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

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Garth grunted and set the tray down in front of me. “They put you on a feeding tube after a few days—you were wasting away and showing no signs of waking.” I’d frightened him, that much was clear in his voice.

  “Hey . . .” I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m here now, alright?” I grabbed a strip of crispy, thick-sliced bacon and ate half of it in one bite. It was smoky and fatty and crunchy . . . basically heaven in my mouth. “I’m fine,” I said as I chewed, “I promise.” I swallowed, then shoved the rest of the strip of bacon into my mouth.

  Releasing Garth’s hand, I picked up the little pitcher of maple syrup and poured it over the stack of pancakes, all but drowning them. I loaded up the fork with a whopper of a bite and stuffed the sweet, golden goodness into my mouth as soon as it was empty again.

  Realizing Garth was watching me, a serious, almost somber expression on his face, I paused mid-chew. “Oh, um . . .” I smiled as best I could with my mouth full to bursting. “D’you want some?”

  Garth lifted a hand. “No, I’m good. You enjoy yourself.” He raised his eyebrows, a mischievous glint cutting through the sadness in his rich brown eyes. “Should I give you and the pancakes some alone time? Because with the noises you’re making . . .”

  “Shut up,” I said, laughing as I threw a pillow at him.

  Garth dodged it, then moved closer to sit on the edge of the bed beside me, his hip touching my knee. “You died,” he said, taking my left hand in both of his. His thumb rubbed the back of my hand. A hand that, I was glad to see, was no longer misshapen. Looked like someone had taken care of re-breaking and setting the bones while I was out. Sweet.

  “You were gone for nearly fifteen minutes,” Garth said.

  The bite of pancakes became a giant gummy wad too big for me to swallow. Somehow, I managed it anyway. I hadn’t known I’d been out for so long. Had Nik really spent fifteen minutes trying to revive me? I had to commend the guy for his refusal to give up. I touched my breastbone, recalling the searing agony, but felt no pain. Good as new.

  I cleared my throat once more. “I guess I’m lucky.” But, deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. Luck had no part of my miraculous return to the living.

  Everything between my death and the moment I came back to life felt like a dream. I wasn’t sure it had really happened—Isfet, Duat, almost getting sucked into Aaru. Who’s to say it wasn’t just some twisted dream my subconscious made up to fill in the long minutes when I’d been unconscious?

  Except I hadn’t just been unconscious. I’d been dead. Not breathing. No heartbeat. D-E-A-D, dead.

  Which meant everything that happened during my second trip to Duat had been real. Isfet had been real. And she’d given me the mother of all missions. As soon as I was out of bed, I had to dedicate all of my energy to fulfilling my promise to Isfet—first and foremost, figuring out how the hell I was supposed to rescue her from Aaru.

  “Garth, listen, I—”

  “Kat, I think we should—”

  We started and stopped speaking simultaneously, both cutting off with nervous laughter.

  “You talk,” I said, then smiled wryly. “I’ll eat.” I stuffed another bite of pancakes into my mouth.

  Garth inhaled and exhaled deeply, that somberness returning. “I did a lot of thinking while you were out, and, well . . . you’re the most fascinating person I have ever known, and you’re meant for great things.” He broke eye contact, lowering his gaze. “But me—us—that’s not one of them.”

  I set down my fork and became very still.

  Garth took another deep breath. “I want a small life. A safe, comfortable life.” Laughing softly, he shook his head. “I understand now that that will never be enough for you, and that’s okay. Much as I’d like to be, I know I’m not your happy ending.” Finally, his eyes returned to mine. “I hope you can understand where I’m coming from . . . and that there are no hard feelings. I know people say it all the time without meaning it, but I really would like for us to be friends.”

  I was quiet for a moment, chewing on my lip. Then, clearing my throat once more, I nodded. “Thank you,” I said, reaching out to cup his cheek. A moment later, I lowered my hand.

  Garth laughed uncomfortably. “For what?”

