Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(64)
Watching as Coyote snarls. Lunging in a flash of gleaming eyes, gnashing teeth, and hot rancid breath pelting hard against my cheek. His jaw widening, ready to take another chunk out of me—
When he falters.
Stumbles.
Collapsing to the ground and howling in pain.
I smile triumphantly, though the smile soon fades when I lift my gaze to find Cade looming naked and bloodied before me, bits of animal carcass clinging to his skin.
I’ve hit the wrong mark.
“What the hell are you doing?” He drops beside Coyote, cursing bitterly as he drags on the fletch, yanking the dart from his neck. And damn if he isn’t smart enough to know it doesn’t end there. He lowers his head to the hit, molds his lips around it, and siphons the poison I’d placed on the tip, before spitting it onto the ground. “You’re a real idiot, you know that?” He shakes his head and glares, watching as I reload the blowgun and take aim once again. “Trust me,” he says. “You do not want to do that.”
“You have no idea what I want.” I wrap my lips around the tube, inhale a deep, purposeful breath, and blow once again.
Blow with everything that I’ve got.
Letting loose my own stream of curses when Cade dances free of the dart’s path, and turns into a coyote again.
The other one now fully recovered, they stand in solidarity before me—shoulder to menacing shoulder.
Eyes blazing with vengeance, leaving no doubt it’s my blood they’re after. And before I can run, before I can reload and take aim—they descend on me in a frenzy of ragged claws and sharp fangs.
thirty-four
Daire
The first thing I notice when I burst through the wall is the demon.
Or should I say, demons. After all, there’s an entire army of them.
The second thing I notice is how no one seems to be the least bit alarmed by the giant-sized, malevolent beings that surround them. Barely sparing a glance at the variety of tails, and hooves, and horns, and misshapen heads. Not to mention the faces that appear to be a grotesque mix of animal, human, and some other unidentifiable beast that originated in a very dark place.
The crowd just continues to shuffle along in their numbed and glazed state. And when it’s my turn to pass, despite my best efforts to blend with the rest, it’s not long before one of those long, ragged claws reaches toward me, as he shoves his face close to mine. Its dark slitted eyes peering so close, I break into a sweat.
This can’t happen.
I can’t afford to be outted.
Not now.
Not after getting this far.
I steady my breath and stare straight ahead, covertly wagging the pack of cigarettes before him as I send a silent prayer to my ancestors, the elements, my talismans, anyone who might be willing to listen. Praying the tobacco offering will work as well as it did the last time I was here, and heaving a sigh of relief when he accepts the bribe and tosses it into his mouth, plastic wrapper and all.
We pass through the tunnel that leads to the cave, then we slip through the entry and on past the den. Making our way down the long hall where we crowd into a semicircle, listening to, from what I can make out, some sort of initiation speech.
The words a bit muffled from where I stand, though I’m still able to discern things like: Great opportunity … rare blue tourmaline … a fortune to be made … free room and board … None of which leaves me with any more insight than I started with.
Though one thing’s for sure—the only fortune to be made will be for the Richters. These people won’t see a dime of it.
A moment later, we’re moving again. Pushing through the second wall that leads to the valley of sand, where we begin our trek across the desert terrain. My fellow travelers so glazed, so obedient, I wonder if they even realize what they’re doing, where it is they’re going. It’s as though they’re caught in a trance, programmed to do what they’re told and not to react to anything unusual.
When we reach the point where the hill crests and the ground gives way, I’m careful to shield myself from the mass of flailing limbs as we tumble toward the Lowerworld, where I leap to my feet and scramble behind a guy twice my size. Adjusting my hood so it shields the better part of my face, hoping to go unrecognized until I’m ready to be seen.
“Welcome!” Cade calls, his voice deep and sure. “I’m glad you all could make it—that you’ve decided to reach a little higher—do something more meaningful with your lives than spending your days slumping over the bar, getting sloshed out of your minds. Our cause is a great one, and you should be proud of your part in it…” He drones on, reciting a speech that’s completely unnecessary. These people are captive. His to command. There’s no reason to go on like he does, other than the fact that he loves to hear himself speak. Finally reaching the end when he says, “So, it’s time we get started. I see no reason to delay. But first—your uniforms.”
He reaches into a large cardboard box an undead Richter has placed by his side and goes about tossing heaps of black, short-sleeved T-shirts bearing a picture of him into the crowd, like he once tossed souls to the army of undead Richters.
“Take one and pass the rest,” he barks. “This is so you never forget who you’ve sworn fealty to.” His gaze grows darker as he takes in his subjects assembled before him.