NOON
These humans were such fun. Completely predictable, until the moment when they acted inexplicably foolish, delightfully exposing their weaknesses and fears and vulnerabilities for the island to see.
The island would use each one toward its own purpose.
Acquiring the male, Thad, had been a delightful surprise, his bitterness extraordinarily refined, his fear palpable. He’d brushed the gate with his elbow, a careless mistake, and the island had been unable to resist. It had wanted the female, Charley, a female stolen from the island by her male. For a moment, the island had been abruptly furious. It had been tricked, denied Charley by her mate for a second time; it did not want them both: their connection was too strong, their bond too great. Individually they would be easier to break.
So the island had closed the gate. The biggest regret was the loss of the male, Michael; his strength had tempted the island, so much that the island had called him, a call made easier by the blood trail left by the male, Sy. Both Michael and Zane had worn Sy’s blood like a marker, and it had used that marker to pull them back. The unpredictability of the humans frustrated the island immensely, and yet, this same unpredictability brought the island such pleasure when it turned in the island’s favor.
Soon it would toy with the ones freshly called. It would use their weaknesses, prey on their fears.
But first, it would observe the ones denied. Noon cost the island, yet noon also cost those left behind. The pain of noon always proved entertaining, on both sides of the seam, a fact that had not escaped the island’s notice.
Like now.
* * *
Charley stared at the black rock platform. It was empty, not counting an unhappy goat and a mewing snowy kitten. The white flowers littered around the platform mocked her. They should be wilted, she thought, staring at a handful of flowers where the gate had just been. It was so wrong that the flowers looked fresh, and alive. The blossoms were already dead; they just didn’t realize it yet.
Reality rushed in like cold wind.
The gate was gone. Thad was gone.
And she was still here, denied the chance to help or choose for herself.
“What just happened?” Charley said, turning slowly to the boy beside her, whose name she couldn’t remember. His eyes were locked on the place the gate had vanished. “Tell me that did not just happen. Please tell me this is a nightmare and I’ll wake up any minute.”
“It is a nightmare,” he agreed, finally turning to her, “but a living one.” His eyes were sympathetic. “Thad—he was your boyfriend, yes?”
Boyfriend, Charley thought. A weak word for how she felt about Thad. Soul mate, partner. A gift from Nil, now taken by Nil.
Abruptly she was blindingly furious.
“Yes,” she said, her voice shockingly cold. “And I’m going to get him back.”
Michael nodded. “This gate. It will reopen in three months. They will appear here”—he gestured around the rock—“in three months.”
Three months, Charley thought.
Thad. She thought his name with all her might. I love you. I believe in you. Be smart, be safe, be strong—and I’ll see you in three months. She couldn’t bear to think of anything else. She also had the thought that if Skye could hear Nil here, maybe Thad could hear her there. It gave her small comfort. Stranger things had happened.
Charley lifted her chin. “Then let’s get ready. But in the meantime, we need a way off this island. Our rowboat sank.”
Michael nodded. “I have a canoe. Two, actually, because Zane had one too.”
Figures, she thought. I guess we got the canoes after all.
“Time to go,” she said, picking up the tiny kitten, her tone resolute. “We’ve got three months.”
Tick tock.
Later she’d wonder if that thought was hers. But for now, it didn’t matter.
The clock was definitely ticking.
* * *
Lana found the cave easily.
Her grandmother’s directions had been clear. Circle the mountain, trace the cliff. Look for the gap in the black rocks, the trailhead of a path. On the ledge, look for the giant ear. She’d obeyed without hesitation, and now she was here: The cave mouth yawned a few meters away.
She moved toward the entrance, wasting no time. Here, time was not to be wasted; it was to be treasured. Used. Explored.
To explore within.
To invite the island in, as her grandmother had advised. And for Lana, it was all to begin at the Listening Cave, as it had begun for her grandmother, the one Lana herself was named for. Her grandmother, Alana, was one of the last seers to return from the island. Too many island women had not found the Sight in recent decades, or if they had, they had not returned. Lana’s own aunt, Lina, had not returned, her fate a family mystery and secret wrapped in one.
Lana would be different. She knew it. She felt it.