  I smiled to myself. He’d given me so much. Taught me so much. In just a few days together, he’d broken down walls I’d been building for almost two decades. He’d changed me, making me a better person. “I couldn’t explain it if I tried,” I told him.

  “Oh.”

  I flashed him another smile. “I don’t mean to change the subject, but, um, I think I’d like to shower,” I said, pushing the tray of barely touched breakfast farther down the bed.

  “Oh, right,” Garth said, standing. “Of course. Do you want help? I can fetch Lex or Aset—”

  “No,” I said, maybe too quickly. What I wanted was a moment alone to work through everything that had happened while I was dead. “I’ll be fine. I just feel . . .” I shimmied my shoulders. “Well, like I haven’t showered in eleven days,” I said, ending with a laugh. A dull throbbing was starting at the base of my skull, and I reached back to rub my neck.

  I picked up a piece of bacon as I stood and faced Garth. “Thanks for the breakfast.” I play-punched his shoulder. “You rock, friend.”

  He stepped closer to me and leaned in, pressing his lips against my forehead. “You are such a weirdo.”

  “Duh,” I said as I leaned into him, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that I was multitasking by munching on the strip of bacon while giving him a hug.

  “Glad you’re back, Kat.”

  I smiled, then pulled away and turned to the bed. “Me too.” I picked up the tray and carried it to the bathroom.

  “Are you taking that into the shower with you?” Garth asked, stifling a laugh.

  I peeked at him over my shoulder. “Don’t judge me. I died.”

  He laughed and shook his head, then made his way to the door. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

  I frowned. He had no idea.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “I’ve thought long and hard about the best way to fight the Senate and their followers,” Heru said, standing behind the chair at the head of the long, mahogany table, his fingers gripping the top of the leather-upholstered chair.

  We’d gathered in the former Council chambers located on the second floor of the Bainbridge house, a remnant from back when the Council of Seven was a thing and my people were ruled by an all-powerful patriarchy. Lately it seemed to have become the war room, where all of our side’s important decisions were discussed and made.

  This was my first time being included in one such discussion, and while I was honored to be there, I was antsy for it to be done. I wanted to check on Robert—or Bobby, as the others had settled on calling him while I was out. The toddler was playing with Reni in her playroom down the hall under Garth’s watchful supervision. Since waking a couple hours ago, I’d only been able to spend a few minutes with him before Heru called this meeting. By the time I returned to the playroom, I figured he’d probably have forgotten who I was entirely.

  “And it is not with weapons and battles that we shall fight them,” Heru continued, “but with knowledge and strategy.” He surveyed the faces of all nine Nejerets seated around the table. “Specifically, one very strategic alliance.”

  “Curious,” Dom said. His standing mirror was positioned on my left side. “He’s usually in favor of more violent, absolute measures . . .”

  I sniffed quietly in response. Speaking out loud would’ve been plain rude.

  Nik sat across from me, his mother on his right and Carlisle, Heru’s go-to guy, at his left. Neffe sat opposite Carlisle, at her father’s right hand, as always. Mari and Mei sat opposite each other, Mari beside Dom, and Mei beside Aset, and Lex occupied the spot at the far end of the table. The room was sealed within a shell of At, ensuring that everything discussed in here would be heard only by the intended ears. />
  “The Senate’s supporters outnumber us four to one,” Heru said. “It pains me to say it, but we must accept that severe pride and vehement anti-humanism is too deep-seated in many of our people’s hearts for any logic or attempts at persuasion otherwise to fall on anything but deaf ears.” His fingers gripped the chairback more tightly, the leather creaking in response. “Our action must be swift and permanent, and above all else, it must take the opposition by absolute surprise.”

  I exchanged a questioning glance with Nik, who was leaning his chair back, balancing on two legs. He gave a minimal shrug. He had no idea where Heru was going with this either.

  “We must forge an alliance,” Heru said, his voice hardening. He wasn’t asking for permission, and his decision wasn’t open for discussion. “We must come out of the shadows.” He scanned each of our faces. “We must, once and for all, reveal ourselves to the humans.”

