The Spirit Seducer (The Echo Series Book 1) (22 page)

“This has something to do with me being a virgin. Layla told me about how my first lover is the only one I can have children with.”

“She would,” he sighed. “We’re complicated, Echo. More complicated because of the prophecy.”

We stared at each other, but Zeke’s features turned stony. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to tell me more.

After what seemed like hours, I asked, “Do you know where Layla is? Last I saw her, she was falling.”

Zeke’s expression turned grim. “She isn’t here.”

“I figured that part out all by myself.” I kept my tone dry. His eyes narrowed, and I mirrored the action. While I didn’t know all the details of our entwined pasts or our futures, I was going to find out—and soon.

“I have to find her. And the other in the Four. He’s around. Hidden, like I was.”

He stilled. “Why do you think that?”

“You have your secrets. I have mine. Plus, a spirit army that wants to help me kick godly ass. You’re either gonna help me do that or you need to step out of the way.”

His lips flipped up. Dammit. Why did that smirk make me breathless?

“You’re threatening me?”

I crossed my good arm over my chest and drew myself up as tall as possible. Didn’t work well with my broken arm and sprained leg. “No. But I am mad at you.”

“I can tell.”

“I’m calling the shots here, bucko.”

“You win one battle and you’re what? Capable of taking on the whole world?” Amusement wafted off him in thick waves.

“Look, you’ve pushed me around, kept me in the dark. All of you. I’m done with that.”

I sliced my good arm through the air and he stepped back, dropping the hand that had cupped my elbow. I staggered, and tears built in my eyes as more of my weight hit my aching leg.

“You sure about going out on your own there, Echo? Just how do you plan to save Layla and the rest of the world when you can hardly walk?”

“Screw you,” I gasped.

“No, you won’t.”

I slammed my eyes shut and pivoted on my good leg. I limped away from him. Zeke cursed and then he was beside me again, cupping my elbow. “You’d do it—just walk away from me.”

“Doesn’t seem like there’s any point in staying.”

“You can’t, Echo.” Desperation built with each word.

I faced him, all my emotions boiling up and over. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do! I’m so damn tired of being weak, ignorant. I’m tired of being treated like a fragile toy by you and Layla—and even by my mom—taken out to play with from time to time.”

I swallowed down the tears. My mom was gone. At least in the physical sense. She wouldn’t be one of the spirits I cradled in my necklace or called out to help me when I was too scared or overwhelmed to do this alone.

That hurt.

Zeke spoke, his words carefully paced, obviously quoting. “‘From the broken tablet, the Four of ancient power and bloodline pure—’”

“The Prophecy,” I gasped.

Zeke spread his arms, and I sank back to the sand, my leg unable to support my weight.

“You’ve known. This whole time. You’ve known the whole prophecy.” My voice shook. “Masau told you.”

Zeke nodded, his lips pulled into a tight, flat line.

“And Coyote thought forcing my magic from my body would—what?”

“I don’t know, Echo. I promise, I don’t know how he thought it would change the prophecy or improve his chances at taking over the world in Sotuk’s place.”

“But the Four can?”

“All together, we’re the force that’s supposed to save Earth. That was foretold later, and not by Sotuk.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because he was gone.” Zeke said.

My chest tightened and I wondered in a vague sense if this truth would kill me.

“My mom.”

Zeke’s jaw was rigid—too rigid. But he dipped his head.

“He told her?” I asked, but I already knew the truth. Its horrible reality settled over me—an icky cloak I’d never shed.

“No. Sotuk didn’t tell her. She knew before she met him.”

There were no tears. I’d thought I knew her, understood her motivations. But I’d been wrong. If what Zeke said was true, my mother sought out Sotuk because of the prophecy. She’d chosen to be a guardian, mother of one of the Four. She’d used Sotuk, and I was the outcome—as much of a cosmic mistake as Layla and Zeke were.

“You, me, Layla . . . the other child. We were born to be their pawns.”

“We’ve always been pawns, Echo. Not just us, but the children who came before—the children who come after us, if there are any.”

“So they make us to use us.”

“They try.”

I rested my forehead on my knees. No wonder Zeke pushed me away. Our connection might be nothing more than the gods’ manipulation. I shuddered. My entire life had been decided, my course set well before my birth.

I lifted my head. “The tablet had to break to set the prophecy into motion?”

Zeke nodded.

“Was I the one who had to break it?”

“I don’t think so. It could have been any of us.”

Dammit. I didn’t want to be the catalyst.

