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

by Lindsey Fairleigh

“You good, Mars?” I asked over my shoulder, not willing to take my eyes off the thing.

  “Yeah,” she said, voice shaky. “I think so.”

  I backed up a step, maintaining my stance. I took another step, and another, until I reached Mari. Anapa was with her, pulling her up to her feet.

  “Fight, or run?” I asked.

  “Fight,” Mari hissed, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched two anti-At daggers appear in her hands, blades glistening like obsidian. I didn’t know much about Aaru, but one thing was becoming abundantly clear: thoughts held a shit-ton of power here.

  Anapa nodded in agreement, and a second later, he was holding a long staff with wicked-looking silver blades on either end and looking a hell of a lot like he knew how to use it.

  I grinned, anticipation thrumming through me. There wasn’t much I loved more than a good fight. “I was so hoping you would say that,” I told Mari.

  As if on cue, new tentacles sprouted from the hideous monstrosity, reaching for us. More and more emerged, cautiously extending outward, until there were too many and I lost count. They weaved from side to side gently, like a horde of cobras mesmerizing their prey just before they struck.

  In unison, the tentacles reared back.

  I held my breath, my anticipation transforming into fear. Fighting had been the wrong decision. I could see that now, clear as day. We were far outmatched, but it was too late to run.

  All at once, the tentacles lashed out.

  I managed to slice through at least a dozen before one caught my sword arm. It coiled around my wrist, squeezing as it worked its way up my arm. Another wrapped around my waist. Another my right thigh. And another my left ankle.

  Panic fluttered in my chest as I fought against the tightening bindings.

  The tentacle wrapped around my waist wound its way higher, constricting around my ribcage as it lifted me off the ground.

  I struggled to breathe. I struggled to move at all.

  “Mars!” I called out with my last breath. “Anapa!” I craned my neck this way and that, searching for them among the sea of writhing, snapping tentacles.

  I spotted Mari, looking even worse off than me. But a moment later, a tentacle coiled around my head and covered my eyes, sealing me in darkness.

  I hung there, blind and suffocating, for what felt like an eternity.

  And then, suddenly, I was falling.

  I landed on my butt, tentacles loosening all around me. I wriggled out of them, shrugging off their dead weight and crawling away a few yards as I sucked in a lungful of air. I almost didn’t believe what I was seeing.

  Reinforcements had arrived—Dom had arrived—and he was tearing through the tentacles with a glorious fury. He fought like a man possessed. Entranced by his deadly dance, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him.

  Someone grabbed my arm, their grip tight, but I hardly noticed. “Come on, Auntie!” that same someone yelled. “We’ve got to go!”

  The voice cut through my admiring trance, and I turned to look at the young woman tugging on my arm. “Susie?” I said, stunned to see my niece.

  “Come on!” she repeated, pulling harder.

  I let her yank me up to my feet. I felt like I was looking at a ghost, and I couldn’t stop staring at her. Probably because I kind of was looking at a ghost.

  “We’ve got to get to the anchor point,” Susie said, urging me away from the fight.

  “But—” I glanced over my shoulder, looking for Anapa and Mari. “But what about the others?”

  “Re already got them out of there,” Susie said. “They’re all waiting for us.” She tugged on my arm, pulling me into a stumbling run. “Let’s go!”

  Again, I glanced over my shoulder, catching sight of Dom as he tore through the tentacles. “But Dom—”

  “He’ll be fine,” Susie said, urging me onward. “He knows how to handle the Beast better than anyone.”

  I fell into step beside her, matching her long, loping strides, no longer needing to be pulled along. “The Beast?”

  “Yeah,” Susie said as we ran. “That’s what we call it.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, but I could no longer see any hint of the Beast or Dom through the mist. “What is it?”

  “Nobody knows,” she said, “but it lives in the mist surrounding Aaru, lying in wait to attack new arrivals.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Susie shook her head and shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said. “But it’s not usually this hostile; it mostly just messes with people’s heads . . . makes them see things that aren’t real.”

