The Archer: Arrow's Flight Book # 2 Read online

  Max stays with us in the clearing, passing the time by repeatedly flipping his pocket knife through the air and into the very center of a knothole in a tree a few paces away. His skill is quite remarkable. I watch him for several minutes.

  “You’re very good,” I finally say. “With the knife.”

  He tosses me a smile as he walks to the tree and plucks up his knife.

  “Thanks. Been practicing all my life. Figured it might come in handy someday.”

  He backs away from the tree. One flick of his wrist and the knife impales the knothole again.

  “I suppose you know a lot about knives, then?” I ask. “You knew that whoever threw the knife at Ian wasn’t trying to kill him.”

  He pulls the knife free again, folds it, and shoves it into his pocket.

  “That’s right. Otherwise, they would have aimed at his left side. Where his heart is located.”

  “How do you know they didn’t simply miss?”

  “I don’t. But based on the distance you both say that knife covered, whoever threw it knew what they were doing.”

  I nod. “And if not to kill him, why do you suppose they threw it?”

  He shrugs and squints at me. “I suppose they wanted to see what would happen. And now they know.”

  He says nothing more. He moves to the porch and sits on the top step, a bottle of water in his hand.

  I leave Diana and move to sit in the shade of a tall, pine tree across the clearing. I want to be alone for awhile—to think. My mind is heavy with thoughts of Ian, and they make me anxious.

  There is no sign of him.

  We must stay together. This is all the boys have asked of Ian. It’s a fair request in my mind. But it has fueled agitation. Agitation over me. My presence brings his overprotective nature to the surface.

  If only I could find a way to curb this instinct in him. He said he could be trained, but how? An unease spreads throughout me with each moment that crawls by without his return. I nibble on a thumbnail.

  And then, my thoughts scamper down darker avenues, blackening my already sinking heart.

  What if he doesn’t come back at all?

  What if it’s all a lie, and there is no Eden?

  What if we’ve been deceived? This is a trap? We’re going to die?

  What if he doesn’t come back?

  What if he doesn’t come back?

  These fears tumble around inside my head until, eventually, my despair over him diffuses into anger, and I hear Ian’s words. “There is only the present. What if never happens.”

  I clench my fists in firm resistance to my avalanching thoughts. And I close my eyes and breathe deeply. There is only the present. And presently, Ian is absent.

  “Hey.”

  Justin’s long shadow casts itself over me. It wavers for a moment, and then he sits down. He pulls his knees up and casually hangs his hands over them—and he sighs.

  “I’m sorry about Ian. He can be a little hot-tempered sometimes.”

  He tells me nothing I don’t know, and when I don’t respond, he adds, “I figured he’d be back by now.”

  He raises a bottle to his lips, swallows the last of his water. I study the grass at my feet.

  “Look, I’ve known him all my life. Sometimes, he does this. He just has to get away. Cool down. Think things through. It’s better than the alternative.”

  “Which is?” I ask. I can’t imagine what could be worse than what we witnessed this morning.

  “Major anger explosion.” He smiles, defeated. “All right. I guess that was the alternative. I’ve been the recipient of it before.” He adjusts his jaw dramatically. “He broke it good.”

  “Is this how you all handle every issue?”

  Justin raises a brow and hesitates for only a moment. “No. We’re pretty peaceful.”

  I have to disagree as the recent memory of Ian jabbing a knife through Jesse’s back invades.

  “But, I guess . . . you know about us, so I’ll just say it.” He shakes his head, raising a hand in resignation. “It’s easier for us to snap, to take risks, to do things without thinking first when we know we can’t be permanently injured. I guess,it kind of gives us license. It’s not right, but it is what it is.”

  I stare out across the mass of trees surrounding us. Jesse trudges by with an armful of kindling, stopping to speak to Max before slipping into the cabin. His face is healed. I run my thumb across the deep scar on my wrist, think of the ugly scars that grace my back.

  “Why do I endure him?” I say absently before I realize I’ve said it aloud.

