The Kat Dubois Chronicles: The Complete Series (Echo World Book 2)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “Why are we stopping?” I asked, glancing at Cassie.

  She brought her mittens up to her mouth and whispered, “We’re almost there.” A secretive little smile touched her mouth. Without a word, she turned and sprinted up the spotty trail, disappearing around the bend. I heard her giggle, followed by a soft, masculine laugh that I knew all too well.

  I lunged into a run.

  Not sure what I was expecting when I rounded the bend. Maybe Nik standing in the mouth of the cave just as I drawn him. Or Nik sitting somewhere in the cave. Anything but what I actually saw when he came into view.

  Nik, the sarcastic, brooding, ancient Nejeret, was spinning Cassie around and around and around, much to the girl’s evident delight. Clearly, they were acquainted. More than. They knew each other well.

  Thoughts tumbled around in my mind until, piece by piece, they fit themselves together. “This is where you were,” I said, feet rooted to the ground.

  Nik slowed his spinning of Cassie and set the girl down on her feet, both of them breathing hard from the happy exertion. Cassie pushed flyaways from her ponytail away from her face. Her cheeks were rosy, her smile was broad, and the worry for her mom had temporarily fled from her eyes.

  “This is where you were,” I repeated, a surprising burst of anger flooding my cheeks with heat. Three years ago, when Nik woke up from his seventeen-year Re-induced coma and disappeared without a word, I’d taken it pretty damn personally. After everything we’d been through together, he was suddenly just gone. By choice.

  I took a step toward him, my hands in fists. “For more than three years, Nik, this is where you were,” I said, accusing and asking at the same time. “Just a stone’s throw away, but you couldn’t even be bothered to let me know you were alright . . . or even alive.” I shook my head.

  Cassie took a few steps backward, hiding partially behind a tree. Nik, however, didn’t move, other than tilting his head to the side, just a little, as he watched me.

  “So, why’d you come back here?” My eyes widened as my heart sank. “To disappear again? To abandon me—the humans—everything? Is that the plan?” If it was, then why hadn’t he just stayed out here? Why had he wedged himself back into my life? Why had he thrown around promises of teamwork, only to smack them away right when I was beginning to trust him again?

  Nik simply stared at me, no hint of whatever he was feeling showing on his face. If he was feeling anything, at all. His eyes remained a cool, icy blue. Hard and emotionless.

  I wanted to punch his stupid expressionless face. “Is that the fucking plan?” I repeated, voice rising.

  Still nothing from Nik.

  Laughing bitterly, I shook my head and looked skyward, like the universe might commiserate with me. I felt like I’d been duped. Like we both had, me and the universe, because it had guided me to him so many times over the past few weeks. The universe thought we were supposed to work together, and I had too. But I’d been a fool. Trusting him again had been a mistake.

  “I can’t believe you,” I said, still shaking my head. “I should’ve known better.” My palm itched, and I rubbed it against my jeans as I looked at Nik, but I could only handle maintaining eye contact with him for a few seconds before the urge to punch him threatened to overtake my self-control. I glanced away, jaw clenched. “I did know better.”

  Never again.

  Chapter Eight

  I blinked and stared down at my palm—my itching, burning palm—the Eye of Horus tattoo staring right back at me. “What the—” I sucked in a breath in understanding. The protective ward had been activated. It was warning me . . . but of what?

  I lowered my hand and refocused on Nik. His stance was tense, wary, his expression one of annoyance.

  Him—the Eye of Horus was warning me about him, just like it had warned me about Mari back on Harbor Island.

  I swallowed roughly, barely able to believe what was happening. “Yes or no, Nik—are you backing out of our deal?” I took a step toward him, then another. And then I forced my feet to stop moving, inhaling and exhaling deeply through my nose. If I got close enough to him, I wouldn’t just be throwing words.

  “I can’t do this right now, Kat.”

  I flinched, my stupid feelings stinging from the dismissal like it was a verbal slap. “Now is the only time to do it, Nik. Now is the time that people are dying. They’re dropping like flies, and it’s all because of us.” I growled under my breath, not fully believing this was really happening. “For fuck’s sake, Nik, this whole save-the-humans plan was your idea.”

