Fated (The Soul Seekers #1)(93)
Though unlike last time, there’s a strange chemical scent pervading the air that seems to intensify the farther we go. And it’s not long before Xotichl stops, tilts her head toward me, and whispers, “This is it.”
I stare at the wall, noting how it’s still soft, malleable, recently breached, with no sign of the demons, but that doesn’t mean they’re not waiting inside.
“You know you can’t join me,” I say, overcome by guilt for allowing her to take me this far and hoping she can find her way back unharmed.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m stronger than I look. I’ll deal with your mom, while you deal with Cade. And, Daire…” I look at her—see the way her lip trembles, surprising me when she says, “Go kick some Richter ass!”
I lunge toward the wall that’s already closing. Shoving right into it, bat first, pushing so hard it’s like merging into a solid wall of taffy—sticky, gooey, molding around me—until it finally gives way and I burst through, slamming headfirst into one of the demons—the big one who guards the vortex.
We stare at each other, the two of us momentarily stunned, until he growls so loudly it alerts the others to join him.
They surround me, their massive paws and razor-sharp nails swiping at me from all sides, leaving me no choice but to shake the cigarettes loose from the pack, toss them behind me, and bolt.
Glancing over my shoulder to see the demons dive after them, snarling and hissing in an effort to get to them first, I race for the tunnel that leads to the cave. The crash of my boots against the metal trilling too loudly, leaving me with no choice but to ditch them and tiptoe the rest of the way. Careful to keep my breath light, shallow—allowing only the briefest sigh of relief when I reach the end undetected and creep past the entry into a room lit by bright blazing torches. The frenetic lick of flames sparking and flaring in a way that illuminates the ribbons of strung marigolds and beads draped across the walls—the skeletons propped among the furniture with hand-painted skull masks secured to their heads—the usual Day of the Dead décor, but in here the effect is especially chilling.
That strong chemical scent growing in intensity, as I move through the rooms, forcing me to clasp one hand over my face to block out the smell, as the other clutches hard at the bat, and it’s then that I see him.
See them.
The whole lot of them wearing identical black-and-white skull masks with red dripping mouths—waiting for the party to begin.
Coyote sees me first. Ducking his head, he snarls in protest, as Cade stands before an elaborate altar draped with a starched white tablecloth, covered with flaming beeswax candles, decapitated marigold heads, a plate piled high with ornately decorated sugar skull candies, a crystal carafe filled with something resembling red wine but that could just as easily be blood, and at least a hundred black-and-white photos of blank smiling faces strewn along the top. His back turned, arms embracing a glowing metal container that floods the room with a brilliant spectrum of light.
“So you made it,” he says, not bothering to face me. Taking a moment to shush Coyote when he adds, “And just in time too. I knew you’d see the beauty of my plan. And now, because of it, the victory is ours to share.”
The undead Richters make horrible yipping sounds, as Cade turns, his eyes red and glowing behind his own gruesome skull mask that looks a lot like the demon face I know from the dream.
“Smell that?” He tosses his head back, makes a show of inhaling deeply. “It’s the sweet scent of insecticide. Had to spray the whole place. Seems a cockroach managed to sneak his way in just the other day.” His gaze levels on mine, flaring in amusement when he adds, “Wasn’t you, was it?”
I don’t reply. Don’t so much as flinch. I just secure the bat from his view and tighten my grip. Determined to at least give the appearance of holding my own, even though deep down inside, I’m quaking all the way to my toes.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve come. That you’ve decided to join me in a moment so great.” He hugs the container close to his chest. “The second it’s over, we’ll go straight to my father—though don’t be surprised if Leandro doesn’t accept you at first. He may even move in to kill you—but I’ll be right by your side and I won’t let that happen. Besides, once we’ve had a chance to explain it, once he sees for himself just how much we can accomplish by working together, I know he’ll see the brilliance of my plan.” He lifts his shoulders in a way that causes the orb to lift, surging so precariously toward the lip, it’s all I can do to remain rooted in place, to not rush forward and snatch it away. “This is the perfect ending to a ridiculous, primitive feud. It’s also a wonderful beginning to a partnership that’s long overdue. You see, Leandro had it all wrong. Not only did he fail by accidentally conjuring my aberration of a brother—but he failed to understand that the reason we’ve been unable to penetrate the Lowerworld for so long is because our souls have become too dark for admittance. And mine, as I’m sure you know, is the darkest of all.” His eyes flare with pride. “Then again, it’s the pure blackness of my soul that led me to them—the solution.”
He nods toward the gathering of undead Richters—the entire lot of them yipping and yelping with excitement over the meal to come. Their enthusiasm causing Cade to shout, “Silence! Can’t you see that I’m talking? Sheesh!” Shaking his head and returning to me as he says, “So anyway, where were we?”