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

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I hesitated, just for a moment.

  The Mother of All flicked her hand, and that hesitation turned into a full-on pause.

  I couldn’t move. Mercy was upraised, and my muscles hummed with unspent energy, but I couldn’t do a damn thing. I was stuck, frozen in place.

  I gritted my teeth, focusing inward on the otherworldly materials lacing my ba and using them to reach out to the Essence. Between one heartbeat and the next, the wild, foreign energy flooded into me, making my whole body sizzle. The replica of Mercy seemed to light on fire as the energy rushed through me and into her long, curved blade.

  I roared, and the spell the Mother had woven to hold me in place disintegrated.

  The Mother of All took a step backward, eyes widening in shock. “That’s not possible,” she said, shaking her head. “How did you—”

  It was my turn to grin. “I’ve been practicing,” I told her, voice razor sharp.

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Maybe,” she said, raising her hands. “But not nearly enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I rushed the Mother of All, figuring I had just one shot at this. I couldn’t afford to screw it up by hesitating. I needed to take the Mother out of play, just for a moment. Just long enough for me to dive through the portal and return to my universe, where the fight would be a hell of a lot fairer. If I managed to get into Aaru and break Isfet free, the two of us together might even have the upper hand.

  A flash of bright, blinding light burst out of the Mother’s raised hands.

  “Ah!” I shouted, closing my eyes and averting my face even as I followed through on the strike. The blade of my sword sliced through the air. And that was all it sliced through.

  Unable to see my surroundings, I miscalculated the sword’s position in relation to the floor. The tip of the blade struck an unrelenting surface, screeching painfully. The friction twisted the blade, and the handle wrenched itself out of my grip and clattered onto the floor. I stumbled forward a few steps, blinking to clear my vision, but my surroundings remained clouded in darkness.

  I could sense my sword a half-dozen feet away. This version of Mercy was a part of me, the very material making it up pulled from my body and soul, and being separated from it was physically painful—like losing an arm or an eye. All I could think about was curling my fingers around the hilt and feeling the rightness that would come from having it in my possession once more.

  I dove in the direction of the sword, rolling over my shoulder as I landed. My fingers found Mercy’s hilt instinctively, and I flipped onto my feet, tension easing by the millisecond. I inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly, eyes searching the absolute darkness surrounding me.

  I had no idea if I was still in the portal chamber or not. The floor was hard and smooth, so the Mother hadn’t transported me back to my carpeted cell, but I couldn’t hear the vacuous yawn of the portal anymore, so either she’d shut down my only way home or she’d moved me elsewhere.

  Something in the gentle movement of the air told me I wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t tell any more than that. Was the Mother of All still with me? Or was it someone else?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  I heard the achingly beautiful, musical laughter that could only belong to one being. “You attacked me, and I defended myself,” the Mother of All said, condescension thick in her voice. “Don’t worry, the blindness will pass in time.”

  So, it was still her.

  Raising my sword, I spun around to face her. “How? What did you do to me?” I cocked my head to the side, listening to the silence.

  The Mother of All didn’t make any passive sounds—no heartbeat, no rush of air filling and leaving her lungs. No signs of life at all. It was creepy as all hell. It also meant I had to keep her talking—to get her moving. Her voice and the shift in the air caused by her every subtle movement were my only indicators of her position compared to mine.

  “The sight of the portal seemed to cause you such distress,” the Mother said, “so I moved you away from it.”

  So we weren’t in the portal chamber any more. Good to know. I became very, very still. “The portal’s still open?”

  Faint spots of light danced across the darkness. My vision was starting to return. That bright-ass light must’ve damaged my retinas, and they were starting to heal. I couldn’t see anything definitive yet, but I decided to maintain the illusion of blindness. Better to be perceived as weak. Better to be underestimated than over. If I could catch the Mother off guard, there was still a chance that I could get to—and through—the portal.

  “It is,” the Mother of All said, emitting that annoyingly joyous laughter again. “I still need the portal. There are a few more souls to send through.” I knew from Anapa that opening a portal expended a huge amount of energy for the Mother; she would need to refuel after this, consuming some of the energy from some ill-fated universe.

  I could make out the Mother’s outline now, a hazy bright spot among the mottled darkness. She stood several paces away, moving ever so slowly to the right. It was almost like she was circling me. Smart of her, not to remain in a single spot and not to make any quick movements. Stupid, too, because now I knew she really was afraid of me. She didn’t want me to get a solid lock on her position, which meant I really could hurt her.

  I tucked that little bit of good news away, keeping my features blank and eyes mimicking that hapless searching of the newly sightless.

  “You won’t be passing through, though,” the Mother of All added. “You won’t ever be going home.”

  My vision had returned enough that I had a general idea of the shape and layout of the room we were in. Square—a perfect cube, from the looks of it—with white walls, floor, and ceiling. The room was completely empty, no doors or windows. No furniture. Nothing but the Mother of All and me.

  “No,” the Mother of All continued, “this is where you will spend the rest of your days. And when your body perishes and your ba is free, you will remain here, trapped with nothing but your own failure as company for all time.”