“You weren’t,” Zeke said.

I flushed. Once again, I’d spoken my thought aloud.

“My birth is what set this into motion.”

“So what—exactly—happens now that I broke the tablet?”

“A lot of really bad stuff. You mentioned some of it yourself. It’s supposed to signify end of days.”

“And we let that happen while we search for Layla and the last of the Four?”

“We’ll try to stave off as much of the bad stuff as we can. But we have to find Layla and the other. Sooner than soon.”

“They—the gods—didn’t want us together for a reason. Is that because we can save the world? Without their help?” I asked.

“I really don’t know. But I promise you this: You can trust me, Echo. I’ll protect you. Always.”

There it was—a vow I wasn’t sure I wanted. Not that I doubted his sincerity. It poured off him as thick as smoke.

“Okay,” I whispered. “But,” I cleared my throat, “no more secrets. From now on, we’re a team.”

“Fair enough.” Zeke looked across the landscape, clearly replaying the events in his mind. “We need to get moving.”

“How?”

“On that.” He pointed to a shiny motorcycle. There was a lot of chrome and black leather.

“I don’t think so.” I scooted back on my butt, farther from the offending motorcycle. “Just,” I waved my hand, “do your time-space travel.”

I dreaded that sucked-through-space feeling, but it was better than getting on a motorcycle with the only man I wanted—the man who wouldn’t allow himself to want me back. This back and forth between us was getting old.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why?”

“Besides the fact that breaking the tablet has made opening a
sipapu
near impossible? Lots of spirits and demons are running around, using the open portals to try to get back to safety.”

“No,” I gasped.

“When I tried to travel that way here, I got caught up.”

“And it’s my fault you had to fight your way here?”

“Stop it. Do you really think I planned to leave you and Layla alone?”

“Shakola was involved with that storm here, Zeke. Just as she led Jaguar to your house. I saw those glittery bits.”

Sadness and frustration wafted from him.

“Did Shakola give you the motorcycle?”

“No. I’m not forgiving her for trying to lure you out of my yard. Or her part in the storm here. But . . . it’s worse than that.” He put his hand on my arm, an offer of comfort for the next emotional blow. “She led Coyote to your house in Santa Fe.”

I sucked on my lip. I wasn’t surprised. I’d felt her dislike. She saw me as a rival for Zeke’s affections, and she was mercenary enough to kill me off so I was no longer a threat. In any form.

I flexed my hands. If I ever saw her again, we were going a few rounds.

“So what is it?” I rasped, gesturing toward the motorcycle. I didn’t care, but I had to take my mind off the fact Shakola was as responsible for my mother’s death as Coyote was.

“Triumph Thunderbird Commander,” he said, a spark of excitement racing from him and lighting up my arm.

“Looks dangerous.”

“It’s fast and maneuverable,” he countered.

“Great. Well, too bad I can’t get on it. My bones are broken and I lost my driver’s license.”

Zeke chuckled, tucking my hair back, his fingers skimming down the scab on my neck. His lips straightened and his eyes lost their sparkle.

“That the best you can come up with?”

“Besides the fact it scares me?”

“Says the woman who just took out the god of chaos and seduction.”

He picked up a black helmet and put it on my head. His fingers brushed my chin as he snapped the buckle. He hauled me closer to the bike, then offered me a big, stainless steel canteen. I took it and drank, trying not to be self-conscious as he watched my throat ripple with each swallow.

“Thanks.”

He smiled as he took the water bottle and slid it back into one of the saddlebags on the side of the Thunderbird. He slid smoothly into the saddle in front of me before helping me onto the bike. It was awkward with my bandaged arm and my aching knee, but I managed.

“How long before it’s healed?”

Zeke shrugged. “It’s different for each of us. But you’re powerful and that has to help.”

He revved the engine. For a moment, I wondered where I should put my hands. With a mental shout, YOLO, I wrapped my arms around his waist.

The engine roared and the vibrations built between my legs and into my butt.

“Where are we going?” I had to yell into his ear.

“First? To find Layla.”

“And then?”

“To fix the world.”

W
ith a degree
in international marketing and a varied career path as a content manager for a web firm, marketing director for a high-profile sports agency and a two-year stint with a renowned literary agency, Alexa Padgett has returned to her first love: writing fiction.

Alexa spent a good part of her youth traveling. From Budapest to Belize, Calgary to Coober Pedy, Alexa soaked in the myriad smells, sounds, and feels of these gorgeous places, wishing she could live in them all—at least for a while. And she does in her books.