  Nik glanced away lazily, then started wandering back toward the cave. “There’s more going on here than our little war, Kat. There’s something bigger. Just let it go.”

  “Let it go?” I jutted out my jaw, tears of frustration burning in my eyes, and stared up through the tree branches at the overcast sky. I fought the urge to scream as I struggled to come up with some reason—any reason—for Nik’s drastic change of tune. All I could think was that he’d been playing me the whole time. That he’d never planned on saving anyone. That I’d been duped.

  But still, I pressed on. I had to at least try to convince him to work with me. There was no one else. “Millions, Nik, maybe billions of people are going to die because of ‘our little war.’ What could possibly be bigger than that?”

  “The fate of the universe.”

  I scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? That if we start transforming people, the universe is doomed?” I ended the question with a mocking laugh.

  “Actually,” Nik said, “yeah, that’s about right.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure . . .”

  Nik was in the cave now, standing in the mouth, silhouetted by darkness. I was struck by the realization that this was the image I’d drawn, not the way I found him with Cassie, laughing and spinning. This was the moment that mattered.

  “Believe me or not, Kat, but that’s the truth,” he said. “I don’t know how it happened, and I sure as hell don’t like it, but I can hear Re again, and he’s warned me that—”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Nik, are you kidding me? You can ‘hear Re again’? No!” I stomped a boot into the mulchy ground for emphasis. “It’s all in your head,” I said, tapping the side of my own skull with my index and middle fingers. Nik was messed up from sharing his mind and body with Re for so long. He’d admitted himself that he’d been struggling from the sudden switch from two consciousnesses to one.

  “Believe what you want, but you’re on your own.”

  I guffawed. And then I snapped my mouth shut, eyes narrowing. “This is just a cover story, isn’t it?” I finally worked up the nerve to ask the thing I’d been fearing all along. “You never planned to go through with it, did you?”

  Nik raised his eyebrows, like he was surprised. But at what? At how far off base I was? Or that I’d sniffed out his deceit?

  “I never trusted him,” Dom said, his words whispering through my mind. “For all we know, he could be in league with the Senate.”

  The Senate? That nauseating possibility hadn’t occurred to me. Had he been dragging me along, tossing red herrings out to keep me from the truth? Had everything been a lie? Was this whole “Re” thing just a way for him to save face?

  I inhaled deeply, sucking on the question I needed to ask but really didn’t want to. “Are you working with the Senate?”

  Nik was quiet for a moment. “If I were, would that finally convince you to drop this?”

  Gut punch. I was suddenly light-headed, floating along in what had to be a dream. A nightmare.

  “I’m sorry, Kitty Kat. I never wanted this.” Nik raised his hand, almost like he was waving goodbye. “I never wanted to hurt you.” A sheet of At, crystalline and unbreakable, spread out from his palm, covering the mouth of the cave. He’d locked me out with a blockade stronger and more permanent than anything any human could ever build. Not even At could break At, so hacking at it with my sword would be utterly pointless. He really wa
s going to let all those people die.

  “Bastard,” I breathed, glaring at him through that opalescent wall. “Traitorous, cowardly fucking bastard.” I knew he could hear me through the At; it was a perk of his gift.

  Enraged, I marched toward that otherworldly wall, aware of Cassie hiding in the forest nearby—aware of another presence just beyond her—but at the moment, neither mattered as much as Nik and what he’d just done. What he wouldn’t do.

  “I warned you about—”

  “Do not give me an ‘I told you so’ right now, Dom,” I snapped as I approached the barrier.

  Remotely, I noticed a strange feeling in the air, almost like it was charged with static electricity.

  “Give me the ba,” I demanded when I reached the wall of At. I raised my fist, drew my arm back. “Give it to me!” I shouted, and slammed my fist into the At.

  It happened almost in slow motion, as though my fist was moving through something more viscous than air. As though time needed just a moment, a breather, to catch up with this momentous event.