  Justin shrugs in a way that should explain it all so clearly. “Because . . . you love him. We all do.”

  My eyes dart in his direction.

  “What would life be like without Ian?” he concludes.

  I sigh, closing my eyes. It’s too late for me to find out. I’ve savored the warmth of his kiss. The feel of his hand against my back just at the waist, fingers spread wide. The intensity of overly-blue eyes boring into me—speaking to me. His pulse rocking my palm. Passionate outbursts coupled with gentleness. No. There is no turning back to a time before there was Ian. He is forever a part of my life. Nothing can change it.

  I lift my head, and he’s there at the edge of the tree line. I straighten; Justin notices, his head turning slightly to take in his friend. My heart beats, a thump, thump against my throat. I am acutely aware of it as I count the number of steps it takes for him to reach us.

  “Hi.” He slips out of his quiver—which is missing an arrow—and lets it fall to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair.

  “Hey, dude.” Justin stands, and they exchange their strange handshake. “You all right now?”

  Ian purses his lips, but he nods, his eyes finding me. “I’m good.”

  He shoves his hands into his pockets. No broken arm.

  “Jesse around?” he asks, and Justin gestures with his head toward the cabin.

  “I have a solution if you’re willing,” Justin offers, a hope in his tone. Ian stiffens, his eyes fixed on his friend. “If we have to run again, Jesse takes Kate.”

  Ian stands perfectly still, and a nervous tingling slithers through me, raising every hair on every inch of my body as I anticipate his response.

  “No,” Ian answers, calmly and evenly. “Kate stays with me.”

  “Ian . . .” Justin’s voice is laced with irritation. “It’s the best option. You let someone else carry her, and you’ll stay with us.”

  I’m frozen, listening to this conversation that involves me but somehow doesn’t. Somehow it’s bigger, and I watch Ian’s thoughts spin, his eyes dancing. I can tell he sees the sense in it, even though he doesn’t want to. Eventually, he shakes his head.

  “I’ll stay with the group.”

  “You won’t,” Justin shoves his own hands into his pockets. “Your survival stem kicks in, and you don’t even realize how fast we disappear in your dust before you’ve lost us. It’s been that way ever since the Shift.”

  I gape at them. Justin suddenly seems to remember I’m here, and he shuts down, his eyes wavering.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  He moves across the grass to the cabin. Ian smiles at me. I pull at a tuft of grass, and neither one of us moves. Soon, the silence is unbearable, and I have to speak.

  “Are you going to do what he says?” I ask.

  “Probably.” He sounds annoyed. He takes a step, and his hand glides gently over my hair. “I shouldn’t have left like that. In fact, none of that should have happened.”

  His words are quiet, full of repentance. I say nothing.

  “Kate . . .”A huge sigh explodes with my name. He sits beside me. “I forget sometimes how strong you are. You don’t need me to rescue you. That’s my problem. I can’t get myself to stop trying to rescue you.”

  I frown. My hands are shaking, and I squeeze them into fists to steady them. He reaches for me; I edge away.

  “Please don’t do this, Kate. I’m ju
st—I’m afraid—”

  He cuts his words short.

  “Afraid of what?” I ask.

  “So many things.” He sighs, and the sound is clouded with desperation “That this life will disappoint you. That you will resent me. That you won’t . . . be able to love me.”

  I narrow my eyes, mull over his words, and a tiny ache—seemingly small and insignificant and constantly gnawing at me pinches once more.

  “Do you remember the Pit?” I whisper. He raises his head, surprised. His blue eyes glint once, but I hold my gaze steady. “I need you to remember how it felt.”

  He visibly swallows. I reach for him.

  “I need you, as much as you needed me then.” I whisper. And he squeezes me to him. I peer up into his anxious eyes. “And . . . do you plan to disappointment me?”

  “No!” His sharp answer dissolves into tenderness. He slides to the ground and kneels before me, eyes intense. “No.”

  “Then don’t.”

  For the first time in a long time, he sees me. His eyes soften into a kind of understanding that is edged with regret. I grab two fistfuls of his jacket and shake once.

