Fated (37 page)

“Don’t worry about me, I’m stronger than I look. I’ll deal with your mom, while you deal with Cade. And, Daire…” I look at her—see the way her lip trembles, surprising me when she says, “Go kick some Richter ass!”

I lunge toward the wall that’s already closing. Shoving right into it, bat first, pushing so hard it’s like merging into a solid wall of taffy—sticky, gooey, molding around me—until it finally gives way and I burst through, slamming headfirst into one of the demons—the big one who guards the vortex.

We stare at each other, the two of us momentarily stunned, until he growls so loudly it alerts the others to join him.

They surround me, their massive paws and razor-sharp nails swiping at me from all sides, leaving me no choice but to shake the cigarettes loose from the pack, toss them behind me, and bolt.

Glancing over my shoulder to see the demons dive after them, snarling and hissing in an effort to get to them first, I race for the tunnel that leads to the cave. The crash of my boots against the metal trilling too loudly, leaving me with no choice but to ditch them and tiptoe the rest of the way. Careful to keep my breath light, shallow—allowing only the briefest sigh of relief when I reach the end undetected and creep past the entry into a room lit by bright blazing torches. The frenetic lick of flames sparking and flaring in a way that illuminates the ribbons of strung marigolds and beads draped across the walls—the skeletons propped among the furniture with hand-painted skull masks secured to their heads—the usual Day of the Dead décor, but in here the effect is especially chilling.

That strong chemical scent growing in intensity, as I move through the rooms, forcing me to clasp one hand over my face to block out the smell, as the other clutches hard at the bat, and it’s then that I see him.

See them.

The whole lot of them wearing identical black-and-white skull masks with red dripping mouths—waiting for the party to begin.

Coyote sees me first. Ducking his head, he snarls in protest, as Cade stands before an elaborate altar draped with a starched white tablecloth, covered with flaming beeswax candles, decapitated marigold heads, a plate piled high with ornately decorated sugar skull candies, a crystal carafe filled with something resembling red wine but that could just as easily be blood, and at least a hundred black-and-white photos of blank smiling faces strewn along the top. His back turned, arms embracing a glowing metal container that floods the room with a brilliant spectrum of light.

“So you made it,” he says, not bothering to face me. Taking a moment to shush Coyote when he adds, “And just in time too. I knew you’d see the beauty of my plan. And now, because of it, the victory is ours to share.”

The undead Richters make horrible yipping sounds, as Cade turns, his eyes red and glowing behind his own gruesome skull mask that looks a lot like the demon face I know from the dream.

“Smell that?” He tosses his head back, makes a show of inhaling deeply. “It’s the sweet scent of insecticide. Had to spray the whole place. Seems a cockroach managed to sneak his way in just the other day.” His gaze levels on mine, flaring in amusement when he adds, “Wasn’t you, was it?”

I don’t reply. Don’t so much as flinch. I just secure the bat from his view and tighten my grip. Determined to at least give the appearance of holding my own, even though deep down inside, I’m quaking all the way to my toes.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve come. That you’ve decided to join me in a moment so great.” He hugs the container close to his chest. “The second it’s over, we’ll go straight to my father—though don’t be surprised if Leandro doesn’t accept you at first. He may even move in to kill you—but I’ll be right by your side and I won’t let that happen. Besides, once we’ve had a chance to explain it, once he sees for himself just how much we can accomplish by working together, I know he’ll see the brilliance of my plan.” He lifts his shoulders in a way that causes the orb to lift, surging so precariously toward the lip, it’s all I can do to remain rooted in place, to not rush forward and snatch it away. “This is the perfect ending to a ridiculous, primitive feud. It’s also a wonderful beginning to a partnership that’s long overdue. You see, Leandro had it all wrong. Not only did he fail by accidentally conjuring my aberration of a brother—but he failed to understand that the reason we’ve been unable to penetrate the Lowerworld for so long is because our souls have become too dark for admittance. And mine, as I’m sure you know, is the darkest of all.” His eyes flare with pride. “Then again, it’s the pure blackness of my soul that led me to them—the solution.”

