Fated (The Soul Seekers #1)(72)

I pick up the pace, sneaking dangerously close to Cade’s heels but feeling pretty good about the move until he stops without warning and I slam so hard into the back of his big brown boot, it takes a moment to reorient myself.

I’m just about to scramble backward in a bid to keep a safer distance between us, when I realize we’re here.

Watching as Cade waves the smoldering tip of his cigarette before what at first appears to be a large blank wall—but that’s before I remember Paloma’s advice and train my focus on the invisible, the unknown—coaxing it into my immediate field of consciousness—and it’s not long before that brick wall has morphed into something entirely different.

And all I can think as I gaze at it wide-eyed is that Paloma was right.

The portal looks nothing like I would’ve imagined.





thirty-five

Cade stops. Stiffens. His spine straightening, head tilting as though he senses something out of place—something out of the ordinary.

Could it be me?

He turns a slow circle, head swiveling from side to side, gaze running the length of the hall. And when he lowers his gaze to the ground where I wait, I take my chances, spread my wings, and flit toward his pant leg. Assuring myself I can easily extricate my way out of the situation if necessary—all I have to do is sever the bond and I’ll find myself right back in the bathroom, no worse for the wear.

Though I’m not sure I believe it.

I’m in deep.

Maybe too deep.

It’s as though the cockroach and I are now one.

I cling to the hem of Cade’s jeans, keeping silent and still while he shakes his head, mutters under his breath, and moves forward again. Then I scurry up the back of his leg where I stop at his waistband and sneak halfway into his belt loop, hoping for a more secure ride and a much better view.

My eyes dart like crazy, taking note of all the details—ugly, greenish/gray industrial carpet, hideous white walls that have seen so much tobacco smoke waved before them they’re streaked a dull yellow/brown. Desperate to find something that sets it apart from all the other hallways I’ve seen but coming up empty. No wonder most Seekers couldn’t find it—it’s something extraordinary hidden well within the confines of the painfully ordinary.

He stands before the wall—or at least the place where the wall was before it became a soft, yielding, grayish-tinged swirl of energy that’s neither welcoming nor unwelcoming but definitely intriguing.

Paloma’s warning repeating in my head: Under no circumstance should you enter. You’re not yet ready—there will be plenty of time for that later …

Though it’s too late to heed—we’re already in.

The first thing I notice is the darkness.

The second thing I notice is the demons.

Two huge, scary, malevolent beings with the requisite tails, hooves, and horns you’d expect, along with obscenely grotesque faces that appear to be a mixture of animal, human, and some other unidentifiable beast that originated in a place I prefer not to visit.

Cade stands before them, greeting them in an ancient tongue I can’t understand. Presenting the cigarette like some kind of offering, he tosses it to the larger one who wastes no time shoving it into his mouth and devouring it whole—smoldering tip and all—as the other beast looks on with unconcealed envy. His blatant hunger causing me to burrow even deeper into Cade’s belt loop, assuming that if they’ll eat burning cigarettes, they’ll have no qualms eating a cockroach.

Cade speaks, but again the words make no sense. Though whatever it was, it got the demons laughing—if you can call hideous, gaping, fanged mouths flapping wide open before snapping shut again laughing. Then after a few more words are exchanged, he nods and moves past them. His step echoing so loudly, it’s as though we’re moving through a hollow tin drum, and it’s only a moment later when I venture out a little farther, take a good look around, and confirm that we are.

It’s a long, hollow tube—the kind they use to build sewers. The soles of Cade’s shoes banging hard against the bottom, making for a sound that’s so unsettling, so unpleasant, I’m overcome with relief when he steps out of the tunnel and onto a dirt-covered area that marks the mouth of a cave.

But unlike the small, spartan cave of my vision quest, this one is large, seeming to ramble and sprawl without end. Consisting of a series of rooms—very well-appointed rooms from what I can see. The one we currently occupy posing as some kind of grand entry.

Cade slips two fingers into his mouth and whistles long and low. Then he waits. Waits for … something. I can’t imagine who or what he expects to find here, though I’m braced for more demons.

But when I see a long-nosed, red-eyed coyote racing toward him—I’m not one bit surprised. Of course El Coyote isn’t just a name—it’s his spirit animal, just as Raven is mine.

Coyote leaps toward him, plops his long, gangly legs up high on his chest as he nuzzles his snout into Cade’s neck. His nose pushing, prodding, sniffing—then, catching a whiff of something unexpected, he darts his face toward me, bares his sharp teeth, and growls.

With no way to defend myself, I burrow into Cade’s belt loop, all too aware that this hard shell of a body will do nothing more than provide a nice, satisfying crunch once Coyote’s had his way with me.

“Hey, boy—how’s my boy? Huh? How’s my boy?” Cade pushes Coyote’s paws back to the ground, scratching his head and ruffling his fur like a favored family pet. Then he straightens, pats the side of his leg in a way that urges Coyote to follow. The two of them bounding deeper into the cave until they come to a well-furnished den, where Cade uses his silver-and-turquoise lighter to set the wall torches blazing.