The cargo plane was cold, uncomfortable, and loud. A lot like a military plane, in other words. The engines roared like a dozen jackhammers going off at the same time, exhausting even with the earplugs we’d bought. Marcus popped his in and zoned out ten minutes after wheels-up.
I gave Sebastian dog duties. The shepherd, Lia, had been so scared of flying she could barely walk when I got her out of her cage. I’d had to carry her over to our area. I put Bas in charge of petting her and making sure she was okay. It was what I wanted to do but he was still amped from the rage shot I’d given him. I thought maybe soothing Lia would soothe him, and I was right. They were curled up together in no time, completely sacked out.
I spent a little while locating the other radio because it still might come in handy. I found it in one of the shipping containers as we flew over Scottsdale, Arizona. It was starting to get late by then, but I couldn’t sleep. I noticed that Daryn, who was on the other side of the center aisle past Marcus, couldn’t either. She had her penlight out and she was writing in her notebook. I slid the radio across for her to keep. She looked over at me, dropped the radio into her backpack, and went back to her journal.
I sat back and thought about what she’d told us that afternoon at the diner. We were fighting demons. I’d been so focused on keeping us safe and on getting us on this plane, I hadn’t had a chance to think about it yet. Now all I had was time.
As a soldier in the US Army, I was prepared to do whatever was asked of me because I believed, down to my soul, that the uniform I’d wear as a Ranger represented the defense of liberty and freedom, and the country I love. I’d chosen to serve because I could fight and because until wars stopped happening, people like me were needed. I had zero problem doing whatever it took to keep harm from coming to innocent people. Zero problem. Period, exclamation point, and freakin’ hooah.
I hadn’t had that kind of clarity since I’d become War, though. I hadn’t known what I was fighting for—or really, against. But sitting in that dark cargo plane, it started coming together for me. My enemies were demons, but it was still my duty to protect the innocent. Realizing that was a huge relief.
After chewing on that for a while, I still wasn’t tired. I thought about how Bastian could call up his scales and his horse so easily. I needed that kind of proficiency with my tools. For a while I tried to summon my sword by focusing on the cuff and thinking, Here. Appear. Now. Then I tried praying, which I hadn’t done in a really long time. That didn’t work but I felt better afterward, like I’d been missing out. Then I tried meditating, which I’d never done and ended up sucking at. Nothing worked. The sword eluded me, so.
I moved on.
At the airport, I’d asked Daryn to buy me a travel guide of Italy. I pulled that and my penlight from my pack and spent a couple hours reading it, paying extra attention to the maps of Rome and to the major transportation outlets—train stations, bus stations, waterways, et cetera. I’d always done okay in school, but my mind worked much better for missions. When details mattered, I was capable of storing away a ton of material. I sucked that guide down. By the time we were over Arkansas, I had a solid map of Rome in my head and some ideas for how to handle getting us safely off the cargo plane onto Italian ground.
With my eyes burning from the lateness and the reading, I put the book away. Aiming the penlight at my companions, I ascertained that Marcus and Sebastian were still asleep. Marcus was twitching like mad, having the nightmare of his life, which pleased me greatly. A few feet past him, Daryn was only pretending to sleep. This I deduced because when I put the light on her face, she flipped me off.
I sat back, smiling at the darkness for a minute. Then I grabbed my radio, and brought it close to my lips before I could talk myself out of it.
“Special Agent Daryn Martin. Come in please, Ms. Martin. This is War. Over.”
Over the drone of the engines, I couldn’t hear my message register on her radio, but she did. I saw her digging around in her bag. A few seconds later, her voice came through my radio.
“Yes, Gideon?”
I pressed the talk button. “You will?”
“I will what?”
“I just asked you to come over here and you said yes.”
“You didn’t ask that.”
“But you answered anyway. Come here.”
“No.”
“You’re messing up the balance of the plane. We’re going to fly in circles unless you come here.”
“Your ego’s weighing that side down just fine.”
I laughed. “Is that another no?”
“Affirmative.”
“What did you write about me in your notebook?”
Now she laughed but not into the radio. I heard it far away, under the sound of the engines.
“Actually, I was writing about you. You were really great tonight. Thanks for getting us here. I knew you would, but … thanks.”
I stared at my radio. Had she written about what I’d done or about me? There was a pretty big difference. But it was still awesome. It’d been a long time since praise had hit me that hard. Weird, because she was basically still a stranger. I’d been with her for days and I still knew almost nothing about her. That gave me an idea.
