares to the sweat and vomit scent combo. Not even Cordero’s perfume.

“What is it, kid?” he says.

“Hood stinks.”

“Least it’s your stink,” Beretta says, and they both laugh.

Texas helps me to my feet. My legs feel spongy from the drugs and because it’s been a while since I’ve moved. My first few steps weave. Texas grabs my elbow in a vise grip. He doesn’t let go as he walks beside me, issuing commands.

Forward three paces.

Down two steps.

Ten more paces.

As I follow them, I notice the hallway sags at the center and the floorboards shake. Not just because me, Texas, and Beretta weigh over six hundred pounds combined. They feel springy and thin. Drafts sweep past from all directions. They’re cool and smell alpine-clean compared to the musty warmth of the room. And this place has, like, the opposite of soundproofing. I hear everything. Passing a door, I catch voices arguing. Marcus’s room, no question. Then I hear laughter—that’s Bastian. Finally, I hear the steady meter of polished conversation—Jode.

It’s good to hear them. I can barely sense them through the cuff. Too much crap in my blood. But I knew they’d be here. We left Jotunheimen together, the four of us. Only one of us stayed behind.

Good job, Blake. You went three whole minutes without thinking about her.

We reach the bathroom and the hood comes off. Beretta posts up at the bathroom door. Texas makes sure I don’t rip the sink off the wall and … what? Throw it through the tiny blacked-out window? It’d be cool if I had superstrength. I check in with what I do have, searching for the sword, for Riot, and nope. Still nothing.

Texas waits behind me with the hood as I wash my hands. After being in that empty room for so long, everything is interesting and my senses feel heightened, acutely tuned to all of it. Freezing-cold tap water. Rust stains seeping into the drain. The antiseptic smell of the soap. That’s all I get before the hood’s back on and the world goes back to black. My hands are refastened with the disposable plastic ties. Texas and Beretta flank me again. Time to make the trip back to the room.

I picture it as we go. Turning from the bathroom into a narrow hallway with carpets worn bare at the center. Passing a small living room with cheap furniture, pizza boxes, maybe some spooky-looking government people sitting there, watching the kid in the hood walk by. I feel like I’m being watched. Which makes sense. There’s only one reason for all this security, and for this completely unethical debriefing. This was never about money, or international diplomacy, or the press. Cordero must’ve gotten wind of something unusual happening in Norway, maybe from satellite photos or drone images. How much about this did she already know before I started talking?

Texas’s grip clamps down on my elbow, jarring me to a halt. “Hold here. Do not open your mouth.”

I think I hear an argument. I strain to listen. Not Marcus this time. Who? Samrael? The Kindred? “What’s going on?”

Somewhere a few paces ahead of me, Beretta swears. “Move,” he says. “Get him back in there.”

I’m yanked backward, toward the bathroom, when I hear her.

“You don’t need to push me! I’m going!”

It’s her.

Daryn.

I slam my weight into Texas. We crash against the wall, the whole place shuddering. He tries to wrap me up, but I throw an elbow, catch him in the nose, I think, and that gives me a second. One second to reach up and yank the hood off, and she’s there. Standing inside the front door, between two men in black tactical gear, framed by the rectangle of sunlight behind her.