Nil on Fire (17 page)

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.

 

CHAPTER

28

SKYE

94 DAYS UNTIL THE AUTUMNAL EQUINOX, EARLY AFTERNOON

I no longer heard Rives's dead ex-girlfriend in my head. It was almost worth being back on Nil.

Almost.

I'm back on Nil.

How do these things keep happening?
It seemed as if my entire life revolved around Nil. I'd grown up with Nil as a family shadow, then I'd experienced Nil on paper, seeing it through my uncle's eyes, before experiencing the island firsthand through my own. I'd escaped, and then, lucky me, it was my turn to be haunted by Nil in the real world—and now I was back.

But as the curved steps left the platform behind, it became frighteningly clear that this Nil was not the same Nil I had left. We'd definitely left our mark.

Up ahead, black rock gave way to charred black ground. Green shoots were popping up like hope, but fire had wreaked havoc on a wide section of the once-vibrant swath of grasses. The lush trees at the far end were reduced to limbless black stalks; they lined the perimeter in eerie spikes, rising from the ground like brittle bones. No animals were in sight. It was as if someone had taken a vibrant landscape and cursed it with decay.

The field reeked of death.

“Skye?” Rives's hand slid into mine, warm and alive.

I'd stopped walking. I turned to find his eyes on me. Pure green, bright enough to hold the gray at bay.

“You still with me?” he asked, his voice steady. “In the now?”

I was so grateful he knew. That he didn't ask me if I was okay, because the answer was a firm
Hells, no
.

Dex died there. I am not okay.
This
is not okay.

“I'm not walking though the meadow,” I said. “Or even close to it.”

“Good call,” Thad agreed. Beside me, his eyes swept the burned land, lingering on the far edge and sticking.

I followed Thad's gaze. A glint of gold defied the washed-out meadow. A second flash of light followed the first, popping into sight like a spark. The light moved, warm and alive—and furred. I squinted. At the far edge, two lionesses paced, their eyes fixed on us.

Abruptly, every cell in my body urged me to run; even the island breeze pushed me to
go
. To leave the meadow and devastation behind—right this very second.

I spun toward Rives, shocked to find him still staring at me. “We need to go.
Now.
”

Rives didn't move. A third lion raised his head, massive and way too alert.

“Rives!” I snapped my fingers in front of his face and he blinked. “Lions. Far end of the meadow.”

He jerked his head to look, his face closing up as he saw the predators too.

Paulo and Zane were yards ahead now, still on the black mountain. Below us, the rock with the Bull's-eye carving winked in the sun.
I see you
, it seemed to say. Everything had eyes now; we were under a microscope, watched from all angles. The sun above, the sun on the platform, the carvings on the rock … the golden-furred beasts too close for comfort with hungry eyes and possibly empty bellies.

I pulled Rives's hand, using thoughts and feelings and touches to say what words couldn't; syllables tripped on my tongue, tangled up in fear and lions and
Nil
.

Thad followed quickly, moving as silently as me. We trekked in smooth sync across the rocks until we caught up with Paulo and Zane.

“Paulo,” Rives growled, “did you see that? Lions at the meadow's far end?”

“I did.” Without looking back, Paulo strode quickly, winding across the edge of the black rock, Zane by his side. “Stay above the grass,” he added calmly, his pace brisk, one level shy of outright jogging. “Follow me.”

He didn't need to ask us twice.

We stayed on the mountain, moving up, moving away, stumbling across the pitted black rock without pause until the meadow fell from sight, until lava greeted us. It crept like sludge, thick and black and laced with blood-red cracks, the steaming flow forcing us to change course and head down. Around us, the heat choked the air. Steam hissed as it fought for freedom, an eerie noise punctuating an already eerie moment.

Rives glanced behind us, again, his eyes roving, his shoulders tight. I didn't have to hear his thoughts to know what he was thinking. If the lions followed, we'd be trapped, penned by lava and a steep grade at our backs.

The five of us descended as swiftly as we could toward Mount Nil's base. No one spoke. Everyone screened the silence for sounds of pursuit.

To our left, the cliff narrowed. Lava dripped off the edge into the water below, sending massive cotton balls of steam into the air. Time passed, thick with anticipation, and then miraculously we reached the base without incident. I took a deep breath, my thigh muscles quivering from the descent, grateful to no longer have to fight the pull of gravity and the steep slope. Here the rock was just rock, solid and generally flat. Now that we'd left the slope behind, our pace quickened.