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

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  When I turned to Nik, I found that his pale blue eyes were locked on me, his stare intense. It was almost like he was studying me. Like he was waiting for me to break down.

  “What?”

  Nik didn’t respond. He just kept staring at me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was pissed off that I’d dragged him into this right along with me. Well, he could join the club, because I was pretty pissed off about it too.

  His scrutiny quickly made me feel self-conscious, and I turned away from him once more. I moved closer to the nightstand, wondering if Anapa had been so detailed in recreating my room—my prison cell—that he’d included a replica of my deck of tarot cards. They wouldn’t work the same way as my actual deck of tarot cards because I hadn’t made them, but it would be comforting to feel even a dummy version of the deck in my hands, regardless.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the drawer handle, but when I pulled the drawer open, I found that it was empty. I exhaled heavily. “Of course,” I said under my breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Nik asked.

  Besides everything? I laughed bitterly. “Nothing,” I said without looking at him.

  I shut the drawer and stood, moving to the dresser. I ran my hand over the top of the dresser, soothed by the smooth, faintly grooved surface. I trailed my fingertips along the wood grains until I reached the end of the dresser and jumped my fingers to the standing mirror, letting them glide around the top of the frame. It was impossible not to search the depths of the looking glass for Dom, even though I knew I wouldn’t find him in there.

  As I moved past the mirror, I drew closer to the window. It showed the usual view of the thick forest of pines and evergreens and the Puget Sound beyond. But the view was too static. The blue-gray water was a solid mass, no movement to it all. Just another reminder of where I was. And where I wasn’t.

  As I stared out the window, a thought struck me. Maybe getting me out of my universe had been the plan all along. Maybe there was no trial, no High Council. Maybe I’d walked straight into a trap, eyes open but sight unseeing.

  Without me in my home universe, there was no way for Isfet to break out of Aaru. She would remain a prisoner there for the rest of time, and the Netjers could march right on in to my universe and do whatever the hell they wanted. The threat on the horizon, the big scary thing she’d been warning me about, would happen, and nobody would be able to do a damn thing about it.

  Because I was here. Because I’d abandoned everyone in my universe. Because maybe, just maybe, I’d been duped.

  I was too frustrated for words. I didn’t think I’d ever been so pissed off at myself. With a howl, I slammed my fist into that artificial window. I felt the sharp pain of some of the bones in my hand cracking, but the window didn’t break. It didn’t even have the decency to crack. It might have looked like a glass window, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. It was a made-up thing. A fake. Everything in here was.

  Nik placed his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me. “Calm down, Kitty Kat. There’s no need to hurt yourself. We’ll figure a way out of this. Trust me. We just need to be calm. To think.”

  I hung my head, holding my now-throbbing hand to my chest. It would heal, but it would take a while. Besides, that physical pain dulled in comparison to my wounded pride. I hated that Nik had seen me give in to hopelessness like that.

  “Maybe you’ll feel better if we talk through what you should and shouldn’t tell the High Council . . .”

  I shook my head weakly. “That definitely won’t help.” It would likely do the opposite, sending me spiraling deeper into the throes of panic and tossing any chance of level-headed thinking out the window.

  “Well then, come on . . . lie down with me,” he said, directing me toward the bed. “Who knows how long we’ll be in here. Let’s get some rest, and then we’ll be able to brainstorm with clear heads.”

  All the fight left my body, and I let Nik turn me around. He put pressure on my shoulders, and I bent my knees, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I was suddenly exhausted. I scooted back on the bed and lay down on my side, curling my knees up and hugging them to my chest. The waistband of my slacks pinched my skin, and I silently wished for some sweats and an oversized T-shirt.

  As Nik settled behind me, I closed my eyes and focused on taking deep, even breaths, timing them off of the pulse throbbing in my wounded hand.

  Slowly, my thoughts settled, and I was able to recognize that Nik was right. There had to be a way out of this. There was always a way out.

