Nil on Fire Page 22

  “How so?” I asked.

  “We live as a group, we leave as a group. We almost did it once, and now we know to brace for Nil trying to mess with our heads. Or in our heads.” He shrugged. “The island can’t really touch us until a year, right? So we just watch out for dogs and cats and everything else that likes meat until we can work our group disappearing act in September.”

  Skye’s face had gone white.

  “Zane, that’s it,” she whispered. “That’s what Nil wants.”

  “To get us home in time for Halloween?” He grinned.

  “No. For us to die as a group.” She looked at me, appalled. “Can you imagine how much power Nil would gain from all of us dying at once?”

  My blood ran cold.

  “Won’t happen,” I said quickly. “Zane’s right. The island can’t touch us until a year, and then it’s still based on when each person arrived. The three hundred sixty-five days is person-specific. Only five of us came through that summer gate.”

  “Unless the island goes after us another way,” Paulo said.

  “How?” Zane frowned. “Wolves? Lions? Alien attack?”

  “No.” Paulo’s voice was grave. “The Dead City. It has happened before.”

  “Dead City?” I echoed, just as Zane asked, “What happened? I mean, obviously something bad.” Zane waved his hand. “The word dead was a dead giveaway.”

  “I don’t know. I just know rumors. Remember, I wasn’t supposed to come; it was my brother.” Paulo raised his hands defensively. “He had the training, the history. All I know are bits and pieces.”

  “Well, give us whatever you’ve got,” I said.

  Paulo nodded. “This City—the one you call Nil City—we know it as the Silent City, because there were always empty houses and you would often be alone, in silence. The idea was that you would come and build a house to leave a legacy behind for those to come. A work project, also symbolic. The decision was made to stop building at ten. There were only one or two islanders here at any given time, and the empty houses represented both the past and the future. The general plan was to stay in the Listening Cave first, where we spent last night, with the rest of the time being spent in the Silent City or the Looking Glass Cavern. All places of reflection. But…” Paulo paused. “There are rumors of another city. One that was abandoned.” He looked at me. “The Dead City.”

  “Where was it?” Skye asked.

  “I don’t know. Just like I don’t know when it was abandoned, or why. But maybe Lana does.”

  “We need to know.” Skye’s tone was determined. “Or we might make the same mistakes, or meet the same fate. And I refuse to lose anyone else I care about.” She kissed me fiercely, full Skye heat flooding her veins and mine. Then she dropped her hands into fists and spun around to Zane so fast that he stepped back. “I hope your long shot is hanging out by the fire. Because we need answers, and we need them now.”

  CHAPTER

  42

  NIL

  LATE MORNING

  The one called Zane stared at the one called Skye. He did not see the pieces she was putting together, just as she did not see the picture they formed. But she would, the island reasoned.

  Because she was the one.

  *

  “Whoa,” Zane said. “No offense, Skye, but when you go all Pamela Landy on us, it’s way intense.” She wore the same expression he’d seen the morning she’d killed the leopard with nothing but a rock sling, and damn if she wasn’t a little scary.

  Rives half smiled.

  Skye narrowed her eyes as Zane raised his hands. “I’m not saying it’s not effective. If that’s what you’re after,” he added hastily, then mumbled, “Scary Pam.”

  Now Rives laughed.

  “Who is Pamela Landy?” Paulo asked.

  “Bourne Supremacy?” Zane’s head whipped toward Paulo, who still wore the same interested, slightly blank expression. “Bourne Ultimatum? Nothing? What is wrong with you people? Total classics.”

  He shook his head, then he braced, struck by a stillness. No, a thickness, in the air, a potent anticipation and it wasn’t his.

  A fifth wheel, Zane thought.

  He looked at Rives. “Chief,” he said, “maybe it’s because there’s no bugs or frogs, and there’s barely any birds, but it’s always so quiet here.” Zane’s eyes darted from one end of the beach to the other before landing on the mountain and sticking. “It’s like the island is listening. Or waiting. And not just for noon.”