Still, at the cave’s entrance, she paused. She studied the mouth of the cave with a critical eye. Lana was loath to admit it to herself, but she was slightly unsettled by the ease with which she’d found it, yet at the same time, her success stoked her already glowing confidence. She could see how the cave would be easily overlooked, easily missed. An overhang shaded the mouth, rough and slanted. The actual opening faced east, opening toward the mountain, gaping as if to welcome lava in one big swallow. But no lava flowed this far; the lava that had carved this cave was long gone. Far to the north, lava still dropped into the sea with a silent hiss, but the molten river was too far away to be heard or seen; the clouds of steam in the distance were the only hint of heat at all.
There was no danger here, only safety.
Or so her aunt had promised.
Remembering Paulo’s warning, Lana stepped into the cave with caution. As expected, the mouth opened to a surprisingly generous room on the left. Its ceiling sloped away, sloped in, a pocket crafted from lava or water or some other force of nature in the island’s history. The small cavern matched her grandmother’s description perfectly, except that the cavern wasn’t bare.
Someone had been here recently.
A pile of coconuts and pineapple sat in a corner, beside a gourd and small coconut shell cup. Two stacks of cloth were folded neatly next to the fruit. A bag leaned against one stack. Nothing else was here, and no one besides Lana herself.
She was alone, as she had expected to be.
Relaxing, Lana moved around the cave, getting acquainted with her new home. She picked up the gourd, pleased to find it full, and sniffed. No smell. She poured a bit into the cup, and dipped her finger in for a taste.
Water, she thought, pleased.
She drank it all, then set down the cup and gourd as she inspected the rest. The stacks of cloth were bedding, plus a bandana and two pairs of shorts. The bag contained knives. Mostly wood, but one was metal, an odd surprise.
Paulo had obviously taken pains to prepare this place for her. Considerate, but unnecessary, although the stash of knives could prove useful. Picking up the metal knife, she studied the blade with the same care she’d used to inspect the water gourd. Primitive, raw, and unabashedly metal, the knife seemed out of place. Rust coated the edges, adding to its aged look.
With a start, Lana realized the rust wasn’t rust at all; it was dried blood.
“Put it down,” a sharp voice behind her demanded.
Lana jerked her head up to find a girl pointing a matching metal blade at her heart. Luminous dark eyes set in a thin face regarded her coldly. A thick brown braid fell across the girl’s shoulder. She matched Lana in dress and stance, only the girl radiated hostility.
“Now,” the girl snapped. She flicked the knife once for emphasis.
Lana didn’t move.
Still gripping the knife, she watched the girl carefully, surprise turning to outrage in her belly. This was her journey, her cave. Her time. Who was this girl to demand anything of her?
“Why?” Lana’s voice stayed calm.
“Because I told you to.” The girl’s eyes remained fixed on Lana, like her knife.
Following some silent cue, two boys stepped from the shadowed entrance to flank the girl like lieutenants. Both were fit, with taut stomachs and lean muscles, but the similarities ended with their abs. One had dark hair, straight and sleek, capping light eyes and light skin that had recently turned tan. He wore a cocky smile like a prized accessory. The other boy had dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes, and no expression at all. He reminded Lana of a living shadow. He was, by far, the most alarming of the three.
“I said put it down,” the girl repeated. Her icy tone warred with her lilting Spanish accent.
“I don’t always do as I’m told,” Lana said coolly.
A glimmer of respect flashed through the girl’s eyes. “Neither do I,” she said. She lowered her blade slightly.
Lana followed suit.
Abruptly the girl dropped her knife to her waist.
“Carmen,” the girl said, still holding the knife. She tipped her head slightly toward the boy who was one step from blending into the shadows. “This is James,” she said. “And this is Ace.” Now Carmen pointed to the boy with the slick hair as his insolent grin broadened.
“Hi,” Ace said. He winked.
Lana would’ve rolled her eyes or snorted but she didn’t dare look away from the girl, or from James. Unlike Ace, James didn’t acknowledge her. He had a predatory look about him that was deeply unnerving. No, not predatory. Piercing, as if he saw right through her.
