Her thoughts tell me she thinks he will say yes…ifhe wakes up. At that, her emotions become heavy with sadness again.
I wish I couldn’t read her mind. I would even welcome the way my power was muted while I was in the maze.
Now that my shock is wearing off, all of the input from the outside world is pushing at me again. All of the hatred, the evil, the sadness, the love, the needs, the wants…
The never-ending mess of it all. The darkness of this life that’s now mine.
I rise into the air and dart through the trees, acutely aware once again that there is no peace for me.
35. PEYTON PRICE
The days pass, and the season changes.
When I first returned to the secluded cabin on Mount Greylock, I found my sisters absent.
My heart had leaped into my throat, my newfound ability to feel fear getting the best of me while I searched the cabin, only to confirm that it was empty.
I’d hurried outside to find them running around the side of the building, seeming to appear from nowhere, their thoughts flooding into my mind.
Fury!
You’re back.
You’re safe.
Then they were hugging me, all three of them squeezing the breath out of me until my fright faded, and they led me around to the back of the cabin to show me what was there.
A realm so well hidden from the eye that I struggled to discern it until they led me right into it, revealing another cozy cabin just like the one on the outside. This one is surrounded by wildflowers, has blue curtains at the windows, and the days are always warm with gentle beams of sunlight.
“How?” I asked, unable to ignore that I’d seen touches of this place in Striker’s final memories.
Slade Baines created it for us while you were gone, my sisters replied.
Well, actually,they added,it was because of Striker Draven. Apparently, before you went into the maze, he asked Slade to create a realm for us. So we could have peace.
I guess Striker heard my conversation with Archer Ryan that there isn’t any peace in the city for my sisters.
I stayed within that realm for a single night before I came back out, and after that, I rarely ventured back in.
I just couldn’t sleep there, and at first, I thought it was because it was too quiet. Too much like the stillness of Striker’s death.
Then I wondered if it was because, even though it has attributes he imagined I might like, it doesn’t smell like him.
Out here, in the forest around the old cabin, there are cedars, and their perfume fills my chest with the scent of summer, reminding me of the warmth of cedarwood and calming balsam. Striker’s scent.
Out here, I have a purpose. A purpose that enables me to keep my mind busy.
I have vengeance to claim on behalf of those who can’t claim it for themselves.
For a month, I throw myself fully into that task, heading out every night, often reaching a target before the assassins do. Sometimes, they get there first, and when that happens, I accept it, even if I consider the target evaded the punishment they deserve.
I’m not surprised when Rebella reaches out to me through the hive mind.
She tells me she has recovered and she’s safe, but that navigating the world Vanguard lives in is difficult.
I warn her that I consider him a target, and she acknowledges my feelings with a simple,As you should. And then, with a small laugh, she continues,If I didn’t love him, I’d try to take him out, too.
Now, as another day approaches its sunset, I step out onto the cabin’s porch, trying to tame my increasing restlessness, attempting to focus on the cup of herbal tea I’m hugging in my hands.
