Chapter Twenty-Nine
Shear
No matter how hard I pushed, how much strength I put into my probes, I could find no sign of Yun.
Well, there was this dark space and, judging from what we understood of the dungeon, that was where the heart was—and thus her. However, anytime I tried to sense in that direction, I found nothing. Just silence, so heavy that I knew it wasn’t natural.
“This is what you need?” the elemental esper asked, the same woman who we’d run into at first, holding a large pack.
They wouldn’t have normally given us restocks of anything, but a few quick messages had worked wonders.
Or rather, Kaidan had worked wonders.
The guide had actually dared to step into the dungeon, something guides never did. The fact he had even been allowed went to show his power within the Guild, the number of favors he held over those in command.
“Did you get it?” he asked in my head. I hadn’t known to make that connection until he’d had a mentalist at the portal reach out first, allowing me to find his mind, to lock in so we could communicate.
“Yes. She just arrived.”
“Good. I had everything you could need packed. I could—”
“No.” I shook my head as though he could see that. “There is no way you are coming farther into this dungeon. The fact that you even breached the portal is nearly unthinkable.”
“I am not so fragile as you think, and Yun is more than my friend—she is family. I can’t just stay here and do nothing.”
“And if you come deeper in and risk yourself? I fear Yun far more than I fear your displeasure. We are going to come back with her, and when we do, you had better be waiting.”
The hesitation from Kaidan went to show he didn’t love that idea.
It again made me wonder about the two of them, about their bond.
It was good for Yun, a bond that existed outside of us, but that didn’t mean I liked it.
The idea of anyone else having a part of her pushed at territorial and possessive instincts I hadn’t known I possessed.
The idea that he would venture into The Pitt just to help went to prove how much she meant to him, which was the exact reason we couldn’t allow it. We couldn’t risk the one real friend she had.
Shear opened the backpack as Carter spoke to the esper. She had a connection to Jin as well, which meant she was getting an update from us on our progress.
Or severe lack of progress, in this case.
Inside the duffle bag were more weapons, including the ones that Ingram would want to wear.
They’d also sent clothing and armor, the gear that we would normally have worn.
It hadn’t been a priority before, but now that things had gone to hell, we needed every last bit of help we could get, every advantage afforded to us.
Because we couldn’t fail at this. Anything else, fine, but not this. This mattered, so if we had to beg and plead and throw our egos away to save Yun, that was fine by me.
The backpack had medical supplies, including drugs that Ingram might have enjoyed on a normal Tuesday, but for us might mean staying in the fight when our bodies had all but given up. There was food and fresh water, along with another tablet, as though they expected the first might break.
My normal distrust would have caused me to question what we’d been given, but I could deal with those issues later. Once we had Yun back and safely home, none of this nonsense would matter. We could handle any new threats at that time.
“She’s afraid,” Kaidan said, almost a whisper.
“You can feel her?”
“No, I just know her. Do you know how we became friends?”
“She never said.”
“The Guild assumed that her trauma was from an attack in the San Diego ruins, since a dead monster was found near her. They thought that a monster had slipped through and caused her awakening as a guide, and they assigned her to me to train. She told me the truth of what happened, though.”
I’d known Kaidan had a good idea about her past, but I hadn’t realized he’d known for so long, that he’d been with the only other one she’d told. In many ways, that further explained their close bond, explained why she relied on him as she did.
He kept speaking, a tension there that made it clear he didn’t like the topic.
“She had nightmares every single night. She woke up screaming, and no matter what I did, none of it seemed to help. That place—and him—are her biggest fears. There is no way she could be there, alone, and not be terrified.”
“We’re going to find her,” I reassured him—or maybe it was just to reassure myself. “No matter what happens, we’ll deal with Corsa.”
“You say that, but you don’t have a history of sacrifice, of making others important. That’s what I told her before, that you all may have loyalty to each other, but that doesn’t mean you do to anyone else.”
“We’re here, aren’t we? We’re risking ourselves now for her.”
“No, it’s different. Right now you’re playing a game.
You’re willing to fight for her because fighting is what you do, because it’s who you are.
The question is whether or not you’re willing to stop fighting for her.
Can you give up everything for her? Do what scares you most?
” He asked each question as though he already knew the answer to it, and that answer wasn’t good.
“If you have so little faith in us, why are you helping us?”
“Because I have no other choice. I might want to do more, but I know I couldn’t do it alone. So I’ve got to trust in you all because you’re the only hope, even if I don’t have much faith in it, or you.”
I didn’t care for his answer, but that didn’t matter. It was what it was, and he had good reason to believe as he did, to fear, to wonder if we were able to do what needed to be done.
As much as I wanted to tell him otherwise, even I couldn’t say for sure.
If anyone understood how little people knew about themselves, I did.
I’d seen countless people so certain that they would react in a specific way, but when the time came, when it all boiled down to that moment, they didn’t follow through.
We never truly knew what we might do.
So as much as I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I’d give anything for Yun, I didn’t know what would happen if I was asked to surrender to save her. Fighting? Sure, as Kaidan said, that was easy, but to lay down those powers? To accept darkness and uncertainty in the hopes of saving her?
“And that hesitation is why I don’t trust you. Still, I hope you bring her back. If you come back without her, trust that I will make it my mission to ensure you suffer far more than she ever did.”
And I couldn’t blame him for the threat, because I had a feeling that even without him, that would happen regardless.
“Fuck,” Carter said, drawing my attention from the little mental chat we were having.
“Return through the portal. We’re done here,” I said, feeling the dissipation of that link when he exited the dungeon as I walked over to where Carter stood with the others, including the esper woman.
I nearly asked what the problem was until I glanced down and found it.
There, in the dirt, was a body. An esper—or rather a corrupted, judging from the hum of energy that still escaped the body. Her body was twisted but lax, clearly dead, especially given the state of her.
Her skin had deep claw marks—not from an animal, not from a monster, but from something far more blunt.
The ragged state of her own nails said she’d done it, that she’d dug and ripped and torn her own flesh from her face, her throat, her chest, every exposed inch of her was covered in marks.
Her arm sat at an unnatural angle, her ribs bent inward.
Had she been thrown first?
I bent down to examine her more closely. She had been dead for less than an hour, which meant tiny sparks of life still rested deep inside her brain. Not enough to revive her—and we wouldn’t dare with a corrupted—but enough to leave slight echoes.
It all screamed the same thing—Corsa. His dark energy, his tight grip, it all rested inside this woman’s gray matter.
“Corsa did it,” I said without rising from my crouch, the body there like a warning.
That showed what we faced, the true danger of the man we had thought gone for ten years, the nightmare of Yun’s.
I took one more deep breath then stood. Knowing the risks didn’t change our course. Corsa had something precious to us, and we wouldn’t stop until we had her back.