The entire western skyline roiled and seethed—a dark mass waiting to swallow anything in its path.
I calculated the radius as best I could. Tens of thousands of people were in imminent danger. The fallout would deaden the land and foul the water, making it inhospitable.
The Dust Bowl was, according to our history books, caused by intense drought and extreme conditions. I’d read more than one account of that time period in the old, battered books my mother owned. Those histories were written by the Native Americans who’d lived in the Oklahoma region during that period. One book claimed the mass exodus from once fertile farmland was much more disturbing—and in line with what I’d seen in the last two days. The gods’ battles had spilled over onto the land, destroying the very resource they strove to rule.
I stepped forward as Coyote rode the crest of debris. It ripped upward, coating the sky in blackness. A big gash on his chest dripped ch’ich. While not fatal, this was the second time he’d been injured messing with me.
A sign along the highway hung off one of its metal poles, swinging back and forth. A huge gust of wind whipped the metal from the pole, sending it flying away from the storm.
I stood there, a tiny speck against the vastness of the storm. I threw back my shoulders and raised my chin. My aunt Flor used to tell me de ilusión también se vive. “Also of hope and aspiration do we live.”
That’s really all I had left.
The ground beneath me vibrated as the storm approached. The first grains of sand hammered my skin, thin lines of blood oozed over my knuckles. I clenched my fists, more determined to do what I could to stop Coyote.
Then I saw her.
My mother was in front of the storm. Her mouth stretched taut in a silent scream. Pain radiated from her, undulating into the ground, ripping the sand and little bits of vegetation from the earth, forcing everything upward in a tidal wave of destruction.
My mother powered the storm.
Coyote had found the worst possible vengeance: Mom loved the land, loved its beauty and fragility. When my mom was upset, she’d go outside and sit in the flowerbed, wedging herself between the butterfly bush and her huge white lilies, their heads dipping and swaying protectively around her. Our house was filled with flora—we even had succulents in the narrow two-foot strip between our house and the neighbor’s.
Now she was forced to witness the destruction of the land she’d always loved. She tried to turn her face away and shut her eyes, but one of the kachina that Layla had fought earlier forced her face forward.
As much as I wanted to rush in, I couldn’t attack everything, from every angle.
I confirmed Jaguar wasn’t there. Good. He better stay dead. So dead.
The wind rallied. I breathed in the grit, making my nose burn.
My mother’s body began to bow under the pressure. I had to get rid of the kachina. Save my mother.
I wrapped my fingers around my necklace. An idea bubbled up, full-formed and perfect.
“Spirits,” I whispered.
Right here. I felt frigid fingers clasp my shoulder, and I didn’t care that the touch was as cold as a February dawn. Warmth spread through my chest at their continued presence. These ghosts chose to stay near, chose to help me, despite my screwups.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. They waited, their patience immeasurable. “Do you think other spirits here, on this plane, in this time would come help me?”
“Call them. Ask.”
“Er. How?”
Coyote snarled and leapt forward, powering a thick wedge of his sandstorm to lurch into place behind him. He reappeared next to my mother, his warriors in a line behind his huge figure and my mom’s diminutive one. His fingers tangled in her hair as he forced her arms upward over her head. She screamed.
“Stop fighting me, woman!” Coyote bellowed. Me or my mom? She wasn’t fighting very hard. Not with her shoulders dislocated.
My stomach rolled and the spirits behind me murmured, anger building in their voices. Their rage swirled around me, fueling my own.
“I won’t,” Mom whispered. The pain had to be intense, yet she was still awake, still fighting.
“Sotuk promised me the Fourth World. He lied. Call him. Bring your consort here. A god so powerful should fight his own battle.”
Mom’s eyes were fierce, the copper glowing in her pallid skin. “No. I don’t want him to come.”
“Because you realize you mean nothing to him. Then you’re of no use,” Coyote said, dropping her.
She shuddered as the storm crashed over her. With no way to catch herself, Mom slammed against the dirt, her cheek taking the brunt of the fall just before she was swallowed by the avalanche of sand.