  My eyes opened wide. Neffe choked on the sip of water she’d just taken, and Nik let his chair fall forward, the front legs making a sharp knock on the hardwood floor. But at the end of the table, the tiniest, tight-lipped smile touched Lex’s mouth, and she bowed her head in agreement.

  “Um . . .” I raised my hand tentatively, and when Heru looked my way, I raised the other in defense. “Not that I’m against this ‘strategy’ or anything, and I’ve only been awake for a couple hours so maybe I’m missing something, but how exactly are we supposed to get people to believe us when we tell them”—and I used air quotes—“‘an immortal race has been living among you for thousands of years . . . oh, and some of us have superpowers!’ I mean, obviously we’d have to tell everyone all over the world all at once for this to be a sneak attack—which alone is a logistics nightmare—but using a video feed leaves us with no way to prove to the humans watching that whatever display of ‘magic’ we show them to prove we’re really what we say we are isn’t just special effects.” A swift survey of everyone’s faces showed considering expressions and a couple frowns, all except for Lex and Heru. “Unless there’s something I’m missing . . .”

  “Valid points, Kat,” Heru said with a slight nod my way. “Luckily, one of Mei’s most loyal subjects”—because Mei, like Heru, had been a Senate member before the war with her own territory, specifically the Rocky Mountain region of these ol’ United States—“is quite the gifted hacker. I’m certain that taking over the PNS feeds for a few minutes and locking all others out shouldn’t be an issue for him.” His statement ended with the uptick of a question, and his stare shifted to Mei.

  She frowned thoughtfully, then nodded. “It seems easily within Liam’s skill set. I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

  Heru nodded his thanks to her, then returned his attention to me. “As for the rest of the world, Tarsi will be streaming a live concert celebrating the recent ‘miracle’—it’s predicted to have record-breaking viewing numbers—and she has agreed to feature the announcement, live, between her two most popular songs.”

  I raised my eyebrows, impressed. Must be nice to have the world’s most famous and beloved superstar as your daughter.

  “And as for the belief issue, well . . .” Heru grinned wolfishly and his golden eyes lit with an assessing intensity that made me feel like he was trying to decide which of my fleshy bits would be tastiest. It was all I could do not to lean away from him. “That’s what you’re here for.”

  “I . . .” I shook my head slowly. “Yeah, you totally lost me there.”

  Heru’s grin shrank to a smug smile, and he picked up a tiny remote and pressed a button. The huge screen on the wall directly behind him turned on, showing a still shot of a PNS news story. The headline on the red bar below the anchorwoman read: GODDESS UPDATE.

  Heru pressed another button on the remote, and the video started to play.

  In the wake of the social media flood of sketches and paintings of the mysterious woman who appeared to nearly every person who recovered from the Cascade Virus, experts from the FBI and CIA have used the influx of information to create official renderings of the woman we’ve all come to know as “the Goddess.” The images have been released, and we’re pleased to have the exclusive reveal.

  An incredibly realistic image filled the screen. It was a digital painting of a kneeling woman, her arms outstretched and her head thrown back, her long, dark hair floating wildly around her head. She was wearing jeans and a black leather coat, and her skin glowed with a multicolored luminescence. Though her face wasn’t visible, there was little doubt in my mind who she was supposed to be.

  As someone who was personally affected by the Cascade Virus, I can personally attest to the striking accuracy of these renderings.

  Another image filled the screen. A face, glowing with that ethereal light. My face.

  My mouth was suddenly a desert. I licked my lips, but my tongue was so dry that it did no good. Swallowing was equally as useless.

  For those of us who experienced the miraculous cure, there’s no doubt in our minds that it was anything other than an act of divine intervention. And to the Goddess, if you are listening, we thank you.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and I clenched my teeth to keep my chin from quivering.

  “In related news,” the anchorwoman continued, but Heru paused the video.

  I was breathing hard, overwhelmed by a bevy of emotions I wasn’t used to feeling. I turned to Dom’s mirror and cleared my throat. “Did you know?”

