The Soul Seekers: Horizon (27 page)

I take an awkward step back, but the move comes too late. His reflexes now lightning fast, his strength greatly multiplied, he easily catches me by the wrist and squeezes so hard I’m
afraid it might snap.

“All those incessant workouts, all of the magick, and daily six-mile runs, and you’re not even going to try to put up a fight?” He hauls me up against him until my back is
flush to his torso, tightening his grip until my fingers fall limp, the athame drops to his feet, and he kicks it well out of sight long before I can even attempt to summon it back.

“I’m here to fight the enemy, not you. You seem to forget that we share the same goal. We’re both after the Richters and there’s no reason we can’t defeat them
together.”

He laughs, nudges his face against mine. The move releasing a hail of feathers that spill onto my cheek. “I work alone,” he growls, the sound primal and deep. “I’ve no
need for partners.” He runs a finger down the center of my chest, lingering for a moment over the key as though it sparks a distant memory, making him reluctant to proceed.

I suck in a sharp breath, praying I’m right, when he centers a talon as long and sharp as a switchblade right over my heart.

“Unlike you, I don’t rely on knives and blowguns and silly talismans that only work on a whim,” he says. “My body is the only weapon I need. I could kill you in the span
of a heartbeat.”

“That must make you feel very powerful,” I mumble, trying to ignore the increasing numbness spreading the entire length of my arm, and focus instead on the way his finger caresses my
flesh, as though protesting his words.

He drags his nail along my skin while his lips find my ear—his razor-sharp incisors rasping my flesh. “Looks like you’re about to find out.”

I squirm, try to get some blood to flow to my fingers. Instantly regretting it the moment I realize the beast misreads it as fear.

“First you’ll gasp,” he says, spurred by my distress. “Despite my numerous warnings, your denial is so deep you won’t see it coming. Then the blood will begin to
gush from the wound, ruining your pretty red dress. And, not long after, you’ll be forever erased from this world.”

While there’s no doubt he could easily accomplish the task, his touch is soft and sweet, his voice as soothing as a lullaby—completely at odds with his words.

Besides, if he truly meant to kill me, he would’ve done so already.

“Your twin already tried that. Didn’t quite work out like he planned.”

“Maybe so, but this time you’re on your own. No Raven, no elders, no little glowing man to help you. You’re at my mercy now, and trust me, I have none.”

I’m not so sure about that . . .

At the sound of leaves rattling and feet shuffling the beast spins toward the noise, taking me with him. The two of us watching as Leftfoot ducks free of the bushes, his hands raised in
surrender.

“Let her go.” Leftfoot risks a cautious step forward. Stopping just a few feet away, head bowed in offering, he says, “Take me instead.”

“Instead?” The beast laughs, his hot breath hitting my cheek. “Why would I choose when I can just as easily take both of you?”

The talon remains on my chest, but that’s as far as he’ll go. And despite my shooting Leftfoot a look, warning him away, he continues to approach.

“I’m the one who taught you to soul jump. I’m the one who introduced the idea of claiming the darkness. I’m responsible for who you’ve become.”

The beast roars with laughter. “In that case, I’ll be sure to thank you before I kill you. Now, don’t interrupt me again . . .”

He returns his attention to me, at the same time Leftfoot dives for his feet. The move so sudden, so unexpected, I have no time to stop him.

The beast shrieks in outrage, tosses me aside, and goes straight for Leftfoot. But before he can reach him, he falters, stumbles to the ground, and heaves a cry of agonized pain as he fumbles to
his feet. Inadvertently slicing a talon across Leftfoot’s throat before lumbering away with the shaft of an arrow jutting from his left shoulder.

The entire scene unfolding so quickly, I’ve barely made sense of it when Jennika rushes from her hiding place in the bushes with a bow clutched in her hand.

“Why did you shoot him?” I scream, eyes wild as I drop beside Leftfoot and press my hands to his wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

“Are you kidding me, Daire? It’s not like I had any choice—he was going to kill you!” She glares at me, her hatred of the beast/Dace clearly marked on her face.

“No—he wasn’t. If that was the case he would’ve done so already!”

“Yeah, and how do you explain that?” She motions to Leftfoot.

“It was an accident. He lost his balance when you shot him.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“It’s—” I shake my head, seeing no point in arguing. I pull the scarf from her neck. “Here, keep it pressed here.” I place the silk over the wound, and her
hands over the silk, as I get to my feet, start to move away.

“Where are you going?” she cries, her face panicked and pale, eyes wide and terrified as she looks between the old medicine man and me. The two of us helplessly watching the life
force fade from his eyes.

“I’m going after Dace.”

Her eyes meet mine. “You know you have to kill him,” she says. “For God’s sake, Daire—you have no choice.”

I grasp the buckskin pouch at my neck and bid one last plea to my ancestors, begging them to come to Leftfoot’s aid. Then after looping it around Jennika’s neck, I look at her and
say, “I know you’re not a Santos, but you were once deeply loved by one. The power of Django’s Bear resides in this pouch. He’ll come to your aid, but in order for that to
happen, you’ve got to believe.”

She folds her fingers around it, her gaze settling for a moment on Gabe’s lifeless body with the grotesquely twisted head, before she turns to me. “Daire—I’m not joking.
If you don’t do it, I will. You have a duty to protect us—or have you forgotten?”

Though the words are spoken like a question, one look is all it takes to tell me she’s already decided I’ve failed them. That I chose love over duty. That I can’t be trusted to
save them.

I turn away. All too aware that time’s running out. That I need to handle this before someone else decides to complete what Jennika started. I follow the trail of blood and destruction
Dace left in his path.

For something so large, the beast moves lightning fast. And with the Lowerworld plummeting into a state of complete devastation, it gets harder and harder to discern his
tracks.

