Chapter 55
CHAPTER
THAD
Today was my day.
I felt it—when I woke up, when we picked the Flower Field as the day’s hot spot, and when Charley squeezed my hand a second ago. Today felt right. Or maybe I just wanted it to be right. Want, need, entwined in a blur of desperation, choking me so tight I was incapable of separating the two.
Charley’s voice sucked me back from my mental black hole.
“Scan the field,” she said, her eyes busy. “I’ve got the north edge.”
Tick-tock. Seconds passed, then minutes. I felt noon slip when Charley shouted.
“There!” she cried, pointing.
Meters away, the writhing wall of air whispered my name as it rose. Come, Thad. Run.
“Run!” Charley yelled, pulling my hand.
I took off, Charley by my side, her hand tight in mine. The gate was glorious, winking with outbound perfection. Abruptly, clarity struck—as crisp and clear as the cloudless Nil sky—and in that moment, I knew: I couldn’t win. Because even when I caught the gate, I would lose.
I would lose Charley.
Just run, I told myself. Charley’s feet paced mine.
The gate rolled fast, skimming the north edge of the Flower Field. It was a racer, a single. Three meters away, the air glittered like sunlight bouncing off of snow.
I looked at Charley, certain I would shatter, even before I felt the burn of the gate. “I love you.”
“As I love you.” She grinned. “No regrets. See you on the flip side!” Then she let go.
In my peripheral vision, Charley spun out of gate range.
Heat leaked from the gate; it was like approaching an oven set on full broil, and I was about to throw myself in. As I braced for the burn, a sickly looking orange cat darted from the field, brushed my ankle, and shot into the gate.
Charley screamed as the cat shimmered; I fought to stop, windmilling my arms to get away before the gate zapped me to death. Millimeters from my nose, the gate snapped shut with an audible hiss.
It was gone. So was the cat.
And I was still right here.
“Well, that sucked,” I said. I rested my hands on my hips as I fought to catch my breath. My quads trembled; I couldn’t make them stop.
Charley threw her arms around me. “If you’d have hit that gate—” She shook her head, holding me tight.
I rested my head against hers. “But I didn’t.”
For a long moment, we just stood there. I had no clue who was holding who, and it didn’t matter. We were together. And I was still alive.
“Holy crap,” Charley murmured, her breathing almost normal. “That gate was yours. We were right there. And some crazy cat stole it and almost killed you in the process. What’s up with all these frickin’ cats?”
“You know how Nil loves to play with kitties. Gates are like catnip. It’s weird.”
“It’s awful.” Letting go, she sat on a rock. Her expression was half shocked, half furious. “To be so close only to have it stolen by something so random, especially something that looked half dead.”
“Nothing like Nil to try to save a cat with one foot in the grave.” My voice was bitter. Forcing a smile, I sat beside Charley and took her hand in mine.
“No,” Charley said. “It wasn’t Nil, it was random. Cats are like a wild card, literally.”
That was when I knew Charley didn’t get Nil. Maybe Nil hadn’t found the chink in Charley’s armor of goodness; maybe Charley didn’t have one. Nil wasn’t in Charley’s head—at least not yet, and I hoped not ever.
Because I knew better.
This was Nil’s playground, where Nil watched and cackled and called every last shot.
She knew that cat was primed and ready to run, just like us.
Nil flashed gates where she pleased, using gates to change the game, bringing new contestants and threats to add to her fun.
Right now Nil was enjoying herself way too much with us to let me go: watching us hope, watching us struggle.
Today’s gate was a calculated Nil move. Here, kitty, she’d crooned, crooking her island finger and calling for trouble.
Run and I’ll let you go. But you, Thad, will stay.
Thinking of Ramia, I shuddered.
Watching me, Charley frowned.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said, unwilling to tell her she was wrong. I refused to give Nil any advantage, not when it came to Charley. The warmth in Charley’s hand was a grounding force, a reminder of what was real and what mattered.
Charley looked at our hands. “I hate this. I mean, I’m so happy to have you for another day, but—that cat robbed you.” Her voice went flat. “I was ready. I was ready to say good-bye, dreading it but ready, and you got robbed.”
“I know.” I rubbed my thumb over her palm. “I know.”
For a minute, we just sat there, holding hands, not speaking.
“Did you ever see that old movie, Groundhog Day?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Well, it’s about this guy who lives the same day over and over.
Noon is like that for me. We just keep saying good-bye, over and over.
And then when noon’s over and you’re still here, it’s great, but it’s also terrible.
And it’s worse than that stupid movie, because when we wake up, it’s not the same day, it’s another day, gone. ”
I stared at Charley’s hand in mine. “For me, noon is like that moment when I’m on the mountain, behind the start line and the horn’s about to blow.
I’m running through the course in my head.
I’m amped and ready; I’ve got my head straight—and then it’s like someone canceled the race.
Without warning, they just said, ‘Not today. Come back tomorrow.’ And then I just get jacked up all over again, ready to fly, ready to go.
” I swallowed, hard. “Ready to say good-bye.”
She nodded, then laughed, a weird hollow sound.
“That word: good-bye. I get that, too. Because when you catch a gate, it’ll be good.
Better than good, it’ll be great. But it’s still a farewell.
” Charley paused. “The crazy thing is, when noon passes, it’s like a gift.
Another twenty-three hours together, guaranteed, that no one can take away.
” She looked at me, her face full of guilt.
“I know I shouldn’t be telling you this—I feel like I’m confessing, and I’m not even Catholic—but I’m totally dreading our good-bye. ”
Understatement, I thought. Charley had no idea how much I dreaded leaving her behind.
Maybe I’d started out as her island guide, but along the way I’d become more like her shield, her protection against the darkness of Nil.
And I feared that without me, she’d be vulnerable.
But it wasn’t my choice; it was Nil’s. The cat was cruel evidence of that.
“Me too,” I said, squeezing her hand. “But it’s temporary. It’ll all work out. Plenty of time, remember?”
Despair washed over her face, and my heart dropped. Her mind had leaped ahead; she’d already done the math.
Less than twenty-four hours until tomorrow’s noon.