Free The Gathering by K. E. Ganshert Page B

bus finds the highway. I don’t speak. It’s like I’m afraid speaking will draw attention. So I remain silent while the miles accumulate behind us.
    Across from me, Link sleeps with his head resting against the window. Each one of his breaths sends a fresh layer of fog across the glass. He’s stretched his left leg out so his foot is right next to mine. Beside him, Jillian walks a quarter up and down the knuckles of her right hand.
    Luka sets his hand on my knee. “Breathe.”
    “Aren’t I?”
    “It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.” His calm demeanor reminds me of our break-in at Shady Wood—the first time around when our physical bodies were actually there. I’d been on the verge of hyperventilation and he was all confident and collected. Like a legit doctor. “Care to tell me what you’re thinking?”
    “I’m thinking that I’d like you to knock me out and wake me up when we get there.”
    “That might draw some attention. Would it help if we talked about something instead?”
    For a moment, I almost ask him about last night’s nightmare, but I kill the question before it has a chance to live. That isn’t a conversation for a greyhound bus. “Like?”
    He looks up at the bus’s ceiling, as if considering. “How about this. What are you most looking forward to when this is all over?”
    I force my lungs to expand and contract. “Learning how to surf?”
    He leans his head back against the seat. “You’ll love it.”
    “Except there’s a good chance I’ll be terrible at it. And I’m slightly terrified of sharks.”
    One side of his mouth quirks into that crooked grin. It doesn’t really help with the breathing situation. “Don’t worry. I’m a good teacher. And if a shark comes anywhere near you, I’ll throw a shield at it.”
    I laugh. Some of the tension in my shoulders lets go. “Hey Luka?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Do you really think this will be over someday?”
    His eyes meet mine. They’re as serious as a heart attack. “Of course.”
    I relax against the seat, so immensely grateful that Luka’s here. That he’s okay. Before I get a chance to reciprocate his question, the temperature plummets.
    Jillian stops her quarter walking.
    Luka’s grip tightens on my knee.
    And my stomach turns to rock.
    At the front of the bus, right next to the driver, darkness materializes out of thin air. I force my lungs to do as Luka said—breathe. I remind myself that this thing—whatever it is—cannot see me. Luka has me cloaked. I’m safe.
    So why then, does the darkness creep closer?
    I look at Luka. His brow is furrowed in concentration.
    Cold sweat prickles beneath my arms. I don’t understand what’s happening? Why does this thing keep coming closer? Why isn’t Luka throwing his shield?
    The dark shadow lunges at me.
    I rear back in my seat with a sharp intake of breath.
    A blast of light bursts in front of my eyes. It doesn’t come from Luka. It comes from Jillian. Her shield slams into the shadowed form. The thing hurls through a woman in a business suit, then disappears.
    My attention darts around the bus. I’m positive we’ve caused a scene. We had to. But the people to our left continue their conversation. A man behind us turns the page of a magazine. Link keeps on sleeping. The bus driver keeps on driving. The woman in the business suit, however, has looked up from her newspaper. She looked up the second the shadow flew through her, and now she’s peering at me.
    I look down, but not quickly enough. Her stare heats the crown of my head. A few seconds tick by before I’m brave enough to peek. Her narrowed eyes are pinned on Luka, whose face has gone pasty white. I bump his leg with mine. He looks at me, a whole army of questions gathering in his dilated pupils. I have them, too. I just can’t focus on them right now. Not when the woman is typing something into her phone. She glances up from her screen, looks from me to Luka, then resumes her typing with fast thumbs.
    My