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

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Anapa didn’t say anything for a long time. He just sat there, breathing slowly and staring at me. He didn’t even blink. I was about to launch into begging mode when he said, “Very well, Katarina, I will assist you in this.”

  I opened my mouth but shut it without saying anything. I didn’t want to risk accidentally talking him out of helping me.

  Anapa pushed back his chair and stood, then approached me. He raised a hand, reaching for my head.

  I took a step back, eyebrows drawn together.

  “What is the matter?”

  Eyes locked with his, I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  Anapa touched the first two fingertips of his right hand to my forehead, and I felt a surge from deep within my sheut. “Imagine how you would like to look,” he said. “Hold that image firm in your mind.”

  I did as instructed, picturing the blonde teenage girl I’d seen reflected in the mirror in my dream the previous night. An oily energy washed over me, slipping over my skin and conforming to my shape. I could feel it changing me.

  Anapa withdrew his hand a moment later. “It is done.”

  Not quite believing him, I retreated several steps into the kitchen and looked at my weak reflection in the microwave door. Sure enough, the blonde, blue-eyed teenage girl from my dream stared back at me.

  It was a bit of a shock, seeing another face reflected where mine should have been. A shock, but also surprisingly exhilarating. That girl staring back at me was nobody. She could walk down the street, and not a single person would notice her. She could live her life unbothered. She could live her life.

  “Did you feel what I did?” Anapa asked. “Do you think you can do it yourself?”

  I nodded, mesmerized by my reflection.

  “To reverse it, simply pull the energy into your sheut and picture yourself the way you truly are.”

  Again, I nodded. “Thank you,” I breathed.

  “You are welcome, Katarina,” Anapa said. “Be well . . . and be careful. The path you walk is not an easy one.”

  I frowned at my reflection. What did that mean? “Anapa, wait—” I managed to tear my eyes from the microwave door, but when I looked at the place where he’d been standing, he was gone.

  I could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Nik wouldn’t be out for a few minutes yet.

  Making a split-second decision, I raced to the closet housing the washer and dryer and yanked the door open. I pulled my half-dry clothes out of the dryer and put them on, not caring that they were still damp. I grabbed my leather coat off the back of one of the kitchen chairs, slipped my arms through the sleeves, stuffed my feet into my boots, and headed for the door.

  There was no way to know what would happen in the future. There was no way to know if the flurry of attention around me would abate or if it would only get worse. There was no way to know what would happen with Nik and me—with our bond—or what would happen if I freed Isfet. When I freed her. I honestly didn’t see that I had much choice in the matter.

  With everything piling up on my shoulders, there was no way to know how many more days I had left. What if this was my last chance to taste freedom before giving myself over to fate? What if this was my last chance to feel what it was like to be normal . . . to have a life that was all mine? If it was my last chance, I couldn’t waste it.

  I left the apartment, raced down the stairs, and took off through the back door, chasing down freedom. One last time.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I may have gone a little crazy, drunk on anonymity. Nobody knew this face; I was totally unrecognizable, and I reveled in it.

  Nik would be just fine without me for the rest of the weekend; the bonding withdrawals, if they even started within that short of a time, would be minimal. And the high school would be fine, too; in my latest vision of the future, it had obviously been a school day, which meant the massacre wouldn’t happen until Monday night at the earliest. It was only Saturday. I would have all day Sunday and Monday to sleuth around the school and figure shit out.

  Maybe it was reckless and selfish not to spend the whole weekend lurking around Newport, trying to lure shadows out for me to practice on, but damn it, my life was basically over. The Devil card pretty much guaranteed that. And if I was going to sacrifice myself, I needed a reminder of exactly what I was sacrificing myself for. I deserved one last hurrah, damn it.

  I spent the day wandering around Seattle. This city was a dear, old friend of mine, and I gloried in reacquainting myself with her. I meandered around the International District, snacking on dumplings in a little hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese restaurant, wondering if I would ever get the chance to taste them again. When hunger told me lunchtime had rolled around, I sat down for noodles at my favorite Thai place.

