The place I once begged to visit—the place I once held so dear—the place that bestowed me with what I once considered the most incredible gift by restoring my sight—has descended into a scene so hellish, it’s like a mirror image of the wasteland of emotions warring inside.
I pound my fists into the dirt.
I thrash, kick, and scream with all I have in me.
Driven by an all-consuming hatred for this place—blaming it for fueling my dreams and encouraging me to believe the old me wasn’t quite good enough—that I needed improving.
But mostly, I hate myself for relinquishing my blind sight with barely a thought, in a desire to be normal, like everyone else.
It’s the reason I couldn’t get a read on Luther.
Why I couldn’t warn Auden against signing that contract.
Couldn’t warn Daire that something awful was afoot.
And because of it, the three worlds, like our lives, are in ruins.
Those weren’t sapphires embedded on that pen, they were blue tourmalines from Cade’s mine.
And the blood Auden spilled on that contract—the blood he accidentally spilled on my cheek—ties us to the Richters for all of eternity.
Because he agreed to beat the drum that illuminated the portals allowing Coyote unhindered access to the worlds long denied them, Auden will have unlimited riches, unsurpassed fame and success.
He’ll live the life of his dreams
But the fame will be fleeting.
The success comes with a shelf life of one single lifetime.
While our souls are doomed for all of eternity.
“Flower, hey—you okay?” Auden crawls up alongside me, brings a hand to my tearstained cheek. “Are you injured?”
I shake my head.
“Scared?”
“Not in the way you might think.”
“So what then?” He brushes a hand through my hair, tucks the strands back behind my ear. His touch so tender, his gaze so caring, I can’t bear to tell him the truth.
Though I guess he reads the look on my face, because he takes my hand and says, “How long have you known?”
His voice is somber, face grave.
“Probably not as long as you.”
“Xotichl—” He squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry. I messed up. I wanted this so badly, but only because I wanted you to believe in me. I wanted your mom to believe in me—I wanted to be good enough for her—to get her approval . . .”
My throat grows hot and tight. “Oh, Auden. Don’t you get it? No one will ever be good enough for my mom. That’s just how she is when it comes to me. But you’ve always been more than good enough for me—isn’t that what really matters?”
“It should’ve been. But I was so desperate for her blessing that I . . .” He shakes his head, squints his eyes closed as though he can’t bear to see or be seen. “And now, because of it, I’ve endangered you.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Auden opens his eyes, looks at me.
“Just because our plan’s a fail doesn’t mean we can’t improvise. There’s got to be a way to turn this whole thing around and I’m determined to find it. I’ve had enough of the Richters. They won’t get our souls that easily, not without a fight.” I get to my feet and entwine my fingers with his. Putting on a brave face and the voice to match, I say, “First, we need to find our friends and make sure they’re okay. Then we’ll deal with Luther and the Richters once and for all.”
THIRTY-THREE
LITA
The second the sand drops from under our feet, Axel pulls me tightly to his chest and wraps his arms snugly around me in an effort to cushion the fall.
He’s always there for me.
Always looking out for me.
In just six short months he’s become such an integral part of my life, I can’t imagine ever being without him.
We crash to the ground, with Axel on the bottom, me on top. And after determining we both survived seemingly unharmed, I bury my face in his chest and seek strength in his touch. Figuring I’m going to need it, since, from what I can tell, the world’s gone to hell.
“You okay?” Axel loosens his grip, gets us both to our feet, as I adjust the straps of my dress and conduct a quick inventory of myself.
“Yeah,” I say. “Or, at least, I think so. That mask is long gone, but good riddance. I’m just glad I let Daire convince me to wear these boots.” I raise the hem of my dress, gaze down at the hideous pair of hiking boots I was reluctant to wear. “The stilettos I had in mind never would’ve survived that fall.” I grin, jostle his shoulder, try to get a response. But he’s already drawing away. “What? What is it?” I follow the direction of his strangely glittering gaze, watching as he stares wide-eyed at a sky glowing red.
