Echo (25 page)

I dart behind a large boulder just as a flash of beige fur and red glowing eyes bursts into the space where I stood.

Coyote.

Cade’s coyote no doubt.

He skids to a stop with his snout pitched high, catching my scent. And it’s only a moment later when another coyote appears—its fangs and fur coated with blood and the slimy remnants of some unfortunate kill.

The second I see them I know Leftfoot was right.

While Cade may not be a skinwalker in the traditional sense, he is able to assume other forms.

My fingers snake into my pocket, in search of the blowgun Leftfoot once gave me that was given to him by Alejandro, a Brazilian jaguar shaman, who also happens to be the grandfather Daire never met. According to Leftfoot, the weapon was carefully carved from a rare wood found only in the Amazon rain forest. But before he agreed to hand it over, he forced me to promise that I would only use it for self-defense.

The coyotes crouch side by side—noses twitching, eyes darting—just seconds away from discovering the place where I hide.

So why let it get to that point?

Why wait for them to attack me—just so I can claim self-defense—when I can easily snuff them out now?

I reach for a dart, pinching it by its raven-feathered fletch as I load it inside.

Then I slide one eye closed, narrow the other in focus, lift the small tube to my mouth, and take aim.

Watching as Coyote snarls. Lunging in a flash of gleaming eyes, gnashing teeth, and hot rancid breath pelting hard against my cheek. His jaw widening, ready to take another chunk out of me—

When he falters.

Stumbles.

Collapsing to the ground and howling in pain.

I smile triumphantly, though the smile soon fades when I lift my gaze to find Cade looming naked and bloodied before me, bits of animal carcass clinging to his skin.

I’ve hit the wrong mark.

“What the hell are you doing?” He drops beside Coyote, cursing bitterly as he drags on the fletch, yanking the dart from his neck. And damn if he isn’t smart enough to know it doesn’t end there. He lowers his head to the hit, molds his lips around it, and siphons the poison I’d placed on the tip, before spitting it onto the ground. “You’re a real idiot, you know that?” He shakes his head and glares, watching as I reload the blowgun and take aim once again. “Trust me,” he says. “You do
not
want to do that.”

“You have no idea what I want.” I wrap my lips around the tube, inhale a deep, purposeful breath, and blow once again.

Blow with everything that I’ve got.

Letting loose my own stream of curses when Cade dances free of the dart’s path, and turns into a coyote again.

The other one now fully recovered, they stand in solidarity before me—shoulder to menacing shoulder.

Eyes blazing with vengeance, leaving no doubt it’s my blood they’re after. And before I can run, before I can reload and take aim—they descend on me in a frenzy of ragged claws and sharp fangs.

thirty-four

Daire

The first thing I notice when I burst through the wall is the demon.

Or should I say,
demons
. After all, there’s an entire army of them.

The second thing I notice is how no one seems to be the least bit alarmed by the giant-sized, malevolent beings that surround them. Barely sparing a glance at the variety of tails, and hooves, and horns, and misshapen heads. Not to mention the faces that appear to be a grotesque mix of animal, human, and some other unidentifiable beast that originated in a very dark place.

The crowd just continues to shuffle along in their numbed and glazed state. And when it’s my turn to pass, despite my best efforts to blend with the rest, it’s not long before one of those long, ragged claws reaches toward me, as he shoves his face close to mine. Its dark slitted eyes peering so close, I break into a sweat.

This can’t happen.

I can’t afford to be outted.

Not now.

Not after getting this far.

I steady my breath and stare straight ahead, covertly wagging the pack of cigarettes before him as I send a silent prayer to my ancestors, the elements, my talismans, anyone who might be willing to listen. Praying the tobacco offering will work as well as it did the last time I was here, and heaving a sigh of relief when he accepts the bribe and tosses it into his mouth, plastic wrapper and all.

We pass through the tunnel that leads to the cave, then we slip through the entry and on past the den. Making our way down the long hall where we crowd into a semicircle, listening to, from what I can make out, some sort of initiation speech.

The words a bit muffled from where I stand, though I’m still able to discern things like:
Great opportunity … rare blue tourmaline … a fortune to be made … free room and board
 … None of which leaves me with any more insight than I started with.

