The Soul Seekers: Horizon

by Alyson Noel

  I whirl in her direction, watching in confusion as she casts a wide, silvery net over her bounty, calls to her snakes, and flees with her cache of bones rattling behind. Returning to Gabe just as he flips the knife from under his chin, ducks out of my grip, and moves to stand beside Dace.

  REQUIEM

  A seeker must learn to see in the dark, relying on what she knows in her heart.

  PALOMA SANTOS

  THIRTY-FIVE

  DACE

  The sight of Gabe racing toward me as though I’m some kind of savior is funny at best—misguided at worst.

  He would’ve been better off taking his chances with the Bone Keeper.

  Or even the Seeker.

  Though I plan to enlighten him soon.

  “Get her!” he shouts. “She’s right there—ripe for the killing!” He jabs a thumb toward Daire, as though I might’ve missed her.

  As though my newly heightened senses aren’t capable of scenting her, tracking her, intuiting her every inhale and exhale.

  Still, I don’t deny myself the chance to fill my eyes with the sight of her. Soaking in a beauty so radiant, so luminous, she appears lit from within.

  “What the hell are you doing looking at her like some lovesick fool? She’s gonna get away if you don’t do something soon! Leandro warned me to leave her to you, but if you’re not gonna kill her then—”

  “Then, what?” In an instant my hand circles his neck. “Tell me exactly what you plan to do to the Seeker.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” he gasps, features distorted with outrage. “Let me go, you idiot. I’m on your side!”

  “That may be.” I lift him into the air. Lift him so high his feet fumble for stability, his toes strain toward the ground, as his body jerks like a fish on a line. “Thing is, I’m not on yours.” He dangles from my hand—fighting, kicking, screaming bloody murder. Or rather, he would be screaming bloody murder if I hadn’t cut off his air supply.

  I gave them all a head start.

  Encouraged Leandro, Gabe, and Cade to get to Daire first, so she could have the pleasure of slaying them all.

  Imagining how it might feel to watch Raven finally conquering Coyote after all this time.

  It’s a sight I would like to have seen.

  But, it seems plans, like destiny, are subject to change.

  And with the portals swinging wide open and Coyote left completely unchecked, I’ll have to claim this particular kill for my own. But at least Daire can watch.

  I drag Gabe’s face closer to mine, peer into his bloodshot eyes, and loosen my grip just enough for him to remain conscious. Be a shame for him to miss out on last rites.

  “You shouldn’t be surprised to find yourself here. Surely it’s no secret just how much I’ve always despised you. You’re an embarrassment, a misogynist, a thug, annoying as hell, and just so you know, your jokes aren’t funny. Turns out, that’s a bad combination, Gabe. That kind of behavior is no longer tolerated in these parts.”

  “Are you freaking crazy?” Gabe’s eyes bulge in an effort to choke out the words. Guess it’s hard to properly enunciate when your neck is locked in a vise-tight grip.

  “Nope, not crazy.” I tighten my hold. “You’re the one who’s crazy for thinking, even for a second, that we’re on the same side. I don’t belong to Coyote. I don’t belong to anyone. As you’re about to discover, I’m something far worse than your small mind can conjure.”

  The second he digests my words, the bravado that once seemed permanently tattooed on his face is replaced by terror. Seems I’ve finally gotten through.

  “Any last words?” The question is asked merely as a formality. Inside, the beast thrums with anticipation and he won’t be denied for much longer.

  Gabe’s jaw falls slack, his tongue flops around a good bit, but all that comes out is a sick, muffled gurgle I don’t have the patience to even try to decipher.

  The beast hungers.

  Demands to be fed.

  And I am but a humble servant, his to command.

  Sorry, Daire. While I wanted you to have the pleasure of slaying Gabe, the sooner this happens, the better for everyone.

  “You know, I have no idea what you’re trying to say. And, the truth is, I’m not at all interested. Guess this is goodbye, then.” I clench my fingers, watching his eyes fill with dread as his body gives one last amusing attempt to claw at my hands, kick at my knees. A mildly entertaining death dance that ends with a single flick of my wrist.

  His neck snaps.

  His head falls limply to his side.