  It was a struggle to maintain my composure, but my sight was back enough that I felt comfortable redoubling my escape efforts. I needed to keep her talking for a little while longer. So long as she was here, with me, the portal was open. So long as she was here with me, I still had a shot. Thankfully, the Mother of all seemed fully wrapped up in her evil-villain monologue.

  “Sounds lovely,” I said, deadpan.

  The Mother was quiet for a moment. “Not particularly,” she finally said, apparently taking my response literally.

  I recalled Anapa mentioning once that sarcasm was his favorite thing about my universe, which made me wonder if it didn’t exist elsewhere. How sad for everyone everywhere else.

  “But,” the Mother of All continued, “you have madness to look forward to.”

  I followed her as she made her slow circuit around me, always keeping my focus slightly off target.

  “First your physical body will perish,” she said, “and in time, your sanity will go as well. Then, I think, eternity here shouldn’t be so bad.”

  My vision was almost back to normal. Just a few more seconds. “Oh, goodie,” I said, hoping the sarcasm would throw her further off-balance.

  It did. She frowned, unaware that I could see her expression and would be aware of her befuddlement. A moment later, she shook her head, her crystalline hair tinkling like wind chimes. “And please do not get your hopes up that one of your accomplices will rescue you. Both Re and Anapa will be sent through to your universe.”

  It was my turn to be caught off guard. “What?” I said before I could stop myself. “Why?”

  “They will join the rest of your bastardized species . . .” She made one of her trademark dramatic pauses. “In Aaru.”

  Her words hit me like a solid punch to the gut. My sword arm drooped, my heart dropping into my stomach.

  “Feel free to attempt esca
pe as many times as you like,” she said. “This chamber is attuned to your ba, and every time you try to leave, you will be drawn right back here. But by all means, don’t take my word for it. Trying to free yourself will give you something to do to occupy your time while you await the inevitable.”

  She was winding down, getting ready to leave. Some deep, instinctive part of me sensed the truth in her words. I wouldn’t be able to break myself out of this new prison. As that truth settled in, my sword drooped further, stopping only when the nose touched the floor. I bowed my head, brow furrowing. There had to be a way. There was always a way . . .

  A faint spark of hope flickered to life in my chest. I wouldn’t be able to escape . . . but maybe I wouldn’t have to. Not if she let me out.

  “For what it’s worth, I am sorry that this is your fate.” The Mother of All stopped moving and tilted her head to the side, studying me. “You had the potential for such greatness.” She shook her head and turned her back to me. “What a waste,” she said, raising her hand and flicking her fingers at the wall nearest her.

  An opening appeared in the wall. Through it, I could see the shimmering, quicksilver walls of the portal chamber. Re was there, surrounded by a half-dozen other Netjers. From the way they were all standing, it was more than clear who was captive and who was captor. The Mother hadn’t lied.

  In the back of my mind, I wondered if she, like Isfet, couldn’t lie. Perhaps that was what perplexed the Mother so much about my sarcasm. It was basically lies coated in bitter humor. Not that any of that mattered now.

  All that mattered was getting out of here.

  As the Mother of All stepped through the doorway, I lunged after her. She glanced at me over her shoulder, no hint of concern on her face. There was just that damn smirk. Like she thought she’d won.

  I would show her.

  She flicked her fingers again, and the doorway winked out of existence behind me.

  Miracle of miracles, I made it through. My heart soared.

  Until I realized that I hadn’t followed the Mother into the portal chamber. There was no sign of the Mother of All or of Re or of the other Netjers. There was no sign of the portal. There was only me and four white walls.

  It was just as she said. I’d passed through a doorway and had ended up right back where I’d started.

  I was trapped.

  Forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I stood in the center of the room, turning every few minutes to study a different part of the walls, looking for a weak spot in my prison. I spent a good long time staring at the floor, too, and after a while, I even laid down on my back and stared up at the ceiling. I was looking not just with my eyes but with my soul. With my ba. I tapped into the Essence and, through that combined lens of At, anti-At, and alien Essence, scrutinized every millimeter of my cell.

  I couldn’t exactly see the intricate web of energy and matter making up the underlying structure of my cell, but I could sense it, which was just as good, so far as my brain was concerned. Not that it did me any actual good. The Essence was woven together in such a complex, fine pattern that I could hardly keep track of the gossamer strands, even with my extremely enhanced spiritual sight. It made the task of escaping all but impossible.

  But if there’s one thing I’m not a big fan of, it’s giving up. I think it’s the word quitter; I really hate that word, especially when it’s describing me. Nobody likes a quitter, at least that’s what they say. I don’t always agree with “them,” but I do on this. Quitters suck balls.

  Which is why, despite all of the evidence pointing to the conclusion that certain doom was currently in progress—not just my certain doom, but my universe’s as well—and that I was just circling the bowl, waiting to take the plunge into eternal misery, I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. Not just yet.

  Maybe I was caught up in a pretty epic fucktangle—my worst yet—but I’ve managed to wiggle my way out of each worst-one-yet so far. Who’s to say that this time would be any different? Logic and common sense, probably, but so far as I was concerned, they could go take a flying leap.

