Whatever Daryn’s done, or has to do, or will do, I can’t be angry with her. I’ve had the easy job. Slaying demons. She has the tough one. Following orders, even when it means hurting people you care about. She’s much stronger than I am. But I know her. I know that wherever she is, she’s suffering.
Someone comes up, wanting to look at my hand. At the place where my hand used to be attached to the rest of me. But Marcus snarls and the guy practically falls on his face as he rushes to leave.
He’s such an asshole, Marcus. It makes Jode shake his head. It makes me wish Bastian were here to say something Bastian-ish to Marcus. Don’t throw stones at people who live in brick houses.
The three of us stand and talk as floodlights go up. As demon bodies are photographed, crated, and hauled away. We stand and watch the snow fall. Watch as it erases the evil that occurred here.
Suarez brings blankets. We throw them over our backs and search for things to say to each other, but no topic is safe. No topic helps us forget. But we try. We take turns making meaningless words, prolonging the moment. Stretching out now, because later is no good. Later will only be more of this—an accumulation of this feeling that none of us can escape.
We’re lost.
We have nowhere to go. Nothing to do without Daryn’s guidance.
Riot nudges me in the back. I turn and look at him. He’s been making my neck sweat with his hot breath. Melting snow into puddles at my feet. I look into his big amber eyes and wish he could fix this for me, too.
We stand around in our blankets and watch the snow, but Sebastian and Shadow never join us, and neither does Daryn.
Still, we stand.
None of us calls what we did a victory.
CHAPTER 60
“We’ll be right back,” Anna says to me.
I look from her to Jode, whose arm is over her shoulder.
Jode. And my sister.
I still can’t wrap my head around it.
“Where are you going?” I ask her.
Anna rolls her eyes. “To get something to drink, Gideon. Relax. We’re not running away together.”
Jode just laughs at me. They round Freedom Hall, heading to a tent set up with refreshments and food.
My mom slips her arm through mine. “How are you doing with this?”
“Well,” I say. “On the one hand, I want to kick his ass. On the other hand—oh, wait. I only have one hand, so. I want to kick his ass.”
My mom shakes her head at me. She hates it when I pull that one—about my hand. But I use it all the time. It’s amazing how many expressions are based around hands. I have to hand it to you. In good hands. Out of hand. I notice them all now. I’m keeping a mental list so one day I can make Bas laugh. Someday it’ll happen.
“I meant how are you doing with this,” Mom says. Her eyes move to the group of soldiers standing a little way off.
The ceremony celebrating the newest graduates of RASP just concluded. Thirty-nine soldiers have donned the tan berets of the 75th Ranger Regiment for the first time. Private Marcus Walker finished at the top of the class.
Marcus looks about fifteen pounds lighter than he did a few months ago when he enlisted. He was always shredded, but now he’s ridiculous. I’m going to have to step up my workouts to keep us even.
“I’m good,” I answer. “My baby’s all grown up.”
She smiles and squeezes my arm. “It’s incredible that he did this, Gideon.”
In the beat of silence that follows I hear the words she doesn’t say: for you.
I didn’t ask Marcus to enlist and become a Ranger. He and I never actually talked about why he did this, but it’s obvious. To me. To Jode … to everyone.
With a prosthetic left hand, finishing the course wasn’t an option for me. Supposedly I’ll be getting a mechanical hand soon, one that’s almost as agile and responsive as a real hand. When they find out you’re War, the government goes out of their way to keep you happy. But RASP and I weren’t meant to be. Plenty of guys who are Rangers become amputees. But amputees don’t become Rangers.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of me wants to be standing where Marcus is. Surrounded by other guys who went through the program. Who persevered together, and formed a bond because of it. But I have done that. It’s just that my own graduating class is much smaller.
Five of us were there at the beginning.
Now we’re only three.
I can’t dwell on that right now, though. Not today. Maybe I’m not directly honoring my dad’s memory, but it’s better this way. Marcus isn’t just doing this for my dad and me. He’s doing this for himself too. It’s a pretty awesome trifecta.
“He’s done good,” I say.
Mom nods and squeezes my arm. “You all have.”
As I watch, Marcus shakes Colonel Nellis’s hand. Then they both look to me and snap a salute, which I return.