“It’s the Upperworld.” He turns to me, his face filled with pain. “It’s been breached.”
I study him closely, alarmed by the way his irises lighten until they’re almost iridescent in color. “Maybe it’s just more of Cade’s stupid magick tricks. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time. Last Christmas Eve he made the sky bleed fire. Practically firebombed the whole town.”
“It’s not Cade.” His tone is as regretful as his face. “I can hear the cries of my people in agony.”
He starts to withdraw. His movements so effortless, it’s as though he’s being willed by a much greater force.
“Axel!” I grasp his hand, force him to face me. “What are you doing?” I cry, though the answer is clear. His eyes reveal everything. “No.” My voice shakes, though it’s nothing compared to my knees. “No! You cannot go back there! You live here now!”
“Lita . . .” He turns long enough to cup his hands to my cheeks, his touch so soft I could easily be distracted if his gaze wasn’t so final.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” My voice is shrill in a way that would normally embarrass me, but not anymore, not when everything I cherish is about to fall apart. “You come into my life, make me fall head over heels for you, just so you can dump me the second the worlds go to hell?” I clutch his arm tightly, try to force a reply, but when he fails to speak, I try another approach and appeal to his practical side. “Axel, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you cannot leave me out here on my own. It’s dangerous, there are demons, and I’m completely unarmed!”
“You’re not unarmed.” He plucks the last remaining feather from my hair and brushes the vane softly against my cheek. “It’s a miracle you didn’t lose it in the fall. It must be an omen.”
“A miracle? Since when does a feather qualify as a miracle?” Hating the very sight of it, I bat it with the back of my hand, push it away. “Like that’s ever going to defend me against a Richter!” I glare, so angry, so incredibly insulted, I could scream. Though somehow, I manage to refrain.
“It’s not just any feather. It’s an Eagle—”
“I know what kind of feather it is!” I rub my lips together. Bite back a barrage of words I’ll only live to regret. Knowing it’s better to appear rational, if not entirely calm, I force myself to say, “Axel, I swear if you leave me here, I will—”
He presses a finger to my lips, which only tempts me to bite it. Not that it’ll do any good. He’ll just bleed a bit of gold, before the wound seals right up as though it never existed.
“Believe, Lita. That’s all I ask of you. Belief and intent are at the heart of all magick. It can’t possibly work without them.”
I start to push his hand away, but the second my fingers meet his, I find myself clasping it instead. “And who exactly am I supposed to send a prayer to? You? You gonna answer my wish once you get there?”
“If I’m able.”
“And if you’re not?”
He squeezes my fingers, holds my hand close to his chest. “Honestly, I’m just looking to get my own prayer answered. But, Lita, you need to know that prayers are like wishes. If you waste them on the frivolous, they won’t be there when you need them for something serious. So please th
ink long and hard before you put this to use.” He places the feather into my hand and curls my fingers around the quill.
“You’re serious. You’re really doing this, aren’t you?” My voice cracks, hardly able to believe this is happening. That Cade’s prophecy of our doomed romance is actually coming true.
Axel cups his palms to my cheek, his glimmering lavender eyes conveying all the things that words fail to. But it’s too painful. I can’t bear to look. So I shutter my eyes, tip onto my toes, and bring my lips to meet his. Allowing myself to revel in a touch so light, so mesmerizing, so loving, so fleeting . . .
And the next thing I know, he’s disappeared into a burst of blazing red light.
THIRTY-FOUR
DAIRE
I follow Chay’s Eagle to a fat nest of demons amusing themselves by terrorizing a warren full of rabbits.
Which is why they don’t notice me.
“Bunnies? Really?” I wave my athame before me. “You know, the rules are actually pretty simple, and yet you always seem to break them. So, allow me to remind you. First, there will be no terrorizing, killing, or eating of the sprit animals—”
They stop with the menacing and turn their attention to me, waiting to hear what comes next. That’s the thing about demons—while they’re definitely hideous, evil, incredibly dangerous, and prone to causing massive destruction, they’re also easily distracted.
