Black the Tides Page 17

  “I’m what?” Ravel asks, hearing only my half of the conversation, as usual.

  “Persuasive. And able to cross barriers. If you can take people with you, that’s all we need.”

  Between his ability to cross the barrier and his Influence, whether that really was some kind of talent, or technology—whatever he meant by that—or just the inherent power of being the son of the mayor and deliverer of the Mara’s favourite treats, it means we might have a real chance.

  I wonder if it occurs to him that he never needed me to begin with. I hold my breath, but his grin shows no sign of cutting me out of the plan, and I’m not about to give up now.

  I set out to save my city. If Ravel is the tool I need to do it, good enough.

  “Sure. Just keep telling yourself that,” Cadence says.

  Chapter 28: Desolation

  Turns out the journey through the mountains was the easy part. Apparently they had been mostly uninhabited in the time before, which means no one had bothered bombing them to bits. The monster threat there wasn’t as big to begin with. But the wide valley between the mountains and the sea had evidently once been packed with people.

  Some of this story I picked up from Grace and Susan. Ravel knows even more, or at least is willing to share more than they were. He tells me bits and pieces as we pick our way across twisted bridges and shattered roads.

  There was once a whole chain of cities between the mountains and the water, not just ours. Our city held on the longest as the waters rose, ignoring the signs until it was too late, or maybe just too stupid and greedy to abandon their holdings. The sea covered the land and made islands of the towers, and still the people did not leave, even as monsters rose from the waves and the Mara stalked their halls in the sky.

  This is where their stories diverge because Susan said the monsters hemmed our city in and trapped us there to contain our ability to cause further damage, and Ravel says it was our people who made the barrier in the first place. He says it was meant to protect us—and it did when the bombs started going off. Apparently, someone had decided that the best way to take back the land would be levelling it, without regard for either the people living there or the monsters hunting them.

  Clearly, that didn’t work. The only traces of human life in this broken wasteland are ancient and decaying, but monsters still snarl in the depths of night and surge under every bridge we cross.

  Between the end of the mountains and the uneven blotch of the city rising from the waters at the edge of the coast, we find rivers where there should be roads, lakes where there should be fields, and all too often, decaying skeletons of mammoth constructions barring our way. I thought I’d at least be able to find my way back to the first camp we made on our way out, the one near the haunted village, but even that turns out to be beyond me.

  In the end, it’s Cadence who saves us from getting eaten in the wilderness.

  Have I mentioned we’re exhausted? Because, between the ghosts-behind-my-eyes nightmares and the monstrous-actually-screaming-in-the-dark nightmares, both Ravel and I have bags under our eyes big enough to haul a second bike in.

  Which makes it all the more irritating when Cadence chirps that she totally knows the way, and why are we wasting all this time going in circles?

  “Not in the mood.” I snap.

  She’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately, other than that persistent and monotonous humming, but I still don’t have the energy for her games right now.

  “For what?” Ravel asks.

  “Hmm? Oh, Cadence’s messing around again.”

  He doesn’t even raise his eyebrows at that anymore. “Shut up, Cadence. The grown-ups are tired today.”

  “But I really do know the way!” she whines.

  “Shut up, Cadence.” I second, enjoying the way Ravel said “grown-ups.”

  We may be screwing this up, but it’s kind of nice not being the only screw-up for a change. It’d be even nicer if the stakes weren’t so high. At this rate, I can’t believe pursuit hasn’t caught up to us already, and I can’t let myself think too hard about the other thing. The thing where the Mara have had weeks now to do as they will . . .

  “What if I can find us a good camping spot for tonight?” Cadence interrupts, dogged. “If I’m right, will you believe that I know the way?”

  I shrug, stumble over a weed, and thwack my elbow on the side of the bike trying not to face-plant.

  Ravel looks over in concern, but I do this often enough he doesn’t bother dashing over to check on me anymore. That or the fit I threw the last time he tried has finally taught him better. I kick my way free of entangling vegetation and rub my elbow.

