Susan Krinard - Night Quest

“Why do you think I can tell you?” she asked.

“You were exiled from Oceanus, weren’t you?”

“How do you know?”

“Because we’ve learned that most exiles stick pretty close to their home territory. There are only a few small Opiri outposts between Oceanus and the northern California Citadel, Erebus. And I know you didn’t come from Erebus.”

“What of the rogues who stole your son? Were they not from Erebus, nearer to your colony?”

“As near as I can tell, they were from a Citadel some distance away. They were acting out of character. It’s all a mystery.” He withdrew his hand and clenched his fist on his thigh. “From what the Freeblood—Pericles—told us, the rogues are taking Timon across the river into old Washington. God knows why. But if he was right, they’ll probably have to cross the Columbia River near Portland, where one bridge is still supposed to be intact. They’ll follow the path of least resistance, the I-5 corridor.”

“But that will also be a more exposed route,” Artemis said. “Oceanus itself may be situated in the foothills of the Coast Range, but its territory reaches across the valley to the western slope of the Cascades. The rogues will be summarily executed if they are caught.” She tapped the map with her fingertip. “They might have gone farther into the Cascade foothills to avoid any chance of meeting a patrol.”

“And that’s much rougher terrain,” Garret said. “If we can find a more direct route across the territory, we may catch up with them, or even get to the Columbia before them.”

“Or we may be captured,” she said. “I am of no use to them, so they will kill me quickly. But they will either take you as a serf or, if they think you are dangerous enough, execute you as an example to other humans.”

“No surprises there,” Garret said, carefully folding the map. “But I don’t expect you to take unnecessary risks on my behalf.”

“You always knew I would be taking such risks.”

“Yes,” he said, meeting her gaze. “But I’m prepared to release you from our pact.”

“Because we quarreled?”

“I was wrong to interfere between you and the Freeblood. And I have no excuse for saying what I did about your motives for helping your fellow Freebloods. But my son must come first.”

“Then nothing has changed,” Artemis said, feeling another jolt of his worry and pain. “The most logical route to Portland is also the shortest, but there is still no guarantee that the rogues have not chosen the same route.”

“Agreed.”

“So we continue to parallel Interstate 5 for the time being.”

She shrugged into her pack and returned to the path, leaving the young Freeblood to the elements and the scavengers that would return him to the earth.

* * *

Three days’ cautious travel brought them to Oceanus’s southern boundary. They crossed the Willamette River at Albany and continued north, roughly paralleling Interstate 5, to the rural city of Salem—which, like most other pre-War human cities, was a mishmash of half-fallen buildings and bare foundations, overgrown parking lots, cracked streets and patches of woodland that filled every available space in between. The river and a long line of hills stood between them and the western half of the valley and the Coast Range.

Patrols of Opiri and Daysiders from Oceanus would have to cross those hills to find them, Garret thought, and the presence of such a patrol on their side of the Willamette would be a matter of very bad luck.

At the moment, he and Artemis were observing from the edge of what had been a wide street bordered by parking lots and the remains of large, warehouse-style buildings. The woods ended here, replaced by scattered, smaller trees and shrubs, and resumed a thousand feet to the northeast.

Artemis rose from a crouch, shaking her head. “Nothing new,” she said.

Garret concealed his frustration. Artemis had been vigilant; as they’d traveled, varying the hours between night and day, she had found numerous indications that Freeblood packs had passed this way. The “when” was more difficult to pin down, and there had been no clear signs of the presence of a human child.

He’s still alive, Garret told himself. He’s a fighter. And they must have a reason for taking him so far.

“Garret.” Artemis laid a gloved hand on his shoulder, her dark eyes catching reflected light under the shelter of her hood. It was the first time they’d had any physical contact since they’d left Pericles, and suddenly he was immersed in the warmth of her body and the indescribable scent of her skin drifting out from beneath her heavy cloak. His heart began to race as it had when she had taken his blood, triggering the same startling current of desire and longing he had felt before and had struggled to ignore ever since.

Her fingers began to shake, and she withdrew her hand. “It’s still early,” she said. “We can be halfway across the territory before night falls.”

“How long since you’ve taken blood?” he asked, breathing deeply to slow his heartbeat and suppress his arousal before it became too obvious. “You haven’t hunted for yourself since you took mine, have you?”

She shook her head in a distracted way that worried him. He’d expected her to hunt at least once during the times they’d stopped to rest, but he’d begun to suspect that she’d neglected herself because of his eagerness to keep moving.

“Go now,” he said, “I can wait as long as it takes.”

“Later,” Artemis said. With an abrupt, almost clumsy motion, she hitched up her pack and headed north toward the next patch of forest. Garret jogged to catch up, and then strode ahead of her. He could see far better in daylight than she could, and though the chances of ambush seemed small, he wasn’t prepared to risk her walking into one. The Vampire Slayer, though still hidden in his pack, was close enough at hand that he could pull the segments out, assemble them and fire in less than a minute.

Sooner or later Artemis would find out about the weapon. He just hoped it wasn’t because he had to kill a Nightsider right in front of her eyes.

They cleared the ruins of Salem by midday and began to travel in a more northeasterly direction, moving well away from the river and mountains to the west. Garret kept a constant eye on Artemis, watching for any sign of weakness that would indicate an urgent need for blood. But she continued to behave as if everything were normal, and he knew that forcing the issue wouldn’t do anything to gain her cooperation.

At last they crossed the old six-lane freeway, passing through former pastures, farmland and orchards that had given way to mixed conifer and deciduous forest. Several times Artemis detected the scent or tracks of Opiri moving in groups, but again there was no indication that they carried a human prisoner. They met no patrols from Oceanus. It seemed to be going almost too smoothly until, soon after sunset, Artemis began to weave and stumble again.

Garret was looking for shelter where she could safely rest when she jumped the thicket of wild roses that stood between them and barreled into him, dragging him to the ground. Her hood barely stayed over her head.

“Opiri!” She flung her body across his as if to prevent him from rising.

His pack—and the VS—were trapped beneath him. He lay still as her breath puffed against his cheek, the gentle curves of her body seeming to fit against his like a missing piece of a puzzle falling into place.

“How close?” he asked.

Artemis turned her head, her lips inches from his. “Close,” she said. “It is fortunate that the wind is with us.”

“Patrol? Or rogues?” he asked.

“I believe they are Freebloods. I think there is a human with them, but—”