  I frowned. It was starting to look like my venture into Aaru was going to be even less pleasant than I’d imagined.

  “Don’t worry, though,” Susie added. “Once we get to Dom’s place, we should be safe. It’s in another part of Aaru, and Dom told me the Beast almost never leaves this part.”

  “Never?” I repeated back to her, hoping I’d heard her right. If I never saw the Beast again, it would be too soon.

  Susie flashed me a tight smile. “Almost never.”

  Chapter Three

  I was relieved beyond words when four people came into view through the mist, Mari and Anapa included. Part of me hadn’t believed Susie’s claim that they were out of the Beast’s clutches. A small part of me had felt like, by running, I was abandoning them to some terrible fate. Thankfully, that small part had been wrong.

  Mari and Anapa stood near a tall, roughhewn stone archway, alongside Re and Syris. Through the archway, I could see a verdant, ancient wood, overrun by huge ferns, thick moss, and broad tree trunks.

  Anapa and Re shuffled off to one side of the archway, exchanging quiet words, while Mari stood on the other side of the arch, hugging herself, eyes unblinking as she stared off at nothing. Syris was posted directly in front of the archway, his hand pressed against the inner edge of the gray stone, his golden, hawklike stare locked on us. A broad grin slowly spread across his face as we drew nearer.

  I slowed to a walk a dozen yards out. “I guess we should have run,” I said to Mari.

  A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up from her chest, seeming to surprise her. Her eyes opened even wider—how that was possible, I didn’t understand—and she covered her mouth with one hand.

  I paused beside Mari, resting my hand on her arm. “You okay?” When she nodded, eyes haunted, I offered her a quick, tight-lipped smile and a nod. She was thoroughly freaked out. I could relate.

  Releasing her arm, I stepped past her, heading for Syris. “Nice to see you, kid,” I told him, reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze.

  “You too, Auntie,” Syris said, flashing me a wide smile.

  “I missed you goobers.” I held out my arm for Susie. “Both of you.”

  It had been nearly four years since I’d seen the twins—since they’d gone off to learn how to be the caretakers of our universe from the other Netjers. Both were taller than me now, taking after their parents, and they looked less like teenagers than they had when they’d left and far more like Lex and Heru. Syris especially—his resemblance to his father was more striking than ever.

  “We missed you too,” Susie said, sidling in. She wrapped her arm around my waist as I curved mine around her shoulders in a side-hug. “How are Mama and Daddy?” she asked. “We haven’t talked to them since the Mother of All locked us up.” She exchanged a concerned look with her brother. “Dom gives us updates when he talks to them, but mostly about where they are and what they’re up to . . . not so much about how they are.”

  “They’re good,” I told her, meeting her carmine eyes. The strange red-brown color of her irises reminded me so much of Lex that it hurt my heart, and I realized I wasn’t being entirely truthful. “Or, at least, they were good before . . .” I frowned, a single, hollow laugh working its way up from my belly. “Honestly, you guys, I don’t know how they’re doing now. I don’t even know where they are.” I swallowed roughly. “But I’m sure the news of what happened to you guys destroye
d them.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Susie said, gaze drifting to the gate. “I just wish we could talk to them ourselves . . . not just through Dom. Then, maybe, if they could see that we really are okay . . .” She shrugged, exhaling heavily. “Or maybe that wouldn’t make a difference at all.”

  I frowned, stuck on what she’d said about only being able to talk to Lex and Heru through Dom. I hadn’t realized the mirrors would only work for him. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense, considering his name was the only one etched into the glass on the other side of the mirrors.

  Syris stared off into the shimmering mist, watching the way we’d come. After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, he said, “They’re in the oasis.”

  I looked at him, eyebrows rising.

  “Pretty much everyone is,” he added.

  “Oh yeah!” Susie said, some of the brightness returning to her eyes. “Last we heard, they were awaiting word of where you—of where your body was. You know, so they could retrieve it and get to work healing you . . .”