  We just had to find it.

  Chapter Eight

  Somehow, I managed to fall asleep.

  When I woke, I had zero sense of how long I’d been out. Nik was still behind me, his arm draped over my side. I raised my head to look out the window, but that stagnant view of the Puget Sound was exactly the same as it had been before. I wouldn’t find any clues as to how much time had passed from the scene “outside”—that fake sun glowing dimly behind those artificial clouds hadn’t moved an inch.

  I hadn’t dreamed while I was asleep, at least not that I could remember. Which meant no echoes—no visions of what the future might bring. I wondered if being outside of my universe meant I had no powers at all. Was I entirely without magic? I’d been wishing I could go back to being a normal Nejeret for weeks—months, even—but not like this. I hadn’t wished to be rendered utterly powerless. Talk about being careful what you wish for . . . I closed my eyes and focused inward, seeking out that special part of my soul that allowed me to wield universal energies in a way that could only be called magic.

  Sensing my sheut, I exhaled in relief. Even better, I could still feel the threads of At and anti-At marbling my ba. If I could just figure out how to reach out across the vast distance from here to my universe and reconnect with those primal energies, I would be able to shake this powerless feeling. I would be able to take some minimal amount of control back into my own hands. Then, this whole situation might feel a little less impossible to deal with.

  Opening my eyes, I craned my neck to get a look at Nik’s face. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with the deep, even breaths of sleep.

  Ever so carefully, I slid out from under his arm, tucking it against his chest before moving away from the bed. I needed to think, not sleep. And I always thought best when I was moving.

  I started to pace back and forth across the room, stretching out and flexing the fingers of my right hand. I was pleased to find it had healed completely while I slept. My stomach groaned, a reminder that I would need food soon to replenish the energy my body had used to heal itself. Not that there was anything I could do about that now.

  As I moved around the room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that coming here had been a mistake, whatever Anapa had sworn about my willing participation in this “trial” being the only thing standing between my universe and certain destruction. At this point, I was having serious doubts about there even being a trial. Anapa had never lied to me before, but that didn’t mean much. Our history was more like a brochure than a textbook. I barely knew the guy. The god. Maybe he’d made it all up just to get me here. But why?

  My universe had been near catastrophe time and time again in the past, but my sister Lex, who’d been at the center of the last save-the-universe struggle, hadn’t ever been approached by Anapa or any other Netjer threatening potential universal destruction. Why now?

  It had to have something to do with Isfet and my connection to her. But why did that matter to the Netjers? They’d trapped her in Aaru at the inception of my universe, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was why. Were they afraid of her? Was that what this was all about?

  I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense. All Isfet wanted was to protect my universe. It was self-defense, really, since the universe was technically her body.

  I reached the armoire and turned, heading back toward the dresser, letting logic lead my thoughts. If Isfet protectin
g my universe was the thing the Netjers were trying to prevent, then that meant that, for whatever reason, the Netjers wanted to harm my universe.

  I stopped dead, staring at the wall behind the dresser. “Holy shit,” I breathed. That was it. The Netjers needed to make sure that my universe couldn’t defend itself.

  It was a terrifying realization. But it was the truth—it had be—which made the realization strangely comforting as well. I knew what I had to do now. I needed to find a way to get back to my universe and free Isfet, as soon as possible, no matter what. If I didn’t, then the Netjers would eventually come after my universe with malice in their hearts. They would attack us, and without Isfet free to defend us, we would lose. The logic didn’t lie.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet if you keep at it like that,” Nik said.

  I glanced at him, but I didn’t stop pacing. When I reached the dresser, I turned and headed back toward the armoire. “It’s not even real carpet,” I said. “It’s probably made of the same stuff as the dome was—Essence, or whatever you called it.” I reached the armoire and turned back to the dresser.

