The Kat Dubois Chronicles: The Complete Series (Echo World Book 2)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Heru raised an eyebrow.

  I sighed, looking away. “Fine,” I said, letting my arms drop to my sides. “I won’t show my face there. I promise.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I paced at the foot of my bed, one arm hugging my middle as I chewed on the thumbnail of my other hand. Every time I changed direction, I threw a furtive glance at the deck of tarot cards stacked on the comforter. My fingers itched to do a reading to find out if the latest dream had really been another echo, but panic fluttered in my chest every time I reached for the cards. What if I pulled The Tower again? Or Judgment? Or, worst of all, The Devil? What if the scenes depicted were the same as before? What if they were worse?

  I had to figure out a way to change the cards for the better. To change fate.

  “It’s not even a real thing,” I muttered. Fate didn’t exist, and nothing was predestined.

  “What isn’t real, little sister?” Dom asked.

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  My people knew, for a fact, that the future was never written in stone. Back when all Nejerets had had access to the echoes, those of us who could view the possible futures recognized those echoes for what they were—possibilities. There was no such thing as fate; there were just differing degrees of probability. There were if-thens, maybes, and probablys, but no absolutes.

  If I just knew how Isfet would pull the wool over my eyes, how she would turn deception into death, I could change course and stop it from ever happening. But I’d only spoken to her once, and the only other being I knew who might know something about her was Anapa—and his Netjer bias made him just as unreliable as Isfet herself.

  An idea tickled the edges of my mind. Were Isfet and Anapa really my only other sources of information? There was always the soul-energy . . . and the unique consciousnesses intermingling throughout that colorful miasma. Maybe I couldn’t trust most of them, but there was one who would always have my best interests at heart—my mom. And the last time her voice had come through, she’d made it pretty damn clear that she knew things I didn’t.

  I perched on the edge of the armchair in the corner of the room and placed my hands on my knees, closing my eyes. I reached out to the soul-energy, opening myself to it.

  Nothing happened. I was too agitated.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth, trying my hardest to clear my thoughts, but it was about as useful as when I tried to will myself to sleep during my infrequent bouts of insomnia. I blew out a breath and opened my eyes, fingers clawing my knees. I needed to blow off some steam. Maybe then I’d be able to get through to the soul-energy. To my mom.

  Even so, the urge to know more—about Isfet, about the danger on the horizon, about my prophesied death, about my growing connection to the universe and what it was doing to me, about the latest dream and the shadows and the school, about countless things—became all-encompassing. I stood and stalked over to the bed, snatching the card off the top of the tarot deck before I could talk myself out of it.

  The Devil. The design on the card looked much the same as before, only this time, Isfet looked less like my mom and a hell of a lot more like me.

  I hissed and dropped the card before I could get a good look at it, backing away double-time. My butt hit the dresser, and Mercy rattled atop it. I reached behind me, grabbing the sword’s sheath without looking, stuffed my feet into my combat boots, and hurried to the bedroom door. Once I was in the hallway, I knelt and hastily tied my boots, then jogged downstairs and out into the fresh morning air.

  It was drizzling, the sky its usual winter gray. Gravel crunched under my boots, my steps quieting when I reached the mulchy trail to the beach. By the time I made it to the other end of the trail, the rain had picked up and my sweatshirt was nearly soaked through. I stepped one boot onto the rocky beach, and then I froze.

  Nik stood at the water’s edge, hands in the pockets of his long leather coat, the incoming wave just reaching the toes of his boots. “Hey, Kitty Kat,” he said without looking at me.

  I considered turning tail and running right back the way I’d come. Considered it, but didn’t do it. I hated the idea of following up one act of cowardice with another. Instead, my feet carried me down the beach, like some invisible force was pulling me toward Nik.

  He withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his left pocket. He placed a cigarette between his lips and returned the pack to his pocket, then lit the cigarette and returned the lighter, too.

  I stopped a few paces behind him. “What are you doing out here?”