  “I think it is,” Skye said. “Both listening and waiting.”

  “Like us,” Paulo said thoughtfully.

  “Wrong,” Rives growled. “This place is nothing like us.”

  He glared at the mountain.

  For a long moment, no one spoke.

  “Gate!” Skye cried. She thrust one finger toward the island’s interior.

  In the distance, a gate shimmered as it rose, framed by the blue Nil sky. It locked into place, then shot north, flying fast.

  They watched the iridescent wall speed over Nil ground, until it vanished from sight.

  “A single,” Rives observed. “One and done.”

  “What a tease.” Zane sighed. “We never had a chance.”

  “But would you have run?” Paulo asked quietly.

  His question hung in the air, like noon.

  *

  The island had already turned away, toward the barrier between worlds. The seam had widened. Power coursed through the crease, flowing from there to here and back again. The seam could no longer be sealed, but it could be contained. It must be contained. But first, the island would look.

  As always, it was drawn to her.

  The other her, the other one to leave early, yet with the same fire burning in her heart.

  *

  This is it, Charley thought. Rika’s house.

  It had taken weeks of asking, cajoling, and downright begging, not to mention bribing; Dr. Bracken had lightened his wallet more than once in return for information regarding a woman named Rika. But still, nothing.

  Until today.

  At ten o’clock this morning, a boy who looked about eleven years old had shown up at their house. He’d knocked politely, and when Charley answered, he’d said, “I’ve come to take you to Rika.” As if it was just that simple, as if Charley had an appointment scheduled and the appointed day had arrived, and that all their days and hours and minutes of asking were wasted because the appointed hour had yet to come.

  Crazy, Charley had thought.

  But she hadn’t thought twice about going with him. She’d scrawled a quick note for Dr. Bracken and off she’d gone, following the young boy at a leisurely speed, each on their own bike. As soon as they’d arrived at this house, the boy had waved and biked on, never looking back until he’d turned from sight.

  Now Charley stood alone, in front of a house she desperately hoped was Rika’s.

  Modest and quiet, an island cottage with a yard dotted with weeds and wildflowers stared back at her, as did the three white cats on the porch. The wooden house was painted salmon pink, the shutters a pale blue. Not threatening, just curious. Anyone could live here, anyone at all.

  Leaving her bike, Charley walked up to the front door.

  It opened before she could knock. A woman with big brown eyes highlighted in bright-gold eye shadow smiled wide, showing startlingly white teeth. Her long brown hair swirled down around her shoulders, broken up by one braid, no gray. Large beaded hoops swayed from her ears as she moved; so did her gauzy black dress. The two-dozen bracelets on her arms—bracelets of gold, bone, shell, leather, and more—rustled as she waved Charley in.

  “Come in, child. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “You have?” Charley asked. She stepped inside the house and looked around. Light streamed in through the open windows. A living room, bright and cheery, sat to the left. To the right, a small kitchen was tucked in the corner, clean and neat. “I didn’t know I was coming to see you until a few min
utes ago.”

  “I’ve been waiting for years. Of course, I thought it would be another, descended from another. But then”—she flicked her hand in the air—“it changed. And now it’s you.”

  Charley didn’t move. “What changed?”

  Rika shrugged as if to say Everything. “The future. The present. You.” She smiled, her dark eyes radiating power. “Let’s do this properly, Charley. I’m Rika, and it’s a pleasure to have you.”

  Charley nodded, fully aware that this moment wasn’t hers. She hadn’t offered her name, yet Rika knew it, a simple but effective way of saying I know you. I know more than you.

  Point made, Charley thought as she stepped inside. There were a dozen ways Rika would know her name, Charley told herself. After all, Charley had been asking about Rika for weeks. Charley smiled. She would play the game too.

  “Nice to meet you, Rika,” she said. “Thank you for meeting with me.” Rika’s words swirled in her head like a sandstorm, chafing and raw. I’ve been waiting for years. I thought it would be another. “You expected Skye?” Charley cocked her head.

  “No. Not now. Now I was expecting you.”