  “Cadence says she knows a good spot to stop for the night,” I say by way of explanation.

  “Does she have a lead on dinner, too?”

  “Oh, right,” Cadence says. “You guys eat. Sorry, not too many options out here—unless you want to fish?”

  “That’s a nope on dinner.” I lean into the bike, pushing until I can’t feel the hollowness of my stomach. “But I’m thinking we give her a shot on finding a place to sleep. She couldn’t be any worse than you at it.”

  Ravel gives me a look that says I have no room to talk, which is fair.

  There’s still blood on his sleeve from a surprise attack two nights ago. My suggestion to camp at the foot of a rare intact wall hadn’t factored in the things apparently living just on the other side of it. Those monsters were small, but they could climb. And bite.

  “Your call,” is all he says.

  I expected gloating from Cadence, but she guides us to a mostly-standing building with a minimum of fuss. It’s small enough we can scout its single-story of remaining rooms and be reasonably confident it’s unoccupied before the light fades. There’s even one room with all four walls and a door intact. The only window is high and narrow. It’s dark but as secure as anything we can hope to find out here.

  “Not bad,” I admit. We wheel the bike in and lean it against the door as extra insurance.

  “She have any other surprises in store for us?” Ravel asks, reaching up thoughtlessly to unsling the pack—the one that lies in tatters on a mountain bridge a few days’ travel back.

  Cadence giggles.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickles to attention. She never acts this playful around him.

  Ravel looks up sharply, sensing more than seeing the change. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing much,” she teases. “Just saved you, is all. The squad from Nine Peaks would’ve run right into us if I hadn’t helped.”

  “How do you know? Where are they? Are they here?” My pulse kicks into high gear, blood rushing in my ears, which is entirely unproductive, since all I want to do is press up against the wall and listen for approaching footsteps.

  “What’s going on?” Ravel puts himself between me and the door, preparing for an attack.

  “Shh,” she says. “They’ll hear you if you’re not quiet.”

  I reach for Ravel’s shoulder. He pivots away from the door and sinks to the floor without a word, following the pressure of my hand. Even on full alert, part of me marvels at the grace of his movements, which just goes to show how exhausted I’ve become.

  I shake away the distraction. “Explain.”

  Cadence hums. “Should I? You never believe me.”

  I growl. Ravel edges closer. “What—”

  “Oh, fine,” she sighs. “Will you stop freaking out if I tell you I can feel them? Listen in on their plans?”

  That’s . . . possible, I guess. “Who?”

  “Not Ash,” she says, puncturing the bubble of hope I hadn’t realized was inflating. “Not anyone you know. The elders made sure of that.”

  Ravel taps my knee in silent question. I brush him off.

  “You’re not going to tell him? He’s feeling left out.”

  I ignore her taunting. “What do they want?”

  “Us. They were sent to bring us back.”

  I close m
y eyes. Too late. We wasted our head start and now they’ve caught up.

  “It’s okay,” Cadence says, in a disquieting, hollow tone. “I can keep them from finding us, just like earlier. They’ll pass us and make for the city. I’ll listen in on their plans. We’ll be able to stay just out of reach until it’s too late for them to stop us.”

  I strain my ears. All I hear, beyond the rasp of my breaths, and Ravel’s, is the creaking and popping of the decaying structure around us. But now I wonder: that rustling outside the window, is it the wind in the weeds, or the stealthy footsteps of trackers surrounding us?

  “We’re safe here. I promise,” she says. “Now, you’d better explain to that idiot or he’ll go and blow it all.”

  Ravel is up on one knee, ready to launch himself at whatever threat is coming.

  I sigh and tug his sleeve until he drops down again. I whisper the news against his ear. He smells of sweat and dust and, still, after all we’ve been through, just the faintest hint of the oversweet, spiced air of Freedom.

  When I finish, he turns to look at me. There’s so little light left that our heads bump.