He nods toward the gathering of undead Richters—the entire lot of them yipping and yelping with excitement over the meal to come. Their enthusiasm causing Cade to shout, “Silence! Can’t you see that I’m talking? Sheesh!” Shaking his head and returning to me as he says, “So anyway, where were we?”

“Your dark and desolate soul.” I tap the bat against the back of my calf, prepared to use it at the first sign of trouble.

He nods again. “Little does Leandro know, but during last year’s
Día de los Muertos,
I brought them all back. And not just their essence. I actually
raised
them. They’re all Richters—resurrected Richters! I started by feeding them bits of animal souls. I’m telling you, there’s no shortage of worthless pets in this town.” He shakes his head, as though he can hardly believe the nuisance, the folly. “But then, over the last year, I’ve started feeding them human souls. Sometimes taking entire souls—sometimes just prying off little bits. It’s amazing how easy they are to obtain. Some people just hand ’em right over, they have no regard for their lives. Though most have no clue they’ve been taken, and even when they do suspect, they’re usually quick to convince themselves it was merely a nightmare.” His eyes fix on mine, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s referring to my own dream-turned-nightmare. “Anyway, for the record, I learned how to do it all on my own. Leandro refused to teach me the fine art of soul stealing—claimed I wasn’t ready, but I think I’ve proved otherwise.” He pauses as though awaiting my praise, and when it fails to appear, he says, “Oh, don’t look so sorry. It’s not like any of those people were using their souls for anything truly worthy or good. Our cause is much greater. And now, with you on board, it won’t be long before we rule the Middleworld, the Lowerworld, and ultimately the Upperworld too. My dad’s really gonna be proud of me then.” His eyes blaze at the idea, proving once again, he’s a psychopath. “Take off your mask and join me,” he says. “It’s time.”

I shake my head. I don’t take orders from him.

“Take off your ridiculous mask and put down that bat you think I can’t see. We’re a team now. We have to learn to trust each other if we’re going to work together, no?”

I tighten my grip, braced for just about anything. Watching as he shrugs and says, “Fine. Have it your way.” Then, nodding at the metal container, he adds, “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

I gaze at the orb, seeing the way it illuminates the room in a kaleidoscope of color—like a beautiful prism refracting the light.

“Do you see how much power it holds?” His eyes flare as though mesmerized by the sight of it, the thought of it. “Notice the way it shines brighter than all of those other souls you saw last time you were here?”

My fingers start to itch, my body fills with dread.

“You know why that is?” he taunts, willing me to say it.

But I won’t.

Can’t.

There’s no way.

“C’mon, Daire, you’re a smart girl—
think!
Who do you know personally whose soul would shine far brighter than anyone else’s? Who do you know who’s so full of magick, and goodness, and purity, and light—their soul would radiate in precisely this way?”

I move toward him, fingers shaking so badly the bat trembles against them.

“I’m afraid your dear Paloma is not long for this world. Django’s death came with a price, and by the time you came around, it was already too late. I’ve been harvesting little bits all year, and now I have the whole thing. But then, you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve been watching her fade since the moment you arrived. It’s too late to save her—so you may as well make your peace and take this moment to join me. Because I promise you, Daire, if you choose to fight me, I’ll have no choice but to steal your soul too.”

He dips his fingers into the container, then turns toward his undead family, presenting Paloma’s bright and shining soul on a single splayed hand he raises before them. The sight of it causing them to lurch forward, teeth gnashing, bodies lunging, unable to contain their hunger—themselves. Worked into an absolute slobbering frenzy, when Cade glances over his shoulder, wanting to make sure that I see it.

My feet spread wide, I grip the bat tighter. Knowing I have one second to act. One second to stop him.

There are no do-overs here.

“Still time to join me,” he says, sparks shooting from eyeholes surrounded by bright yellow marigolds.

I rush toward him, bat held high, Paloma’s words swirling through my mind:

Do not worry for me. Focus on them—you must stop El Coyote, no matter the cost. I haven’t taught you everything—but I’ve taught you well—and now you must let me go,
nieta
. You cannot, must not, save me—do you understand?

She wants me to crush it.

