The Offering
Page 35

Brook wasn’t as lucky. She didn’t find anything she could grip fast enough. She fell, and landed like lead against the floorboards, slamming into them face-first.
It all happened so quickly—the unexpected careening, the rocking back and forth. I found myself fighting with gravity, which sucked and pulled at my body, trying to move me all at once to the front of the VAN. While behind and all around me I heard items falling off the shelves and rattling along the floor.
And then just as quickly everything moved in the opposite direction, and I was abruptly pinned against the back of my seat. My head flew back and smacked the bench behind me.
When it all stopped—when the VAN had finally come to a full and complete stop—and everything was still and silent at last, I lifted my head to assess our situation.
Supplies littered the aisle, and dust hung in the air.
Brook didn’t seem nearly as confused as I felt, and she shot up from the floor, looking like a hornet, ready to sting. “Why’d you do that?” she accused, and still I had trouble discerning why she was so angry. “Why on earth would you do that?” She demanded as she strode furiously toward Eden.
Eden sprang up too.
My mind was as cluttered as the VAN now, and the dawning that Eden had done this on purpose, by slamming on the brakes, came entirely too slowly.
But Eden didn’t back down when Brooklynn confronted her. She approached Brook with just as much will, and I could feel my hackles rising as the situation escalated.
“You have no business questioning my motives,” Eden barked in Brooklynn’s face. “You know nothing of our lives before Xander. Nothing about what I had to give up to join his rebellion. Or even why I did it.”
“I know I wouldn’t have left that little boy—”
Without warning Eden swung at Brook. I reacted too, jumping out of my seat and hurtling toward them, not sure what my plan was but knowing that nothing good could come from the two of them coming to blows.
“Stop!” I shouted, but I was too late. Eden’s fist found its target, crashing hard into Brook’s jaw.
Brook staggered backward, momentarily dazed by the blow. But it lasted only a moment, and Brook came back up almost as fast as she’d gone down. Before I could shout again, she was launching herself at Eden.
I’d seen Brook fight one other time, the day she and Xander’s troops had stormed the palace. The day Sabara’s Essence had fused into me.
But that day I’d been too weak, and too concerned with other matters, to realize how capable Brook was. My parents and Aron had both been taken hostage and tortured by Sabara. And I’d been concerned about my sister, whom Sabara would just as willingly have taken if I hadn’t said the words first, sparing Angelina.
I knew Brook could wield weapons and strategize with the best of them. Otherwise I’d never have made her the commander of my armed forces. But with her unarmed, I half-expected Eden to lay Brook flat after a couple of well-placed blows. Turns out, I’d underestimated Brook’s ability to defend herself hand to hand.
They were well matched, these two women. Too well matched for my liking, and I watched as Brook landed a solid punch to the lower right side of Eden’s back, making her double over, wincing in agony. And just when I thought Brook had the upper hand and Eden might back down, Eden turned, still huddled over, and launched a kick straight at Brook’s chest, sending her staggering back once more.
I turned on my heel and rushed toward the rear of the VAN, deciding I couldn’t let this go on or someone would end up buried in the rocky soil before we reached the border. I was irritated enough by their childish behavior that when my finger stroked the trigger, I barely had to swallow back a sliver of guilt over what I had to do.
When I released the safety, both of their heads snapped up, as if they’d been conditioned to identify the sound of deadly arms and react to it.
“You wouldn’t.” Eden’s eyes narrowed as they focused on the crossbow I held, directed at the two of them.
But Brooklynn didn’t look nearly as certain, and she backed away, disentangling herself from Eden, her hands slowly lifting. “Charlie,” she intoned warningly. “That’s not a toy.” “I know exactly what it is and how to use it,” I told her, and I watched as recognition registered in her expression. I wondered if it was something in my eye, or the fact that I’d armed it myself and I held it straight and true. “Looks like I won’t be needing that lesson after all.” I took in the scratches on her cheek, and the swelling that was already starting along her jaw.
I glanced at Eden, too. The skin around her left eye was inflamed and pink, and would probably be a deep shade of purple by morning. My fear now was that it would swell, making it hard for her to see while she drove us, and that worry pricked my ire toward the both of them.
“Get up!” I insisted, waving the point of the arrow from one to the other irritably. “You’ve had your fun. Now get up and clean this mess. I’m tired and we don’t have time to waste on your childishness. The two of you will get along, or so help me . . .” If stomping my foot would have punctuated my words, I would have done so. But I worried that I would sound childish, so I stopped myself in time.
“Or what? You’ll . . . shoot us?” Brook finished, daring to mock me. “Fine. You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting. But let’s be honest. You’re not shooting anyone, Charlie . . . or Layla . . . or whoever you are. Put that thing away. We’ll be good.” She glanced at her cohort in this fiasco and held out her hand in truce. “Won’t we, Eden?”