  “Yeah, I know,” Nik said, moving to the edge of the bed. He swept his hair back with a hand, then stretched his neck, first one way, then the other. “So, what’s on your mind?”

  I pressed my lips together, frustrated for the gazillionth time about that damn gag order Re and Apep put in place in my universe to keep anyone from talking about Isfet.

  And then I stopped and turned to face Nik, eyes opening wide. I wasn’t in my universe anymore. Which meant there was no gag order, not here. For the first time ever, I could tell somebody about Isfet. I could tell somebody about everything I’d been dying—literally, sometimes—to share over the past few weeks.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” I said as I rushed over to Nik, sitting on the bed beside him and taking one of his hands in mine. “I’ve wanted to tell you about this for so long,” I said, the words tumbling out as I squeezed his hand. “So much has happened, so much insane, crazy shit—stuff I couldn’t talk about until now.”

  Nik’s eyes searched mine. “Alright,” he said, “I’m listening.”

  I took a deep breath. I was so excited to finally confide in someone that I was shaking. “It all started when I died . . .”

  Chapter Nine

  “So you see,” I said, finally winding down from the whole epic tale of my entanglement with Isfet, “she’s our only option. Whatever happens here, she’s the only one who can truly protect our universe. We have to get back home ASAP.” I shook my head, exhaling in frustration. “We never should’ve come in the first place, but I couldn’t see it then . . .” When Anapa first showed up in Rome, I’d been too preoccupied by the whole threat of our universe being severed to work through the truth of the matter. Now, it was clear as day.

  “Wow,” Nik said, voice monotone and stare faraway. Slowly, he extricated his hand from mine and smoothed back his hair. His expression was absolutely unreadable.

  “What? Do you think I’m wrong?” I studied his face, trying to read some hint of what he was feeling. Of what he was thinking. But those perfect, angular features were truly inscrutable. No raised eyebrow. No smirk or sneer. Not even a mischievous sparkle in his eye. Was he in shock?

  Probably. I had just dumped a massive amount of holy shit–worthy information onto his lap.

  I touched his shoulder gently. “Nik?”

  After a few more seconds, he inhaled deeply and looked at me. “I think you’re right, Kat, but . . . it’s just a lot to take in,” he said. “I wish you hadn’t—” He fell silent, shaking his head.

  I tilted my head to the side. “You wish I hadn’t what?”

  He looked away, expression returning to that stony, inscrutable state. Finally, his lips parted and he breathed in to speak. But whatever it was that he wished I hadn’t would have to wait.

  There was a whooshing sound, and we both looked to the empty wall where my bedroom door would have been. A circular opening was forming in its place.

  Once the doorway was fully formed and about seven feet tall and nearly as wide, Anapa stepped through. He was carrying a stack of folded-up clothes, including blue jeans and a black leather coat and what looked a hell of a lot like my favorite pair of combat boots. Had he brought me my actual clothes? Or were these reproductions, too?

  I eyed the bundle in his hands for a moment, but I couldn’t suppress the urge to glance at the doorway. It was so close. Freedom was just through there . . . and a universe away.

  My longing for home must have shown on my face, because Anapa closed the doorway with a sweep of his hand. In a blink, it was gone.

  I returned my focus to Anapa, placing one hand on my hip and cocking it to the side. “I wasn’t going to make a break for it,” I said, and I actually meant it.

  I might not have been the queen of planning ahead, but even I could recognize the wisdom in scouting out the surroundings of my artfully disguised prison cell before I just ran out into gods knew what. This cell could’ve been in a bubble floating along through space for all I knew.

  Anapa raised his eyebrows, just a little. “For your own sake, Katarina, I hope you speak the truth. It would be unwise . . .”

  “Yeah, I’m aware.” I sent a meaningful look to the stack of clothes in his hands. “Are those for me?”

  “Ah, yes.” Anapa stepped further into the room, making his way toward me. He held out the clothes in offering. “I thought you might be more comfortable in your usual attire.”