  A millisecond before my knuckles touched the At, energy crackled around me. Through me. I felt every single hair on my body stand on end, brought to attention by this foreign, alien energy. This magic. I was tapping into something new, some powerful force I’d never experienced before. It felt similar to the surge of energy that happened every time I created a gateway. Similar, but so very different. And so very much more.

  The moment my knuckles touched the At, even as my bones cracked and crunched with the force of the impact, even as pain shattered all coherent thought in my mind, the wall of At fractured like a windshield struck by a rock.

  I stumbled backward a few steps, hugging my hand to my chest as I stared on in awe.

  The cracks in the wall of At spread until they were everywhere. For a moment, the wall stubbornly held its shape. But just for a moment.

  I held my breath as the pieces crumbled to the ground.

  “How—” Nik stared at me, eyes wide with shock, and shook his head. “How did you do that?”

  I swallowed, then cleared my throat. “I have no idea.”

  Chapter Nine

  I blinked, one of those slo-mo, life-rushing-before-your-eyes blinks, and in that brief moment, realization struck, a lightning bolt transforming shock into awe. I’d broken through Nik’s wall of At. I—me, Kat Dubois, the chick who’s sheut allows her to do weird shit like make and read magical tarot cards and draw gateways to other places—broke through Nik’s wall.

  I shouldn’t have been able to do it. Never before had I shown any signs that my sheut allowed me to control At. But that’s the tricky thing about sheuts . . . they evolve. They change and strengthen and grow. They become more, especially if pushed. And, yeah, I’d say I just pushed my sheut pretty damn hard . . . hard enough to shatter several bones in my hand.

  I met Nik’s astonished stare. His eyes were opened so wide that the entirety of his pale blue irises was visible.

  Ever so slowly, my lips spread into a grin. Nik didn’t want to help me help the humans—fine. Turned out I didn’t need him anymore anyway. He could go off soul searching or panda watching or become a monk for all I cared. Perfect. All I needed from him was the ba fragment he’d been carrying around in that orb of At. Once he handed it over, we’d be square. I’d grin and wave and wish him good luck with the voices in his head or the Senate or whatever. I’d wash my hands of him, once and for all.

  I glanced over my shoulder to check on Cassie. She was peeking out from behind that tree trunk. I gave the woods a quick scan, but there was no sign of the other presence I’d sensed just moments ago, and I chalked it up to the innocent curiosity of a forest creature. This was a forest, after all.

  Since the kid was safe enough, I refocused on Nik. I held out my right hand, palm up, my throbbing left hand still clutched to my chest. “Give me the orb.”

  Nik’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Now,” I demanded.

  But still, Nik didn’t make a motion to hand anything over. He remained silent, staring at me. He didn’t even blink. There was a faint tinge of panic in his eyes. Good, I could work with that.

  “Give. Me. The. Orb,” I said, lowering my mangled hand and reaching over my shoulder to wrap the fingers of my good hand around the hilt of my sword. I drew Mercy in one smooth motion, the At blade singing out in melodic warning. I’d never drawn her on her maker. It was surprisingly easy.

  A slight twitch under Nik’s right eye was his only reaction.

  I altered my stance, moving one foot back and bending my knees, preparing to strike if necessary. “Either give it to me, or I’ll take it.” I raised the sword. “Your choice.” I couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine why he would refuse.

  Nik’s expression relaxed, opening up, and for a moment, he was the Nik I knew. Or thought I knew. For that single second, I thought he was going to give me the orb.

  But when he unfolded his arms and set his jaw, the chill in his eyes warned me he was preparing for a fight.

  I pressed my lips together, huffing out a breath through my nose. I’m far from patient on my best days, and this wasn’t even close to a good day. My irritation scale was sky-high. If Nik wanted to fight—fine, we could fight. In my present mood, it was just what I needed.

  The corner of Nik’s mouth lifted in a cruel smirk. “You can’t beat me, Kitty Kat.”