  He took a deep draw on his cigarette. “Searching for words,” he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. He lowered his hand, the cigarette trailing a delicate chimney of smoke from between his fingers.

  “Huh . . .” I took a few more steps, coming to stand beside him, and squinted out at the choppy surface of the Puget Sound. “Find anything?”

  “Plenty,” he said. “But I’m not sure they’re the right ones.” I could feel his eyes on me. “What about you—out here to blow off some steam?” I looked at him, and he glanced down at Mercy, her sheath still gripped in my left hand.

  I shrugged.

  Nik turned to face me. “Up for a rematch?”

  I raised my eyebrows. Last time we’d fought—back in that cave out in the woods of Port Madison—he’d kicked my ass. The baser part of my mind craved redemption.

  “You might even be able to beat me with all your fancy new powers.”

  “No sheuts,” I said, the image of Isfet wearing my face far too fresh in my mind to make me willing to draw on the very powers that connected me to her. “No powers. No weapons—at all,” I added, tossing Mercy down onto the rocks. “Just you and me.”

  “Alright . . .” Nik dropped his half-smoked cigarette onto the beach, then shrugged out of his jacket. “Deal.” He rolled up his coat and set it down on top of Mercy, then backed away and rolled his neck. He bent his knees, dropping naturally into an easy ready position. “Show me what you got.”

  We fought, hard, skidding and sliding on the rocks and leaping over pieces of driftwood. I’d only fought Nik one other time without him tapping into his innate sheut abilities—back at the shop, when he’d first sauntered back into my life—and once again, I was amazed by how evenly matched we were when limited to our own bodies for weapons. He had thousands of years on me—thousands of years more experience—but all of that experience had been with his sheut, too. He wasn’t used to relying on only his physical body.

  I, on the other hand, was.

  I almost had him a couple times, once with him on his knees at the water’s edge, sea-foam licking at my boots and his jeans, and again with him bent awkwardly over a large, gnarly piece of driftwood. But in the end, Nik’s strength won out. He grappled me down onto the ground on my belly, his limbs trapping my arms and legs and his forearm pressing into my throat, cutting off my air supply. I had about twenty seconds until I lost consciousness.

  “Un—cle,” I gasped, the single word broken and barely audible.

  Nik relaxed his hold on me, and I rolled out from under him, crouching down on one knee as I waited for the blood rush to abate. Even through the dizziness, I was amazed at how invigorated I felt. The headache that had been plaguing me off and on this past week was still gone, and I felt energized and recharged as though I’d just woken from a perfect night’s sleep, which was far from the truth. Apparently, some solid exertion was just what the doctor ordered.

  Kneeling a few feet away, Nik slicked his hair back and cracked his neck, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Sure you don’t want to try again . . . with sheuts? Get all glowy and you might even be able to beat me . . .”

  I pressed my lips together, placing my hand on my knee and pushing up to my feet. “No thanks.” I turned my back to him and scanned the beach for our discarded things. Mercy and Nik’s coat were maybe fifty yards away. I headed that way.

  “C’mon, Kitty Kat,” Nik said. I could hear his footsteps crunching in the roc
ks behind me. “You’ve got to work out and train your sheut as much as you do your body. How else will you ever figure out all you can do?”

  I balled my hands into fists, steps turning into stomps.

  “You think I discovered all that my sheut is capable of by sitting around not using it?”

  It was a stupid question, so I didn’t even consider answering.

  “I had to train. To experiment and explore. To push myself.”

  I reached our little pile of things and toed Nik’s leather jacket aside, then bent down to scoop up my sword.

  “I can help you,” he told me.

  “No thanks,” I repeated, shrugging into the scabbard’s worn leather harness. The more I used my powers, the more I felt myself turning into that image of Isfet towering over my own decrepit body. That last glimpse of The Devil assured that my ever-increasing powers were off-limits until I figured out Isfet’s true intentions.