  He blinked at me with those dark, silvered eyes. But he didn’t say no.

  My nostrils flared, and my skin started to glow with a faint rainbow luminescence. The air around me crackled with charged energy, making my hair float. “You did,” I said breathily, feeling utterly betrayed. I’d been feeling it so often these days I figured it should start to feel normal at some point. I hadn’t reached that point yet.

  I pushed my chair backward and stood. I needed to move, to dispel the magical energy building up around me. “A heads-up would’ve been swell,” I said to nobody in particular as I paced the length of the room. “Now everybody on the fucking planet thinks I’m some kind of—of—of savior.”

  “Aren’t you?” Nik said, voice bland.

  I froze behind my chair and looked at him.

  He, too, stood, his hands planted on the table. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, Kitty Kat, but didn’t you sacrifice yourself to save humanity?” He leaned in. “In what way are you not their savior?”

  “I didn’t want—” I rubbed my hand across my forehead. “I didn’t do it for that—for them to know.” I stared up at the ceiling, shaking my head. “I’m nobody’s savior.” My shoulders slumped. “I just did what had to be done.”

  Seconds of silence filled the room.

  “The Senate may still be recouping from this loss,” Heru finally said, “but do not, for one second, allow yourself to believe that this will be their final attempt to wipe humanity off the earth and claim it as their own.” He inhaled deeply, then held the breath. “Humanity needs you to protect them once more.” Slowly, he made his way toward me. “Show them your face. Let them believe.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “They need you, Kat. We need you. Please.”

  I bowed my head, honored, humbled, and outright stunned by the fact that Heru—high and mighty king of us all, Heru—had said please. To me.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Alright,” I said, raising my head and meeting Heru’s hawkish stare. “I’ll do it.”

  Cassie

  “Cassie! Hurry up!” Melanie dragged Cassie through the crowd toward the stairs that led to the section where their seats were. The stadium was absolutely packed, with thousands of extra seats arranged down on the field where the Seahawks and Sounders usually played.

  It wasn’t that Cassie didn’t want to be there. Like, for reals, what sane teenage girl wouldn’t die to go to the concert of the century? None, that’s who. Not even a tomboy like Cassie.

  The Tarsi Tiff Survivors Tour was almost impossible to get tickets to—
the fact that tickets were only open to CV survivors hardly made a dent in demand—and this was the kickoff concert . . . but Cassie was tired. Keeping the biggest secret in the history of pretty much everything was downright exhausting.

  She wished, desperately, that she didn’t have to hide that she knew exactly who the “Goddess” was, and that she was way cooler and amazing-er and more badass than anybody even knew. Not telling even her best friend, Melanie, was brutal.

  “Hurry up, you goober,” Melanie shouted over her shoulder. “I don’t want to miss the opening song, and ohmygod did you look at the map online? Our seats are killer!”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. She knew exactly how good their seats were. She got the tickets from her brother, who was good friends with the “Goddess”—a.k.a. Kat—and had an in with the one and only Tarsi Tiff through that mind-blowing connection. He was also Cassie and Melanie’s escort and chaperone for the night. He’d dropped them off to park the car, with promises to join them at their seats soon enough.

  “I have no idea how you scored these, but seriously—front row!” Melanie squealed. “I will be your slave for the rest of forever for sharing this a-mazing experience with me!”

  Cassie laughed, unable to not be affected by Melanie’s infectious joy.

  Melanie guided Cassie onto the field and showed their tickets to the attendant.

  The hulk of a dude raised his eyebrows and whistled. “Down to the front,” he said, pointing toward the stage. “Your seats are in the front row, near the center.”

  “Eeeeeee!” Melanie squealed, hopping up and down on both feet. And then she was back to the dragging thing.

  Once they were finally in their seats, Cassie started to get into the excitement. It was all around her; the place practically thrummed with it. And when Tarsi Tiff came out on stage, the crowd exploded, Cassie included.

  “I’d like to welcome you all to the inaugural Survivors Concert!” Tarsi said as she took center stage, her voice booming all around Cassie.