Not to mention stupid.
“And second—”
My gaze moves among them, searching for the leader. Deciding it’s not the one that snarls, growls, and goes after me first, I still don’t hesitate to slice my athame straight through his thick, scaly neck—if for no other reason than to send a message to the rest.
His body jerks and twitches in a brief adrenaline-laced jig, before collapsing to the dirt alongside its head.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—” I shake the remaining crud from my blade and position it before me, ready to take the next wave. “The Upper-and Lowerworlds are strictly off-limits. Which means you can either leave now, or deal with me. Your choice.”
They come at me in a wave of tails and horns and oversized monstrous heads, and my athame carves ’em up as easily as a Thanksgiving turkey. Counting each severed bit as a small sign of victory, all the while knowing I probably shouldn’t be enjoying it to the degree that I am.
It’s not like there’s a shortage of evil. There are plenty more where they came from.
Not to mention that somewhere, out there, Coyote is waiting.
I stop with the fancy moves and quips, and concentrate instead on finishing the job. Methodically eliminating them one by one, until the entire nest is eradicated and I follow Eagle to the next one. Then the one after that. And all those that follow. Eventually slaying so many demons, the spirit animals begin to come out of hiding and work alongside me.
A posse of Rabbits, Turtles, Bison, Ram, and Bobcats are soon joined by countless others intent on reclaiming their turf.
Though, once again, Raven is notably absent.
Horse too.
But with so much left to do, I can’t get distracted. I keep a close watch on Eagle as he soars a wide arc before me, just a few feet ahead, signaling another lot of demons lurking nearby. Swooping past my shoulder just as I’m about to close in, he veers so close his feathers graze my cheek like a kiss, before he winks out of sight.
A chill pricks the back of my neck, blankets my skin.
My knees go weak.
As my fingers tremble so severely I nearly drop the athame.
My body instantly acknowledging the truth my mind fights to deny.
Chay.
Another one lost at the Richters’ hands.
I sag toward the ground, staggering under the weight of the loss. So gripped by grief, it’s a moment before I notice the peal of voices shouting close by.
Driven by rage, heartache, and vengeance, I spring to my feet and race toward the noise. Wondering at the spirit animals’ unwillingness to follow, when I burst onto a scene that explains their reluctance.
Even with her back turned toward me, the sight of her gorgeous mane of glistening amber waves spilling down her back, her black leather corset, unearthly translucent skin, and skirt comprised of countless slithering, writhing, live snakes, leave no doubt I’ve crossed paths with the Bone Keeper.
The one who rules the lowest level of the Lowerworld.
The one who presides over the Day of the Dead, collecting the bones of the deceased as admittance to the afterlife.
No wonder the spirit animals prefer to steer clear—she’s as terrifying now as the first day I met her.
“So, the Seeker returns.” Her voice is throaty and deep, as she glances over her shoulder, revealing the beautiful version of her face. The large, black onyx eyes—the lush generous mouth used for swallowing stars. A stunning façade that can instantly shift to a sun-bleached skull with horrible empty sockets standing in for the eyes. “While you’ve done a fine job of demon slaying, don’t get any ideas. Demons serve me no purpose, which is why I left them to you. These ones are mine, you’ll get no part of them.” She gestures toward a large group of Richters who had the misfortune of falling into her trap.
It’s the one commonality we share—the Bone Keeper hates Coyote almost as much as I do. For centuries, their dead have denied her their bones, and the Bone Keeper never forgets what’s owed her.
The ones still alive huddle wide-eyed and terrified, watching as her endless army of snakes sink their fangs into the flesh of the fallen. Painstakingly stripping them of muscle and meat, exposing the bones that she covets.
I gaze upon the lot of them, searching for three in particular. Hoping they’re not among the heap being flayed by the snakes. I have my own torture planned.