  My body. I nodded slowly. I’d sacrificed my life—or at least my mortal body—to make it back to this universe, but if Aset and Neffe couldn’t repair the damage I’d done to my body and bring it back to life, then my death would have been for nothing. It was only through contact with my physical body that Nik would be able to pull me—and, through me, Isfet—out of Aaru. But if there was no viable body for us . . .

  Both Isfet and I would remain trapped in Aaru, leaving the universe undefended when the Mother of All eventually came calling. She would suck this universe dry of its soul-energy, leaving behind a lifeless husk that would shrivel up and flake away until there was nothing left. No Duat. No Aaru.

  Then, we wouldn’t just be dead. We wouldn’t exist at all.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. There was nothing I could do about what was happening in the physical realm right now. I had to trust that my people would succeed out there, that they would find my body and revive it, and instead focus on my own task in here. I’d found Dom; now I needed to track down Isfet. And I needed to do it quickly.

  I only had until Nik succumbed to the bonding withdrawals and his physical body gave in . . . or until the Netjers tracked him down and killed him. Either way, he would end up trapped here in hell with me.

  Much as I might enjoy the relative eternity we would have together in Aaru—it would be a hell of a lot more time for us to be together than if I succeeded and gave myself over to Isfet—Nik’s status as a living, breathing Nejeret was the other half of the break-Isfet-free equation. If Nik died before I’d found Isfet, there would be no way for us to break her out of Aaru.

  “There’s Dom,” Syris said, pointing into the mist with his chin.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I whipped my head around to follow Syris’s line of sight. Dom’s smooth, purposeful stride was unmistakable, even with the dense mist clouding any distinguishing features. As his face became more distinct, happiness swelled within me, a soothing warmth spreading through my chest and out to the rest of my body. Or rather, to the rest of my soul.

  I released the twins and started toward my half-brother at an awkward run-walk. I stopped short of Dom, just out of arm’s reach. All I could do was stare at him. It had been months since I’d seen him as anything more than a ghostly, silvered reflection in a mirror.

  But now, he stood before me, dark hair slicked back and not a stitch of his tailored suit out of place. He was in full color, looking as alive as he’d ever been. He was really here, standing right in front of me. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. And I did want to, but I was paralyzed by a rush of emotions.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Dom said, his thin lips twitching as he suppressed a smile.

  My shoulders jerked with a sudden bout of laughter. Dom had made a joke. Dom never joked—he was as serious as they came—and the display of macabre humor was so unexpected that it knocked me out of my state of shock.

  But my laughter quickly died out, giving way to crushing guilt and silent tears. “I—” I choked on the words. “I’m so sorry, Dom.” I could have saved him. I should have saved him. But I hadn’t been fast enough—I hadn’t been smart enough—and my ineptitude had cost him his life.

  “Oh, little sister . . .” Dom opened his arms, and I practically fell into them. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his cheek on the top of my head. “When Mei finally admitted that she knew what you would have to do to come back to us—when she told me you would have to take your own life . . .” His hold on me tightened. “I tried to get through to you again. I tried to tell you that there must be some other way.” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat roughly. “To think of what you must have gone through . . .”

  I squeezed his torso, sniffling against his shoulder. “It had to be done.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, “but what if the attempts to revive your body are unsuccessful? What then, little sister?”

  I loosened my hold on Dom and pulled away so I could see his face. “Then we find another way,” I said. “There’s always a way.” My lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “You taught me that.”

  Dom inhaled and exhaled deeply, expression somber, and then he nodded once. “Yes, well . . .” He released me and stepped back, clearing his throat again. Neither of us was big on the ushy-gushy stuff, and awkwardness quickly replaced the joy of our reunion. “We should be on our way before the Beast catches your scent again.”

  Mention of the Beast was like a bucket of ice water dumping over my head, and cold focus returned to me in a heartbeat. I nodded. “Uh, yeah . . . let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Come,” Dom said, striding toward the others.

  I jogged a few steps to catch up.

  “Everyone through the anchor point,” Dom said, gesturing to the archway with his hand.