She lives in New Mexico with her husband, children and ginormous, piano-hating Anatolian Shepherd, Mozart. When not writing, schlepping or volunteering, she can be found in her tiny kitchen, channeling her inner Barefoot Contessa.

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hank
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ou can find her here
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T
here are so
many people I need to thank. This journey wasn’t an easy one. First, my husband, Chris, and my parents. Your support made this possible.

To Kari, Tracey and Meribeth, thank you for reading early drafts. Jeffe, thank you for steering me onto the right track.

Without the LERA ladies and gents, I wouldn’t be writing today. Thank you so much for your generosity and support.

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C
HAPTER
ONE

I
killed
my mother last night.

A bit of an exaggeration, but not much. She asked me to let her die so I could inherit her magic. The lesson I learned? I hated martyrdom. Too many good people died being martyrs.

My mom was one of them, but her death meant more than saving me. All her life, she strived to find a lasting peace, a way to save her world, my world, from the whims of gods like Coyote and even Shakola, from demons like Jaguar and his Kachina brethren. Her life’s work wouldn’t be destroyed like her body I’d left in Waldo Canyon. I intended to balance the Elements, find that peace even if it meant kicking additional godly ass in the process. And I planned to find my best friend Layla.
Rápido
. No matter how many more gods, Kachina, demons, or other scary and as-yet-unknown obstacles I faced along the way.

I huddled closer to Zeke’s back as we sped over the unforgiving asphalt, drawing ever-closer to our people’s ancient lands. This was the best place to start our search for Layla, and if we were lucky, the fourth Halfling. We needed all four of the Four to fulfill the prophecy and rebalance the world.

I snorted. Luck didn’t smile on us—not with the gods all but blotting out our continued existence through their cloud of demon-spawn minions.

We intended to check Coyote’s den, a short distance from Zeke’s house. Or, what used to be Zeke’s house. Yep. Destroyed it, too, along with my mom’s house, my car, and just about every tenet I’d believed in.

Busy didn’t come close to describing these last few days.

“Incoming,” Zeke yelled.

“You have got to be kidding,” I muttered. I’d liked my world a whole lot more when I couldn’t see these creatures . . . and when they didn’t want me dead.

A cross between Jabba the Hutt and a horned lizard, this new demon, one I hadn’t seen before, scuttled across the juniper-strewn landscape faster than a train. The distance between us closed rapidly. Too rapidly.

Zeke skidded his motorcycle to a halt and leapt from the seat. “Stay back.”

As if. Just a few days ago, I wasn’t prepared to take on demons and otherworldly
coñazos
. Thankfully, that Echo María Ruiz was dead and buried under thousands of pounds of demonic ash and a few hefty regrets.

There had been big changes in my life, sure. None was so big as learning I was a spirit seducer. Correction,
the
spirit seducer. As in the only one. My role in the Prophecy of the Four, and especially the fact I was more god than not, had angered someone of importance. Someone other than Coyote. While the trickster god created many problems, not least of which was losing the two people closest to me in the world, he was now banished to Tokpella, the first and most hellish of Hisatsinom worlds. Now, some unknown god was targeting me, sending demons to kill me.

The approaching beast oozed evil. His body
dripped
goo. And it stood taller than most of the buildings in Santa Fe. Zeke raced across the grayish dirt, meeting the demon with both his spear and sword before I managed to climb off the bike, mindful of my hurt knee, and adjusted my sling. The spear entered the beast’s belly while Zeke kept running up its body, yanking out his spear and slamming it and his sword into the thick hide.

“Don’t let the glop touch you,” Zeke yelled.

“You okay?” I called back.

He didn’t answer. Concern at Zeke’s grunted curse propelled me forward.

Holy
frijoles
. The beast possessed a whip-fast tail and five-foot long front legs tipped with foot-long claws.

“Yeah,” Zeke called back.

The monster whipped back toward Zeke, hissing. It slammed its spiked, mace-like tail into the ground, reared, and slashed at Zeke with its front claws.

A large blob slid off the lizard’s back and hit the ground a few inches from my bare feet. The ground sizzled and began to smoke. I immediately regretted the loss of my flip-flops in the last battle, although they probably wouldn’t have been of much help. Three of the demon’s eyes locked onto me.

Zeke disappeared from my line of sight as soon as the beast tried to disembowel him. He ended up on the demon’s other side, where the other three of its six eyes were located.

