Read Online Edge Walkers by Shannon Donnelly - Free Book Online Page B

needs, or taking care of them quick, alone at dawn, when he was so exhausted he couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to dream. He wasn’t sure if Temple had sexual needs—or how he took care of them—which was probably a good thing. And Gideon wondered now if part of his insistence that Carrie had to stay came from his wish for more than what he had. He hated to think that, but he had to be honest.
    Which meant, if she could go back, he should let her. Sooner had to be better—right? Or would another full crossing kill her? God only knew, a partial felt like part of your body was being fed into a tree shredder. Crossing here in the first place, well, he’d forgotten the worst of it, but he still had the scars on him. He’d seen them on her, too—fine white lines imprinted on her skin. He wasn’t sure she’d noticed them yet.
    He looked down at his feet, scuffed a fragment of bone from the street with the toe of his boot and thought about what he should tell her.
    Truth was truth—he had a reason to stay. He might ache for home, but not before he finished. It could be he’d lost his chance anyway. He’d fought to stay here. He’d learned how to anchor himself, almost like a damn Walker. But that didn’t mean Carrie had to. And what if she did stay? What if one of them got her like...
    No. That wasn’t happening. They’d have to take his skin first. But, thank god, Carrie didn’t need that of him right now.
    She walked next to him. He heard the scuff of her step, a little unsteady. She had to be in shock still. And he really should not have given in to how she’d felt in his arms last night, but it had been an awful day, more deaths, more blood on his hands. She’d been so blessedly alive. She was now one of their rare successes. And he knew Temple felt the same—they wouldn’t let anything touch her. But keeping her safe meant she had to understand the danger.
    Risking a glance at her face, Gideon saw the rawness of his world was sinking in. He could see it in how her eyes widened, how her breath caught, how her gaze darted over the remnants of a civilization.
    “My God,” she muttered.
    He nodded. “I know. Power grids are gone. Support systems have fragmented into underground pockets. There’s—well, glimmers of hope. Or endurance maybe.” She glanced at him and he kept his voice low and soft as he said, “They tried to drive out these things. Now it’s a matter of who can hang on the longest. Them or us. Which side has the best hunters.”
    Like Temple. Like what Gideon had become.
    Keeping his gaze moving, Gideon watched the sky for any telltale spark. That’s how it always started. A visible distortion, a spike on the EM meter that sizzled before the Rift opened. Temple had the meter with him, so that was covered. They’d hear any movement from Walkers looking for new skins to replace ones too torn up by hard use. But dawn and twilight tended to be low cycles. He didn’t know why, but he was glad for even an hour of emptiness. Still, he watched the sky and kept his movements quiet. Of course, he hadn’t gotten used to the silence in this world, either.
    No cars or planes or vehicles broke the stillness. It was worse than a city emptied by a major holiday, because the stores weren’t just closed, they were shells. He led Carrie past them, to the ends of the city. The buildings thinned and spaces widened and the dust swirled, red and so fine it clung to any drop of sweat on your skin. The dust lifted up from the quarry, or that’s what he called the open pit dug into the ground.
    Stopping, Carrie stared at it and pushed the back of her hand across her cheek, smearing the dust in a streak. “What is it?”
    He shrugged and stared at the ruins to see what she saw. “Power station maybe. Once. Or a factory. It’s abandoned, like everything. Come on. We have to be quick.”
    They approached from the south, if you judged orientation by the faint glow of a sun moving across the dull sky. He