  I perused the endless line of stalls at Pike Place Market, moving among the throng of weekend tourists and shoppers. I blended in with the crowd for the first time in a long time, almost like I belonged—like I wasn’t the other—and it felt amazing.

  When I got bored at the market, I made my way down to the waterfront. I grabbed fish and chips at Ivar’s, then sat on a bench in the ferry terminal while I ate and watched the ferries come and go, not once worrying about anyone recognizing me. I felt like me for the first time in weeks, which was extra strange because I didn’t look a thing like me.

  When darkness fell, I retreated back into the city, in search of more food and a less wholesome form of entertainment. I ended up at an eighteen-and-over dance club in historic Pioneer Square. I didn’t have an ID for this face, so I couldn’t spend the evening holed up in one of my usual bar haunts. I even had to bribe the bouncer to let me in to the club without a driver’s license proclaiming my age as over eighteen. Couldn’t blame him—this face looked seventeen, max.

  In the heart of the throng of bodies crowding the dance floor, I jumped and swayed, writhed and spun, losing myself to the thumping rhythm of one techno-fied alternative classic after another. That seemed to be this place’s shtick, or at least this DJ’s.

  I’d just rejected my ninth potential dance partner when a young woman in her early twenties approached me, her touch soft, her smile free and open. She was pretty in a girl-next-door-gone-bad kind of way. Her wholesome look clashed with the wicked glint in her eyes, and I liked her immediately.

  We laughed as we danced, fingers entwined and hands held high over our heads, hips swaying with the rhythm of the music. She was about the furthest thing from Nik, and I lapped up her attentions. Nik and I weren’t anything to each other. We never would be—never could be—anything to each other. His life depended on it, and I felt the sudden, dire urge to prove to myself that that was true.

  About halfway through our second song dancing together, a guy closed in on my new friend. He gripped her hips, pressing his pelvis into her backside, and grinned at me over her shoulder. She leaned against him, her body language telling me that they were together.

  I let my head fall back, my long, straight blonde hair swaying as I moved to the rhythm of the music. Lips touched my neck, soft and gentle, and I closed my eyes.

  It took maybe another half of a song for the guy to work his way around to me. He was handsy where his lady was hesitant, pushy where she was gentle. I didn’t mind. I liked the attention, both of them focused on me.

  “What do you say we get out of here?” the guy said from behind me, his mouth a hairsbreadth from my ear. One hand curved around my waist, the other slid over the swell of my hip.

  I met the woman’s eyes, and she grinned, her nod eager. “Let’s go have some fun!”

  I was lost in the moment, hypnotized by their excitement. “Alright,” I said. “Sounds good.” I leaned in closer to the woman, bringing my lips inches from her ear. “I just have to go use the little girls’ room real quick,” I said, then pulled away.

  She drew the side of her lip in between her teeth, her expression turning from eager to unsure.

  “I’ll be right back,” I assured her, giving
her arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry.”

  It took some doing, but I managed to extract myself from the couple. I weaved between dancers, searching the perimeter of the dance floor for clues to where the bathroom might be. Finally, I spotted a sign hanging from the ceiling near the hallway in the back corner.

  Thankfully, there was no line for the ladies’ restroom. I did my business, and when I stopped at the sink to wash my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. The girl staring back at me was a stranger. Not just her face—her. She wasn’t me. This irresponsible, reckless girl who was about to leave with a couple of random people she’d just met to do gods-knew-what wasn’t me. Maybe a couple months ago, but not anymore.

  I bowed my head, fingers gripping the edge of the porcelain sink. “Get your shit together, Kat,” I muttered under my breath and turned away from the sink, avoiding looking into the mirror. I didn’t like who I’d become wearing this face . . . who I’d reverted to. I wanted to get out of there, away from her.

