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Ash calls this fresh misery “camping.” The best part about it is it comes at the end of a long day of “travel” and takes place in “nature”—which it turns out I also hate.
I collapse on a thin mat that does little to shield me from the lumpy, cold ground because after hours of perching on Ash’s two-wheeled nightmare contraption, sitting is no longer an option. I can’t decide which is worse: my numb tailbone, my bruised and rubbed-raw shoulders, my aching arms, or my much-abused hands.
That’s an exaggeration—it’s still the hands.
Ash is busy cheerfully rustling around in the huge pack he made me wear all day and pretending everything is fine. I practice clear communication and asserting my desires every time he gives me an opening.
“Comfortable?”
“I want to go home.”
“You look cold. Why don’t you scoot over and sit by the fire for a bit?”
“Take me home.”
He unfastens the top of his jacket and tugs at the fabric below, unspooling a surprising length of fine woven fabric in rich, deep hues. Once the whole scarf is detached from his person, he shakes it out and makes as if to drape it around me. I back out of range, arms raised defensively.
He shrugs and tucks the scarf back under his jacket, then goes back to rummaging in his pack. “You must be hungry. Here, try some of this.”
I ignore the spicy-smelling thing. “I’m going back with or without you.”
“Yeah? How?” Cadence says. “Do you even know which direction Refuge’s in?”
I hook my thumb at the gravel track we rode in on. Ash leans over and adjusts my aim until I’m pointing at a dense clump of prickly-looking trees.
“That way. It’d take maybe a week walking if you don’t count the forests, ravines, mountains, starvation, monster-infested ruins—oh, and there’s the river.”
I grimace. We had spent most of the afternoon skirting the river’s banks, and had crossed it twice. Four times for Ash, really. He’d insisted on walking me across the skeletal bridges and going back to wheel his bike across in a separate trip each time for safety.
Fun fact: it turns out my city was far from the only place overrun by monsters when the old world ended. Nearly every once-settlement or body of water seems to hide a threat. So, not only do we have crumbling and washed-out bridges to contend with, but also a remarkable assortment of monsters lurking below the surface, eager to lunge up and snag unsuspecting passers-by.
“Feel free to head on out,” Cadence says. “Not like I can stop you anyway.”
“Cady, enough,” Ash says. “Cole, just hang in there until we get you home. The council can sort you two out.”
I perk up despite myself at the word “home.” But the place he means is strange to me; so far away up in the mountains it seems almost make-believe.
Something tickles my arm.
I swat. It splats. The resulting smear makes me gag and reel away from my mat.
Ash jumps up to follow. I wave him off.
“Come sit closer to the fire.” He pats a patch of trampled grass. “The bugs will leave you alone.”
“Nah, you’ll just be able to see them coming,” Cadence says.
Something buzzes past my head. I stomp back to the pool of flickering light. Ash reaches for my arm. I jerk away, but he’s only wiping leftover bug guts off with his sleeve.
Note to self: avoid Ash’s sleeve. And Cadence is right; it’s worse near the fire. Black flecks zip around, making me all the more conscious of the infested, buzzing shadows outside our little circle. I bat at everything that comes within reach, trying to chase the little beasts off, but they just keep coming back for more.
Ash watches me flail in silence for a bit. Then he sighs and that silvery light of his stirs. It radiates from his skin until there’s a misty halo standing out a few inches all around him. He holds out an arm and waves it to show me how the bugs bounce off.
“Human insect repellent,” Cadence says. “That’s a new one. Did you come up with it on your own?”
“This really cool girl I used to know discovered it.” His tone is light, teasing.
“Can’t’ve been—what did you say you call her now? Mogwai?—and no chance it was Banshee, nor her sisters, not likely . . . Aleya, then? Not Qareen! No? Oh, come on. I know all your friends, don’t I?”
Her agitation surprises me.
“It’s you. You’re the friend.” Ash’s grin fades. His voice drops to a whisper. “You—you’re serious? You don’t remember?”
The fire pops. Some of the wood collapses, sending up a spray of sparks. I flail at yet more bugs, irritated by both my missing abilities and Cadence’s history with Ash. A history I’m not a part of.
I know we’re technically the same person—at least, we definitely were—but it sure doesn’t feel that way. I also know I’m supposed to be over their shared past. Apparently, that hard-earned clarity is yet another thing I’ve lost.
“Gotcha!” says Cadence. Her laughter sounds forced. “Come on, did you really think I’d forget? Just, um, keeping you honest.”
“Uh, right. Good one . . . ”
But he relaxes, picking up a bit of wood and tossing it in the fire. The wind shifts, blowing smoke in my face. I cough, eyes watering against the bitter onslaught.
“C’mere.” Ash reaches out and pulls me closer, keeping one arm slung over my shoulders.
I elbow him away. He gasps, curling a little before he catches himself and shakes it off. Oops—clearly he still hasn’t fully recovered from his injuries.
He also kidnapped me and dragged me out here in the first place.
I still feel bad, but now I’m angry too.
“Just let me—” Ash reaches around me again with comically exaggerated caution and waves his arms in demonstration. “See? It’ll keep the bugs off and filter the smoke.”
I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them in a painfully rigid posture, but I don’t move away. Ash keeps one arm across my shoulder and prods at the fire with the other. He hums a little, a low, oddly familiar tune. Maybe I’ve heard Cadence sing it before.