My mother’s prayers to my father, all those years of protecting his tablet, his daughter, had led her to this moment. I stumbled back, tears burning in my eyes. I couldn’t do this.
The smell of ozone bit at my nose. Something large and empty tugged at my left, lifting my hair from my nape. Over the din of the fight, I heard the distinctive shhhiiiing of a blade as someone pulled it from a leather scabbard.
Zeke.
The tightness around my heart eased a little. He was here. He’d come just as he’d promised, when I needed him most.
“I told you to lay low, stay out of trouble.” His voice was strong and sure, his eyes never leaving Coyote.
Maybe Layla was wrong and Zeke did care about me more than he liked killing the demons he’d fought for so long. Now wasn’t the time; I tucked my burgeoning hope away for later.
“My mom,” I said. “She’s in there.”
I didn’t know how much more to say, but Zeke seemed to understand.
“Get her.”
I braved the fury of the winds as they wrapped around me and scratched my flesh. The grit filled my nose and burned my eyes. I couldn’t see her.
I wouldn’t last in here long.
Four more steps, and I nearly fell over her. She’d rolled onto her back and her eyes were bulging. Her mouth was open. Her neck strained. She was fighting, but she was pale and her eyes lacked their normal coppery effervescence.
I caught her under her arm and pulled. Her body bowed under the strain of her dislocated joints. The pain had to be unbearable, but I wasn’t strong enough to pick her up and I wasn’t sure that would be any better.
My breath was labored as my lungs rejected the dirty air; I tugged and pulled, inching backward out of the storm.
Zeke stepped in to meet a kachina I hadn’t seen. He slashed it with his sword before stabbing the demon through the gut with his spear. Zeke bought me the time to pull my mom another few feet.
My muscles twitched and my lungs spasmed, begging for clean air. I was too deep into the storm—something I had no way to control or alter.
I couldn’t stop this storm. The waves of energy were too strong, and they’d continue long after the original energy source dissipated. I held my mother close, feeling the heat leach from her skin.
I’d never felt so helpless. I closed my eyes. I felt Zeke’s hand on my head, just a quick touch. I wanted to lean against him and stop trying.
Where’s the badass who took down Jaguar? He’s playing your emotions against you. Don’t let him.
Zeke was right.
My desires were split. I wanted to save my mother more than I wanted to stop the storm. Stop Coyote.
Coyote counted on me to choose my mother, which is why she was displayed so prominently.
“That’s right, Echo. He doesn’t know how smart you are. Use that against him.”
“Mama,” I whispered.
“Mi’jita, if you let me go, Coyote doesn’t get my magic. I give it to you instead. My last gift.”
Behind my closed lids, I saw her: her soul, the part of her that Coyote wanted to own, and if he completely broke her body, he would.
“I’ve already given up that mortal manifestation, mi vida. That’s why you can hear me now. Soon, Coyote will realize this.”
“I was never your responsibility,” she told me. “But you were mine. I should have trusted you more. I wasn’t strong enough to be what you deserved. Trust in Zeke, as I did not. He’s your best chance.”
I grabbed her spectral fingers. Her hands were so cold, like my spirits. I gasped against the chill. “You loved me. I knew that. And I love you, Mom.”
She smiled. That soft, perfect smile I’d miss so much.
“Ah, Echo, you’ve become an amazing woman.”
My lip trembled, but I forced down my emotions. “Go. Please. Now. So Coyote can’t take you from me again.”
“I am so proud to be your mother. I’m part of you. Forever. As is the rest of your family. Seek out Sotuk. He has the answers you need.”
My mother’s coppery essence slid over my skin. The sensation was cold and hot all at once, like sitting in a hot tub in a blizzard.
I felt her, next to my heart. She was warm, strength in her love. But it wasn’t my mom—it was her magic, a separate entity that would never speak to me, offer advice and comfort.