  I hurried to the bathroom door and yanked it open, rushing out into the hallway. I looked to my left, then to my right, and was relieved when I saw a glowing green exit sign over a black door at the end of the hallway. Mind set on getting outside for some much-needed fresh air, I made a beeline for the exit.

  I’d made it about three steps when door to the men’s bathroom opened, and the male half of my admiring couple stepped into the hallway. I paused for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the guy to recognize me.

  His eyes widened, and he grabbed my arm, halting my retreat. “Ready to go?” he asked, leaning in like he was going to kiss me. Where his touch had been tolerable before, it felt slimy now. I wanted his hands off of me.

  “Let go,” I said as I backed away, trying to pull free of his grip.

  His other arm snaked around my waist, his hand slipping underneath my coat. “Oh, come on, baby . . . we were having such a good time.” His hand slid up the front of my tank top to grab one of my breasts. “You can’t back out on us now.”

  Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Nobody told me what to do.

  I leaned in like I was even remotely open to the creep’s advances. Gripping his shoulders, I hiked my knee up, hard. It hit home in his groin.

  He grunted, doubling over. “Bitch,” he hissed. And then the bastard had the bright idea to take a swing at me. Oh, it was on.

  I ducked under his clumsy backhand, then swung my elbow straight into his jaw. There was a sharp crack, and he collapsed onto the sticky hallway floor.

  “Shit,” I muttered. I hadn’t intended for that to be a knockout blow.

  Shooting a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure nobody had seen what just happened, I crouched down and touched the side of his face. There was a definite, jagged lump—broken jaw. He was in for a world of pain when he woke up.

  I bowed my head and took a deep, soothing breath. Wearing this stranger’s face was making me crazy, and I needed to get control of myself. Somewhere else.

  I put my hands on my knees and stood.

  “Hey!” someone shouted from down the hallway, her voice half drowned out by the music but still vaguely familiar.

  A quick glance back confirmed my suspicions—it was the chick from the dance floor. And I was standing over her fella’s unconscious body. Which meant it was past time for me to get the hell out of there.

  I leapt over the guy’s legs and ran to the exit without a backward glance, slamming my hands into the push bar to open the door. The back door spat me out into an alley behind the club. Cool night air crashed into me, and I inhaled deeply, walking away from the club at a quick clip. The ground was paved with old, uneven cobblestones, edges worn smooth by time. I headed for the mouth of the alley but stopped when I saw a man standing there, shoulders leaned against the club’s exterior brick wall, one foot drawn up, the sole of his shoe flat against the wall.

  I sucked in a breath, missing a step. I was certain it was Nik.

  The man looked at me, but his features were unfamiliar. I felt more of a letdown than a relief. Almost like I wanted Nik to track me down.

  I pulled up my hood, zipped my leather coat, and stuffed my hands into my pockets, fingering the drawstring on the bag holding my deck of tarot cards as I continued on my way. The fingers of my other hand curled around my cell phone, but I didn’t pull it out of my pocket. I’d felt it vibrating all night, and it was easier to pretend the missed calls and messages weren’t there if I didn’t actually look at who they were from. If I didn’t actually see his name.

  Nik had already proven he could track me through my At ink, anyway, so if he really needed to find me—if he really wanted to—he would.

  I took a left at the end of the alley. I figured it was probably too late for a bus, and I wasn’t really in the mood to walk all the way back to Capitol Hill from Pioneer Square in the middle of the night. I could always call a car, but I had another destination in mind. Kimi’s building was a block away, and I doubted she would mind if I crashed on the couch for the night.

  It wasn’t a great time for a teen girl to be out on the streets alone. Seattle’s streets were notorious for hosting junkies who loitered by storefronts and under covered alcoves during the late night and early morning hours. That, on top of the usual Saturday night, kicked-out-of-a-bar crowd that populated Pioneer Square in the wee hours of the morning, meant I was fending off catcalls and other unwanted attention every ten feet or so. It was an effort not to punch anyone. Else.

