“Knock it off, both of you!” Julio manages to draw a little moisture from the air, but it’s not enough to quench the fire as their argument escalates. Noelle grabs Gabriel. He shoves an elbow into her ribs, shouting and swearing. Julio jumps between them as Aidan’s flame grows.
Jack storms into the clearing, and before anyone gets hurt, I tap a root. It erupts in a spray of dirt, grabbing Aidan by the wrist and choking his flame. It jerks him to his knees in a single fluid movement.
Every eye in the clearing finds me. Gabriel stops fighting.
Jack gives me a slight nod. I loosen my hold on the Autumn, and Jack offers him a hand, pulling him to his feet. “If you can’t figure out how to work together, you won’t survive what’s coming.”
“I didn’t come here to die for some Crispy,” Gabriel says, glaring at Aidan.
“Well, I didn’t come here just to save a damn Snowflake!”
“Why the hell did you come, then?” Jack snaps, silencing both of them. “To be free? To go home? If you’re only in this for yourselves, what’s the fucking point?”
“Easy for you to say.” Gabriel jerks free of Noelle to point at me. “You’re only willing to die for the Spring because you want to get in her pants!”
My face flames. I tighten my grip on the root, ready to take Gabriel down by the tongue. Jack grabs Gabriel by the collar with a look of disgust. “You’re wrong,” he says through clenched teeth. “I would die for all of them.”
The clearing falls silent. Jack lets Gabriel go. His fingers lightlygraze my arm, a single reassuring touch, as he leaves the clearing to find wood for our fire. Julio’s eyes trail Jack as he goes.
Marie claps her hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “You heard the man. Let’s try it again,” she orders the group, failing to hide the catch of emotion in her voice. “This time, I want to see you work together. Watch each other’s backs. Keep each other strong. We survive if we stay focused on what matters.”
48
Thin Ice
FLEUR
I miss Julio’s guitar, the way it filled the gaps and settled our nerves. I miss our voices, warm and discordant, our laughter crackling like sparks off a campfire. Tonight, there is no music. We eat in the same heavy silence that’s clung to our group since Woody died.
I stand watch over our camp as the sun sets, eyes peeled for headlights on the road. It’s the only route into or out of this place, according to the torn section of a map Marie studies next to me.
“They’ll come from the northeast,” she says, holding it up to catch the waning light. “The wind’s in their favor, but we’ve had more time to become familiar with the terrain. We should position Julio as close to the lake as possible. Jack’s strongest at the higher elevations. We’ll need you out front, tight to the trees. You’re our strongest asset here. This place is practically a shrine to you.” I can’t tell if she’s being acerbic or if she’s just being Marie.
“What do you mean?”
She gestures to the missing headers of the map. To the carefully torn edges that barely hint at where we are. “I don’t need the entire map to know why Jack picked this place. The elevation, the climate, those cool little smiling salamanders in the lake? We’re near Cuernavaca. The City of Eternal Spring.”
Somewhere warm.... Somewhere you’ll be safe.
I rise slowly to my feet, a little dizzy.
Cuernavaca.
One of a handful of places in this world where I could live, with or without anyone, off the grid. Forever. Alone.
I pick up Marie’s map and study it. The location of the lakes. The patterns of the roads. There’s nothing on this paper that either confirms or denies Marie’s assumption. Just the heartsick feeling that she’s right. That I should have seen this all along.
“Keep watch for me.” I drop the map and take off running through the trees, listening for the stroke of an ax.
I find Jack in a darkening grove of pine, high on the north face just above our camp. The wind carries my scent straight to him, but his rhythm doesn’t falter. “Did you tear that map to hide our destination from Chronos or to keep it from me?” I shout over the crack of the ax. His jaw hardens at my accusation, and he tosses another cut log onto an already mountainous pile. “Why this place? Why Cuernavaca?”
He swings his ax down hard, scattering kindling. “High ground. Good cover. Perfect temperature,” he says, setting another log upright on the stump. Frost shimmers on his shoulders, a cold sweat trickling down his arms as he drives the ax down. “You’ll have everything you need here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He tosses his ax to the ground without looking at me. “It means no matter what happens to me, you’ll be safe.”
“So you’re just assuming you’re going to die? Isn’t that a little defeatist? Where is this even coming from?”
