The Offering (14 page)

I thought Eden would bark at her, tell her not to mess with anything and ridicule her for thinking she'd ever allow an amateur like Brook behind the wheel of such a formidable vehicle. Her mood was definitely impatient.

But something stopped her, and her answer wasn't at all what I'd anticipated. “We'll see,” she answered instead, surprising both me and—from the way Brook's eyes widened
eagerly—Brooklynn, too. “Not sure I want to risk my life. Let's just see how things work out.”

Brooklynn practically squealed, a giddy sound that made me grin, and if it had been anyone but Eden—and if I hadn't been afraid she might push me or punch me or abandon me altogether—I might've hugged Eden for giving Brook that moment of glee.

Instead I turned to Caspar; I had more pressing matters on my mind. “How will we fuel it?”

Caspar marched to the rear of the transport and knocked on one of the disfigured steel drums. “There's enough fuel in here to get you across the country and back. Twice.”

“Where'd you get it all?” I asked, impressed and a little uneasy that anyone had provisions like this. I wondered if my own army had this much fuel at its disposal.

“That was one of the perks of being a munitions camp. We were never short of fuel around here,” he replied, winking at me.

He turned back to the drums again and pounded on the third one—one that looked identical to the other two. “This one's water. You'd be smart not to mix 'em up,” he told us, then winked at me again.

The idea of drinking anything that came from one of those barrels made my stomach turn.

“We better get moving,” Eden interrupted. “We have a lot to do before we go.”

niko

“That bitch,” Elena cursed, pacing once more to stand in front of the mantel. She stared into the empty fireplace, a space she'd been contemplating for the past hour, ever since hearing news of her sister's betrayal. “What could she hope to gain by freeing Xander? What good could she possibly expect to come from this . . . this escapade of hers?” Her fists clenched at her sides and she threw back her head, writhing as she struggled to maintain her composure, her fury getting the best of her. “I needed him. I
needed
him!” Her shrieks echoed into the yawning black space of the hearth.

Recoiling from her words, Niko tried to ignore the way they knotted around his gut. She was right, of course. Sage had derailed his plans by stealing away with Xander, and now they'd lost some of their leverage. Even if Charlaina came now, they might not be able to coerce her into making the transfer. They'd planned to use Xander as a bargaining chip if she balked.

And after all the time he'd spent convincing Elena how
simple it was, that all she had to do was say the words, and she could take Sabara—
Layla
—from Charlie.

But Charlie had to be willing to release the Essence, and there was no guarantee she would be.

There were still so many things that none of them knew about this process, since no girl had ever survived alongside Layla before. And now Layla and Charlie were so intertwined, so enmeshed in each other's psyches, he wondered if they even knew where one of them ended and the other began. Niko wasn't convinced Charlie would live when Layla was removed from her. Surely Charlie had considered this as well.

Not that it mattered, really. He had no intention of letting Charlie escape Astonia alive.

If only Charlie hadn't been so difficult, so headstrong. If only she'd been more willing to share that part of her that was still Layla with him, then he wouldn't have been here now. Plotting her demise.

“It'll be okay,” Niko promised, joining Elena, running his hands over the cool skin of her arms in an effort to soothe her. He needed her cooperation. Losing her now would put an end to all of his carefully laid plans. He could feel her quiver beneath his fingertips, and he hoped that meant he hadn't lost her support. “Xander wasn't our only option. You know that as well as I. There are other ways to take down a queen. Ways that can be even more beneficial to your people. The peaceful way is less messy, but brute force can be more . . . persuasive. And just imagine it, my love; you'll be more powerful with two countries under your rule than one. You'll have more land, more resources. And when at last we capture
Charlaina, you'll be immortal, too.” He pulled her around so they stood face-to-face, and he cupped her chin in his palm. He knew the effect his golden eyes had on her, the same effect they had on most women, and he watched as she succumbed to his molten stare. He settled his mouth over hers, claiming her in no uncertain terms. This body would be Layla's next host, he told himself, allowing himself to get lost in the taste of Elena.