  I jerk back, sprawling off balance and almost hit the floor with a thud. His arm around me muffles the impact, spilling us both in the dust, tense and panting.

  “Wow, so stealthy,” says Cadence.

  Chapter 29: Seaweed

  Exhausted or not, there’s no way I can sleep after Cadence’s announcement. I prop myself against one spongy wall and stare at the door, twitching with every muffled noise from outside.

  But the next thing I know, the angle of the room has changed, and the light. Ravel rolls over and blinks sleepily at me from across the room. My far-too-empty stomach gurgles. I clap my hands over it and wince.

  Cadence laughs. “It’s fine. They’re long gone—no need to keep quiet now. We should get going, though. They’ll be harder to follow if they’re too far ahead.”

  We leave the bike behind after Cadence promises she can help us find it again if needed. We can’t risk the noise of it giving our position away.

  Without its grumbling company, I’m able to make out a strangely familiar sound: a low, drawn-out noise that calls to something in me. I’ve taken a half-dozen steps before Ravel snags my arm. I shake him off and continue a few more before the fence comes into view.

  I hadn’t realized Cadence had brought us so close to the place Ash had first stopped on our way out of the city after all. We’ve just spent the night in the remains of a building down the hill from it. And I hadn’t expected the haunted village to still call to me so strongly.

  “Flame?” Ravel keeps pace beside me, tugging at my sleeve. “I think that’s the wrong way.”

  I ignore him, pushing through high grass and low bushes to reach past the rotten boards. I hook my fingers into chain link and shiver at the familiarity.

  Ash had said this was a broken, abandoned place—a fake village overrun by monsters. Cadence had said it wasn’t safe—

  “It isn’t,” she insists. “You need to come away. We’re losing time, remember?”

  —But it still doesn’t feel dangerous. Just alien. And when twigs brush my fingers from the other side of the links and a clump of leaves and bushes nod at me, I get the sense it’s more than just the breeze driving them.

  I close my hand around the twigs, still listening to that low, distant murmuring—and in the place of the dry sticks are the familiar knots and whorls of a satin-grained bit of wood.

  I can’t remember having seen it since we fled the river monsters in the mountains . . .

  The whispering of the wind in the leaves and that low sound overlap, forming an oddly melodious pattern and I can almost hear, almost make it out—

  “There’s no time for this,” Cadence says, urgently, her pitch rising. “We have our own monsters back home to worry about. Cole! Hey!”

  I shake my head, suddenly dizzy. I’d forgotten how this place affected me. How these monsters were able to get inside my head. And yet, even knowing their threat, there was something about this place, the way if felt, the sounds that almost made sense, would make sense if I could just listen for another moment—

  “What’s wrong?” Flame?” Ravel nudges me. “Didn’t you want to get going?”

  I blink. Then I backpedal, so fast we almost both go down trying to get out of each other’s ways. I slip and fumble my way down the low hill to where we’d started, trembling. Whatever lives on the other side of that fence can make me see things, hear things, feel things that aren’t there. If I hadn’t had both him and Cadence pestering me, pulling me back, I’m not sure I’d have been able to stop myself from crossing over to the monsters. I need to get out of this place before they can cast their spell on me again.

  Ravel prods for answers that I have no intention of giving him—even if I could. Instead, I ignore him and focus on getting us back on track. The bike is where we left it. We have no supplies to gather anyway. It’s time to go—well past time.

  The group pursuing us from Nine Peaks must be a good size—a full squad, even. The trail they left in the weeds and dirt might have been enough to follow even without Cadence’s help. With it, we make good time toward the coast, dropping back from the direct route only when she warns we’re getting too close to remain undetected.

  By nightfall, the yellow stain of our city is visible on the horizon. The barrier gives it a weird, dome-like appearance, toxic fog blurring our view of the towers within.

  “Tomorrow?” I whisper, despite Cadence’s assurances we’re more than shouting distance away from our pursuers.

