Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(86)

“Yeah, well . . . ,” I say, trying to sound like my heart’s not crushed, like I’m not about to puke my guts out seeing Kai lying in the dirt with a hole in his heart, his blood seeping from his body, just like in my nightmares.

I can’t stay there. I need to move. I take off walking, no idea where. Just . . . away. Neizghání follows. Touches my arm when I finally stop. Déjà vu hits me like a fucking hammer. We are at Black Mesa all over again. The one from before, with other bodies at my feet. Other men’s blood on my hands.

“Do you wonder why I kissed you, Chíníbaá?” he asks. “In the fighting arena. You haven’t even asked.”

I turn. He’s too close. His eyes hold all the secrets in the world. His lips are almost on mine. I swallow the sudden flood of moisture in my mouth, fight the lightness in my head. My hands are shaking. From desire or terror, I’m not sure.

“I—I . . . ,” I stutter uselessly. He smells like lightning, heat and ozone. Power. I cling to the memory of Kai. Of cool mountain waters and a healing calm. But it’s tainted now. A crack wide enough to let Neizghání in.

His voice is a fierce whisper. “It is because in that moment, you were magnificent and I saw you. I saw you. I will not forget it. Chíníbaá. The girl who comes forth fighting.” He cups my cheek in his hand, his palm hot against my skin.

I remember the kiss from the arena. The brutal crush of his lips against mine, the sharp coppery taste of blood, the hot metallic iron. “You tasted of death,” I whisper.

He grins, savage and achingly beautiful. “As did you, Chíníbaá. It is what we share, this taste of death. I will not question it again.” He touches the place below my heart, where he branded me. “You are mine.”

He takes a step back and holds out a hand to me.

And I realize it’s not too late. I could take his hand and join him again in the slaughter. Forget Kai. Forget my crazy plan. I could tuck myself safely under Neizghání’s wing again and remain his favored pupil. Feel his mouth on mine again. The promise of a future together is still there, tantalizing. The thought is so tempting that it makes me dizzy.

But there’s something I want more than Neizghání. Even more than Kai.

I do not take his hand. Instead, I gesture for him to go first.

When he turns his back to me, I pull the bag that holds the naayéé’ ats’os from my waistband. Rip the drawstrings open and pull the hoops out. They are exactly as I remember them. Neither heavy nor light, feathered and slightly warm to the touch. Seeing them makes my idea seem even more insane, but it’s the only chance I have. I stretch the rainbow-flecked one big enough so that it will fit.

Neizghání still has his back to me. I move before I can change my mind. Reach up and slide the hoop up and over his head. It circles around his neck. I watch in fascination as it tightens, quick as a dare, around his throat.

I step back, Glock ready. Watch, finger on the trigger. I know even at close range my gun won’t kill him, but it may slow him down. Which is ridiculous. Even if I can slow him down, it will only delay my own death, because surely he will kill me for this treachery. No, this has to work. Or else.

He stumbles forward and then turns toward me, his sword clattering to the ground as he reaches to paw at the hoop tightening around his throat. His feet slide out from under him, and he has to catch himself with one hand to keep from falling. He frowns, his eyebrows drawing up in confusion.

I quickly move around him in a wide circle, placing the rings in their cardinal places. East, north, west, and south. A shudder rocks his body as I place the last ring, and he falls to his knees like he is being pulled down by invisible ropes. He tries to grab me, his fingers flexing spastically, but I easily move out of his reach. His head droops, like he can’t lift it anymore.

“What is this?” He splutters and coughs as his long raven hair falls around him.

“I’m sorry . . .” I can barely make the words come out.

“What have you done to me?”

He hangs there helplessly as I drag his lightning sword out of reach. The blade is as light as freedom and as heavy as grief, but my palm wraps around the hilt like it was meant for me. I holster my gun in favor of the sword, in case Kai was wrong and I have to take his head.

“Chíníbaá,” he stammers. His onyx eyes dart to the sword and then back to me. “Are you betraying me?” His voice is incredulous. “But you killed him for me. What are you doing?”

“I’m not sure,” I whisper, “but you were right. When I kissed you, all I tasted was death. And I think I want more than that, Neizghání. I think I want life, too. And love. A love that doesn’t try to kill me.”

His thick brows furrow, like I’m not making sense, and maybe I’m not. “You cannot bind me like this forever. I will be free, and then you will have to answer for what you have done.” He’s starting to thrash. Pulling harder against the power that restrains but with even less success as the naayéé’ ats’os steal away his strength. “Remember all that I have done for you,” he hisses at me, his tone turning cruel in desperation. “I made you what you are.”

“I know. For better or worse, I know.” And Ma’ii’s words come to me. “But there’s a little girl I need to save.”