Because my mom was dead. The copper color faded from her eyes; beneath, they were a soft amber. The original color was beautiful, but without her normal vivacity.
Fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. I stumbled along, finally gulping greedily at the clean air. Zeke dropped my arm and stood next to me, his spear in his left hand. He pulled his sword from its sheath again and crouched, studying the storm. It surrounded us now. Soon, the edges would creep in and overtake us, too.
“You have to work your spirits,” Zeke said. “You called them up, but you need to tell them what you want. Lead them, Echo.”
My throat tightened. “I’m not a strategist. I’m not even a fighter.”
Honani pressed close to my side.
“Water means life. There is a reason you control it. Masau, the god of the dead, created water jugs to give to his people,” he said. “Do you understand what that means?”
“Not really,” I sighed. “But a magic water jug would be useful now.”
“We believe in a cycle, a circle that forms life, death, never-ending. Coyote takes from the earth. He returns nothing. There is no balance in his assault.”
Balance. My mom harped on it. Zeke had mentioned it; so had Layla.
Coyote had been too ambitious, trying to control the past through the sipapus that led to the land of death, and the future through the clay tablets Sotuk had left for his chosen people. Chaos bred more chaos, but no one could live a successful, peaceful life that way.
Under Coyote, life on Earth was destined to fail. Sotuk refused to give Coyote that much control over the people. Coyote, trickster, leader of chaos—the last of the gods capable of the responsibility.
I was fighting the battle my father started the moment he let his people take ownership of his tablets. Sotuk foretold further deterioration for mankind if they chose to ignore his lessons. But he also promised the failure of crops, the dying off of bees, livestock—making our resources scarcer.
Sotuk’s choice also came full circle. Or maybe not.
A kachina jumped forward, his spear leveled at me. I was still in shock from my revelations.
“Move,” Zeke shouted. His arm propelled me backward, away from the advancing warrior.
Zeke met the weapon with his own, shoving the demon backward with sheer strength.
“Focus,” I whispered. A plan. I needed one. Now. Something to do with water, with returning the balance.
“Sotuk’s people,” I began, feeling exposed. Silly. “My people.” I breathed. My pendant heated. My muscles relaxed. That was right. My people. “I could use your help. Please.”
The silence after my request resonated through me, building under my feet, spreading inward like a vacuum pulling all the air from a space. It built, growing, pressing against me, against the storm and Coyote and his warriors.
My ears popped as space bent around me. Voices, thousands of them, rose in dismay as they saw Coyote’s destruction. Destruction stopped life—and only water healed these terrible scars.
This part of New Mexico had been an ocean thousands of years ago. While my spirits weren’t old enough to remember that time, many lived here when springs and swamps still dotted the landscape.
And I was Water.
Still, I couldn’t fight something this large alone. I needed those memories. I needed the collective afternoon rainstorms. I needed to remember my mom sitting with her flowers, sliding the blossoms next to my ear.
When I was fifteen, dancing in the rain. Arms raised, twirling in time with the thunder. Zeke was there, just out of reach, watching me revel in the sheer joy of life-giving rain.
He’d been there. Always. Protecting me.
As he did now.
“We have one chance,” I told them, still facing the storm. “We need water. Lots of water. From the sky, from the ground. From your memories. Go back—as far as people populated this land. We must balance the destruction.”
The spirits pressed against my back, their voices raised in a chorus of agreement.
Zeke’s blade flashed against a break in the blackness, fighting back the demons we all face in some form. He’d keep me safe as long as he could.
Sand, juniper, and cacti flew through the air.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
Raindrops hit my face, forcing the dust back to the earth, cleansing the dryness from the air, soothing my tortured skin. Coyote paused, sniffing the air.
Zeke moved in front of me. He twisted as a huge beast launched itself forward, trying to tackle him. Slamming his spear into its side, he turned to slice through another that ran by.
The spirits behind me chanted for rain. The song was old and their voices were clear and sweet.
The clouds shifted, and moonlight poured through the mass of Coyote’s clouds for a moment before they were obliterated by thicker rain clouds.