Though one thing’s for sure—the only fortune to be made will be for the Richters. These people won’t see a dime of it.

A moment later, we’re moving again. Pushing through the second wall that leads to the valley of sand, where we begin our trek across the desert terrain. My fellow travelers so glazed, so obedient, I wonder if they even realize what they’re doing, where it is they’re going. It’s as though they’re caught in a trance, programmed to do what they’re told and not to react to anything unusual.

When we reach the point where the hill crests and the ground gives way, I’m careful to shield myself from the mass of flailing limbs as we tumble toward the Lowerworld, where I leap to my feet and scramble behind a guy twice my size. Adjusting my hood so it shields the better part of my face, hoping to go unrecognized until I’m ready to be seen.

“Welcome!” Cade calls, his voice deep and sure. “I’m glad you all could make it—that you’ve decided to reach a little higher—do something more meaningful with your lives than spending your days slumping over the bar, getting sloshed out of your minds. Our cause is a great one, and you should be proud of your part in it…” He drones on, reciting a speech that’s completely unnecessary. These people are captive. His to command. There’s no reason to go on like he does, other than the fact that he loves to hear himself speak. Finally reaching the end when he says, “So, it’s time we get started. I see no reason to delay. But first—your uniforms.”

He reaches into a large cardboard box an undead Richter has placed by his side and goes about tossing heaps of black, short-sleeved T-shirts bearing a picture of him into the crowd, like he once tossed souls to the army of undead Richters.

“Take one and pass the rest,” he barks. “This is so you never forget who you’ve sworn fealty to.” His gaze grows darker as he takes in his subjects assembled before him.

When the guy in front of me hands me a T-shirt, I take a moment to examine it. Noting how the grin in Cade’s picture is a perfect match for the one he wears now.

Fake.

Empty.

A meaningless void.

It’s the smile of a psychopath.

An egomaniacal freak with no access to human emotion, so the best he can do is imitate.

I crunch it into a ball and discard it at my feet. I have no intention of wearing it. No intention of working for him. My immediate goal is to determine what he’s up to. And then—

And then I’m no longer sure.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

“You’ll be mining for tourmaline. Pure blue tourmaline. Which, just so you know, is one of the most precious, rarest, and therefore most costly, stones on earth. Though make no mistake— you will enjoy all of the labor and none of the profits. And any of you even considering pocketing a rock you think no one will miss—think again. We are watching you at all times. The price for that kind of treason is immediate death with no questions asked. And any of you wanting to turn back—it’s too late. There is no escape.”

A few grunts of protest erupt from the crowd, but it’s not like Cade cares. He expects nothing less than their absolute submission, and there’s no doubt he’ll get it.

He turns on his heel, confident that we’ll follow (we do), as he leads us across a blackened scorched land to an elaborate mining operation guarded by an army of more undead Richters. The sight of which leaves me gaping in astonishment.

I’m out of my element.

Out of my league.

The double-sided knife I’ve stashed up my sleeve is a joke, no matter what Paloma claims.

There are way too many Richters—way too many heads to remove—versus only one of me.

While the athame may hold the power to slay Cade, I won’t even get that far before I’m overcome by the rest of them.

I’ve completely miscalculated.

Ignored common sense in favor of anger and thoughts of revenge.

Despite Valentina’s claim:
Your intent fuels your will, and your will is your way—
I don’t see how either one of those things will bring me to victory when I’m so outnumbered like this.

I crouch behind the guy before me, tipping my hood just enough to see what a mess this place is.

The mine is the cause of this environmental disgrace. The very reason why the ocean is polluted and the fish are all dying. But Cade won’t care. Violating the Lowerworld will not only result in profit for him but will also ensure that the Middleworld will soon fall to ruin—just as he planned.

When my fellow travelers crowd into the shaft, I slip free of their ranks and hide among a grove of burned-out tree carcasses. Stealing a moment to observe the goings on while I decide my next move.

There’s no reason to take any chances. If I’ve any hope of helping these people—of getting them out of here—I have to make it back to the Middleworld, where I can consult the elders and come up with a much better way to handle this.