  And it feels so damn good I do it again.

  Dedicating this kill to Daire, I twist Gabe’s head all the way around until it’s facing the opposite way.

  Inside, my heart swells with accomplishment—a voice shouts in victory.

  We can do this.

  I can help her.

  An essential part of me still exists!

  I warned her away—just in case I was wrong—but now that I’m still in control—I’ll never have to suffer another day without her.

  I can see it as clearly as I can see her standing before me. Daire, me, and the beast—working together to rid the world of Richters!

  It’s the last thing I think before the beast fully awakens and I’m completely overtaken.

  The last thing I speak is her name cried out in agony.

  I’ve lost.

  He’s won.

  Whatever remained of me is now gone.

  Stretching and expanding in size until he’s consumed every last shred of the person I once knew as me, he kicks Gabe’s broken body aside, and centers his sights on the dark-haired girl in the red silk dress standing just a few feet away.

  THIRTY-SIX

  DAIRE

  His glowing red gaze narrows on mine, offering all the proof that I need to know the beast seized control.

  The boy I fell madly in love with—the boy made entirely of goodness and light—has been snuffed by the bloodthirsty creature that glowers before me.

  My hands tremble.

  My knees threaten to fold.

  Overcome by the enormity of all that we’ve lost, along with the harrowing truth that he did this for me.

  Convinced that the darkness was his to control—only to discover too late that fate serves its own agenda.

  Aside from the eyes and the tufts of black feathers beginning to form at the crown, he’s as handsome as ever. Though I can’t be deceived by his looks. The moment he killed Gabe, he became fully initiated.

  Won’t be much longer before the shift is complete.

  Still, I lower my knife, refusing to use it until I’m absolutely sure no part of him exists. As long as the beast continues to breathe—a part of Dace may manage to cling.

  At the sight of me standing defenseless before him, he throws his head back and roars a deep, guttural laugh. But it’s not Dace who mocks me. It’s the beast. Despite how much it may hurt, I remind myself to never forget this.

  “Sure you want to do that, Seeker?” The words are brusque but the tone is lazy, as though he’ll take his time to slay me his way. “Not that I blame you. Knife like that could never save you. I don’t care whose essence it contains.”

  Despite the implied threat, the words give me hope that I’m on the right track. If he truly remembers the day I told him about Valentina’s spirit being sealed on my athame, then clearly a shred of him has managed to survive.

  I flip my hair out of my eyes and lean toward him. Determined to appeal to whatever part of Dace still exists, when the last remaining pin securing my updo is released, and I watch as his eyes lovingly follow the course of curls settling in untidy waves over my shoulders.

  Though the moment he catches me looking, his admiration is replaced with such deeply penetrating menace, it’s all I can do to stay calm.

  “You saw what I did to my cousin,” he growls. “Saw how easy it was.”

  “I watched the whole thing.” I press my knife to my side. “I could
hardly keep from cheering. I hated Gabe too.”

  He cocks his head, curls and uncurls his fingers, as though weighing my words.

  “You did the world a favor, Dace. Heck, you did Marliz a favor. Gabe really was embarrassing, annoying, a total misogynist, a major thug, and his jokes were truly stupid. Good riddance, I say.”

  “And you know what I say?”

  He moves toward me and it’s all I can do not to flee. Repeating to myself over and over that Dace is in there. Somewhere. He has to be.

  “I say you should’ve run when you had the chance.”

  “I won’t run from you, Dace.” I square my shoulders, remain fixed right in place. If I can keep addressing him by his name, it might manage to penetrate. “Not while you’re still in there—and we both know you are. It doesn’t have to be like this, Dace. You can beat this. You can—”

  Before I can finish, his jacket begins to shred at the seams, as impossibly long talons shoot from his fingers and a crown of black feathers fully encircles his head. “Seems the evidence would speak otherwise.” He shrugs, causing the sleeves to fall to the ground just beside him.

  I tighten my grip on the athame, try to follow Chay’s advice and listen to my heart. But with the beast quickly closing the gap between us, any wisdom my heart may contain is drowned by the blare of impending defeat.

  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.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  DAIRE

  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.

  Tree
s 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.