“You must have a lot of questions.” His voice is quiet, his gaze fixed on the crackling embers.
I follow suit, relaxing a bit now insects aren’t dive-bombing my head.
“I don’t know why your memories aren’t coming back properly. Or why you can’t hold onto them when Cadence and I try to share. And I don’t know why your magic disappeared. It could have something to do with, uh . . . Well. There are two of you. That’s kinda unmarked territory.”
Cadence snorts. I feel Ash’s shrug more than see it.
“Yeah, I get it,” he continues. “Huge mess all ’round. I know you didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t see much else we could do. Neither of us is in great condition to fight, and to be honest, are limits to what I can manage by myself, even in top form. A city full of monsters isn’t exactly a one-man job. Plus, I was expected home weeks ago.”
I shift in place, partly still sore from spending hours on the hard seat of his bike, mostly because I don’t know what to do with the idea that Ash couldn’t have taken on the Mara singlehanded. Could I have been that much stronger than him? Or simply that deluded?
“Duh,” says Cadence. “That’s not exactly news. But how did you get her out of the city in the first place?”
Cadence knew Ash couldn’t save us all along? That’s definitely not what she’d told me—
“Same way you got in? Don’t tell me you forgot that too.” Ash shakes his head. “Those tunnels, though—yikes. Between the bodies and whatever that was in the water, I wasn’t sure we’d make it.”
Wait, what?
He swipes his stick at the fire. Sparks bounce off the shield of his power. “To be honest, I cheated just a bit on the way in. But since you can’t dreamwalk right now, it was a real chore to get you out, especially unconscious.”
I twist to look back over my shoulder at him. He’s not much taller than me, and with his power extended as a barrier around us, he just looks human. Dark curls stick to his skin in the heat of the fire. The smudged hollows beneath his eyes betray exhaustion, his lashes seeming longer than ever without that silver coating. He blinks back at me.
“If there’s a way out, why doesn’t everyone just leave?” I ask.
“Don’t be stupid,” Cadence says. “Since when do people do the smart thing?”
“It’s not that easy,” Ash says over her. “We had records of a tunnel that leads out past the barrier, but it’s still partially flooded—and it very obviously wasn’t empty when the sea invaded. You have to dive and swim a good distance through the, uh, obstructions, and either hope the water monsters don’t notice you, or be able to fend them off. On top of that, the barrier’s weaker below ground, but it’s still there. Regular humans can’t just stroll past it. Even for me, it took a lot to push through. It’s a rough crossing.”
“But you got me across.”
If he could take me out of the city, even without my powers, couldn’t he take others? Ange? Lily, and Amy, and Sam? Even if lots of people wouldn’t cooperate, like Cadence said, we could save the ones who were willing . . .
“Not the worst idea, actually,” she says. “Could be worth exploring.”
“No one’s doing any exploring,” Ash says. “We’re heading home. The elders will know what to do. Anyway, our first priority has to be getting you back to normal.”
Normal.
“I’m going to bed.” I shove away from Ash’s arms and stand up.
I’ve seen what he thinks my normal should be. Playful. Strong. Laughing. Cadence.
That’s what he means. That’s what he wants.
“Duh,” Cadence says.
“Guys? What am I missing?” He rolls to one knee, leaning to get a look at my face.
“She’s just pouting,” Cadence snarks.
Unfair. Always so unfair. “Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am n—”
“Hey!” Ash grabs my arm, careful to avoid my hand, and tugs me back down. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, or your abilities, or what to do about that city, but I do know there are a lot of people back home who are going to be super excited to see you. Let’s just focus on getting you there. You can worry about the rest later.”
We sit in silence so long I droop with exhaustion. Cadence must be sulking and Ash probably fell asleep sitting up. Is that a thing people can do? I don’t want to get caught looking to check. Besides, it is nice and warm and peacefully insect-free over here by him.
The fire, I mean. It’s nice by the fire.
“I promise, you’ll like it there,” Ash says quietly.
Huh. Still awake.
“You don’t remember what you’re missing, but everyone loved you. I could barely keep Hatif—Liam, you’d remember him Cadence—from coming after you with me. You were so talented, so smart, so good at absolutely everything.” He’s so close I can feel his quiet laughter. “You were a brat, too. Always up to something. And I was right there with you. But no one could stay mad at you long.
“I cried the day they told me you were going on a mission with your parents. Not because I was scared for you—I wanted to go too. It wasn’t fair; the rest of us buzzing around within a day’s march of home on glorified camping trips, wasting time studying maps and planting trees and foraging while you got to fight real monsters.
“Your dad gave me my first set of blades and told me if I practiced every day, he’d take me. Next time.”
He lays a long knife sheathed in thick leather across my lap. The grip is pitted and worn, but when I slide the blade out a few inches its edges glitter with honed menace.
When he lays his hand over mine, it lights up in silver. “I practiced every day. For years.”
Cadence makes a soft sound. My eyes well up, not for the loss of the father I don’t remember, but for that small boy, waiting and longing for a day that would never come. He touches a finger to my cheek, the silver light of his power making the teardrop shimmer.
“This is a happy story,” he says. “I found you again. I just wish it could have been sooner.”