  Re guided Anapa through, and I watched them step into the enchanting forest scene. Mari followed, then Susie.

  I paused when I reached the archway, peeking around the backside, like I might see the same forest behind it that I could see through it. But there was nothing but dense, shimmering mist for as far as the eye could see. It was just like one of my gateways—a doorway to some other, faraway place.

  I glanced at Dom, opening my mouth to ask him what exactly this thing was.

  But he put a stop to my question before it could even start. “I’ll explain everything when we get to safety.”

  I shut my mouth and nodded.

  “After you, little sister,” Dom said, holding his arm out toward the archway.

  I stepped closer, scanning the whole thing from ground to apex and back down to the ground on the other side. There was a symbol carved into the keystone—a perfect circle.

  I’d known about the mist from my brief trip into Aaru a few weeks back, but I was about to leave what little I knew about this strange prison behind and step into the unknown. I hated being in the dark on pretty much anything, but if there was one person I trusted with my life—or rather, with my afterlife—it was Dom.

  I glanced at him once more and, taking a deep breath, stepped through the archway.

  Chapter Four

  “How’s Nik doing?” I asked Dom as we walked along a lazily winding trail through the woods.

  The forest was downright magical. Old-growth evergreens reached high above, piney branches merging together to skew the view of the treetops and block out the sky. The late-afternoon light filtering down through the thick canopy cast the woods in a gold-green hue, brightening the lush undergrowth to shades of emerald, peridot, and jade. Long clumps of hanging moss clung to the lowest branches, glimmering like spun gold. The air was rich and earthy, the scent of pine mixing with the gentle sweetness of berries and tree sap. Among the fanning ferns, thick moss carpeted the ground on either side of the trail, conforming over boulders and fallen trees and concealing intricate root systems.

  Not that the beauty of this new p
art of Aaru did anything to distract me from thoughts of Nik. I hadn’t spoken to him since his brief stint possessing Re, back in the Netjer universe. Dying certainly hadn’t done anything to lessen the bonding withdrawals on my end, which meant Nik was never far from the forefront of my mind.

  But beyond that, I simply missed the shit out of him. I missed his wicked charisma and moody broodiness. I missed the ever-present mischievous glint in his ice-blue irises and his stupid, beautiful smirk. I missed his subtle, endless kindness and the way he gave me shit nonstop. I missed him, plain and simple. He was my other half—my literal soulmate—and it hurt me beyond the withdrawal pains to be separated from him for so long.

  “Nik is . . . well enough,” Dom said after a thoughtful pause.

  I glanced at him, mind redirected from the dangerous, pity-party train of thought.

  “His withdrawal symptoms are progressing as expected,” Dom added. “Though the last time we spoke, Mei confessed that she believes him to be downplaying his level of discomfort.”

  “Well, that’s not good,” I said, worry for Nik on an emotional level—for the man who’d stolen my heart—overshadowing the more practical, fate-of-the-universe reason to be concerned about his health.

  “Indeed, it is not.” Dom fell quiet for a moment. “I am eager to check in with him,” he said. “Hopefully he will have news of your body.”

  I snorted, the corner of my mouth tensing. “Gods, I hope so.”

  Dom and I settled into a companionable silence as we walked, both losing ourselves in a warren of thoughts. Ahead, Susie and Syris led the way, directing our course when the trail forked this way or that. Re followed close behind them, then Anapa and Mari walking side by side, Mari grilling Anapa about the Netjer universe. Dom and I brought up the rear, falling back a little, both of us naturally preferring the sense of privacy brought on by the distance.

  In the rare moments I let myself think about the likelihood that, should everything work out the way we hoped, Nik and I would never be together again—not in the flesh after Isfet took me over, body and soul—the ache in my heart became all-consuming. I made an effort to keep that subject buried deep within the farthest recesses of my mind. I locked it away and threw out the key. I couldn’t risk thinking about it for more than a second or two; if I did, I might not be able to follow through with what had to be done.