And when he was sure he'd convinced her, both with his words and with his kisses, he pulled back.

She shuddered, collapsing forward against his chest, and he smiled, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her. “So, it's time then,” she affirmed—not a question, just a declaration of fact.

Niko nodded, and expertly untangled her fingers from his—like a master puppeteer. He raised them to his lips in a calculated kiss, reassuring her she was doing the right thing. “What choice do we have? It's time to stop playing around. Sometimes war is the only answer.”

viii

Even with all of us working together on separate tasks, Eden was right, it took us the rest of the day to get the bus prepared for our departure.

Eden stayed with Caspar and a group of kids he called “the mechanics” to work on getting the vehicle “shipshape,” whatever that meant. There were a few minor repairs and one major one—something he called a transmission—that would require several parts to be salvaged from other vehicles they had lying around. Eden assured me it was a simple task, and that she'd have it completed by day's end.

Brook and I had been split up to gather food, much of which still had to be scavenged, or caught and prepared. Brook had gone to collect canned goods and to inventory supplies, while I'd asked to be assigned to a hunting party.

At first I'd thought the idea of hunting sounded like another new challenge—like fighting or riding. But I quickly learned that the animals we were up against, forest creatures that were agile and adept in their own environments, were evasive, and
trying to capture them was like trying to capture smoke with your bare fingers.

It was an exhaustive game, and one I soon realized I failed at miserably.

The others, however—children much younger and smaller than me—seemed to understand things that I didn't, and watching them was as fascinating as watching an intricate dance with complicated steps I had yet to master. It was as if they'd been born with spears in their hands.

One of the girls who called herself Havana warned me to remain silent by pressing a dirt-caked finger to her mouth. She left me then, in the branches of one of the ancient trees that we'd climbed, as she whooped and hollered, creating a ruckus of her own. She threw herself downward, crashing loudly through the leaves and whipping them into a frenzy.

In the process she sent a family of ground rats scurrying across the forest floor and then set after them on bare feet that seemed to skim across the top of the ground without actually touching it.

I wasn't sure I'd ever seen such grace as she captured one after another, first with a snare she'd pulled from her ropelike belt, then another with a hand-carved spear, and yet another with a knife she chucked from at least twenty paces away.

She felled each one with the precision of a seasoned soldier.

I'd never realized hunting could be so exhilarating.

That is, until she signaled me to come down from my perch in the tree and taught me how to kill and skin the tiny beasts. That was when my breakfast of soft cheese and crusty bread started to come back up.

It wasn't the blood. Somehow she knew how to minimize the bloodshed. It was the smell as she peeled the pelt away from the stringy layers of muscle and fatty tissue beneath. I had to cover my mouth and nose to keep from retching.

I caught her giggling in my direction more than once. It was humiliating but enlightening. And at least I now knew how to hunt and kill, even if I might never be capable of putting that particular skill into practice.

By the time we'd had a chance to bundle our catch and clean up, Brook was just loading the last of the supplies onto the VAN.

Eden gave her brother one last reproachful glare. “You can still change your mind,” she told him in what I could only assume was her idea of an invitation to join us.

Caspar didn't answer her. Instead he wiped the grease from his hands on the front of his pants and then threw his arms around his older sister. “Take care,” he said in a voice that sounded like it might crack at any second. “And just so you know, I fully expect you to bring that beast back here in one piece.”

Eden hugged him back, and grinned when she responded, “I assume you mean the VAN and not Brooklynn.” And then she used the back of his shirt to wipe her own hands.

“Aw,” he complained, shoving Eden—and her greasy hands—away from him. Then he considered her words and winked in Brook's direction. “Now that you mention it, I'll take either.”