She knew it would come to this and she wants me to do whatever it takes to stop him. Willing to sacrifice her own eternity in order to spare mankind the horror of the Richters invading the Lowerworld again.

It’s what a Seeker does.

He smiles when he sees me—eyes flaming, teeth gleaming—as I take a deep breath and swing with all of my strength. My gaze never once leaving the orb as I bring the bat down as hard as I can—begging Paloma to forgive me—good-byes were so much easier before I allowed myself to care.

The bat crashes down hard, causing shards of glass to scatter, fly about the room, as it bounces off the altar, sending the table, the candles, the candy, the photos, the carafe with the strange red substance crashing to the ground—as I stare at Cade, breathless and horrified, both of us knowing I just couldn’t do it.

His eyes meeting mine when he hurls the gleaming white orb—my
abuela
’s soul—to the crowd of undead Richters. Shouting in triumph as the largest of the group snatches it from the air and swallows it whole.

forty-nine

Cade’s face is exultant, victorious—having misread the whole thing, he thinks I’ve gone crazy, decided to join him.

The moment holding, growing, until I rid myself of the mask, gaze down at my feet, and see the rug blazing beneath me. The corners of those nameless pictures scorching and curling—recognizing first one face, then another, and suddenly realizing they’re not what I thought.

They’re not pictures of long-dead Richters—they’re pictures of those whose souls have been stolen for Cade’s horrible cause.

He stands before me, hand reaching toward mine as white hot flames lick at his shoes and dance up his sides. The enormity of what I’ve just done looming before me, as I bolt toward the army of undead Richters, chasing the beast that ate my grandmother’s soul. Noting the way it allows him to grow and transform as a wondrous halo of light seeps out all around him—having no idea if it’s too late to save her, but knowing I have to try, have to stop them from invading the Lowerworld, or the whole world will suffer.

My legs spin beneath me, carrying me faster than I ever thought possible. My flight spurred by Cade’s haunting trail of laughter, along with his horrible coyote nipping close at my heels.

I sprint through a long series of rooms—heart pumping too hard, lungs about to burst from my chest. Only a handful of steps yawning between me and them, when they burst through the wall that leads to the desert, and Coyote leaps forward and sinks his fangs into my jeans.

I whirl on him, stare into his glowing red eyes, and give him a swift, hard kick in the snout before he can pounce again. The move stunning him just long enough to allow me to dive through the wall before it snaps shut.

Sand.

I forgot about the sand.

It meanders for miles. And though it’s packed hard, which makes it easier for running, with so many undead Richters ahead of me, it’s not long before I’m sandblasted in their wake.

I trudge forward, eyes squinched against the spray, trying to stay focused on the big one, when they sprint up a hill, only to scale it and drop out of sight—disappearing so quickly my heart leaps into my throat, sure I’ve lost them for good. Only to find myself falling as well—swallowed by a tunnel of sand that ingests me deeper and deeper into the earth.

The Lowerworld.

That’s where I’m going. That’s where they’re going too. Intent on wreaking unspeakable damage—fueled by the power of my grandmother’s soul.

But they’re so far ahead, there’s no way to catch up—no way to stop them from entering.

All I can do is go with the fall—my body tumbling, rolling, getting sucked in so deep I can no longer see. My eyes squeezed tight, lips clamped shut, and yet I’m still inundated with great gobs of sand that slip into my ears, grind between my lips, and spread across my teeth.

It’s horrible.

Unbearable.

I can’t breathe, can’t survive it much longer.

The sound of them flailing before me the only thing that keeps me hanging on—reminding me of my purpose, giving me the incentive to keep going.

My ears filled with the sound of their howling and yelping, so tantalizingly close yet so far away. And the next thing I know, I’m out. Slamming hard against the ground, surrounded by undead Richters sprawled all around me.

I blink. Spit. Jump to my feet and dive for the big one, determined to catch him, to stop him at last. But Paloma’s soul has empowered him and he moves far too fast.

They circle and scatter—zigzagging around him in an effort to confuse. And just as I start to gain ground, they split into several small groups that go several different ways. Leaving me with no choice but to forfeit the majority to get to the one.