“While I’m not here to interfere with . . .” I gaze among the wreckage, looking for the correct way to phrase the horror show she’s directing. “. . . your bone collecting, I feel I should warn you—that one is mine.” I point to the one on my list, leaving no room for doubt who I’ve set my sights on, as I pick my way through countless beds of snakes.
Ready to stake my claim, when the Bone Keeper’s pale bony hand locks hard on my wrist. “I don’t negotiate.” Her eyes blaze on mine.
I place my hand over hers and wrench free of her grip, rubbing the place where her nails nearly broke through my skin. “Funny, that’s not how I remember it.” I glare, recalling the deal we wagered on the Day of the Dead when I got the souls, and she kept the bones. “Not to mention, today is not Dia de los Muertos. You have no claim to them.”
She grins. Her lips stretching wide to reveal a row of glittering teeth, a tongue sprinkled with stardust. The display oddly enticing, until her face transforms into a skull and the illusion is lost. “In case you haven’t noticed, the worlds are merged, Seeker. The old rules no longer apply.”
“A temporary reprieve, that’s soon to be remedied.” I push the words past, speaking with far more confidence than I currently own. “And, as it just so happens, that one is the first step toward making it happen.” I brush past her until I’m standing before him. Enjoying the look of sheer terror on Gabe’s face as I press the tip of my demon-crud-covered athame to the underside of his chin. Admittedly disappointed it’s not Leandro or Cade, though it’s still a good start. “You can have his bones for all I care. But I want to be the one to destroy him.”
“My, my.” The sound of the Bone Keeper giggling is so unnatural, I can’t help but cringe. “Seems the Echo’s not the only one who’s gone dark around here.”
“What do you know about it?” I glance over my shoulder, shifting my focus between her and Gabe.
“Same thing I’ve always known about it. It’s going to be fun to see how this ends. Though probably more so for me than you—I’m pretty sure your luck is about to run out.”
“Luck? You think I’m relying on luck?” Now it’s my turn to laugh, the sound bitter, sarcastic, and not at a
ll satisfying. I return my focus to Gabe, and shove the tip of my blade into his flesh, releasing a bright trail of red. “Luck has no place where duty’s concerned. I’ve trained hard for this moment. I’m merely doing what I was born to do and no more.”
“If you say so,” she muses. “Still, it’s a rare spectacle to watch a Seeker kill a human. That’s Coyote’s game, not yours.”
“Looks like the rules have changed.”
“Have they? Or is that how you justify your rage over all that you’ve lost?”
I glare from over my shoulder. If she wasn’t so formidable, she’d be next on my list. “What do you care?”
“I don’t. It’s all the same to me. In the end, I’ll get your bones too. And, from the looks of things, it won’t be much longer. Speaking of . . . have you seen him? Have you seen the Echo turned beast?” Her jaw lifts. Her cheeks widen. The sound of bone scraping bone as disturbing as nails on a chalkboard—until she heaves a long sigh and her face transforms to the flesh-and-blood version. Her skin as translucent as wax paper, her eyes adopting a lascivious gleam at the memory.
And though I’d like to look away, pretend to ignore it, if she has any idea where Dace is, I need her to tell me. Tightening my hold on Gabe, who, oddly enough makes no attempt to escape, I turn to her and say, “Listen, anything you can tell me about Dace’s whereabouts would be greatly appreciated.”
“I’ll bet.” She returns to watching over her snakes, signaling she has no intention of helping me, so I switch my focus to Gabe.
“You’re done,” I tell him. “Your reign of terror ends here. Now.”
“So hurry up and do it already,” he says, arcing his head back and offering his neck.
Evil Gabe Richter is begging to be delivered?
My knife stills in my hand.
Is this some kind of trick?
I follow his gaze to where the Bone Keeper directs her snakes to drag down another one of his cousins and begin the process of flaying flesh from bone while he’s still breathing.
The sight so disturbing, the agonized screams so wrenching, it’s all I can do to keep it together. I’ve seen some sick stuff in my time, but this is about as bad as it gets. No wonder Gabe prefers to die at my hand.