“
So
not how I intended this year to go,” I muttered. Rent an apartment, maybe date a guy. Those were my simple, normal plans until I learned my father was the Hisatsinom creator god. My parentage wasn’t helping with my desire to be normal. Within hours of the revelation, I’d been attacked, mauled, and nearly raped. And that was all before Coyote used my mom’s magic to power the largest dust storm to ever cross the New Mexican desert, killing her, losing Layla, and destroying thousands of acres of land in an already-delicate ecosystem.

I might have overcompensated—hey, it was my first time fighting a god—when I flooded Waldo Canyon. On a positive note, all the water washed Coyote into a lower plane of existence. Unfortunately, the god disappeared down the whirlpool before I asked him where he sent Layla.

I needed to work on my Q&A skills. More importantly, I needed to find Layla if we were ever going to have a chance to right the balance in the world. I’d broken one of the sacred tablets Sotuk, my father and the Hisatsinom creator god, expressly forbade breaking. So far, there’d been earthquakes, fires, and lots of other chaos now unleashed on the world, and it was going to get worse.

But none of that was as pressing at the moment as avoiding the huge, pearlescent claws that lashed toward me, barely missing me. This demon was worse than the last.

“Ow,” Zeke groaned. A moment later, he said, “The stuff coming off is poisonous.”

I didn’t answer because a big glop was headed in my direction. I managed to duck the goo and freeze the snotty substance before it hit my skin. Did I mention I was Water? The element that went along with Zeke’s Earth. I wasn’t actually made from H
₂
O any more than a normal person, but with my powers I controlled all liquids in my vicinity. Rather, I was learning to control liquids. That included Jabba the Great Horned Slimeball’s goo.

“Zeke?”

I darted around the giant lizard’s blobby middle section. A wound covered most of Zeke’s left arm, fire engine red, like a burn. I yelped, falling back when the lizard swiped his massive tail at me.

“Honani?” I called, gripping my pendant. Honani, the spectral guardian assigned by my father years ago, was my liaison with the spirits who’d helped me force Coyote back down into the first world. The clay’s coolness warmed past the point of bearable and I let go.

Much as I didn’t want to bother my spirits so soon after their battle with Coyote, I needed some support.

“Here.” My spectral guardian appeared in front of me. “That demon fouls the air.” Honani’s haughty nose flared in disgust.

“The goo is toxic. To humans—or so Zeke said. Would you swirl around the demon’s eyes? We need the demon dizzy or at least distracted.”

“On it,” he said, and gave a sharp salute. Yuck, I didn’t want him treating me like Fearless Leader or—oooh!—Wonder Woman! Nope. Still too weird.

Within a moment, twenty or so of the spirits zoomed from my pendant. They gathered around the demon’s warty, dome-shaped head. Its many eyes swiveled, each trying to latch onto one of the spirits.

While the lizard staggered, trying to focus on the myriad targets, I focused my energy on everything liquid inside its huge form. Just in time for the beast to try to slam its slimy, warty body into my side. Stumbling backward, my leg—the one I’d hurt in my fight with Coyote—buckled with a whimper-inducing pop.

I moaned out all the air I had in my lungs as the hot place in my mind, where my power seemed to dwell, lashed out. The lizard lurched, gurgling. It’s three eyes focused on my face, malevolence pouring off its body, and it stiffened as the ice formed a film over the demon’s organs.
Yes
. I focused on the exterior and pulled moisture from inside the demon and the air around it.

Zeke threw his spear into the demon’s chest. He stepped back and made a running leap, this one much higher than the fence in his yard he’d cleared with such ease. Like a basketball player about to dunk high. With an easy grab, Zeke yanked the spear free. The demon’s front legs gave and it collapsed onto its bleeding chest. Zeke slammed the gore-covered tip of his spear into one of the monster’s eyes.

My spirits congregated in front of me. I dipped my head as I placed my hand over my heart. “Thank you.”

They babbled, excitement clear in their tone, as they returned to the plane on the other side of my pendant.

“How’s the leg?” Zeke asked.

“I’m fine.” Mostly.

The lizard tried to whip its tail forward, but its insides and oozy exterior froze, the ice stiffening before forming a thick, impenetrable crust. Zeke spun, leapt over the pus-covered appendage, and drove his spear into another eye. That blade, whatever it was, slid with ease through the icy exterior.

The demon tried to stand on its legs, but teetered and crashed onto its scaly chin. Toward me, of course. I yelped as I backpedaled again, grimacing at the soreness in both my legs. Already, the beast’s legs crumbled into piles of white dust—the same as the other demons we’d faced and beaten.