Hope sang through my veins. Thunder ripped through the sky. The few remaining demons moaned as water poured from the sky—as improbable as a full Santa Fe River tumbling from the Sangre de Cristos each spring; the mighty Rio Grande after a rare week of rains.
The deep-seated panic I’d always felt when I was near water receded. That wasn’t real—it was the remnants of my mother’s magic.
The spirits sang louder.
The torrent thickened so much between one breath and the next, Zeke became a hazy outline. I laughed, spreading my arms wide. I twirled in a circle, opening my mouth and letting the cool water slide across my tongue.
Huge raindrops hammered into my skull. The water pooled in low pockets, forming thick puddles.
Coyote slammed into Zeke, his tawny eyes focused on me. Zeke, who was battling two other kachina, stumbled. One of the kachina leapt forward, and I held my breath. We were so close to winning this. I urged Zeke to raise his spear. The other kachina shifted into a better position, his human hand clutching a spear similar to Zeke’s.
“No,” I whispered. “Zeke, I need you.”
Something enormous and cold swept around me, meeting the demon’s attack. My spirits. They blocked Zeke from my view. My heart hammered. That strike had been imminent, deadly.
Coyote clawed at the spectral bodies as they spun into a funnel. They screamed in agony.
“Leave! Please. Don’t let him hurt you.”
They hesitated, unwilling to leave me alone.
“This is between Coyote and me,” I said as much for Coyote’s benefit as for my spirits’.
“It is our water that destroys the storm,” Honani said. “We cannot leave.”
I faced the god as rain dripped from my face, trickling down my nose and from my lashes.
Coyote whipped his fist around, and I sidestepped. But his knuckles still glanced over my cheek. Pain exploded there.
“No holding back,” I murmured against the exhaustion. I’d give as much as it took—ev
en my life—to stop Coyote’s chaos and destruction, to right the wrong I’d unintentionally caused.
This was what Coyote hadn’t yet realized—what Sotuk and my mom hoped I’d learn from their sacrifices. Only through selflessness did one gain real power.
“You can’t fight chaos, Echo Ruiz. It surrounds you, bombards you, wears down your defenses. I always win. Sotuk didn’t understand my power. But he will learn.”
Coyote slammed into my body. The bones in my leg groaned under the immense pressure of his blow, but I managed to roll away from him. I hopped back to my feet, the adrenaline keeping the pain at bay.
“You made a mistake,” I said as I landed in a deep puddle, the wet sand beneath the water ripping at my skin. “You couldn’t break the relic and release its magic because you weren’t its creator. I am, through my father. He created Earth. Water. Air. Fire. You. Me. All of this.”
“He cares nothing for you. He doesn’t return to protect you even now,” Coyote snarled, circling. He wanted to toy with me, make sure I was as broken as my mother was before he killed me.
Fine.
“You shouldn’t have let me in that close. She’d made plans.” Plans so I’d have the water now lapping over Coyote’s shins. He hadn’t yet realized he stood in a depression. I kept talking as the hole filled, frothing at his knees. More. I needed more rain. Faster. I pushed closer as my spirits moved behind my back, their rain mixing with mine. All the water slammed into Coyote.
The water in the pool was at his waist. If I fell in, it’d be too deep for me to stand.
“She’d had a contingency plan for years. She powered the storm as long as she did because she knew I would’ve traded the tablet for her. She knew me. They planned better than you.”
Coyote aimed for my cheek again, but he missed. I rolled forward into the pool, barely able to keep my face out of the rising water, and kicked him in the knee as I asked the spirits to pull the water up behind it. His leg buckled and he fell toward me. He landed in the water, floundering as it curled and gushed around him.
The rain poured over us, obliterating everything else from view. Its life force pulsed each time a drop slammed into my body, but I also felt its urgency, its rising power, and thirst to coalesce into a raging river. One that would carry away anything in its path.
The Spirit Seducer (The Echo Series Book 1) Page 18