“What do you mean ‘not completely sure’…you have the map!”
“ Translated and decoded from an archaic language. I cracked the code used to write it — I think — and I translated it from memory. I told you this already.” Cross stared back down into the fire. He wasn’t going to stand up and argue. “I told you this.”
“ Then what’s the point?” Graves said with a shrug. “I mean, damn it, Cross, why aren’t we back in Thornn, waiting for the end in style instead of wandering around out here, watching our friends die one at a time…”
“ Because I’m going to find my sister!” Cross just avoided shouting. “If that’s all right with you.”
Graves shook with anger and futile frustration, well aware, Cross was sure, that there was nothing and no one around to take it out on. After a moment he sat down hard and wiped a hand over his face.
“ Sorry.”
“ It’s okay,” Cross laughed sourly.
“ I wouldn’t leave your sister out there,” Graves said. “I’m sorry.”
“ Listen,” Cross said. “It’s not like the world is going to end the second that Red gets there. The Old One is still trying to buy his way back into the graces of the Ebon Cities, right? She’ll give him what she’s got, and he’ll need to arrange things with the Grim Father. Everything is politics with the vampires. It’ll take some time.”
Graves looked puzzled.
“ One thing that’s always bugged me, Eric…why doesn’t she go straight to the suck heads?” he asked. “Why go through the Old One at all?”
“ I don’t know. Maybe he’s giving her something in exchange for her information. Maybe she’s his girlfriend. Maybe the vampires just won’t talk to her directly. I don’t know.”
Cross looked up past the heat blur of the campfire and into the night sky. He knew how exposed they were, and how easy it would be to spot them from a distance, but for some reason he didn’t think they’d have any more trouble that night. It was almost like he’d regained a sensation of the surrounding areas, a heightened sense of what was where.
It was almost as if he had his spirit back.
“ We need to stop in Rhaine,” he said after he rechecked the maps again. “If I’m reading Cristena’s maps right, there isn’t really a way of actually getting across the Carrion Rift from this far west, but there’s a bridge and a pass to the east, right within a few klicks of the city.”
Graves nodded.
“ We’ll get supplies,” Cross continued. “We can leave Stone or Cristena there, if we have to. Maybe we can get a message out to Thornn.”
“ Wow,” Graves laughed. “Listen to you, Squad Leader.”
“ No,” Cross laughed nervously. “I’m pretty sure you’re in charge, actually. Chain of Command, and all.”
“ Ah, to Hell with that. You’re doing great. I’m not much for giving orders.” Graves stared out into the night. “Do you think Snow is ok?”
“ I don’t know,” Cross said. “It’s been driving me crazy. I keep trying not to think about it, but…”
“ But then I bring it up.”
“ No, no…I can’t help but worry. I hope she is. I hope she’s okay.” Cross stared into the loathsome dark. “She’s all I have left.”
“ I know,” Graves said.
“ I can’t imagine losing her.”
“ Yeah,” Graves smiled. “Look, she’ll be fine. Red may be a bitch, but she’s not stupid. Snow is a hostage, after all. And besides…is Red a tracker?”
“ I don’t know,” Cross said. Not all witches were trackers. In all her years as Thornn’s leader and the voice of the White Mother, Red — Margrave — had never displayed any of a tracker’s talents. “You know, Sam, I’d never thought of that. Powerful or not, I’m guessing Red must’ve had the same problems with that translation as I did…I mean, don’t get me wrong, my map is pretty good, but having a tracker with us will help when we get closer to the mark. Cristena can navigate the arcane streams and follow the trace lines once we’re close enough to Koth. She can get us there when the map can’t give us any more useful information.” His heart lifted at the thought. “Maybe Red will need that kind of help, too.”
And maybe, just maybe, that means Snow is still alive.
“ She’s going to be all right,” Graves said.
“ You think so?” Cross said, sadly. The crackle of the campfire popped loudly in his ears. “I keep thinking about our childhood, Sam. I keep thinking about all of the things she and I did, all of the…memories. Stupid things, really. Just us, together. And I keep thinking about…about what a terrible brother I’ve been to her lately.”
They sat in silence for a time.
“ I felt the same way, when my Dad died,” Graves said at last. “Like I’d been a horrible son. Like I should have spent more time with him. Trust me, Eric…it doesn’t help.” He looked right at Cross. “What’s done is done. Do what you can now to make things right.”
Graves finished cleaning the weapons, and then he retired to sleep.
Cross stared at the fire for a long time. He couldn’t stop shaking.
SEVENTEEN
Cross sat first watch. He used coffee and warm porridge to stay awake and alert. He jumped at every shadow, and he felt dwarfed by the shotgun in his hands and by the utter and fathomless black of the surrounding night. Cricket song filled the air with an almost ear-grating intensity. Cross wanted to set the forest on fire just so they’d shut up.
He couldn’t feel his spirit with him at any point during the long night, so he stayed up alone, at the edge of nowhere. He distracted himself with the maps he’d already gone over a dozen times, or by checking on Stone and Cristena for any signs of worsening conditions. Finally, after it felt like years had passed while Cross had waited for something to pounce at him from out of the dark, Graves woke for his shift, and Cross went to sleep. He didn’t dream.
In the morning, Graves woke him with a hard nudge.
“ Wake up, pal,” he said in a whisper. Cross struggled and moaned for a moment before he saw Graves' face. “Morning! We’re screwed.”
Cross opened his eyes the rest of the way.
The forest had changed.
They were in the middle of a twisted copse that looked absolutely nothing like the spot they’d camped in the night before. It was as if the entire campsite had been relocated to the middle of some dead woods webbed with shadows.
“ What the hell…?” Cross stammered.
“ Yep,” Graves said. “I have no idea what happened.”
“ Did you fall asleep?”
Graves gave him a look.
“ Bite me. I never fall asleep on watch. That’s you.” Graves turned around in a quick circle and scanned the area. “I checked on Stone, I checked on Cristena, I made a fresh pot of coffee, I looked up, and…this.”
Something cracked loudly deeper in the forest. Cross thought it sounded like a tree being snapped like a twig. The grey morning air was heavy with dew and mist, and it was impossible to see anything past about fifty yards. The ground shook as if shaken by a preposterously large footfall. Cross smelled hex and toxins in the air.
“ We have to get the hell out of here,” he said.
“ You think?!” Graves snapped.
“ Let’s get them up, and grab what we can.”
Graves tried to rouse Stone. Cross, seized by a notion, quickly tossed through their belongings and pulled apart blankets, tore open bags and kicked aside cooking pots.