Trees are toppled. Shrubbery flattened. While once-beautiful flower beds have been crushed by numerous upended boulders and rocks. And with Eagle long gone, combined with Raven’s continued
absence, I’m left to rely on the ring, hoping it will lead me to the Richters where I’m sure to find the beast.

I hold it before me, making a careful study of its glimmering facets, the subtle shifts of hue that seem to change with my escalating anxiety. Trying to get a feel for just who’s
controlling this thing, though, the truth is, there’s no way to know for sure until I put it to use.

Going on the assumption that it’s working for me since it once permitted access to the Rabbit Hole while remaining undetected by Leandro and Cade, I engage in the opposite version of the
hot-and-cold game. Every time the stone grows hot, presumably leading me to safety, I change course until it cools and I’m (presumably) moving toward the enemy. Figuring that, either way,
we’ll end up face to face. I just hope it’s on my terms, my way.

Though after roaming for what feels like miles with still no sign of them, or anyone else for that matter, I’m about to give up and try something else, when the stone grows notably cooler
and I stumble upon a haphazard trail of mutilated demon carcasses bearing damage so severe only a beast could’ve caused it.

With my athame missing, and my buckskin pouch now with Jennika, I’m down to the blowgun still stashed in my boot.

Same blowgun Dace left in my care, making me promise to use it on him.

A thought that’s as inconceivable now as it was then.

Despite what he’s done, I refuse to abandon him.

If he really wanted to kill me, he would’ve done so already.

He could’ve easily crushed my windpipe, spiked a talon straight through my heart. And, as soon as that was done, he could’ve ripped both Leftfoot and Jennika apart.

So what stopped him?

Certainly not Jennika’s dart.

No, Dace is still in there. Exerting whatever control he has left.

Question remains—how much longer can he keep the beast contained?

All along, Dace understood the nature of the beast far better than I did.

Held no illusions to the sort of power it would wield.

Then again, he’s lived with it for much longer than I first realized. Making its debut on New Year’s Eve, when Dace connected with the snakes and convinced them to attack Suriel.
Which, in effect, turned out to be his first kill. The one that served to whet the appetite of what’s grown into an insatiable bloodlust.

With each dark deed, the darkness inside Dace increases. Like fertilizer, feeding and strengthening a beast that’s meant to destroy us.

And now, with Gabe dead, Dace’s initiation into the dark arts is secured. Next time we meet, he’ll be fully transformed.

With a terrain of charred earth underfoot, a blazing red canopy of clouds drooping overhead, and the agonized screams of sprit animals and guides called to battle, I follow the trail of carnage.
Reminded of the story Paloma once told me about the day my father was buried—how the funeral unfolded under a crimson-scorched sky.

Funny to think I may end under similar circumstances.

With the stone nearing the point of freezing, I better my grip on the blowgun and push my legs harder, until I’m sprinting up a grueling trail littered with random switchbacks and bends
that grows increasingly narrow and steep with each passing turn. Ultimately leveling off to a place where the atmosphere thins, the clouds that once drooped overhead now sag below, and the dirt
gives way to a slab of rugged red rock.

I make for the edge of the cliff and peer into the void. The toes of my boots teetering precariously over the ledge, when I realize a moment too late that everything about this scene—the
dress, the ring, the surrounding landscape, even Cade standing behind me—perfectly mimics the dream.

Did he lure me here?

Did he plant the dream in my head?

Or did the ring merely lead me to my destiny and demand it be met?

“Don’t jump!” Cade calls, half serious, half in jest. “Odds are, I won’t save you this time.”

“So, you had the dream too.” I turn to face him. “I’ve always wondered about that.” My gaze roams the length of him, taking in his perfectly groomed
façade—the pristine tux, the freshly shined shoes, the triumphant grin on his face. Three worlds have fallen into a state of absolute devastation, and, as usual, he looks as impeccable
as ever.

But at least I know what happened to Raven.

“Dream? What dream?” His eyes flash. His tongue works the inside of his cheek. As I switch my focus to poor Raven—locked inside a gilded cage, a gleaming tourmaline stone
hanging from a black silk cord at his neck, while Coyote lurks beside him, licking his chops as though he can’t wait to devour him. “Though, now that we’re on the subject, I guess
I should thank you for making
my
biggest dream come true. After all, I’m finally here in the Upperworld, and I couldn’t have done it without you. Told you we make a good team,
and yet, you never seemed to believe me.”

The Upperworld?

That’s where this is?

Though my time there was brief, the surrounding landscape is nothing like I left it. It’s completely unrecognizable. This is even worse than I thought.

“Yes, the Upperworld, Seeker.” He grins, seemingly thrilled by my failure to conceal my shock. “Wasn’t like this when I first made the climb. And though it took some
doing, I must admit, I’m quite satisfied with the results. I like this look a lot better. It was a little too heavy on the sparkle and greenery before. This new landscape is much better
suited to Coyote’s needs.”

Rugged barren mesas, treacherous cliffs, only trace amounts of shrubbery, and absolutely no viable place for the spirit animals and guides to take cover—I can see why Coyote approves.
They’ve never liked a fair fight.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the Richters have tried to breach this place for centuries, millennia actually, but never once had a hope in hell of succeeding until I came along. I
can’t wait for Leandro to acknowledge all I’ve accomplished.” His face glows with the prospect. “I’ve surpassed every Richter who came before me. And the funny thing
was, it was so easy! You and your band of idiots really took to your roles, played it straight by the script. You’ve all done such an amazing job, it’s a shame there’s no one left
among you to appreciate it.” He slaps a hand to his mouth and makes an exaggerated mock-guilty face, as my gut churns in trepidation of what he’ll say next.