  I took the stack from his hands, frowning. “Yeah, I will,” I said, itching to shed my slacks and blouse and don something normal. “Thanks.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. First Anapa had gone to the trouble of creating a pretty damn perfect replica of my bedroom, and then he’d brought me my actual clothes. He’d traveled all the way back to my universe, rifled through the piles of clean-ish clothing on my bedroom floor, found a pretty good approximation of my usual outfit—from the looks of it, he’d even found my favorite pair of jeans—and then brought it all across multiple universes to me. To make me feel comfortable.

  It was like he genuinely cared. Like he just might actually be on my side. Or, at least, not completely against me. My gut told me that was the case, but the circumstances suggested otherwise. Or was this how Stockholm Syndrome started?

  I took a single step backward, eyeing Anapa and hugging my things to my chest. “What’s your angle?” I asked, eyes narrowing to speculative slits.

  I wasn’t free to move about on my own, which made me a prisoner. That was very clear. But as far as the accommodations went, I was being treated like a guest. So, which was it? Because it couldn’t be both.

  Anapa stared at me for a few seconds, then looked to Nik, who was standing on the opposite side of the bed, but he quickly returned his attention to me. “My angle?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t—”

  “Uh-uh.” I took another backward step. “Don’t play dumb, Anapa. You know exactly what I mean, so what’s the deal? Where’s your loyalty—with me or with the High Council?” After a brief pause, I added, “What’s the outcome you’re pulling for?”

  “I . . .” Anapa turned away from me and made that increasingly familiar hand gesture toward the wall, creating a doorway. “I should leave you to change,” he said, already walking toward the opening.

  “Anapa, please,” I blurted, “wait!”

  “I’ll return in a few minutes,” he said, ignoring my pleas.

  And then he was gone, and the doorway disappeared a few seconds later.

  I exhaled in a breathy, humorless laugh. Fat lot of good that had done. I was just as clueless as ever and even more confused. I glanced down at the clothes in my arms. But at least I would look good when I met the High Council. At least I would look like me.

  Chapter Ten

  “Bummer he didn’t bring anything for you,” I told Nik. I was sitting on the foot of the bed, bent over to
tie the laces of my boots.

  Shortly after Anapa left, Nik had returned to the armchair in the corner. He now sat with his elbows propped up on the chair’s arms, his fingers steepled together in front of his chin. Not that he needed different clothes. He looked damn good in that suit; he just didn’t look like him.

  “I’ll survive,” Nik said, lowering his hands to grip the ends of the chair’s arms once more.

  I stared at him, studying his familiar features in an attempt to gauge his current state of mind. I’d found myself doing that a lot here. But once again, I came up empty.

  “What’s up with you?” I asked.

  Nik’s fingertips dug into the upholstery. “What do you mean?”

  I finished with my bootlaces and sat up straight, patting my hands on my knees. “I don’t know. You just seem . . . different, I guess. Angry, or something.” Cold, was more like it. “Did the things I told you—”

  “I’m fine.”

  I held up my hands to shield myself from his chilly tone. “Alright. Noted.” I laughed under my breath. “Forget I said anything.”

  “You got it.”

  I pointed at him. “See. That’s exactly what I mean. You’re acting weird—all cold and quiet and . . . and weird.”

  Nik raised a single, pierced eyebrow. “Sorry, Kitty Kat. I’ve just got a lot to think about.” His lip quirked into a faint smirk. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got your own shit to deal with.”

  I narrowed my eyes, scrutinizing his face. Nik was sorry? He’d never apologized for his behavior before, not even when he broke my hand with his stupid At wall, or after, when he’d nearly killed me. Not even when he’d used his myriad of sheut powers to cloud my mind in an attempt to make me comply with his wishes.

  Something was majorly off with him—more than just him being overwhelmed by our current predicament—but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was Re still in control, just playing it off that he was letting Nik drive?