When the entire group disappears inside the mine, Cade looks around with a creepy self-satisfied grin.

A creepy self-satisfied grin that fades the instant he tips his nose in the air and captures my scent. Whirling in my direction, his eyes deep, opaque, and fathomless, he says, “Do you know what I find most fascinating about ravens?”

I swallow hard. Slip the athame into my hand. Watching as he snaps his fingers and raises his arm, smiling in triumph when a moment later Raven, my Raven, obediently lands on his finger.

“Not only can they be trained to come on command, but they’re also exceedingly gifted at mimicry. They can repeat all manner of sounds and phrases with absolute perfect pitch. For example—” He peers at Raven, cooing softly when he says, “Go ahead, tell Santos what you know.”

Right on command, Raven’s purple eyes glimmer as he croaks, “The Seeker loves the Echo.” His voice a perfect match for Cade’s.

I remove the sheath from the blade, keep it close to my side.

“Cute, huh?” Cade gives Raven an affectionate tap on the head. “Of course, we’ve only just started, got a ways to go still.” He releases Raven, watching him lift into flight only to land on a branch just a few feet away. The sight of it causing Cade to make a face of distaste. “He’s so nosy.” He shakes his head and returns his attention to me. “How did you stand it?”

He strides toward me, as I grip the hilt tighter. Fingers pressing into the smooth black wood, ready to use it at the first opportunity. Allowing myself to exhale only when he stops a few feet away.

“But then you’re not here to watch stupid pet tricks, are you? And surely you’re not seeking a job, or at least I should hope not. It’s mind-numbing, soul-crushing work that wouldn’t even begin to utilize your many talents and skills.” He tilts his head, runs his tongue across his front teeth. A move so lurid, so obscene, I have to force myself not to react. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind when I approached you about working together. So, why don’t you just admit it, Santos, you’re here to see me.”

He shoots me one of his smug grins, and before I can stop myself, I say, “You’re completely delusional!” I step free of the tree, seeing no point in hiding when my cover’s been blown.

“Am I?” He regards me carefully. “And yet you can’t stop thinking about me—what’s up with that?”

I roll my eyes in reply. “You can’t do this. Despite what you think, the Lowerworld is not yours to control.”

He smirks. Looks all around. Gesturing to a surrounding landscape that would seem to beg otherwise. “Perhaps you should take another look,” he says, observing all the damage and destruction he’s caused. Clearly pleased by the bleak state of wretchedness he’s single-handedly wrought.

I ready the blade in my hand. One eye fixed on the army of Richters keeping a close watch on me, the other on Cade.

“I’m guessing you’ve come here to kill me.” He smiles patiently, like you do with a very slow child.

I clamp my lips shut. Refuse to confirm or deny.

“That’s the second assassination attempt in one day.” He runs a hand through his hair, his lip curling as though amused by the idea, while my own reaction is anything but.

If I’m the second attempt, then Dace was the first.

It also means he failed.

Failed in the way of the prophecy?

My body stiffens. My heart fails to beat. Aware that the game has just changed, and yet there’s a part of me that refuses to believe it.

If something did happen to Dace, surely I would have felt it. Surely I would’ve sensed it in some way.

Wouldn’t I?

“I always forget what a newbie you are.” Cade slips behind a mask of chagrin. “So, allow me to give you a little piece of advice that might spare us this brand of awkwardness in the future. You’re not going to kill me, Santos. Dace isn’t going to kill me either. Believe me when I say that any attempt on my life will not bode well for either of you. Not to mention that your pathetic little Wiccan pruning knife is hardly up to the task.”

I shift the knife behind my leg, secure it from view.

But he just laughs. “What—you think I can’t see it?” He studies me closely, sighing as he adds, “Maybe I’ve overestimated you. You’re a much slower learner than I thought you’d be.” His eyes slew over me, lingering in all the wrong places. “Do us both a favor and run along so we can both try to forget this ever happened. I’m a patient guy, Daire. And I’m truly trying to work with you here. But you need to work with me too. You need to accept the fact that there’s no point in going after me. You’re in way over your head. It’s my world, Seeker—you’re lucky I allow you to live in it.”