  Now that I’d burned off most of my agitation through good old-fashioned exertion, I felt a sense of clarity. Even reaching out to the soul-energy using my connection to the universe seemed too risky; anything that would strengthen the universe’s hold on me through those ever-thickening veins of At and anti-At was too risky.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a long, deep breath, and then I finished buckling the harness. I’d have to find another way to get the answers I needed.

  “But your powers have been expanding exponentially,” Nik persisted. “With all of the At and anti-At running through your ba, aren’t you curious about what you’re capable of? I sure as hell am . . .”

  I looked at him sidelong, jaw clenched in irritation. Why couldn’t he just drop it? “I’m not in the mood, Nik.” I started up toward the trail leading back to the house. I was not running away; I was simply relocating to a less annoying location.

  Nik grabbed my arm, stopping my retreat. “Well, get in the mood, because it’s too dangerous for you to be sitting on all of that uncontrolled power.”

  I rolled my eyes, tugging my arm, but his grip was unyielding. “Let go,” I demanded.

  He tightened his hold on my arm until it was just this side of too painful. “You’re seeing echoes again, but they’re still closed off to the rest of us.”

  “You don’t know they’re closed off to the rest of you for sure.”

  He raised his eyebrows, the bar through his left brow glinting in the morning light. “Trust me, Kitty Kat, I tried to get into the echoes all morning. You’re the only one. What if it doesn’t stop there? What if you can move through time, too? What if you accidentally jump into the past and get trapped there? Then what?”

  I ground my teeth together.

  “That shit is dangerous as fuck, Kat. Don’t forget about what happened to Lex—she had all of the power of a Netjer and she still barely made it back alive.”

  I fought a frown. She hadn’t actually made it back alive. It had taken sixteen years and the combined power of two young Netjers—her children, Susie and Syris—to revive her.

  “Let me help you explore what you’re capable of.” Nik released my arm, then uttered a word I didn’t think I had ever heard him say before, at least not with that level of sincerity brightening his pale blue irises, turning them to quicksilver. “Please.”

  “I just—I don’t want to,” I said, looking up at the mouth of the trail but staying where I was. “I can’t.”

  Nik’s iron features softened. “This is who you are now, Kitty Kat. Stop running from it. Embrace it.”

  I stomped my foot. “It’s not who I am!”

  It wasn’t anything I’d been born with; it was what the universe was making me into. It wasn’t natural. It was a mistake. An accident. It was something that had been done to me . . . something that had started nearly twenty years ago, when Nik sent all of that At into my body to save me from the anti-At slowly eroding my soul.

  “It’s who you made me!”

  Nik narrowed his eyes to slits and opened his mouth, but I barreled onward before he could get a word in.

  I took a step toward him. “I never wanted this, Nik. I never wanted any of it. All I ever wanted was to be a normal Nejeret.” I threw my arms up. “Or an abnormal one who would never grow up. Hell, I’d rather be a human than this. Anything would be better than this.” I lowered my arms, taking another step toward him. “You’re curious about what I can do? Well, I’m not. I want it out of me. I want it gone.”

  I took one last step toward him, stopping well within his personal bubble and angling my face up toward his. “I wish you hadn’t saved me. I wish you’d just let me die.”

  Twice he’d saved my life when death was imminent, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I—if the whole world—would be better off without me. At least it would be less complicated. Sure, tons of people would’ve died of the Cascade Virus and the war between Heru and the Senate may have destroyed our people, but who’s to say those outcomes wouldn’t be better than whatever’s going to happen when—if—I break Isfet free from her prison? Or, if I left her in there, better than what would happen when Isfet’s looming danger arrived and she wasn’t there to stop it? With all of the changes happening inside me giving me access to a terrifying amount of power, part of me wondered if maybe, just maybe, that danger was me.

  For someone who had visions of the future, I couldn’t have had less of a clue as to what was going to happen.

  Nik crossed his arms over his chest, his pierced eyebrow arching higher. “Feel better?”

  I glared up at him. Ranting had made me feel a little better, and that pissed me off all the more.