  But before, yes, Charley thought.

  “Come.” Rika waved Charley to the room to the left. “I have pineapple muffins.”

  A cheery yellow couch filled the space, along with three bright-orange chairs. Green plants and pots of pink flowers were tucked in odd spaces. It was a rainbow of color in one small room.

  “Sit.” Rika gestured. A tray of golden muffins and two small green bottles of Sprite sat on a square table in front of the couch.

  An uncomfortable feeling bloomed in Charley’s chest.

  “How did you know I like Sprite?” she asked, hating the rise she heard in her voice.

  Rika smiled. “I know many things, child. It’s why you are here, no?”

  Charley nodded. And she silently prayed she wouldn’t be staying long. Rika made her less comfortable by the minute.

  “Please.” Rika waved toward the couch. “Relax.”

  As if I could, Charley thought. Still, she was a guest—an invited, summoned guest, she thought, and rudeness would not win her any favors or information.

  Charley sat.

  But she refused to waste another minute on idle chatter. Reaching into her bag, she found Skye’s uncle’s journal and grasped it tight. “You met Scott, who was my friend Skye’s uncle. You met him on the island. When he came back, he wrote this.” Charley waved the journal. “Skye read it, and then last December, she went through the winter gate on the solstice. And she returned in March. But—” Charley paused. Rika was staring at her with an unnerving curiosity, as if she already knew what Charley would say before the words ever left her mouth. Charley shook that feeling off and kept going. “A few weeks ago, the island lured her back. She took the summer gate and now she’s stuck on the island.”

  Rika’s smile developed slowly. “You don’t believe that, do you?” she asked softly. “That she’s stuck.”

  “Well, I know she’s trapped until either a gate pops up at noon to take her back, or the equinox gate opens in September. So essentially, she’s stuck.”

  “But not forever.” Rika’s voice was cool water running over hot stones.

  “I hope not,” Charley said.

  A long pause passed between them. The ceiling fan whirred in the background, chopping the silence into slivers too sharp to touch. Charley waited, lips closed. Nil had taught her patience and an appreciation of time, and timing. The next words belonged to Rika.

  A slight smile crossed Rika’s face.

  “So,” she drawled, “tell me why you wanted to see me. Tell me why I am so important to you.”

  “Because you told Skye’s uncle about his destiny, and how it wrapped the island from beginning to end. What does that mean? What did you see?”

  “You want this information why? So you can help your friend?” Rika’s dark eyes glittered with curiosity. “Or because you want to save your lover?”

  “Both,” Charley said without hesitation. “Helping one helps them all. I want to help them all get home safely and end this awful cycle once and for all.” She leaned forward. “You saw something, about the island’s end. You know what’s going to happen, right? How can we help them?”

  “Give me your hand,” Rika instructed.

  “What?” Charley asked, taken aback.

  “Your hand. Please.” With a flick of her hand, Rika gestured for Charley’s.

  Slowly Charley offered her right hand. Rika grabbed it, clutching it tightly as she inhaled. Without warning, Rika dropped Charley’s hand as if she’d been burned.

  “The answers you seek are already inside you,” Rika said. “They lie here”—she tapped the journal—“and here”—now she brushed Charley’s forehead. “And most certainly in here.” She gently pressed her palm over Charley’s heart, then withdrew it. “Now you know where to look, and where to tell your friends to search. Answers are not always pretty, or in pretty places. But they are always true.” She closed her eyes again. “Let the past guide the future, Charley. Study it. Learn from it. And so it will be.”

  When Rika lifted her eyes to Charley, sadness engulfed the brown depths, rich and rolling and heartbreaking. “I weep for you, my child. And for all of them. If they ignore the past, they will repeat it, that I see. You, my child, you must look for what you don’t see. And so must they.”

  Look for what you don’t see.

  It made no sense at all.

  “That’s my answer?” Charley asked, suddenly furious. She felt as though Rika was toying with her. If he were here, Thad would joke that Rika was in cahoots with Nil. But Thad wasn’t here; he was on Nil, and this conversation wasn’t funny at all. She was poised to leave with no more knowledge than when she came. “Look for what I don’t see?”