  Kimi’s building was one of the old, brick warehouses built around the turn of the century that had been converted into a posh apartment building. I’d been to her loft a couple times before, though never this late. When I reached her building’s exterior door, I found Kimi’s name on the list on the call box and pushed the corresponding button.

  It rang. And rang. And rang.

  I rested my forehead against the rough brick and pressed the button again. More ringing. “Come on, Kimi . . .”

  After the third round of ringing and waiting and hoping, I gave up. But I still wasn’t willing to resort to using my phone. What if it hadn’t been Nik who’d been calling and texting me all night? It was easy to be annoyed thinking he was trying to keep tabs on me, but the possibility that he wasn’t—I didn’t think I could handle that right now.

  I scouted around Kimi’s building, eyes looking upward, searching for the balcony to her second-floor unit. I spotted her fuchsia-painted wrought iron patio furniture three balconies in and knew I had the right spot.

  Taking a step back, I looked first up the road, then down, then up at Kimi’s balcony. The base was maybe fifteen feet up. If I stood on the railing of the unit below hers, I estimated that I would only have to pick a half dozen handholds in the brick wall to reach her balcony. I was far from an expert climber, but I could manage scaling a story or two up a brick wall.

  I hoisted myself up onto the railing, balancing as I slowly moved closer to the wall. The old brick provided the perfect climbing medium, with deep grooves where the mortar had worn away between the bricks. My first four moves were easy. I found good handholds and footholds right away.

  But on my fifth move, I grabbed a loose brick. With the crunch of brick against mortar, it slipped out of its slot in the wall and thumped into my shoulder on its way down to the sidewalk, where it shattered into a spray of chunky red pieces. I dangled from the wall by one hand, my heart hammering in my chest. A fall now probably wouldn’t cause major damage, but it would still hurt.

  Gritting my teeth, I put my hand in the recess left by the brick and pulled myself farther up the wall, using the other hand to grip the iron bar at the bottom of the railing lining Kimi’s balcony. I dragged myself higher, more or less falling over the top of the railing.

  Righting myself, I peered in through the glass sliding door, hands over my eyes to make it easier to see into the dark apartment. No lights were on. It didn’t look like anybody was home. Or, at least, not up.

  I tri
ed the handle of the sliding door, but it was locked.

  “Dammit,” I hissed.

  I wasn’t about to break through Kimi’s door, so I settled in one of the padded chairs on the balcony instead, stretching out my legs and tucking my chin against my chest as I hugged myself for warmth. Looked like I would be spending the night outside.

  I glanced up at the night sky. It was overcast, no sign of stars or the moon through the thick cloud cover.

  I just hoped it didn’t rain.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Hey!” The single word sliced through my shallow sleep.

  I groaned. My whole body was stiff, chilled to the bone, and I ached everywhere.

  Something nudged my leg—something that felt an awful lot like toes. “Hey! Wake up!” someone said. The owner of the toes, I assumed. The voice was female, and familiar.

  The events of the previous night and the reason I was so cold and uncomfortable came flooding back. “Kimi?” I said, voice rough. I cracked open my eyelids, raising a hand to guard my eyes from the painful burst of sunlight peeking around the neighboring building.

  Kimi stood in the doorway of the sliding glass door, one foot in her apartment, the other nudging my leg. Her hair was up in a loose bun, and her sweats looked oh so cozy compared to my damp clothes. Her arms were raised partway and her hands were outstretched, fingers curled around the handle of a Taser that was aimed directly at me.

  “Who the hell are you,” she said, “and how do you know my name?” Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head, planting her raised foot back on the hardwood floor inside. “And how the hell did you get up here?”

  I sat up, joints stiff and moving slowly, and scooted my butt back in the chair, rubbing my face with frozen fingers. “It’s me, Kimi,” I said, irritation lacing my voice. What was she playing at?

  “Me means nothing to me,” she said. “I don’t know you.” She shook the Taser for emphasis. “Now, get up and get out of here, or I swear to God I will use this on you.”