  “Now that you’ve got the woe-is-me pity party out of your system, maybe you could stop sulking around all day and get back to doing shit that matters. I believe there’s a school that needs saving . . .”

  “But I can’t—”

  That brow arched higher.

  I snapped my mouth shut and huffed a breath out through my nose. Damn it, but he was right. Just because I’d made Heru a promise not to go back to the school didn’t mean I couldn’t help in other ways. Maybe I wouldn’t be the one to battle the shadows, but maybe I could get my people the information they would need to win. After all, I had access to a trustworthy information source that nobody else could reach—my mom—and I hadn’t done everything in my power to reach her. There was a way to do it without strengthening the universe’s hold on my soul.

  All I had to do was die.

  There was always the chance that Isfet would show up once I was in Duat, but you know . . . desperate times, desperate measures.

  Maybe this was my role in this shadow situation. Like Heru said, it’s not all always about me.

  I turned and stalked up the beach toward the trailhead.

  “Where are you going?” Nik called after me.

  “To do shit that matters.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What are you doing?” Dom asked as I pulled the mirror pendant off over my head, moving my hair out of the way of the leather cord. Well over a month ago, when I first stuck his soul in the mirrors, Dom and I had struck a deal—I would only cut off his tie to me by removing the mirror pendant for one reason and one reason only: sex. He didn’t want to witness that, and I sure as hell didn’t want my half-brother as an audience.

  I hadn’t had to invoke the agreement all that often as of late. Or at all. Things had pretty much dried up where my sex life was concerned, with my recent fling with Garth being the one smoldering ember in my otherwise passionless existence. After him, my usual MO where getting laid was concerned—namely sticking with one-night-stands—just didn’t hold the same appeal. Besides, I’d been way too busy dealing with the frightening and increasingly cumbersome repercussions of dying to go on actually living.

  Dom knew all of that—or, at least, most of it—as well as I did, which is probably why he was so baffled by my answer.

  “I need to blow off some steam,” I told him, holding the pendant up so I could see his miniatu
re visage.

  “But . . .” Dom shook his head. “Where will you go? Everyone knows you now . . .”

  I shrugged into my leather coat. “I’m sure I can find someone willing and eager to satisfy ‘the Goddess.’” Even saying those words made me feel skeezy, and I suppressed an ick-inspired shiver.

  “And then they will tell the whole world about it.”

  I set my jaw. “Let me deal with that.”

  “But—”

  “What I do with my lady bits is not up for discussion, Dom. This is happening. Deal with it.” I set the pendant down on my nightstand, silencing him by our lack of contact. Guilt riddled me; I hated lying to him, but if I told him what I was up to, he would try to stop me any way that he could.

  In a last-minute decision, I grabbed the drawstring bag containing my tarot cards and stuffed it into my coat pocket before heading for the bedroom door.

  I hurried downstairs, making a beeline for the door to the basement laboratory where Neffe, Aset, and my current target, Mari, spent most of their waking hours studying the Cascade Virus. I may have eradicated it from the human population with the help of the soul-energy a few weeks back, but we still didn’t fully understand what it had done to those infected or how it worked. Even Mari, who’d helped engineer the damn virus, didn’t understand why it had been so devastating . . . and so impossible to cure.

  I hurried down the basement stairs and burst into the lab. Mari was sitting on her usual stool at the center workstation, lab coat buttoned up and oversized protective goggles dwarfing her face as she dripped some neon green liquid from a pipette into a petri dish. Whatever was in the dish fizzled and popped for a few seconds, then went quiet.

  “Ballsack!” Mari exclaimed, slapping a hand down on the counter.

  “Having issues?” I asked, sidling up to her. I stole her discarded stool and sat.

  She looked at me, mouth pinched into a little rosebud, then yanked her goggles off her face and tossed them onto the counter. “This stupid virus doesn’t react to anything the way it’s supposed to. It’s like it can’t even be bothered to follow the natural laws of physics and chemistry.”