“Lana,” she said, fighting the urge to step back. She’d just realized that her back brushed the wall as it was; she was outnumbered, and trapped. In her own cave.
Her fury flared anew.
“So how long have you been staying here?” Lana bit back the words in my cave.
Carmen’s eyes flicked to the side wall, where slashes marked the rock like graffiti.
“In this cave? Eighteen days,” Carmen answered. “A few more on the island.” She cocked her head, her eyes on Lana’s. “And you?”
Tradition tied her tongue. Rives and Skye had warned her that the island had changed; Maaka too. He’d told her of the wild gates, warned her that she would not be alone. But she’d never anticipated that her own cave would feel so crowded, that she’d be trapped by bodies and weapons and the weight of a history she was forbidden to share. And the fact that it was all crashing in on her on her very first day was almost more than Lana could bear.
“I never asked for this,” Lana murmured, her hand lowering another fraction.
“None of us did.” Carmen’s voice had lost its bite; something else had taken its place.
Pity? Lana wondered, her spine stiffening. It was unacceptable. No one need feel sorry for her, and they would not trap her either. Part of Lana knew she should tell Carmen and Ace and the mysterious James about the yearly time constraints and about the gates—all of them, even hers—but part of her knew that sharing her knowledge would bring her closer to them; they would become confidantes, and that cut directly against the very nature of this journey for her.
Let Maaka and Paulo get friendly with the haoles, she thought. Not me.
She walked up to Carmen, knife cradled in her hand. “You may be staying here,” Lana said coldly, “but that does not make this cave yours. And this”—Lana raised the knife—“is mine. The rest of the island belongs to no one.” With a calculating step, she moved toward Ace, away from Carmen and James. As she anticipated that he would, Ace slid to one side and Lana strode through the gap. She moved quickly, not knowing where she was going, her carefully orchestrated opening-day plan torn to bits within the first hour of landing.
“Let her go.” Carmen’s voice drifted behind her.
Lana didn’t look back. At least she had the satisfaction of winning that hand. But she didn’t doubt that she hadn’t won the war. She knew without asking that she’d lost her cave, and that rankled her. She was homeless and aimless, not unlike how the haoles must have felt when they first arrived, a similarity that did not sit well. And a female haole with island knives and two bodyguards at her beck and call infuriated Lana on another level entirely.
No, this island was not a peaceful place to be.
Lana sighed. Know-it-all Rives was right, not that she would give him the satisfaction of telling him. And as for Paulo, who’d said she shouldn’t be alone, the island no longer seemed like a place where she could be alone. Had he known that too?
Making her way around the ledge, she blinked. People were everywhere. In her cave, on her platform, behind her, in the air in front of her. She felt eyes everywhere, watching.
She sighed again. Seeking solitude, she had no idea where to turn to escape—from the people, not the island. But she was determined to try.
* * *
Carmen let Lana go.
She hated giving up the knife, but she knew that sometimes people must be allowed to feel as if they’d won until it was time to make the winning move, and Carmen wasn’t done. After Lana disappeared, Carmen turned to James.
“She knows something,” Carmen said slowly. “Something she’s not telling us. Something she chose not to tell us.”
“Like what?” Ace said. He faced the cave’s exit with curiosity.
Idiot, she thought. She still couldn’t accept that Ace was as dim as he seemed, but he’d yet to prove otherwise.
“I don’t know,” she said irritably. “But if it’s important enough to hide, then it’s important enough for us to find out.” Her eyes were back on James. “I want to know who she meets up with, what she says. Where she goes. I want her followed.” She nodded at James, who left without a word. He barely spoke, but in Carmen’s mind, he was miles ahead of Ace in the brains and stealth departments. She’d met James when she was fleeing a leopard that he was tracking, and after a shared dinner of fruit and fish, they’d made a pact to look out for each other. Still, Carmen didn’t entirely trust James or Ace, and they shouldn’t trust her either.
In the end, she trusted only herself. Her instincts told her that Lana was hiding secrets. Secrets meant information, and Carmen excelled at encouraging people to share information they shouldn’t. The key was finding the right angle, the right in, a weak spot.
Lana’s weakness would be Carmen’s gain.
It was just a matter of time.