Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(83)

Chapter 36


I race across the mesa, my legs churning, my feet flying. No clan power aids me, just terror, heartbreak, and the panic that I may be too late. My mind keeps replaying Ma’ii’s cruel confessions, but I don’t have time to process what he told me. To know how I’m supposed to feel. Some part of me knows I must be in shock, and I use that shred of reason to lock away the shrieking horrors of what Ma’ii has done to me for another day. Right now I have to help Kai.

“Stick to the plan,” I whisper to myself. “Nothing has changed. Stick to the plan.” The naayéé’ ats’os are a sliver of hope in what feels like a bad dream.

I run headlong into a nightmare.

The ground is littered with bodies. Blackened and burned corpses of monsters, all too human-looking in ashy silhouette. And then there are the dead humans themselves, a handful of blue fatigues distinctive against the charred remains of the creatures. Thirsty Boys. I push on, closer to the edge of the canyon where the truck sits. I can see them now, the handful of my allies still on their feet. Relief at first, that they are alive. And then, dread.

Clive kneels in front of Neizghání, the tip of Neizghání’s lightning sword poised at Clive’s throat. The Goodacre twin lists drunkenly, blood running freely from a huge gash in his head. Rissa’s trying desperately to drag her brother out of Neizghání’s reach. Kai stands beside the twins. The irises of his eyes bled out to a solid wall of quicksilver, the brown completely gone. His hands held out in front of him, fingers splayed as if straining to hold back an invisible tide. The air around him hums, heavy and fey. Dangerous.

One wrong word, one wrong move, and we die.

“Neizghání!”

His eyes flicker up to me, pools of the blackest night. The Thirsty Boys around us grip their guns and slide fingers closer to triggers.

I wade into the fray, hands raised. “Talk to me,” I say. I can feel the weight of stepping into the line of fire, of Kai’s elemental power building up, but I keep my eyes on Neizghání alone.

“The red-haired one attacked me,” he says. “I would not have harmed him. I came only when I smelled the monsters.”

“Then leave. The monsters are dead. Leave these people alone.”

He smiles, and even now, it feels like the first rays of light on a cold winter’s morning. “Ah, now that I cannot do.”

Someone in the Thirsty Boys ranks coughs, and we all jump, expecting a hail of gunfire that thankfully never comes.

I exhale, try to control K’aahanáanii’ that’s screaming that I’m in danger and I need to kill. Someone. Anyone. Everyone.

I struggle to keep my voice steady. “Did you know Ma’ii was making the monsters?” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I know you had nothing to do with it.”

His frown is a cloud passing over the sun. “Of course I had nothing to do with it.”

“I didn’t know. Ma’ii left clues. Lightning strikes. He made it look like it could be you.”

His brow furrows deeper. “The trickster has caused great suffering with his foolishness,” he acknowledges. “I will deal with him.”

“I already have.”

He looks surprised, but then his grin widens. “Chíníbaá.”

“So you know these people are not your enemies, Neizghání. Let them go.”

He pauses like he’s thinking. “Not that one.” He points his sword at Kai. The earth tips beneath me, threatens to tumble me over. I should have known, should have seen that Neizghání would consider Kai a threat. A rival. But there’s no way I’m handing him over to the Monsterslayer’s mercies.

“You can’t have him,” I say.

He laughs, melodious like spring thunder. “And who will stop me?”

“I will.”

His eyes travel up and down my body to rest on my left side. “How is the gift I gave you?”

My hand involuntarily goes to the lightning brand below my ribs, and then I immediately let it drop in the wake of his knowing smile.

“So that you would not forget me,” he says. “And so I can always find you.” He takes two steps forward. I fight the urge to move back, but hold my ground. If I exhale, our bodies will touch. I hold my breath. He leans in, conspiratorially, his hair swinging forward to brush my skin.

“I see he has already corrupted you.”

I stumble back, his words like a body blow. Does he know about the nights we spent together in Grace’s bed, the kiss we shared only yesterday?

He purses his lips, watching my face, but I can’t read what he’s thinking. “He is clever, Chíníbaá, and I will not hold your gullibility against you. But you must know that he—”

I shake my head. Back farther away. I can’t take another revelation, another betrayal. It will break me whole. “Don’t . . .”

He pauses, watching me. “Then ask him. Ask him yourself. Ask him why he is here. Why he insisted on becoming your partner.” He spits that last word with contempt.

“I don’t—”

“Ask him!”

I turn toward Kai. He’s released whatever power he was holding, but the air around is still heavy and charged, his eyes still silver-edged. He’s pale, sweaty, his perfect hair smeared back from his perfect face. “It’s not like that, Maggie.”