The only positive in this mess I called my life was Zeke. He remained steadfast, battling demons for me. Thanks to him, I fought demons in the Fourth World instead of in Tokpella—or wherever gods sent dead, naughty Halflings.

I’d spent the last hour of our ride—before the demon leapt from a dusty patch of juniper-covered mesa into our path—pondering Zeke’s parentage. He hadn’t told me who his parents were and didn’t want to. Each time we came close to the subject, shame wafted off him. Of course, his reaction only made me more curious, but he had to want to tell me. So far, his secret remained tucked inside his recalcitrant self.

Odd though our relationship was, I trusted Zeke more than I trusted anyone. Even my mother, who’d lied to me my whole life. Or Layla, who’d kept her own counsel not just from me but from Zeke and my mother. Thanks to Zeke, the gods who wanted to use my power to take over the world hadn’t been successful. Yet.

There’d be others who would try. Coyote was simply the first in a long line of greedy
idiotas
who refused to be satisfied with the gifts and power they already had.

Shakola, the cloud goddess, sat at the top of the list of power-hungry haters. If no one else stepped forward to try to rip my magic from my resistant body, she would always be there, trying to kill me or at least trying to steal my powers. And Zeke.

Yeah, I was part of a love triangle. Well, sort of. Any way I viewed it, there was too much going on emotionally for a girl who’d never been on a date.

Honani knelt his amorphous form at my side. He placed his freezing hands under my elbows and yanked. He lacked a skeleton, so the lift was like a huge gust of controlled wind. I sucked in a breath but managed to keep weight on my leg. Not broken, then. Good.

Zeke finished cleaning his spear tip. The New Mexican wind carried away more of the demon’s dust as Zeke’s boots crunched over what was left of the lizard’s ashy skeleton.

I grabbed his arm, my concern greater than the tingle shooting through my hands when I touched his skin. He jerked once before his muscles bunched in an effort to remain still.

“Gross.” I wrinkled my nose. “All the skin is gone.”

“Not all. I’ll put some salve on it,” he said.

“You need to wear your armor.”

“No time to put it on.”

“Make time.”

He smiled, probably because he found my concern silly. “Not being dead took precedence.”

“Thanks for finishing the slimeball,” I said.

He grimaced at his arm. “You’re the one who destroyed it, but believe me, I enjoyed stabbing it a few times.”

Much as I wanted to help him, I wasn’t versed in healing magic. That had to change. Not only for Zeke, but for myself. In the last few days, I’d broken multiple bones and my throat was nearly crushed twice.

I released his wrist. He stowed his weapons before fishing the stainless-steel salve container from his pocket. He dipped into the white cream, then dabbed his ointment-covered fingers over his flailed skin, his arm steady as sweat streamed from his forehead.

He stored the salve and patted my helmeted head with his right hand. “You were smart to keep this on.”

I settled on the motorcycle, unwilling to tell him that, during the moments of terror when the demon rose up out of the landscape, I’d forgotten I was still wearing it. I wrapped my good arm around Zeke’s waist as he turned on the engine.

When he pulled back onto the highway, dust swirled around us and I tensed, readying myself for another attack. When one didn’t come, Zeke opened the throttle, revving the bike to dizzying speed.

Shifting my aching leg, I leaned my helmeted head against Zeke’s back. My thigh didn’t throb with the same teeth-grinding pain I’d awakened to after my fight with Coyote, but speed-healing created its own kind of discomfort. My sling caught on Zeke’s back as I hugged him tighter and he sped into the midmorning sun.

I wiggled my fingers, smiling when pain didn’t lance up my arm. Score a point for magic. Quick-healing was a fabulous benefit, but one I’d trade for a way to contact Layla. Much as Zeke didn’t want me to, I couldn’t resist the impulse to reach out to her mentally.

So far, Layla remained silent. Scarily so. Like my mom, she was a constant in my life, someone I talked to every day, if not more often. With both of them gone, I was lost.

We topped another hill, but the city still shimmered in the distance. I couldn’t talk to Zeke over the shriek of the wind, which left me with too much time to think. I missed my mom. Until this week, not a day—sometimes not an hour—went by without my seeing her, talking to her.

Grief swept over me, pulling me down. To think the week started as any other: me, a migraine-impaired college graduate wishing almost desperately for adventure.
Ten cuidado con lo que deseas
—careful what you wish for—and all that.