  “You’re the only thing I’m not afraid of out here. Do you understand me?”

  A drop of rain hits the ground, and Ian’s lips suddenly collide with mine as he gathers me into his arms, pulling me so close to him that not even the air itself separates us.

  The clouds open in a sudden gush and come crashing down upon us.

  I hardly notice.

  Chapter 8

  Ian makes peace with Jesse in the orange light of the fire tonight. I watch with curiosity from my sleeping bag tucked against the back wall of the cabin. Jesse lays a firm but gentle hand on Ian’s shoulder. Ian hangs his head and nods. Their emotions rode in on an explosion, and now, they die out like smoldering embers until there is no fire left in them. No evidence of broken bones or leftover bruises as reminders.

  In Justin’s words, Ian’s “field trip” prevented us from traveling while the weather was calm. Ian doesn’t react to Justin’s admonishing words in the same way he did Jesse’s. In fact, he seems humbled by them, taking all the blame for why we made no progress toward Eden today.

  The winds rage outside, causing the walls of the cabin to creak in response. I do my best to avoid thoughts of Fate. We had our share of thunderstorms in the Village, but never like these, and the thoughts incessantly nip at me like cold rain in my face.

  I sigh and roll onto my side, my back to the boys, who lounge around the fire. They speak in low voices, laughing ever so often. My mind is on the Village. It seems so far away—that other life with the other girl whose only goal was undermining Mona’s authority. I think fleetingly of how safe it was to be a rebel then. It was easy, really, when the only consequence I had to fear was Mona’s wrath. Nothing more.

  I wonder what kind of rebel I will make now.

  Diana fusses with Tabitha, snuggling her into the sleeping bag. She lies down with a sigh, tosses one arm over her head, and stares at the ceiling. After a moment, she rolls over to face me, careful not to wake Tabitha. My fingers absently play with the dark end of my braid. Diana raises a hand to trace Tabitha’s tiny, sleeping face. After a moment, her quiet voice reaches me through the dancing shadows that skitter off the walls in the firelight.

  “Do you still trust Ian?”

  I tug on the braid. I know what she thinks. We saw the words of our history lessons come to life before us today. She’s wary, and I can’t blame her. We lie quietly for a few moments before I can muster an answer.

  “I saw many sides of Ian in the Pit. Some of them were not pleasant. He is stubborn, and he is hot-tempered.”

  A gust of wind kicks up outside rattling the wall as if in agreement with my statement. I pull the covering up to my chin to seal out the chill that seeps in with it. Diana carefully pulls Tabitha closer to share her own warmth.

  “But then there’s the side of him that draws me,” I whisper. “And it reminds me of why I trust him.”

  She smiles. “Yes. The part that loves him. Because there is such a thing as love in this world after all.”

  She teases me, I know, but I only smile in return and flip over to stare at the ceiling. There are stains and knotholes in the wood. Some are small and barely noticeable in the dark, but the bigger ones are easier to see. I survey them until I find one that resembles a teardrop, and I trace it with my eyes over and over.

  “Are you not the smallest bit afraid of him?” she asks.

  My eyes trace the teardrop once, twice more, as I consider her question. I was afraid. In fact, there were times when I was terrified of the Ian who waited for me in the Pit. The one who could be contained with a bamboo gate. The one who insisted he was going insane, and once gave me a hard slap because of it. That Ian frightened me beyond words on some days.

  Of course, that was when I was the other Kate.

  But this Ian? The one who could kill someone with the swat of his hand? The one who can run with me in his arms for unmeasured time without tiring? The one who makes me feel safe, even in all his unpredictability?

  “No,” I whisper. “I am not afraid of him at all.”

  “And should you be? Because he scares me. They all do just a little.”

  “I’ll admit, there are things about all of them that are . . . frightening. They are most assuredly like nothing we’ve seen before.”

  “But why are they like this?” Diana’s voice floods with whispered concern. “What causes them to have these abilities? They’re extraordinary!”