  “Try me,” I said through gritted teeth. Adrenaline surged within my veins, heightening my awareness and dulling the pain from my broken hand.

  Without warning—though far from unexpected—vines of shimmering At shot out of both of Nik’s hands.

  Behind me, Cassie gasped. From the sound of it, she’d snuck closer, but I could hear her hasty footsteps on the soggy earth as she retreated again.

  One of the vines of At wrapped around my sword wrist, the other around my waist, effectively immobilizing me.

  Nik straightened out of his attack pose. “I win. Now drop it, Kat. Don’t make me hurt you.” But he already had, and the pain was far deeper than anything physical could ever be.

  Glaring at him, I concentrated on the otherworldly bindings. I pulled all of the hurt inward—the anger and betrayal, the disappointment—letting it pool within my sheut. Letting it stoke my rage, fuel my desire to win. To beat him so I could follow through on my promise to save Charlene. Help me, I called silently, beseeching the universe. I need this.

  Between one second and the next, a burst of electric energy rushed through my sheut, and the air around me crackled with unspent power. The At restraints sizzled, blackening as they wilted away from me.

  I grinned, a wicked surge of pleasure replacing the receding magic. For once, Nik and I would be fighting on an even playing field. The prospect exhilarated me.

  I tutted Nik, mocking him. “Looks like somebody’s going to have to play fair this time.” I let out a harsh laugh. “Guess we’ll find out how good you really are.”

  “Good enough, I’m sure,” Nik said, a crystalline longsword appearing in his left hand, a dagger in his right.

  The time for talk was over. I struck first, lunging forward, then spinning away when Nik deflected my blade. I used the momentum to launch a butterfly kick—a ballsy move when going up against an opponent with two blades in play. Which was precisely why I did it; Nik would never expect it.

  He lashed out awkwardly with his At sword as he ducked.

  I blocked the strike with Mercy’s equally unbreakable blade, having predicted his defensive maneuver before my feet even left the ground. As I twisted in midair, I drew the tiny push dagger hidden in my belt buckle and swiped at Nik’s thigh. My left hand was weak and the movement hurt like a bitch, but I managed it, and the pain was so worth the result. The one-inch blade sliced through Nik’s jeans and bit into flesh, the tip scraping against bone.

  He hissed in pain, stumbling back a few steps, his blades raised defensively. For the second time that afternoon, sh
ock lit his pale blue eyes. This wasn’t like our little sparring match back in the shop, when he’d first sauntered back into my life. This wasn’t just a way to blow off some steam. Blood had been drawn. This was real. Possibly the most real any fight had ever been for him. But not for me.

  “The orb, Nik,” I said, breathing hard. “Just give it to me. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  Nik’s face was tense from the fresh pain. “I can’t! Re told me—”

  “Oh, so we’re back to Re,” I said, laughing in disbelief. “Which is it, Nik—voices in your head or working for the Senate?”

  “The Senate—” He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I just told you that so you’d let this go. I thought maybe it would give you something else to focus on . . . something besides the virus. I had no idea you’d be able to get through my barrier.”

  Insulted by his flip-flopping stories, I snorted. “Show me some proof that Re’s really talking to you, and I’ll believe you,” I told him, knowing full well that such a thing was near impossible.

  “I can’t—” Again, Nik shook his head. “Re’s here,” he said, tapping his temple. “It feels so real . . . it has to be real. And he won’t shut up about you . . . about you ruining everything again. About you destroying the universe.”

  “Come on, Nik. We can’t give up on humanity just because of a voice in your head that feels real.” The spike of adrenaline was wearing off, and the sharp ache in my hand was slightly nauseating. My sword arm drooped. “You’ve been through some crazy shit.” A few millennia’s worth, actually. “Maybe this is just like PTSD or—or, I don’t know . . . something. Maybe your subconscious is struggling with the fact that even if we try, we won’t be able to save everyone. I’m not a psychologist, and I’ve never had the strongest moral compass, but I know that letting all of those people die is the wrong thing to do. We have to do what we can to help them, Nik. I have to.”