  Rika nodded. “It is one answer of many; there is always more than one answer to the same question, but only one is the truth. Only one will reveal the knowledge you seek.”

  Answers. Knowledge. Information.

  They are not the same, Charley thought. And she’d been given nothing at all.

  “Muffin? Sprite?” Rika offered politely.

  “No, thank you.” Charley’s tone was strained. “I don’t want a muffin or a Sprite. I don’t want water or coffee or tea. I want you to tell me exactly how I can help my friends. Maybe you know this, too, but I can hear Thad. Not all the time, but sometimes. So I think he can hear me, too.”

  Rika’s expression didn’t change.

  Charley continued speaking. “So if there’s something that can help them, please tell me. I’m begging you.”

  “Begging doesn’t become you.” Rika’s tongue sharpened, like her expression. “I never said it would be easy, or without work. You already have the answers you seek. Are you so lazy that you want me to spell it out for you, child? It doesn’t work that way. The end is written, but the middle—that is up to you. And them.”

  Charley worked to ask another question but her mind spun in circles—jumping to the end, the middle, the coming equinox gate, and more; she constantly stifled her overwhelming fear of losing Thad, believing fiercely that they would win instead. She would accept nothing else.

  “That’s it, child.” Rika nodded approvingly, her bone bracelets cracking together as she clasped her hands in her lap. “Fight. Don’t give in to the fear or fear will win. It gives power to the dark places.”

  Rika’s eyes dimmed and a single glistening tear ran down her cheek. “So much blood to come,” she whispered. “The island will bleed, and people you love will be lost. That is the end you seek, child. Prepare yourself.”

  Jumping to her feet, Charley stumbled away from the couch. She had to get away now. She couldn’t sit here another minute with this freaky woman who sent chills to her soul. “Thank you,” she said, backing away. “For talking to me. I have to go.”

  “Of course you do,” Rika rasped, her finger stroking her bracelets. “
Remember what I said. Fight the fear. And prepare for the end you crave so badly.”

  Charley burst out into the open air, breathing like she’d just run a thirteen-mile race. Her heart pounded against her ribs; her chest was tight.

  Behind her Rika called, “Child, don’t forget a muffin!”

  Pretending she didn’t hear, Charley mounted her bike and took off the way she had come. Wind bit her hair as she pedaled; sweat ran down her back. She didn’t stop. Not her legs pumping, or her mind racing.

  You already have the answers you seek, Rika had said as she’d tapped the journal.

  How is this possible? Charley thought. She knew the journal by heart; she’d read it so many times she could quote by rote, without error, any passage from any page. What could she possibly have missed?

  Look for what you don’t see.

  Rika spoke in vague phrases that meant nothing to Charley. It was as if Rika talked in riddles.

  Riddles, Charley thought, her mind following a trailing thread. A page of the journal flashed in her memory. Entry number thirteen. One line leaped out as if written in flames.

  Mazes and men, caves and creatures, ruins and riddles, all wrapped up in an island bottle.

  That’s it, she thought, braking to a stop. Certainty halted her panic like the douse of a fire. Thad needs to find the ruins and the riddle. Maybe the ruins were the riddle, she mused. Or maybe they were just part of it.

  Thad might know, if he could just hear her.

  Thad. She thought his name fiercely, with as much intensity and love and clarity as she could muster. Find the ruins, solve the riddle. Look for what you don’t see.

  She repeated this thought until her head ached from the effort. Then she stopped altogether, and tried to listen. Nothing. No reply from Thad, nothing at all. But she didn’t let that stop her from believing he had heard her.

  Thad, I love you. I believe in you. Look for what you don’t see.

  She started biking again, slowly this time. Rika would tell her no more, of that Charley felt certain. But perhaps Maaka might be willing to talk about island riddles. It was worth a try. She had absolutely nothing to lose, not here anyway. But she had everything to lose there, and she wouldn’t stop fighting to get her world back.