  “I’m not quite sure,” I tug on my braid again. “Something in the air in Eden long ago... after the Fall. Ian has never fully explained it to me. Frankly, I’m not sure he knows the answer.”

  “The Fall,” she repeats. “This was the war?”

  I nod. “It is what they call it. Once Mona called it the same.”

  We are quiet after this.

  “I do trust him,” I say. “He’s given me reason to.”

  I hear only Diana’s quiet breathing in return. She’s fallen asleep, and I realize my words were for me alone. They are a mixture sweet and bitter on my tongue. What comes next for us in this new life? And will my love for Ian be enough to face our future together? My heart crushes in a little on itself with these thoughts because I truly don’t know the answers.

  “Diana?” I whisper. Her soft breathing answers, but I speak my heart anyway. “I want you to know that I am grateful you left the Village with me. I never told you how terrified I felt when I thought I would have to go alone.”

  Outside, the wind moans a solemn song. It rings of misery like the insanity of a woman too afraid to vocalize her fears in the daylight. And I feel insane lying here having a conversation with myself that only this mad woman in the wind can hear. But I doubt I will say these things again. I want to tell Diana that I long to be as strong as she, but I am certain I will never touch the outskirts of her strength. What she has done—placing her children ahead of her own desires and comforts—magnifies the strength of a love I have never tasted. It is an unselfish courage that will rise above everything else.

  I listen to the easy chatter of the boys by the fire, and I close my eyes. I cannot think anymore tonight. Soon, my mind is a blank wall of blackness that lures me into a deep sleep.

  Diana shakes me awake in the early hours of the morning. Her face is a white sheet of horror.

  “What is it?”

  She grips Tabitha close to her chest, rocking her furiously. The baby squawks, a hoarse, raspy sound deep in her lungs. I rest a hand against her cheek.

  “Something is wrong, Kate. Her flesh is burning.”

  The touch of her skin ignites a fire in my fingertips. Diana’s lip quivers.

  “What do we do?” She lays a cheek against Tabitha’s forehead.

  The boys have sprawled out across the floor of the cabin. Jesse snores heavily. Max is buried deep in his sleeping bag, face and all. Only the black curls of his
head are visible. Ian lies flat on his back on top of a blanket, his mouth open wide. I go to him.

  “Ian!” Kneeling, I shake him roughly. He grunts and turns away, swatting at me. I shove again, hard. “Ian!”

  “What’s the matter, Kate?”

  Justin raises his head from where he sleeps across the room, hair tussled and eyes groggy with sleep.

  “It’s Tabitha.”

  I gesture for him to come. He lumbers to his feet and kneels in front of Diana, testing the baby’s skin. Her head disappears beneath his large hand.

  “She’s burning up.”

  “Why is this?” Diana’s eyes are wide with a fear I’ve only seen once before—the day they came to take her newborn son away. “What could have caused her to get sick?”

  Justin shrugs, sympathy lacing his voice for her sake. “The wet weather. The traveling. She could have come into contact with something she’s allergic to. It could be anything.”

  He goes to his pack and returns with a flashlight, checking her eyes. She whimpers in the sudden brightness. His jaw tenses.

  “She’s really sick,” he confirms.

  My gut tightens. In the Village, sick babies rarely get well. Most never get the chance. A sick baby is disposed of very quickly to prevent a disease from spreading to the rest of the clan. Diana glances at me with these thoughts evident behind her frightful eyes. I tremble and place a hand on the baby’s tiny arm.

  “Can you help her?” I’m desperate, searching his face. He frowns, deep in thought.

  “The rainwater should be pretty cold. We can drench her in it. Try to bring down the fever.”

  At his pack, he pulls out several pans, not bothering to keep quiet. They clatter against the floor. Jesse springs straight up out of his sleeping bag.

  “What—what is it?”

  He rubs at his eyes. His mind hasn’t quite caught up with his suddenly alert body. After a moment, he lies back sound asleep. Ian props himself up on an elbow, eying Justin sleepily.