I pressed the talk button. “Daryn. Tell me three things about yourself. Think of it as my reward for a job well done. Just three. They can be anything.”
There was a long stretch of nothing but engine drone. I kept waiting for her to tell me no. Bastian and Marcus were still sound asleep.
“Okay,” she said, finally. “Three things. First one … I have a sister. Her name is Josie. Josephine. She’s four years older than me and she’s a science nerd. Ask her anything about the planets, or about the weather, or the periodic table or any random sciency thing, and she knows the answer. She’s so smart. She knew from the time she was little that she wanted to be a doctor. I bet she’ll be starting medical school soon. She wanted to go to Purdue. I bet that’s where she’s going. Josie—she does the things she says she’s going to do. She’s amazing like that and … and I miss her.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.
“Two hundred and eighty-one days ago. And that should count as the second thing since I just answered another quest—”
I hit the talk button. “That was a subset of the first thing and don’t joke around about this. I busted my ass for these so no cutting corners.”
“You get mad so easily,” she said, laughing.
“You drive me to it. That’s why.”
“So, it’s not because you have a temper?”
“Don’t change the subject. Thing number two, go.”
“Okay. Thing number two. Well, let’s see … I spent three months in a mental institution last year—how’s that? It was right when I first started blacking out and waking up knowing things. Before I really understood. I thought I was going crazy. Literally, I thought so because my mom suffers from depression and anxiety, and it’s bad sometimes. Really hard on her. On all of us. My whole family. So when I started passing out, the doctors thought it was mental illness again, only manifesting in a different way. And I guess I did too at first. My psychiatric team—I had a team—strongly suggested committing me. My parents agreed and I didn’t disagree, so I ended up at this private hospital in Maine.
“I actually had to break out of there or I’d probably still be there. You’d have been proud of me. It was totally Escape from Alcatraz. I had to dig a hole and crawl under a fence. I gouged my back doing that. It hurt so much. It gave me a big scar that I can only see when I look in a mirror—three lines running down my back like a tiger almost caught me. It was pretty gross when it was new. But I did it. I got out and I haven’t been anywhere near there or my home since.”
My pulse had picked up, hearing all that. I wanted to shoot into the past and help her bust out of that place in Maine. And I wanted to know more about her. A lot more. “Why haven’t you gone home?”
“Because nothing is different. This is my life. This never ends for me. I always have to leave. I always have to go where I’m needed. And it would just be too hard to see my family, then have to say good-bye. It’d be too hard for them. I do what I can to make it easier. A few months ago I sent them a postcard from Croatia, telling them I was traveling around the world finding myself and not to worry. I hope it helped. It’s better than if they knew the truth.”
I could relate to that. I’d left Anna and my mom without an explanation or good-bye.
“Are you turned off yet?” Daryn asked. “Are you picturing me in a straitjacket?”
“Was that your plan? Nice try, Martin. But it backfired. I like you even more now.”
That last part wasn’t supposed to come out but there it was. And there it stayed, second after second. I had no idea what she thought of it. None. My confidence was dying a thousand deaths.
Then she said, “Don’t you want to hear thing number three?”
I pressed the talk button. “Sure do. Lay it on me.” I was ready for things three through a hundred.
“This one’s a little different. It’s something I’m just realizing, kind of a revelation, and it’s that … it’s that your eyes are my favorite.” Her voice had gone all gentle and soft, so I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right until she kept going. “They’re amazing. So blue and direct sometimes. Other times, when you’re not being sarcastic or contrary, when you’re listening or when you’re just driving, there’s such humor in them. Such humor and kindness. Then there are the times I catch you watching me, and what I see in them makes me forget everything. What I am, and what I do, and … I’m just a girl again. A girl who gets a million butterflies in her stomach over a boy with the prettiest blue eyes. It feels so normal. So normal and so good.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know how to speak anymore. My heart was going ballistic in my chest. Finally I got it together enough to respond. “So what you’re telling me is that I make you feel average?”
She laughed. “Yes. You make me feel perfectly ordinary. It’s the best.”
“Daryn … Dare. Just come over here.” I didn’t say “please,” but it was all over my voice. I wanted her with me. I was losing my mind, I wanted that so badly.
But I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Every second that passed felt like she was putting mile after mile between us again. If this was her life—postcards from Croatia?—then I was beginning to understand the distance she needed. Not easy to get attached to people when you were always leaving. Coming from a military family, I knew about that.
“We should get some rest,” she said. “Special Agent Daryn Martin, signing off. Good night, Gideon.”
“Night, boss.”
I shut off my radio. But I didn’t fall sleep for a long while after.