With that, we climbed inside and started the engine, filling the entire building with fat clouds of black smoke.

aron

Aron threw the last of his belongings into his satchel and zipped it shut. He'd be glad to leave this place. Not that it didn't have its charms, what with its lack of running hot water and the shortage of privacy and all. But despite the lack of creature comforts, he'd been prepared to do his job and stay for the duration of the install, until the last of the communication equipment was up and running.

As it was, he'd be leaving with the job incomplete. All because of the message he'd received from Max.

Brook, Charlie, and Eden were missing.

No, not missing. They'd taken it upon themselves to go to Astonia to try to stop the war.

Brooklynn.
How many nights had Aron lain awake thinking about her? How many times had he imagined going home to her?

Sure, she was rude and unpredictable, but damn the girl could kiss. And he'd never known anyone nearly as passionate. She loved and hated with equal intensity.

He just hoped he fell on the right side of that line.

The last thing he'd ever expected was that he'd have to abandon his duties to go in search of her. Not Brook. She was too tough and independent to need his help. Yet here he was, packing his bags and preparing to run after her.

The message that had come in over the communication device had been specific. He was to meet Max just outside the Left Harbor no later than nightfall tomorrow.

That didn't give him much time, especially in light of the fact that there were no trains running along the coast, and that he'd be traveling alone—another explicit message from Max. He was to tell no one of their plans, or what Charlie and the others had done.

They couldn't risk letting anyone know that the queen of Ludania had gone AWOL.

“Aron.” He spun around to see one of the communication engineers he'd been assigned to share quarters with. His roommate wasn't much older than he was but had attended university with the other former counsel kids, and he had a way of making Aron feel inadequate because of his education and his upbringing. No one ever said so out loud, but Aron got the feeling they considered him the queen's lapdog.

“Yeah,” Aron answered absently, tugging his satchel up and adjusting the straps.

“We got another message. Just a few moments ago.”

Aron stopped what he was doing and raised his head. His roommate was watching him, and the graveness of his expression made Aron set his bag back down on his bed. “For me?”

“For everyone.” That somberness permeated his voice. “It's bad. You should come to the communication depot.”

Aron shook his head, his stomach plummeting. “Just tell me.”

There was a moment before his roommate spoke, and in that moment Aron held his breath, imagining the worst—about Charlie, or Brooklynn. His heart ceased to beat as too many possibilities raced through his head.

But what he heard was worse. Much, much worse.

“Queen Elena's troops have been spotted nearing the border and will be crossing in a matter of hours.” He paused, but only long enough to swallow. “She's declared war on Ludania.”

Aron reached for his bag and ran for the door, more desperate than ever to reach the Left Harbor and Max. He'd be damned if he'd leave Brooklynn and Charlie out there on their own.

He had to find them before they ran right into an army of soldiers who'd like nothing more than to put Charlie's head on a spike and present it to their queen.

ix

“Look how far the lights extend.” I pointed past Brook's shoulder as she and I hovered in the front of the VAN while it lurched over the uneven land. The light from the headlamps of the vehicle stretched into and past trees and boulders, penetrating every space it came in contact with, and even bounced back at us. The headlights turned the night into day, revealing a hostile landscape that looked like it could chew our VAN up and spit it out.

It had been years—more than I knew, really—since vehicles like this had been commonplace in Ludania. Paved roads, real ones, the kind with flat surfaces that were unmarred by pits and rocks, were rare. There were some, though, and a few were even maintained to keep them passable, mostly by cart, but also by the occasional, albeit rare, motorized vehicle.

Most roads, however, were broken and cracked. Weeds, shrubs, even groves of trees had overrun them. Many had been smashed into unrecognizable fragments of their former selves, and were often impassible even on horseback. But even those
that hadn't been preserved were still used as trade routes, to demark the way from city to city, village to village. Along many of these forgotten thoroughfares, we could see the abandoned hulls of what had once been vehicles, long-since stripped of anything valuable. Time had corroded what had remained.