  Ravel shakes his head. “Probably not. It takes more time than you’d think to cross all that. And I’d rather not do it in the dark if we can help it.”

  He’s right—no sense risking a night crossing now we’re so near.

  But then the nightmares close in. The dead are multiplying, their voices calling out to me; ghosts now mixed with what I desperately hope are just memories. Suzannah, ancient and young, dead and alive and dead again. Lifor, rebellious and hurting and trapped. Lily, clinging to Ash and begging us to save her father, Ange’s face blanching behind her. In the relentless storm of it all, I even catch sight of Maryam, withering and renewed and broken down once more, her face impassive and her eyes glittering with malevolence.

  Victims and friends, enemies and strangers, all crying out to be saved. Or avenged.

  And, just at the end as Ravel pulls me out of the nightmare, a new face. A memory of the child Cadence and I had been stares out at me, dark eyes brightening with a silver sheen—and draining to liquid black.

  I wake with a gasp, shivering in Ravel’s arms. I scramble to my feet in the grey light of a hazy, drizzling dawn, pushing him away. “Today. We go in today.”

  He hesitates, looking up with all the fear and vulnerability of the lost ones haunting my dreams. And then he stands, shoulders pulling straight, jaw hardening. “It’s a good day for an invasion.”

  BETWEEN CADENCE’S GUIDANCE and Ravel’s memories of the map and his journey out, we manage to forge our own path back to the city without running into the squad from Nine Peaks. We even make it before dark, if only just, though we’re weaving on our feet and faint with hunger and exhaustion by the time we stand at the edge of the water and look out—and up—at the barrier before us.

  The ocean laps at the gritty shore, deceptively calm. The dome over the city looks like a dingy sheet of glass slicing the water in two. It juts high above our heads, just the faintest suggestion of an arc catching the setting sun and scattering its bloody hues across that vast surface, obscuring what lays within.

  “You’re sure you can cross?” I ask.

  Ravel shrugs. “I did it once before, didn’t I? The real question is, can I get you across with me.”

  He tries for a grin, but it falls flat as we consider the image of me slipping down the wrong side of that glassine surface and into the waves below—yet another type of barrier to worry about—while he s
teps through alone.

  I crouch down and reach out to the icy water, wetting the tip of my finger before Ravel yanks me back.

  “Not a good idea.” He doesn’t let go until we’re several feet from the edge. “No sense giving them a taste for you.”

  “How do we get there”—I wave an arm at the malignant churn of fog on the other side of the barrier—“if we can’t go into the water?”

  Kind of the wrong question to be asking since I don’t remember learning to swim.

  “I do,” Cadence says unhelpfully. “It’s not that hard.”

  Ravel shoves hair back from his forehead and grimaces. “I was planning to wait until the tide went out and—”

  “Nope. Next.”

  “Lure in a bunch of sea monsters and hop across on their backs?” Cadence suggests.

  “Uh, find something that floats?” he offers.

  “Make some wings and a tower and glide at it from above?”

  “Build a really tall ladder and tip it against the side?

  “Dig a tunnel under the water?”

  “Catch a sea monster and ride it across?”

  “She already said that.” I roll my eyes. Amusing as all their absurdly creative solutions are, none of them get us into the city tonight. “How did you get out in the first place?”

  He points at the barrier in front of us. “The tide was out. I walked.”

  “When does it go out again?”

  He shrugs. Cadence does her version of a shrug, which is pointed silence. I scrub my hands over my face. “Okay. No sea monsters. No bridges. No waiting and absolutely nothing that requires constructing anything. What are we left with?”

  “We could look for a boat,” Ravel says. “Or boat-like floating objects.”

  “Do you see a boat?” Cadence says.

  Even in the dying light, it’s obvious none of the debris within view is going to do the job, even if we knew how to propel it in the right direction once we got it on the water. But that reminds me of something.

  “How did Ash get in, again—and get me out?”