  I was pissed off. Royally. How dare the bitch goddess damn me like this. I was Kat fucking Dubois. She had no idea who she was dealing with. I was fully ready to let my loose-cannon flag fly, and I would not stop—would not give up—until the end of gods-fucking-damned time.

  There was no indication for how long I’d been studying my prison other than the mundane functions of my own body. My withdrawal headache was still on the minimal side, which meant I hadn’t been in my new cell for more than a day. And I’d managed to “hold it” where bathroom needs were concerned, so that shrunk the time window further. If I had to guess, I’d have said I’d been trapped in that white room for somewhere between eight and ten hours.

  Eventually, I would have to relieve myself, but the idea was pretty damn unappealing considering I would have to use the just-in-case toilet bucket I’d made out of Essence and stashed in the corner.

  Part of me didn’t get why preserving the pristine nature of my cell mattered so much to me. If I didn’t find a way out of here, and soon, I would die. At this rate, dehydration would kill me before the bonding withdrawals were even that bad. Then, my ba would leave my physical body behind, but both I—in ba form—and my body would still be stuck in here. I’d have to watch my body rot away. There would be no getting away from that smell.

  “Aaargh!” I slapped my palms against the floor in irritation.

  I couldn’t see any break in the web of Essence surrounding my cell. So far as I could tell, the whole thing was one long, unbroken strand of that alien material woven over, through, and around itself again and again, leaving me no weak points to try to wiggle through. Sure, I could pull the Essence into the cell and reshape it—hence the toilet bucket—but I couldn’t push all the way through it to the outside. I had no idea what was outside, but it had to be better than this. Anything would be better than this.

  After a couple more hours of staring at the walls, I gave in and used the bucket. I sealed it off as best as I could, but my dignity was still the worse for wear. I just hoped nobody was watching me.

  I eased down in the opposite corner and leaned back against the wall, drawing my knees up and resting my forearms on top of them. There didn’t seem to be any way out, which was frustrating as all hell. I could only imagine what was happening back in my universe. Which phase of the terrifying echo-dream were we in now? How many of my people had been killed so far? How many humans? How many of the people I loved were already in Aaru?

  Up until now, I’d been too afraid of the answers to those questions to check in with Dom. It was time to suck it up and find out.

  I closed my eyes and lowered my left hand to the floor, letting the threads of At and anti-At extend out through the Eye of Horus symbol inked into my palm and interweave themselves through the Essence. The alien energy rushed into me, but it didn’t seem so painful anymore. Maybe because it had already seared the sensation out of my nerve endings, or maybe because reality itself had become so awful that something as mundane as physical pain couldn’t hold a flame to it.

  I took a deep breath, waiting for that initial burst of pain to normalize, then opened my eyes and pulled the mirror pendant hanging around my neck away from my chest. I couldn’t see my half-brother, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear me. I could sense that the magic was working.

  “Dom?” I said. “Are you there?”

  He appeared suddenly, and relief flooded my body. I hadn’t been sure it would work from in here. “It is time?” he said, not looking at me. “You are certain?”

  I frowned, brow scrunching. “What? Who are you talking to?” Not to me, that much was clear.

  “But I cannot see her . . .”

  “Dom, dude, I’m right here.”

  “Very well,” he said. “Little sister, I am taking it on faith that you can hear me.”

  “Yeah, Dom, I can hear you.”

  �
��Mei assures me that this is the moment when I must reach out to you.”

  I pressed my lips together and exhaled through my nose. I could hear Dom, but it looked like he couldn’t hear me. Apparently the Mother’s version of maximum security hindered my ability to communicate as well. It was distinctly not ideal. But . . . at least I could receive messages. It was better than nothing.

  “She has a message for you . . .”

  “Alright, I’m listening,” I said, despite knowing full well that he couldn’t hear me. Any message that Mei had for me would be about as important as they came and no doubt would have to do with her knowledge of the future, courtesy of her latent ability to travel through time. She usually kept her lips zipped regarding what she’d seen, so the rare times she chose to pass on a little hint or guidance, we were all always keen to listen. Now was no different.

  “You have the power to get home,” Dom said. “You have always had the power to get home.”

  “Thanks, Glinda,” I grumbled. But as his words sank in, I sat up straighter, pulling away from the corner of my cell—you have the power to get home. “How?” I asked pointlessly.

  “Use the cards,” Dom said.

  Unconsciously, I felt for the outline of the deck of tarot cards through the leather of my coat.

  “They will show you the way. Listen to the universe, and be patient. When the time comes, you will know what to do.”

  I waited a few seconds longer, but he didn’t say any more. “Is that all? Some specifics would be nice . . .”

  “I’m sorry, little sister,” Dom said, almost like he could hear me and was responding. “Mei refuses to say more, though I am certain she’s holding back. I’ll try to get more out of her.”

  I nodded, having complete and utter faith in him. If anyone could get Mei to spill the beans, it was Dom. He’d spent hundreds of years as Heru’s lead interrogator, after all.

  “Everyone is well here . . . or well enough, for now,” he said. “The Netjers have arrived, but they’re focusing on the low-hanging fruit at the moment.”